When they get back to Damon's place, his eyes gleam magically when he opens the door for her. Elena audibly gasps when she sees what Martha's done while they been gone.
She feels like she stepped into a literal Christmas village. The tree is twinkling with multicolor lights and ornaments. The house smells of cinnamon and caramel apple cider. Candles are lit and Martha winks and starts the DVD player. Then she hears Burl Ives voice singing, 'Have a Holly Jolly Christmas'. Immediately her mouth breaks into an ear to ear grin knowing that it's 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'.
Elena squeals excitedly and runs into the living room, plopping herself down on the couch.
Damon laughs and comes to sit beside her. "This was always your favorite."
"It is. I haven't watched it since I left. I knew it wouldn't be the same seeing it without you."
"I haven't either," he says softly. "It didn't seem right; it was always something we did together."
Martha appears, hands them each a glass of cider then joins them, taking a seat on the other side of Elena. As soon as the show it done, Damon excuses himself to tend to the animals while she helps his mom prepare for Christmas dinner tomorrow.
An hour later, Damon tells her to put some warm clothes on while he gets his chainsaw out of the barn and sets it in the back of his pickup.
Driving down the highway, he exits onto a gravel road and drives into the Black Hills forest. When the paved road ends, he parks the vehicle and they get out to breathe in the crisp fresh air. The hills that lie friendly in the day - like the pillows of the land - are darkly ominous by night. The sky is of rolling clouds, a thousand greys from deep to pale. In the afternoon half-light the evergreens are blackish-green silhouettes.
Winter trees shiver in the bitter wind, their naked branches are adorned with snow. Clusters of twigs, gnarled and twisted, extend like the very hands of old man winter, ready to catch the soft falling flakes.
As they walk farther into the heart of the forest, the trees stand as passive protectors of this peaceful place. When Elena spots a majestic looking tree, it must be ten-foot-tall and almost perfectly shaped, they start to walk along the creek to get closer to it. Its surface has been hardened by the cold, often unforgiving South Dakota weather.
Hearing a rustling sound, Damon looks up and sees an Elk, brushing its rack against a fallen tree. It stares at them for a few moments before lazily turning around and disappearing into the thick tree cover.
When they finally reach it, Elena squeals as she circles it, finding no bald spots at all. "See I told you it's the one."
"You did," he agrees, slips on his leather gloves and turns on the power. A whining sound soon deepens into a throaty grind as he puts the blade to the trunk and begins to cut the wood...
They spend the evening decorating the tree while 'It's a Wonderful Life' plays on the television.
It's late when she places her small hand in his. Damon's eyes shoot down to their joined hands before darting back up to hers, finding a curiosity and heat in her brown ones that mirror in his own. He swipes his thumb across her knuckles and watched a shiver steal through her, goose bumps prickling her bare arms.
Impulsively, he reaches out his other hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches and a delicious blush creeps up her neck and floods her cheeks, making his mouth water. When her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, he has to bite his own to stop himself from groaning aloud.
"I'm just going to go to bed," Martha winks at her son as she leaves the room and then comes the snap of her bedroom door.
Damon makes it as far as the bottom of the stairs before his control snaps. Pressing her back against the wall with his body, curls a hand behind her neck and captures her mouth in a long, hard, wet kiss.
Elena's lips part on a moan, and his tongue delves inside, taking the opportunity to taste, to feel, to tease. She melts into him, dropping her shoes and winding her arms around his neck, one hand clawing at his shoulders inside the collar of his shirt while the other threads through his hair.
Her tongue is busy too, tangling with his, swiping over his lips, tasting the bourbon that he'd drank earlier. Eventually, when the urgent grinding of their hips demands they move into a room, Damon bends slightly, slipping his hands under her ass and boosting her into his arms, her skirt rides up as her legs part and swing around his waist, so that he can carry her up the stairs to his bedroom.
Opening the door, Damon pushes them inside and falls against it, kissing Elena deeply. Letting her legs drop as his hands travel up her back and into her hair, the friction of her body sliding down his pushes him perilously close to the edge.
Thankfully, she steps away as she turns on his bedside lamp, allowing him a moment to regain at least a little control. But then she decimates it a second later, seizing the hem of her dress that is bunched at her waist and pulls it off over her head, revealing an emerald green lacey bra and matching panties underneath.
"Festive! I like it," he smirks, closing the distance between them, his lips coming back to hers as his hands rove the expanse of newly exposed skin. Skirting up her sides, he teases the undersides of her breasts and then palms them fully, his thumbs swiping over her hardened nipples.
"It is Christmas Eve," she raises an eyebrow, right before tearing his button-down shirt wide open, sending buttons pinging over the hardwood floor.
He quickly loses his pants and boxers. Her bra and panties go missing somewhere close to the bedside.
Backing her up against the foot of the bed, she sinks down onto the edge of the mattress as he drops to his knees, burying his face between her legs and draping her knees over his shoulders, tasting the most intimate part of her. He keeps at it, loving the sound of her breathy whimpers and moans as he licks, kisses and sucks, until her fingers clench in his hair and she hauls him up onto the bed over her.
"Damon, please," she begs, her body writhing beneath his, hips thrusting and nails raking down his chest, making her intentions clear.
"Shit, condom," he curses, when he reaches for his bedside stand.
Elena halts his movement, keeping him pressed to her body with one long, lithe leg slung over his thigh and a hand gripping his length, stroking him firmly.
"Pill," she breathes against his lips. "I want you," she demands, positioning him at her entrance and lifting her hips. Feeling her heat and wetness against him, Damon is powerless to resist, letting his hips fall through and sinking inside her.
The perfection of their fit is stunning, causing Damon to still and stare down at Elena in wonder, only to find her gazing up at him with the same awe-struck expression. An orange glow from the full moon floods into the room casting an ethereal glow on her flawless skin and shining brightly in her molten brown eyes, it confirms for Damon what he's always known, Elena is it, his one true love.
Softly, she runs a hand along his jaw, her thumb caressing his cheek, before bringing her lips back to his for a slow, languid kiss that shoots straight to his soul. When he feels the light scrape of her nails over his ass, reminding him to move, Damon begins to slowly gliding in and out, matching the movement of their tongues. But as their kisses grow more heated, more frantic, so does the movement of their bodies – fingers scratching and clawing, hips bucking and driving, voices shouting and grunting until Damon feels her inner walls contract around him. Her body tenses and a long, strangled moan falls from her lips.
With one more thrust, he plants himself deep inside her, buries his face in her neck and groans out his own release, grabbing a hold of perfection and riding it out.
Blindly throwing out an arm, Damon aims for the buzzing sound coming from somewhere to his right. On the third try, he silences the insufferable noise and flops back down onto the pillows.
"Elena," he mumbles sleepily, stretching an arm out behind him, seeking her warmth.
When his hand meets cold sheets, Damon's eyes shoot open. Rolling onto his back, he lurches upright, frantically glancing around the room. Elena's side of the bed is empty and sunlight is streaming in from the window.
"Elena," he calls again, louder this time.
More silence.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Damon scrunched his eyes closed and gives himself a good swift slap on the cheek, checking to see if maybe her return is just a dream.
When the alarm on the bedside clock blares again, he hits it off. Slinging his legs over the side of the bed, Damon pads barefoot across the room, slips into a pair of jeans and walks across the hallway to the bathroom, washes his face, brushes his teeth then goes downstairs to get some coffee.
"Good morning," Elena greets Damon with a kiss to his lips and a Santa mug of steaming hot coffee.
"Morning, I was a little worried when I woke up alone. I thought last night might have been a dream and you really hadn't come home," he says softly.
"No dream, Damon," she cups his face in her hands. "I'm here."
"I love you," he mouths earning a huge grin from her.
"So...I was thinking maybe you could fly back to Seattle with me for a week or so? I can show you around and we have some decisions to make."
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Martha appears wearing her holiday robe. "I don't remember the last time you took a vacation."
"What about the alpacas?"
"Stefan and Lexi will help me out. You know that."
Damon pauses for a moment; a smile slowly creeps onto his face. "Okay, I can't fight both of you," he pulls Elena against his side and kisses her hair.
"Isn't it time to open presents?" he interjects wanting to lighten the mood.
The three of them plop down on the living room carpet in front of the glittering Christmas tree.
"One, Two, Three! Open Presents!" Elena squeals opening one with her name on it. Folding back the white tissue paper, a pair of alpaca slippers is her first gift. "I love them!" she slips them on her feet.
Damon picks up the one she indicates with a raised eyebrow. In it is her newest record album. "Thank you," he gives her a peck on the lips.
When she opens another, she 'ahs' at the pretty alpaca scarf from Martha. She wraps it around her neck, it's a perfect match to the flannel nightgown she's now wearing. "I love it, Martha, thank you."
Martha picks up a larger and heavier box with her name on it. Carefully unwrapping it and removing the box lid is a new bread machine. She's been hankering for one for a while now.
"Damon, thank you," she smiles at her son. Elena hands her one and it's a pear-shaped ruby pendant with matching earrings.
"You shouldn't have, Elena," her eyes glisten. "I love them."
"I remember you telling me once that you liked rubies and the lore surrounding them. Those were such magical times for me, Martha."
"Thank you, sweetheart," Martha gives her a one-armed hug.
Damon kisses Elena gently. "I have one for you." From behind his back, he produces a small box wrapped in green, red and white foiled paper tied with a red ribbon and hands it to her.
Untying the ribbon, she opens the box to find an emerald cut morganite and diamond ring. "Yes, yes, yes," she throws her arms around Damon's neck knocking him back onto the carpet kissing him repeatedly.
"Remember when we wished on falling stars that night at Mt. Moriah?"
"Yes," she bobs her head.
"My wish was to marry you someday."
Her eyes immediately glisten with happy tears. "That's the most romantic thing ever, I love you Damon Salvatore," she crawls onto his lap and hugs him like she'll never let go...
After their big meal, Damon helps to load the dishwasher then goes upstairs, disappearing inside his room.
Elena wonders if he maybe needs a little alone time to collect his feelings. Several minutes later, he trots down the steps, wearing that Damon smirk she knows so well.
Something's up...
"Will you go out with me?"
Elena can't refuse, not that she wants too. Damon has a twinkle in his blue eyes.
"OK."
"Dress warm," is his only hint.
Beyond curious, Elena doesn't ask questions because she'll know when he wants her to. She comes out of the bedroom with fuzzy UGG boots on her feet, a long coat and mittens.
Damon's waiting for her in a black Tenley molded to his muscular form, faded jeans and heavy boots. There's a black parka resting on blankets stacked on a chair and a thermos she assumes is hot cinnamon apple cider because of the delicious aroma in the air.
"Ready?" Damon asks Elena, handing her the stainless-steel thermos.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"It's cold outside," he ushers her to his F-150. She sticks her tongue out and he kisses her. With ease, he drives out of the property. The highway heading south is clear; snow covering the houses and trees.
Damon makes a couple of turns off the highway stopping in front of a barn outlined in white lights close to a farmhouse twinkling rhythmically, pine wreaths and whole host of yard ornaments. Waiting in front of the barn is a sleigh hitched with two dark *Morgan horses.
"A perfect Christmas for a sleigh ride wouldn't you say?"
A tall, thin man the complete opposite of Santa Claus' build with a long white beard comes strolling out a door. On his head is a red and white stocking cap to coordinate with the heavy plaid flannel coat he's wearing.
"Evening, Damon."
"Hi," he grins. "Elena, this is Mikael aka St. Nick."
Her brown eyes widen.
"I get that all the time," the rancher jokes shaking her hand. "Did you have a good Christmas, Damon?"
His blue eyes focus on Elena and he runs his gloved thumb over her engagement ring. "The perfect one," he replies with a nod.
Damon holds tightly onto her gloved hand as she steps up into the red painted sleigh. The woolen blankets and thermos follow before he sits down next to his bride-to-be tucking the blankets around them.
Mikael climbs on and takes the reins. "Let's go, Rudolph and Clarice."
The sleigh jerks slightly forward and slowly glided behind the sure steps the horses take in the snow. Big white fluffy flakes dance in the crisp air around them.
Elena snuggles into Damon for their sleigh ride. "This is a perfect way to end Christmas."
A dark gloved finger tips Elena's chin up. Damon drops his own till his lips are hovering over hers.
"Definitely the best Christmas ever."
One more chapter.
*The Morgan horse is a compact, refined breed, generally bay, black or chestnut in color, although they come in many colors, including several variations of pinto. Used in both English and Western disciplines, the breed is known for its versatility. The Morgan is the state animal of Vermont and the state horse. Disney has an old movie called 'Justin Morgan Had A Horse', it's about the origin of this breed and I still love the old Disney classics.
Huge thanks to all of you. It means so much that you enjoy our stories.
Also Eva - my writing partner extraordinaire - Siberia21 is her author name - surprised me with a birthday story. She posted part 1. It's called 'Christmas Carol' and it's fantastic.
I did post another Christmas one-shot yesterday, Eva's annual gift. "The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year'. It's a fun one.
Chapter title: 'Swinging On A Star' by Bing Crosby.
Merry Christmas everyone.