fic: we shall always be (tvd; elena/elijah, r)
title: we shall always be
characters: elena/elijah
rating: r
summary: the lockwood's host their annual masquerade dance, and both of them deserve the night off.
author's note: set at some point in S4. Written for a birthday request asking for masquerade + oral sex.
The room tells the story to anyone who sees. The objects on the floor and around it fill in the blanks for the clueless. There's a shiny heel near the door, a strip of black that had earlier been a perfectly bound bow tie discarded over it. A ruined gold dress lays in a pool of silken fabric. Dress shoes neatly beside one another, a lone earring in its foot. Further pieces of clothing and costume trail along like a carefully crafted map.
The twined figures already know this story, and as such are too consumed with the other to pay heed to anything else.
He asks her to dance, extends his hand and waits till her lips curl and her hand reaches out for his. Her fingers, little against his own, are bare. Devoid of gloves that other women have donned as part of their costumes, the brush of her skin against his own is contact he takes pleasure in. Further pleasure in the fact that he wears no mask so his identity is no secret to her.
She smiles and follows his steps backwards towards the dancers. Her mask only covers the top half of her face. The edges curling into fine whiskers over her cheeks, thinly plated ears at her temple, and the snout on her nose give it away as a fox; he thinks for a moment that she would correctly be deemed a vixen, and though not her normal disposition that the dress she's chosen fits as well.
There's no proper place to put his hands with her dress either. The slope of her back is as bare as her hands, and the music requires a dance that is close in bodies and steps.
She deals with that. Reads the slight hesitation in his movement, the corners of her eyes crinkling beneath her mask, and steps forward. Her hands go to his shoulder and waist, her feet knocking against his own, and the whole effect places his hand in the curve of her bare back.
He thinks to tell her too how she's life incarnate here in his arms.
The music's changed, yet she's not stepped away and he won't if she won't.
She tilts her head up to his, eyeing him from the side. "I'm happy you decided to come."
He raises an eyebrow and feels his lips twitch in advance of his response. "And miss one of this town's lovely annual events?"
White teeth peek out from behind her lips, blunt straight teeth, and her laugh is audible only to his ears. "I think we deserve a break, don't you?"
In truth, he would not argue otherwise. Since arriving back to Mystic Falls there's been much to correct and fix, starting with his family and encompassing all other affairs as well, and she'd asked for his help and joined hers with his.
To see her smile, to feel the looseness of her shoulders, to trace the enjoyment in the lines of her face with his eyes, for all of that, he would endure the citizens of this town for one evening.
"Indeed."
She puts her mouth to his outside the Lockwood's mansion. The night air's heavily saturated with the perfume of the spring flowers that have bloomed under the warm snap. Her mask cuts against his face, but he presses closer, tilts her face to his with fingers spanning her jaw and chin.
There's blood in his mouth.
Her teeth no longer shine white. Red and hooked and her eyes are so wide.
"Elena," he sighs and pulls her to him again as she closes the distance at the same time.
He's thankful that his siblings are not in residence for the night.
It's an errant thought as her thighs bracket his head and he draws forth the most delicious noises with his tongue. Her cries and the way her fingers claw at the headboard would be enough to attract either Kol or Rebekah to his room.
She'd told him to bring her here, allowed him to lead and then pushed him through the door and to the bed once in. He'd gone willingly, more interested in watching the flesh she'd revealed as she'd rolled her shoulders from the straps of her dress. Completely bare finally, the both of them, she'd joined him on the bed, climbing his body till she'd gotten to where she'd wanted. To deny her would've been ridiculous. He hadn't wanted to anyway.
Now, he holds her hips tight and sucks her clit between his tongue and teeth, working her over. He bites and swallows the shriek she makes as her orgasm rolls through her.
She's a vice grip around his shoulders and waist, arms and legs holding him to her as he thrusts to meet her rising hips. They move easily, comfortably, in a rhythm that needs hardly any adjustment. He takes in the way she moves, the open pleasure on her face.
There's blood in her mouth this time as she sinks fangs past his skin.
"Elijah," she moans around the warm, wet skin of his shoulder.
He thinks again that she's never been more than here with him.
characters: elena/elijah
rating: r
summary: the lockwood's host their annual masquerade dance, and both of them deserve the night off.
author's note: set at some point in S4. Written for a birthday request asking for masquerade + oral sex.
The room tells the story to anyone who sees. The objects on the floor and around it fill in the blanks for the clueless. There's a shiny heel near the door, a strip of black that had earlier been a perfectly bound bow tie discarded over it. A ruined gold dress lays in a pool of silken fabric. Dress shoes neatly beside one another, a lone earring in its foot. Further pieces of clothing and costume trail along like a carefully crafted map.
The twined figures already know this story, and as such are too consumed with the other to pay heed to anything else.
He asks her to dance, extends his hand and waits till her lips curl and her hand reaches out for his. Her fingers, little against his own, are bare. Devoid of gloves that other women have donned as part of their costumes, the brush of her skin against his own is contact he takes pleasure in. Further pleasure in the fact that he wears no mask so his identity is no secret to her.
She smiles and follows his steps backwards towards the dancers. Her mask only covers the top half of her face. The edges curling into fine whiskers over her cheeks, thinly plated ears at her temple, and the snout on her nose give it away as a fox; he thinks for a moment that she would correctly be deemed a vixen, and though not her normal disposition that the dress she's chosen fits as well.
There's no proper place to put his hands with her dress either. The slope of her back is as bare as her hands, and the music requires a dance that is close in bodies and steps.
She deals with that. Reads the slight hesitation in his movement, the corners of her eyes crinkling beneath her mask, and steps forward. Her hands go to his shoulder and waist, her feet knocking against his own, and the whole effect places his hand in the curve of her bare back.
He thinks to tell her too how she's life incarnate here in his arms.
The music's changed, yet she's not stepped away and he won't if she won't.
She tilts her head up to his, eyeing him from the side. "I'm happy you decided to come."
He raises an eyebrow and feels his lips twitch in advance of his response. "And miss one of this town's lovely annual events?"
White teeth peek out from behind her lips, blunt straight teeth, and her laugh is audible only to his ears. "I think we deserve a break, don't you?"
In truth, he would not argue otherwise. Since arriving back to Mystic Falls there's been much to correct and fix, starting with his family and encompassing all other affairs as well, and she'd asked for his help and joined hers with his.
To see her smile, to feel the looseness of her shoulders, to trace the enjoyment in the lines of her face with his eyes, for all of that, he would endure the citizens of this town for one evening.
"Indeed."
She puts her mouth to his outside the Lockwood's mansion. The night air's heavily saturated with the perfume of the spring flowers that have bloomed under the warm snap. Her mask cuts against his face, but he presses closer, tilts her face to his with fingers spanning her jaw and chin.
There's blood in his mouth.
Her teeth no longer shine white. Red and hooked and her eyes are so wide.
"Elena," he sighs and pulls her to him again as she closes the distance at the same time.
He's thankful that his siblings are not in residence for the night.
It's an errant thought as her thighs bracket his head and he draws forth the most delicious noises with his tongue. Her cries and the way her fingers claw at the headboard would be enough to attract either Kol or Rebekah to his room.
She'd told him to bring her here, allowed him to lead and then pushed him through the door and to the bed once in. He'd gone willingly, more interested in watching the flesh she'd revealed as she'd rolled her shoulders from the straps of her dress. Completely bare finally, the both of them, she'd joined him on the bed, climbing his body till she'd gotten to where she'd wanted. To deny her would've been ridiculous. He hadn't wanted to anyway.
Now, he holds her hips tight and sucks her clit between his tongue and teeth, working her over. He bites and swallows the shriek she makes as her orgasm rolls through her.
She's a vice grip around his shoulders and waist, arms and legs holding him to her as he thrusts to meet her rising hips. They move easily, comfortably, in a rhythm that needs hardly any adjustment. He takes in the way she moves, the open pleasure on her face.
There's blood in her mouth this time as she sinks fangs past his skin.
"Elijah," she moans around the warm, wet skin of his shoulder.
He thinks again that she's never been more than here with him.