Leaving Chicago

Christ, he hated her voice. It had been awhile, but he'd have recognized that nasal tone anywhere. Katherine. As if he gave a shit where Stefan and Klaus were. But he couldn't shake their brief conversation.

He'd returned to the boarding house. Jeremy had fallen back to sleep but he was restless. Sex with women drove him to seek blood, to want to kill indiscriminately. He lusted for blood during and after coitus with the fairer sex.

But with Jeremy it was different. Sex with the younger man usually took the edge off. Their nights together left him calmer, feeling almost sane. He wasn't sure why.

Maybe it was because the teen held nothing back in bed. Jeremy was totally uninhibited during sex, never reluctant, never coy. No words needed, no coaxing required. No emotional intimacy needed in order to elicit wild, passionate sex. Essentially, no drama.

But tonight had been different. He had sensed something was troubling Jeremy, that his mind was elsewhere. The youngster had refused to share, claiming only that talking to Matt about Vicki had brought back bad memories. Yet, he wasn't buying it. He knew there was more going on for the teen but he had been unable to get Jeremy to confide in him.

And now Katherine. Damn her and her interference. Couldn't she learn to leave well enough alone? And now he knew where Stefan was. And Elena wanted to see the Ripper, so….

He made a quick decision, returned to the Gilbert homestead, ignored his desire to kiss the still sleeping Jeremy, and instead, woke a less-than-pleased Elena with his new plan.

Which was to track Stefan to Chicago. Elena needed to see Stefan, as he was now, in order to fully comprehend that there was no going back. She had to grasp that there could be no future with the dearly departed Salvatore brother. He wanted her to get it through her thick (albeit pretty) head that he was it, her hope for brighter tomorrows rested with him, NOT Stefan. And then maybe she'd quit wasting her time angsting over something that could never be. Stefan-turned-Ripper would never return to Elena-the-Humane.

Where Jeremy fit into this newly hatched plan, he wasn't sure. He'd worry about that later. Once this stupid trip to Chicago was over.

Jesus Christ. That Klaus was a total prick. His chest still hurt from the stabbing he'd been forced to endure at the hands of that freak of nature. Never mind the humiliation he had tolerated just to buy Elena some time with Stefan-the-Saint-Recently-Turned-Ripper. Stefan, who was totally deluded by the way, if he thought that Klaus wouldn't find out that Elena was still alive.

That creepy supernatural was a complete megalomaniac. Refusing his, Damon Salvatore's, proposal to trade places with Stefan. Seriously. Who wouldn't give their eyeteeth for the opportunity to swap out the insipid, boring sibling for the more fiery, thrill-seeking Salvatore? Although, to be fair, he actually hadn't meant the offer. He had just wanted to learn more about the fascination Stefan seemed to hold for the hybrid.

Which had been a fail. Klaus apparently was a master of the 'playing it close to the chest' game. So he was none the wiser as to why Klaus was so frigging obsessed with Stefan.

But, on a brighter note, Stefan had told Elena to fuck off. In no uncertain terms. Therefore, the road trip hadn't been a complete wash.

Although, unfortunately, the broken hearted girl had cried the entire way back to Mystic Falls, apparently crushed by Stefan's final words, "I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to be with you."

He, himself, would never forget those words. Because she must have repeated them a million friggin' times. Over and over. Ad nauseum. But he'd let her go on. He liked seeing her suffer. After all, he'd had to suffer. Having to watch her with his brother all this time. And now she couldn't have Stefan, her supposed true love. Just like he couldn't have her.

He had finally dropped her off at the Gilbert home, had feigned concern, begged her to be OK, and told her he'd see her tomorrow for the Founders' Party. Then got the hell out of there as fast as his car would go.

He sighed and stepped into the shower. The scalding water felt good, his wounds had healed but he felt slightly dirty from his encounter with that insane vampire posing as a werewolf. Closed his eyes and let the water pour over him.

He heard the tiptoed footsteps in the hallway, the bathroom door slowly creaking open, the hurriedly shed clothes hitting the tiled floor. He smiled despite his bad mood when strong arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him backwards.

"Where the hell have you been?" Asked Jeremy. "I must have messaged you like half a dozen times today and another dozen times tonight. Off imbibing on brunettes? Or are you sampling blondes these days?" The teen reached for the soap and began to lather his still tender chest.

"Gently, gently" he admonished, cringing involuntarily from Jeremy's touch. The younger male stepped around him, peered through the streaming water, attempting to scrutinize his pectoral area.

"What's wrong, Damon? Are you injured? Has someone hurt you? What exactly have you been up to?" His low spirits were buoyed by the concern in Jeremy's voice, the urgency with which the teen questioned him. It was almost as if the lad cared.

He chose not to answer. Kissed the worried youngster. Hard. Jeremy responded by choking. "Water" he gasped, pulling back. "Up the nose. I don't think I'm a fan of shower sex. Too, um, wet."

He nuzzled Jeremy's neck. "I thought the whole point of sex was to get wet. In here we just have a head start." He started sucking gently on the dripping, tender flesh, knowing full well how this drove the teen wild. But Jeremy shook his head, pushed him away.

"I said no, Damon. I shouldn't have come in here. It was a mistake. I'm sorry, I'm going to get out now." Jeremy backed awkwardly out of the shower stall. Grabbing a towel he headed into the bedroom.

Ok, that was rather bizarre. Turning off the now-tepid water, he followed Jeremy out of the steamy room. The teen was sitting on the end of the bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees.

He knelt in front of Jeremy and placed his hands over the boy's. "What is it, Jeremy? What happened in there?" The boy lifted his head. Oh, Christ. Not those Bambi eyes again.

"The water choking me. Made me think of my parents. Stupid, eh?" Kind of. But he wasn't about to say that aloud. Instead he decided to go with "No. Not at all. Memories can grab us at any time. I'm just sorry that you are still missing your parents so much. I wish I could help."

Jeremy regarded him thoughtfully. God, those eyes. He wished he could read them, wondered what was behind Jeremy's brooding expression. Instead he just fell into those brown pools. He wanted him. Now.

Jeremy's lips parted. He allowed his mouth to be explored, to be dominated. Jeremy dropped his damp towel and dragged himself backwards, using his elbows, up towards the head of the bed. He followed, also naked, crawling, hands and knees on either side of the retreating form.

Leaning over the face he had come to think of as beautiful, he whispered, "Open your eyes, Jeremy. I want you to look at me. You're so fucking gorgeous. I need to look at you. I want to be inside you. Please. Let me make you feel good, make you forget your pain."

Jeremy moaned, the sound barely discernible. The teen reached up and pulled him down. There was no space between them. He could feel every inch of Jeremy. Jeremy's arms were around his back, stroking him, gripping his ass.

How could someone feel so perfect? Taste so wonderful? He couldn't stop kissing him. The teen was like an obsession, a drug. He loved Jeremy's lips, his chin, his neck. He adored his chest, his stomach, his dick. He couldn't stop touching him.

Jeremy began to call out his name, always a sign of his increasing arousal. He could feel both his and Jeremy's cock hardening, stiffening between their moving bodies.

He licked his fingers, reached down and found some space. Pushed his fingers inside Jeremy. Shit, so tight. So hot. Jeremy found a rhythm, ground his hips. His fingers entered and re-entered Jeremy's body, twisting and turning. In no time, it wasn't enough.

"Jer" he whispered into the boy's ear, tickling through wet hair, "I want to fuck you."

"Yeah, OK. Now, please" was the panted response.

He wanted to keep looking at Jeremy. Into those eyes. Those eyes haunted him, made him want to disappear into Jeremy. To be a part of him, with no boundaries. No guise, no guile. Just together, the two of them. No Elena, no Stefan. No one else.

So he stayed on top. Placed Jeremy's long legs over his shoulders. And slowly, gently entered the willing body. Didn't take his eyes off Jeremy's. Watched the boy's eyes widen. Not in pain but in wonder.

He started to move, again, slowly, gently. Held Jeremy's gaze. Watched the dark eyes turn almost black with pleasure, desire. "Holy shit, Damon. That feels so fucking good. Weird, but definitely good." They both started to laugh.

"Now move faster," demanded Jeremy. And he obeyed.