A/N - Sorry it's been so long! Had a severe case of writer's block on this chapter but it finally turned out like I wanted. Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter with your kind words and for urging me to update. So we only have the epilogue left, but I've managed to update 'Holding On' (which is now complete) and I've also posted my new story 'Unscripted' (shameless plugging here - sorry) so I think it's a pretty good day.
Hope you enjoy x
Poker
The appointment is scheduled for a month's time. Elena is not happy. In fact, she's so pissed at him that she seems to have forgotten her insatiable need to have him at all times. It's a little disappointing in some ways, Damon thinks. In others, it's a God-send.
He watches her sing Ariella to sleep, her voice so low and comforting that he feels his eyelids start to droop as he leans against the door frame. She's given up with her nighttime attire and is wearing plaid shorts and a tank top, just like she used to when she was still in high school and he'd watch her sleep. Just because she's given up trying, it doesn't make things easier on him. She clearly has no idea what those pajamas used to do to him when she was human (the first time) and dating Stefan. They still fit her though - perhaps a little more snugly than they did before (especially around the chest, but he'll never complain about that) - and he's almost powerless against them. Almost.
Their little girl has closed her eyes and is breathing steadily in her crib, the pink sleepsuit Elena has dressed her in covering her so that all that's poking out are those tiny little fingers and her dark curl-covered head. Elena doesn't know he's there. She only sings like this when she thinks she's on her own because even though it works every single time for Ariella, she thinks her voice isn't good enough. Good enough for what, Damon isn't sure. Everything she does is too good for him. He leaves her to it because this moment isn't for him, making his way downstairs to start dinner.
Elena joins him after a few minutes, drumming her fingers impatiently on the countertop as he adds various ingredients to a pasta sauce. Her knee is bouncing up and down, undoing all the hard work she's put into making it look as though she's no longer bothered by their lack of sex. That appointment can't come quickly enough.
"Feeling okay?" he asks with a smirk.
"Fine." Her tone is clipped. That knee is still bouncing against the bar stool.
"You want to try?" He holds out the wooden spoon coated with a layer of tomato sauce.
"Nope."
"You sure you're okay?"
"I said I'm fine." Elena stands and huffs her way over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer. She flips the cap off and downs half of it in about twenty seconds. He's starting to feel uneasy. The fact that he refuses to do what she wants shouldn't drive her to alcohol.
Damon turns the gas off quickly and practically throws the spoon into the pan. She looks up, her eyes dark and dangerous and he's across that kitchen in milliseconds, grabbing her by the waistband of her pajama shorts to pull her flush against him.
He devours her mouth with his, allowing his tongue to roam with abandon as she moans against him and digs her fingernails into his biceps. Reaching behind her thighs, he lifts her up to place her ass on the counter, using the movement to remove her little shorts. They'll need to clean the counter afterwards; she's soaking. The way she's writhing against the cool marble tells him this isn't a time to be slow and gentle, and so Damon inserts two fingers into her soft folds, his cock hardening as he feels her walls clench around him. Elena's breaths are shallow and he returns his mouth to hers, bruising her lips as his thumb presses against her clit. Her hips are lifting each time he pushes his fingers into her, taking them as deep as she can while he swallows her moans and gasps. She comes in minutes, her body rigid as her orgasm rips through her, her fingernails marking his arm in punishment.
He gives her only seconds before lifting her back off that counter, carrying her into the parlour where he lays her on the couch. She still looks thoroughly pissed at him, and so he simply cocks an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to her clit before his tongue laps at her folds and she's moaning once again. He lets her rest a foot on each shoulder as he pulls the material of her tank top up and over her head, revealing her bare breasts in all their glory. Careful not to give her any leverage - or anger her further - Damon tosses the top over the couch and returns his lips to her body, kissing his way between the valley of her breasts and across to her left nipple, tugging it lightly between his teeth as she chokes out his name for the first time.
He pauses to answer her, "Yes?" but she simply grips his shirt and pulls him back down on top of her, growling without a reply. Pissed Elena is hot as fuck. Wasting no more time, his lips go back to her centre, working her until she's gasping for air, at which point he slips his tongue inside of her and she snaps, screaming her release so loud he worries Ariella will wake and ruin what he plans to do next.
Luckily, the monitor stays quiet and so Damon continues his punishing regime. If Elena wasn't satisfied earlier, she will be by the time he's finished tonight. Waiting until her breaths even out a little, he lifts her again so that her legs are wrapped around his waist and he can walk them upstairs and towards their bed. His cock is begging to be released but he shifts her so that she can't rock against him, his arms working overtime to keep her from being pressed into his centre.
By the time he lays her down after kissing along her collarbone and sucking her neck, she's soft and compliant and seemingly willing to let him have his way. He struggles to hold back a smile. Pissed Elena is hot but sexually cooperative Elena is even better.
If he takes this slowly now, it will ruin his hard work. He intends to make her come so hard that it induces a sleep coma, and nothing short of that will be good enough, he decides. Her hands grip the sheets as she senses what he's about to do and she turns her head into the pillow, the soft down feathers inside muffling her moans as Damon takes her waiting nipple between his fingers, tweaking and flicking until her hips are rising so far off the mattress he has to lay a palm flat on her stomach to hold her in place.
"Please," she begs through dry lips and with screwed shut eyes.
"Not yet."
Not even when he was in full-blown blood lust had he had to exercise this much self-control. He'd better get a damn good reward up in heaven for this, he thinks.
He continues his ministrations on her other nipple until he can see on the sheets that she's ready for him. Flattening his tongue, he pushes it against her opening so he can taste all of her, and that pillow comes in handy again. Elena's thighs are clamped around him, holding him against her greedily as he licks a long line upwards, scraping his blunt teeth against her clit. She's coiled so tightly that her whole body is shaking, so he waits - longer than he knows she needs him to - before repeating his actions again and again and again until her moans are practically cries for help. He's not sure he's ever seen her back arched this far before and he gathers himself just enough to speak gruffly,
"Hold on to me."
Her grip is like a vice as he palms his right hand under her ass to lift her towards him so she has to use his chest to stifle the noise she's making. Sweat is glistening on her skin and for a moment, she looks like she's still a vampire, her hair tumbling down behind her, her eyes open just enough to make her brown irises look black. And then Damon presses his thumb against her clit at the same time his middle finger slips a couple centimeters into her anus. She's done. Her orgasm rips through her so violently that it takes every ounce of strength he has to hold her in place while she rides it out, teeth sinking into his chest so hard she draws blood.
It takes a good ten minutes before she's recovered enough even to speak, so Damon just holds her there while he thinks of all the times she nearly left this earth back when they were running from the assortment of supernatural creatures who used to determine their existence. It's the only thing he can do to quell his own need for release.
"I don't think I can stand," Elena admits honestly, and Damon congratulates himself silently. He lifts her with him as he stands and simply places her in their bed before tucking the sheets around her. She's out before he can even lay a kiss against her skin.
Job done. Damon 1, Elena 0.
X
Things are a little weird around the house after that. She doesn't mention what they did...what he did to her… but she lets him kiss her good morning and good night and doesn't even complain when he sleeps with his back to her one night when he has a particularly painful erection. Either she's scheming again, or his actions were finally enough to satisfy her. He really hopes it's the latter.
Damon decides to test this theory one day when she's sunbathing on a lounger by the pool. The Camaro has been parked in the garage, safely tucked away for the odd trip he takes on his own. It's not safe enough for Elena and Ariella - not compared to that damn ugly Volvo he bought but he knows how much she loves that car. After all, that little road trip to Georgia is where they started really. Now though, he decides it's time to bring it out of hiding for a wash.
He can seeing she's watching out of the corner of her eye; her shades give her away. Once, he was watering the plants in just a pair of jeans and she pretty much jumped him against the wall of the house. Something about jeans and a hosepipe. Seems fitting that he should remove his t-shirt then.
When he glances over at her, she's turned ever-so-slightly so she doesn't have to crane her neck quite so far. She's intrigued, clearly. But in control. Damon turns the water on and begins spraying off the dirt that isn't really there before taking the soapy sponge to clean the windows. Elena's up from her lounger now and is making her way over with a strut more confident than he'd imagined she'd muster.
"Need a hand?"
This time, he's caught off-guard. The decision of whether or not to take up her offer of help is taken out of his hands anyway when she grabs the hose to remove the suds from the glass. She's wearing only a red string bikini and little shorts, commandeering the hosepipe like she's some sort of professional car washer. He's already a little hard and he knows she can tell, judging by the raised eyebrow and irritating smirk playing upon her lips. Now his control is being tested.
"I'm going to make you a deal," she says suggestively, leaning against him to bend towards the car with an accidental graze against his groin. He's definitely hard now. He's furious at himself; how had he not foreseen this backfiring?
"Really?"
"Poker, tonight. You win, I'll keep my hands to myself." She runs a hand from her breasts, down her stomach and to the waistband of her shorts as if to really cement her point.
"And if you win?" Damon's voice is hoarse. He curses himself inwardly.
"I get you. Any way I want."
He's played enough poker in his long, long life - he even spent a few years in Vegas, during which he learned to count cards - so she clearly doesn't know what she's proposing. There's no way he'll lose this one.
"It's on."
Elena brushes her lips against his ear, just lightly enough to send tingles up his spine. "It will be."
X
Oh, it's on. Elena smirks as she eyes herself in the mirror. Pregnancy has done wonders for her breasts and although she hasn't managed to shift all of her baby weight yet, she kind of likes the extra inch on her hips. She feels more womanly. Sexy even.
Underneath the red lace dress she's wearing (red because she likes it; lace because he likes it) is a new lingerie set that she'd popped to the mall for a couple days ago. After his actions that night when he'd been in the middle of making dinner, she'd had to come up with something. A small smirk tugs across Elena's lips as she thinks about Damon's potential reaction toward the naughty little two piece when she ensures she wins.
As usual, he's taken things too far and has set up a poker table in the parlour. There's an air of boyish excitement about him as he sets out the chips and pours himself a large glass of bourbon while she cradles Ariella in a bid to soothe her to sleep quickly.
"I'll take her upstairs," she tells him. Damon nods before kissing their daughter's hair.
"Sogni d'oro, baby girl."
Desire pools in her centre. As much as he's hot as hell when he's topless and washing the car, nothing turns her on more than seeing him as a father to their little girl.
She lays Ariella down in her crib, smoothing the dark curls away from her eyes.
"I'm working on getting you a brother," Elena whispers into the darkened room. "And mama's gonna win tonight."
She joins Damon back downstairs to find a large glass of wine waiting at her side of the table. If she's going to win this thing, she'll have to concentrate hard. Sipping wine will have to be for show.
"Want to deal?" he asks her far too confidently.
She shrugs, nonchalant. "No, you deal."
"How many rounds?"
"Best of three," she states, faux-sipping her wine as he takes a slug of bourbon, eyes fixed on hers.
"Good luck."
Elena rolls her eyes. "Just deal the cards."
X
After round one, he's up and Elena is furious with herself. At some point, she obviously made a mistake with the counting. She knows Damon is doing it too, but she'll be damned if she lets him win this thing.
He deals and she finds herself with a king and queen of diamonds. She stares at him impassively, even as his leg creeps closer to hers so that his jeans are resting against the bare skin of her calf. If he's going to play dirty, she'll do it too. He deals her next card and just as he lays it on the table, Elena strokes her foot up his leg and his eyes shoot daggers at her. Perfect.
They continue exchanging touches until he's raised her and she's ready to receive her final card. Jack. So that's a straight flush. Even if he gets an ace, there's no way he can beat her this round.
"What do you have?" she asks saccharinely, bringing her wine glass to her lips without swallowing.
"Four of a kind." His voice is cocky. Laced with sex and he thinks he's won.
She sighs and he reaches forward with a grin to claim the chips before her hand on his stops him. Turning her cards over one-by-one, Elena smirks.
"Straight flush."
Damon chugs his bourbon and stands to get a refill. Elena thinks he might be sweating. Another round like that and she can claim what she's needed for months. Even the thought makes her wet in anticipation.
"Final round," he announces gravelly as he sits. "You're not drinking your wine."
"Not thirsty."
His eyes narrow in suspicion. "You're concentrating."
"So are you."
"You won't win this round."
Plastering a mask of boredom across her face as she drums her fingertips on the table, she sighs. "Just deal the cards Damon."
He does and she finds herself with a two of spades and a five of hearts. Crap. He's smirking but she can't tell if it's a bluff. The next card she receives is five of clubs. At least she has a pair, but it's a pretty crappy hand to say the least. Her nipples seem to scream their need for Damon's attention. Silently cursing her body, Elena stares across at him with one raised brow, waiting to read his expression as he views his next card. He's impassive.
They continue in that manner until they both have five cards and Elena is inaudibly resigning herself to a few weeks' wait. Her two final cards sucked: not a high card between them.
"Ladies first," Damon drawls.
She takes a large gulp of wine for the first time that evening and winces as it burns her throat. She coughs a little and he looks pleased with himself as she turns the cards over. And yet, Elena realises his fingers are clenching the table.
"Your turn," she instructs. Her heart sinks when she sees a king of hearts and a queen of diamonds. There's no way she can win on high card now. But then he turns the third card over: two of diamonds. And the fourth: three of spades. The fifth card makes no hand category and it takes her a minute to realise she's actually won.
When she looks at him, his eyes are already pools of black because he knows where this is going next and there's no way he can fight her on it. She won the bet and she's about to claim her prize.
Elena flies across that poker table and jumps him, sending him back into the wall hard enough that he winces a little. He's hard already and she knows she should probably take this slow and savour the moment but her own body is crying out for him to fill her and she can't get their clothes off quickly enough.
Damon's the one who initiates moving towards their bedroom and she complies without question. She stares greedily as he removes his t-shirt before kissing as much of his skin as she can get her hands on. He's slightly more tanned than usual due to the hot summer sun earlier that morning. Being human has brought out more freckles in his skin and she loves that he's no longer the porcelain creature she first met.
He drops her to the bed and unbuckles his belt as she pulls the red lace dress over her head. Faintly, she thinks she hears a rip but it doesn't matter because she's about to be fully-satisfied and nothing else matters. They're naked in seconds and he joins her on the bed, ready to swipe her clit with his thumb until she breathes,
"I'm ready. Inside."
She's demanding when she wraps her fingers around the base of his cock and they groan together; him because he hasn't felt her on him like this for way too long, and her because she hasn't been allowed to feel him like this for way too long. Elena positions him at her entrance and he pushes inside, his eyes rolling back at the feel of her surrounding him.
She lets him move at his pace, which is too slowly (but yet, she knows if they go too fast, this'll all be over before it's even gotten started) for a few minutes, entwining her fingers with his until she can stand it no longer and flips them over so she's on top.
She sinks further down onto him, feeling him swell inside of her as he hits the spot she's been desperate for. Rocking against him once, twice, a third time, she groans as his hips start to rise and he meets her with each thrust. Elena can tell how hard he's having to control himself in order to hold on and so she stills her movements for a moment, during which he thanks her only with his eyes. When he's gathered himself, he places a hand on each hip to help lift her off of him so that she has enough force to slam down like she wants. Each time she does, she rotates her hips and squeezes him with her internal muscles so that he's choking out her name and they're both covered in a sheen of sweat.
Now it's his turn to flip them, and he does, drawing her thigh up with his hand so that he can spread her legs further apart to angle himself enough hit that sweet spot of hers repeatedly. Damon rocks into her, faster and harder and deeper until everything is him: scent, sight, sound, touch and taste. They tumble over the edge at the same time, him shouting her name against her breasts as she claws into his back and pulls him closer still as he empties himself inside of her in a hot, thick stream that seems almost never-ending.
They lie there, sweating and sated and utterly exhausted. Damon simply pulls her to him and closes his eyes. Elena watches him draw deep, even breaths of satisfied sleep and smiles to herself. Tonight, it's Damon 0, Elena 1.
