sit down and shut the door | damon/elena | nc-17 | guilt? i think? PLEASE WRITE ME LILY/BARNEY. Also omg, I should be studying.
She’s lying across his bed when he gets back.
He almost trips across her dress. Stops.
She leans up on her elbows.
“They’re looking for you,” he says, like he isn’t lightheaded with the blood-rush south, like he isn’t hard at the mere thought, just the possibility. “at the pageant, you know. It doesn’t feel complete without everyone’s favorite Drama Queen.”
She stares straight at him.
“Go ahead.”
He shuts the door.
“No,” he says, grasping her wrists in one hand. It’s purely symbolic he knows, she can break his hand with one twist of hers. He’d let her, “don’t touch. Not unless I say it’s okay.”
She stops moving, “Damon.” It’s too much. I can’t.
He waits.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
She’s not loud, he notes.
She had been with his brother, he remembers. Bourbon and the fire and stefanohgodstefanpleasejust.
He fills up the silence with his hands.
When he twists his fingers just so, she gasps.
It’s the first sound she’s made all night, etched across the back of his eyes till eternity.
Because he’s going to fucking live forever.
He does it again.
Fuck.
“This is not who I am,” she says,
“This isn’t who I want to be.” she says
Her words are slurred and her breathing harsh and he thinks
Good.
“Should I call you Katherine, then” he asks, because hey, he’s an ironical sort of guy.
“Please,” she says, quietly. And she looks so
lost. I can’t.
“Katherine,” he whispers, instead.
You’re so wet.
If she’s Katherine, he can.
Please.
Not yet.
He sinks down into her and drowns.
Katherine, he says, katherinekatherinekatherine.
“Don’t do this,” she says, and she’s not looking at him and why won’t she look at him.
“Don’t do what?”
“Make it about me,” she says, “this isn’t all about me.”
When has it fucking not been about you?
“Come on, Katherine,” he drawls, he’s too loud, and she’s not loud enough, “is there really something you want to not be about you.”
She pulls against his grip, not hard enough to break it, that’s important, not hard enough to break it, “I’m not-”
“Not who,” he says, because.
She turns her head away. Doesn’t answer.
I want to touch-
Not yet.
He watches the slow slide of the drop of sweat trickling down her breasts.
Don’t do that.
“Should we call time-out so you can make a list of the ‘don’t do that’s’. Do what?"
BECAUSE YOU'RE SO FUCKING GOOD AT IT. Ugh, feelings. You're a genius, and, honestly, I can't tell if this is still a story, or maybe a poem. Reads like a poem.
You won't do awfully <3333. I'm sure you won't. And you know that a short writing break when you're studying is good for the soul and can make you more effective. Think of it as mental health exercise ;).
YOU SHOULD POST YOUR OWN LIST. I mean, you already wrote a story for someone, so you might as well give people a chance to gift you porny goods ;).
(I'm writing you Damon/Caroline as we're speaking O_O.)
THIS IS ALWAYS WHAT HAPPENS. I come on LJ for two seconds, thinking I'll just glance and then go back to work, and suddenly out of nowhere I'm writing sexytiemz for 12-year-olds and staying on forever, talking. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? D:
Also, shush, you are much too kind, sir, I am not worthy <3
She’s lying across his bed when he gets back.
He almost trips across her dress. Stops.
She leans up on her elbows.
“They’re looking for you,” he says, like he isn’t lightheaded with the blood-rush south, like he isn’t hard at the mere thought, just the possibility. “at the pageant, you know. It doesn’t feel complete without everyone’s favorite Drama Queen.”
She stares straight at him.
“Go ahead.”
He shuts the door.
“No,” he says, grasping her wrists in one hand. It’s purely symbolic he knows, she can break his hand with one twist of hers. He’d let her, “don’t touch. Not unless I say it’s okay.”
She stops moving, “Damon.” It’s too much. I can’t.
He waits.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
She’s not loud, he notes.
She had been with his brother, he remembers. Bourbon and the fire and stefanohgodstefanpleasejust.
He fills up the silence with his hands.
When he twists his fingers just so, she gasps.
It’s the first sound she’s made all night, etched across the back of his eyes till eternity.
Because he’s going to fucking live forever.
He does it again.
Fuck.
“This is not who I am,” she says,
“This isn’t who I want to be.” she says
Her words are slurred and her breathing harsh and he thinks
Good.
“Should I call you Katherine, then” he asks, because hey, he’s an ironical sort of guy.
“Please,” she says, quietly. And she looks so
lost.
I can’t.
“Katherine,” he whispers, instead.
You’re so wet.
If she’s Katherine, he can.
Please.
Not yet.
He sinks down into her and drowns.
Katherine, he says, katherinekatherinekatherine.
“Don’t do this,” she says, and she’s not looking at him and why won’t she look at him.
“Don’t do what?”
“Make it about me,” she says, “this isn’t all about me.”
When has it fucking not been about you?
“Come on, Katherine,” he drawls, he’s too loud, and she’s not loud enough, “is there really something you want to not be about you.”
She pulls against his grip, not hard enough to break it, that’s important, not hard enough to break it, “I’m not-”
“Not who,” he says, because.
She turns her head away. Doesn’t answer.
I want to touch-
Not yet.
He watches the slow slide of the drop of sweat trickling down her breasts.
Don’t do that.
“Should we call time-out so you can make a list of the ‘don’t do that’s’. Do what?"
Don’t look at me like that.
“Like what?”
Like you’re in love with me.
He laughs. Almost.
She breaks his grip.
“I didn’t say-”
“You’re shaking.”
Say okay, she whispers.
Okay.
She moves her hand down between them.
He hisses between his teeth, “Kathe-”
She swallows the word.
“Elena,” she whispers against his lips, “Elena.”
Damon.
Elena.
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Kindly go fuck yourself.
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WHY.
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You won't do awfully <3333. I'm sure you won't. And you know that a short writing break when you're studying is good for the soul and can make you more effective. Think of it as mental health exercise ;).
YOU SHOULD POST YOUR OWN LIST. I mean, you already wrote a story for someone, so you might as well give people a chance to gift you porny goods ;).
(I'm writing you Damon/Caroline as we're speaking O_O.)
Reply
He fills up the silence with his hands.
What. are. you. doing.
My pain. My pain. Everything hurts.
I love you so hard.
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Also, shush, you are much too kind, sir, I am not worthy <3
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And I agree with Marta, do the list!!!
Oh and all the best for your exams <3 YOU CAN DO IT!
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But I'm totally willing to be written for, because I'm nice like that, haha
And thank you so much bro, in dire need for ALL THE LUCK. D:
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I would write you all the things, if I wrote things that is. <3
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your words and paragraphing and italics and EVERYTHING. WHY?
AND THE END, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.
also this
She breaks his grip.
“I didn’t say-”
“You’re shaking.”
and her don'ts and damon looking at her like he's in love with her.
NEVER LEAVE ME.
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