Haunted (Damon/Elena[/Stefan])
Title: Haunted
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1200 (one-hundred-words-per-story my ass...)
Prompt: Damon/Elena(/Stefan), He kissed my lips / I taste your mouth, oh! / He pulled me in, / I was disgusted with myself / Cause when I'm with him I'm thinking of you, for December Meme of Doom
For: badboy-fangirl
Spoilers: 4x01 (set somewhere between 4x02 and 4x06, but doesn't refer to anything happening in those episodes)
Summary: Elena is with Stefan, but she's thinking about Damon instead.
A/N: Happy December! :D
Haunted
Elena thinks about Damon a lot. He's difficult not to think about, invasive and loud in her mind, his eyes wide open and filled with want. They aren't innocent at all - those thoughts swirling around Elena's head when she's driving to school, or doing dishes, or getting ready for bed. Thoughts about Damon by definition cannot be innocent.
***
Damon kisses well, decides Elena one Thursday afternoon when she's doing her English homework. And she should know: she's spent weeks analysing what they did in Denver touch by touch and breath by breath, remembering and evaluating. Damon kisses like a fool, goes all for it until he can't catch a breath, all tongue, teeth, hunger and greed.
Of course Elena knows she'll never kiss Damon again, she wouldn't want to kiss Damon again (not yet, not quite yet). But she feels so angry sometimes, angry, betrayed and all kinds of sad, and fantasizing about Damon is the simplest form of rebellion she can come up with.
“What are you thinking about?” asks Stefan from behind his book, so Elena gives him a beautiful smile.
“You know. Stuff.”
***
It's like they have an affair.
It's not a real affair, of course, no sneaking around or making out in dark alleys, oh no. She does it all by herself, feels the heat grow between her legs as she wonders if she's gonna get caught staring at Damon's mouth, at his hands or hips.
Sometimes he does catch her.
“You know, all you have to do is ask,” he quips; he must be in a very good mood if he's making fun of this. Lately Damon's mostly been keeping an appropriate distance, no innuendos or eye-flirting.
“I know,” she says lightly like it's a joke.
(It's funny because it's true.)
He laughs, actually laughs, and Elena watches him carefully as he comes closer, takes her right hand, bows in a perfect parody of a gentleman and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. He lingers for a second longer than he should (that second is for him, not for her), and then lets go without a word.
It's all done in jest, of course, Elena is well aware of that, but there is something in Damon's eyes when he's lowering his head that sneaks into her mind like a worm. Afterwards she can't shake it. For the rest of the day she keeps catching herself obsessively staring at Damon's face, looking for the same spark, an emotion she can't quite define.
(An emotion she's seen before: his hands desperately clutching her waist, his mouth sliding down her collarbone, and something haunted in his eyes when she pulled his head up.)
She sleeps with Stefan that night; she lets him cover her neck with kisses and she cups his cheek after he enters her. There are touches, whispers and moans, but when Stefan closes his eyes, Elena sneaks her right hand under the covers.
She feels the delicate pressure of the fabric against her knuckles when she comes.
***
All right, so she has an affair.
Sometimes when Damon is not home, Elena sneaks into his room. She does it because she wants to do something daring, something exciting and provocative, but in the end she always chickens out before she does something truly shocking. So she doesn't go through his underwear drawer, doesn't steal a book from his nightstand or fall asleep on his bed, for him to find her. Nothing like that.
One day she almost puts on one of Damon's shirts just to experience the thrill of walking like that into the library and sitting right between the Salvatores. Of course she freaks out when she's in the middle of buttoning herself up, frantically throws the shirt back into the closet and runs away, but still. She thinks she deserves some points for effort.
The best she can do is to walk into Damon's bathroom, turn on the lights (how courageous of her) and spend long minutes staring at the mirror.
“I have an affair,” she tells her reflection.
(It's nice to be able to talk to someone from time to time.)
She looks at herself like she thinks Damon would: long glances full of questions and wonder (she can't really muster up the awe that sometimes shows on his face, so she goes with wonder instead). She hopes that maybe that way she'll be able to figure out what he sees in her when there's no reason for anyone to want her quite so much.
That's how Stefan finds her: staring at a mirror with her eyes wide open, her fingertips almost touching the glass as if it held some kind of an answer. A part of her wants him to yell at her, accuse and demand explanations (she has an affair, you see), but he just takes her hand and nods like he understood, so Elena remains silent.
“Let's go,” he says, and Elena doesn't object, but when he makes a step towards the door, Elena turs around, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him.
(Elena kisses like a fool.)
It's hungry and greedy, and she doesn't even care. She kneels down on the floor and pulls Stefan with her, desperately hoping he'd want her more than he doesn't want to have sex in his brother's bathroom. He hesitates first, but then he finally kisses her back, and Elena frantically swallows his moan, quickly, quickly, they need to be quick about this.
It's too late when Elena realizes that here she has no sheet she could wrap around her knuckles to hide the thoughts swirling around her head.
Suddenly the heat she feels between her legs has nothing to do with Stefan moving inside her hard and fast. They so could get caught now, but she could get caught even more, because her brain is about to explode with all the thoughts she shouldn't be having.
They show in her eyes, she knows they do.
Elena looks right at Stefan as she lets herself feel urgent lips moving down her neck and ragged breaths shaking against her body. She wants Stefan to see how much she wants, but he closes his eyes the way he so often does, lost in sensation.
(It may or may not have something to do with her.)
So Elena screams from the top of her lungs, and prays he doesn't try to kiss her, because someone else is kissing her right now, teeth and all. Someone is desperately swallowing her tongue, hips pushing against her body and hands holding on to her waist.
He's coming undone and she didn't even touch him, she didn't have to, because all he ever wanted was for her to see him.
When everything is done, Elena composes herself quickly; it helps that she can feel cold tiles against her back. Apparently they knocked over Damon's soap dish, how unfortunate. Elena quickly makes a joke about it, and Stefan laughs before he starts picking up the soap bars, all but one that Elena hides behind her back for no good reason.
(Like she needs a reason.)
When she gets up and looks at the mirror to smooth her hair, there's something haunted in her eyes.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1200 (one-hundred-words-per-story my ass...)
Prompt: Damon/Elena(/Stefan), He kissed my lips / I taste your mouth, oh! / He pulled me in, / I was disgusted with myself / Cause when I'm with him I'm thinking of you, for December Meme of Doom
For: badboy-fangirl
Spoilers: 4x01 (set somewhere between 4x02 and 4x06, but doesn't refer to anything happening in those episodes)
Summary: Elena is with Stefan, but she's thinking about Damon instead.
A/N: Happy December! :D
Haunted
Elena thinks about Damon a lot. He's difficult not to think about, invasive and loud in her mind, his eyes wide open and filled with want. They aren't innocent at all - those thoughts swirling around Elena's head when she's driving to school, or doing dishes, or getting ready for bed. Thoughts about Damon by definition cannot be innocent.
***
Damon kisses well, decides Elena one Thursday afternoon when she's doing her English homework. And she should know: she's spent weeks analysing what they did in Denver touch by touch and breath by breath, remembering and evaluating. Damon kisses like a fool, goes all for it until he can't catch a breath, all tongue, teeth, hunger and greed.
Of course Elena knows she'll never kiss Damon again, she wouldn't want to kiss Damon again (not yet, not quite yet). But she feels so angry sometimes, angry, betrayed and all kinds of sad, and fantasizing about Damon is the simplest form of rebellion she can come up with.
“What are you thinking about?” asks Stefan from behind his book, so Elena gives him a beautiful smile.
“You know. Stuff.”
***
It's like they have an affair.
It's not a real affair, of course, no sneaking around or making out in dark alleys, oh no. She does it all by herself, feels the heat grow between her legs as she wonders if she's gonna get caught staring at Damon's mouth, at his hands or hips.
Sometimes he does catch her.
“You know, all you have to do is ask,” he quips; he must be in a very good mood if he's making fun of this. Lately Damon's mostly been keeping an appropriate distance, no innuendos or eye-flirting.
“I know,” she says lightly like it's a joke.
(It's funny because it's true.)
He laughs, actually laughs, and Elena watches him carefully as he comes closer, takes her right hand, bows in a perfect parody of a gentleman and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. He lingers for a second longer than he should (that second is for him, not for her), and then lets go without a word.
It's all done in jest, of course, Elena is well aware of that, but there is something in Damon's eyes when he's lowering his head that sneaks into her mind like a worm. Afterwards she can't shake it. For the rest of the day she keeps catching herself obsessively staring at Damon's face, looking for the same spark, an emotion she can't quite define.
(An emotion she's seen before: his hands desperately clutching her waist, his mouth sliding down her collarbone, and something haunted in his eyes when she pulled his head up.)
She sleeps with Stefan that night; she lets him cover her neck with kisses and she cups his cheek after he enters her. There are touches, whispers and moans, but when Stefan closes his eyes, Elena sneaks her right hand under the covers.
She feels the delicate pressure of the fabric against her knuckles when she comes.
***
All right, so she has an affair.
Sometimes when Damon is not home, Elena sneaks into his room. She does it because she wants to do something daring, something exciting and provocative, but in the end she always chickens out before she does something truly shocking. So she doesn't go through his underwear drawer, doesn't steal a book from his nightstand or fall asleep on his bed, for him to find her. Nothing like that.
One day she almost puts on one of Damon's shirts just to experience the thrill of walking like that into the library and sitting right between the Salvatores. Of course she freaks out when she's in the middle of buttoning herself up, frantically throws the shirt back into the closet and runs away, but still. She thinks she deserves some points for effort.
The best she can do is to walk into Damon's bathroom, turn on the lights (how courageous of her) and spend long minutes staring at the mirror.
“I have an affair,” she tells her reflection.
(It's nice to be able to talk to someone from time to time.)
She looks at herself like she thinks Damon would: long glances full of questions and wonder (she can't really muster up the awe that sometimes shows on his face, so she goes with wonder instead). She hopes that maybe that way she'll be able to figure out what he sees in her when there's no reason for anyone to want her quite so much.
That's how Stefan finds her: staring at a mirror with her eyes wide open, her fingertips almost touching the glass as if it held some kind of an answer. A part of her wants him to yell at her, accuse and demand explanations (she has an affair, you see), but he just takes her hand and nods like he understood, so Elena remains silent.
“Let's go,” he says, and Elena doesn't object, but when he makes a step towards the door, Elena turs around, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him.
(Elena kisses like a fool.)
It's hungry and greedy, and she doesn't even care. She kneels down on the floor and pulls Stefan with her, desperately hoping he'd want her more than he doesn't want to have sex in his brother's bathroom. He hesitates first, but then he finally kisses her back, and Elena frantically swallows his moan, quickly, quickly, they need to be quick about this.
It's too late when Elena realizes that here she has no sheet she could wrap around her knuckles to hide the thoughts swirling around her head.
Suddenly the heat she feels between her legs has nothing to do with Stefan moving inside her hard and fast. They so could get caught now, but she could get caught even more, because her brain is about to explode with all the thoughts she shouldn't be having.
They show in her eyes, she knows they do.
Elena looks right at Stefan as she lets herself feel urgent lips moving down her neck and ragged breaths shaking against her body. She wants Stefan to see how much she wants, but he closes his eyes the way he so often does, lost in sensation.
(It may or may not have something to do with her.)
So Elena screams from the top of her lungs, and prays he doesn't try to kiss her, because someone else is kissing her right now, teeth and all. Someone is desperately swallowing her tongue, hips pushing against her body and hands holding on to her waist.
He's coming undone and she didn't even touch him, she didn't have to, because all he ever wanted was for her to see him.
When everything is done, Elena composes herself quickly; it helps that she can feel cold tiles against her back. Apparently they knocked over Damon's soap dish, how unfortunate. Elena quickly makes a joke about it, and Stefan laughs before he starts picking up the soap bars, all but one that Elena hides behind her back for no good reason.
(Like she needs a reason.)
When she gets up and looks at the mirror to smooth her hair, there's something haunted in her eyes.