Author: Alicia of the Temptation.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, materials, etc, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is, in no way, associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Title: Wicked.
Rating: Mature.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries, (Television Series.)
Summary: His relationship with Damon Salvatore felt like a dream. A dream within a dream, within a dream.
Word Count: 510.
Warnings: AU, Slash, and Literary and Biblical References.
Two
His relationship with Damon Salvatore felt like a dream. A dream within a dream, within a dream. While Damon was his usual self around all others – loquacious, scheming, crude – around Jeremy, he was almost someone else. Jeremy never worried if Damon's hands would bruise his skin, and would only feel how soft and sure they were against his hips. He would never fear the vampire's upcoming mouth, for the only redness seen on his body would be his bruised, swollen lips.
At night, only at night, would Jeremy see who the vampire really was. As a friend, Damon would listen to every complaint, every fear, every love Jeremy had. Listen for hours on end and only comment once in a while. As a companion, the vampire would hold onto the boy's hand and remain by his side. Oh, but as a lover. As a lover, Jeremy's heart ached and his hands reached. And there would be Damon, always holding onto his hand – white against white hand.
"A pilgrim's kiss,..." the vampire would murmur.
And no one – no soul: mortal, immortal, or undead – would be witness to their first kiss.
As odd, as strange, as wondrously delirious as it sounded, Jeremy preferred it. He grew tired of the bad girls, the girls with hardly a toe on the ground. The women who always wanted to be bad, and the men who always did their worse to boys like him. Damon was a blessing in disguise, an angel of mercy, rather than death.
"Oh, how you have fallen from Heaven," he breathed, truth on tongue, "morning star. Son of the Dawn."
Lucifer was he. Damon. Beautiful and wretched, and powerful. But, he did not tempt Jeremy with the apple – for he need it not.
His kiss was temptation enough.
Everything Damon was – cold, powerful, passionate – flew into a kiss during midnight, when Jeremy was left alone and waiting. A kiss upon a hungry mouth, a kiss upon a milky neck, upon pebbled nipples and smooth belly. A kiss upon quivering thighs and strong hips. A kiss upon a leaking cock and flushed hole. Jeremy was gone with that kiss; a gasping, whimpering pathetic mess for that kiss.
Morning light would make their relationship polite. Hold hands at sunrise, smile at each other as Damon dropped the boy off at Mystic High, smile again as he picked Jeremy up. Tip the boy-bartender with a kiss rather than a dollar. Have Elena roll her eyes at their long embraces, Caroline coo as Jeremy kissed the tip of Damon's nose, Stefan, Matt and Tyler gag as the eldest Salvatore boasted about his adventures with the Gilbert boy-hunter.
But when night fell, Jeremy would lie against Damon's bed, and have Damon against him. Have their lips touch, not like pilgrim's, but like Gods. Whimpering, moaning, gasping Gods as the vampire fucked and moved into Jeremy.
A dream, within a dream, within a dream of experiences and emotions. And Jeremy was more than happy with that.