fic, the vampire diaries: coming around (Damon/Alaric), R
Title: coming around
Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: R
Words: 1045
Spoilers: set after 2x21 and before 2x22.
Warnings: there's drinking and hungover people.
Summary: the problem is that Alaric might have been drunk last evening, but not so drunk that he doesn’t remember what happened before he woke up naked in a bed with Damon Salvatore.
A/N: originally written for sandrine at the five acts exchange; the prompts were morning after, forgiveness and rough sex, though it's more of the former. Title stolen from Steve Earle.
Let’s get this out of the way first: Alaric doesn’t like Damon Salvatore.
Is that clear? Good, because he’s not going to say it again.
Okay, he will allow you to say that he doesn’t exactly dislike Damon, but it isn’t the same thing as liking him. If Damon suddenly has decided that Alaric is the perfect drinking buddy even if every time he shows up while Alaric is having his goddamn glass of whisky he’s never welcome, and if he doesn’t mind being punched two times on three when that happens, well, his business.
By the way, Alaric is going to cut the alcohol, a lot. Because considering what happened just now, it’s much better if he signs up for AA meetings the fuck now. If there’s even an AA centre in Mystic Falls.
Because he can’t just have woken up in the Salvatore house, in the bed Damon isn’t supposed to use because vampires don’t sleep, with the both of them fucking naked . And Damon smirking at him like he just proved a point he had been trying to prove for ages.
Also, the problem is that Alaric might have been drunk last evening, but not so drunk that he doesn’t remember what happened before he woke up naked in a bed with Damon Salvatore.
He remembers being at the Grill, and then Damon showing up as usual, and it was one of those times where he didn’t feel like punching the bastard (not when his wife just showed up and Elena’s uncle might be planning something Alaric doesn’t really like). So he hadn’t and instead of trying to snark back as soon as Damon started trying to get him riled up, he had bought him a glass of bourbon.
That had shut Damon up for a good five minutes, and it was more than Alaric had been hoping for.
From then things are kind of fuzzy, and Alaric doesn’t exactly recall how they went from there to rutting against each other in the alley behind the bar, but from that point he remembers everything. He remembers how strangely soft Damon’s mouth felt against his while they kissed, urgent and heated and fast. He remembers that he hadn’t felt Damon’s teeth near his skin once and then well, they probably walked back here. He didn’t drive and he doubts Damon brought his flashy car along.
The walk didn’t sober him up at all, otherwise he wouldn’t have fallen on the bed with Damon pushing him down and he wouldn’t have let him clutch so hard at his hips that now Alaric can see shadows of fingertips burned into his flesh. He thinks that as some point he had flipped them over and then it had happened at least another three times because Damon wasn’t really the one to let himself being pinned down without a struggle. And they had kissed again and again, still hard and messy and urgent and almost painful, but it had felt real as not many things had since his wife decided to become a vampire and left him there believing she was dead.
He remembers that it had felt hot like fire the second he gave a deep thrust and Damon had surged up against him, even if the bastard had kept on saying that he could be harder, was Alaric too much of a gentleman to just properly fuck him?
At one point Alaric had snapped and he had done that properly, slamming himself inside a body that should have been cold but right then had been burning up, with blue eyes smirking up at him until Damon’s pupils became blown and he stopped being a smartass for once. Alaric remembers the way Damon arched up, baring his neck, and he had thought this is some irony before thrusting up and down again. Then Damon’s hands had reached up and well, Alaric thinks he must have fingerprints there, too.
He remembers passing out just a short while after coming and collapsing over Damon, and at least the guy is a vampire and doesn’t need to breathe.
“Had a good night?” Damon asks, winking in that insufferable way of his, and Alaric thinks he might want to strangle him after all.
“Shut up. I have a headache,” he answers, and it’s true. His head is pounding and the sun filtering from the window is hurting his eyes. Damon doesn’t even blink. And he’s a vampire. This is fucking ridiculous.
“What a pity. I guess being a vampire has its perks, doesn’t it?” And he’s gloating as he says it. Alaric can hear it in his voice.
“Remind me why did I ever decide to stop trying to kill you,” Alaric retorts, because right now he’d really like to know that, and then he finds himself pinned against the bed, Damon’s body hovering over his, and damn, well, the smug bastard might deserve to die but he really looks too good not to want to kiss him right this moment.
“Oh, come on. You know you prefer me undead and kicking around rather than with a stake in my heart.”
“My ass,” Alaric answers, but his tone lacks the necessary venom. “I still don’t like you,” he adds, even if it sounds absolutely not convincing.
“Seems like I will just have to wait a bit for that. But I can be very…” Damon says, his hand going slowly downwards towards Alaric’s crotch, and damn, damn, he hadn’t realized that he had gotten harder since waking up. “… likeable.”
“You?” Alaric breathes in disbelief while Damon’s hand closes slowly around his cock.
“Me. Oh, you need to learn to like me, but if we both make an effort, I think we would get along splendidly. Wouldn’t we just?” Damon purrs next to his ear.
Alaric would really, really like to answer, but right now he isn’t being exactly coherent and the bastard does know how to jerk you off, and so he figures he’ll bury the hatchet for now.
He still doesn’t like Damon, by the way, but yeah, he can safely admit that he doesn’t dislike him anymore. From the way things look, he has already lost this one, but it doesn’t feel that bad after all.
End.
Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: R
Words: 1045
Spoilers: set after 2x21 and before 2x22.
Warnings: there's drinking and hungover people.
Summary: the problem is that Alaric might have been drunk last evening, but not so drunk that he doesn’t remember what happened before he woke up naked in a bed with Damon Salvatore.
A/N: originally written for sandrine at the five acts exchange; the prompts were morning after, forgiveness and rough sex, though it's more of the former. Title stolen from Steve Earle.
Let’s get this out of the way first: Alaric doesn’t like Damon Salvatore.
Is that clear? Good, because he’s not going to say it again.
Okay, he will allow you to say that he doesn’t exactly dislike Damon, but it isn’t the same thing as liking him. If Damon suddenly has decided that Alaric is the perfect drinking buddy even if every time he shows up while Alaric is having his goddamn glass of whisky he’s never welcome, and if he doesn’t mind being punched two times on three when that happens, well, his business.
By the way, Alaric is going to cut the alcohol, a lot. Because considering what happened just now, it’s much better if he signs up for AA meetings the fuck now. If there’s even an AA centre in Mystic Falls.
Because he can’t just have woken up in the Salvatore house, in the bed Damon isn’t supposed to use because vampires don’t sleep, with the both of them fucking naked . And Damon smirking at him like he just proved a point he had been trying to prove for ages.
Also, the problem is that Alaric might have been drunk last evening, but not so drunk that he doesn’t remember what happened before he woke up naked in a bed with Damon Salvatore.
He remembers being at the Grill, and then Damon showing up as usual, and it was one of those times where he didn’t feel like punching the bastard (not when his wife just showed up and Elena’s uncle might be planning something Alaric doesn’t really like). So he hadn’t and instead of trying to snark back as soon as Damon started trying to get him riled up, he had bought him a glass of bourbon.
That had shut Damon up for a good five minutes, and it was more than Alaric had been hoping for.
From then things are kind of fuzzy, and Alaric doesn’t exactly recall how they went from there to rutting against each other in the alley behind the bar, but from that point he remembers everything. He remembers how strangely soft Damon’s mouth felt against his while they kissed, urgent and heated and fast. He remembers that he hadn’t felt Damon’s teeth near his skin once and then well, they probably walked back here. He didn’t drive and he doubts Damon brought his flashy car along.
The walk didn’t sober him up at all, otherwise he wouldn’t have fallen on the bed with Damon pushing him down and he wouldn’t have let him clutch so hard at his hips that now Alaric can see shadows of fingertips burned into his flesh. He thinks that as some point he had flipped them over and then it had happened at least another three times because Damon wasn’t really the one to let himself being pinned down without a struggle. And they had kissed again and again, still hard and messy and urgent and almost painful, but it had felt real as not many things had since his wife decided to become a vampire and left him there believing she was dead.
He remembers that it had felt hot like fire the second he gave a deep thrust and Damon had surged up against him, even if the bastard had kept on saying that he could be harder, was Alaric too much of a gentleman to just properly fuck him?
At one point Alaric had snapped and he had done that properly, slamming himself inside a body that should have been cold but right then had been burning up, with blue eyes smirking up at him until Damon’s pupils became blown and he stopped being a smartass for once. Alaric remembers the way Damon arched up, baring his neck, and he had thought this is some irony before thrusting up and down again. Then Damon’s hands had reached up and well, Alaric thinks he must have fingerprints there, too.
He remembers passing out just a short while after coming and collapsing over Damon, and at least the guy is a vampire and doesn’t need to breathe.
“Had a good night?” Damon asks, winking in that insufferable way of his, and Alaric thinks he might want to strangle him after all.
“Shut up. I have a headache,” he answers, and it’s true. His head is pounding and the sun filtering from the window is hurting his eyes. Damon doesn’t even blink. And he’s a vampire. This is fucking ridiculous.
“What a pity. I guess being a vampire has its perks, doesn’t it?” And he’s gloating as he says it. Alaric can hear it in his voice.
“Remind me why did I ever decide to stop trying to kill you,” Alaric retorts, because right now he’d really like to know that, and then he finds himself pinned against the bed, Damon’s body hovering over his, and damn, well, the smug bastard might deserve to die but he really looks too good not to want to kiss him right this moment.
“Oh, come on. You know you prefer me undead and kicking around rather than with a stake in my heart.”
“My ass,” Alaric answers, but his tone lacks the necessary venom. “I still don’t like you,” he adds, even if it sounds absolutely not convincing.
“Seems like I will just have to wait a bit for that. But I can be very…” Damon says, his hand going slowly downwards towards Alaric’s crotch, and damn, damn, he hadn’t realized that he had gotten harder since waking up. “… likeable.”
“You?” Alaric breathes in disbelief while Damon’s hand closes slowly around his cock.
“Me. Oh, you need to learn to like me, but if we both make an effort, I think we would get along splendidly. Wouldn’t we just?” Damon purrs next to his ear.
Alaric would really, really like to answer, but right now he isn’t being exactly coherent and the bastard does know how to jerk you off, and so he figures he’ll bury the hatchet for now.
He still doesn’t like Damon, by the way, but yeah, he can safely admit that he doesn’t dislike him anymore. From the way things look, he has already lost this one, but it doesn’t feel that bad after all.
End.