Fic: The Vampire Diaries - The World Doesn't Know (Damon/Stefan) NC-17
TITLE: The World Doesn't Know
FANDOM: The Vampire Diaries
PAIRING: Damon/Stefan
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 3294
SUMMARY: Damon's obsessions have always been unhealthy.
NOTES: Set loosely during the flashback time in Lost Girls, so spoilers for that episode. Unbetaed.
Katherine had been the most beautiful creature Damon'd ever laid eyes on. She was perfect; with porcelain skin, and a full lush mouth, and her waist, so small under his hands. She was not a good girl by any means; the things that came out of that mouth unlike any lady he'd ever met, and her eyes always glittered with mischief; those eyes that seemed to look into his soul.
The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, next to the one he couldn't allow himself to think about.
Stefan hadn't always been beautiful. In fact, when Damon had left for service, Stefan had been thin and gangly, with a face that didn't quite fit its features. A boy, he'd been just a boy. By the time Damon had returned home, Stefan had been almost unrecognisable. Not a boy any longer, he was now muscled in places he hadn't been before; his shoulders and back broad, tapering down to a lean waist. And his face? It seemed melodramatic to think of another man as breathtaking, but Damon couldn't think of another word for it.
Not just another man. His brother.
Damon spent so much time staring at Stefan; watching him walk and run and pour sweet tea, or lick cake crumbs from his lips, that he thought perhaps Stefan might turn around one time and tell him to quit staring. But he never did, and sometimes Stefan would hold his gaze, which just made it harder not to look.
It was much easier to pretend when Katherine was standing in front of him. When he had her to focus on instead of Stefan, Damon could pretend that his feelings toward his brother were innocent. Familial. That he didn't want to hold Stefan in place with one hand gripping his tie and the other in his hair and kiss him so hard he wouldn't be able to catch his breath.
If any of his unit had known what went on in that head of his, Damon would have been lynched on the spot.
They'd been playing on the lawn that Sunday, the three of them in the blazing hot sun, with fresh batches of Elizabeth's Julep being the only thing to cool them down. Stefan had excused himself for a few minutes to bother Elizabeth in the kitchen, and Katherine had walked over to Damon, her hips swaying slow and fluid.
"I've seen you, you know," she had whispered to him, warm breath against his ear.
Damon was more-than-slightly sunburned and even more tipsy as he stepped back, stammering, 'Wh. What?"
"I've seen you," she repeated, laughter in her voice like it was a game that no-one else knew about, "the way you look at him."
Damon's stomach fell to the floor, and he turned to look at her, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Don't worry, darling," she brushed her lips against his cheek, "I will keep your delightful little secret. Though you should know that he looks at you the same way. With want in his eyes. I can almost smell it on the two of you."
"I." Damon felt as if he couldn't speak. It was as if his tongue had turned to lead in his mouth. He'd seen Stefan look back at him of course, saw the way his brother worshipped him with adoration in his eyes. He'd never allowed himself to read more into it than that, because it would have been too easy to give in.
"Look at me, Damon," Katherine commanded, and Damon faced her. She placed one gloved hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes so intently that Damon felt as if he couldn't breathe.
"Do you dream of him? When you're lying next to your fellow soldiers at night, do you dream of your baby brother right there with you? Under you, aching, begging for you to touch him?"
Damon shook his head.
"You will." It sounded so final. Like it was another order.
He wanted to say that he couldn't. Couldn't even think of dreaming about it, that it was wrong and filthy and he was going to go to hell just for thinking it, that dreaming would make it real.
"It isn't wrong, you know," Katherine said, stroking his cheek, "remember what I said, Damon? Who needs rules? Rules are for people who spend far too much time worrying about the actions of others to take what they want. And you are not one of them; you're far too special for that. Let others make rules and feel guilt for things that are out of their control, my dear, to people like you and I it is a waste of our precious time."
Damon nodded. Katherine was always right after all.
* * *
That night, Damon dreamed of Stefan in his bed. His brother was spread out, naked, as Damon ran his fingers slow and possessive over every inch of Stefan's body.
"Fuck me," Stefan begged, "please, Damon. Make me yours."
Damon woke with one hand on his cock and the other grabbing handfuls of bedsheet, and when he came, biting through his lip, he imagined Stefan on his knees for Damon, begging him to come in his mouth.
* * *
The next day Katherine demanded they all have a picnic dinner on the lawn. They feasted on Southern Fried Chicken, beans fried in bacon fat and mashed potato with gravy followed by Mississippi Mud Pie with cream. Katherine sipped on wine with her meal, while Damon and Stefan both chose bourbon over ice.
By the time Damon had finished his meal, he'd also finished three tumblers and rather than focus on the drops of liquor on Stefan's lower lip, or how Katherine was leaning into his brother's space more and more, making his jaw clench out of jealous tension, he decided to take his leave of the two of them and fall into bed.
He stripped naked; it was scorchingly hot and anything including the bedsheets would have ensured an uncomfortable, sleepless night. He had barely shut his eyes for three seconds when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
"Damon? You awake?"
Stefan. Damon should have been strong. Should have just lay there, pretending to be asleep until his little brother gave up and left him alone.
But he didn't. Instead he pulled the sheet up so it covered his hips, and yelled out, "No, still awake, Stef. Come on in."
Stefan was still perfectly dressed, his tie still tied and his coat buttoned up. Likely that was all for Katherine, given even Stefan would normally have relaxed by now, at least removing his coat, especially given how sticky-hot the temperature was.
He threw himself on the bed, next to Damon.
"I don't mean to be rude, Stefan," Damon rubbed his chest absently, "but exactly what are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night?"
Stefan was close to him, inches away and Damon could smell the liquor on his breath, could feel the heat in the air between them. Stefan was far too close for his liking, and Damon could feel the hair on his arms prickle and rise.
"It's not the middle of the night," Stefan corrected, "it's barely ten o'clock. Since when do you go to bed before everyone else in the house? You're a notorious night owl."
Stefan was even closer now, leaning in, and Damon could feel hot breath on his face. It made his stomach pitch and roll, and he could feel his cock, his traitorous damn cock hardening. All he had to do was just grab Stefan, get one hand on his wrist and shove his hand down there, make him feel exactly what he was doing to Damon just by existing.
"Since I'm tired and drunk and there are certain things I don't need to see, that's when," Damon growled, and tried to push Stefan away, but Stefan stopped him, gripping Damon's hand tight.
"You want me."
It wasn't a question.
Damon wondered for a moment whether it was a dream. Whether he might be able to pinch himself and wake himself up from it. But he knew deep-down it wasn't.
"Jesus, Stefan." Damon stared in disbelief, stared right into his brother's eyes which looked determined and sure, and unlike Damon'd ever seen Stefan look in all his life. Damon's cock was so hard it was painful, and all he wanted to do was grab Stefan and show him, push him down on the bed and just rub against him until he came all over his brother's perfect skin.
"Tell me," Stefan begged, "tell me you want me."
It was too much, too hard to resist. Damon had never been virtuous, there were several women scattered over Virginia who could testify to that fact, and he'd been pushed to his limit.
There was no denying anything at that point, there was only Damon, straddling Stefan's hips and ripping off his tie, tearing his coat open so hard the buttons popped off and flew across the room.
"So immaculately dressed, Stefan," Damon growled as the two of them got Stefan out of his coat, leaving only his white shirt, suspenders and trousers. Stefan had already toed off his boots. "So perfect."
They kissed then, finally, Damon pulling on Stefan's hair to hold him in place. Stefan opened for him so beautifully, and Damon sucked on his brother's tongue as the two of them kissed with utter abandon.
"This," Damon hissed out, and grabbed Stefan's hand, rubbing it up and down the length of his cock, "this is how much I want you." He paused, groaned as Stefan's thumb swiped across the head of his cock, "God, Stefan, I want to. Fuck."
Now that it was out in the open, Damon couldn't take it back, didn't want to. He wanted to ruin Stefan, debauch him, pull his suspenders and trousers down and just take him, bent over Damon's desk with his clothes still partially on. He wanted to strip his brother down to nothing, and touch every inch of skin with his hands and mouth. Damon wanted to pull Stefan apart, just so he could put him back together again, and why not? Stefan was his. Always had been and always would be.
"Do it," Stefan moaned, "do whatever you want to me, Damon, I want you to."
"Whatever I want?" Damon grinned down at Stefan, "now you really shouldn't say things like that little brother, you'll get yourself into all sorts of trouble." He unfastened Stefan's trousers, drawing them down and off.
"For example,"Damon continued, "I've been wanting to do this for a very long time."
Damon lowered his head, and licked at the head of Stefan's cock, bitter and salty. Stefan cried out and thrust his hips forward, sharp and ungraceful. Damon laughed and gripped Stefan's hips in his hands, held him there, his thumbs running up and down the grooves.
"How long?" Stefan sounded like he did after he'd the two of them had been playing rugby. But that wasn't tiredness in his voice, and it connected with Damon, felt like electricity running through his veins. He could get used to his brother like this: strung-out and more than a little bit desperate. "How long have you?" Stefan tried to finish, but Damon licked him then, one long slow lick up the length of his cock, and all Stefan could do then was try and catch his breath.
Damon took Stefan's cock into this mouth completely, until his head was touching Stefan's belly. Stefan was hard and perfect in his mouth, and Damon couldn't get enough of the taste and smell of him. He'd done this before, to Justin, the blond stable boy before he left for duty, but it hadn't been like this where he'd felt drunk on it.
Stefan. Christ. Damon could remember when his brother hadn't even been able to tie his own shoelaces, and now this? Damon felt his belly turn over with guilt, but it wasn't enough to make him stop. He couldn't stop, not when every part of him wanted to do just that for every minute of his life, and damn the consequences.
If he was going to hell, it'd be worth it.
"Damon, tell me." Stefan breathed, his eyes boring into Damon's. "Tell me how long you've wanted this.”
"Too long," was all Damon said, before rolling onto his back. "Forever. Don't intend to wait any longer, either. Take off your clothes, Stefan. Now. Want to see."
Damon's voice sounded rough even to his own ears, but Stefan didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, his younger brother was jumping up, practically tearing the rest of his clothes off and straddling Damon's hips.
"Christ, you're perfect," Damon hissed as Stefan lowered himself down, brushing his lips against Damon's, "do you have any idea what I want to do to you, Stefan? Any idea at all?"
"Do it," Stefan said between gritted teeth, "fuck me."
Damon growled, sitting up and holding Stefan there, hands gripping his hair and kissing him hard; his tongue shoving inside Stefan's mouth and swallowing any other words that Damon almost couldn't stand to hear.
"Wherever did you learn to talk like that, little brother?" Damon mouthed along Stefan's jawline, teeth scraping the skin. "I'm sure all those very polite ladies who chase you all over town would be shocked to hear you begging like a common whore."
Damon grabbed Stefan by the hips, ignoring his brother's groan of protest and rolled the two of them over so Stefan was flat on his back.
Stefan tried to pull Damon down, to kiss him. Damon just laughed and pinned Stefan's wrists over his head, holding him there.
"Stop trying to control me," Stefan spat out. The two of them were really as strong as each other, but when Damon wanted something, he took it, and that applied right now to his little brother. Stefan had been driving him mad for years, making him want what he shouldn't have wanted, and this was going to play out his way.
"No," Damon half-laughed, holding Stefan's wrists tight, "you're mine. My brother. Mine to do whatever I like with. That's what you said, Stef, you gave me permission to do whatever I want to you. You don't get to take it back now."
Stefan groaned, rolled his hips, and Damon dropped his head to his brother's chest, tongue circling a nipple, "Like that, don't you? Knowing you're mine? What you wanted all along, wasn't it?"
"Christ, Damon, just."
"What?" Damon breathed against Stefan's chest, "what is it you want, Stefan? I don't think you've made it clear enough."
Damon loved this, watching Stefan squirm and struggle, desperate and wanting and unable to do anything about it except beg. This was always part of the game for Damon, the teasing, the toying. Of course it was usually women; silly, Virginia daddy's-girls who giggled and blushed, or one of the handful of men he had taken to his bed. It had never been someone he actually cared about.
This was far more than just a game, a power-play or the thrill of the chase. This was his brother, who had driven him crazy with want for what felt like a lifetime.
"Touch me," Stefan whimpered, "just fucking touch me, Damon."
"Such a mouth," Damon smirked, but he felt his gut twist hearing Stefan like that. So fucking beautiful in his desperation. "Don't move," he said, without heat, as he let Stefan's wrists go and walked over to the vanity, picking up the small decorative pot of oil, and came back to the bed. He kneeled above Stefan, staring at the sight that was his brother, naked and long-limbed and waiting for him.
"Are you afraid?" He asked, brushing Stefan's hair back from his face. Stefan swallowed hard and shook his head. Damon knew if he licked at Stefan's pulsepoint right now, it would be faster than it should be. If Damon was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was deathly afraid himself.
"I'm ready," Stefan whispered, "want this, Damon. Want you."
Damon coated his fingers in oil, and slid the first one in. So goddamn tight. Stefan winced a little, but Damon could tell from his face that he wasn't in pain, just discomfort, so he kept going, pushing in as far as he could go. He slowly, carefully, fucked him open, adding another finger, and another, until Damon had three fingers sliding into that tight, slippery heat. His cock twitched, and if it had been anyone else, Damon would've been sliding in by now, fucking as hard and fast as he could. But this wasn't just anyone, it was Stefan, and Damon wanted to make sure his first time would be unforgettable, and not for all the wrong reasons
Sliding in carefully, and going a bit deeper each time, Damon paused, taking the time to look down at his brother; eyes shut, mouth open and breathing deep. It made Damon's chest tight to look at Stefan, so beautifully uninhibited and unaware that he was being watched. He pulled out his fingers to the first knuckle, holding Stefan there, open, as Damon leaned forward and licked his way into Stefan's mouth.
Stefan moaned, and kissed back frantically, biting Damon's lip in the process. It drove Damon absolutely crazy, the heat of his brother's body, combined with the desperation in their kiss, and he pulled back slightly, running a thumb over Stefan's lower lip.
"You ready?" he asked, softly.
Stefan nodded, and Damon pulled his knees up and over Damon's shoulders. Slicked his cock with oil and pushed himself into the welcome heat of Stefan's body.
Damon could hear Stefan's sharp intake of breath, wanted to tell him to relax, that it would get better, but he was too busy forcing himself to go slow. Everything inside of him was screaming to fuck harder and faster, but he held himself still and waited until Stefan nodded, whispered, "it's okay, Damon, do it," under his breath.
Finally, after what had felt like hours, Damon was inside his brother; fully, completely and he started to move. His hips rolled back, pulling almost all the way out and he waited a few seconds before pushing all the way back in, steady and slow.
Stefan was making noises that were driving Damon crazy, little bitten-off moans and he started to move with Damon, rolling his hips forward when Damon's rolled back and it felt so good, moving together, fucking in unison. Damon dropped his head the next time he moved forward, kissed Stefan messy and open-mouthed and breathed, "touch yourself, Stef, wanna watch you come," into his brother's mouth.
Stefan started to fist his cock; slow, like he wanted it to last, but from the way he sped up after a mere three or four strokes, Damon knew his little brother wasn't going to last. Stefan's hips were thrusting harder, faster, and Damon could feel his own orgasm building, the feeling starting in the pit of his stomach.
He was so close, so incredibly close, and Stefan shut his eyes. Damon grabbed a handful of Stefan's hair and pulled.
"Don't shut your eyes," he panted, "wanna. God. Have to see you."
Stefan groaned and opened his eyes just in time to come mere seconds before his brother. Damon grabbed a hold of Stefan's hips and fucked him hard and fast, pounding his ass now, forgetting to be gentle, and when he came, he pushed in deep and pulsed inside his brother's ass for what felt like long, long minutes.
When he was finished, he pulled out slow and careful, muttering, "Sorry, little brother, got a bit carried away," under his breath. He could feel a giant stabbing pain in his chest, guilt, for letting it happen.
Stefan pulled Damon up his body, and kissed him, his hands on Damon's face, holding him there.
"Don't apologise, you idiot. I liked it."
Damon smirked. "Well of course you did. I'm amazing. Everybody says so."
They both laughed, and Damon forgot about the stabbing guilt for a little while. Tried to focus on what Katherine had said, that it was a waste of time when he could be taking what he wanted. She was right, and he'd never let it get in the way of what he wanted again.
FANDOM: The Vampire Diaries
PAIRING: Damon/Stefan
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 3294
SUMMARY: Damon's obsessions have always been unhealthy.
NOTES: Set loosely during the flashback time in Lost Girls, so spoilers for that episode. Unbetaed.
Katherine had been the most beautiful creature Damon'd ever laid eyes on. She was perfect; with porcelain skin, and a full lush mouth, and her waist, so small under his hands. She was not a good girl by any means; the things that came out of that mouth unlike any lady he'd ever met, and her eyes always glittered with mischief; those eyes that seemed to look into his soul.
The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, next to the one he couldn't allow himself to think about.
Stefan hadn't always been beautiful. In fact, when Damon had left for service, Stefan had been thin and gangly, with a face that didn't quite fit its features. A boy, he'd been just a boy. By the time Damon had returned home, Stefan had been almost unrecognisable. Not a boy any longer, he was now muscled in places he hadn't been before; his shoulders and back broad, tapering down to a lean waist. And his face? It seemed melodramatic to think of another man as breathtaking, but Damon couldn't think of another word for it.
Not just another man. His brother.
Damon spent so much time staring at Stefan; watching him walk and run and pour sweet tea, or lick cake crumbs from his lips, that he thought perhaps Stefan might turn around one time and tell him to quit staring. But he never did, and sometimes Stefan would hold his gaze, which just made it harder not to look.
It was much easier to pretend when Katherine was standing in front of him. When he had her to focus on instead of Stefan, Damon could pretend that his feelings toward his brother were innocent. Familial. That he didn't want to hold Stefan in place with one hand gripping his tie and the other in his hair and kiss him so hard he wouldn't be able to catch his breath.
If any of his unit had known what went on in that head of his, Damon would have been lynched on the spot.
They'd been playing on the lawn that Sunday, the three of them in the blazing hot sun, with fresh batches of Elizabeth's Julep being the only thing to cool them down. Stefan had excused himself for a few minutes to bother Elizabeth in the kitchen, and Katherine had walked over to Damon, her hips swaying slow and fluid.
"I've seen you, you know," she had whispered to him, warm breath against his ear.
Damon was more-than-slightly sunburned and even more tipsy as he stepped back, stammering, 'Wh. What?"
"I've seen you," she repeated, laughter in her voice like it was a game that no-one else knew about, "the way you look at him."
Damon's stomach fell to the floor, and he turned to look at her, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Don't worry, darling," she brushed her lips against his cheek, "I will keep your delightful little secret. Though you should know that he looks at you the same way. With want in his eyes. I can almost smell it on the two of you."
"I." Damon felt as if he couldn't speak. It was as if his tongue had turned to lead in his mouth. He'd seen Stefan look back at him of course, saw the way his brother worshipped him with adoration in his eyes. He'd never allowed himself to read more into it than that, because it would have been too easy to give in.
"Look at me, Damon," Katherine commanded, and Damon faced her. She placed one gloved hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes so intently that Damon felt as if he couldn't breathe.
"Do you dream of him? When you're lying next to your fellow soldiers at night, do you dream of your baby brother right there with you? Under you, aching, begging for you to touch him?"
Damon shook his head.
"You will." It sounded so final. Like it was another order.
He wanted to say that he couldn't. Couldn't even think of dreaming about it, that it was wrong and filthy and he was going to go to hell just for thinking it, that dreaming would make it real.
"It isn't wrong, you know," Katherine said, stroking his cheek, "remember what I said, Damon? Who needs rules? Rules are for people who spend far too much time worrying about the actions of others to take what they want. And you are not one of them; you're far too special for that. Let others make rules and feel guilt for things that are out of their control, my dear, to people like you and I it is a waste of our precious time."
Damon nodded. Katherine was always right after all.
* * *
That night, Damon dreamed of Stefan in his bed. His brother was spread out, naked, as Damon ran his fingers slow and possessive over every inch of Stefan's body.
"Fuck me," Stefan begged, "please, Damon. Make me yours."
Damon woke with one hand on his cock and the other grabbing handfuls of bedsheet, and when he came, biting through his lip, he imagined Stefan on his knees for Damon, begging him to come in his mouth.
* * *
The next day Katherine demanded they all have a picnic dinner on the lawn. They feasted on Southern Fried Chicken, beans fried in bacon fat and mashed potato with gravy followed by Mississippi Mud Pie with cream. Katherine sipped on wine with her meal, while Damon and Stefan both chose bourbon over ice.
By the time Damon had finished his meal, he'd also finished three tumblers and rather than focus on the drops of liquor on Stefan's lower lip, or how Katherine was leaning into his brother's space more and more, making his jaw clench out of jealous tension, he decided to take his leave of the two of them and fall into bed.
He stripped naked; it was scorchingly hot and anything including the bedsheets would have ensured an uncomfortable, sleepless night. He had barely shut his eyes for three seconds when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
"Damon? You awake?"
Stefan. Damon should have been strong. Should have just lay there, pretending to be asleep until his little brother gave up and left him alone.
But he didn't. Instead he pulled the sheet up so it covered his hips, and yelled out, "No, still awake, Stef. Come on in."
Stefan was still perfectly dressed, his tie still tied and his coat buttoned up. Likely that was all for Katherine, given even Stefan would normally have relaxed by now, at least removing his coat, especially given how sticky-hot the temperature was.
He threw himself on the bed, next to Damon.
"I don't mean to be rude, Stefan," Damon rubbed his chest absently, "but exactly what are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night?"
Stefan was close to him, inches away and Damon could smell the liquor on his breath, could feel the heat in the air between them. Stefan was far too close for his liking, and Damon could feel the hair on his arms prickle and rise.
"It's not the middle of the night," Stefan corrected, "it's barely ten o'clock. Since when do you go to bed before everyone else in the house? You're a notorious night owl."
Stefan was even closer now, leaning in, and Damon could feel hot breath on his face. It made his stomach pitch and roll, and he could feel his cock, his traitorous damn cock hardening. All he had to do was just grab Stefan, get one hand on his wrist and shove his hand down there, make him feel exactly what he was doing to Damon just by existing.
"Since I'm tired and drunk and there are certain things I don't need to see, that's when," Damon growled, and tried to push Stefan away, but Stefan stopped him, gripping Damon's hand tight.
"You want me."
It wasn't a question.
Damon wondered for a moment whether it was a dream. Whether he might be able to pinch himself and wake himself up from it. But he knew deep-down it wasn't.
"Jesus, Stefan." Damon stared in disbelief, stared right into his brother's eyes which looked determined and sure, and unlike Damon'd ever seen Stefan look in all his life. Damon's cock was so hard it was painful, and all he wanted to do was grab Stefan and show him, push him down on the bed and just rub against him until he came all over his brother's perfect skin.
"Tell me," Stefan begged, "tell me you want me."
It was too much, too hard to resist. Damon had never been virtuous, there were several women scattered over Virginia who could testify to that fact, and he'd been pushed to his limit.
There was no denying anything at that point, there was only Damon, straddling Stefan's hips and ripping off his tie, tearing his coat open so hard the buttons popped off and flew across the room.
"So immaculately dressed, Stefan," Damon growled as the two of them got Stefan out of his coat, leaving only his white shirt, suspenders and trousers. Stefan had already toed off his boots. "So perfect."
They kissed then, finally, Damon pulling on Stefan's hair to hold him in place. Stefan opened for him so beautifully, and Damon sucked on his brother's tongue as the two of them kissed with utter abandon.
"This," Damon hissed out, and grabbed Stefan's hand, rubbing it up and down the length of his cock, "this is how much I want you." He paused, groaned as Stefan's thumb swiped across the head of his cock, "God, Stefan, I want to. Fuck."
Now that it was out in the open, Damon couldn't take it back, didn't want to. He wanted to ruin Stefan, debauch him, pull his suspenders and trousers down and just take him, bent over Damon's desk with his clothes still partially on. He wanted to strip his brother down to nothing, and touch every inch of skin with his hands and mouth. Damon wanted to pull Stefan apart, just so he could put him back together again, and why not? Stefan was his. Always had been and always would be.
"Do it," Stefan moaned, "do whatever you want to me, Damon, I want you to."
"Whatever I want?" Damon grinned down at Stefan, "now you really shouldn't say things like that little brother, you'll get yourself into all sorts of trouble." He unfastened Stefan's trousers, drawing them down and off.
"For example,"Damon continued, "I've been wanting to do this for a very long time."
Damon lowered his head, and licked at the head of Stefan's cock, bitter and salty. Stefan cried out and thrust his hips forward, sharp and ungraceful. Damon laughed and gripped Stefan's hips in his hands, held him there, his thumbs running up and down the grooves.
"How long?" Stefan sounded like he did after he'd the two of them had been playing rugby. But that wasn't tiredness in his voice, and it connected with Damon, felt like electricity running through his veins. He could get used to his brother like this: strung-out and more than a little bit desperate. "How long have you?" Stefan tried to finish, but Damon licked him then, one long slow lick up the length of his cock, and all Stefan could do then was try and catch his breath.
Damon took Stefan's cock into this mouth completely, until his head was touching Stefan's belly. Stefan was hard and perfect in his mouth, and Damon couldn't get enough of the taste and smell of him. He'd done this before, to Justin, the blond stable boy before he left for duty, but it hadn't been like this where he'd felt drunk on it.
Stefan. Christ. Damon could remember when his brother hadn't even been able to tie his own shoelaces, and now this? Damon felt his belly turn over with guilt, but it wasn't enough to make him stop. He couldn't stop, not when every part of him wanted to do just that for every minute of his life, and damn the consequences.
If he was going to hell, it'd be worth it.
"Damon, tell me." Stefan breathed, his eyes boring into Damon's. "Tell me how long you've wanted this.”
"Too long," was all Damon said, before rolling onto his back. "Forever. Don't intend to wait any longer, either. Take off your clothes, Stefan. Now. Want to see."
Damon's voice sounded rough even to his own ears, but Stefan didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, his younger brother was jumping up, practically tearing the rest of his clothes off and straddling Damon's hips.
"Christ, you're perfect," Damon hissed as Stefan lowered himself down, brushing his lips against Damon's, "do you have any idea what I want to do to you, Stefan? Any idea at all?"
"Do it," Stefan said between gritted teeth, "fuck me."
Damon growled, sitting up and holding Stefan there, hands gripping his hair and kissing him hard; his tongue shoving inside Stefan's mouth and swallowing any other words that Damon almost couldn't stand to hear.
"Wherever did you learn to talk like that, little brother?" Damon mouthed along Stefan's jawline, teeth scraping the skin. "I'm sure all those very polite ladies who chase you all over town would be shocked to hear you begging like a common whore."
Damon grabbed Stefan by the hips, ignoring his brother's groan of protest and rolled the two of them over so Stefan was flat on his back.
Stefan tried to pull Damon down, to kiss him. Damon just laughed and pinned Stefan's wrists over his head, holding him there.
"Stop trying to control me," Stefan spat out. The two of them were really as strong as each other, but when Damon wanted something, he took it, and that applied right now to his little brother. Stefan had been driving him mad for years, making him want what he shouldn't have wanted, and this was going to play out his way.
"No," Damon half-laughed, holding Stefan's wrists tight, "you're mine. My brother. Mine to do whatever I like with. That's what you said, Stef, you gave me permission to do whatever I want to you. You don't get to take it back now."
Stefan groaned, rolled his hips, and Damon dropped his head to his brother's chest, tongue circling a nipple, "Like that, don't you? Knowing you're mine? What you wanted all along, wasn't it?"
"Christ, Damon, just."
"What?" Damon breathed against Stefan's chest, "what is it you want, Stefan? I don't think you've made it clear enough."
Damon loved this, watching Stefan squirm and struggle, desperate and wanting and unable to do anything about it except beg. This was always part of the game for Damon, the teasing, the toying. Of course it was usually women; silly, Virginia daddy's-girls who giggled and blushed, or one of the handful of men he had taken to his bed. It had never been someone he actually cared about.
This was far more than just a game, a power-play or the thrill of the chase. This was his brother, who had driven him crazy with want for what felt like a lifetime.
"Touch me," Stefan whimpered, "just fucking touch me, Damon."
"Such a mouth," Damon smirked, but he felt his gut twist hearing Stefan like that. So fucking beautiful in his desperation. "Don't move," he said, without heat, as he let Stefan's wrists go and walked over to the vanity, picking up the small decorative pot of oil, and came back to the bed. He kneeled above Stefan, staring at the sight that was his brother, naked and long-limbed and waiting for him.
"Are you afraid?" He asked, brushing Stefan's hair back from his face. Stefan swallowed hard and shook his head. Damon knew if he licked at Stefan's pulsepoint right now, it would be faster than it should be. If Damon was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was deathly afraid himself.
"I'm ready," Stefan whispered, "want this, Damon. Want you."
Damon coated his fingers in oil, and slid the first one in. So goddamn tight. Stefan winced a little, but Damon could tell from his face that he wasn't in pain, just discomfort, so he kept going, pushing in as far as he could go. He slowly, carefully, fucked him open, adding another finger, and another, until Damon had three fingers sliding into that tight, slippery heat. His cock twitched, and if it had been anyone else, Damon would've been sliding in by now, fucking as hard and fast as he could. But this wasn't just anyone, it was Stefan, and Damon wanted to make sure his first time would be unforgettable, and not for all the wrong reasons
Sliding in carefully, and going a bit deeper each time, Damon paused, taking the time to look down at his brother; eyes shut, mouth open and breathing deep. It made Damon's chest tight to look at Stefan, so beautifully uninhibited and unaware that he was being watched. He pulled out his fingers to the first knuckle, holding Stefan there, open, as Damon leaned forward and licked his way into Stefan's mouth.
Stefan moaned, and kissed back frantically, biting Damon's lip in the process. It drove Damon absolutely crazy, the heat of his brother's body, combined with the desperation in their kiss, and he pulled back slightly, running a thumb over Stefan's lower lip.
"You ready?" he asked, softly.
Stefan nodded, and Damon pulled his knees up and over Damon's shoulders. Slicked his cock with oil and pushed himself into the welcome heat of Stefan's body.
Damon could hear Stefan's sharp intake of breath, wanted to tell him to relax, that it would get better, but he was too busy forcing himself to go slow. Everything inside of him was screaming to fuck harder and faster, but he held himself still and waited until Stefan nodded, whispered, "it's okay, Damon, do it," under his breath.
Finally, after what had felt like hours, Damon was inside his brother; fully, completely and he started to move. His hips rolled back, pulling almost all the way out and he waited a few seconds before pushing all the way back in, steady and slow.
Stefan was making noises that were driving Damon crazy, little bitten-off moans and he started to move with Damon, rolling his hips forward when Damon's rolled back and it felt so good, moving together, fucking in unison. Damon dropped his head the next time he moved forward, kissed Stefan messy and open-mouthed and breathed, "touch yourself, Stef, wanna watch you come," into his brother's mouth.
Stefan started to fist his cock; slow, like he wanted it to last, but from the way he sped up after a mere three or four strokes, Damon knew his little brother wasn't going to last. Stefan's hips were thrusting harder, faster, and Damon could feel his own orgasm building, the feeling starting in the pit of his stomach.
He was so close, so incredibly close, and Stefan shut his eyes. Damon grabbed a handful of Stefan's hair and pulled.
"Don't shut your eyes," he panted, "wanna. God. Have to see you."
Stefan groaned and opened his eyes just in time to come mere seconds before his brother. Damon grabbed a hold of Stefan's hips and fucked him hard and fast, pounding his ass now, forgetting to be gentle, and when he came, he pushed in deep and pulsed inside his brother's ass for what felt like long, long minutes.
When he was finished, he pulled out slow and careful, muttering, "Sorry, little brother, got a bit carried away," under his breath. He could feel a giant stabbing pain in his chest, guilt, for letting it happen.
Stefan pulled Damon up his body, and kissed him, his hands on Damon's face, holding him there.
"Don't apologise, you idiot. I liked it."
Damon smirked. "Well of course you did. I'm amazing. Everybody says so."
They both laughed, and Damon forgot about the stabbing guilt for a little while. Tried to focus on what Katherine had said, that it was a waste of time when he could be taking what he wanted. She was right, and he'd never let it get in the way of what he wanted again.