The grandfather clock in the study had stopped working. Damon looked up at the clock in between calls to find that it was frozen at 5:35. He checked his watch with a sigh, it was just after six and he had another meeting to dial into. The rest of the world didn't know that Damon's best friend had been magically transformed into an original vampire by the spirit of an original witch and now said best friend was hellbent on fulfilling his destiny as vampire slayer by killing them all.

What a fucking freak show .

And here Damon was, dialing in to yet another call to hear the quarter three reports for GLS Industries.

Vampire by day, chairman of the board...also by day.

American capitalism didn't sleep. Damon reached for his cell phone. Stefan could handle a repair request while he took this meeting.

Damon : Can you reach out to the repairman for the clock?
Stefan : Which one?
Damon: The one in the study
Stefan: Which one?
Damon: Back of the house, first floor
Stefan: Why can't you do it? I'm at Caroline's.
Damon: I'm on a call and I'm asking you to do it
Stefan: K

Jesus Christ. A fucking letter.

He rolled his eyes and flipped the phone over as the meeting began.

The first floor study was drafty and Damon hated it.

Something about it reminded him of his father. Maybe it was the smell of the leather chairs, or maybe it was the cigar smoke that clung to the drapes that made his stomach sink. It always made Damon hyper-aware of the house; the sheer size of it and the fact that he was responsible for it all. He spun in the chair to face the window behind him as the call went on, pushing the drapes to the side with his boot, letting the last of the sunlight stream through, dust particles dancing around him.

Damon heard the front door open and close. He rolled the chair closer to the window to see who the uninvited visitor was: Elena's car was parked in front of the house. He hadn't returned her texts or answered her calls, of course she was going to show up unannounced with a deranged vampire hunter on the loose.

"Damon?" Elena called out from somewhere in the foyer.

He didn't answer. She would find him eventually.

"Hi," she mouthed from the doorway, having spotted him with the phone between his ear and shoulder as he took notes.

Damon raised an eyebrow in greeting.

Elena pointed behind her, "I'll be in the kitchen."

He didn't bother to acknowledge her.

"No questions from me. Great job everyone," Damon said twenty minutes later, unmuting his line. "Let's keep this momentum going into the final quarter and we should be golden."

He hung up before the questions started, otherwise he'd be here for another hour. He closed the laptop without shutting it down - he'd have to review the emails that had started pouring in during the call before bed. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. The last few nights had been filled with worry and not enough sleep.

The temptation to sink deeper into the chair and let his humanity dim was overpowering. It would be so easy, to listen to the seductive whisper that was in his ear, to give himself over to the darkness that pulled within.

He felt a different source of temptation fill the room.

"Do you need something? Or are you just here to darken the doorway?" Damon asked without opening his eyes.

"You should really get a headset. Holding the phone like that is going to hurt your neck," Elena said from the doorway.

"Thank you for your concern. What do you want?" He repeated.

"How was the call? It sounded like it went well," she said, trying to sound casual.

He remained silent.

"You haven't come over in a few days."

"Are you serious ?" Damon opened his eyes and pushed up from the chair.

Elena shrugged dramatically and he walked around her, headed to the kitchen.

"You always come over."

"Elena," He begged as he walked into the kitchen to find that she'd already started dinner. "Go home."

"Why?" She asked, opening the refrigerator.

"Because I don't want to fucking look at you right now," he said, the anger rising in his chest.

The oven beeped.

"We have to talk about what happened in Denver," Elena said.
She reached into the open refrigerator for a bag of spinach and a bottle of cabernet.

Fucking hell, he thought as he reached into the cabinet above the sink for two wine glasses.

"What is a motel for if not for conducting seances and fucking?" Damon mused sourly as he pulled the cork from the bottle Elena handed him as she arranged an assortment of vegetables and chicken into a baking dish.

"We didn't fuck at the motel," she murmured as she seasoned the dish before her.

"No," he agreed, handing her a glass of red wine. "And yet, you certainly still found a way to fuck with me ."

They looked at each other in silence.

Damon drained his glass and reached for the bottle to pour another. Elena pulled it from his reach and his fingers closed around nothing.

The oven beeped again.

Elena handed Damon the baking dish wordlessly and he slid it into the oven.

"How long do I set this for?" He asked without looking at her.

"Thirty minutes," she replied, crossing her arms and he entered the time. The oven blinked back in confirmation.

"Why are you here?" He asked again.

"You spent every night this summer with me. I haven't heard from you since we got back from Denver. And now Ric is gone. I haven't been able to sleep through the night. Damon, I know I hurt your feelings-," she uncrossed her arms and started to walk towards where he was leaning against the counter but he lifted a hand to stop her.

"Wine," he said, holding out his empty glass.

She sighed and poured him another glass.

"Damon, we have to talk about what happened."

He eyed her dangerously.

She was starting a game she didn't know how to play and he was going to cheat his way to an easy win.

He drained the glass again.

"Take off that fucking necklace if you want to talk about this."

"Are you going to compel me?" She asked, raising a protective hand to the locket that hung from her neck.

"I don't need to compel you. You're going to tell me exactly what happened because you rehearsed it five times before getting out of your car. I just don't want to look at the symbol of the everlasting bond of love you share with Stefan while you do it."

Elena drank from her glass before reaching up to undo the clasp and setting the necklace down on the counter.

He hated that fucking thing.
Stefan had given it to Elena thinking it would protect her from Damon.
Ironically, it was Damon who needed to be protected from Elena.
The puppet master extraordinaire.

Her heartbeat was taking over the room, louder than the silence that had wrapped around them.

Damon slid next to her spot by the island countertop and felt her heartbeat reverberate in his chest.

They were elbow to elbow. He wasn't touching her, but he could feel her.

She didn't look scared, but her increased pulse wasn't matching her poker face.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

He could feel her trying to steady her breath, to regain control of the situation, just like she rehearsed.

She wanted to show him she wasn't afraid of him.

He knew she wasn't afraid.

But he was.

"What's your plan?" Damon whispered, leaning close to her ear.

"What do you mean?" She whispered back, fighting the shiver that was making its way up her spine.

She turned away from him to set her glass down on the counter and he circled behind her.

"Are you going to tell Stefan? Are you going to pretend nothing happened? Will you think about me when he fucks you?" Damon taunted as he closed the distance between them, caging her with his body, arms on either side of her on the counter.

"Stop," she said, twisting to face him. She pushed against him with her body.

"Stop what?" Damon asked quietly as he leaned in closer.

He traced the outline of her collarbone with a finger.

"You wanted to talk. So talk. Tell me what happened in Denver. Tell me about that moment you gave in. The details are murky on my end."

"Damon," she tried to push him away again. She closed her eyes in defeat as his lips ghosted kisses along her throat. "You said you wouldn't compel me."

"I'm not compelling you," he confirmed as he put a knee between her legs, her body shaking gently.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," Elena continued to whisper. "Stefan might be on his way back from Caroline's house."

"You wanted to talk when you came in. Talk to me now."

He wasn't going to let her run away.

Not this time.

He wanted to hear it.

If only to satisfy the morbid curiosity of knowing it hadn't all been in his head.

And he wanted to feel what she had felt.

He wanted to experience it again through her words.

Damon was prepared to mentally relive their motel encounter until the end of time, but Elena was here now and he had her between his legs.

He needed her to speak the memory into existence.

He was going to use the memory, her own voice, and his touch to get off her off without fucking her.

All while they waited for dinner.

"Tell me," he breathed against her neck.

He pressed his lips against her throat, gently kissing a sensitive spot, feeling the way her skin and body reacted to the sudden contact.

He wanted to bite her. Indulge in something Stefan couldn't have. She might even let him if he did it now.

Damon let his fangs graze gently across her skin, teasing her before he retracted them.

Elena's eyes opened to match his: dark with arousal and anger.

He smirked. He had her where he wanted her.

"You were looking out the window and I wondered what your hands would feel like," she started, looking into his eyes. Making her little hands into angry fists against his chest. "And when you sat down to drink the last of the bourbon from that shitty plastic cup, I wondered what your lips would taste like."

Damon concentrated on her words, feeling her press her body against his.

"When you laid down next to me, I couldn't breathe. All I knew was that if you so much as touched me, I would take your hand and put it between my legs."

"Why didn't you?" He asked but she shook her head.

Could he blame this all on the wine or had the two years of foreplay between them finally spilled over?

He wanted to know more.

He needed to hear it.

The fire in her veins was his claim to survival. She was pressed so tightly against him that he could feel her pulse everywhere. It was calling to him. He wanted to answer.

"When I left the room," she continued, shifting her legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling how hard he was for her.

She gasped and he forgot he was trying to stay in control.

He forgot he was supposed to smirk.

Supposed to raise his eyebrows tauntingly.

He forgot what role he was supposed to be playing and instead kissed her, finally letting her taste him the way she claimed she had wanted to taste the bourbon on his lips that night.

Her hips raised to meet his, searching for more friction.

He wanted to give in, but he wanted the rest of the story.

He wrapped his hand around her long hair and pulled her head to the side, giving him more access to her throat.

Elena shivered and squeezed his arms.

"What happened when you left the room," Damon prodded as he licked her pulse point lazily.

" Fuck ," Elena gasped.

"No, that's not what happened," Damon said as he brushed her lips with his thumb and continued to kiss along her throat.

She was still trying to fight him, but she was in his house, in his space, making demands to a deal he hadn't signed off on.

"When I left the room," she continued as she rolled her hips towards his, begging for contact. "I prayed that you'd follow me."

"Prayed? I never took you for a religious woman," Damon mused aloud but she wasn't listening.

Elena's hands were at his belt.

"In that moment, I would have sold my soul to any god for you to follow me. And when you did, all I knew was that I had to feel you. On me, inside me. I needed you. And the way you responded to my body, it was..."

Damon covered her hands with his, moving them away from his body to pin to her sides.

"How did I respond to your body," he asked as she continued to grind her hips into his.

"Like this," Elena whispered. "When you pushed me against the wall and I knew it was time. I'd pictured it so many times. On your bed. My bed. Anywhere except where it was happening, but it didn't matter. I had to know what you felt like. What it felt like to have you inside of me as I came. I had to know, at least once. No one would have to know. It didn't matter."

He let go of her hands and pulled away before she reached for him.

"And there it is. Beautiful. You got what you came for, now get the fuck out and stop fucking with my head. Thanks for dinner."

Damon walked out of the kitchen as Stefan walked through the front door.

"Oh, hey, I didn't get a chance to call the guy about the clock. I'll do it tomorrow," Stefan said. "Is Elena here? I saw her car out front."

"She's in the kitchen making a mess," Damon said, making his way up the stairs to his bedroom. "Don't worry about the clock."

He decided there was something poetic about the clock in the study being frozen in time, just like him.