Forgetting (Damon/Elena)
Title: Forgetting
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Damon/Elena
Spoilers: 4x15
Wordcount: 500
Summary: Elena doesn't feel a thing. (Damon and Elena have sex after she “turns it off”. Elena's POV)
A/N: I don't even know what this is. An accidental ficlet happened last night when I was supposed to sleep. Apparently my life consists of accidental ficlets right now o_O.
Now, sadly, I have to go back to work :(.
Forgetting
Elena doesn't feel a thing.
She lets the feeling of not feeling fill her like a bliss; empty, cool and smooth, so smooth she can almost touch it. She doesn't remember her head ever being so clear, not clouded by conflict or doubt. There is nothing but thoughts, sharp and clear-cut, and Elena revels in her thoughts, lets them all in and plays with them all the way she wants.
She plays with Damon all the way she wants.
Oh, he hesitates at first, of course he does, the sentimental fool he is. But one look is enough to strip him off his fancy layers of dreams and delusions, strip him down to blood and bone and expose him completely.
“Don't pretend like you haven't done this before,” she says, and he takes off his shirt without questions.
(He doesn't ask what she means, because he knows she means everything.)
He feels hot beneath her, all the emotions buzzing beneath his skin like they were about to break it, so Elena does it for them. She sinks her teeth in Damon's neck without warning and feels his love flow into her mouth, tastes it on her tongue as her fingers pull at his belt.
Feelings are the best spectator sport she has ever known.
She flips them over after she takes him into her, pushes him above her to watch his sweaty forehead and trembling arms. He feels so full inside her, throbbing with blood and envy. He's jealous and she knows it, jealous of her empty eyes and her clear head, so he tries to pretend he doesn't feel anything either, he smooths his face and steadies his hands, fake it till you make it. When he thrusts into her, it's so hard and sudden her head hits the floor, and Elena laughs, how silly of him, really.
If he really didn't feel a thing, he'd be slow like the most tender of lovers.
Instead he grits his teeth and fucks her hard, ignores her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and her obvious amusement. Elena is surprised that she hasn't noticed this before, the false lines of his smirk and something haunted in the eyes that he's struggling to keep empty. Damon Salvatore is a fake, but Elena doesn't have time to dwell on it, because her body starts taking over. She lets it (she usually lets it these days), pushes up her hips to meet Damon's thrusts and slips a hand between them to rub herself quickly.
She isn't here to drag things out.
Damon lasts longer than she expected, but he still finishes before her, gets off with a sharp cry and freezes, determined to not collapse on her. Now is the time for him to say something hurtful, but he forgets, rolls off her and bites his lip, thinking she can't see it, but Elena looks at him mesmerized, her fingers ghosting over the blood on his neck.
She can only imagine how jealous he must be now.
(She isn't supposed to wipe a tear off his cheek, but she forgets.)
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Damon/Elena
Spoilers: 4x15
Wordcount: 500
Summary: Elena doesn't feel a thing. (Damon and Elena have sex after she “turns it off”. Elena's POV)
A/N: I don't even know what this is. An accidental ficlet happened last night when I was supposed to sleep. Apparently my life consists of accidental ficlets right now o_O.
Now, sadly, I have to go back to work :(.
Forgetting
Elena doesn't feel a thing.
She lets the feeling of not feeling fill her like a bliss; empty, cool and smooth, so smooth she can almost touch it. She doesn't remember her head ever being so clear, not clouded by conflict or doubt. There is nothing but thoughts, sharp and clear-cut, and Elena revels in her thoughts, lets them all in and plays with them all the way she wants.
She plays with Damon all the way she wants.
Oh, he hesitates at first, of course he does, the sentimental fool he is. But one look is enough to strip him off his fancy layers of dreams and delusions, strip him down to blood and bone and expose him completely.
“Don't pretend like you haven't done this before,” she says, and he takes off his shirt without questions.
(He doesn't ask what she means, because he knows she means everything.)
He feels hot beneath her, all the emotions buzzing beneath his skin like they were about to break it, so Elena does it for them. She sinks her teeth in Damon's neck without warning and feels his love flow into her mouth, tastes it on her tongue as her fingers pull at his belt.
Feelings are the best spectator sport she has ever known.
She flips them over after she takes him into her, pushes him above her to watch his sweaty forehead and trembling arms. He feels so full inside her, throbbing with blood and envy. He's jealous and she knows it, jealous of her empty eyes and her clear head, so he tries to pretend he doesn't feel anything either, he smooths his face and steadies his hands, fake it till you make it. When he thrusts into her, it's so hard and sudden her head hits the floor, and Elena laughs, how silly of him, really.
If he really didn't feel a thing, he'd be slow like the most tender of lovers.
Instead he grits his teeth and fucks her hard, ignores her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and her obvious amusement. Elena is surprised that she hasn't noticed this before, the false lines of his smirk and something haunted in the eyes that he's struggling to keep empty. Damon Salvatore is a fake, but Elena doesn't have time to dwell on it, because her body starts taking over. She lets it (she usually lets it these days), pushes up her hips to meet Damon's thrusts and slips a hand between them to rub herself quickly.
She isn't here to drag things out.
Damon lasts longer than she expected, but he still finishes before her, gets off with a sharp cry and freezes, determined to not collapse on her. Now is the time for him to say something hurtful, but he forgets, rolls off her and bites his lip, thinking she can't see it, but Elena looks at him mesmerized, her fingers ghosting over the blood on his neck.
She can only imagine how jealous he must be now.
(She isn't supposed to wipe a tear off his cheek, but she forgets.)