Ficlet: Always and Never. R. The Vampire Diaries.
Title: Always and Never
Author: Vesta
Pairing: Damon/Stefan
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst
Feedback: Yes, please. If you would be so kind.
Summary: "It was always Stefan". The words still hurt him, deep inside. Even worse since they were so true. Always Stefan.
Note: First TVD-fic ever. This takes place after 204, I believe that counts as spoilery. This is for now unbetad. Mind your eyes and beware of grammatical horrors.
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No. That was it. One word, two letters. No. He was not going there again. Ever. Damon clenched his hands, felt his nails dig into the tender skin of his palms. No. The pain didn't help.
There was no way in hell he went in there again, through the third door on the left, to beg. That he had done enough already. And to what use? Seeing Stefan run after Elena like a lovesick puppy. Mindless and drooling. Just as it had been with Catherine. There were limits to everything. Not even the sense memory of Stefan's marble white skin under his hands could make Damon do that again. Ever. Enough was enough.
There had been good times, when they had not snarled at each other. Not broken bones, not bitten. A long time ago, between Catherine and now, when they had had only each other to lean on, only each other to trust. The comfort had come so easily. The word 'brother' had gotten a new meaning.
He had begged, sometimes. And he had received. Soft kisses and sharp bites, the bittersweet burn of Stefan inside him. Oh, they knew it was wrong, all they way from the first fumbling touch until the last venomous shout. And he still wanted it, wanted with a desperate need that disintegrated everything else. No wonder he was such an coldhearted bastard. Damon had to laugh at himself, at Stefan. This was what it had come to.
"It was always Stefan". Doppelgangers indeed. Elena and Catherine; looking the same, thinking the same, doing the same. And Stefan, he didn't notice, or chose to not notice. Damon didn't know, and frankly, he did not care. There was this one fact he cared about, no more begging. No more asking.
When he stopped just outside the door, he could hear Stefan moving around in there. Of course, Damon had heard him since he set foot in the house but there was something about this; standing just outside and listen. Damon wondered briefly what Stefan was doing, making ready for another googly eyed session with Elena perhaps. Maybe another failed attempt to stop Catherine from what she was planning. He couldn't for the life of him understand how Stefan could think that his little mock-break up with Elena would come through as real. Bad actor, had always been, would always be.
"It was always Stefan". The words still hurt him, deep inside. Hurting even worse since they were so true. Always Stefan. Once he had looked at Damon like that, all dark eyed and fierce. It stung to not have those looks on him anymore. But tonight that would change. He would have Stefan back, where he belonged. Under Damon, on top of him, beside. Entwined.
Tonight he would take, not beg, not ask. The door opened easily. It hadn't mattered even if it had been locked. Stefan didn't react, didn't turn. He was by the window and if the situation hadn't been what it was, he would have looked like a right romantic hero. The moonlight chased some of the shadows away from his face, enhanced others. Caressed his bare chest, made the skin shine softly. He was mouth watering. Damon could feel that uncomfortable clench in his chest again, the one he had felt for an eternity by now. He had tried to discard it as anger, there was no word for longing in Damon's vocabulary anymore. As always he failed.
Stefan didn't move when Damon stepped up behind him, not when arms wrapped around his waist. He shuddered a little when Damon licked up his neck, let his teeth scrape gently against the skin. Had there been a pulse to feel, it would have fluttered like a butterfly. Damon knew the signs of his brother's body. The tensing of his back, the little tilt of his head. He knew them and they had always meant 'want'. He had felt them under his hands so many times before, it was like reading an open book.
At least he had thought he could read Stefan like an open book. They had moved together, like before. There had been no begging, no asking. Just the feeling of his brother under his hands, under his body, moving and writhing with him. It had been exquisite. It wasn't until after, when he lay half atop Stefan's back, trying to make the world stop spinning, he realised that they hadn't kissed. He had tried catching Stefan's mouth but been met with a quick twist of Stefan's head instead. And after that there had been no time for thought. But now it was.
Stefan twisted under him, turning on his back. That was when Damon realised that Stefan had barely looked at him since they began, and he didn't now either. With his head turned he asked, "Are you done now?"
The soft click of the door closing echoed through the room. Stefan hadn't waited for an answer, just got up, dressed and then he was gone. Damon lay there, the smell of them still fresh on him, on the sheets.
Always Stefan. Always. Damon had tried, really tried, this time. To get through to his brother, to express how he felt. And look where that had gotten him. No. One word, two letters. No. Enough was enough. He was just going to get up and go after Stefan, not because he needed to be around him, to be close. Only because his idiot brother needed looking after, most definitely not because Damon needed him. Not at all.
Fini.
Author: Vesta
Pairing: Damon/Stefan
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst
Feedback: Yes, please. If you would be so kind.
Summary: "It was always Stefan". The words still hurt him, deep inside. Even worse since they were so true. Always Stefan.
Note: First TVD-fic ever. This takes place after 204, I believe that counts as spoilery. This is for now unbetad. Mind your eyes and beware of grammatical horrors.
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
No. That was it. One word, two letters. No. He was not going there again. Ever. Damon clenched his hands, felt his nails dig into the tender skin of his palms. No. The pain didn't help.
There was no way in hell he went in there again, through the third door on the left, to beg. That he had done enough already. And to what use? Seeing Stefan run after Elena like a lovesick puppy. Mindless and drooling. Just as it had been with Catherine. There were limits to everything. Not even the sense memory of Stefan's marble white skin under his hands could make Damon do that again. Ever. Enough was enough.
There had been good times, when they had not snarled at each other. Not broken bones, not bitten. A long time ago, between Catherine and now, when they had had only each other to lean on, only each other to trust. The comfort had come so easily. The word 'brother' had gotten a new meaning.
He had begged, sometimes. And he had received. Soft kisses and sharp bites, the bittersweet burn of Stefan inside him. Oh, they knew it was wrong, all they way from the first fumbling touch until the last venomous shout. And he still wanted it, wanted with a desperate need that disintegrated everything else. No wonder he was such an coldhearted bastard. Damon had to laugh at himself, at Stefan. This was what it had come to.
"It was always Stefan". Doppelgangers indeed. Elena and Catherine; looking the same, thinking the same, doing the same. And Stefan, he didn't notice, or chose to not notice. Damon didn't know, and frankly, he did not care. There was this one fact he cared about, no more begging. No more asking.
When he stopped just outside the door, he could hear Stefan moving around in there. Of course, Damon had heard him since he set foot in the house but there was something about this; standing just outside and listen. Damon wondered briefly what Stefan was doing, making ready for another googly eyed session with Elena perhaps. Maybe another failed attempt to stop Catherine from what she was planning. He couldn't for the life of him understand how Stefan could think that his little mock-break up with Elena would come through as real. Bad actor, had always been, would always be.
"It was always Stefan". The words still hurt him, deep inside. Hurting even worse since they were so true. Always Stefan. Once he had looked at Damon like that, all dark eyed and fierce. It stung to not have those looks on him anymore. But tonight that would change. He would have Stefan back, where he belonged. Under Damon, on top of him, beside. Entwined.
Tonight he would take, not beg, not ask. The door opened easily. It hadn't mattered even if it had been locked. Stefan didn't react, didn't turn. He was by the window and if the situation hadn't been what it was, he would have looked like a right romantic hero. The moonlight chased some of the shadows away from his face, enhanced others. Caressed his bare chest, made the skin shine softly. He was mouth watering. Damon could feel that uncomfortable clench in his chest again, the one he had felt for an eternity by now. He had tried to discard it as anger, there was no word for longing in Damon's vocabulary anymore. As always he failed.
Stefan didn't move when Damon stepped up behind him, not when arms wrapped around his waist. He shuddered a little when Damon licked up his neck, let his teeth scrape gently against the skin. Had there been a pulse to feel, it would have fluttered like a butterfly. Damon knew the signs of his brother's body. The tensing of his back, the little tilt of his head. He knew them and they had always meant 'want'. He had felt them under his hands so many times before, it was like reading an open book.
At least he had thought he could read Stefan like an open book. They had moved together, like before. There had been no begging, no asking. Just the feeling of his brother under his hands, under his body, moving and writhing with him. It had been exquisite. It wasn't until after, when he lay half atop Stefan's back, trying to make the world stop spinning, he realised that they hadn't kissed. He had tried catching Stefan's mouth but been met with a quick twist of Stefan's head instead. And after that there had been no time for thought. But now it was.
Stefan twisted under him, turning on his back. That was when Damon realised that Stefan had barely looked at him since they began, and he didn't now either. With his head turned he asked, "Are you done now?"
The soft click of the door closing echoed through the room. Stefan hadn't waited for an answer, just got up, dressed and then he was gone. Damon lay there, the smell of them still fresh on him, on the sheets.
Always Stefan. Always. Damon had tried, really tried, this time. To get through to his brother, to express how he felt. And look where that had gotten him. No. One word, two letters. No. Enough was enough. He was just going to get up and go after Stefan, not because he needed to be around him, to be close. Only because his idiot brother needed looking after, most definitely not because Damon needed him. Not at all.
Fini.