It was the last night of the world. But Elena had no fear about what would happen tomorrow, what retribution would rain down upon them when Klaus inevitably realized they'd double-crossed him, when Elijah realized he wouldn't be reunited with his beloved family. No, what terrified her was tonight.
Damon set her on her feet once they were inside the boarding house and they came together in a tremendous kiss that sent waves of heat and bolts of lightning careening through every nerve in her body. But she was holding back, and he knew it. There was still a reluctance, still a line she couldn't bring herself to cross, no matter how badly she wanted to. He drew back, anger flashing through his eyes, warring with intense need and a fear just as strong as anything she felt. "Why?" he demanded. "I love you. You say you love me. What's the problem?"
Elena wanted to shrink from him, but there was nowhere to run. He had her pressed against the wall, the paneling digging into her back as he loomed over her, ominous and dark. "Of course I love you. But it's not that simple," she started. His palm slammed into the wall beside her head. She flinched. "And that's not helping."
"I'm a little frustrated here, Elena. When I look ahead, you're all I can see, but you're still looking back and jumping at shadows. Explain to me why it isn't that simple. It was easy enough when it was Stefan," he said, unable to resist the barb.
"You aren't Stefan! Everything is different with you, so let's not make this about him." Elena would give anything to not have this conversation. But it had to happen. It wasn't that she didn't want to do this. Every cell in her body was crying out for him, from lips that burned to bury him in kisses to fingers that longed to stroke that cool, pale skin to the low, ceaseless ache that just wanted him. Her body was demanding, her heart was certain, but her head wouldn't shut the hell up and enjoy the ride.
"You think I'll hurt you," he said flatly. "That's what this is. You think I can't control myself, that I'll bite you."
"No. Yes. Maybe a little?" she said.
"You never did it? With...?" Damon broke off, unable to mention his brother's name again. God, this was the worst sex talk ever. Not only did they have to discuss the fact that he might just kill her in the heat of the moment, they had to discuss her sexual history with his brother. What would Dr. Drew say?
"No. He wanted to; I could tell. But he never did. When I gave him blood, I pricked my finger with a pin and he fed from there. It was like getting blood taken at the doctor's," she said.
"Typical." He shook his head. "To feed during sex is incredible; to be fed on during sex is even more amazing. It's total surrender, total trust. And the way it feels...well, it gives new meaning to 'la petite mort.'" Elena had a brief, intense flash of her mirror image, naked and riding Damon, head thrown back in blissful release, fangs dripping crimson droplets onto his bare chest. But Damon's next words snapped her back to the present. "But that's your choice. I'm not an animal, Elena. I can control myself," he said, words tinged with hurt.
"I never thought you were," Elena reassured him. "Not for an instant. I think part of me is more frightened that I want you to." There was no one in the world she trusted more than this man. He'd loved her when she was distinctly unlovable. He'd saved her, even when she hadn't wanted to be saved, even when she was certain she was incapable of being saved. Oh yes, she trusted him enough to let him feed from her. But she'd felt the sharp prick of fangs before, felt greedy lips guzzle her lifeblood away as flames flickered and her aunt lay crumpled in a broken pile, felt the last drops of blood disappear and blackness drag her down into its drowning depths.
As much as she loved Damon, she wasn't sure she was ready to go through that again.
"I won't lay a single fang on you, Elena. Not unless you ask me to. Not unless you beg me to." He gave a crooked little grin. Something within him relaxed when he realized she wasn't afraid that he was a monster, she wasn't horrified by the fangs and the blood. "We could even set up a code, like an anti-safe word." The grin faded. "But that's not what this is really about at all," he finished.
"No, it's not. And it's not that I don't love you; I swear that's not it. But..." an embarrassed flush rose to her cheeks. She knew he could hear the increase in her heartbeat, and he gave her no quarter, didn't yield an inch.
"But what?" he asked.
"I don't want to disappoint you," she said, dropping her eyes. There it was, in all its mundane glory. She was just afraid that she wouldn't be good enough for him, that for a man who had traveled the world, been with the most beautiful women of every age, she would just be a fumbling high school girl trying to figure out what went where.
His laughter was soft and not unkind, but he was clearly finding a great deal of humor in her revelation. She glared up at him, furious. "Don't you dare laugh at me, Damon Salvatore!"
"How could I not? God, Elena. You're such a smart, beautiful, wonderful moron," he said, his arms encircling her waist, all the tension leaking out of him. "That's what this was about all this time? You were scared I'd be disappointed because you don't have the entire Kama Sutra committed to memory?"
More blood rushed to her cheeks. Elena knew she must be beet red by now. "Well, yeah." He made it sound so silly, so inconsequential. But it wasn't. If the sex wasn't any good...well, Damon wasn't going to stay. No matter how much they loved each other, if the physical relationship didn't work, Elena wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't go looking elsewhere to fill his needs.
"I like sex; I'm not going to pretend I don't. And it's true, I've been with a lot of women," he said. He smiled for a moment, remembering a stream of faces and bodies. "A lot of women." Elena smacked him in the stomach. "Oof. But Elena, not a single one of those women made me feel the things I feel when you just look at me, never mind what happens when we touch, or when we kiss." Those blue eyes burned, tender but crackling with desire. "I'll show you what to do. But I think you already know." He pressed his body against hers, solid and strong, hard and unyielding in every way against her softness. "Don't you?" he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
There was no need for words after that. Every touch and movement and sigh spoke volumes. Somehow they found their way up to bed, limbs tangling in sheets, bodies lost in one another.
And in the end, Elena knew exactly what to do.