Elena had less memories now, but gained a newer, better one. She thought it over and over without effort required, memorializing it in her thoughts to keep for all of eternity.
Caroline and Bonnie wouldn't approve of Elena's midnight escapade into the nightclub that doubled as a compulsion hook up spot. Ironic, seeing as Elena only heard of it after Caroline referenced it, disparagingly, of course. And who wouldn't look down on it? Humans offering up their blood in exchange for vampires to compel them? Disgusting – of course, it was. But a little voice in the back of her mind wondered.
And it never stopped wondering.
Over several months, Elena had researched. Vervain was to be worn at all times before the "transaction" occurred. Vampires like Stefan who couldn't handle the bloodlust weren't allowed into the pool of applicants, weeded out through a background check with airtight methods that found even the slightest incident centuries back in a vampire's history.
The night started lucky in her first try. She ran into a handsome blue-eyed vampire – Damon, Damon, Damon — whose smart mouth ought to have been shut up sooner with Elena's throat. Damon, another blizzard packing over the avalanche that had become Elena's life ever since Klaus rolled into Mystic Falls.
Damon and she got bored of dancing. Too many people, the music too loud. They kept getting into this rhythm of Damon pretending to compel her, and Elena pretending to fall for it, and then Elena would bare her neck to Damon, and over her jugular vein, Damon kissed and nipped, nowhere near hard enough to break the skin, and the fun was in the fantasy of it. But over time, Elena wondered.
She kissed Damon during the coiling crescendo of a dubstep before the crash came and the song melted into bliss. She didn't attempt to time the bite with the beat, but it so happened that she sank her teeth hard enough in Damon's lips to drag a gasp out of him, and it coincided with the bass drop.
Damon snatched her wrist and dragged her off the dance floor and somewhere more private, a deserted corridor on the way to the restroom or suites—Elena hadn't known, and she still didn't know or care. Damon backed her into a wall and snatched her wrists, pinning them on the wall over her head. He smiled, both fangs showing, and looked into her eyes, an unspoken question in those depths. Elena replied by presenting her neck.
Damon sank his fangs into her, the piercing sting agonizing, but once the shock went away, Elena groaned and relished in it. Every drop of blood drained brought her closer to the elixir to all life's troubles. Her skin buzzed with a warmth that started at her neck and bled out into her whole body, fingers and toes tingling. She went limp, partly from blood loss, but mainly from the lust and eagerness of this occasion. Damon released her hands and with heightened vampiric speed he released her throat only so he could spin her around. He pulled Elena close to his chest, hugging her, and collapsed against the wall. He bit down into the same puncture wounds on her throat and drank from her. Elena moaned, grinding against the erection flush and hard over her ass.
She basked in the singularity of that moment. She felt desirable and wanted. There weren't any stakes. No expectations. No reputations to uphold. Damon clung to her like the predatory species vampires were, and though he devoured Elena's blood, his embrace didn't hurt. Delicately, he held her close, and were they laying on a bed in private, she might fancy it as snuggling with a literal bite to it. It softened the blow from Jeremy soon being compelled out of her life, soothed away resentment over the responsibility thrust upon her. It even made her accept that she could never have Stefan in her life the way she used to.
Damon gasped for breath, stopping for a second too long, and Elena panicked. Things started to feel real without the pain of his bite sending her into a subspace. Limply, Elena ground against his erection, writhed helplessly like the compelled victim she pretended to be, and soon enough Damon's fangs were stabbing her again. His hold on her tightened, his cock flinched. Her eyes fluttered closed as her veins were drained of blood and refilled with the promise of pleasure. She relished in the ease of the present moment, of the meeting a stranger and having no expectations thrust upon her except for harnessing the perfect semblance of a helpless human caught in the whims of a vampire's bloodlust.
Then his fangs went away, as did one of his hands, and the crunch of Damon biting his own wrist cut through her foggy consciousness. He covered her mouth with his wrist and petted her hair, whispering into her ear, "Bottoms up."
Elena drank until she no longer felt light headed, then tapped his wrist and turned her cheek.
He stepped away, letting her collapse against the cool hard brick wall. Eyes hooded, she watched him gather himself into a cool stance: Hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, hips cocked, eyes unreadable as he watched her. Her own blood staining his lips and chin crimson.
She licked his blood off her lips. "I want—" She swallowed, throat parched. "Tell me I've done well."
He chuckled. It possessed the typical mockery of a vampire, but an affection laced it, too. She supposed he felt closer to her now that he'd fed from her, probably as if she were a pet rabbit he decided not to kill but nurture.
"You'll need to be a little more specific, pumpkin," he said.
Elena's gaze dropped to the floor. It made her deeply uncomfortable to voice these thoughts aloud, but that had been the selling point behind this whole transaction, hadn't it? A little blood for anything you wanted. Easy. "Tell me I've... Tell me Jeremy's fine. Tell me he doesn't need me anymore. He's strong, and he's going to achieve his dreams." Her throat ached and she rubbed her palm over the healing puncture wounds on her neck. "Tell me that Stefan was an amazing chapter of my life. He was the best. But I've moved on, even without closure."
Had she? Yes, she realized, feeling hollow with shame. She'd moved on a long time ago. Even when Stefan was trapped with Klaus and killing his way up and down the eastern seaboard.
"That all?" asked Damon, and her breath caught. He'd come closer to her—not as close as before, but even though they weren't embracing or grinding, this felt more intimate, somehow.
She nodded.
Damon gazed into her eyes, and a connection formed between them.