A long weekend is a productive weekend, apparently! lol

Happy Labor Day, ya'll! Enjoy!


Thirty-thousand dollars was a lot of money to pay someone for running a simple security test.

Elena palmed a stack of bills, letting the paper flitter through her fingertips several times.

They were back at the hotel now, but Damon was still downstairs, talking to the manager about the business.

She had left him to it, and returned to the suite to count the money. Sure enough, it was the full amount that Damon had promised her.

Which was insane, right?

She dropped the stack back into the bag and huffed out a breath as she straightened from her place on the kitchen island stool.

Damon was either so well off that it didn't phase him at all to throw around this kind of cash like pocket change, or maybe he thought easy work for easy pay would make her more inclined to show her gratitude.

But that was ridiculous, for several reasons.

First, not that Elena was proud of it, but she hardly needed more incentive to lust after the guy.

Second, if he was looking to pay for some action, it wasn't like he would have had to come all the way upstate to do it.

Which brought her back to the loaded theory.

Not a hard deduction, considering all of Damon's business pursuits and his highly profitable, illegal side hustles.

Thinking of them turned her stomach.

How much of the cash in that bag had been pulled from hookers bras after hours in the dark alley behind S.I.N.C?

How much of it had belonged to an addict, with family somewhere, worried sick about them?

How much blood was thirty grand worth?

STOP IT! Elena scolded herself.

It was hypocritical to judge the origins, when she still had every intention of going home with that cash and using it for her own purpose.

And if all that bad could be turned into something worthwhile, like saving a little girl's life...then wasn't that better, in the end?

At least it wasn't being recirculated back into the dark and twisted system.

And she had earned it honestly.

Well...sort of honestly. Damon had misled her, sure, but the work was honest.

There was no crime if she was stealing from him with his consent.

Small comfort.


"Do you like lobster?"

Elena nearly jumped at the sound of Damon's voice, and realized he was standing next to her.

She hadn't even heard him come into the suite.

Regaining her senses, she replayed his question, "Lobster?"

"I ordered the Surf and Turf from room service. The seafood is divine here and I thought perhaps you would be getting hungry soon."

Actually, food was the last thing on her mind.

"Sure," Elena forced a smile, "Sounds great."

Damon returned it with a smile of his own, and she hated that her chest fluttered at the sight of it.

God, tomorrow could not come fast enough.

She'd set the record straight to Damon, then she and the blood money would be on their way home to, hopefully, a better life for her family.


The sky had almost darkened by the time they had finished dinner, and while Damon moved the cart of their leftovers to the outside of the door, Elena took what was left of her wine and went to stand by the glass wall overlooking the city.

The twinkling lights of all the surrounding skyscrapers shone back at her with an urban beauty that reminded her of what she loved about big cities.

Cailum was a little grittier than the view before her now, of course, but every metroplex tapped a similar vein when it came to ambience.

The low buzz of the crowds below, coming and going; the hum of traffic and sirens, and street shops, and lives being lived playing behind it all.

It was humanity and connection at its core, she could stand here all night breathing it in and be perfectly happy.

She felt him before she saw him.

Damon's presence was like static in the air, enticing a jolt from her body that was almost electric, even before his fingers brushed her elbow and his chest came against her back.

"It all looks so small from up here," she exhaled, eyes still focused on the world below them, "You'd never know how chaotic it all is in reality."

She felt Damon's lips press behind her temple, just above her ear, "The chaos can not touch us here, cara mia. Push it from thought. Tomorrow's problems can wait until tomorrow."

Elena smirked slightly, and turned to fully face Damon, so that her back was to the enormous window, "That's the catch though, isn't it? Tomorrow's problems still exist...pushing them out of your mind doesn't change that."

Damon reached up and stroked her hair; she had changed into something more comfortable for dinner and had let the dark waves fall naturally around her shoulders.

The brushes against her ear felt nice, as he tucked the few loose strands behind it.

"No," he agreed, "But a break can be good. Stepping away from it all for five minutes...or a weekend, in this case."

She chuckled gently, "Maybe, but that doesn't-"

"Ah, ah," Damon pressed a finger against her lips, "No. We are not going to do that."

"I just-" she tried to say around his fingers, but he stepped away before she could get the sentence out and sauntered over to the large entertainment center across the room.

He hit a few buttons on one of the machines over there, then began pushing the large sofa back toward the kitchen bar.

Elena crooked her head, "What are you doing?"

When Damon faced her again, his eyes were bright, "Actually, it is what we are going to do."

Another rush across the room, a few more clicks, then the lights dimmed and music started on the surround sound.

Damon was silhouetted only by the city lights coming from the glass wall, but it would have been impossible not to see the smile on his lips as he offered a hand to her.

"Dance with me," he commanded, "And forget about the rest of the world for now."


Elena didn't recall moving.

She knew only that one moment she was standing stunned, an empty wine glass still in hand, and the next she was in Damon's arms, palm clasped in his as he swayed her to the melody surrounding them.

This felt oddly familiar, she realized, as dancing was sort of becoming their thing.

If they were to have a thing, that is.

Which they absolutely did not, because that would imply a continuing relationship, which certainly was not the plan.

Damon spun her, cutting off the thought, and by the time she was once again chest to chest with him, she was smiling.

His moves were so fluid, so elegant, she could almost pretend that this was anything but what it actually was.

Not a thief. Not a criminal. No sick children or family blood feuds.

Just a man, a woman, and a song that she never wanted to end.

Then...he kissed her.

Without warning, without permission, without giving a single protest the chance to form in her mind, Damon molded his lips to hers, stealing her breath away like it belonged to him and he was hellbent on getting it back.

Their dance lost rhythm and carefully placed steps became tripping feet, until her back was against the cold glass of the wall facing the city and Damon's hands were planted on either side of her head as his body held her in place.

He kissed as flawlessly as he danced, meeting her stroke for stroke, move for move, teasing and dipping and driving her wild with the temptation he offered.

And she wanted so desperately to give herself up to it.


"Damon," his name was barely an utterance in her throat, but it halted him completely, and those blue eyes, heavy with desire, met hers.

There was so much she wanted to say.

We can't. We shouldn't. I want you. I hate what you are. I love the way you make me feel. This would never end well. This could be the best night of my life. You could break my heart.

In the end, all she managed was a small shake of the head, not trusting that her voice wouldn't falter.

"Why not?" he challenged, not moving an inch, never one to let her take the easy way out, "And if this is about our fucking work again, Elena, I swear-"

"Maybe it is," she found her voice at the flare in his, "Maybe it always will be. You have to know this isn't smart."

Damon's jaw stiffened, "That became irrelevant a long time ago, cara mia. Business and pleasure go hand in hand with you and I."

Ignoring how his mouth curved around the word "pleasure", Elena pushed against Damon's chest, forcing him back a step.

"I wish it could," she admitted, "I wish it were that simple. But it's not. Because whatever this is between us...it isn't casual. It isn't some one night stand that we'll forget about tomorrow."

"Perhaps you are right," Damon didn't miss a beat, "Perhaps it is not some casual thing. Why is that a problem?"

"Because of who we are!" Elena's voice jumped as her throat thickened, "Because of who you are."

"Elena," he groaned, but she cut him off, "No, let me finish. It's fucked up, but despite all the shit that you've buried yourself in, I find myself invested in you. Worrying about you. And if we do this...if I let myself go there with you…"

Unwanted tears pricked in her eyes, and Elena furiously blinked them back, "We both know that you're on a path of self destruction, and you have no desire to change that. So don't do this to me. Don't make me care about you just to have to watch that bitterness eat away at you until there's nothing left."


Damon felt cold.

Ice to the bone.

Elena's hard gaze was unwavering as she tore into him, despite the single tear that was rolling down her cheek.

At that moment, it shamed him...and made him angry.

At her. At himself. At the whole goddamn world.

She could care for him...but she would never be his. Because he was incapable of changing who he was.

"I suppose you have me all figured out," he snapped, holding her gaze in a deadlock.

"That's not what I said," she whispered, but Damon ignored that.

Running a thumb over her tear, he caught the droplet and smeared it against her skin, just beneath that empty stare that he had first found so enthralling, "At least I am not lying to myself."

Her eyes sharpened at the accusation and he chuckled nastily, "You are just as miserable as I am. Spento, remember? I see you, Elena. More than you want me to, and it scares you."

She scoffed, "You don't scare me."

Elena made to push past him, but Damon caught her shoulders and backed her against the wall with a thud.

Anger sparked in her expression, "Let me go!"

"Not until you stop lying to us both," he spat, "Because perhaps the only reason you are so fascinated with what is going on inside of my head is because you do not wish to face the darkness within your own."

"Or," she hissed with another shove, "It's that I know there are some things more important than my life and a little misery is worth it if something good can come out of it."

"And what is this thing of great importance?" Damon taunted, towering over her, "Your sister? Your career? Some lover you've neglected to mention? Hmm...it does not even matter, does it? Because you and I are the same, cara mia. In a room full of people, we are both still utterly alone, and somehow that is easier than having to pretend that we are one of them. Normal, and happy, and whole. Things we will never be."

More tears fell, and Elena's eyes hardened, "Maybe not. But at the end of the day, I still have hope that there might be something better in the future. And that's the difference between us, Damon. You've given up; which means you might as well be dead already."

His answer came out a dry laugh, as her words reflected the harsh truth of his reality.

He had been dead for years.

His body just hadn't gotten the message yet.


Elena regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

Perfect. Telling someone who was damn near suicidal already that they should just be dead. Real smooth.

Damon let out a noise that was half laugh, half strangled acceptance.

"You know," the frustration in his tone had bled away, and those blue eyes were hollow when they looked back up at her, "You are right. And do you want to know the most fucked up part?"

She didn't answer. He didn't care.

"The only time I feel alive is when I am with you."

He pinned her with a final glance, then slipped away, out of her arms, and out of the room.

His bedroom door shut with a soft click, and Elena's body crumbled against the glass.


She sat there for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes.

Long enough, though, for her to analyze their entire conversation over and over in her mind.

I see more than you want me to, and it scares you.

In a room full of people we are both still utterly alone.

You are just as miserable as I am.

Elena wanted to storm into Damon's bedroom and scream at him that he was wrong about everything.

He couldn't possibly understand her, because despite what he thought, he didn't know the whole truth.

He didn't know about the reason behind her intentions, the necessity of surviving, not for herself, but for Nadia and Katherine.

But she couldn't bring herself to go tell him anything...because in fact, he wasn't wrong.

And she hated that he could read her so well, through every defense she had spent years building up.

He'd unraveled it all and seemed to understand her better than she understood herself.

Because he cared about her too...

Perhaps this is not some casual thing. What is wrong with that?

That small admission was tearing into her now, the possibility of being more than just another name on his list a painful "if-only".

She wished things were different.

Truly, she did.

She wished they were different people, who had met under better circumstances and had the opportunity to explore this connection that had sprouted between them.

But they weren't. And God, it wasn't fair.

Because Damon was right, damn it, and she was lonely.

Even with Kat. Even with Nadia.

She did her job and ate and worked out and slept at night, but what was she really accomplishing?

She had gotten so used to her role in life; the support. The caretaker. The responsible one.

This had become her identity so much so, that it felt reckless to rebel against her norm.

But maybe...maybe reckless was what she wanted?

Maybe the reason she felt this irrational attraction to a man like Damon was because he was a reflection of everything that intimidated her about herself.

She was the planner. The quiet one. The hidden one.

The shadow behind her sister's blinding light.

Maybe she was a little scared.

Because Damon saw her; and he wasn't supposed to.

And she wanted him; and she wasn't supposed to.


Her head pounded with the spiral of thoughts, and Elena pressed her fingers against her temples.

Was Damon making things complicated? Or had they always been that way and she was too busy surviving to notice?

"The only time I feel alive is when I am with you."

Damn, she felt that. And worse, was that she understood exactly what he meant.

Her body and brain both went into overdrive when Damon was around, and even when they were fighting, she felt that energy seep into her bones.

Nobody had ever captured her attention the way that Damon Salvatore had, and yes, she could fall for him, and yes, he was probably going to destroy her on a cataclysmic level, but maybe that was better than this slow fade she was experiencing now.

Had been experiencing for years.

She gave up so much of herself to her job, her family...that maybe it was time she chose something for herself.

She heard the water turn on in the other room, and stood before she had consented to moving.

This was probably a mistake, and she was giving herself whiplash...but if she was ever going to take a chance on anything at all...it had to be this.

It had to be now.


The hot water did little to melt the coldness in his chest as Damon sunk down into the jacuzzi bathtub.

Nor did it help his coiled muscles relax their tension.

Though, to be honest, his hopes for that outcome had not been very high.

He was just too wired tonight.

From the sexual tension, to the fighting, to the cruel truths he did not wish to face...Elena had twisted him up well and good.

To the point that he was not sure which he wanted more; to make her moan or to make her bleed.

Hell, he had put grown men in their place for using disrespectful tones, let alone lashing into him the way his fiery little intruder had.

Every instinct in him wanted to teach her a lesson, to punish, to demand pain…

But he could not bring himself to even imagine taking action against Elena.

As weak as it made him feel, he was incapable of hurting her.

She brought out something in him that was soft.

Better than what he knew he was.

Fuck. Maybe it was a good thing that she had pushed him away tonight.

Maybe-

The bathroom door flew open with no preamble, and Damon had just enough time to sit up straight and take in the sight of Elena's shorts and panties hitting the floor before she was climbing into his bath.

He was frozen now for a different reason.

Shock held him in place as his intruder, who was still wearing the oversized T-shirt she'd put on for dinner, straddled his lap and kissed him like her life depended on it.

However, while his brain was playing catch up, Damon's body knew exactly what it wanted.

He went instantly hard and his hips surged up against that frantic little body.

Elena's soft wanton moan nearly made his head explode, and her tongue pushed past his lips as his hands gripped her waist.

She rocked against him, rubbing their sensitive flesh together and suddenly, the ice was gone.

In its place was a fire so hot, it scorched through his veins and boiled his blood.

He took control then, looping his arms around Elena's body and lifting her to the tub's edge, never once breaking the kiss as he found his way to his knees.

Elena's legs went around his waist, dragging him impossibly closer, and her hand was between them, stroking, gripping, sliding-

Damon jolted back, and his hand shot to her wrist, squeezing her where she squeezed him and stopped the movement.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, the words coming out more shaky than he would have preferred.

At least she was just as breathless, "I thought that was obvious."

Her fingers flexed around him, and Damon groaned, "So...you changed your mind? Or did you just feel guilty about our conversation? You should know that pity is not-"

Elena's thighs flexed, pulling him forward so roughly he had to catch himself on the marble edge.

"Do you want to fight?" she challenged, her hands moving to grip the sides of his neck as her core brushed against him, wet and warm, "Or do you want to fuck me?"

That painful ache between his legs answered for him.


He grabbed Elena's ass and yanked her toward him, sliding inside of her with a single motion; their mouths and hips connecting at the same time.

She cried out as she absorbed the girth of him, from pain or pleasure, he wasn't sure, but her tongue was frantic against his and her fingers were trying to pull out his hair, so Damon didn't stop.

Even as water sloshed over the edge and onto the floor and Elena's skin turned red from how hard he had her pressed against the slope of the tub, he kept going, pounding into her every single frustration he had felt since she walked into his club.

And she gave as good as she got, wrapping around him, meeting every thrust, biting his lips, his jaw, his throat, nails tearing into his skin as strings of moans and curse words flew between them.

It was so much more than just sex...it was emotion in the physical form; everything he had not let himself feel, spilling over and out, as they ripped each other apart.

Elena came first; fast and hard.

Her entire body convulsed in his arms and the sounds that left her would have put half of his professionals to shame.

Her slickness pooled between them as she gripped his cock in pulses, and it wasn't nearly enough.

Withdrawing just enough to stand, Damon fumbled out of the tub with Elena's legs still wrapped around him.

They barely made it to the rug on the floor before he laid her down and looped his arms beneath her thighs.

Then that dripping pussy was at his mouth and Elena gasped when his tongue dove inside her folds.

She tasted even better than he could have imagined, and there was even a hint of himself mixed in, which satisfied all of his possessive urges.

He licked and sucked and nibbled on every surface he could find, until Elena was shaking and his throbbing erection demanded attention.

Climbing back up her body was a lovely distraction, though, as he peeled away her wet shirt, revealing delicious curves and soft skin and perfectly perky breasts.

He had to taste those, too.

Elena whimpered and wiggled under him as he teased her nipples between his teeth, before sucking on them until they were as hard and swollen as he was between his legs.

His tongue dragged up her neck, he bit at her ear, then her lips, as he pushed into her once more.


He swallowed her moan at their recoupling and moved a bit slower this time, enjoying the feeling of being with her this way.

Elena was perfect beneath him; small and warm and real.

Her long, athletic build was the sexiest thing he had ever seen, and the softness of her curves was a refreshing change from the high end, plastic types he usually drowned himself in.

All the others were a blur to him now; endless streams of faceless bodies that barely gave him physical pleasure, let alone any other types of stimulation.

Elena was different. He had meant what he said about how she was the only thing that really made him feel alive.

And goddamn, he felt so alive right now.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Damon felt something shift inside his chest.

The vulnerability and trust Elena was showing him was not something he deserved, yet he craved it more than oxygen.

They moved together, purposefully, powerfully; and it completely consumed him.

Elena could have asked for the moon and in that second, Damon would have found a way to obtain it for her.

She was all that existed. All that mattered. The single focal point of his universe.

"Damon," she whispered his name; a soft sound of pleasure as she fell apart, and this time, she took him over the edge with her.

It was the most peacefully undoing he had ever experienced.


Well. That finally happened lol.

Let me know what you think! ;)