Want (Damon/Elena)
Title: Want
Rating: NC17
Warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, power play. There might be some dubcon, but I really hope it doesn't come out that way.
For: Elena Gilbert Comment!Ficathon, Part 2; I’ll call you darling, hold you tight. We are / not traitors but the lights go out. prompted by fluffyfrolicker
Characters/Pairings: Damon/Elena
Wordcount: 1100
Summary: Damon and Elena deal with life by taking turns in being submissive in bed. For a given value of “bed”.
A/N: I don't know what this is, and I don't even want to know. If I hadn't promised Doris I'd post it, I so would've chickened out. Katie, thank you for hand-holding!
Want
(It starts more or less like this.)
Elena Gilbert locks his hips between her legs and touches his cheek just with one finger.
“I want you to let go now,” she commands as she thrusts up, and Damon, immobilized, loses it immediately.
He feels his entire body shudder as he comes, but doesn't hide his face in the crook of Elena's neck until she lets go of his cheek.
***
Damon can see Elena is tired.
His first instinct is to run away, run and hide, but it's not so easy. She can hear him from far away, turns around to face him, and Damon freezes.
“Why am I even here?” she asks. “It's wrong that I'm here.”
“It's wrong that I want to be here,” she doesn't say, loud and clear. Maybe he can help after all, just this once. It's not like he doesn't know what to do.
“Get up,” he tells her firmly, he owes her one after what she did for him.
(Her legs around his waist, and for one marvellous second the only thing he was thinking about was whether or not she'd break his spine.)
She gets off an armchair sits next to him on the couch, but he has her pinned under him in a blink, shoves his hand down her pants as he kisses her roughly. He tries to remember everything he knows about her, because she won't ask for anything today. The point is that she doesn't ask.
“I know you don't want me,” he lies, and she relaxes under his touch, pushes her hips up to meet his hand, it's all okay as long as she doesn't want him.
Damon gets straight to the point, Elena never was one to need much foreplay. She will be sore, would be sore, he corrects himself, if she were human, thinks Damon as he rubs her faster and faster. He puts his full weight on her, and they both pretend she can't get out. When she starts moaning, he bites her earlobe to give her an excuse to make a sound. Elena Gilbert doesn't feel guilty about things she doesn't want, it's been so easy to read her body once he understood that.
When she starts coming, Damon pulls at her hair and pushes her face down against the cushions so she doesn't have to look at him.
***
“Strip,” says Elena leisurely as they're finally sorting out Alaric's books and weapons. Damon blinks, not sure if he heard her correctly, they've been doing this for hours, and he's far from his best of moods.
“I'm bored. This is depressing. Strip,” she explains matter-of-factly.
Damon swallows hard. Before he can even make any conscious decision, his fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt. Suddenly his world shrinks, and all he can see is Elena, Elena spread comfortably on an armchair, Elena with her mouth half-open and her eyes focused on his hands, Elena sad and desperate.
“I had to decide whether or not I should kill him,” he offers, hoping she'd get it.
“All I could do was clear his locker,” she says, and that's how he knows he can let go.
He takes off his clothes under her gaze, slowly, so painfully slowly. He's not entirely sure if he's doing it right, but there's no sign of displeasure on Elena's face, so he keeps going, buttons, zippers and shoelaces. It's been a while since the last time he made such a fuss about getting naked.
(It's been a while, and it feels strange, at first, to not have any control over what will happen next.)
They end up on the floor, rough carpet scratching Damon's back. There are tears in Elena's eyes, but it's not his resposibility (nothing is his responsibility now), so he simply reaches to touch her face. Next thing he knows, he's inside her, her palms resting against on chest for balance, nails digging into his skin.
“I could make you do anything I want,” she says, mesmerized. “Anything at all.”
Damon doesn't answer, doesn't even nod, because she's so certain she doesn't wait for his confirmation. She starts moving above him, up and down, and she never stops talking. “I want to look at you when you fall apart,” she says, and he doesn't even care if she means it. “I want you to eat me out until I can't walk.” It takes her a few thrusts to get the angle the way she likes it, and just a few more to get him to scream her name as he comes, his world reduced to Elena, Elena's body and Elena's voice, her wants ringing in his ears.
He has her over his head within a sentence, and she's still chanting above him when he grabs her hips to pull her closer. He doesn't even smell himself on her, because she starts rocking against his face, desperate for control, and Damon ceases to exist. Her legs are right by his ears, blocking all the sounds, but he can still hear her loud and clear, she's all he can hear, and see, and smell. It seems that once she started, she can't stop talking, she screams through her own sobs and moans: “I want to fuck you on a table. I want you to tell me you love me. I want your fingers inside me.”
She breaks his nose when she collapses, shaking and boneless, and he doesn't even notice.
***
“This is too much,” says Elena the next time Klaus comes after Jeremy, the next time someone's life is at stake, the next time someone tries to save her (out of habit), the next time she watches someone die. Actually, she's been saying it a lot lately.
This time, she's sitting on Stefan's desk, her face hidden in her hands. Damon has no idea what's wrong, and he probably doesn't want to know, just like he never tells her what's wrong with him. It's not like talking actually solves anything.
“You can do it,” he says with a shrug. “You can do whatever you want.”
“Sometimes I just wish I could turn it all off,” says Elena quietly, and Damon wishes she meant her emotions.
(Now would be the time to say something important, something about choices, and strength, and courage, about owning who you are and what you want.)
“Spread your legs,” he says as he steps closer.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, power play. There might be some dubcon, but I really hope it doesn't come out that way.
For: Elena Gilbert Comment!Ficathon, Part 2; I’ll call you darling, hold you tight. We are / not traitors but the lights go out. prompted by fluffyfrolicker
Characters/Pairings: Damon/Elena
Wordcount: 1100
Summary: Damon and Elena deal with life by taking turns in being submissive in bed. For a given value of “bed”.
A/N: I don't know what this is, and I don't even want to know. If I hadn't promised Doris I'd post it, I so would've chickened out. Katie, thank you for hand-holding!
Want
(It starts more or less like this.)
Elena Gilbert locks his hips between her legs and touches his cheek just with one finger.
“I want you to let go now,” she commands as she thrusts up, and Damon, immobilized, loses it immediately.
He feels his entire body shudder as he comes, but doesn't hide his face in the crook of Elena's neck until she lets go of his cheek.
***
Damon can see Elena is tired.
His first instinct is to run away, run and hide, but it's not so easy. She can hear him from far away, turns around to face him, and Damon freezes.
“Why am I even here?” she asks. “It's wrong that I'm here.”
“It's wrong that I want to be here,” she doesn't say, loud and clear. Maybe he can help after all, just this once. It's not like he doesn't know what to do.
“Get up,” he tells her firmly, he owes her one after what she did for him.
(Her legs around his waist, and for one marvellous second the only thing he was thinking about was whether or not she'd break his spine.)
She gets off an armchair sits next to him on the couch, but he has her pinned under him in a blink, shoves his hand down her pants as he kisses her roughly. He tries to remember everything he knows about her, because she won't ask for anything today. The point is that she doesn't ask.
“I know you don't want me,” he lies, and she relaxes under his touch, pushes her hips up to meet his hand, it's all okay as long as she doesn't want him.
Damon gets straight to the point, Elena never was one to need much foreplay. She will be sore, would be sore, he corrects himself, if she were human, thinks Damon as he rubs her faster and faster. He puts his full weight on her, and they both pretend she can't get out. When she starts moaning, he bites her earlobe to give her an excuse to make a sound. Elena Gilbert doesn't feel guilty about things she doesn't want, it's been so easy to read her body once he understood that.
When she starts coming, Damon pulls at her hair and pushes her face down against the cushions so she doesn't have to look at him.
***
“Strip,” says Elena leisurely as they're finally sorting out Alaric's books and weapons. Damon blinks, not sure if he heard her correctly, they've been doing this for hours, and he's far from his best of moods.
“I'm bored. This is depressing. Strip,” she explains matter-of-factly.
Damon swallows hard. Before he can even make any conscious decision, his fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt. Suddenly his world shrinks, and all he can see is Elena, Elena spread comfortably on an armchair, Elena with her mouth half-open and her eyes focused on his hands, Elena sad and desperate.
“I had to decide whether or not I should kill him,” he offers, hoping she'd get it.
“All I could do was clear his locker,” she says, and that's how he knows he can let go.
He takes off his clothes under her gaze, slowly, so painfully slowly. He's not entirely sure if he's doing it right, but there's no sign of displeasure on Elena's face, so he keeps going, buttons, zippers and shoelaces. It's been a while since the last time he made such a fuss about getting naked.
(It's been a while, and it feels strange, at first, to not have any control over what will happen next.)
They end up on the floor, rough carpet scratching Damon's back. There are tears in Elena's eyes, but it's not his resposibility (nothing is his responsibility now), so he simply reaches to touch her face. Next thing he knows, he's inside her, her palms resting against on chest for balance, nails digging into his skin.
“I could make you do anything I want,” she says, mesmerized. “Anything at all.”
Damon doesn't answer, doesn't even nod, because she's so certain she doesn't wait for his confirmation. She starts moving above him, up and down, and she never stops talking. “I want to look at you when you fall apart,” she says, and he doesn't even care if she means it. “I want you to eat me out until I can't walk.” It takes her a few thrusts to get the angle the way she likes it, and just a few more to get him to scream her name as he comes, his world reduced to Elena, Elena's body and Elena's voice, her wants ringing in his ears.
He has her over his head within a sentence, and she's still chanting above him when he grabs her hips to pull her closer. He doesn't even smell himself on her, because she starts rocking against his face, desperate for control, and Damon ceases to exist. Her legs are right by his ears, blocking all the sounds, but he can still hear her loud and clear, she's all he can hear, and see, and smell. It seems that once she started, she can't stop talking, she screams through her own sobs and moans: “I want to fuck you on a table. I want you to tell me you love me. I want your fingers inside me.”
She breaks his nose when she collapses, shaking and boneless, and he doesn't even notice.
***
“This is too much,” says Elena the next time Klaus comes after Jeremy, the next time someone's life is at stake, the next time someone tries to save her (out of habit), the next time she watches someone die. Actually, she's been saying it a lot lately.
This time, she's sitting on Stefan's desk, her face hidden in her hands. Damon has no idea what's wrong, and he probably doesn't want to know, just like he never tells her what's wrong with him. It's not like talking actually solves anything.
“You can do it,” he says with a shrug. “You can do whatever you want.”
“Sometimes I just wish I could turn it all off,” says Elena quietly, and Damon wishes she meant her emotions.
(Now would be the time to say something important, something about choices, and strength, and courage, about owning who you are and what you want.)
“Spread your legs,” he says as he steps closer.