Warning: this chapter contains rather explicit sex that should probably not be read by anyone. It is way too steamy and pleasantly erotic.
Chapter Six: Light me up when I'm down
Jenny was absolutely perfect.
She was smiling and bubbly and conversational and so... not like her usual grumpy self. Although Damon couldn't exactly say that he knew who she really was, seeing as their relationship revolved around secrets and one drunken night together. The cherry on the cake? Stefan and Caroline were so uncomfortable with it. Not Jenny (no, she was charming and vivacious and they took to her personality immediately), but rather the idea that a new human knew about vampires. Oh yes. They were extremely uncomfortable with it.
"So," Jenny said, taking a sip of her diet coke. "Damon tells me that you and Elena are engaged?"
Stefan blinked. "Uh. Yes, only recently. That was kind of the point of this trip, actually."
"Damon won't come," Caroline said plainly, casting a glare at the dark haired vampire across the table.
"I don't want to watch you ruin her life," Damon admitted flippantly. "Or end it."
He looked at Jenny briefly as understanding crossed her face. Of course, that was the one part of the situation he failed to include. The whole 'turning Elena' thing was still a sore spot. But she caught on, and turned to face Stefan with a concerned expression on her face.
"You're going to turn her?" she asked in a low voice.
Stefan ground his teeth together, which was a pleasant sight for Damon. He loved to watch Stefan squirm.
"Listen, I know you and Damon probably haven't discussed the possibility of, well, eternal companionship," Stefan replied, "but Elena and I think it's the right thing to do."
"We have," Jenny interjected suddenly. "Talked about it, I mean."
Damon frowned and looked at Jenny with an amused expression. What was she playing at? This wasn't in the handbook.
"You... you have?" Caroline cast a look at Damon.
"If we decide it's the right thing to do," Jenny began, looking at Damon with an expression he could only describe as sincerity, "we're going to wait until I'm twenty-one."
"Well," Stefan countered, without even properly registering the weight of Jenny's statement, "He's physically twenty-four. I'm seventeen, technically. Elena doesn't want to be older than me."
"Yeah," Caroline snorted. "When she hits the one hundred year mark, she might start to get self-conscious."
There was silence as Jenny daintily sipped her diet coke in an attempt to be casual.
"I think," Jenny began, "that it's a good idea."
Damon's glare hit her like ice down her dress. Cold, and shocking and ... wait. Arousing? God, she really needed to get over him, and quickly, otherwise she might jump him any minute.
"You do?" he asked incredulously, icily.
"It's not really my decision," Jenny stammered, trying to regain her grip after being dealt such a hefty glare. "But if they're married, then..."
"Elena has friends and family, despite the fact that those she's closest to support her. Eventually they'll realise she's not getting any older," Damon countered angrily. He turned to Stefan, "What are you going to do? Fake her death? That's the plan for Caroline, isn't it? So mommy dearest won't find out?"
Caroline blinked up at the ceiling, as if blinking back tears.
"I'm your entire fault, anyway," Caroline bit out. "I mean, God, regardless of Katherine, it was your blood that turned me, Damon. The way I am, the way my mom is, it is your fault."
Jenny suddenly felt like a much bigger story overlapped hers. She felt crushed by it. Maybe that was all she was – a footnote in Damon's un-life. Just a chapter in a much larger tale. Who was Katherine? And what exactly was his relationship with Elena? Jenny's eyes went wide as she realised: despite knowing the crucial factor about Damon (vampirism. Duh.) she knew nothing at all about him.
Her reverie was broken by her phone buzzing.
Gossip Girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite.
Spotted: Little J at Butter with Tall Dark and Handsome, sharing a plate of ravioli with some enticing new strangers. What is it with J and gorgeous, pale people? And why is the foursome whispering so much? J is many things, but subtle is not one of them. I'm sensing another guerrilla fashion show, circa 2008. Or something equally delicious. Whatever it is, I'll be there.
You know you love me,
xoxo Gossip Girl
Jenny groaned as she stared at her phone, ignoring the heated whispering between Caroline and Damon. She could hear fragments of "Katherine blahblah" and "Your fault blahblah", but despite everything, Gossip Girl was her biggest worry. Ha. She supposed that said something about her, didn't it? Sitting at a table with blood sucking monsters and she's more worried about an anonymous gossip mogul.
"Jenny, what do you think?" Damon asked suddenly, turning to her with fire in his bright blue eyes.
"W-what do I think about what?" she asked, tucking her phone under the table.
Damon's eyes followed her hands. "What are you looking at?"
"It's nothing, really," she insisted, quickly. But Damon was too quick. He had already snatched up her phone and was looking at it with definite interest.
"Gossip Girl?" he raised an eyebrow at her disbelievingly.
Stefan and Caroline were silent with interest, watching as Damon scrolled down the phone swiftly.
"Little J, Little J..." he read aloud. "You have a stalker."
"She's not a stalker," Jenny defended, snatching her phone back. "She's a gossip columnist."
"You're in a gossip column?" Caroline asked tersely. Jealous, much?
"It's a Manhattan thing. It's this anonymous girl who was a few years ahead of me at High School. She's super rich and everyone sends her tips and it's really quite ridiculous when I admit it out loud," Jenny babbled.
"Gossip," Stefan murmured. "You mean, like rumours?"
"She's trying to figure out what the mystery about my new friends is," Jenny admitted, flashing them a picture. It was taken from a few tables away. It was of all four of them, leaning in over the table, whispering.
"As if they'll guess," Caroline scoffed and sipped her red wine, rolling her dark eyes defiantly.
Yeah. As if.
"So, do you think we convinced them?" Jenny asked as they drove back to Damon's hotel. He could feel her heart beating around the back of the cab, but wasn't sure if it was adrenaline from lying so swiftly or nerves about going back to his place. He had no wicked intentions. None at all.
He simply thought she deserved an explanation, and he needed some blood.
"Of course we did," Damon replied breezily. "You're quick witted, I'll give you that much."
Jenny sighed a shaky breath of relief. "I thought I was going to crap my pants when the whole wedding thing came up."
And with that, all of her previous charm went out the window. Lovely.
"Yeah, well, if you hadn't agreed with Saint Stefan then maybe it wouldn't have had such an adverse affect on you," Damon shrugged, looking out the window as Manhattan flew past him in a blur of lights. City that never sleeps, indeed.
"So you're in love with Elena," Jenny muttered suddenly. "I get it. But that doesn't mean you should stop them from doing what they've got to do."
Damon whipped his head around so fast that it gave Jenny a shock.
"I am not in love with Elena."
He tried to sound as absolutely and positively sure of himself as possible. He wasn't. He wasn't. Not any more, anyway. Not that he ever was. No. Never.
"She is self-righteous and holier-than-thou and... and," Damon continued, "she and Stefan are perfect for each other."
"Yeah, I believe you said something like that before," Jenny said, a small smirk on her face. God. Was he really so flustered that she could make fun of him like this? Elena was a sore spot but not that much of a sore spot.
"You want to know the whole story?" Damon asked. "Top to bottom, back to front, and all that jazz?"
Jenny bit her lip and nodded, her eyes shining with genuine sincerity.
"It's a long one," he warned.
Jenny smiled. "I don't have any classes tomorrow. I've got time."
By the time Damon had finished the story, the sun had been up for three hours and Jenny had bags under her eyes the size of saucers. It had surprised her how the night had panned out. He invited her in, offered her a drink. She had sipped wine and he had sipped O Positive and he had sat her down and told her everything. From page one to one-hundred, from 1865 to present, from Katherine to Elena.
It was exhausting to just hear about it.
"Now you know everything about me," he finished with as he opened up the curtains and let a long stream of sunlight hit his face. Jenny stared at him as the light cast his visage in strange shadows, catching on his cheekbones and making his bright blue eyes sparkle. God, he was perfect, wasn't he?
Only he wasn't. She knew that now. He was far from it.
"Why even bother telling me?" she asked. "I'm just a pawn in your plan to get Elena back, anyway."
Damon turned to face her, his face etched with confusion.
"No, you're not," he looked away.
"But everything you've described to me," Jenny argued, her head spinning from lack of sleep and lack of nicotine and lack of caffeine, "it all points to you wanting Elena for yourself."
"You'd think so," Damon said softly. "But you'd be wrong."
"But you love her."
"I do," he admitted. "But I'm not in love with her. Not anymore. Being in love requires some form of reciprocal feelings. And she's one hundred and ten per cent Stefan's."
"Just like Katherine was," Jenny added.
"What are you, my shrink?" Damon smirked at her before sitting opposite her in the dining room.
Jenny ran a hand through her long, somewhat tangled blonde hair.
"I need a shower," she groaned.
"Help yourself," Damon nodded in the direction of the bathroom. Jenny got herself up and locked herself in. Damon's few toiletry items littered the basin and there was shampoo and conditioner in the shower. Jenny undressed and turned on the hot water, before taking a look at herself in the mirror.
Her concave hips were like twin peaks in her flesh, and she could see the soft outline of her rips under her pale skin. Jenny had always been thin, but this year it had taken a turn for emaciated. She needed a cheese burger. Maybe she'd ask Damon to call room service once she'd washed her hair...
Damon heard the shower turn off and Jenny dry herself off with a towel. Even through the door he could hear her wipe the condensation off of the mirror and sigh. She emerged, face raw and wet, hair up in a white towel, wrapped in one of the Plaza hotel's white bath robes.
Silently, Damon handed her a shirt to put on and turned away as she changed into it.
"I'm kinda starving," Jenny admitted to him. Damon turned back to face her. She was wearing nothing but the large black men's shirt, and was twisting her hair away from her slim, pale neck. Her lips were full and pouty with moisture, and her endlessly long legs stretched to the floor like twin pillars of marble.
Damon narrowed his eyes and her and bit his lip. "Me too."
Jenny barely had time to take a breath before Damon had lowered his mouth onto hers. She smelled of his body wash and shampoo, clean and hot and moist like humid mist. Jenny moaned into his mouth and placed her arms over Damon's shoulders for support as he lifted her to the bed. Her bare legs wrapped around him and he felt up her thigh slowly, caressing the taught flesh of her curved hips. Jenny bit his lip briefly and ran her hand through his hair, gripping tight as his hand found its way to her moist centre.
Jenny's gasps and moans as he played with her were delicious. She even whimpered at one point and muttered something that sounded like 'Please, please'.
Obliging her, Damon lifted his shirt off of her body and let her lay naked beneath him, her wet hair curling on the cushion underneath her. Damon removed his own shirt as Jenny undid his belt buckle and threw it to the side. He caught her staring at the V of his hips that pointed towards his engorged member, her mouth slightly agape.
He lowered his mouth onto hers once more, running one free hand down her body as he pulled down his pants with the other. His thumb brushed over her left nipple, back and forth, playing with it. It was puckered and erect as he lowered his head to swipe his tongue over it, eliciting a gasp from Jenny.
"Stop," she whimpered. "Stop playing. I want you."
That was all the direction he needed. Damon eased himself into Jenny's tight opening, groaning with pleasure at the action. Jenny's long leg was wrapped around his naked hip, and he propped her and to thrust in even deeper. Jenny grabbed his neck and pulled his mouth down to meet hers. He glided in and out of her slowly as their mouths battled one another for dominance. As he thrust, he placed one hand on her hip and the other on her pert breast, teasing it softly.
Had she been this tight the night they first had sex? Because she was really tight. He didn't remember her being this tight. Though, he didn't remember much at all.
The hand playing with her breast travelled down slowly and found the bud of nerves at her centre. Jenny gasped into his mouth as he brushed over it casually with his forefinger while maintaining a smooth rhythm of thrusts. She moaned into his ear, becoming breathless. That was one perk of being a vampire, Damon surmised. You never became too breathless to kiss during sex.
But the sounds of her breathing were just making him more aroused, and he could feel himself ready to blow. Not now, Damon chided himself. Not yet.
Damon lifted up Jenny's light frame and turned so she was on top. He was sitting up, though, so he could still thrust if she was too tired to ride him. But Jenny arched her back and met his thrusts with equal enthusiasm, whimpering and moaning and whispering sentences that made no sense.
"Fuck I... oh fu... mmm... Damon," she moaned in a low, breathy voice. Damon leant forward and captured her mouth again, roughly. While she was preoccupied with his tongue, his hand crept to her clit again and rubbed it firmly.
"Oh god," she gasped, pulling away. Her eyes met his, and he could see it – she was going to come.
"I'm coming," she urged him, riding him harder. He toyed with her pleasure bud with one hand, and with the other rubbed one erect nipple. He needed to get her to come before him – it was always something he simply had to do. It wasn't courtesy, it was a matter of pride. Knowing that you could send a woman to the endless planes of ecstasy without 'needing' anything in return was very ego boosting. Not that his ego needed boosting.
Jenny gasped and her tight walls clenched around him as her orgasm rocked her body. Damon couldn't hold it, and he came with her in an explosion of muttered expletives which Jenny muffled with her mouth against his in a long, deep kiss. Her hands ran firmly through his hair as she rode off the last of her climax. She broke away from him and looked him in the eye. The pleasure from the recent orgasm was still on her face, and she smiled broadly at him.
"Great," she said breathlessly, sarcastically. "Now I have to shower again."
Hey, Damon thought. He could always join her...