SMUT in this chapter. You have been forewarned.
Elena's eyes popped open as she snapped back into her body. For a moment she wasn't sure what to make of the smell flooding the room, but then she registered it as blood.
The red liquid was seeping into the carpet and only stopped by the protective circle of salt surrounding them.
She looked around the room as she was pulled to her feet and bloody hands started to run over her extremities.
"What the…"
Lexa stood on shaky legs and surveyed the mess. Wood lay in splinters all around the circle of salt, coated in crimson blood. She swallowed a thick lump in her throat and tore her eyes away from when looked suspiciously like internal organs tossed down beside the three corpses.
"Elijah!" Elena grabbed his wrists to stop him from feeling her throat. "What is going on? Why are there three dead people in here?"
"Hayley sent a little welcome party." He glanced at Lexa to ensure she was alright before running his eyes over Elena's throat.
"So you killed them?" Lexa nudged a man's shoulder with her toe. She found herself glad she had taken the time to create a barrier around them. It was probably the only thing that had kept the wood from reaching Elena.
"Before they could kill you," he nodded. "Are you hurt?"
"Nope," she shook head. "I'm just covered in blood."
Elena dropped her bag on the motel bed. She would have flopped down beside it if not for the pungent smell of gasoline covering her clothes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and eyed the blood stains over her sleeves.
"Are you thinking about running for the hills?" Elijah leaned against the nightstand.
"Haven't we established that I have no sense of self-preservation?" She teased. "If I was going to run I would have don't it by now. I am however, considering burning these clothes; blood and gasoline are not the best combination."
"Sorry about that," he nodded to her sleeves. "I was momentarily convinced you had been bitten."
Elena nodded. She had figured he was looking for some sort of mark indicating poison when he pulled her to her feet.
"You left this morning," she turned around to face him. The morning felt like a million years ago.
"I needed some answers," he took a step towards her, "and I would have woken you but you looked so peaceful."
"I was hoping to be back before you woke up." He reached out, smoothing away the line between her brows.
"I have a question," she bit her lip. "Why did Hayley send assassins?"
His expression hardened when he thought of what could have happened. He knew the only reason they had still been alive when he arrived was Lexa's protection spell. He took a deep breath and met Elena's eyes.
"The other night," he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, "when Vincent revealed his reasoning to Lexa I assumed I had known before."
"You didn't," Elena guessed.
"I did not," he nodded. "She lied to all of us and I wanted to know why."
"And did you find out?" She tilted her head. Beneath the rage in his eyes she saw the ghost of betrayal.
"I found out," he nodded, "she did it on purpose. She tore my family apart, Elena, and she was going to kill you to ensure they stayed apart."
"They're not going to stay that way," she flattened her palm over his heart and offered a small smile. "Lexa should have her full strength back by the time we get to San Francisco."
A lump formed in her throat when he covered her hand with his. The age old question surfaced in her mind when he met her eyes: who do you see?
"Have I thanked you, Elena?" He listened to her heart skip a beat.
"For what?" She frowned.
"Oh, that should be obvious," he took a small step closer. "You came to my aid when I was alone, and abandoned your entire life to help me and my family, who you hate."
"I don't hate them," she inhaled slowly through her mouth.
"There's no love lost between you," he smirked. His expression sobered a second later. "Why did you agree to all of this?"
"They're your family," she shrugged. "What?" She tilted her head when he chuckled.
"I was right," he hummed, "about your compassion. I have a confession to make."
"Oh?" She froze in anticipation of what was to come. He had always been honest with her. Was he about to tell her he was madly in love with one of her predecessors? She supposed it would be better to hear it at the beginning rather than find out because he was subconsciously trying to change her.
"Yes," he nodded, lowering her hand from his chest. "I knew."
"You knew?" She frowned. What had he known?
"I knew it was you," he loosened his hold on her hand, "in Willoughby."
"You knew…" the blood rushed from her face, "… before you…"
The confirmation was there in his eyes; he had known the second he saw her pacing in the gazebo.
He waited, half expecting her to slap him for his brazen actions nearly a decade before, but the blow didn't come.
"Why did you… if you knew…?" Her mouth opened and closed a few times.
"Because," he inhaled slowly, ignoring the gas still clinging to her, "I had wanted to kiss you for months, and I didn't think I'd ever get the chance again. I'm sorry; I took advantage of the situation."
"You were with Katherine," she shook her head slowly. "You were…"
"As foolish as your Salvatores," he cleared his throat, "thinking someone else could take your place –"
She cut him off by standing on her toes and pressed her mouth to his in a sound kiss. She gave him no time to speak in the space between kisses.
His tongue slid between her lips and explored before he pulled back and left a peck against her mouth.
"And here I thought you were going to hit me," he pressed his forehead to hers.
"Maybe later," she breathed and felt him shake with laughter against her. "Got anything else to confess?"
"Not at the moment," he shook his head.
They both heard his heart skip a beat, but neither mentioned it; it was the unspoken thing. Deep down they both knew what it was but they weren't quite prepared to say it.
"Really," she cocked an eyebrow, "you're not gonna tell me I stink?"
"I can't smell anything beyond myself at the moment," he smirked.
"Yeah," she smirked, eyes twinkling, "you do stink."
"Are you sure that's not you?" He teased.
"How dare you?" She gasped, holding a hand to her heart. "I smell amazing, or I will very soon."
She smirked before flashing out of his arms and into the bathroom.
He rolled his eyes before stepping inside behind her as the ruined shirt hit the tile. He pressed her back to his chest when she started the shower.
"Who said you could shower first?" He spun her around and pressed his arms against her bare back.
"I got here first," she smiled innocently.
"It's a shame that's not the way the world works," he blinked. The tips of his fingers grazed her spine and she shivered.
"It is," she nodded. She grasped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head.
"Is this for the burn pile?" She tilted her head.
"I'm pretty sure everything we were wearing today needs to be burnt." He smirked.
"I find I have to agree," she wiggled from his arms and threw the shirt down, "it's so hard to get the smell of gas and burning bodies out."
She striped off the rest of her clothes and stepped into the steam. Her knees weakened when he stepped in behind her.
She didn't say anything as he urged her forward under the spray. The water clung to her skin, soaked through her hair and raised a flush on her chest; though the flush had more to do with the soft shampoo he was massaging into her scalp.
She tipped her head back and felt the water rinse from her hair. She reached for a washcloth when his fingers ran through her clean hair and added soap.
He brushed his lips along her jaw and groaned when she pulled back and sank to her knees. The water beat down on his chest when her body was no longer blocking the majority of the spray.
His breath hitched when she ran the cloth up one leg and down the other. She paid close attention to every inch of skin, rubbing maddening circles over his thighs and completely avoiding his straining erection. She stood and moved her attention to his arms before running the cloth around his back and over his chest, working until only the faint smell of gasoline clung to her skin.
She gasped when he pushed her into the wall and tore the washcloth from her fingers.
"You are a tease," he murmured against her throat.
"I can't believe you'd accuse me of that," she bit her bottom lip. She nearly drew blood when he began massaging her shoulders.
He bent and drew her lip into his mouth while washing her back. He swallowed her moan when he ran the cloth over the curve of her behind and between her cheeks.
Her hips rolled forward without her consent, and his erection grazed her stomach. She could barely breathe when he moved around to her front, and there was no hope for her sanity when he knelt and washed her legs and feet.
"You call me a tease," she groaned as the cloth dipped between her legs. She could smell her arousal over the soap.
"You know what they say about things going around," he smirked.
"How much am I going to have to endure?" She rolled her eyes and sighed. She felt certain she would combust if she wasn't touched soon.
"Are you desperate?" He leaned in and kissed her naval.
"I'm pretty sure you can smell how desperate I am," she raked her nails through his hair.
He nodded once, dropped the cloth and hooked her leg over his shoulder. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating and only her earlier teasing had given him the will to wash every inch of her without sneaking a taste.
There was a hollow ache between her thighs that begged for relief. He didn't hesitate before answering it.
Her hips arched and twisted as his tongue trailed through her folds. She groaned and rocked and pressed his face closer. She didn't stop to wonder at what point he had learned the ins and outs of her body, she was too busy climbing; her body tensed when he applied a series a flicks to her clit and slipped two fingers into her dripping center.
A soft cry fell from her lips as she fell and the pleasure closed over her head. She was still panting when he stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her head tipped to the side when he began licking and nipping the column of her throat.
She gave a small jump at the urging of his hands and closed her legs around his waist. She shivered as the water turned cold and pressed her lips to his in a long kiss.
His hand reached blindly for the shower nob to cut off the flow.
Her fingers slid between their bodies and wrapped around his cock.
He groaned as she lined him up and sank down; her slick skin sliding against his chest as she shimmied and buried him in her body.
He flashed out of the steam filled bathroom without breaking them apart and pushed her down on the nearest flat surface.
Elena moaned when he began to move. One hand curled around the back of his neck and the other gripped the edge of the table for support, lifting her hips to meet him thrust for thrust.
She tightened her grip around his waist and arched her back. Breaking from his mouth she nipped along his jaw and dragged her blunt teeth down his throat. The smell of his rich blood, less than an inch from her fangs, made her mouth water.
She swallowed the desire to sink her teeth into his throat and settled for working the fluttering pulse point with her lips and tongue. His hips snapped a little harder when her teeth teased the spot.
He knew exactly what she was craving. For weeks he had been craving the same thing, and he had refrained for fear of hurting her with his weakened control.
He was in control again, at least he felt in control.
"Go ahead." He tilted his head to give her better access to his throat and squeezed the back of her thigh.
Elena hesitated, for a moment Stefan's voice echoed in her mind. Blood sharing is personal. She had never bitten another vampire because of his words; she had never felt the desire, but now her entire body was craving him.
"Are you sure?" She murmured against his throat. Belatedly she realized her capillaries were throbbing; she was almost embarrassed to pull back where he could see, but she did.
Her breath caught when she saw his eyes. It was so rare that she saw his vampire features, but she could see them now. His eyes were flooded with red and the veins beneath pulsed in time with his pounding heart.
His nod had the coil in her belly tightening. She moved as fast as she could and pushed him down on the bed, knocking the bag away and sinking back on his cock.
He bit his lip to keep from swearing when she moved, rolling her hips up and down while bending down and nipping at that pulse point again. He bucked up and groaned when her teeth sank into his throat.
He grasped her hips and thrust up, meeting her motions.
She could barely focus when the blood flooded her mouth. The liquid acted as the sweetest of ambrosia pushing her over the edge into ecstasy. She didn't even notice when he flipped her over and hooked her legs high around his waist.
Eventually though, she had to breathe and pulled her teeth free. She nodded when he slid his hand over the column of her throat and swiped his thumb over her carotid artery.
She arched her neck and braced herself for the sting she was sure she was about to feel, but it never came. His fangs slid into her skin as if finding a home.
She brought her own teeth back down, certain she was nowhere near as neat as he was, and pierced his neck again.
She couldn't describe the emotions that washed over her when they were joined in both places, and she didn't try; instead she lost herself in the rhythm of their undulating bodies and the influx of emotion running back and forth until she wasn't sure where the affection began and ended.
Her mind was still reeling when they were laying side by side exchanging soft kisses and fighting not to voice the thing they both wanted to say in spite of how right it felt.
"Elena," he breathed against her cheek.
"Elijah," she hummed against his jaw.
They didn't have to say it; it was reflected in their eyes.
She wanted to say the words on the tip of her tongue, but they were words she hadn't uttered in years. She wondered how long it had been since he had said them, and if those were the words she saw along the curve of his lip.
"How did you know it was me?" She asked instead. "I even had Rebekah fooled for a bit there."
"I know you, Elena," he trailed his knuckles down her spine. "I'd know you anywhere."
"But how?" She propped her chin on his chest.
"It's in the eyes," he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Your compassion shines from your eyes."
"I didn't even have emotions at the time," she drew abstract patterns over his chest.
"Even without them you could never match her for cruelty," he shook his head. "And no amount of indifference could ever temper your compassion."
"How the hell do you know that?" A line appeared between her brows.
"Because of Rebekah," he moved her damp hair over her shoulder, "you didn't need her to find the cure. You didn't have to make that deal. You could have found it and destroyed it, but you knew she wanted it."
"She always wanted it," Elena shrugged. "Why destroy something that could do some good?"
"Why do something kind when you don't care?" He countered.