Fic: Stale Sweat and Cinnamon (or Why Damon and Elena Owe Alaric a New Workout Bench)
Title: Stale Sweat and Cinnamon (or Why Damon and Elena Owe Alaric a New Workout Bench)
Author: lit_chick08
Pairings: Damon/Elena, mentions Elena/Stefan, Elena/Matt
Rating: NC-17; this is pretty much straight-up porn with a teensy bit of plot
Spoilers: goes AU during 3x06 “Smells Like Teen Spirit”
Word Count: 2307
Warning: Smut, voyeurism/exhibition, orgasm denial
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: Damon can be hard-headed sometimes; Elena gives him a gentle...nudge
Prompt: written for the tvd_anon kink meme for the prompt: Damon and Elena have a sweaty post-workout f*** after Damon shows Elena a vampire's “sweet spot.” Oral please!
The moment he pulls her body against his, the tips of his fingers pressing against the soft skin beneath her ribs, Elena knows she is going to fuck Damon Salvatore. She can pay all the lip service she wants to saving Stefan and everlasting love, but Elena can feel the press of Damon's hardening cock against the small of her back, can feel his breath against her sensitive neck, and Elena wants.
It's okay to love them both. That's what Katherine said months earlier, vocalizing the thing Elena used to desperately hope to avoid.
But now Damon was here and her body was screaming at the idea of pulling away, of locking herself away. It isn't as if she hasn't thought of it before, like she hasn't come a dozen times with a hand between her thighs thinking of what it could (would) be like, hoping her pillow or the rushing water of the shower would drown out her cries. There is no sin in fantasizing.
There is sin in begging Damon to bend her over Alaric's weight bench and fuck her so hard, she can't walk straight.
She barely hears the words Damon is saying, too focused on his mouth, on what it would feel like to have a healthy, sober, not-emotionally-unraveling Damon kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, his hands grasping for every inch of her body. Elena feels the heat building inside her, feels a shift between her legs, and she knows instantly she is wet and he hasn't even touched her yet.
Elena sees Damon's brow furrow briefly, and she knows he can smell her arousal; Stefan used to tell her it drove him crazy, when he could tell how badly she wanted him and he had to wait.
Stop thinking about Stefan.
The last thing Elena wants on her mind is Stefan; if something happens with Damon, she doesn't want him to doubt for a second she wants him, not his little brother.
It doesn't take much to lean forward and press her mouth to Damon's; this is not the polite goodbye kiss of his deathbed. Elena immediately tangles her fingers in his unruly dark hair, forcing him to respond, pushing her tongue past his lips. Damon groans into her mouth, responding ferociously, and Elena arches her back, brushing her breasts against his firm chest.
She cries out when Damon jerks away, pushing past her to stand on the opposite side of the weight bench, his breathing erratic.
“What's wrong?” she gasps, taking two steps towards him only for Damon to take two steps back.
“What's wrong is you don't want me; you want Stefan. And the only reason you're doing this is because you're not...you know...stable right now.”
Elena stares at him in confusion and exasperation for a moment before snapping, “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Elena - “
“You've spent the last year trying to get in my pants and now, when I'm willing, you don't want to?”
“I didn't say I don't want to - “
“Then why - “
“Because I'm not your fucking stand-in sex toy while Stefan is off the rails!”
Elena recoils from the words, glaring hatefully at him for suggesting she would use him that way. Okay, sure, if Stefan hadn't gone off with Klaus, they certainly wouldn't be in this situation, but Stefan had and everything is changing and Elena...
She's just a human blood bag to Stefan now.
“Fine,” she grits out, tugging her loose tank top from her body, dropping it beside the bench. “Then go.” Tucking her thumbs into the waist of her pants, Elena pushes them over her hips, toeing off her shoes in the process. As she reaches for her sports bra, Damon gasps, “What the hell are you doing?”
“You don't want to have sex? Fine. But I do, so if you don't want to do it with me, I'll do it myself.” Shedding her bra, lying back on the bench in only her panties, Elena stares up at him for a moment before closing her eyes. “Just go, Damon.”
He doesn't move, and Elena feels the overwhelming urge to chicken out; this is not who she is, the kind of girl who behaves so wantonly. This is Katherine's behavior, and, while Elena knows it shouldn't, it feels good to stop thinking and just do.
Taking a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed, Elena begins to stroke her breasts, soft and teasing, the way she likes; she deliberately avoids her nipples, pushing up to demand attention. She still does not hear Damon's footsteps, only the steady in-and-out of his breath, and she finally slides her thumb across her nipples, drawing a breathy gasp from her throat. With her eyes closed and the scent of Damon above her, Elena is almost able to imagine it is his fingers pinching and rolling her turgid flesh, making her body shudder; when she begins to slide her hand down her torso, she finally hears Damon move, walking around the work-out bench until he stands at the foot. Elena waits, expecting him to say something, to make a move, but he stays silent.
It makes her wetter.
She did this for Matt once; it had been early in their relationship and he had asked, red-faced and stuttering, if he could watch her masturbate. Back then, when she did it, Elena had been embarrassed, unsure; the entire situation was awkward and neither of them ever mentioned it again.
As Elena's fingers slip beneath the band of her underwear, Elena wonders if this is going to end up the same way.
The moment she touches her clit, Elena shouts, surprising herself even as her hips cant up; it is too much direct touch too soon, borderline painful, and she whimpers as she reaches downward, teasing her opening instead. Just as one finger breaches her, Elena feels Damon's hands settle on her knees, and she stills, eyes popping open.
Damon stares at her unwaveringly, his eyes dark with passion. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. And then Damon slowly slid his hands up her thighs, softly quipping, “Well, don't stop now. It's just getting good.”
When she pushes her hips up to meet her hand again, Damon's fingers hook in her underwear, drawing them down. Elena lifts her legs to help before letting them fall naturally back to the ground; it is not until Damon makes an appreciative noise in his throat Elena realizes just how exposed she is in this position, every inch of her literally on display. The person she tries to be every day, the good and patient Elena Gilbert, recoils from this level of exposure, demands she stop and remember this is not something she should want, nothing something Stefan would want.
But the person she is whenever she's with Damon, the person Elena is afraid to show anyone else, that person rolls her hips upward, presses more firmly against her questing hands, and gutturally moans Damon's name.
“Is this how you like it?” Damon asks, his voice deceptively calm, as if he is asking her about the weather rather than how she likes to get herself off. When Elena says nothing, only increases the speed and force of her fingers, Damon catches her wrists, forcibly stilling her movements. Elena cries out in complaint, her torso rising off the bench painfully as her sweaty skin stuck to the bench's covering.
“Is this how you like it?” Damon repeats, leaning in just close enough that Elena could feel his breath against her skin. “Are you a hard and fast kind of girl?”
Knowing she is going to be left hanging on the precipice of pleasure if she doesn't play along, Elena manages, “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes...Which times?”
Elena isn't sure which she wants more in that moment: to murder him or fuck him. “When...When it's been awhile...or I'm just really...”
“Really what?” he prompts, tightening his grip on her wrist when she attempts to touch herself again.
“Horny!” she snaps, frustration boiling over. “Jesus, Damon, just let me come!”
His impassive face cracks, a seductive smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The moment he releases her wrists, Elena tries to resume the frantic rhythm she has perfected under the covers when Damon's hands settle on her hips, jerking her to the end of the bench; she curses at the pull of her sweaty skin against the bench and then curses again as Damon sinks to his knees between her splayed legs, his palms pressing against the soft skin of her inner thighs, opening her wider.
“Tell me you want me,” he requests, his hot breath misting over her sensitized flesh, causing Elena's hips to twist impatiently.
“I want you,” Elena immediately gasps, rocking her hips in supplication.
Damon's eyes flicked upwards, locking with her own; the bright blue sears Elena to the core, especially when he orders, “Now tell me you aren't going to regret this.”
She swallows hard, her throat clicking, bracing herself for the admission which has the potential to drive away everyone she cares about. “I never regret anything I do with you.”
Damon presses a featherlight kiss to the crease of her thigh and then he is gathering her wetness of his tongue, hard and insistent, and Elena is shouting because nothing has ever felt this good in her entire life. She grasps his hair in one hand, needing something to gain purchase on; her other hand flails, tries to keep herself on the narrow bench but it is difficult as Damon's tongue breaches her, his thumb keeping a firm, constant pressure on her clit.
“Don't stop!” Elena pleads when Damon lifts his head, his mouth and chin shining with her arousal. “Please, Damon, please - “
He rests his palm on her stomach, using just enough of his strength to keep her reclining on the bench. When she tries to rise again, Damon turns his head, nipping her hard on the inner thigh and it does little to still her, Elena snapping her hips up so quickly, it startles both of them and nearly tips the bench.
“Goddamn it, Damon, please!” she begs, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “I need - God, I need - “
“Are you ready?” he asks.
She has no idea what she is agreeing to, but Elena nods frantically anyway, praying this isn't yet another tease.
This time, when Damon's mouth returns, it is almost too much; immediately he slips two fingers inside her, crooking them upwards to stroke in an unforgiving tempo which matches his tongue, which is lashing the bud he is also sucking, a degree of stimulation Elena has never felt before; she kicks out with one of her legs, needing to move, unsure if this is too much or not enough, but Damon doesn't seem to doubt she can take it, increasing the pressure of his tongue.
As her orgasm sharply builds, Elena knows it is going to be monstrous, and she can feel the wetness running out of her soaking, soaking Damon's hand and the bench; she feels a hint of embarrassment at how needy she is for him, a thought which quickly disappears as Damon moans against her, the sound of his mouth against her wet flesh echoing in her ears as she begins to gasp, “Oh, oh, oh!”
Her vision whites out when the orgasm hits her, the force of it so intense, it makes every muscle in her body tense, frozen in pleasure for a few seconds, her voice silenced, before her ability to move and speak returns; Elena vaguely registers the moans and shouts she is making, but she can't seem to stop, especially when Damon lazily swipes his tongue up the length of her, pressing a soft, parting kiss to her clit. Even the minimal amount of contact makes Elena moan in discomfort at the over-stimulation; she tries to pull up her legs but the pressure of her legs coming together is too much for her sore flesh. She lets her legs drop again, her body still quivering in the aftermath as Damon rises, using her discarded top to wipe at his face.
“Got you good, huh?” he quips with a smirk, but, even through her slightly blurred vision, Elena can see the insecurity playing over his face. He walks up the length of the bench, taking a seat above her head, idly carding his fingers through her soaked, tangled hair.
“Damon...” is all she can manage, her hand grasping blindly for his.
He catches her palm, twining his fingers with hers. They are both quiet for a moment, Elena's breathing starting to regulate again, when Damon reveals, “You're beautiful when you come.”
“Are you?” she counters, smiling when surprise registers in Damon's eyes.
The grin spreading across Damon's face is the very definition of sin, and it makes Elena's temperature start to rise all over again. “Let's find out.”
Author: lit_chick08
Pairings: Damon/Elena, mentions Elena/Stefan, Elena/Matt
Rating: NC-17; this is pretty much straight-up porn with a teensy bit of plot
Spoilers: goes AU during 3x06 “Smells Like Teen Spirit”
Word Count: 2307
Warning: Smut, voyeurism/exhibition, orgasm denial
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: Damon can be hard-headed sometimes; Elena gives him a gentle...nudge
Prompt: written for the tvd_anon kink meme for the prompt: Damon and Elena have a sweaty post-workout f*** after Damon shows Elena a vampire's “sweet spot.” Oral please!
The moment he pulls her body against his, the tips of his fingers pressing against the soft skin beneath her ribs, Elena knows she is going to fuck Damon Salvatore. She can pay all the lip service she wants to saving Stefan and everlasting love, but Elena can feel the press of Damon's hardening cock against the small of her back, can feel his breath against her sensitive neck, and Elena wants.
It's okay to love them both. That's what Katherine said months earlier, vocalizing the thing Elena used to desperately hope to avoid.
But now Damon was here and her body was screaming at the idea of pulling away, of locking herself away. It isn't as if she hasn't thought of it before, like she hasn't come a dozen times with a hand between her thighs thinking of what it could (would) be like, hoping her pillow or the rushing water of the shower would drown out her cries. There is no sin in fantasizing.
There is sin in begging Damon to bend her over Alaric's weight bench and fuck her so hard, she can't walk straight.
She barely hears the words Damon is saying, too focused on his mouth, on what it would feel like to have a healthy, sober, not-emotionally-unraveling Damon kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, his hands grasping for every inch of her body. Elena feels the heat building inside her, feels a shift between her legs, and she knows instantly she is wet and he hasn't even touched her yet.
Elena sees Damon's brow furrow briefly, and she knows he can smell her arousal; Stefan used to tell her it drove him crazy, when he could tell how badly she wanted him and he had to wait.
Stop thinking about Stefan.
The last thing Elena wants on her mind is Stefan; if something happens with Damon, she doesn't want him to doubt for a second she wants him, not his little brother.
It doesn't take much to lean forward and press her mouth to Damon's; this is not the polite goodbye kiss of his deathbed. Elena immediately tangles her fingers in his unruly dark hair, forcing him to respond, pushing her tongue past his lips. Damon groans into her mouth, responding ferociously, and Elena arches her back, brushing her breasts against his firm chest.
She cries out when Damon jerks away, pushing past her to stand on the opposite side of the weight bench, his breathing erratic.
“What's wrong?” she gasps, taking two steps towards him only for Damon to take two steps back.
“What's wrong is you don't want me; you want Stefan. And the only reason you're doing this is because you're not...you know...stable right now.”
Elena stares at him in confusion and exasperation for a moment before snapping, “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Elena - “
“You've spent the last year trying to get in my pants and now, when I'm willing, you don't want to?”
“I didn't say I don't want to - “
“Then why - “
“Because I'm not your fucking stand-in sex toy while Stefan is off the rails!”
Elena recoils from the words, glaring hatefully at him for suggesting she would use him that way. Okay, sure, if Stefan hadn't gone off with Klaus, they certainly wouldn't be in this situation, but Stefan had and everything is changing and Elena...
She's just a human blood bag to Stefan now.
“Fine,” she grits out, tugging her loose tank top from her body, dropping it beside the bench. “Then go.” Tucking her thumbs into the waist of her pants, Elena pushes them over her hips, toeing off her shoes in the process. As she reaches for her sports bra, Damon gasps, “What the hell are you doing?”
“You don't want to have sex? Fine. But I do, so if you don't want to do it with me, I'll do it myself.” Shedding her bra, lying back on the bench in only her panties, Elena stares up at him for a moment before closing her eyes. “Just go, Damon.”
He doesn't move, and Elena feels the overwhelming urge to chicken out; this is not who she is, the kind of girl who behaves so wantonly. This is Katherine's behavior, and, while Elena knows it shouldn't, it feels good to stop thinking and just do.
Taking a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed, Elena begins to stroke her breasts, soft and teasing, the way she likes; she deliberately avoids her nipples, pushing up to demand attention. She still does not hear Damon's footsteps, only the steady in-and-out of his breath, and she finally slides her thumb across her nipples, drawing a breathy gasp from her throat. With her eyes closed and the scent of Damon above her, Elena is almost able to imagine it is his fingers pinching and rolling her turgid flesh, making her body shudder; when she begins to slide her hand down her torso, she finally hears Damon move, walking around the work-out bench until he stands at the foot. Elena waits, expecting him to say something, to make a move, but he stays silent.
It makes her wetter.
She did this for Matt once; it had been early in their relationship and he had asked, red-faced and stuttering, if he could watch her masturbate. Back then, when she did it, Elena had been embarrassed, unsure; the entire situation was awkward and neither of them ever mentioned it again.
As Elena's fingers slip beneath the band of her underwear, Elena wonders if this is going to end up the same way.
The moment she touches her clit, Elena shouts, surprising herself even as her hips cant up; it is too much direct touch too soon, borderline painful, and she whimpers as she reaches downward, teasing her opening instead. Just as one finger breaches her, Elena feels Damon's hands settle on her knees, and she stills, eyes popping open.
Damon stares at her unwaveringly, his eyes dark with passion. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. And then Damon slowly slid his hands up her thighs, softly quipping, “Well, don't stop now. It's just getting good.”
When she pushes her hips up to meet her hand again, Damon's fingers hook in her underwear, drawing them down. Elena lifts her legs to help before letting them fall naturally back to the ground; it is not until Damon makes an appreciative noise in his throat Elena realizes just how exposed she is in this position, every inch of her literally on display. The person she tries to be every day, the good and patient Elena Gilbert, recoils from this level of exposure, demands she stop and remember this is not something she should want, nothing something Stefan would want.
But the person she is whenever she's with Damon, the person Elena is afraid to show anyone else, that person rolls her hips upward, presses more firmly against her questing hands, and gutturally moans Damon's name.
“Is this how you like it?” Damon asks, his voice deceptively calm, as if he is asking her about the weather rather than how she likes to get herself off. When Elena says nothing, only increases the speed and force of her fingers, Damon catches her wrists, forcibly stilling her movements. Elena cries out in complaint, her torso rising off the bench painfully as her sweaty skin stuck to the bench's covering.
“Is this how you like it?” Damon repeats, leaning in just close enough that Elena could feel his breath against her skin. “Are you a hard and fast kind of girl?”
Knowing she is going to be left hanging on the precipice of pleasure if she doesn't play along, Elena manages, “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes...Which times?”
Elena isn't sure which she wants more in that moment: to murder him or fuck him. “When...When it's been awhile...or I'm just really...”
“Really what?” he prompts, tightening his grip on her wrist when she attempts to touch herself again.
“Horny!” she snaps, frustration boiling over. “Jesus, Damon, just let me come!”
His impassive face cracks, a seductive smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The moment he releases her wrists, Elena tries to resume the frantic rhythm she has perfected under the covers when Damon's hands settle on her hips, jerking her to the end of the bench; she curses at the pull of her sweaty skin against the bench and then curses again as Damon sinks to his knees between her splayed legs, his palms pressing against the soft skin of her inner thighs, opening her wider.
“Tell me you want me,” he requests, his hot breath misting over her sensitized flesh, causing Elena's hips to twist impatiently.
“I want you,” Elena immediately gasps, rocking her hips in supplication.
Damon's eyes flicked upwards, locking with her own; the bright blue sears Elena to the core, especially when he orders, “Now tell me you aren't going to regret this.”
She swallows hard, her throat clicking, bracing herself for the admission which has the potential to drive away everyone she cares about. “I never regret anything I do with you.”
Damon presses a featherlight kiss to the crease of her thigh and then he is gathering her wetness of his tongue, hard and insistent, and Elena is shouting because nothing has ever felt this good in her entire life. She grasps his hair in one hand, needing something to gain purchase on; her other hand flails, tries to keep herself on the narrow bench but it is difficult as Damon's tongue breaches her, his thumb keeping a firm, constant pressure on her clit.
“Don't stop!” Elena pleads when Damon lifts his head, his mouth and chin shining with her arousal. “Please, Damon, please - “
He rests his palm on her stomach, using just enough of his strength to keep her reclining on the bench. When she tries to rise again, Damon turns his head, nipping her hard on the inner thigh and it does little to still her, Elena snapping her hips up so quickly, it startles both of them and nearly tips the bench.
“Goddamn it, Damon, please!” she begs, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “I need - God, I need - “
“Are you ready?” he asks.
She has no idea what she is agreeing to, but Elena nods frantically anyway, praying this isn't yet another tease.
This time, when Damon's mouth returns, it is almost too much; immediately he slips two fingers inside her, crooking them upwards to stroke in an unforgiving tempo which matches his tongue, which is lashing the bud he is also sucking, a degree of stimulation Elena has never felt before; she kicks out with one of her legs, needing to move, unsure if this is too much or not enough, but Damon doesn't seem to doubt she can take it, increasing the pressure of his tongue.
As her orgasm sharply builds, Elena knows it is going to be monstrous, and she can feel the wetness running out of her soaking, soaking Damon's hand and the bench; she feels a hint of embarrassment at how needy she is for him, a thought which quickly disappears as Damon moans against her, the sound of his mouth against her wet flesh echoing in her ears as she begins to gasp, “Oh, oh, oh!”
Her vision whites out when the orgasm hits her, the force of it so intense, it makes every muscle in her body tense, frozen in pleasure for a few seconds, her voice silenced, before her ability to move and speak returns; Elena vaguely registers the moans and shouts she is making, but she can't seem to stop, especially when Damon lazily swipes his tongue up the length of her, pressing a soft, parting kiss to her clit. Even the minimal amount of contact makes Elena moan in discomfort at the over-stimulation; she tries to pull up her legs but the pressure of her legs coming together is too much for her sore flesh. She lets her legs drop again, her body still quivering in the aftermath as Damon rises, using her discarded top to wipe at his face.
“Got you good, huh?” he quips with a smirk, but, even through her slightly blurred vision, Elena can see the insecurity playing over his face. He walks up the length of the bench, taking a seat above her head, idly carding his fingers through her soaked, tangled hair.
“Damon...” is all she can manage, her hand grasping blindly for his.
He catches her palm, twining his fingers with hers. They are both quiet for a moment, Elena's breathing starting to regulate again, when Damon reveals, “You're beautiful when you come.”
“Are you?” she counters, smiling when surprise registers in Damon's eyes.
The grin spreading across Damon's face is the very definition of sin, and it makes Elena's temperature start to rise all over again. “Let's find out.”