fic, the vampire diaries: sometimes you can't make it on your own (Alaric/Damon/Elena), NC17
Title: sometimes you can't make it on your own
Pairing: Alaric/Damon/Elena (sorta)
Rating: NC17
Words: 2474
Spoilers: up until 1x22. The S2 premiere totally ruled this out, but take it as an AU coda to the S1 finale.
Warnings: er, threesome where just two people strictly have sex and one of them is seventeen.
Summary: “We just agreed that even you wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment,” Elena says, still looking at him, “and he proposed that I gave him a small hand.” She winks at him then, and Damon wishes he could really process all of this.
A/N: originally written for mollivanders at the five acts exchange; the prompts were on the run, confessions and dangerous situations. Idek what I was thinking but the threesome was on the pairing list and I couldn't resist. Also this was written before the premiere and then the show went in the completely opposite direction so just ignore S2. ;) Title stolen from U2.
If you told Damon that one day he’d be running from Katherine and not towards her, he’d have probably snapped your neck without even bothering to drink you dry first.
It’s strange, that you search something for so long and then you find out that you don’t want it anymore.
And then maybe you find it somewhere else even if it’s exactly where you shouldn’t.
They’re in two groups and they have two cars, and they’re momentarily not together because they lost themselves while running out of Mystic Falls, where he thinks eighty per cent of the population must be dead.
He thought he’d do it himself, and that he’d feel good after.
Katherine did it instead, and whenever he thinks about that kiss he wants to throw up.
Not that at times he doesn’t want to, now, but it’s him, Elena, Alaric and Bonnie in one car, they’re lost somewhere between Mystic Falls and Richmond and for some really stupid chance, none of them had a cellphone when they had to flee.
If you told him that he’d sincerely miss his brother one day, he’d have probably done you the courtesy to drain you before snapping your neck, but now Stefan is he-doesn’t-know-where along with Jeremy, Caroline and Matt, he thinks, maybe someone else too since they stole the bigger car of the two they found. And Damon misses him. Ridiculous. Except that he is.
They drove for six hours until it’s three AM, they ended up on a backroad somewhere that no one in their group recognized, and the only thing breaking the monotony of the road was a small, abandoned shack.
There’s where they are now, and if you told Damon that one day he’d have felt guilty for something… well, he’d have found a very creative way to make you suffer as you died slowly.
There are a lot of things they could do right now.
Come up with some plan, crash against the wall as Bonnie did three seconds after she went inside.
Instead, he’s sitting in between Alaric and Elena and for the first time in his life he doesn’t have a fucking idea of what to say.
If you told him that one day he’d have been at a loss and unable to think of an alternative course of action, he’d have found a way to kill you slowly, creatively and painfully.
He’s clenching his fist so hard that if he was alive it’d bleed.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, disgusted at the defeat in his voice, and he wonders where did he go. He didn’t use to be like this. “I should have understood it the second she kissed me.”
Life sucks either way, he had told Jeremy, and he thinks he never said anything truer in his life.
Considering that now he dreads the idea of Katherine finding them when he was ready to sacrifice an entire town just to get her back… his fingers clench harder.
Elena lets out a small chuckle, almost strained.
“Hey,” he starts, trying to sound sure and failing at it, “you would have never done that.”
“No,” she agrees, “I wouldn’t have.” And her voice is choked, too, and he wants to do something, anything, but he can’t.
“Well, I thought I’d have never hear you say that you didn’t know something. Color me surprised,” comes from Damon’s left, and he turns enough that he can meet Alaric’s eyes.
“At least someone is gaining something out of this,” he tries to say, and then he shuts up because Alaric’s hand just closed around his wrist and there are fingers trying to unclench it.
Damon is so out of it that he lets it happen, and he can’t help looking at Alaric in disbelief.
“What?” Alaric hisses, his voice low, trying not to wake Bonnie, probably. “I thought it was kind of obvious that I didn’t hate you that much by this point,” he says then, his voice a notch softer, and Damon can’t believe that Alaric is feeling sorry for him. He doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, least of all…
“Now,” Elena says then, startling him, “I think you have a lot to blame yourself for, but do you really have to start when it’s the only time it isn’t?”
Then her hand, with her soft, thin fingers, reaches his wrists and then moves down and closes around his, and this shouldn’t be happening.
And even if it is, he shouldn’t care. After all isn’t this what he has wanted since he laid eyes on her? Or maybe since he realized that she looked like Katherine but was nothing like her? (At least she had always been straightforward, and until now she hasn’t let him rot for a century and more waiting for an occasion to meet her again just to find out she never cared. At least she does care, and even if it isn’t the way he’d like, it’s still enough.)
Now he feels like an ass because she’s his brother’s girlfriend and they’re holding hands in an abandoned barn while Katherine is having dessert directly from the throats of the city they just flew from.
He feels like he can’t just do this just when he decided that maybe whatever humanity he can still spare was worth half a chance mostly because of her, and six months ago such a thought would have never passed his mind.
Then there are fingers wrapping around his other hand, too, and they’re rougher and not as slender and the palm is more of a match for his rather than threatening to disappear inside his hand.
The fuck?, he thinks, because Elena he might get, but this can’t possibly be happening, and then he realizes that both Elena and Alaric are looking at each other like they’re agreeing on something and all without him even getting it.
This isn’t him.
Or maybe it used to be. When he still didn’t need rings to take a walk during the day. Fuck, he’s feeling so confused that he can’t even find it in himself to ask them what the fuck are they even doing, and then Elena’s arm is around his waist and Alaric has pressed closer and his face is inches from Damon’s.
“What… what is this?” he hisses, managing to sound pissed enough, but that dies when Alaric moves so that they’re completely in front of each other, and fuckthey’restillholdinghands and Damon hasn’t even tried to do anything about it. He turns enough that he can look at Elena, because he needs an explanation and he can’t do this with her.
He just can’t, and he wishes he could.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what the hell?”
She looks baffled for a second, then laughs softly and it’s the first time today when she hasn’t seemed completely miserable.
And she looks nothing like Katherine right now, and it aches for all the wrong reasons, but then her hands are still gripping his hips, soft but firm.
“You’re right,” she says, “I would have never kissed you.”
Even if I’d have liked to try, he hears unsaid, and he wished he could find it in himself to hate Stefan again.
“But it doesn’t mean I can’t give you a hand if you need one, right? Friends do, you know.”
“I don’t need any fucking…”
“Oh, of everyone, I wouldn’t have ever expected you to make a fuss about this,” Alaric says, and he sounds half annoyed and half amused and maybe something else, too, and before Damon knows he isn’t looking at Elena anymore but Alaric is kissing him and Damon can’t help jerking back. Even if he can’t move, since Elena is still keeping him where he is.
“Well, of everyone, I wouldn’t have ever expected you to kiss me.”
“You looked like you needed it. You still look like it.”
Damon is glad he can’t see his face right this moment.
“Are you even serious? Weren’t you the one who could barely stand me?”
“Sure,” Alaric says keeping still his voice low, “and since I can barely stand you, I’ve have gone killing vampires with you, I’ve helped you with that stupid device, I have answered all your fucking calls, and I have just punched you while you invited yourself for a drink. With many thanks for trying to kill me back then. And would I have even bothered to tell you that you were salvageable, more or less, if I could barely stand you? I’m still inclined on the less, but if you really thought that then you’re a lot more stupid than I gave you credit for.”
He feels so disoriented that he doesn’t even try to say no when Alaric kisses him again.
It’s nothing like Katherine, he fleetingly thinks. This doesn’t feel as off as it did back on Elena’s porch. It’s slow, not hurried, and when Alaric coaxes his lips open Damon relents and well, fuck, for being an high school teacher Alaric knows how to kiss someone. And Damon isn’t the first newcomer in the field, and so when Alaric’s tongue meets his he moans and kisses back, cursing that he can’t feel blood rushing under his skin anymore.
He gave Katherine that as he gave everything else, and see where it brought him.
Though well, this current situation isn’t so bad, and then he remembers that Elena is still behind him and a hand is rubbing a circle on his hip. He can feel her warm, soft frame against his still cool back, and this is just crazy, but until the kiss ends he just doesn’t move.
“What’s… what are you two even…” he manages after, remembering that after all they had been in the back all the time while he drove and Bonnie gave directions.
Elena looks amused, again, and if anything he’s glad he made her laugh.
“We just agreed that even you wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment,” Elena says, still looking at him, “and he proposed that I gave him a small hand.” She winks at him then, and Damon wishes he could really process all of this. And then she moves forward and kneels instead of just sitting on the ground; she kisses him on the cheek, and that’s what he had done on her porch when he thought that Katherine was her. Fuck, why can’t he stop thinking about Katherine?
Maybe because she’s the reason they’re all here.
Quite literally.
He thinks he wants to just let them do whatever they want and check out, but then he’s being dragged forward and there’s one hand inside his jeans, and he can’t believe that a guy who wanted to kill him because Damon turned his wife is about to jack him off.
From what it seems.
He gasps when Elena’s hands come up to unfasten his shirt, and then Alaric is impossibly closer and his voice impossibly low.
“Let me tell you just one thing. You’ll never stop being a son of a bitch, I fear, but I need to give it to you. That thing sucking everyone dry back home? I think you should give yourself more credit, if you think you’re anywhere like her.”
He can’t believe that he’s hard as Alaric’s hand wraps around his cock and damn, he’s using the hand with the ring.
And Damon hasn’t thought about trying to just bite the idiot once and make him stop this. It feels too nice. Even if it can’t lead to any good.
But then Elena’s right hand is palming his stomach and her other hand is around his neck and she’s rubbing small, neat circles with her fingertips on his skin, which is considerably warmer than its usual. Alaric is still jerking him off, a pace that isn’t slow or too fast but that is making him lose any will to even try to say no. He gives efficient strokes, but they aren’t quick, and the way his hand moves and the way his thumb rubs behind the head once in a while is making Damon glad he doesn’t really need to breathe.
He’s sure he’s flushing, but then he isn’t exactly flushing anymore and rather, he’s starting to shake. Alaric’s arm grabs his free side and Elena’s hand tangles in his hair; his head doesn’t want to let the sensation get to him, but every other part of him decides the contrary and he bites his lip, hard, trying not to shout fuck as he comes against Alaric’s hand, his hips thrusting forward with a desperation he thought couldn’t get to him again and his eyes half-closed, everything he sees fuzzy and shaky.
He closes his eyes then, and there’s something dancing beneath his eyelids that disappears as soon as darkness surrounds him, and when he realizes that the both of them are holding him up he decides that he’s past worrying. Tomorrow he will, and he will crack some stupid joke, and they will find Stefan, and he and Elena will kiss in slow motion like the perfect romantic couple they’re meant to be, and Damon will be left with the reminder of how her hands once kept him upright during this. Somehow it doesn’t feel that bad of an exchange; he isn’t even that sorry that they never kissed.
But he was right. She wouldn’t have, and she shouldn’t have, and he sees that clearly enough.
“You know,” he croaks at Alaric, still without opening his eyes, “every time I think you can’t surprise me anymore you fucking do. Now that you even like me, what’s coming next?”
“I never said out loud that I like you, just so that we’re clear on that.”
“Whatever,” Damon manages, if only because he really needs to have the last word to restore his pride. Or his face. Or his image. Except that he doesn’t know how much he cares about either just now.
Well, it could be worse. Tomorrow he’ll just make up for today’s slip by planning the sweetest possible revenge, and tonight he won’t say anything as Elena stands up, going towards Bonnie, and her hand cards once through his hair as she does. He also won’t say anything as he ends up with his side glued to Alaric’s even if he hadn’t exactly planned it, but it’s warm and if you’re undead you sort of really want that. Not to mention that Alaric doesn’t protest at all and it feels way nicer than Damon will admit in the morning.
There are a lot of things he won’t admit in the morning, but his life is made of things he does in the night that he won’t admit when the sun comes up. And he’s strangely alright with it, for once.
End.
Pairing: Alaric/Damon/Elena (sorta)
Rating: NC17
Words: 2474
Spoilers: up until 1x22. The S2 premiere totally ruled this out, but take it as an AU coda to the S1 finale.
Warnings: er, threesome where just two people strictly have sex and one of them is seventeen.
Summary: “We just agreed that even you wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment,” Elena says, still looking at him, “and he proposed that I gave him a small hand.” She winks at him then, and Damon wishes he could really process all of this.
A/N: originally written for mollivanders at the five acts exchange; the prompts were on the run, confessions and dangerous situations. Idek what I was thinking but the threesome was on the pairing list and I couldn't resist. Also this was written before the premiere and then the show went in the completely opposite direction so just ignore S2. ;) Title stolen from U2.
If you told Damon that one day he’d be running from Katherine and not towards her, he’d have probably snapped your neck without even bothering to drink you dry first.
It’s strange, that you search something for so long and then you find out that you don’t want it anymore.
And then maybe you find it somewhere else even if it’s exactly where you shouldn’t.
They’re in two groups and they have two cars, and they’re momentarily not together because they lost themselves while running out of Mystic Falls, where he thinks eighty per cent of the population must be dead.
He thought he’d do it himself, and that he’d feel good after.
Katherine did it instead, and whenever he thinks about that kiss he wants to throw up.
Not that at times he doesn’t want to, now, but it’s him, Elena, Alaric and Bonnie in one car, they’re lost somewhere between Mystic Falls and Richmond and for some really stupid chance, none of them had a cellphone when they had to flee.
If you told him that he’d sincerely miss his brother one day, he’d have probably done you the courtesy to drain you before snapping your neck, but now Stefan is he-doesn’t-know-where along with Jeremy, Caroline and Matt, he thinks, maybe someone else too since they stole the bigger car of the two they found. And Damon misses him. Ridiculous. Except that he is.
They drove for six hours until it’s three AM, they ended up on a backroad somewhere that no one in their group recognized, and the only thing breaking the monotony of the road was a small, abandoned shack.
There’s where they are now, and if you told Damon that one day he’d have felt guilty for something… well, he’d have found a very creative way to make you suffer as you died slowly.
There are a lot of things they could do right now.
Come up with some plan, crash against the wall as Bonnie did three seconds after she went inside.
Instead, he’s sitting in between Alaric and Elena and for the first time in his life he doesn’t have a fucking idea of what to say.
If you told him that one day he’d have been at a loss and unable to think of an alternative course of action, he’d have found a way to kill you slowly, creatively and painfully.
He’s clenching his fist so hard that if he was alive it’d bleed.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, disgusted at the defeat in his voice, and he wonders where did he go. He didn’t use to be like this. “I should have understood it the second she kissed me.”
Life sucks either way, he had told Jeremy, and he thinks he never said anything truer in his life.
Considering that now he dreads the idea of Katherine finding them when he was ready to sacrifice an entire town just to get her back… his fingers clench harder.
Elena lets out a small chuckle, almost strained.
“Hey,” he starts, trying to sound sure and failing at it, “you would have never done that.”
“No,” she agrees, “I wouldn’t have.” And her voice is choked, too, and he wants to do something, anything, but he can’t.
“Well, I thought I’d have never hear you say that you didn’t know something. Color me surprised,” comes from Damon’s left, and he turns enough that he can meet Alaric’s eyes.
“At least someone is gaining something out of this,” he tries to say, and then he shuts up because Alaric’s hand just closed around his wrist and there are fingers trying to unclench it.
Damon is so out of it that he lets it happen, and he can’t help looking at Alaric in disbelief.
“What?” Alaric hisses, his voice low, trying not to wake Bonnie, probably. “I thought it was kind of obvious that I didn’t hate you that much by this point,” he says then, his voice a notch softer, and Damon can’t believe that Alaric is feeling sorry for him. He doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, least of all…
“Now,” Elena says then, startling him, “I think you have a lot to blame yourself for, but do you really have to start when it’s the only time it isn’t?”
Then her hand, with her soft, thin fingers, reaches his wrists and then moves down and closes around his, and this shouldn’t be happening.
And even if it is, he shouldn’t care. After all isn’t this what he has wanted since he laid eyes on her? Or maybe since he realized that she looked like Katherine but was nothing like her? (At least she had always been straightforward, and until now she hasn’t let him rot for a century and more waiting for an occasion to meet her again just to find out she never cared. At least she does care, and even if it isn’t the way he’d like, it’s still enough.)
Now he feels like an ass because she’s his brother’s girlfriend and they’re holding hands in an abandoned barn while Katherine is having dessert directly from the throats of the city they just flew from.
He feels like he can’t just do this just when he decided that maybe whatever humanity he can still spare was worth half a chance mostly because of her, and six months ago such a thought would have never passed his mind.
Then there are fingers wrapping around his other hand, too, and they’re rougher and not as slender and the palm is more of a match for his rather than threatening to disappear inside his hand.
The fuck?, he thinks, because Elena he might get, but this can’t possibly be happening, and then he realizes that both Elena and Alaric are looking at each other like they’re agreeing on something and all without him even getting it.
This isn’t him.
Or maybe it used to be. When he still didn’t need rings to take a walk during the day. Fuck, he’s feeling so confused that he can’t even find it in himself to ask them what the fuck are they even doing, and then Elena’s arm is around his waist and Alaric has pressed closer and his face is inches from Damon’s.
“What… what is this?” he hisses, managing to sound pissed enough, but that dies when Alaric moves so that they’re completely in front of each other, and fuckthey’restillholdinghands and Damon hasn’t even tried to do anything about it. He turns enough that he can look at Elena, because he needs an explanation and he can’t do this with her.
He just can’t, and he wishes he could.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what the hell?”
She looks baffled for a second, then laughs softly and it’s the first time today when she hasn’t seemed completely miserable.
And she looks nothing like Katherine right now, and it aches for all the wrong reasons, but then her hands are still gripping his hips, soft but firm.
“You’re right,” she says, “I would have never kissed you.”
Even if I’d have liked to try, he hears unsaid, and he wished he could find it in himself to hate Stefan again.
“But it doesn’t mean I can’t give you a hand if you need one, right? Friends do, you know.”
“I don’t need any fucking…”
“Oh, of everyone, I wouldn’t have ever expected you to make a fuss about this,” Alaric says, and he sounds half annoyed and half amused and maybe something else, too, and before Damon knows he isn’t looking at Elena anymore but Alaric is kissing him and Damon can’t help jerking back. Even if he can’t move, since Elena is still keeping him where he is.
“Well, of everyone, I wouldn’t have ever expected you to kiss me.”
“You looked like you needed it. You still look like it.”
Damon is glad he can’t see his face right this moment.
“Are you even serious? Weren’t you the one who could barely stand me?”
“Sure,” Alaric says keeping still his voice low, “and since I can barely stand you, I’ve have gone killing vampires with you, I’ve helped you with that stupid device, I have answered all your fucking calls, and I have just punched you while you invited yourself for a drink. With many thanks for trying to kill me back then. And would I have even bothered to tell you that you were salvageable, more or less, if I could barely stand you? I’m still inclined on the less, but if you really thought that then you’re a lot more stupid than I gave you credit for.”
He feels so disoriented that he doesn’t even try to say no when Alaric kisses him again.
It’s nothing like Katherine, he fleetingly thinks. This doesn’t feel as off as it did back on Elena’s porch. It’s slow, not hurried, and when Alaric coaxes his lips open Damon relents and well, fuck, for being an high school teacher Alaric knows how to kiss someone. And Damon isn’t the first newcomer in the field, and so when Alaric’s tongue meets his he moans and kisses back, cursing that he can’t feel blood rushing under his skin anymore.
He gave Katherine that as he gave everything else, and see where it brought him.
Though well, this current situation isn’t so bad, and then he remembers that Elena is still behind him and a hand is rubbing a circle on his hip. He can feel her warm, soft frame against his still cool back, and this is just crazy, but until the kiss ends he just doesn’t move.
“What’s… what are you two even…” he manages after, remembering that after all they had been in the back all the time while he drove and Bonnie gave directions.
Elena looks amused, again, and if anything he’s glad he made her laugh.
“We just agreed that even you wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment,” Elena says, still looking at him, “and he proposed that I gave him a small hand.” She winks at him then, and Damon wishes he could really process all of this. And then she moves forward and kneels instead of just sitting on the ground; she kisses him on the cheek, and that’s what he had done on her porch when he thought that Katherine was her. Fuck, why can’t he stop thinking about Katherine?
Maybe because she’s the reason they’re all here.
Quite literally.
He thinks he wants to just let them do whatever they want and check out, but then he’s being dragged forward and there’s one hand inside his jeans, and he can’t believe that a guy who wanted to kill him because Damon turned his wife is about to jack him off.
From what it seems.
He gasps when Elena’s hands come up to unfasten his shirt, and then Alaric is impossibly closer and his voice impossibly low.
“Let me tell you just one thing. You’ll never stop being a son of a bitch, I fear, but I need to give it to you. That thing sucking everyone dry back home? I think you should give yourself more credit, if you think you’re anywhere like her.”
He can’t believe that he’s hard as Alaric’s hand wraps around his cock and damn, he’s using the hand with the ring.
And Damon hasn’t thought about trying to just bite the idiot once and make him stop this. It feels too nice. Even if it can’t lead to any good.
But then Elena’s right hand is palming his stomach and her other hand is around his neck and she’s rubbing small, neat circles with her fingertips on his skin, which is considerably warmer than its usual. Alaric is still jerking him off, a pace that isn’t slow or too fast but that is making him lose any will to even try to say no. He gives efficient strokes, but they aren’t quick, and the way his hand moves and the way his thumb rubs behind the head once in a while is making Damon glad he doesn’t really need to breathe.
He’s sure he’s flushing, but then he isn’t exactly flushing anymore and rather, he’s starting to shake. Alaric’s arm grabs his free side and Elena’s hand tangles in his hair; his head doesn’t want to let the sensation get to him, but every other part of him decides the contrary and he bites his lip, hard, trying not to shout fuck as he comes against Alaric’s hand, his hips thrusting forward with a desperation he thought couldn’t get to him again and his eyes half-closed, everything he sees fuzzy and shaky.
He closes his eyes then, and there’s something dancing beneath his eyelids that disappears as soon as darkness surrounds him, and when he realizes that the both of them are holding him up he decides that he’s past worrying. Tomorrow he will, and he will crack some stupid joke, and they will find Stefan, and he and Elena will kiss in slow motion like the perfect romantic couple they’re meant to be, and Damon will be left with the reminder of how her hands once kept him upright during this. Somehow it doesn’t feel that bad of an exchange; he isn’t even that sorry that they never kissed.
But he was right. She wouldn’t have, and she shouldn’t have, and he sees that clearly enough.
“You know,” he croaks at Alaric, still without opening his eyes, “every time I think you can’t surprise me anymore you fucking do. Now that you even like me, what’s coming next?”
“I never said out loud that I like you, just so that we’re clear on that.”
“Whatever,” Damon manages, if only because he really needs to have the last word to restore his pride. Or his face. Or his image. Except that he doesn’t know how much he cares about either just now.
Well, it could be worse. Tomorrow he’ll just make up for today’s slip by planning the sweetest possible revenge, and tonight he won’t say anything as Elena stands up, going towards Bonnie, and her hand cards once through his hair as she does. He also won’t say anything as he ends up with his side glued to Alaric’s even if he hadn’t exactly planned it, but it’s warm and if you’re undead you sort of really want that. Not to mention that Alaric doesn’t protest at all and it feels way nicer than Damon will admit in the morning.
There are a lot of things he won’t admit in the morning, but his life is made of things he does in the night that he won’t admit when the sun comes up. And he’s strangely alright with it, for once.
End.