Title: Fire and Ice.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just using them for my own perverted sense of fun.
Feed back: Sure thing! Feedback is always helpful.
Summary: Don't provoke the devil with blue eyes - he bites.
Authors note: This was written for needtakehave, after she bid on me and won, in the Queensland Flood Relief Author's Auction. She requested Damon/Elena, and angry sex. This is set directly after 2x10 - The Sacrifice. Hon, I hope I've done you justice.
Suggested Listening - Winter: Lux Aeterna ~ Clint Mansell, Requiem for a Dream Soundtrack or Omega ~ Gates of Winter.
The flames that flickered in the fireplace threw light and shadow across the room. It caused the crystal on the hearth to sparkle, crystal that had shattered, after he'd thrown his tumbler of scotch in a violent display of temper. His temper, and the path of destruction that led to where she laid, was a trail of overturned tables, open books falling in such a way that she knew the fragile pages would be damaged, and antique knick knacks being kicked clear across the room. The heavy leather couch had been shifted a full foot after he'd shoved it out of his way, and it added to the shadows that were cast over the room. Elena took a testing breath under the full weight of him, and heard him hiss softly when her breath ghosted over his shoulder during her exhale.
The fire added deceiving warmth to his skin; skin that she could feel pressed all along her body. Her hair was still tangled around his fingers, from where he had used the long strands to wrench her head back. It had hurt, almost as much as the feeling of his teeth sinking into the curve of her throat had. Everything had sharpened in that moment - she was hyperaware of the hairs on his legs, and when he shifted, she quivered at the feeling of them scraping along her inner thighs. His answering chuckle sent a wave of cool breath across her breasts, and she shuddered in response. His hair - that soft, black hair - fell across his forehead when he lifted his head, and Elena saw that although the fire added warmth to his skin, it never touched the ice of his eyes.
Her lips parted on a silent cry as he withdrew from her body. The overload of sensation was too much, and she closed her eyes and let it all fade to black. Damon swept his hair back over his head and stretched as he knelt up, before he looked down at the girl who was sprawled beneath him. Her eyes were closed, her lashes a dark smudge against smooth cheeks. Her lips parted, and her pulse danced under her skin as quickly as that of a baby bird. The fire played over her skin, highlighting the honey tones, and shadowing curves that he'd never thought he'd see, let alone touch. He tilted his head as he studied her, before reaching out and skimming the back of his finger across her jaw and down her throat.
A flicker of guilt darkened his eyes as he traced the puncture marks in her throat, before that emotion fled. Her blood had been rich on his tongue, but he hadn't taken much. Enough to taste, to bind, to heighten what they were feeling. She'd scored her nails down his back in that moment and the pain, coupled with her heat and her taste, had had him striving to remind her who she was laying under. Who it was sending shock waves through her, and when she'd shattered, it had been his name she'd cried out. He flicked a glance around what remained of the lounge room, and shrugged carelessly. His shirt hung from the leg of a table, and Damon stood up with the ease of grace that being a vampire brought with it. His pants were still around his knees, and he drew them up his thighs slowly.
He spotted Elena's shirt in front of the fire, and as he turned slightly, the hem of her jeans caught his attention from just under the couch. He shrugged and bent down to pick her up. She weighed less than nothing, her hair slithering down across his arm and side like silk as he turned and headed for the stairs. Her skin reacted when he laid her in his bed, the coolness of the silk sheets raising goose flesh on her skin. Shedding his pants, he laid down beside her, and lazily skimmed his fingers across her breast. She murmured something too soft for even his keen hearing, her thigh smooth beneath his hand when he skimmed it. And there, warm and damp, was his favorite place to be.
"I don't want to be saved. Not if it means Klaus is gonna kill every person I love."
Her voice echoed in the silence of the room, and Damon tilted his head again as he continued to study her. Did she include him in that passionate yet foolish statement? Maybe she did. She wouldn't be here, be here with him like this, if she didn't. Twice he'd had to save her today. Twice she'd struck out at him. He'd warned her not to raise her hand to him again. He'd warned her twice. And when she'd stormed into the house earlier, she'd come with both guns blazing, so to speak. He'd warned her again then, not to push him. But push him, she had. And even after his temper had exploded, she'd stood her ground, quivering with answering anger and indignation. Blaming him for Stefan's current predicament, as well as Katherine's return. And when he'd turned it back on her, she'd struck out at him.
Damon tested the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. He'd allowed her to land that particular blow. and when he'd reached for her, Elena had realized her mistake in the self satisfied smirk that had twisted his face, and she'd backed away. Never tempt a predator. She'd learned that lesson a little too late. Her blood had been thundering through her veins when he grew tired of the game, and he'd had vaulted the couch and landed in front of her. Her arms would be bruised where he'd gripped them, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He'd held her there, for a dozen or so heart beats, before he'd kissed her. She'd put up an answering half-hearted struggle for another dozen heart beats, before she twisted her hands into his hair, and arched up into him.
She'd been his brother's lover, so she knew what being with a vampire entailed. But she'd never been his lover, and the shock of it had shown on her face. His brother had obviously been a gentle lover, inducting her into the carnal art carefully, while holding back his true nature. Damon knew better. Elena was passion and fire, and while shocked, she had met him kiss for touch for thrust, and when his eyes had changed, when the darker side of his nature appeared, she'd kissed him until the need to truly taste her had been too much, and he'd pulled her head back and bitten her. She'd orgasmed the hardest then, her nails scorning his back and then falling limply to the floor as he'd taken his full pleasure in her.
Her innocence had been delicious. It would be a fucking delicacy when that innocence became a need bigger than she knew how to handle. A need for him. He'd make sure of it. Bending his head, he nipped gently at her pebbled nipple, before sucking it deeper into his mouth. Her heart beat was beginning to thud again, and when he slid two fingers deep, and twisted his wrist to play his thumb over her clit, Elena mumbled his name. It was angels singing in heaven to hear it fall that way from her lips, and he knew it was a sound, that he'd never tire of hearing. But there was another sound he wanted more, and a small smile curved his lips as he rolled Elena onto her stomach. She shifted under his touch when he bent his head and licked a line between her shoulder blades. But when he tilted his head and blew across the line of dampness he had left behind, she shuddered violently.
Her eyes were barely open when he kissed her. The answering movement of her lips under his were sluggish, her moan soft with compliancy when he shifted her, shifted over her. She moved slightly against the teasing thrust of his hips, and then arched up against him when he spread her thighs with his knees, and sank into her again. Elena buried her face in the pillow as Damon pulled back slightly, and then thrust forward again. He bottomed out on his third heavy thrust, and settled his weight over her. He could feel the curve of her ass pressed against the muscles in his lower stomach, and shifting, he skimmed his hands along her arms to her hands. Lacing his fingers through hers, he buried his face in her hair, and began to thrust again. Long, slow thrusts, that dragged every inch of him out, and ignited nerves as he sank slowly back into her.
How a man could speak like that, like his voice was pure sex was beyond her. She felt him release her left hand, and skim his fingers beneath her shoulder and the silk sheets to her throat. His fingers were calloused, and when they tightened lightly around her throat, she wondered for one wild moment, if he planned on choking her while having sex with her. But then his hand shifted to the curve of her jaw, gently guiding her face up from the pillow, and tilting her head so that she could see what he did. The heavy, ornate mirror beside his bed was turned towards her, leaving her no choice but to recognize who was currently making love to her. She could see everything. From her tousled hair, to the curve of her breasts. The pale gleam of his skin, and the play of muscle in his shoulders and arms as he slowly thrust against her.
If what had happened between them in the lounge room had been violent, then this was the complete antithesis of it. Slow, languid movements, that let her feel every inch of him. The slow drag out, followed by the deep twist of his hips when he sank back into her. The gushing of his breath over her heated skin, and the pleasure that was racing across her face in crystal clarity. His knees kept her thighs open for him, and he knelt up slightly, and ran his free hand over the curve of her ass. Damon squeezed once, and when her eyes jerked to meet his in the mirror, he dipped his finger between the cheeks of her ass, and pressed gently.
"Did Stefan ever fuck you here?" he asked silkily, and Elena closed her eyes as she blushed.
He breathed it into her ear, Elena jerking under him.
It was a plea he ignored as he kneaded the firm curve of her ass for a minute.
"That'd be a no," he said dryly, and licked the shell of her ear as he settled his weight back over her again. "Don't worry, Elena. I'll be gentle when I do."
Her breath hitched, and Damon laughed softly. That was the noise he'd wanted to hear, and when he thrust next, it caused her breath to hitch again at the sudden strength behind it. The following thrust had her gripping the sheets, and Damon hissed softly as he shifted to kneel. His fingers dug into her hips as he dragged her to her knees, and when his movements grew strong and quick, Elena cried out and dropped her upper body back to the bed. For several long minutes, the sound of skin meeting skin drowned out all other noise. But he had lived for too long and was far too skilled in this, and he watched with dark delight as her orgasm rolled down her spine and tightened her around him.
He gentled the movements of his hips again, and reaching forward, he brushed her hair out of her eyes. When she met his gaze, his lips twitched, and he leaned forward and scooped her up so that her back was plastered against his chest. With her head lolling against his shoulder, Damon stilled all movement, until her eyes opened. Her eyes met his in the mirror, and when he gave a gentle up thrust, her eyes snapped to where he wanted them. So fucking innocent, he thought, as her cheeks reddened at the sight of his cock repeatedly sinking into her clenching pussy. But when she went to look away, he cupped her jaw again, and returned her eyes to the mirror.
"Fucking beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered.
She never answered him, and Damon laughed as he licked the frantic beat of her pulse.
"You don't have to say it, Elena. Your body tells me the truth," he murmured. "I always knew it would be like this with us."
"You just want Katherine," she said bitterly, and Damon still behind her.
When he remained still, Elena met his eyes in the mirror. Damon's mouth twisted, and he ran his hand down her body, where he toyed with her clit. She squirmed at his touch, her lips parting and her eyes darkening as he teased and stroked. Her body began that tell-tale sign fluttering, and her breathing began to hitch, and still he stared at her.
"Why would I want her?" he murmured in her ear as Elena gasped. "When your pussy is like a fucking furnace, and fucking her is like fucking a corpse? Ahhh…there you go, darlin', over you go."
She cried out as she clenched around him, and Damon's eyes shifted as his hunger for her overtook him. Cupping her throat again, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and began to thrust again. Elena watched him through barely open eyes; her lips parted, and she panted heavily as her body strained against his. And when he met her eyes again, he smiled slightly, before turning his head and sinking his teeth back into her throat. Elena screamed, and felt more than heard his dark laughter. Her body tumbled forward in his arms, her cheek meeting cold silk as his teeth left her throat, and his hands gripped her hips again.
He was striving for his own pleasure now, the snap of his hips almost brutal. But when he came, Elena heard her name fall from his lips, as his body fell forward and pressed her under him. Her name, torn from his throat, sounded like lust mixed with reverence. Then she heard nothing, as her over stimulated body gave way to exhaustion, and she slipped into sleep. Over her, Damon smiled and pressed his face into her hair. She was fucking perfection. He'd always known she would be. And teaching her perfection was going to take a hell of a lot longer than her mortal life would allow her. Oh, he'd wait to change her. Wait until she hit her early twenties, and was in the prime of her life. And then, and only then, would he take her life and give her eternity.
He had time. She'd need it, to come around to his way of thinking. She might currently be sprawled asleep under him, while her gorgeous pussy sill fluttered weakly around him, but once she woke up, she'd fight him. Out of loyalty to his brother, no doubt. Not love. Never love. She'd revealed too much to him by letting him touch her, let alone feed from her. No, she might think she loved Stefan, but she didn't. Not really. What seventeen-year-old does know about love? No, he'd teach her what love was. He'd teach her desire, and need too. He had time, and he didn't mind waiting. He'd already waited a lifetime for her. He could wait a little longer.