[fic] Size Matters
Title: Size Matters
Author: badboy_fangirl
Characters/Pairings: Elena POV; Damon/Elena
Word Count: ~1300
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything through 4x05, but sometime in the undetermined future, without regard to Stefan.
Summary: Elena thinks about...things...which leads her to do things...
Author's notes: So, this continues the week-long tribute to Ian's penis. Lesbians everywhere are invited to enjoy this feature ;-) Also, when blocked with writing, write smut, it will cure you! Gif care of arabian.
Elena lies in bed, fantasizing. Not about blood, not about people she'd like to kill. It would be easier if those were the thoughts in her head this fine evening.
Instead, she's thinking about Damon. Specifically, his penis.
(She saw it once, you know.)
There was something odd about being a vampire - okay, there were lots of things that were odd about being a vampire. Her heightened senses weren't just in the present tense. Sure, everything around her was amplified by a million; when she focused her hearing, hearts pumping, blood running hotly through veins, even the other sounds of the human body could be easily discerned.
But her memories? They were enhanced, too. Not just the compelled-away ones that she replayed because she was less familiar with them (yes, that's why she thought about them, because puzzling them out would help her stop thinking about blood, and ripping people's throats out, so yes, in some ways, thinking of Damon was really helpful).
So that hot summer day, when Stefan had been God knows where killing God knows who with Klaus, and Damon had given her a little show? One she quickly spun around to avoid? Covered her eyes so she didn't see it anymore? Yeah, all of that was for naught, because now, she could close her eyes, conjure the moment and see everything in high definition, slo-mo. (She remembers so well because it was her birthday.)
And, because it was a sight to behold.
Elena likes sex, has always enjoyed it, and had been lucky enough to have partners who she'd had good experiences with. She's not shy about that sort of thing, but nor is she overly fascinated with the male anatomy. In fact, she remembers giggling madly the first time she saw Matt's, because it was funny looking; they all are, really. It's actually much better not to look, but just to grab and learn by touch. They are amazing to caress, to feel throb in your hands, or inside you, hardness sheathed in the softest skin. And the evidence of how you make their owners feel, how your lightest touch there can make them gasp and groan, or call your name? That was power that had always turned Elena on. The idea of doing that to Damon was particularly arousing.
But to actually admire penises? Not so much.
Until Damon. Because of Damon? Because Damon was, like, big.
And even though she'd thought about having sex with Damon before she became a vampire, she has never thought about how he would feel, specifically, inside of her, until her heightened senses and memories seemed to cause her to fixate on it.
Now, she finds herself thinking about it, a lot. Could she take him? Would he fit? How amazing would it feel, to be filled up like that? There would be no room for anything else.
Just Damon. Always Damon. Damon forever.
It was a terrifying, fascinating thought. Consumed, from the inside out.
She lies in her bed, her fingers rubbing between her legs, and even though she orgasms, she still feels empty. She longs for him, there, in that aching space.
(She longs for him, period.)
A lesson her mother taught her from a young age: You are what you think.
And if you think about something long enough, well, you'll probably end up doing it.
Doing him.
They're at Ric's loft, and Damon's all business. He's trying to read maps and figure out secret hieroglyphic things that will supposedly lead to something that will solve all their problems (Elena has adopted pure skepticism now that she's a vampire), but mostly he just wants to figure it out before Klaus, because, well, he's Damon.
She's standing next to him at the desk, oddly fascinated with his hands as they smooth over map corners, following lines from point A to point B, and before she really even knows she's going to do it, she's slid much closer to him and unfastened his pants.
He goes very, very still.
"Um, Elena?" he asks as her hand slips inside the widening V.
"I thought so," she murmurs, and his eyes are on her lips, and his pupils are dilated to the point that there is only a thin rim of baby blue visible.
"You thought....w-what?" he asks, his voice shaking as her palm rounds the tip and pulls him free.
"No underwear."
She squeezes him, because he's already wonderfully hard with hardly any coaxing on her part. His eyes fall shut, an ecstatic agony across his face.
She strokes him and he starts breathing heavily, and Elena can feel the heat pooling between her own legs. He is big; it hadn't been some odd trick her mind had been playing on her. Her hand is small, so even as she encircles him and he continues to grow to fulness, she can't help but think of what a tight fit it will be. And how much she wants him there, against her, inside her, moving back and forth.
She closes her eyes in mythical sensation, the idea nearly enough to get her there since she's holding him, and he's throbbing in her palm. Her name becomes this strangled question forcing itself from his throat. His hand surrounds hers, stilling her movements, and he asks breathlessly, "Have you gone around the bend again?"
She opens her eyes and their gazes meet. His lips are parted in a way that makes her want to plunge her tongue into his mouth, and the expression of hope warring with desire warring with disbelief across his face is almost too much for her heart to take.
She's been fantasizing about taking his cock into her body, but she knows she already owns everything about him. He is hers, and it feels like he always has been.
(He wants it so much that it's infected her, too.)
"No," she answers. "No, I'm perfectly sane at the moment."
He manages a smirk, even though the tip of his cock has started leaking into her hand. "I really don't think so," he grits out.
She leans closer, so their faces are much closer together. "I want you," and she strokes him again for good measure, even though his hand around hers is somewhat constricting. "I want you, inside me," she whispers, and then she captures his mouth with her own and the rest becomes a blurry haze.
Once she's naked beneath him, and he's holding her legs open, she can't take her eyes off him. He catches her knees with his upper arms and pushes her wide, but she's watching his cock as it comes into contact with her body.
They both whimper a little and her hands fly up to brace against his shoulders. Their eyes connect and as he starts pushing into her, she digs her nails into his skin. "Oh, god," she breathes, because she knew it would feel like this. Almost too much, but still not enough, never enough, not until he's all the way in.
But he takes his time, he soothes her with little touches against the back of her thigh, turns his head to press open-mouthed kisses to the inside of her knee. "You feel so good," he whispers, and she can see everything burning on his face.
This is not a moment where he can hide anything, and she's actually glad for once.
She bucks up into him, forcing him to drive himself home, and their whimpers turn into full-throated groans. Once he's all the way in she doesn't let him pretend to be in control any longer. She flips them over so she's on top, and when he looks at her questioningly, she answers, "I want to feel you, like this."
Then she starts moving, and by the time they reach the summit, Elena knows.
There is no room for anyone but Damon.
Author: badboy_fangirl
Characters/Pairings: Elena POV; Damon/Elena
Word Count: ~1300
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything through 4x05, but sometime in the undetermined future, without regard to Stefan.
Summary: Elena thinks about...things...which leads her to do things...
Author's notes: So, this continues the week-long tribute to Ian's penis. Lesbians everywhere are invited to enjoy this feature ;-) Also, when blocked with writing, write smut, it will cure you! Gif care of arabian.
Elena lies in bed, fantasizing. Not about blood, not about people she'd like to kill. It would be easier if those were the thoughts in her head this fine evening.
Instead, she's thinking about Damon. Specifically, his penis.
(She saw it once, you know.)
There was something odd about being a vampire - okay, there were lots of things that were odd about being a vampire. Her heightened senses weren't just in the present tense. Sure, everything around her was amplified by a million; when she focused her hearing, hearts pumping, blood running hotly through veins, even the other sounds of the human body could be easily discerned.
But her memories? They were enhanced, too. Not just the compelled-away ones that she replayed because she was less familiar with them (yes, that's why she thought about them, because puzzling them out would help her stop thinking about blood, and ripping people's throats out, so yes, in some ways, thinking of Damon was really helpful).
So that hot summer day, when Stefan had been God knows where killing God knows who with Klaus, and Damon had given her a little show? One she quickly spun around to avoid? Covered her eyes so she didn't see it anymore? Yeah, all of that was for naught, because now, she could close her eyes, conjure the moment and see everything in high definition, slo-mo. (She remembers so well because it was her birthday.)
And, because it was a sight to behold.
Elena likes sex, has always enjoyed it, and had been lucky enough to have partners who she'd had good experiences with. She's not shy about that sort of thing, but nor is she overly fascinated with the male anatomy. In fact, she remembers giggling madly the first time she saw Matt's, because it was funny looking; they all are, really. It's actually much better not to look, but just to grab and learn by touch. They are amazing to caress, to feel throb in your hands, or inside you, hardness sheathed in the softest skin. And the evidence of how you make their owners feel, how your lightest touch there can make them gasp and groan, or call your name? That was power that had always turned Elena on. The idea of doing that to Damon was particularly arousing.
But to actually admire penises? Not so much.
Until Damon. Because of Damon? Because Damon was, like, big.
And even though she'd thought about having sex with Damon before she became a vampire, she has never thought about how he would feel, specifically, inside of her, until her heightened senses and memories seemed to cause her to fixate on it.
Now, she finds herself thinking about it, a lot. Could she take him? Would he fit? How amazing would it feel, to be filled up like that? There would be no room for anything else.
Just Damon. Always Damon. Damon forever.
It was a terrifying, fascinating thought. Consumed, from the inside out.
She lies in her bed, her fingers rubbing between her legs, and even though she orgasms, she still feels empty. She longs for him, there, in that aching space.
(She longs for him, period.)
A lesson her mother taught her from a young age: You are what you think.
And if you think about something long enough, well, you'll probably end up doing it.
Doing him.
They're at Ric's loft, and Damon's all business. He's trying to read maps and figure out secret hieroglyphic things that will supposedly lead to something that will solve all their problems (Elena has adopted pure skepticism now that she's a vampire), but mostly he just wants to figure it out before Klaus, because, well, he's Damon.
She's standing next to him at the desk, oddly fascinated with his hands as they smooth over map corners, following lines from point A to point B, and before she really even knows she's going to do it, she's slid much closer to him and unfastened his pants.
He goes very, very still.
"Um, Elena?" he asks as her hand slips inside the widening V.
"I thought so," she murmurs, and his eyes are on her lips, and his pupils are dilated to the point that there is only a thin rim of baby blue visible.
"You thought....w-what?" he asks, his voice shaking as her palm rounds the tip and pulls him free.
"No underwear."
She squeezes him, because he's already wonderfully hard with hardly any coaxing on her part. His eyes fall shut, an ecstatic agony across his face.
She strokes him and he starts breathing heavily, and Elena can feel the heat pooling between her own legs. He is big; it hadn't been some odd trick her mind had been playing on her. Her hand is small, so even as she encircles him and he continues to grow to fulness, she can't help but think of what a tight fit it will be. And how much she wants him there, against her, inside her, moving back and forth.
She closes her eyes in mythical sensation, the idea nearly enough to get her there since she's holding him, and he's throbbing in her palm. Her name becomes this strangled question forcing itself from his throat. His hand surrounds hers, stilling her movements, and he asks breathlessly, "Have you gone around the bend again?"
She opens her eyes and their gazes meet. His lips are parted in a way that makes her want to plunge her tongue into his mouth, and the expression of hope warring with desire warring with disbelief across his face is almost too much for her heart to take.
She's been fantasizing about taking his cock into her body, but she knows she already owns everything about him. He is hers, and it feels like he always has been.
(He wants it so much that it's infected her, too.)
"No," she answers. "No, I'm perfectly sane at the moment."
He manages a smirk, even though the tip of his cock has started leaking into her hand. "I really don't think so," he grits out.
She leans closer, so their faces are much closer together. "I want you," and she strokes him again for good measure, even though his hand around hers is somewhat constricting. "I want you, inside me," she whispers, and then she captures his mouth with her own and the rest becomes a blurry haze.
Once she's naked beneath him, and he's holding her legs open, she can't take her eyes off him. He catches her knees with his upper arms and pushes her wide, but she's watching his cock as it comes into contact with her body.
They both whimper a little and her hands fly up to brace against his shoulders. Their eyes connect and as he starts pushing into her, she digs her nails into his skin. "Oh, god," she breathes, because she knew it would feel like this. Almost too much, but still not enough, never enough, not until he's all the way in.
But he takes his time, he soothes her with little touches against the back of her thigh, turns his head to press open-mouthed kisses to the inside of her knee. "You feel so good," he whispers, and she can see everything burning on his face.
This is not a moment where he can hide anything, and she's actually glad for once.
She bucks up into him, forcing him to drive himself home, and their whimpers turn into full-throated groans. Once he's all the way in she doesn't let him pretend to be in control any longer. She flips them over so she's on top, and when he looks at her questioningly, she answers, "I want to feel you, like this."
Then she starts moving, and by the time they reach the summit, Elena knows.
There is no room for anyone but Damon.