A.N.: She's back!

Things are going to get filthy


Dangerous Beauty

09

Fair's Fair


His appearance broke up the monotony wonderfully. She had spent too many nights eating dinner out in Richmond alone, playing Wei Qi or Scrabble online with Vera or Cara while annotating texts for her Punk & Politics class and accumulating texts on extraordinary historical women for a dissertation she was working on. It was a simple joy, to share a meal with someone. And she looked forward to dinner more because it was Elijah now meeting her at the restaurant. The first time they had met for dinner, she had wondered fleetingly what people had thought, seeing the two of them together, her a teenager, him obviously so much older, enjoying teriyaki donburi, the miso soup she had been craving all week, garlic-chilli soy edamame, pork gyoza and mushroom onigiri – and a chilled bottle of Prosecco – exchanging tiny touches, laughing softly and obviously flirting.

Carefully avoiding the doppelganger in the room.

But he was holding back. She'd seen it the moment she noted the expensive, understated cut of his Savile Row suit. Charcoal colours, a dark silk waistcoat, a beautifully-knotted tie. In preparation for…this, he had literally buttoned himself up. Hidden himself away beneath an exquisite suit. No-one looking at him in that suit would ever look closer. It was strategic; he knew exactly what he was doing. In that suit he could be the charming, understated introvert. Nothing more; people wouldn't expect anything but what they saw in front of their eyes. They were both tiptoeing around each other; they were the only two who knew the truth of what was going on. The imminent danger – Elijah was just waiting. So many pawns needed to move by the other players before he could choose his next move.

What had he once told her? A gentleman is simply a patient wolf.

He may not be a werewolf, but he'd picked up the scent of blood and would follow it to the inevitable end.

Giulia was resolved not to prevent it from happening - it being the sacrifice – but to postpone it.

She would do that by any means necessary. And Elijah knew that; they understood each other without having to say anything at all. She was too clever to know there was any way to stop it; he was too invested not to see things through to their natural conclusion. The sacrifice was on both their minds and yet…neither one of them wanted to break the spell and discuss it.

To start talking about the sacrifice was death for their relationship as it had been evolving. It would change everything.

Elijah had not come to Richmond for Giulia. She knew that; so did he. They were both tiptoeing around that fact, scintillated in spite of themselves, anticipating the thrill of the game. The distraction. What was living eternally without a little excitement? And after five-hundred years, a game Elijah had long since put in the bureau had nudged and shifted against the doors until it had fallen out of the cabinet, spilling its contents on the floor, crying plaintively, Play with me

It was the first time they had met in person without Elijah's extended family partying around them. And it was lovely; Giulia had him all to herself. For a few hours nearly every day. But it was different – how could it not be? They were no longer separated by hundreds of miles, they were not limited to communicating via heart-stopping texts, saucy photographs, illicit conversations in the isolation of their bedrooms, just wicked voices in the dark ordering them to cup and stroke and squeeze and thrust and pinch and writhe, shuddering, breathless and drenched in sweat, legs shaking, heart pounding, aching with emptiness.

It was easy to be intimate when there were no immediate repercussions.

The doppelganger had changed everything.

There was a searing immediacy to everything now. Nothing between them but air – and the doppelganger. And they both knew that some lines could not be crossed, not if they wanted…wanted what they had been indulging in to last past the sacrifice.

Because how could they separate things? Elijah's…being with her; and Elijah's need to see one of her friends, albeit a poor one, bled dry in a magic ritual.

Elijah had arrived in town outwardly patient, calm, as if he had no other motive than wanting to spend time with her. She followed his lead.

They were already playing the game. And it was titillating that they were playing it against each other. It added another level to the playing-field. Another complication to take into account before they made any decisions, weighing the repercussions, calculating for the other's tactics. Thinking twenty not ten steps ahead.

He had moved some pawns, setting things in play; she was more careful, and more filled with dread. How was she supposed to help protect people from him, when they refused to listen to her? Memories of the Gilbert device, Stefan's iron lock around her wrist just as she'd swung the hammer to smash it, had her biting her tongue every time she leaned towards telling Damon everything.

Would he listen?

If Stefan simmered with his brooding hero look, if Elena pouted and fluttered her eyelashes, would anything she said make any impression?

They would ask how she knew this. Why hadn't she told them sooner? Did she trust her sources? Why was she making trouble? Was she trying to break Stelena up? Was she on Katherine's side? Inevitably any argument would turn into Elena's pouted whimpering that Giulia was somehow set against ruining her relationship. And she might just beat Klaus to it and murder the doppelganger herself. And then, oh, what havoc would be wrought on Mystic Falls… If Elijah had found her, she was sure there were minions around sharp enough to realise they had the potential for advancement in a stymied social hierarchy by turning the doppelganger over to one of the Originals…

She was irritated just thinking up the reactions of her 'friends', of Damon and Stefan; she knew she'd probably want to crack skulls if it ever came to a head. Damon might listen, if she told him, alone. And he would tell Stefan, who would try and take control of the situation; the two of them would activate their Wonder Twin superpowers, acting like the "grown-ups" in the situation, cutting her out of the loop, out of any decision-making process. At least until they had made a few too many mistakes and someone had to go in and clean up the mess.

The only person she could count on was Caroline; but she was hesitant to bring Car into this any more than she already was by maintaining her friendship with Elena. And Giulia didn't have it in her to demand Caroline choose. She wasn't that person.

She glanced away from her friend, frowning at the television as Caroline changed the channel – again. Giulia had been making a snarky and hilarious commentary on every show they flicked through, annoying Caroline; it was be a smartass or give in to the desire to murder something as she tried to mediate, via text, the rising tension in the cheerleading squad. The Classic was coming up, and this new Vampire!Caroline turned into a bigger Cheer-Nazi than any of them had ever experienced when trophies – and her reputation as Junior Varsity Captain – were at stake. Compounded by the stress of organising the final details of the upcoming Sixties dance, ensuring everything was on track for the spring formal and making sure things were set up for the two fundraisers chasing at their heels, Giulia's study-session to help Caroline through her pre-Calculus homework had been a little tense.

Giulia feared Caroline's head might explode if she unloaded everything onto her. Imagining her reaction if she 'fessed up about Elijah made her writhe with guilt. She had mulled over the possibilities of telling Caroline everything as she drove home; her Beetle was making a few noises she didn't like, and she sighed as she pulled on the handbrake, knocking the gearstick into neutral before flinging open the door. Though they had had a heat-wave the last few days, by sunset it was very evident it was only spring; there were no cicadas chirping in the woods, and daffodils and primroses glowed yellow in the dying light as she crunched up toward her front-door, a magnolia blossoming beautifully, a breeze bringing a chill to her bare arms as she unlocked the door.

The sounds of a piano greeted her, a familiar concerto played expertly, and she smiled, drawn further into the house by the sound. She had two pianos in her new home, a beautiful upright piano in the den, and the mini-grand Elijah was now sat at, a glass of wine glinting in the light of beautiful, one-of-a-kind chandelier pendants, his top button undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fingers flying deftly over the ivory keys. The afternoon she had invited him in, he had strolled around the house, so tactile, catlike in his unhurried exploration; he had tested the piano-keys, and Giulia had winced. She had moved the pianos into the house but hadn't had time to organise someone to tune them. Elijah had taken it upon himself to do so; she'd sat listening to him play Rachmaninov from memory, awed.

They weren't spending every moment together but Giulia had reasoned that Elijah might as well bide his time in the comfort of her home rather than pacing an empty apartment. It made sure they both knew what the other was doing – they either had to let the other in on their plans, or be extremely clever about hiding them. She paused at the sight of Elijah playing the piano so beautifully. Slipping off her sandals, she smiled and sidled over to him, tucking herself behind him, fingers pushing through his thick dark hair, trailing down the sharp curve of his collar, the top button undone. She smiled, dipping her head to kiss his neck as he finished the last movement with a flourish of his talented fingers.

Oh, she knew just how talented they were. For all its complications, his staying with her was mutually beneficial – and every night when she'd come home from her platonic dates Caroline had organised on her behalf, Elijah would demonstrate exactly why she would never be satisfied with boys. They had yet to make the final push, as it were, and he was definitely holding back, and so was she; they had discovered they loved to play with each other, refusing to give in, a teasing, merciless game with the single goal of making each other submit – to beg for it. For what they both desperately wanted; if he couldn't tell she ached for him then she'd pretend she hadn't noticed his fingers trembling as he resisted touching her.

The first evening she had returned from the swimming-hole, overheated from the sun, buzzed from exhilaration and spiked lemonade, happy for the first time in weeks, his features had lit up at the sight of her, his face bathed in the warm golden glow of the indirect lighting and candles he seemed to like. His smile widened as he looked her over, his dark hair shining like molasses in the dying sunlight of the panoramic window overlooking the lake, for the first time since his appearance in Richmond, it…it looked like Elijah. Not the suit.

"Hello, lovely," she smiled warmly, traipsing over to him.

"You look happy," he remarked, as if this was an astounding development. She beamed at him, and he narrowed his eyes. "Are you tipsy?"

"Nooo," she said, grinning, holding her finger and thumb an inch apart. Maybe… "It smells delicious in here."

"As a guest of indeterminate duration, I felt the least I could do was make dinner," Elijah said, smiling softly. She inhaled the rich, savoury scent. It smelled divine.

"What'd you cook?" she asked, glancing over to the kitchen. Whatever it was, he'd cleaned up after himself. Elijah was a man who responded to a lack of control in his own life to maintaining order in his surroundings. It wasn't surprising his appearance was so particular.

"Brisket," Elijah smiled, and Giulia hummed with delight. She smiled fondly down at him, threading her fingers through his glorious hair. He caught her eye, and held it, a teasing smile growing as his eyes flicked to her lips and back, hands on her hips drawing her closer. She bit her lip and grinned, trailing a finger across his jaw, and dipped her head.

"If you were to sip me," she said softly, smiling as she gazed into his dark eyes, "would you get tipsy too?" He chuckled richly, hooking a hand behind her head to draw her closer, pressing his lips against hers. This was him, her Elijah, the one she had danced with all night, stole kisses from while they prepared breakfast, teased Ashlyn together…her friend she had the toe-curling benefits of having excruciating phone-sex with, but a person she liked to spend time with, admired, appreciated his opinions, laughed with and was fiercely attracted to, but a friend, too. They had started out that way, and she had missed her Elijah the moment she realised he had put on his suit. The one he used to keep the rest of the world at arm's length. Including her.

Now it seemed he had warmed up. They broke apart, finally, leaving her breathless, and to mask her shaking hands she reached for the glass of Prosecco he had poured for himself, still chilled. She hadn't taken a sip before he made her shiver, tracing a fingertip along the blurred, pale line across her back from a bikini-string that had shifted while she drove home. She sighed, eyes lulled closed as his hard body pressed against her back, fingertips delicately lifting her hair over one shoulder so he could kiss her neck, making her toes curl with anticipation, their last phone-calls, the time they had spent curled up on a chaise in the drawing-room at the midwinter solstice ball flitting through her mind. Almost panting, thrilled both from his touch and the remnant joy of the sunshine, spending a good day with her friends, relaxed and being…well, a teenager – she had said goodbye to her date and forgotten all about him as soon as she had driven off, smiling happily to herself that she would be going home to Elijah.

He had said so the other day, she would be thinking about him while she was with other men. Boys. And she didn't mind that he was right. She minded that her nipples ached, her breasts felt heavy, there was an aching between her thighs, and she desperately wanted to mess up his hair. She broke their contact, turning quickly to press her lips against his, breathless. As ever, he took a heartbeat to warm up; when his surprise had worn off, when he let those walls down, she knew. He let out a tiny moan and cupped the back of her head, tilting for a deeper kiss, drawing her to him. With a gasp, she broke away, shaking her head slightly to clear it, eyes homed on the tiny buttons of his shirt. Those needed to go.

Licking her lips, she focused on those buttons, fingers flying over the lightly-starched cotton. She hastily untucked his shirt from his pants, tearing it from his arms, and blinked, astounded. Delighted, but stunned. Absorbed almost completely by the sight of a shirtless Elijah.

He wasn't what she had expected. She was…shocked. Lulled by the crisp suits, she had forgotten…he was medieval. And she licked her lips again, eyes drawn to the narrow puckered scar winding wickedly from his right shoulder halfway across his pectoral, almost appalled by the gruesome one winding tauntingly from above his left hipbone, curving sharply inwards and up, then down beneath the waist of his pants, and the faded bluish tattoo covering his left upper-arm. Not exactly tribal, they could be mistaken for that; but they were very old, swirling and angular at the same time; they looked like wolves. A smile suddenly lit her face, she beamed.

"Sköll and Hatí," she said softly, a smile in her eyes as her fingertip brushed lightly against one of the faded blue wolves, desperate to touch him but fighting the urge to drop to her knees and lick that scar that dipped threateningly toward the 'v' gently defined by muscle. His torso wasn't chiseled, Elijah had not turned after spending hours at the gym every day working on his six-pack; he had been living a hard life in a harsh environment, a warrior, a Viking. His torso was thick and compact with muscle, but not ripped like he was a CW leading-man, and there was a light dusting of gold-tipped hair across his chest. She locked eyes with him, her smile at once sad and teasing. "Are you still waiting for Ragnarök?"

She'd surprised him, recognising the significance of his tattoo, the warg brothers chasing the sun and the moon through eternity. He flashed his teeth in a grin ever so briefly. She liked it best when he beamed like that, not the dimpling, taunting smile, the charming one he reserved for public, the slightly ironic, patient smile. She had rarely seen him grin but she would always remember when he did; when he relaxed utterly, when he forgot himself, he would grin lazily to himself. In bed was when she saw Elijah Mikaelson beam, relaxed and joyful, truly calm, when he was himself.

Her eyes went to that wicked scar on his hip, winding down under the waist of his trousers. She flicked her eyes up, catching Elijah's glance, and smirked subtly before reaching for his fine leather belt, unbuckling it, licking her lips, aware of her toes curling in anticipation, nipples throbbing, as she unzipped his crisp tailored pants, dropping them to his ankles. Hands either side of her waist on the piano, he leaned in, gently brushing his lips against her jaw, the faint constellation of beauty-spots on her throat, nipping at her earlobe in a way that made her gasp and writhe, awareness shooting through her body. Not the ears, she thought. They had always been so sensitive, ticklish. He kicked off his shoes and socks, she smiled, always fully-dressed, and she panted softly, curling a hand over his wrist, where something cold and metallic bit at her heated skin, as he pressed kisses against her throat, the curve of her neck, his hands resting on her waist, her lower-back.

Her heartbeat rising, pressure-points throbbing deliciously, she trailed her hands over his warm body, the faint scratch of his body-hair, the incongruous silky patches where his scars were raised and warped, the crisp line of hair leading into his black boxer-briefs, she moaned, sighing into his fierce kiss as he held her close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, slipping her hand into his boxer-briefs. He froze, panting, eyes heavy-lidded as he broke away, rigid as she explored. She smiled gently, licking her lips, exploring unashamedly, and nudged his nose with hers before nipping his lower-lip with her teeth, biting the dimple in his chin, leaving a trail of stinging nips gentled by kisses down his throat, she grinned to herself when he groaned as she nibbled and sucked on his nipple.

Panting, he grinned lazily, setting her back, and Giulia raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "Well, then… Fair is fair." He swept his gaze over her luxuriously, making her skin hum with awareness, and she stifled shivers as he reached a hand round to untie the knots at her waist, nuzzling his nose against hers as he let her dress pool at her feet, giving her a gentle, probing kiss before cradling her head, deepening the kiss with sweeps of his tongue that made her toes curl. He drew back, pinching the fastening of her bikini-top, delicately threading his fingertips under the shoulder-straps, biting his lip as his gaze lowered, something sparking in his eyes as the black fabric fell away, revealing her bare breasts. With a delicate smirk, she shook her hair over her shoulders, hands on her waist, letting him look his fill.

"This is new," he murmured, nibbling his lower-lip as he trailed a hand from her arm to her waist, up to run the backs of his fingers against her left nipple, making her shiver. A delicate gold bar pierced her nipple, two tiny beads glinting in the candlelight, decorating her upturned, rosy nipple, the beautiful swells of her high, full breasts. That piercing drew him like a bull's eye, the delicate gold glint, the throbbing of her heartbeat in those two perfect little pearls, he drew her close in his arms, stroking his thumb over her nipple, that piercing that went through him like a shudder, drawing him back into memories he had long buried away, her smile and her heat and that tiny knowing smirk inviting him to admire her, her demanding kisses keeping him firmly in the present, holding her close, luxuriating in her warmth, the scent of her sun-drenched skin, the excitement and anticipation…the game… Neither of them would give in and yet they both knew what they wanted; and Elijah delighted in teasing her. She gave as good as she got, exciting him.

She shivered as Elijah pushed his hands into her Brazilian bikini-briefs, cupping her ass and pressing her flush against him, moaning as she felt everything. He kissed her jaw, her throat, down her collarbone, licked and swirled his tongue around her piercing, making her almost jolt out of her skin, suckling her gently before dipping to his knees, drawing his hands – and her bikini-bottoms – down to her ankles. Body thrumming with awareness, her heartbeat pounding into every aching part of her, she shivered as he freed his hands from her bikini-bottoms, freeing her ankles, before hooking his hand under her knee to drag it over his shoulder, and she gasped and moaned, eyes sliding shut as he leaned in to kiss her. Any embarrassment she might have felt quickly evaporated as sensations overwhelmed her body.

"Elij-ah!" she gasped, leaning back against the piano on her elbows, bracing herself as Elijah kissed, licked, suckled, nibbled her delicate flesh, one fingertip teasing her ever-so-gently until she was writhing, breathless, digging her heel into his back, biting her lip to stop from urging him on. Her toes curled and she groaned, writhing, a flicker of anger spreading through her at the wicked chuckle between her legs, Elijah sucked hard, tongue swirling over that spot, and she growled, reaching down to thread her fingers through his hair, tugging, breathless, as he inserted a finger, tauntingly brushing against her g-spot, ever so lightly, not quite enough, and she shuddered as her knees went weak, hating that he chuckled, using his strength to prop her up, keep her pinned as he thrust his fingers inside her, suckling, licking, nipping, until the world shattered.

Floating, she sighed and shivered, covered in sweat, at peace and delicious, a tangible sense of peace flooding her. Utterly relaxed, happy. Elijah's soft, satisfied chuckle drew her back to herself, the subtle rasp of his stubble against her inner-thigh, gently kissing her flushed skin, and she blinked lazily, licking her lips. Swallowing, she pushed herself up on her elbows, managing to free her knee from Elijah's shoulder, pouring off the piano to cradle Elijah's jaw in her hands, drawing him up, panting as she placed a kiss on his lips. She tasted herself but didn't care, too relaxed, too hungry, luxuriating in hiss kiss. She broke away, finally, smiling at the look on his face, lulled, heavy-lidded, drugged with desire, and she nuzzled his nose.

"Tit for tat, lovely," she said, beaming dreamily. "It's my turn."

Elijah grinned, chuckling richly, and he linked an arm around her waist, lifting her up as if she was no more than a doll; she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him as he carried her over to the sofa. She smiled, drawing back, saw the lazy grin on his face, and smiled to herself.

"I like that," she said softly, as he settled back on the sofa-cushions with her in his lap; she smiled, running her fingertip down his nose. "I like it when you smile." He reached up a hand, curling it around her head, drawing her in for a kiss, and by the time they broke apart Giulia was panting and aching again, writhing in his lap. She broke away, shaking her head and leaning back precariously to avoid Elijah's lips as he sought another kiss, looking hungry.

"I said…it's my turn," she panted, swallowing, and shifted onto the sofa, stretching out alongside him, shimmying down so she was level with hips hips.

"Giulia, you don't–" She gave his fingers a sharp slap as he reached to stop her tugging on his boxer-briefs. But she wanted a taste. She wanted to kiss and lick and nip her way from lips to toes and feast halfway between. She nuzzled the trail of crisp dark hair that shadowed beneath his navel and gave the sensitive skin above the band of his underwear a lick, before biting her lip, pushing her hands beneath the cotton, pulling it away and tossing them over her shoulder, biting her lip as delight spread through her, pricking her nipples, between her legs, hungry again as she freed him, his length thick and swollen. With a wicked smile, she glanced up at Elijah, tucking her hair behind her ear as she curled a hand around the base of his length, and leaned over to brush her lips tauntingly against his, whispering kisses.

"Now…I want to find out just how patient you are, Elijah," she said softly, taunting his previous boasts at being the most patient man alive. He exhaled sharply, his stomach-muscles contracting beneath her lips as she dipped her head, licking and kissing and nipping at that wicked scar, a delicious trail leading to the treats, curving in from his hip, narrowly avoiding his groin, carving sharply from his inner-thigh down toward his knee. It had been a mortal wound; she laved attention on it, shifting to lie on her stomach between his thighs, bringing his knee up for better access, reaching up a hand to tease his nipples, lightly raking her fingernails over the sensitive skin of his inner-thighs, and she feasted. Licking, nibbling and kissing, she suckled him, taking him into her, toes curling as she moaned, cupping his tight balls, swirling her tongue around him while she took him into her, letting her lips lave over his length, grazing her teeth ever so lightly, releasing him with a wet pop when he growled and tried not to thrust his hips.

Panting, she eyed him, giving him a wicked grin, and started all over again – taunting him with the most delicate of kisses, with harsh nips that made him hiss in a breath, with wet licks, sucking his tip like a popsicle, enjoying herself – enjoying him. Taking her sweet time – he was a vampire; he had all the time in the world; poor man probably regretted boasting that the last time he'd kept her from coming while they had phone-sex. In his agitation, brought to the brink and denied the pleasure of falling over it, the walls he had built up had started to rupture and crumble, the way he dug his heels in, the set of his jaw, his uneven breaths, writhing beneath her and trying to force himself not to, his white knuckles, one fist resting on the back of the sofa, one of his thigh, close enough to grab her hair and hold her there while he spent himself. It was scintillating to watch him struggle, to watch every reaction play unguarded across his features.

She gave his tip a delicate lick, watched his entire body shudder. In the glowing candlelight his eyes glittered, panting, and she smiled to herself, at him as she shimmied lower, curling one arm around his thigh, reaching up to graze her fingernail across his nipple, shaking her hair over her shoulder to give him a better view as she took him into her the final time, making this time the most intense, the time he lost control completely, teasing and torturing and writhing herself as she reached down and gently touched herself, moaning as she savoured him, her toes curling as he pushed his fingers through her hair, shuddering beneath her, gasping and moaning her name, once, before his entire body froze, and he groaned, spilling into her. She swallowed, releasing him with a gasp, and licked him from root to stem, luxuriating with every lick.

Eyes lambent in the dark, his chest heaved as he tried to steady his heartbeat, and she smiled lazily up at him, before biting her lip, resting her forehead against his stomach, toes curling as she writhed; in a second, she gasped and cried out, knees at his shoulders, his hands cradling her ass, and she braced her arms against the sofa as he ravaged her, his tongue and his fingers finishing what she had started, what he had started with his delicious reactions to her tormenting him. He'd held out; she couldn't. She stifled a sob as her body gave in, legs shaking, head bowed against the sofa as he attacked her voraciously, taking out her torture of him on her, making her cry out, gasp, grip his hair in her fist, her entire body shaking as he consumed her. She thrust her hips against him as he tongued her, completely unselfconscious, the game thrown out the window, desperate for his touch, his kiss, wanting nothing more than another orgasm like only he knew how to give her. He lightly slapped her ass, reaching up to pinch her pierced nipple, and she cried out, thrusting her hips wildly, twisting as he fingered her g-spot again, sucking on her clit at the same time, making her go numb from navel to toes, shuddering. The world disappeared again as she collapsed, and he caught her by the waist, drawing her into his arms, tucking her against his hard, warm body, still delicately touching her between her legs, the touch that had broken her now gentling her way back to reality.

She panted, on the edge of consciousness, deliciously at peace with the world, arms woven with Elijah's, their fingers intertwined, hips sprawled across his and gently thrusting as he fingered her lazily, she nestled her head in his shoulder, pressing kisses to his collarbone when she remembered to stay awake, shivering as aftershocks settled in. They stayed that way for a little while, Elijah gentling the intensity that had overwhelmed her with his touch, and she finally writhed, stretching luxuriously, feeling better than she had in a long time, the after-effects of orgasms combined with her relaxed day absorbing sunshine and laughing, and she smiled down at him, punctuating her words with kisses as she murmured, "Now that…was very nice to come home to."

His chuckle was low, sexy, relaxed, and she smiled down at him, propped up on her arms; he reached up, threading his fingers through her tousled hair, framing his face with his hands, stroking his thumbs against her cheekbones, leaning up to place a sizzling kiss on her throat. "I agree. Although, I got the impression you may have a little trouble keeping up, darling." She raised her eyebrows, reaching down to grip him, and he chuckled richly, squirming. "Do you always orgasm so quickly?"

Brushing her lips chastely against his pectoral, she shook her head. He grinned lazily, and she narrowed her eyes. "Don't let that go to your head."

Something had changed. The suit had gone entirely; in its place was her Elijah. He wasn't lost; just hidden. For self-preservation. But she felt it in her marrow; they were uniquely vulnerable to each other. And that could either make them exquisite lovers, or vicious enemies. She knew which she'd prefer, though the idea of testing her wits against his made a delicious shiver spark down her spine. Gazing into each other's eyes, for a moment the rest of the world melted away. If they could have stayed like that, entwined on the sofa, for all time, Giulia would have been content. Happy. But the rest of the world called, scintillating, promising terror and delight, excitement, a game they could play together as well as against each other at the same time. Too exciting to miss out on. They met in a gentle kiss, Giulia wrapping her arm under his head to support him as she threaded her fingers through his hair, slow, luxurious kisses, gentle and searing and intimate.

A tiny ping startled her in his arms, and she looked up, panting, blinking around the candlelit room in a daze. "What was that?" she gasped softly, aware of her nipples tickling against his chest-hair, his hand gripping her ass possessively, his muscled thigh between her legs.

"Mm," Elijah murmured, nuzzling his nose against her jaw, pressing a sizzling kiss against her neck, "dinner." She perked up at that, eyes shooting to the kitchen. The scent of that promised brisket permeated the air, rich and savoury and calling to her. She smiled down at him, suddenly bashful.

"I'm starving." He smiled, sighing contentedly.

"We must keep up your strength," he said musingly. "You won't be any fun at all, wasting away from hunger."

"All the good bits will disappear," she said, his eyes tracking her breasts as she climbed off him. She laughed in surprise and danced away as she felt him pinch her ass. In the candlelight he did look quite wicked, but in a surprisingly intimate gesture, he threaded his fingers through hers as they strolled to the kitchen. Body sated sexually, she now had to focus on her very real hunger, and she watched, fascinated, delighted, as Elijah used pot-holders to remove her Le Creuset from the oven, removing the meat from the broth to create a thick gravy with wholegrain mustard and some flour, setting the potatoes and cabbage to boil while the meat rested – all butt-naked.

"Don't you want an apron?" Giulia asked teasingly, herself still naked but reaching into a drawer for a hilarious apron Cara had gifted her as a housewarming present. Shirtless cowboys in chaps decorated the entire thing, with a brown suede tasselled trim.

"Oh, there's nothing that spatters," Elijah assured her, raising the eyebrow at the apron. It always amazed her how easily they could make the transition from steamy dirty-talk to jokes. She chuckled, dropping it back into the drawer. She picked up a little knife to skewer a potato and check they were cooked through, and sighed and relaxed entirely into his arms as Elijah gathered her up, pressed against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder. Entirely relaxed, intimate.

In a thousand years, she would still remember the taste of that melt-in-the-mouth brisket, the rich gravy, the huge chunks of gravy-soaked carrots, the mashed potato and peppery cabbage. She would remember everything about that sunset as Elijah went down on her by the piano, when she tormented him on the sofa, when something happened, and they reached an equilibrium, an unspoken understanding based entirely on their physical intimacy. She would always remember cuddling naked on that same sofa with him after dinner, dozing in his arms, their fingers and toes intertwined, bodies warmed, relaxed, the rich taste of the gravy on her lips as he helped himself to a sweet he had baked himself, the feel of his fingertips brushing up and down her back, her warmth staving off the bite of his natural chill. She would have stayed in that evening forever; and years later she could look back and know it was the beginning. Their beginning. The first pages in a story that would unfold, exquisite and thrilling and full of terror, heartbreak, lust, adventures and people coming in and out of their lives, magic and sparkling wine, parties, warping time, vicious sibling rivalries.

The night that linked them for eternity. Fates intertwined.

She writhed and preened, more relaxed and well-rested than she had been in months, warm and cosy, deliciously at peace. It was barely eleven o'clock; several of the candles had burned low, and she drifted in semi-consciousness, the delicate tinkling of a piano sifting through her mind, aware of one of her heavy blankets draped over her.

For a moment this afternoon, drenched in sunshine with the shouts and laughter of her friends gurgling over the splash of water, the scent of lemonade and burgers on the air at the swimming-hole, she had considered the relief and bliss of someone else having to deal with all this mess – and yet she couldn't see anyone else handling it. Few people knew what she did and she was in the unique position of knowing titbits of information that each interested party knew, and so had composed a more vivid picture of the scenario they were all careening towards without most people's knowledge.

The understanding that she had the power to alter the outcome of this shitty scenario no-one else would see coming gave her a soothing sense of calm, it cleared her mind and allowed her to just get on with things. There was no sense in panicking about the inevitable, or feeling guilty about what she was going to have to do. Someone was going to have to get their hands dirty, and she knew it'd never be Stefan or Elena. And deep down Damon did care what people – what Stefan – thought of him, and was privately hurt that Stefan so easily forgot who his older-brother truly was. But then, Stefan's memory was horrific anyway. And selective. But what he was willing to do as a squirrel-snacking hippie and what he gladly did as a Ripper were two very different things.

Giulia sighed, stretching, preening, and gazed across the room at the mini-grand piano, where Elijah now sat, fingers flitting lightly across the ivory keys.

Cosy in her blanket, she just laid there, listening. It sounded like he was composing something, measure by measure, rewriting things, trying out different notes… She knew he designed and made jewellery, she could remember that cabinet of Fabergé-style eggs and that mechanised starling. She also knew he was very musical, appreciated music more than anyone, but she had never imagined he could compose… She wondered what had inspired him, and smiled to herself, enjoying listening, the way his mind worked, putting the notes together, the composition as psychologically revealing as his suits.

"It sounds pretty," she said softly. He glanced over his shoulder, then played the measures he had been working on in one seamless tune. Delicate, wistful, almost youthful, sweet and surprising and rich, with what Giulia's dad would have called "twinkly bits" if she'd been practicing it. She was stirred by the music, hearing it, strong, entrancing, delicacy and calamity in a dance together, playing off each other, breathless and mesmerising, amusing and powerful and seductive.

He trailed off, playing the simple, sweet melody underlying everything, and Giulia smiled sleepily as she listened, the composition altering, trailing naturally into something that seemed very familiar to Elijah; he played it by heart, perfectly, a concerto, a love-song, she thought, at once wistful and dreamy, romantic, almost hopeful, with an undercurrent that was at once dangerous, scintillating, breath-taking, making her heart skip a beat in fear, tragic and suspenseful and heart-breaking.

If Elijah's soul could be made into a concerto, she realised, this was it. Tragic and heart-broken and hopeful. She listened, and her own heart broke.


A.N.: The song I imagine Elijah trying to compose is based on the 'Hope Theme' from A Royal Affair's soundtrack. I don't know about the song he plays at the end, but if you listen to a combination of songs… 'Dance for Me Wallis' from W.E., 'Melody Pond' and 'Tell Me Who You Are' from Doctor Who season six, 'Far From the Madding Crowd Love Theme', 'Boldwood Variation' and 'Hollow in the Ferns' from Far from the Madding Crowd, 'Carnival of the Animals: Swan Song' by Saint-Saëns and 'Courtyard Apocalypse' from HP7, 'I Am Hers, She is Mine' from Game of Thrones season two, and the final medley from Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2 is very powerful, as well as 'Primrose'.