3.5 - Detention, Miss Gilbert
Author: pleasebekidding
Rating: R
Characters: Alaric/Elena
Word Count: ~2300
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries does not belong to me. If it did, Alaric would be alive and married to Damon.
Warnings: Teacher/student. PWP. Deal with it. BAM
Summary: Elena is the only one in detention. Smut ensues.
Alaric swipes the detention sheet from the front office on his way back to his classroom and squints at it, because it makes. No. Sense.
For a start, there is only one name on it, and in Mystic Falls, half the student body is on detention at any one time. Second, the name is Elena Gilbert.
He pushes into his classroom with a frown on his face. “Elena? Why did…?”
She shrugs. “Went thirty seconds over on a math quiz. I wouldn’t give up the pen.”
Great; and because the math teacher is an asshole both of their afternoons are ruined. Alaric drops his bag behind the desk, throws his empty thermos on top of it, and frowns. “Great,” he says. “Want to write lines? Got homework to do?”
She giggles, in the glorious way she sometimes does. “Empty classroom,” she says. “I can think of better things to do than homework.”
Alaric knocks a stapler, tape dispenser and a box of paperclips off the desk with his elbow because really, she’s just getting blatant now. “Fuck,” he says, kneeling, to pick up the paperclips, and Elena laughs, crouching to help him.
“Jumpy,” she says.
“Don’t play games,” Alaric answers, trying not to smile.
“I wasn’t.” Elena returns the stapler and tape dispenser to the desk. “I was going to say, we could do a bit of training. Why not, right? You were teaching me self-defense moves and I was working my way up to kicking you in the balls.” Elena stands up.
Alaric does not let his eyes run over the mile of leg a foot from his face.
“Self-defense.”
“You’ve been turning me into Buffy, remember?” She places a hand on her waist and juts one hip out, and he doesn’t notice that either.
Alaric blushes because clearly, he’s the one with the filthy mind. So as he replaces the paperclips he is very, very careful not to think about the way Elena’s tiny shorts cling so beautifully to the satisfying curve of her magnificent ass.
“You’re not exactly dressed for it,” he says.
Elena shrugs. “I get attacked, I’m not going to get a chance to get changed before I fight back. C’mon, Ric,” she says, and her pout, the most lickable thing in the whole of Mystic Falls, is another one of the things Alaric does not notice.
Okay, whatever, they’ll train, and then sign out at the office in an hour and then Alaric will go directly to the boarding house to burn off some of this fucking sexual tension.
“Okay,” he says. “Slowly the first time.”
“Good rule for life,” she agrees, and Alaric steadfastly refuses to detect any double entendre in her words. He steps up behind her and puts an arm over her shoulder, careful not to notice the soft curve of her chest.
“Remember what to do?”
Elena nods. “Stomp on your instep…” she bumps it with her foot, instead, of course. “Elbow to the solar plexus… throw my head back to break your nose.” When she tips her head back gently, her neck seems impossibly long, all of a sudden, and Alaric wants to press his mouth against it. He figures he could pretend he was being a vampire, but elects not to at the last moment. “And then, if you haven’t let go, significantly reduce your chances of having a family with a kick to the nuts.” She mimes the movements. Alaric isn’t looking forward to the next part.
He steps away. “Are you ready?”
“I’m supposed to be ready all the time, Ric,” she says, glancing behind her.
The worst thing might be her waist. Tiny waist and an apple butt, it’s a killer combination. She narrows to nothing, and then flares out to those perfect curves, and Alaric can just imagine what it would be like to run his hands over her, how warm her skin would be.
It’s Damon’s fault. Just when Alaric is swimming in hormone soup he whispers something filthy about what Elena could be doing if she was there with them and it’s infecting his brain.
“Ric?”
He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, contemplating Elena’s ass. “Sorry,” he says. “Zoned out.”
“Yeah?” Elena looks straight ahead again. “Thinking about what?”
Fuuuuuck.
“Nothing. Okay,” Alaric says, and takes a step forward, grabbing her the same way again, but because he’s done it quickly, his hand has landed directly, and undeniably, over Elena’s breast. “Oh, shit,” he says, trying to pull away.
But Elena is quicker. She puts her hand over Alaric’s, and squeezes gently.
He’s stuck, he’s sunk, and Elena’s breast might be the best thing he’s had his hand on in a very long time. Elena leans back, and Alaric’s treacherous arm - the arm, it should be said, that a second ago was balled in a determined fist, snakes around her waist.
“You never taught me what to do if I want to get caught,” she says, rolling her head back against Alaric’s shoulder.
“Elena…”
“I can think of better things that you mouth could be doing, right now, than complaining. Are you really gonna pretend you don’t look at me? You think I wear these clothes for the boys in this school?”
Perhaps Alaric has consumed some sort of mind-altering chemicals. Seems the only explanation for why Alaric’s open mouth has begun to press kisses to Elena’s shoulder. She reaches for his hip, as if to bring Alaric closer, but really, clothed, they couldn’t get any closer.
Alaric really, really wishes he hadn’t thought that, but he did; also bonus points for the fact that his fingers have begun to tease Elena’s nipple erect. Elena moans a little and presses back against Alaric, just a touch more.
This is when the rest of Alaric’s body starts to betray him.
“Is that for me?” Elena says, rubbing her ass against what is rapidly moving from an almost-deniable semi to a full-blown erection, and truthfully, starting to cause problems for Alaric, whose jeans really weren’t meant to house something so large.
Elena turns in Alaric’s arms. “Are you going to keep pretending? Or can we skip the part where I tell you I’m an adult, and this is my choice, and you list all the reasons this is wrong? That part,” Elena says, with her lips right up against Alaric’s throat, “would be the boring part. I vote to skip it.”
Alaric tries to shake himself out of it but Elena’s hand pressed over his aching cock will not let him.
“You don’t want this,” he says feebly. Elena steps back and Alaric thinks maybe she has come to her senses (he’s rapidly trying to work out whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing and coming up with nothing) when she unbuttons and unzips her tiny, tiny (tiny) shorts. She takes one of Alaric’s hands (it’s acting quite independently of him and with no permission whatsoever) and slips it down beneath the waistband, down into her panties (jesus fuck) and further, until his fingers (once again moving independently and without Alaric’s consent) are working their ways steadily into the slick folds of Elena’s pussy.
She’s so hot and so wet and her clitoris is a swollen nub of rainbows and unicorns and every other happy thing, and when Alaric presses against it Elena punches a hot little sound out of her throat, rolling against his hand, and reaches for Alaric’s left arm to steady herself with. “Does it feel like I want this to you?”
Alaric withdraws his hand, really pretty reluctant, to tell the truth, but having fingered his young ward in an empty classroom he’s thinking very seriously about getting out before he can do any more damage. He’s about to say words to that effect when Elena grabs his wrist, brings his hand to her mouth, and sucks. Licks his fingers clean and yeah, the jeans are becoming a serious problem.
“There’s no coming back from this,” he says. “We do this, we can’t undo it.” He chooses not to analyze the fact that he is in the process of removing his belt, that he has unbuttoned his jeans and (oh sweet holy relief) apparently pushes his boxers away, too. Elena smiles sweetly, for a second, and then reaches out, closing a loose, lazy hand over Alaric’s cock, and giving a slow stroke.
“You say that like you think I would want to come back from it. What’s wrong with enjoying sex? You do,” she says.
This, of course, means he and Damon are less quiet than they should be, but Alaric will deal with that later. Right now, a much more pressing issue is: Desk, or wall? No pillow so the floor is out and there are remarkably few sofas in the classrooms at Mystic Falls High School.
Dear god, her hand. Her hand, her hand. It’s not enough but it is so sweet. Small and feminine and altogether too practiced. As if she can read his mind, she says “desk. Yours.”
Alaric swings Elena around by the hips and presses her against the edge of it and it takes four hands a very long time to do what two hands would have done in moment, namely, remove Elena’s ridiculous shorts. She sits on the edge of the desk and Alaric pulls them all the way off, running his hands over her (mile-long) legs as he does it.
And then his hands are cupping Elena’s perfect ass, and he jerks her forward on the desk and - oh, god, yes, one good firm roll of his hips and Alaric is buried in the hot, wet, center of the universe.
Elena arches her spine, lets her head roll back, and lets out a moan that makes Alaric shiver. He closes his arms over her back, and pulls her closer again, and Elena pulls her shirt over her head. Still trusting him to hold her up, she unclasps her bra, and lets it falls to the desk.
Alaric is conscious that this stunning creature, all long lines and obscenely swollen lips, is now fully nude, and he barely has his cock out of his pants; but when she sits up straighter again, closing her legs hard around his hips to pull him deeper (and my god, she’s tight, she’s so magnificently young and perfect and her breasts are high and firm) he dismisses it with the vague thought that next time, they’ll do this right.
(Next time?)
Their faces are close, now, and sure, everything is in the wrong order but whatever. Time to kiss. Filthy and open-mouthed, tongues slipping and sliding together in the way tongues are wont to do, a brief clash of teeth that seems inevitable given the ferocity building up between their bodies. Alaric runs his hands over the knobs in Elena’s spine, licking over her neck as she tangles her hand in his hair.
Elena presses her lips up close to Alaric’s ear. “Does Damon bite you?” she asks.
“Oh, god, Elena,” Alaric answers, and speeds up, just a touch, but it’s enough, apparently; perhaps it shifts the angle or something because Elena lets out an almost sub-sonic moan. Alaric slips a hand between their bodies, thumbing at her clitoris, and just a few seconds later Elena begins a series of shudders that genuinely threaten Alaric’s sanity.
She clamps down hard - it shouldn’t be possible, they are such a tight fit - and Alaric comes hard, slowing his thrusts, barely pausing a second to notice that he didn’t even think about a condom, jesus christ, how old is he? - with Elena still clutching him tight.
Feels so good, feels too good. He rests his head against Elena’s shoulder for a second, and she rubs circles into his shoulder. “Next time,” she says, “we’ll do this properly.”
“Next time?”
Elena giggles. “Did I stutter? That was fun,” she says, and Alaric tries not to be completely overwhelmed by the crushing depression bought on by the fact that his erection is softening to nothing, that he is slipping unbidden from between Elena’s legs. “Why wouldn’t we do it again?”
Alaric steps back and yeah, it’s totally, totally depressing.
Tucking himself back into his pants he reaches for a box of tissues to pass to Elena and picks up her tiny shorts from the ground. He can’t quite look at her but she doesn’t seem to mind, just giggles quietly. “I don’t know why you’re being so weird about this,” she says, accepting the shorts, pulling them up over her (mile-long) legs and fastening them at the top. Alaric re-buttons his jeans and watches as Elena traps her glorious breasts in the cruel cage of her bra. She pulls the tiny scrap of fabric that passes for a singlet over the top.
“Well, there’s the vampire elephant in the room,” Alaric says. “Damon will probably spend a whole weekend breaking my neck if he gets a whiff of us.”
Elena laughs at that, and wraps her arms around Alaric’s waist, and tilts her head up to kiss him again. “Gets a whiff of us?”
“Enhanced vampire… super-smelling powers of…” Elena rolls her head back, and laughs again. “I can see how you might find that funny. But you don’t know what it’s like to wake up…”
“Not that,” she says, brushing her lips over Alaric’s again. “And I think your neck’s safe. If he was going to kill you,” she adds, “he’d have done it by now. Look.” She cocks her head toward the window, and Alaric feels all the blood drain from his face.
There’s a huge black crow on the windowsill.
A crow shouldn’t be able to look smug. This crow? It’s smug.
Damon Fucking Salvatore.
“Detention’s over, Mr Saltzman,” Elena says, face still flushed, energized and unspeakably gorgeous. “Let’s go home.”