Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases. It's not worth it; don't be a thief !

For S, Jenna, Meg, and Alli; who have all been nagging me constantly on LiveJournal, Twitter, here on FF, and on IM! You know you only get away with it b/c I love you all anyway ;p

Author's Note: *wipes sweat off brow* Whew, I'm FINALLY finished this story. Thank god, I was beginning to wonder if my muse was ever going to shut up and let me end it. Hope this was worth the wait, because I probably won't be updating anything else for a while; I've got a Vampire Big Bang to write for LiveJournal, so right now my focus is on getting that finished. I'll of course post it here when I've got it all written, but in the meantime you all will just need to be patient. Speaking of LiveJournal, thank you so much to all those who voted for "All I Need" in the TVD Recs Fanfiction Awards! I promise to continue to live up to my reputation for Best Smut ;) Which reminds me…if I were to start writing professionally, and made up my own romance novels/novellas with my own characters, would you be interested enough to purchase them? I'm thinking of writing e-books for Amazon etc. and by-passing the big publishing companies completely so I can get my novels out there without all that red tape. I'm not sure when I'd start doing that, but it's always been my dream to be a published author, and it would be amazing if I could turn my passion into a career someday.

P.S. Because I don't want to get lynched by any Twilight fans, I'm just going to warn you all now…there's some snarkiness in this chapter regarding Breaking Dawn. I am not going to apologize for it, either. That book was a clusterfuck of insanity, and the worst anti-feminist piece of "literature" ever to grace the shelves of the Young Adult section. It's not worth the paper it's printed on. If you have a problem with that, just know that I will NOT bother to read any comments flaming me for my opinions. It's called freedom of speech, and just as I won't censor my lemons or tone down my language, I'm not going to censor my opinions either. If you can't take the commentary in the humorous way it's intended then don't read, or skip through that part of the fic. Okay? Okay.



"I would die for you

I would die for you

I've been dying just to feel you by my side

To know that you're mine."

Garbage- #1 Crush

Chapter 5: I Would Die For You

"I'll turn you."

The words echo in her ears even now, as they're lying on the bed, their bodies angled toward each other. She doesn't know how much time has passed; all she's aware of is the soft brush of Damon's fingertips over her face. The rest of the room has disappeared; melted into thin air, and the only thing she can see is him. She watches him carefully, waiting for him to put a condition on it, or tell her that he only intends to do it as a last resort, but he says nothing. He's gently brushing another strand of her hair from her neck, and she swallows nervously at the way he's looking at her; it's like he's trying to burn her image into his memory. For a moment she senses some hesitation, and she's afraid he's about to change his mind; and then he leans into her again, his breath against her cheek as he nuzzles just behind her ear. His breath tickles her skin and she shivers at the sensation, and tiny shocks of electricity shoot through her at the first touch of his lips. A fleeting thought passes through her desire-fogged mind and she wonders just how much more intense making love with him will be afterward. She imagines it will be quite explosive, given that she already feels like she's on fire whenever he touches her; then she gives up thinking altogether.

Damon pulls her closer to him, cradling her body against his hard chest. His lips are more insistent now, trailing down the side of her neck to the pulse point that's beating rapidly just beneath her skin. He can almost taste the sweet essence of her, and it's driving him half-mad with his need to claim her; to mark her as his at least once while she's still human. He knows it's unnecessary, maybe even a little selfish for him to draw this out any longer than it needs to be, but the truth is he doesn't want to turn her; not yet. He's waited too long for her, dreamed of nothing else but the touch of her skin and the sound of her heart pounding in her chest as he sends her to heights she can't even imagine. He wants to feel the heat of her skin, hear the sharp little gasps as she struggles to breathe even as he feasts on her breasts and savors the sweet honey flowing from her like ambrosia. He wants her under him, writhing with pleasure, and he wants it while she's still human; and Damon Salvatore always gets what he wants.

He tugs the collar of her shirt down to expose her shoulder, mentally cursing that he can't just tear it off her because it just so happens that he dressed her in one of his favorites. Her body wriggles against him as she attempts to lift the shirt up with him still suckling at the place where her neck and shoulder meet. He allows her to break away from him long enough to tug the fabric over her head. He tosses it somewhere far off into the corner of his room, not caring where it lands, and a soft moan escapes his lips at the sight of her bare before him. She's perfect, just as he knew she would be; her breasts fill his palms as if they were meant to be touched by him and him alone, and she arches into his touch, begging wordlessly for more. He has never been able to deny her, so why start now? In an instant he has her up on her knees, straddling his hips; there are perks to being a vampire, and the super speed is definitely high on his list. Her breasts are perfectly level with his face as he lifts her up just enough to capture one caramel colored nipple between his lips.

She lets out a sharp little cry at the first sting of his teeth on the sensitive little bud, but soon it becomes a low moan as he soothes the tender flesh with the softness of his tongue. His hands are gliding up her back, sending little shivers up her spine as his fingers tangle into her hair. She can feel his rigid length through the thin material of his boxers as she rocks against him. God, she's never been this worked up in all her life; her skin is already tingling, every part of her alive with sensation. The pulsing between her thighs is maddening in its intensity and she isn't sure how much more she can take. The suckling, tugging, nibbling, licking…it's all too much for her; her head is spinning, her body wracked with tremors, and she's coming undone at the seams. His hand slips easily between her damp thighs, slick with sweat and her own arousal; he presses his palm against her, delivering just enough pressure for her to crash over the edge. With a keening cry she arches into him, gripping his shoulders and clawing at his back as he strokes her through the fabric of her panties and draws more shudders from her even as he's lowering her back down to the bed.

She's absolutely magnificent in the throes of her passion; he's certain he has never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life, and he can't help feeling pleased that he is the one to cause it. Unable to resist the temptation, he hooks her panties with his fingertips, drawing the scrap of lace to the side slowly, until he can hear the faint tearing sound of the fabric as it begins to fray at the seams. He pulls it from her, overwhelmed immediately with the powerful scent of her arousal and the perfect image of her lying naked on his bed, her legs splayed out and her body completely open to him, waiting for him to claim what's always been his.

"Damon," she whines, just before he captures her lips again, swallowing her cries as he slides his fingers deep inside. Her nectar coats his hand as he rubs his thumb over her clit; he presses his fingertips against her walls, searching for that little spot inside her that will send her into another glorious climax and cause her to scream his name. It doesn't take long at all; that little patch has already swelled to the size of a quarter, and she responds instantly to his touch. Her fingers curl into the sheets, gripping them tightly as his lips trail down her throat, over her chest and down to that quivering place between her legs that calls to him like a siren. He pulls his hand away from her, giving her a short reprieve as he sucks them clean of her honey before lowering his head to the source.

At the first touch of his tongue she cries out again in rapture; it's exquisite torture, a mix of pleasure and pain as his tongue flicks over that pulsing little bundle of nerves in just the right spot. Her hips are bouncing up off the bed, her legs shaking almost violently, and he has to press his free hand into her belly to keep her still as he feasts on her like a man starved. She's so hot, and yet her skin is prickling with goose bumps; she feels so weak, and yet she can't stop thrashing; she's screaming, writhing, gasping for breath as the coil tightens inside of her until it's almost painful, and then he closes his lips around her sensitive flesh and forces her to let go. The cord springs back with so much force that she's sobbing incoherently as her inner walls contract repeatedly around his fingers, almost pushing him out of her body. Impossibly he resists, curling them inside her to press against her front wall again; sending her hurtling into a climax so powerful she's almost certain she can see the stars behind her closed eyes. She barely recovers before his lips find hers again, his naked flesh nestling between her thighs and the tip of his thick cock probing the entrance to her body. She moans softly as he pushes his hips forward, burying himself deep inside her throbbing core. They move as one, her hips undulating in time with his thrusts; every stroke sets off sparks inside her. She's dimly aware of the tears flowing down her cheeks as the pressure builds up once more.

She grips his hips, pushing him deeper inside her, moaning "Come with me," into his ear.

He's been close to his breaking point for a while now, having only held on this long because he knows he'll never get another chance to make love to her just as she is now, but it's her words that finally push him over the edge; he couldn't hold out anymore if he wanted to, and with one last thrust of his hips they're both plummeting off the cliff and into a sea of fire. The heat of her body is overwhelming, but he clings to her like a lifeline, pressing her scorching skin to his; her warm body; the blood pulsing in her veins; and the rapid pounding of her heart, they're the things he's going to miss most of all once she's turned. Only the knowledge that he'll have her with him forever keeps him from regretting his decision. Placing one last soft kiss against the pulse of her neck, he rolls off of her, smirking slightly at her little whine of protest as soon as their bodies disconnect. She curls into his side, unwilling to leave his arms even for a moment as she comes down from her high. It's several minutes before her breathing returns to normal, several more for her heartbeat to slow to a steady pace. She rests her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed; he's almost certain she's fallen asleep, but then she opens them again.

"So what do we do now?"

He chuckles softly, amused that she still even has the energy to stay awake after the workout he put her through. Her stamina is impressive, especially for a human woman; as a vampire she could very well become the first woman to ever wear him out. That thought alone is enough to spike his arousal again, and he grins, running teasing circles over her hip with the tips of his fingers and bringing on those sexy little goose bumps again.

"I can think of a few things…" he replies, sliding his hand down to cup her ass and give it a playful squeeze.

She giggles, but slaps his hand away. "No," she says, trying to inject some seriousness into the tone of her voice. "I mean about us."

He looks at her, puzzled by her statement. He thinks it should be obvious; now they live happily ever after, or whatever the expression is.

"What I mean is…I still have your blood in my system from last night," she continues in a contemplative manner. "Is it enough to turn me or am I going to need more? And how am I going to die? I mean, are you going to snap my neck after or is that too impersonal?"

He rolls his eyes, feeling more than a little irritated that she wants to talk about dying now.

"As far as pillow talk goes, this is a little morbid don't you think?" he points out, hoping she'll drop the subject. He said he'd turn her; he had never agreed to do it today, though. She sits up, her arms crossing over her chest and hiding parts of her that he'd really prefer to be enjoying again, rather than have this conversation with her. But Elena is stubborn, and he can already tell by the look she's giving him that she's not going to drop this anytime soon.

"I'm serious, Damon," she says in that no-nonsense tone of hers.

"So am I," he counters. Sorry, but she's not the only one who gets to be stubborn. "Discussing your death isn't exactly romantic, you know."

"I thought you wanted me to turn."

He sighs, resigned to having this discussion with her, whether he wants to or not.

"For my own selfish reasons, yes, I do," he admits truthfully. "But killing you myself wasn't exactly part of the fantasy."

Okay, so maybe that's not entirely true; there had been a time when he had threatened to do just that, but that was long before he realized just how much he loved her. Feeding her his blood, that's easy; he has no issues with letting her drink as much as she likes, (provided she doesn't drain him dry—and the irony of that isn't lost on him) but that second part of the turning process…that's the part he's seriously taking issue with. He held her lifeless body in his arms once already, and personally he never really wanted to repeat that experience. The only reason he is even agreeing to it now is because he can't live without her; that's just not an option for him. It's his greatest strength as well as his greatest downfall; he loves with his whole heart, and will literally do anything to be with that person. So yes, he knows that he is going to have to let Elena die sooner or later; but he really, really wants it to be later. She's only what, twenty three or four right now, right? They could at least wait a few more years…

"I could always do it myself," she says, as if she's able to hear his internal monologue and has decided to take matters into her own hands; some things never change.

"That's even less appealing." He's repulsed by the very idea of her taking her own life, because it's all kinds of fucked up; granted, this situation is fucked up in itself, but that's not the point. Whenever he imagined her turning, it was to save her life; to ensure that she would come back to him, should the unthinkable happen. It was never about her dying for him.

Obviously picking up on his reluctance to turn her, she keeps her arms folded over her chest and cocks her head to the side. "So what's the plan then?" she asks mockingly. "You wait until we discover I'm carrying your impossibly conceived half-vampire baby and you feed me your blood as a last resort effort to save my life during the delivery?"

He rolls his eyes. "No," he replies, unable to hide his disdain for that particular vampire romance—if you could even call it that; because that Edward guy is such a tool. "Also, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

She ignores his comment, however, choosing instead to continue down this path of insanity.

"I suppose if we had a boy, we could name him Steferemy," she smirks, giggling at her little joke, "or Johnsseppe."

"I stand corrected. That is even more ridiculous; even worse than naming your kid after a fruit!"

"Of course," Elena continues, (and Damon rolls his eyes because he really can't believe she's comparing their situation to that drivel) "the whole baby thing would only happen because I refused to let you abort it and have me impregnated with another man's child, just to indulge my "maternal need".

"Okay, now that is really fucked up!" he says out loud, having had enough of this stupidity. He's not that familiar with the series, but from what he saw of Caroline's book that time in her room, it was already bordering on ridiculous; no self-respecting vampire would ever take a book about glittery vegetarian vampires with purity rings seriously.

"Whoever the hell wrote those books had some serious issues!" The subject is already boring him; he so does not want to get into a lengthy discussion with her about everything that's wrong with those books, and especially not when he suspects she's trying to distract him from the real discussion. "And you are not taking this seriously."

"Neither are you."

She's still looking at him with her lips pressed in that thin, stubborn line. Her brow is arched in challenge, and it's like she's saying "or are you too much of a coward to actually go through with it?" Her dark eyes are burning into his and he growls low in his throat. Damon Salvatore is a lot of things, but he's not a coward.

"You want serious?" he replies, challenging her right back.

She's in his arms faster than she can react, and in a blur of light and movement she's suddenly standing alone in front of the bathroom mirror with her back to the glass shower. She barely has time to even explore her new surroundings before Damon appears behind her again, only this time he's holding something in his hand. She furrows her brow in confusion as he places the handle of the blade into her hands, but doesn't let go of her wrist; he brings it up to his chest, never taking his eyes off hers and never loosening his grip even as he forces her hand to press the tip of the blade to the side of his neck.

"Make it deep," he instructs her, "but not too deep. If you just scratch the surface I'll heal too quickly."

Her eyes are wide with shock as the first drop of blood begins to trickle down his collar bone; the wound closing almost as soon as it's inflicted.

"Damon, what are you…" she starts to pull away, not wanting to hurt him, but he holds her firmly to him.

"I'm not going to force you this time," he rasps, his eyes blazing with fierce determination. "If you want it, you're going to have to take it."

She stands there in stoic silence, her eyes flickering from his face to his chest several times in the span of thirty seconds. She's frozen in place, her hand still clutching the knife but unable to pull away or press any harder into his skin with it.

"It's your choice, Elena," he whispers softly.

She bites her lip hard; there's no going back from this moment, she knows this is it. She can feel his grip loosen on her wrist, until the only thing holding her hand in place is her own fear of what will happen if she pulls away from him now; if she says she can't do it. She knows that if she does, she might not get another chance. Her eyes flicker to his one last time.

"I love you," she whispers softly. And then she presses her hand down.

The blade slices into his skin, just enough to let the rich, dark blood trickle over his pale skin. She's mesmerized by it, and though she's tasted his before, she can't help feeling like this time is going to be different, because it's not being forced on her; this time she wants it. She presses the blade a little deeper, letting more of his blood flow from the wound before finally dipping her head down to taste him. She shivers as the first few drops hit her tongue; it's like fire and ice coursing through her veins. She suckles at his flesh and drinks deep, moaning softly at the taste of him; like fine wine and the richest, most decadent chocolate.

Damon closes his eyes in pleasure, moving one hand up to tangle in her hair and press her harder into him as he takes the knife from her hand, setting it behind them to clatter noisily in the sink, though they're both too focused on each other to hear it.

She's breathing heavily now, her lungs crying out for air even as she drags her nails over his shoulders and grips him tighter to her. She's shuddering now, moaning in ecstasy and grinding shamelessly against him. He knows all too well that vampire blood is a powerful aphrodisiac, and even comparable to the most potent form of MDMA for those who have a strong attachment to the vampire who gives it; in Elena's case, the scent of her arousal is overwhelming in its intensity. It's driving him crazy, making him so hard that he can't stand it; the only thing he can think about is how much he wants to be inside her again.

She's still hungrily lapping at his skin, and he has to gently press against her shoulders to stop her before she drains him dry.

"That's enough," he whispers, tilting her chin up and bringing her lips close to his.

Fuck. He can taste his blood in her mouth as he kisses her; it makes him even harder, if that's possible at this point. Because he's already pretty fucking hard; and if he doesn't have her soon he's going to be in some serious pain. Elena's not helping the situation either; she's raking her nails down his chest, scraping them teasingly over his stomach down to his treasure trail. And then she pulls her lips away from his, grasping his cock tightly in her fist, and rubs it up and down her slick folds like he's her own personal sex toy.

"I want you inside me," she growls (actually fucking growls, and it's the hottest sound she has ever made thus far) in his ear.

Nobody in their right mind could resist that, and Damon's not even willing to try. In an instant he has her pressed against the tile wall of his shower, her sexy legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She cries out as he slides into her completely in one long, sharp thrust of his hips. She's so incredibly tight, despite their earlier excursions in his bed, and feels like a god damn inferno.

She clings to him desperately, sobbing his name as he rolls his hips up to hit that one spot that makes her legs twitch.

"Oh, oh, there…" she hisses in his ear; like he really needs her to tell him that he's driving her out of her mind with pleasure. She screams, convulsing around him as he hits that spot one more time, reaching down with his free hand to circle her pulsing clit and bring her to an even more powerful climax. He doesn't even wait for her to catch her breath as he pulls out of her and quickly flips her around, pressing her back flush against his chest; then he enters her again. Her nails scrape over the tiles as she slams her hips into his, driving him deeper inside her hot core. He can already feel her quivering walls surround him, squeezing his flesh in delicious torture as she nears another climax, and he knows that it's almost time; as soon as his own climax hits him and he empties himself into her, he tilts her head back to rest on his shoulder and buries his face in the soft column of her neck.

"Do it," Elena moans softly.

Damon wraps his arms around her, bringing her as close to him as he can; one hand pressing into her full breasts, the other curling down between her legs to give her as much pleasure as he possibly can—because this is going to be her last human memory, and he wants to make sure it's a good one. His fangs elongating, he pierces her skin just as she's crying out in ecstasy; he can taste her pleasure as he drinks deep, savoring every drop of the sweet ambrosia flooding his mouth. He holds her like this for several minutes, slowly sipping her blood like he would a fine wine until she's physically weak and begins to fall limp in his arms; until his strength is the only thing holding her up. He's almost tempted to pull away from her, and force his blood down her throat until she opens her eyes again. Under any other circumstances, if it were anybody else, he would be enjoying this moment; the moment when his victim's heart starts to slow, then stop as he has one last taste before dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. But this isn't just any woman in his arms, and though it's slowly killing him to do this, he won't let her go.

When he hears her heart give one last, faint beat, he gently lifts her into his arms; cradling her close to his chest as he carries her over to his bed. He sets her down against the white sheets, stroking the strands of hair out of her face, and he can almost pretend that she's sleeping; except that her heart no longer beats, and her skin is cold to the touch.

Several hours pass, but he refuses to leave her side. He strokes the soft column of her neck, brushes his hand against her cheek, and stares at those closed eyes as if he's trying to compel her to open them. He hates seeing her like this; it reminds him of the last time he'd held her lifeless body in his arms, and swore that he would stake her if she came back a vampire because he was afraid she'd hate him forever for it. Now he has to lie here next to her, wondering if she'll still want this life when it's already too late. He worries that she'll hate herself, because no matter how much he tries to convince her that she's nothing like Katherine, this will be yet another similarity between them. And if all that crushing guilt and sadness follows her to this new life, what then? Will she be able to handle it, or will she try to turn off her emotions (like so many other newborn vampires)? And what will that mean for them? What will it do to her when eventually the "switch" doesn't work anymore and she has to face the consequences of her actions? Will the guilt be too much for her? Will she leave him? Try to kill herself?

He's well aware that he should have considered all of this before he turned her, but then again, if he had then he probably wouldn't have done it. And then where would that have left them?

Either way, he's pretty sure he's screwed.

Elena chooses this exact moment to awaken. Her eyes shoot open, and she gasps in the air she no longer needs. Her head is pounding horribly, and her eyes are stinging as the light hits them full force, and her stomach is practically crying out in protest, as if she's been starved for days. She can't remember how she got here; the last thing she remembers is having sex with Damon in the shower (minus the running water) and feeling the most intense pleasure she's ever experienced. And then…nothing; everything just went black after that.

She looks up at him, still breathing heavily, and notices the relief in his beautiful eyes.

"I was wondering when you were gonna wake up," he teases her, smirking slightly before his expression turns to one of concern.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I have the world's worst hangover," she groans, placing one hand to her head in a vain attempt to stop the hammering inside her skull.

"Sorry," he says apologetically, "I probably should have mentioned that part."

The implication of his words suddenly hits her. "Am I—?" she starts to ask, and he nods his head in confirmation.

She's suddenly very quiet, as if contemplating the choice she now has to make. Damon frowns, because he has no way of knowing what she's thinking.

"Do you regret it?" he asks, not even bothering to hide the guilt in his expression.

She shakes her head, but doesn't reply.

"Elena," he presses, emphasizing every letter of her name.

She looks up at him, and he can see the fear in her eyes. "If I complete the transition, I won't be like Katherine, right? I'll still be me?"

Shit, he was afraid this was going to happen.

He honestly doesn't know how to answer her, because even he doesn't know what's going to happen once she takes her first sip of human blood. She could be like him, and not really change the core of who she is, or she could become a completely different person; worse than Katherine.

She could become a Ripper like Stefan.

He doesn't tell her any of this; instead he smiles softly and brushes his thumb over her trembling lower lip.

"You'll never be Katherine," he tells her; which isn't a complete lie, because no matter what happens she'll always be his Elena. Besides, if Stefan could become a vicious homicidal maniac, and come back from it twice, then there's no reason to believe that the same couldn't happen for Elena; though he's still hoping she'll remain the same so he doesn't have to lock her up. That would seriously put a damper on their sex life for a while; plus watching his brother go through "detox" was bad enough, and watching Elena go through it…that would be even more painful to watch. Forcing her to suffer, possibly for weeks, is definitely not on his list of "honeymoon" activities.

Fortunately she's too pre-occupied, concentrating mostly on keeping her head from splitting open (that's what it feels like, anyway), to notice he's not being one-hundred percent honest with her.

"I'll be right back," he tells her, somehow able to sense just how much pain she's in (even though he barely remembers his own transition, and at the time he'd been suffering more from a broken heart than the after-effects of being technically "dead").

On his way out of the room he stops to close the curtains.

She closes her eyes, not because she wants to, but because it's the only way they'll stop burning. She thought she understood, when she watched Jenna clutching her head and complaining about the pain, but she really hadn't understood at all. The light from the window (even behind the curtains) is sheer torture, and all she wants is for this to end now. Whether she becomes Katherine, or worse, she really couldn't care less. It doesn't matter; she knows that Damon won't let her stay that way. He proved that last night; and she knows that if she does decide to give up her humanity, he'll be right there to kick her ass until she's Elena again.

She can hear him in the kitchen, and knows that he's getting her something to drink. She's surprised he still even keeps blood bags in the fridge, but then supposes it's more convenient than constantly looking for people to snack on. She's thankful for it, because she really doesn't feel like waiting for him to bring home a "willing" victim for her. Plus, it's broad daylight, and she's without a ring to protect her once she completes the change.

It's as she's realizing this that she suddenly remembers something; something important that she'd all-but forgotten last night after Damon had brought her back here. She's not even sure how she manages it, since her skull is still pounding, but she rolls off the bed and finds her small purse lying on top of her jeans. She easily locates the smooth stone with the long silver chain, and closes her hand around it. She doesn't exactly know why she's kept Isobel's necklace for all these years; it's not like she even knew her birth mother well enough to have any sentimental attachment to it. But as she twirls the lapis stone between her fingertips and settles herself back down on the bed with it, she wonders if maybe she knew that one day she'd have a need for it. After Caroline's death, Stefan had held onto her ring; and while Damon could probably have contacted his brother and asked for it, she knows what it means to him. He'd never said it out loud, because at the time of Caroline's death she'd still been trying to choose between him and Tyler, but Elena knows that he had been in love with her. Had things worked out the way they were supposed to, Stefan and Caroline would be living happily ever after and she and Damon would have done the same; but when have things ever worked out the way she wants them to?

"Whatcha got there?" Damon's voice interrupts her thoughts. She looks up to find him standing in the doorway with a cup of blood in his hands and a curious look on his face.

She dangles the necklace from her fingertips, giving him a teasing smile.

"I figured it would be a good idea to keep this with me; you know, so I don't burst into flames."

He smirks back at her. "Well, I was going to get you a ring eventually, but this works too."

He sets the cup on the bedside table and gently holds his hand out for her.

"May I?" he asks, sounding just like a gentleman of his time. She stares at him for a moment, unsure of what exactly he wants. He glances down at the chain in her hands, quirking his brow at her.

"Oh," she exclaims, handing him the necklace and nodding her head. "Of course."

He smiles softly, moving to sit behind her on the bed, and his fingertips brush over her bare shoulder as he moves her hair to the side.

She closes her eyes, reveling in his soft touch as he drapes the chain around her neck and the stone settles just above her breasts. An involuntary little shiver goes through her at the contact of his fingers at the nape of her neck, and she bites back a low moan as he fastens the clasp and deliberately places a kiss on that spot.

She can feel his lips smirking against her skin.

"Are you cold, Elena?" His hands snake down past her collar bone to cup her breasts and flick his fingertips teasingly over her pebbled nipples.

"N-No," she gasps, overwhelmed by the sensations his touch evokes in her. "J-Just S-S-Sensitive."

He chuckles low into her ear, sending powerful vibrations through her. "I know," he purrs, capturing her earlobe between his teeth. "It gets better."

She can't imagine her senses being even more heightened than they already are, and just the thought of it is enough to make her shiver again. It takes her a moment to realize he's stopped touching her, and when she opens her eyes she notices he's reaching for the cup on the table.

"Drink up," he says, handing it to her. "It'll give you strong bones and teeth."

She shakes her head, laughing at his little joke before bringing the cup to her lips. She's surprised by how good it tastes, but also notes that it's still not as potent as his (It's almost like comparing sex with chocolate; both are incredibly satisfying, but sex is still the better of the two). It's thick and syrupy, and it slides down her parched throat like a slushie on a hot summer day. The prickling in her gums is a little uncomfortable, but she ignores the slight sting as her fangs emerge for the first time and keeps drinking until there's not a drop left. By the time she's finished, the discomfort has subsided.

Damon takes the cup from her, smirking in amusement. "Someone was thirsty," he teases.

"Shut up," she says, playfully shoving him. For once in her life, she actually manages to move him. She knows he's always going to be stronger than her, because he's older, but the fact that she could pin him down (even for a moment) thrills her. A wicked grin creeps across her lips at the thought, and Damon sets the empty glass down on the table, watching her warily.

"I just thought of something," she smirks at him.

He arches his brow, smirking right back at her in challenge. "Oh really?" he asks her. "And what's that?"

She licks her lips, still grinning as she brings herself up to her knees in a cat-like pose, the whole movement taking less than a second.

"I'm faster now."

"You are," he purrs seductively.

"And I'm stronger," she adds, pinning him down to the bed with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"Mmmhmm…" he agrees as he begins to slide his hands over her thighs teasingly. She shivers in response and he takes advantage of her momentary distraction to lift her up so that she's straddling his hips. Elena lets out a little growl of pleasure as she rubs herself teasingly over his aching hardness.

"And I get to be with you whenever I want," she purrs, leaning over him to brush her lips against his in the sweetest kiss.

"Forever," he tells her, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Forever," she affirms.

Then she sinks down on him and the pleasure overtakes them both. The last coherent thought she has is that she's going to enjoy being a vampire; especially if it means spending an eternity with Damon by her side.

The End