I saw the opportunity to grab the "oh no, there's only one bed" trope and happily grabbed it by the horns. Sorry, not sorry.

The earworm for this chapter is "Fingerprints" by Kita Klane.

i have fault lines in my bones
part five: bed

The clerk's best free motel room is a small box with an even smaller bed. Three wooden chairs tuck beneath a round wooden table in the corner by the room's sole window with the curtains looking like thin white rags that barely seem to fit the frame. A lamp flickers like there's tiny moths trapped inside of the bulb.

She carries in her dark blue duffel bag and dumps it on the left hand side of the bed. Despite his teasing promise, there are no chocolates on the beds. Peering down at the pillows and the neatly tucked sheets, she thinks it looked a lot bigger from outside of the doorway.

"Did you have a preference for which side of the bed you wanted?" Elena turns to look at him as he steps inside of the room, gently pulling the door closed behind him.

Elijah wheels in his sleek black suitcase that reaches a little higher than his knee. He's left his other bags in the trunk of his car. "No," he says, letting go of the door handle. His hands move to his blazer to gently brush any wrinkles from the fabric. "I'll take the side you don't prefer."

"Okay," she says, nodding. That doesn't exactly help her. Choosing a side is a lot harder than she'd like to think, especially given that she doesn't see him allowing her to sleep at the small table.

She looks at the bed and wonders if taking the left is a bad idea. With a purse of her lips, she turns back to look at him. Playfully, she says, "You do know me picking the side closest to the door means I'm heroic, right?"

His brows lift before he furrows them. "Is that because if a killer chooses to enter this room, they'll go for you first?"

Her brows arch up in surprise, her lips curving into a smile. "You've heard of that?"

Elijah tugs his blazer off his arms. "My sister liked to torment my brother with it," he says casually. Folding his blazer over his arm gently, he looks at the wooden table and rubs his fingers against the top of the chair's back, cleaning away its dust. "She used to believe that a killer would choose to kill him, no matter what side of the bed she took."

Sucking on her bottom lip thoughtfully, Elena wonders how far she can press him for more information about his family. She knows he has several siblings, but the dynamics between them is something she's been left to wonder and even daydream about. Elijah's definitely the oldest. He has that older sibling air to him.

Feeling welcomed, she crosses her arms against her chest and smiles at him. "Was that because he took the safe side of the bed?"

He cracks a smile, peering up at her. "Yes." Placing his blazer over the back of the chair, he begins to undo his cufflinks. His watch looks bulkier against the white fabric of his long-sleeve shirt.

"I always made Jeremy take the side of the bed closest to the door. He used to say that the killer would look at him, know he's able to kick his ass, and then go and stab me." Elena smiles, shaking her head. "It's a stupid belief, isn't it?"

He shrugs. "It's harmless. It's just as harmless as believing there are monsters beneath your bed or in your closet."

"Monsters like vampires?" Elena arches her brow, smiling at him. Dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed, she knows that she hardly looks as composed as he does. She's beginning to wonder if he likes her for her lack of composure.

She takes the fact the corners of his mouth don't fall as a good sign. "That's clearly an exception," he says. He pulls out the chair from beneath the wooden table and takes a seat. Every movement he makes, no matter how small it is, seems so well-thought-out and deliberate.

Watching him, she brushes her fingers against her temple. He smiles cheekily at her. "Sometimes they're in your bed."

Elena blushes, her neck and cheeks feeling hot. Despite feeling flustered, she clears her throat, determined to ply him with questions. "So, are there monsters that go thump in the night?" Resting her hands behind her on the bed, she taps her fingers a little eagerly against the soft sheets. The room may look like a shoebox, but the bed at least will be comfortable.

"There's no boogyman as far as I know," he says. When he rests an elbow against the table, she thinks that's him at his most casual. He crosses a leg over the other, still appearing in control despite the fact their room hides him from everyone but her. "I have seen a tooth fairy."

Elena laughs, shaking her head. "You're teasing me," she says. Tsking him, her chest feels warm when he smiles toothily, a warm laugh rupturing from his throat. It sounds nice and carefree, and much better than his silence.

"I am," he says, conceding with a nod. He looks down at his pants and pinches the fabric tightly. "There are sirens. Not quite mermaids, although I wouldn't be surprised if they had created the belief mermaids were once real."

Her brows lift up in surprise. Leaning forward, she rests her hands on her thighs. "Sirens? Do they lure fishermen out to sea and then drown them?"

"You'll be surprised by how accurate myths are, Elena."

Her eyes widen, mouth falling open. "You're kidding."

Elijah looks up at her, lips pulled in an amused smile. He shakes her head. "I kid you not," he says as dryly as possible, pulling an incredulous laugh from her. "They lure men with their song and then drown them."

"Those poor men."

He shrugs. "I think they're rather foolish."

"But you can't blame them, right?" Elena tilts her head to the side as she watches him. Elijah's gaze is warm as he looks at her. "Doesn't it always come down to the love of a woman?" Those words fit on her tongue like they were born there, but she knows she's merely borrowing from someone else. Hadn't that been what Damon had once told her? The love of a woman had torn him away from Stefan. She thinks his love for her is only encouraging him to water a chasm to grow between them.

With an audible and obvious inhale, he drops his gaze. His smile isn't as warm as it had been previously.

"Men do stupid things for women," he says. He drops his elbow to rest his arm against the table. His fingers tap lightly against the wood. Elena waits him out patiently like she's the predator and he's the prey. He looks at the corner of the bed, gaze avoiding hers. "You may be surprised, but I have been one of those men."

She shakes her head. "Not really," she says kindly. He looks up at her, brows slightly furrowed. "Just because you're a thousand years old doesn't mean you're any less of a man. You're allowed to be fallible." Feeling encouraged by his small smile, she rubs her hands hard against her thighs. She feels nervous at the idea of exposing herself to him. "I don't think someone like you would go so long without loving someone. Love makes you stupid sometimes."

Elijah looks at her for a moment, his small smile never wavering, and then stands. Brushing a hand along his arm, he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow. Elena can't help but openly watch him as he takes to it almost methodically, his fingers working deftly to roll a sleeve up perfectly to the crook of his elbow. "I'm going to get you something to eat."

"I'm fine with the vending machine, Elijah."

Running his tongue along his teeth, he shakes his head. "I'm not going to let you eat out of the vending machine. There's a small bakery across the road. Keep the door locked and don't answer it unless it's me."

Elena curls her fingers into the bedsheets behind her to stop herself from standing to follow him. From her place on the bed's edge, she watches as he effortlessly escapes through the door.

.

.

.

After he brings her a pie, a croissant, and a meal from a nearby burger place, she eats the burger and leaves him the pie to enjoy. She eats over a brown paper bag while he dines over a paper plate. It's the fanciest diner she's ever had. Surprisingly, he pours the ketchup on top of it like it's blood and eats it with his hands. The small round table by the room's one window had looked initially looked small, but it feels big enough to support Elijah's idea of a good sizeable dinner.

"What?" he smiles at her, tilting his head to the side with his pie in his hands. His knee kisses hers lightly.

"Nothing," Elena says, shaking her head. She looks down, busying herself with wiping her hands with her napkin. Her skin feels warm now that she has his attention. Elena's been waiting for the right moment to reconnect with him since he'd left her to fetch them dinner. The motel room had been quiet without his mindful steps and conversation.

"You're laughing at me," he says. He rights himself and regards her with his brows lifted. "It's rude to laugh, you know."

"Is it?" Still refusing to look up at him, she lifts the napkin to dab at her lips. "I was just… enjoying the sights."

"Is that right?"

With a huff, she balls up the napkin and throws it at him. Unsurprisingly, it falls off him like water. Elijah's smile doesn't drop from his face, though, only widening as he laughs at her.

Glancing up at him, she determinedly doesn't look at him. "You eat like a normal person."

He chuckles, "Why is that so surprising?"

She shrugs, crossing her arms against her chest defensively. "Because." She knows it's childish. Because is hardly an answer. "You're meant to be one thousand years old."

"Technically I'm a little older."

"And," she says more forcefully, ignoring his casual interjection, "you're supposed to be archaic."

"Archaic."

"Yes," she says, tilting her chin up slightly. The hole she's found herself in is growing deeper by the second. It's a good thing she's gotten good at digging. Getting out of tight spots is something she's only beginning to grasp. "Archaic. You're not supposed to fit in this well."

He smiles, shaking his head. Pie still clutched between his hands, he seems to forget about its warmth kissing his fingers. He simply looks at her, amused. "It bothers you that I don't speak formally and without contractions, doesn't it?"

Her brows furrow and she shakes her head. "I'm not bothered."

"And it bothers you that I'm eating my pie with my hands rather than a knife and fork because you have a preconceived notion of what I should be like."

She shakes her head fiercely. "No."

He smiles, his face brightening. He looks down at his pie and places it gently onto his paper plate. Wiping his fingers one by one with his napkin, he observes her openly. Elena fidgets in her seat.

"It bothers you."

"What bothers me is that you eat your pie with a lot of ketchup on it."

"Am I not allowed to eat a pie with ketchup?"

"No." Inhaling deeply, she lets it out roughly. "You're supposed to be old and unlikable, Elijah. I'm having a really hard time finding you annoying. Present moment obviously excluded from that."

His lips curve upward. "So you find me annoying."

She drops the quarter of the burger that's left onto her paper bag. "I'm going to have a shower." Elena slaps her hands flat against the table, pushing her chair out roughly. Elijah watches her with amusement, chuckling warmly. Her cheeks burn as she picks up a napkin, wipes her hands fiercely with it, and tosses it at him.

Turning on her heel, she stomps towards the bathroom.

"Did you want company?"

"No!" She slams the bathroom door shut tightly behind her.

.

.

.

Showering hadn't been a smart decision.

She'd gone inside of the bathroom with nothing to change into but the clothes she'd been wearing. She considers slipping out of the bathroom in only her towel, but at the way her skin heats and her heart races in her chest at the idea, she redresses in her old clothes.

Once she steps out, hair wet and her clothes sticking to her damp skin, she doesn't have time to fetch her pyjama tank top and shorts from her bag to return to the box of a bathroom before he'd steps past her, closes the door, and starts the shower.

Her cheeks warm as she wonders if he can smell her in there. On her knees beside the bed on the surprisingly soft carpet, she opens her duffel bag and rummages through it in search of something to wear. While she knows Caroline would insist she wear something slippery to give her the optimal chance of having his skin touch hers, all Elena hunts for is her favourite pair of pyjama bottoms.

Once she finds her dark red tank top and black and white checkered shorts, she undresses, slipping out of the tight skin of her jeans and pulling her damp shirt up and over her head.

She can hear him pad around the small bathroom as she tugs her tank top over her head, pulling her wet hair out from beneath it. He makes a small noise, a sigh, and the tap of the sink runs hard. She wonders what he's doing—washing his face or hands? Is he trying to tune her out with the tap running so hard?—and finds she's peering back at the closed bathroom door, trying to picture him as she slides her panties down her legs.

Realising she hasn't fetched a pair out from her bag, she rifles through it, pulling at bras and shirts and a few of her novels she's packed to keep her preoccupied. The bathroom door opens as she snags a pair on her fingers, struggling to tug them out as a lace from one of her Converse shoes tangles with it.

Peering over her shoulder, she frowns at the sight of him. With the towel slung around his hips, she stares at his pink-tinged and damp skin. He looks down at the black bra in his hands, his fingers purposeful in the way they brush over the fabric and band. She'd forgotten it inside of the bathroom in her rush out.

Looking up to catch her staring, he smiles. He doesn't toss her bra to her. Casually, he walks to his bag, picks it up off the floor, and unzips it.

Elena's lips part as she remains on her heels and watches him from over her shoulder, uncaring for the moment that she's bare from the stomach down. She isn't quite sure why she's staring at him—his chest is shiny from the shower and he's pulling something out of his bag that she hadn't quite anticipated.

He doesn't even have to rummage through his clothes and other Elijah items to its very depths to find what he's looking for: a pair of soft-looking dark blue slacks and a white t-shirt. Trading her bra for his apparent bedtime wear, he pulls it out gently. Elena finds herself envious of his ability to make anything look like it's under his control.

"Did you think I'd wear a suit to bed?" He smiles as he looks at her, his gaze dropping down to her bare lower back.

Feeling a blush and heat creep up her skin and taint it red, Elena licks her lips and refuses to look away. She's on her knees, dressed in only a tank top, holding a pair of her black panties in her hands. For some reason, she feels as though this is the barest she's ever been with him.

"Pretty much," she says too quietly. Clearing her throat, she tears her eyes away from the skin of his belly. "You do know they make pyjama sleepwear in the design of suits, right?"

He smiles, nodding. Affectionately, he says quietly, "Of course you'd know that."

She smiles, feeling pleasure warm her chest. "Can you, you know… turn around?" With her hand holding her panties, she gestures for him to spin on the spot. Tilting her head up as haughtily as she can to distract him from her state of undress, she informs him factually, "I'm not ready yet."

"I can see that." His gaze lingers on what he can see of her ass. She presses down firmly against her thighs, heat burning beneath her skin. "I think you should wear just that to bed, Elena."

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head. "Only if you wear a suit."

"Touché." After a prolonged moment, he turns on his foot and gives her his back. Elena's gaze travels down the long line of his spine, noting the light pink tinge of his skin spreads to his lower back and hips.

Quickly, she rises and steps into her panties, tugging them up her hips. Her shorts follow suit. Elena leaves her bag open, trusting him to leave her mess of items alone. Brushing her hands behind her ears, she clears her throat and stands as straight as she can.

"You can turn around," she says. She lets her gaze linger on his lower back. She doesn't pull her gaze up and away when he does turn around; her heart beats hard as she takes in the lines of his hips.

Possibly spurned on by her open stare, he drops his white t-shirt onto the bed and pulls his slacks up his legs beneath the town. She eyes the way the muscles of his shoulders pull as he leans over, tugging his pants up his powerful legs before he's tugging the towel off of his hips. In true Elijah fashion, he shakes it out and pulls it taut before he begins to fold it immaculately in half.

Towel on the bed, he tugs his white shirt over his head. His hair's a little tousled.

Taking in how strangely casual he looks in what she expects to still be tailored pants, she finds that he wears it as confidently as he does his suits. While his blazers and cufflinks make up significant pieces of his armour, she'd been curious to know if clothing as simple as slacks would look weirdly unsuitable for him. He wears it as proudly as he does his dress shirts.

With an expectant look, she arches her brow and lifts her eyes to his. "Did you wear those to seduce me, Mr Mikaelson?" She nods towards his blue pants, ignoring the way his white shirt sticks to his damp skin.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Would you believe I wear this to bed?"

With a purse of her lips, she shakes her head. "No." Pushing her feet forward, she walks towards the bed, not wanting to stand in the middle of the room in a trance. Tugging the sheets back, she leans over and pulls them down on his side.

"Thank you," he says. He must take that as his invitation to approach the bed. "I can sleep on one of the chairs."

"You can sleep in the bed," she says, glancing up at him. Pulling at the sheets, she straightens them. It's a useless endeavour, but Elena needs to work out her sudden nervous energy. "It's big enough for two."

"Okay," he says quietly. He seems nervous for a moment, fingers tucking into the hem of his shirt like it's a safety net. Elena wants to tell him she's not dangerous; he can trust her with his back and front.

After a moment, he pulls the sheets back further. She immediately steps back from the bed as if the sheets are a mere extension of his warm skin. Elena knows what will happen if he touches her. Quick to turn off the lights, she realises that those few steps hadn't bought her any time to calm down and stop overthinking.

She keeps her arms wrapped around her chest. Body tense, she waits for him to dip the bed and lie down. Once he seems comfortable on his back, she counts to ten quietly and slowly before she lies down, sliding her feet haphazardly beneath the rumpled sheets.

Lying on her back stiffly, she stares up at the ceiling. None of this feels natural. She hasn't felt this guarded and unsure around him since the day she first met him. Elijah remains on his back, eyes closed. Nothing about him seems frightening. Without even trying, he's still intimidating her.

Elena knows it's not him who's making her feel nervous. He's a new variable, someone she's never laid down beside for longer than a few minutes. The ceiling is wrong, the lights are too low in intensity. The bedside table isn't hers, nor is the radio clock. Her journal should be laid out to her left, but she knows that there's no book filled with precious moments and horrible secrets on the table beside him.

Closing her eyes, Elena tries to force herself to sleep. Her mind races. The sheets are soft and gentle against her skin, but they're not hers.

"Relax," he says in amusement. "I promise I won't let the monsters I saw beneath the bed get you."

"I'm relaxed," she says, knowing he can hear the thumping of her heart. She's hardly relaxed. This is the first time she's been away from Mystic Falls, away from her comforts. There's no Bonnie or Caroline sleeping beside her. There's no Stefan.

Opening an eye, he looks at her with a slight quirk to his lips. "You're safe, Elena."

Once he closes his eyes again, she looks at him. Rolling onto her side loudly, she openly stares at him. It's something she used to do with Stefan, usually as a joke and sometimes in search of a reminder that he's there. She never did this with Matt; she never needed him that way.

If he can sense she's staring at him, he doesn't let it on. He remains still, an arm lifted above his head while his other hand rests against his chest. Letting her gaze trail down him, she watches the movement of his chest. She may not be able to hear his heartbeat, but this is enough to begin calming her.

Shifting in the bed, she turns and rests her head on his shoulder, claiming it as her own. Isn't he hers when they're alone? Her big, scary and old vampire, the monster in her bed. All she can feel is the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt.

She slides her hand firmly down his clothed chest. Elijah keeps his eyes closed as she touches him. He doesn't move until her hand slides beneath the hem of his shirt and her fingers touch hot skin. Sucking in his belly, she slowly ascends her hand up the valley of him. She watches her hand travel up his shirt, pulling it up along his torso.

"What are you doing?" he murmurs. From the corner of her eye, she can see he's looking at her. Elena doesn't glance at him, her heart thumping loudly in her chest and the pulse in her neck following suit.

She murmurs, "Relaxing." Pushing her hand to rest against his collarbone, she tries to feel for his heart. It doesn't thump as wildly as hers. Elena's never been good at detecting hearts, having never learned how to locate them. She's always relied on others to simply find hers. "Enjoying the motel."

Elijah inhales deeply through his nose, peering at her. Elena doesn't look at his face, not wanting to lose her nerve. Licking her lips, she watches how her small hand can cover so much of his skin. Sharp bone sits beneath her hand, his damp skin warming her palm.

She looks up at him, finding he's watching her. "Did you want to enjoy the motel?" she asks.

Elijah looks at her for a moment too long before his gaze drops to her teeth pulling at her bottom lip.

He's quick to move—and so sleek, too, like a shark in the water. She's dislodged, but he doesn't push her away from him. His hands hook into the hem of his shirt and pull it up and over his head. He drops it to the side, allowing it to fall off the cliff of the bed. His skin's naked beneath her hand, open and vulnerable for her to touch and claim. She fans out her fingers against his collarbones, wanting to possess more of him.

He inhales hard, his chest finally moving like the sea spelled by a storm. Elena watches his face as she pulls her hand down his chest and to his hips. She smiles when he sucks in his belly again. "I'm ticklish," he says quietly.

Fingers teasing the skin hidden beneath the waistband of his pants, she slides them underneath his underwear until she can grasp his cock. His gasp is so quiet she thinks the sound comes from her.

Licking her lips, she bows her head and kisses his chest lightly. Moving as carefully as she can, she descends his chest by leaving kisses in her wake and comes to nestle between his legs. Keeping his cock in her hand, she gently kisses his stomach, skin still damp and warm from his shower.

"Elena…" His voice is quiet as he stares down at her. She ignores him, licking at his navel. Stroking his cock gently, she tries to listen to his heartbeat. She wants it to pound recklessly in his chest.

Resting her chin on his belly, she peers up at him. His cock's a comfortable weight in her palm, warm and hardening between her fingers. Elena likes the power she has over him. He looks down at her with wide eyes, parted lips, and flushing skin.

"You have to be honest with me. No hiding," she says.

Elijah stares at her dumbly for a moment. "Okay," he says quietly. She grips his cock firmly between her fingers, pulling a moan from low in his throat. Every muscle in his body seems to strain as she brushes her thumb over the head of his cock.

Enjoying the way he stiffens beneath her, he keeps still on the bed. She still thinks he's hiding. Elijah's all about control. She's seen it in the way he walks, the way he pulls at his blazer sleeves and even styles his hair. She tugs at his cock, keeping her hand firm as she strokes him harder. Elijah moans, it rumbling like a tremor.

Elena pulls away from him, pulling the covers off of her and kicking them to pile at the end of the bed over her feet. He whimpers, eyes on her. She's quick to pull her pyjama shorts and panties down her legs, keeping her tank top on. She leaves them piled on her pillow.

He doesn't stop her as she straddles him. His hands are warm on her hips as she sits on his belly. She knows he can feel how wet she is, and the idea of him being able to while she sits astride his bare skin and incidentally slickens him makes warmth shoot up her spine and in her cunt.

"Is this how you live your life?" She licks her lips, noting how his gaze lingers on her covered breasts before settling on her mouth. "Motel to motel?"

He shakes his head. He heaves in a breath, his own voice breathless when he says, "Not usually." Elena decides she likes him when he isn't composed. It makes him appear vulnerable like he's able to be hers.

"I've been in a motel once," she says. "When I was sixteen. I was with Matt." She smiles and shakes her head. "It didn't go like this."

"Like this?" Elijah arches his brow, lips curving upward. She wants to reach forward and trace the shape of his mouth and have it burn itself into the soft pads of her fingers. She figures if she misses it this moment, she'll have time in the very near future. "I would hope this would be the only time you've ever experienced a motel like this."

She chuckles, smiling. Arching her brow, she teases, "Possessive, are we?"

"Completely," he says, peering up at her with a small smile. His gaze doesn't drift from her face.

Brushing her hair behind her ear, Elena shuffles down his belly. Resting on her knees and between his legs, she grasps his cock in her hand once more. He bites his lip, a growl rumbling hotly in his chest. She watches him for a moment, stroking his cock absently. Impulsively, she bows her head to kiss his cock's head. His breath gusts out of him; a strangled moan parts his lips.

Lifting herself up, she moves and aligns herself with him. She watches him watch her as she takes him inside of her. Biting her lip, she moans loudly as his cock stretches her cunt. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. Watching his throat, he swallows thickly.

Elena rocks against him gently, pressing a hand against his hip and another against his belly. While her skin flushes pink at the idea of him watching her ride him, she enjoys the way he can't tear his gaze away from her. The way he fits inside of her feels so good. He stares up at her, lips parted, eyes darkening only slightly.

Biting his bottom lip, Elijah lifts his hands to touch her thighs. Elena swats his hands away, earning a quiet laugh from him. She rocks her hips, panting sharply. Elongating her throat, she watches as his eyes settle on the length of it. She thinks to ask him if he wants to bite her.

He's still for a moment before his hands are hard on her hips. She makes a sound when she feels his cock slip out of her as he moves her. She's on her belly before she can realise what's happened, he's between her legs, pulling at her hips and tugging her legs apart. Ass in the air, she moans as he thrusts his cock deep inside of her cunt.

"Elijah—"

"I'm enjoying the motel." He doesn't pick her hips up to fuck into her as he had on the Lockwood Estate. Her back's warmed by his chest as he lies down on top of her. With his hands on either side of her, he's a light, tentative press against her spine. His hips push firmly against hers, his knees keeping her legs spread.

"I'm okay," she says quietly. Pulling her hair out of her face, she looks over her shoulder as best she can to nod. "I'm okay."

Elijah's hair's fallen over his face, some of the strands sticking to his temple. He keeps pressing into his hands before he moves forward, kissing her sloppily on the side of her face. Her cheeks flush as she stares at him. He pulls back slightly before bowing his head into her shoulder.

Pushing his hands between her and the bed, he wraps his arms around her belly and rocks his hips into her. Elena moans, reaching her hands out to claw at the edge of the bed. The pressure of his body pins her in place. Even if she tried to push up against him, she wouldn't be able to even shift him.

Curling her toes into the bed, she bows her head into the sheets and moans loudly as he pushes his hips into the back of hers. His hands tickle her belly before his nails press into her skin. Dragging a hand along her belly, she knows his touch his light; all he's leaving behind is white marks to temporarily mark her as his.

Elijah remains on her back, his hips thrusting into hers and pushing his cock deeper inside of her. She pants hard as he pulls one hand roughly out from between her belly and the bed.

His hand's in her hair as he rocks his hips into hers. His thrusts grow shallow, his thrusting turning into rutting. Panting against her shoulder, he pulls at her hair, trying to tug it away from her neck and chest. Tilting her head back, she holds her head to the side.

"You can."

She feels him shake his head. Lips warm against the side of her neck, he breathes, "I can't." Elena doesn't press, his hand gliding roughly through her hair. She misses the pull as he drops his hand.

Gripping the bedsheets, she moans when his hand curves around her neck. His grip is light, his fingertips a warm and gentle press. Despite his gentleness, the pulse in her neck and cunt thump harder. She elongates her neck and pants harder, closing her eyes for a moment.

His hips buck hard against hers with more strength. She tries to open her legs, but all she can do is pant and try and wiggle, letting him fuck her into the mattress as he grips her throat gently.

Pulling his other hand from beneath her, she spies from the corner of her eye how he plants his palm firmly against the bed. Fingers tented, the muscles of his forearm are stiff. He pushes against the bed, using that to fuck into her.

Elena tries her best to swallow her moans, but she cries out. Panting hard, she moans his name, tilting her head back even more as his hand merely cups her throat like he's trying to protect it from the monster he's spied in their room. His lips warm her shoulder, teeth grazing her skin.

She's surprised by the tight coiling of her belly. Feeling her clit rub against the bedsheets with each thrust of his hips, she wonders if he can hear its pulse pound in his ears. Throat feeling hot, she comes hard with a loud cry.

Elijah keeps thrusting into her, teeth nipping at her skin. Feeling her shoulder sting, she knows he's accidentally drawn blood. Her throat feels hot and dry as she tries to nod and quietly says, "It's okay. It's okay."

His tongue laps at the droplets of her blood, his hips pushing firmly into her hips. He comes hard, spilling deep inside of her with a firm, sharp thrust of his hips. The hand on her throat tightens for a moment as his entire body stiffens.

His fingers are gentle against her neck, stroking the skin lightly. He's still on top of her, a pleasurable, heavy weight anchoring her rather than drowning her. She misses the warm, possessive grip of his hand around her neck when he pulls away, pressing his hands on the bed to push himself up.

Pulling completely away from her, Elena follows suit, pushing herself onto her knees. Turning around to sit on her heels, she sees that his track pants are at his knees. Letting her gaze linger over him slowly, she lifts her gaze to spy a shy smile on his flushed face.

"What?" His hands are on his thighs, fingers curling into his skin.

"Nothing," she smiles. "This is the first time I've actually seen you kind of undressed."

Elijah shakes his head sheepishly, cheeks tinging red. When he looks back at her, his gaze falls onto her shoulder. She follows his gaze, dipping her shoulder down and brushing her fingers against her skin. There's a small smearing of red, the size of a small coin.

"I'm okay," she says again, peering up at him. "You didn't hurt me."

"I can never do that, Elena," he says, his gaze on her shoulder. His expression seems pained, his throat tightening. Something pulls uncomfortably in her chest. "Don't ever let me."

Breathing hard, she nods. Rubbing her hands against the small of her back, she childishly crosses her index and middle finger when she says, "Promise."

Seemingly pleased with that, he settles on his heels, shoulders slumping. He breathes hard, still unable to catch his breath. His gaze lingers on her, eyes dipping to glance at her bare hips. "Are you okay?"

Elena smiles, blushing. Carding her hands through her hair, she ducks her head. He seems to come back to himself, his smile growing wide. "I enjoyed the motel," she offers sheepishly. "A lot."

He chuckles. "Well, perhaps you can enjoy the motel in bed. Properly."

Watching him lie on his back once more, she tugs at her tank top to pull it away from sticking to her damp back. She thinks to take it off, but she prefers the way he's naked while she's still a little covered. She watches as he kicks off his track pants and uncharacteristically lets them fall to the floor. Elena lies on her back, a little ways away from him. When she lies on her side, back to him, she smiles as he tugs the blankets up from the foot of the bed to cover them.

He wraps himself around her, chest warm against her front once more. He lies there for a few moments before he shifts behind her, lifting up to press a lingering kiss to the shoulder he'd nipped.

Arms holding her to him, Elena rests her hands against his forearms. With his forehead pressing against her back, she slides her foot between his legs, wanting to tie them together. He doesn't feel like a heavy weight anchoring her down and drowning her. He feels like a life raft, letting her navigate herself to shore.

Elena lets herself sleep, not worrying about the ceiling, what's on the bedside table, or how her sheets feel.

notes.

If you're enjoying this fic so far, I'd love to hear from you! We are getting into the plotty section of the story (the weapon and reasons why Elijah had wanted to leave Mystic Falls to get said weapon) in the next chapters, which I hope that you all enjoy. Until then, thanks for reading!

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