"Really? Elena asks, scrutinizing him. "The photo is so grainy; Elijah doesn't think it'll spur any useful tips. Neither does Ric."
"My vision is pretty acute, Elena. Remember, I told you that everything is amplified," he replies, studying the photo.
"What makes him seem familiar to you?"
"His build mainly, I suppose. If only the camera would've caught his face?" Damon sighs, shaking his head.
"Well, don't you guys- meaning other vampires- know each other?" Elena asks, genuinely curious.
"If I've never met him, I wouldn't know him. I mean, it's not like we all hang out together at the Vamp Bar & Grill," Damon retorts, lifting an eyebrow.
"Haha," she mumbles sarcastically.
Damon sets the photo down, then moves in front of her and pushes a piece of hair behind her ear.
Elena pulls him to her and kisses him hard. Her mouth ravages his, her tongue spearing between his lips before she pulls back. His eyes are shimmering brightly when she looks into them. "Make love to me, Damon."
They go from quiet and hesitant to an inferno in the blink of an eye. Their mouths are opening and closing against each other in atonal gasps, tongues lashing out and around.
Damon begins backing her up to the staircase. They make it to the sixth step when Elena's knees go wobbly. He picks her up, throws her over one shoulder, and carries her the rest of the way up the stairs. She wraps her legs around him as he stumbles dangerously toward their destination. Stopping before they reach the door, Damon pushes her back up against the wall and kisses her passionately.
Damon sets her down when they reach the bedroom. They both start shedding clothes at a frantic pace. When Elena flings her bra and kicks off her panties, Damon looks up to watch.
"Jesus," he growls.
Finally, finally, they're on the bed. Damon's hands grasp her breasts, and he sucks in a breath as he kneads them and pushes his palms against her hard nipples. Elena's hand travels down to grab his erection, stroking firmly, needing to feel it.
"Elena," Damon says softly, his lips hovering above hers.
She kisses his face, his cheeks, his chin, his jaw.
They move more slowly, enjoying every touch and caress. Damon's fingers begin exploring her calves and her thighs, her hip and her breasts. His hand parts her legs. His fingers trace around her slick, wet flesh, making her moan his name.
"So beautiful," he says softly.
Elena begins kissing every part of him. Her hands move up and down his back, scratching lightly. "Um, I didn't think about it the last time, but do we need a condom?" she asks, feeling her cheeks warm up.
"Vampires can't procreate. But we love to try," he quips, smirking at her.
Elena rolls her eyes playfully. Damon moves slowly on top of her, hooking his arms under her shoulders, holding her head between his palms. They're looking into each other's eyes as he eases himself into her, filling her.
Damon moves slowly at first. He lets out a soft groan against her cheek as he starts to speed up.
Elena arches beneath him as Damon's thrusts create staccato bursts of exquisite pleasure within her. The first winking tendrils unfurl in the pit of her belly before spreading like liquid fire to her thighs and pooling in her center.
"Elena," he says, his voice low and husky in her ear, and just the sound of her name on his lips sends her flying, falling, spiraling, spinning out into nothing. She clenches around him, panting, hot breath escaping in fits as she whimpers and shakes against him. Damon's close behind, twitching and spilling into her with "fuck" hissing through his teeth. Elena holds him there with her legs wrapped around him and her feet pressing into his ass.
Damon shifts his weight slightly. They're still joined together, arms wrapped tightly around each other. They lie there for a while, not moving or speaking.
He's combing her damp hair away from her face with one hand and kissing her forehead. "I can't feel my legs," he says with a wink.
Elena pinches his ass. "Can you feel that?"
Damon pulls her on top of him. "Yeah, I can feel that." He settles her body over his groin. "Can you feel that?" He asks with a wicked grin.
Elena bites her lower lip, slings her leg over his body, and straddles him, raising herself to give him room to position himself. She slides back down until he's inside her again. He sighs as they begin to rock together.
"You feel so good," Damon says huskily before lavishing kisses on her breasts while she begins to move over him. He meets each one of her downward moves with his own upward thrust. Moving harder and faster, Elena quickly feels her body begin to tighten all over again. His fingers brushing against her lower back is the final touch to send her completely over the edge.
Damon grips her hips firmly, and with one final upward thrust, she feels his intense release. Collapsing against him, Elena's breathing is ragged and shaky. She stays there, continuing to feel him pulsate within her. Placing one final kiss on his shoulder, she rolls off him.
Damon pulls her to him. Elena lays with her head against his chest, lulled to sleep by the sound of his pulsing heart.
Soon their sighs mingle with the night breezes that come through the window as fatigue pulls them into sweet oblivion.
"Morning," Damon greets Elena with a plate of peaches-and-cream pancakes. As soon as she's seated, he fills her coffee cup and sits down himself. He's already dressed and looking fine. She especially likes the feel of his stubble brushing across her...
"Thank you. They smell delicious," Elena remarks as she sits down. She digs right in, taking a bite without bothering with syrup. "You're an excellent cook! I've never tasted pancakes like this before," she marvels, washing her food down with a good-sized drink of her coffee.
"I'm glad you like them," Damon remarks, slathering his stack with butter and syrup.
"Very much so," Elena praises, stuffing another forkful into her mouth.
"Do you have plans for the day?" Damon asks.
"I need to get some groceries. Afterward, I'm going to the paper for a while. I still have to finish my next podcast that you interrupted," she quips, licking her food off her lips to taunt him.
"As much as I'd like to undress you all over again, I need to run. I need to leave town for a couple of days."
"Why? Where?"
"I'm going to see an old acquaintance in LA. I texted her the picture, and she thought the man looked familiar, too... I wish I could put my finger on it."
"She?" Elena asks and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Yes. There's no need to worry, Elena. She and I go way, way back."
"How far back?" Elena asks, scrutinizing him closely.
"She's several hundred years older than I am if that gives you any clue."
"Oh!" Elena nods. "She's one of you."
"Yep. She and I had a short-lived fling back in the '70s when we were both living in New York. Needless to say, it didn't work out very well. We get along much better as frenemies," Damon explains, chuckling and winking at Elena.
"You do what you need to do."
"You go. I'll clean and lock up. And I will call you this evening." Damon lifts her chin with his fingers and lowers his lips to hers, kissing her fiercely.
"Alright," Elena agrees. "Bye Damon," she adds over her shoulder as she hustles out the door. She probably shouldn't trust him alone in her apartment. Not so soon, and definitely not after Ric's warning, but for some reason she does. Call it a gut feeling. She feels good about Damon despite all the reasons not to. And as she pulls away from the curb to head to the store, the only thing she's thinking is that she should have asked Damon what to buy. He's the chef after all.
When Elena gets home, she smiles at finding a vase full of red roses and a note thanking her for a glorious night. It also says to check the refrigerator. She finds a trayful of chocolate-covered strawberries. "Oh Damon, you know how to charm a lady!" she says out loud. Biting into one, she nearly moans at the exquisite taste.
After popping the last bite into her mouth, she quickly showers. Once she's comfortable in pajama shorts and a camisole, she goes to her office. With her notes still spread out on her desk, she flips the switch on.
Jenn Corbin was tall and blonde. Her husband, Bart, was also tall, with almost black hair. To their neighbors and friends, the Corbins seemed to be happy.
At 33, Jenn was one of those people whom everybody liked. She thought of others before she took care of herself. She protected her two small sons, doing everything she could to be sure they were serene and happy. Jenn was the same with the youngsters she taught in preschool at the church, always having a warm lap and sheltering arms when their tears came.
It was 7:30 on Saturday morning, December 4, 2004, when Steve and Kelly Comeau were startled to hear someone knocking at their front door. When Steve answered it, he found seven-year-old Dalton Corbin in his pajamas, his face reddened and tear-streaked.
"My mom isn't breathing," Dalton said. "My daddy shot my Mommy—I need you to call 9-1-1."
Although skeptical, Steve Comeau called while Kelly followed Dalton across the street to check on his mother. She didn't believe she was in any danger because she thought that in his overactive imagination, the little boy didn't really see what he said he saw.
The garage door was open. Kelly hurried beneath it, finding that the door to the kitchen was unlocked. She headed down the hall toward the master bedroom, calling out Jenn's name and getting no response back.
There was light in the bedroom. She could see Jenn lying diagonally across the bed. It was an odd position, and Kelly felt a little shiver of alarm. She told herself that Jenn was only sleeping as she reached out to touch her right shoulder, almost gasping at how cold her skin was.
Kelly saw a trickle of blood coming from Jenn's nose and a few bright red stains on the bedclothes beneath Jenn's head. She glimpsed what looked like a pistol butt poking out from a blanket next to the body. She backed away from the bed, careful not to touch anything.
There was nothing else she could do to help. Jenn's two little boys were always her biggest concern, and Kelly knew that she would never have wanted them to see her this way. Unfortunately, though, both Dalton and Dillon had indeed seen their mother dead…
As the investigation reached its end, prosecutors said Barton Corbin changed his plea to guilty after the police linked the gun used to kill Jennifer Corbin to Bart's close friend, Richard Wilson, who told investigators he gave the gun, a 38-caliber revolver to Corbin.
"The placement of the weapon in Barton Corbin's hands was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back," his attorney, Bruce Harvey, told reporters.
According to prosecutors, Corbin killed both Jennifer and his law school girlfriend Dolly Hearn. He refused to accept that his romances with them had ended. Hearn and Corbin had dated for more than a year but were on the verge of breaking up when her body was found. Similarly, Jennifer Corbin's marriage to Barton Corbin was falling apart in 2004. He had filed for divorce and sued for custody of their sons just five days before his wife was murdered.
In taking the plea deal, Corbin escaped the possibility of receiving the death penalty in Richmond County, where he killed Hearn. Because the sentences run concurrently, Corbin could be eligible for parole in as few as 18 years; he'll be 60 at that time. He is currently serving his sentence at the Central State Prison in Macon, Georgia.
And now for the Las Vegas case; the police obtained a surveillance photo from the Binion Gambling Hall's security cameras; however, it's quite grainy, making it difficult for any identification to be made, much less a positive one. Still, the photo's been released. I've posted a copy of it on my website. If you recognize anything about the alleged killer, please call Detective Elijah Mikaelson of the Las Vegas Metro Police at 702-828-3111.
Until next time, I'm Elena Gilbert, and this is "Someone Knows Something".
Not yet ready to go to bed, Elena pours herself a glass of wine, plates a couple of her strawberries, and retreats to the living room to watch a movie. Spreading out on the couch, she takes a sip of her Merlot while scrolling through the channels. She stops when she finds 'Dracula", starring Bela Lugosi as the count. How appropriate. She's going to have to remember to question Damon about this particular legend and all the lore associated with it to find out if any of it's true.
After arranging a throw pillow for comfort, she curls up on her side to watch the movie. Elena laughs as the first black and white images appear along with the ridiculous music, music intended to be dramatic and creepy. She loves these old-school movies; the atmosphere is somehow all the more perfect because of their cheap sets, black and white film, and nearly non-existent special effects.
"No, you mustn't go there. We people of the mountains believe at the castle there are vampires. Dracula and his wives! They take the form of wolves and bats. They leave their coffins at night, and they feed on the blood of the living..."
As Renfield stubbornly refuses to listen, Elena yawns and loses her battle with sleep.
Elena follows the footsteps into the dark alley, taking her time. She knows she can outrun her prey with no effort. The man notices her now, stopping in his tracks to rake his eyes over her well-sculpted body.
He is quite handsome with wavy brown hair. Her gaze is drawn to his eyes- so green. They glimmer like emeralds. He's well-dressed and nicely groomed, making her wonder what he's doing in a seedy area like this. The man stops in front of her and holds her stare.
"Who are you?" he asks her softly.
She smiles at him. "I'm Elena; who are you?" she replies, running one of her blood-red nails along the angle of his jaw, leaving a bubbling trail of blood behind.
"Ouch!" he blurts out, clutching the wound.
"What? Are you afraid of the dark?" she taunts, circling him.
"Hardly."
Elena smirks and pushes his hair aside, stroking the skin at the base of his neck, her eyes closing momentarily at the thrum of his carotid artery. "The neck is a very sensual spot, wouldn't you agree?" she teases. She can't help but notice the bulge growing in his jeans while she strokes him. "What's your name?"
"Tom, Tom Avery," he replies in a husky whisper.
She can hear his heart thundering beneath his rib cage. "Don't be afraid," Elena whispers, her pupils dilating ever so slightly.
"I won't be afraid."
She cradles his chin in her hand and looks at him intensely. "I'm hungry," she says matter-of-factly. Her eyes grow dark, and reddish veins ripple beneath her eyes. She turns his head and drops her fangs into the soft skin of his neck, drinking gulps of blood. One of her hands moves to cup the back of his head so she can sink her fangs in even deeper.
When she finally has her fill, she dislodges her canines. The now-dead man crumples to the ground in a heap. Sighing, she wipes the trail of blood off the corner of her mouth, steps over the body, and walks out of the alley with no feelings.
Elena flies up from the couch, her heart's beating like a freight train. Her breasts feel full, and her chest is heaving with her gasps for air. When she looks around the room, she's alone.
It had all been a dream...
"Good afternoon, Tessa. Is Elijah in?" Elena greets the officer when she approaches the desk.
"Hey, Elena. Yeah, but he's with someone right now," Tessa replies, looking up from her computer.
"I'll just wait outside. Thanks, Tessa."
"No problem. Good seeing you, Elena."
"You, too," Elena calls over her shoulder. When she approaches the office, she hears Damon's voice and smiles. With Elijah's door ajar, she can hear what's being said...
Having learned nothing from Lexi, Damon returns to Las Vegas, and after getting a good night's sleep starring Elena, he drives over to the police station. He's quite curious why the good detective wants to speak to him again, especially after he compelled him. How is that even possible?
After parking his prized Camaro, he jogs inside the Las Vegas Metro Police Station. "I'm here to see Detective Mikaelson," Damon says to the officer seated at the public information desk.
Before Tessa can reply, the detective appears.
"Mr. Salvatore, thank you for coming," Elijah approaches and offers his hand to Damon.
"Elena Gilbert said you wanted to talk to me?" Damon posits, eyeing his outstretched arm before shaking his hand.
"Yes, let's go to my office."
"Lead the way," Damon tells him, gesturing with his outstretched arm.
Once they're inside, Elijah tells Damon to take a seat and gives his door a light shove, unaware that it doesn't completely close.
"What's this about? I told you I had nothing to do with any killings," Damon emphasizes, his pupils flickering slightly.
"I know you said you have no connection to the murders. Elena mentioned you thought he resembled someone you know?" Elijah explains, handing him the photo.
"Yes, I told her that there was something familiar about the photo. I briefly considered my brother, but he died several years ago in a fire; ergo, it couldn't be him."
"How many years ago would that be?"
"Several years ago," Damon repeats sharply.
"You said the man resembles your brother?" Elijah asks pertinently.
"Wow, Detective Mikaelson, gotta say your investigative prowess is really staggering," Damon retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Excuse me?" Elijah answers angrily.
"Just chill!" Damon counters, giving him back the picture.
"So, you know nothing about these killings?" Elijah asks again.
"I've had enough of this." Damon stands up. He places his palms on Elijah's desk and stares into his eyes. "You will not question me again. I have no information about these murders."
"You know nothing about the murders," Elijah echoes robotically.
"Good day, Detective. Happy hunting," Damon calls over his shoulder, his lips curling into a smirk as he strolls out of the police station...
Elena steps back and out of sight when she hears the slide of a chair against the linoleum. She's both shocked and annoyed that Damon would use that mind control thing with her friend, especially if Damon's as innocent as he claims.
Ric was right.
It's all an illusion...
Thank you. And those I can't respond to personally, thank you so much. The DE fandom is the best fandom.
Special thanks to Morgan and Eva.
If you want to read about the Jenn Corbin case: "Too Late to Say Goodbye: A True Story of Murder and Betrayal" by Ann Rule.
Chapter title: 'Delusional' by Simon Curtis.
Have a wonderful day.