fic: we'll be good, we'll be so good (tvd; elijah, elena/elijah)
title: we'll be good, we'll be so good
characters: elijah; elena/elijah
rating: r
summary: he touches the placemat to keep his thoughts from wandering to other things the table could be used for.
author's notes: so in between my feelings binging over at the comment ficathon, i'm writing porn. written for the prompt on the vd_kink meme: he adjusts the setting at the table not because it's wrong, but because he needs something to distract him from enacting a very different scenario involving Elena and that table.
She is so very lovely across from him with her warm eyes and kind face, even as she watches him closely, searching for a reason to trust him again; he knows that she will, just as he knows very many things about her, but that she will because they have an understanding, an agreement, a knowledge of how they work with one another. He pays very little attention to the others in the room. They pose no threat to him and he cares very little for what they think. He cares only for the girl in front of him.
And that is why Elijah touches the placemat on the table before him, touches the worn material with careful fingers, seeking a distraction from his thoughts. While he waits for her to answer him, his mind settles on imagining other things he could be doing instead. The wood feels firm beneath his fingers, though he could snap it in an instant if needed. He wouldn't though. That would be counter to his desires, and he would much rather have her on the table, be touching her instead of the placemat.
To spread her out on the wood, stepping between her legs with one arm braced next to her head, while the other holds her thigh, that leg around his waist, as he thrusts into her. He imagines the way she would look, long hair catching in the nicks and grooves, her neck exposed as her head tips back in pleasure, pink lips parting in a sigh or moan, hips rising to meet his own movements. And he would lean down to inhale the scent of her. Blunt, human teeth would leave marks on that delectable neck, across her collarbone, down to take a nipple into his mouth to work at with tongue and teeth both.
Or maybe Elijah would kneel and drag her to the edge of the table, let her legs hang over while he put his mouth to her cunt and brought her off that way. Licking and sucking and spreading her folds to get at her deeper with his tongue. Add a finger or two when her breath hitched and her heels dug into his back as she got closer and closer to her orgasm. Nip at her clit, drink the taste of her down and lose himself in the smell of her there and the sounds he could draw forth from her throat.
The scene shifts and he has her bent over the table. An arm wrapped around her waist as he thrusts into her from this angle, driving deeper inside of her, the other hand wrapped in her thick hair, pulling her head back so he can bite at her throat.
He'd have her in all of those ways and other, Elijah thinks. And then she'd have her turn with him. No doubt the table would break under the strain of their activities, but the floor had its merits as well.
Elijah fingers the placemat one more time, letting the thought of warm, soft skin slide away. Business first. He can be patient.
characters: elijah; elena/elijah
rating: r
summary: he touches the placemat to keep his thoughts from wandering to other things the table could be used for.
author's notes: so in between my feelings binging over at the comment ficathon, i'm writing porn. written for the prompt on the vd_kink meme: he adjusts the setting at the table not because it's wrong, but because he needs something to distract him from enacting a very different scenario involving Elena and that table.
She is so very lovely across from him with her warm eyes and kind face, even as she watches him closely, searching for a reason to trust him again; he knows that she will, just as he knows very many things about her, but that she will because they have an understanding, an agreement, a knowledge of how they work with one another. He pays very little attention to the others in the room. They pose no threat to him and he cares very little for what they think. He cares only for the girl in front of him.
And that is why Elijah touches the placemat on the table before him, touches the worn material with careful fingers, seeking a distraction from his thoughts. While he waits for her to answer him, his mind settles on imagining other things he could be doing instead. The wood feels firm beneath his fingers, though he could snap it in an instant if needed. He wouldn't though. That would be counter to his desires, and he would much rather have her on the table, be touching her instead of the placemat.
To spread her out on the wood, stepping between her legs with one arm braced next to her head, while the other holds her thigh, that leg around his waist, as he thrusts into her. He imagines the way she would look, long hair catching in the nicks and grooves, her neck exposed as her head tips back in pleasure, pink lips parting in a sigh or moan, hips rising to meet his own movements. And he would lean down to inhale the scent of her. Blunt, human teeth would leave marks on that delectable neck, across her collarbone, down to take a nipple into his mouth to work at with tongue and teeth both.
Or maybe Elijah would kneel and drag her to the edge of the table, let her legs hang over while he put his mouth to her cunt and brought her off that way. Licking and sucking and spreading her folds to get at her deeper with his tongue. Add a finger or two when her breath hitched and her heels dug into his back as she got closer and closer to her orgasm. Nip at her clit, drink the taste of her down and lose himself in the smell of her there and the sounds he could draw forth from her throat.
The scene shifts and he has her bent over the table. An arm wrapped around her waist as he thrusts into her from this angle, driving deeper inside of her, the other hand wrapped in her thick hair, pulling her head back so he can bite at her throat.
He'd have her in all of those ways and other, Elijah thinks. And then she'd have her turn with him. No doubt the table would break under the strain of their activities, but the floor had its merits as well.
Elijah fingers the placemat one more time, letting the thought of warm, soft skin slide away. Business first. He can be patient.