A/N: This is a one-shot. Things have happened here that have not happened in the series necessarily but are totally possible IMO. You may consider this to be AU if you like. I had to write it, though, because I started watching TVD, and I want more than anything I can think of for Elena to "fess up" and be with Damon. I mean, come on folks. REALLY. This is M, basically because everything I write is, and because it goes there rather quickly. This is pure key lime pie. Get your fork and enjoy. (And yes, everybody. I am back. Expect updates to other stories soon.)


They'd come on this trip to get information, and they'd come alone. The mission was over, night had come, and he'd convinced her to come out with him since she had been so sad after his brother had broken her heart. He could not bear to see her sadness. It cut him like broken glass.

They were out here on this dance floor, and nothing else mattered now. There were no curses, no broken promises, no brothers who accused or betrayed, no ex-boyfriends with addiction issues, no family guilt or drama. There was only the two of them. This was always when the problems began.

It had started out as a joke, a dare.

"Dance with me, Elena."

"With you? Please," she'd smirked, intended to blow him off, and it had offended him.

He leaned down over the back of her chair, whispered into her ear. "You always tell me no. Every. Single. Time. I have a theory about why. Want to hear it?"

She turned her head to stare into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, into the bluest eyes there were. "Do enlighten me, Damon. I need a good laugh."

Their faces were not far enough apart. Both of them refused to move away. He tilted his head and studied her with deliberate predatory intent. "I think it's because you're afraid…."

"Of what? Surely you don't mean of you…"

He leaned fractionally closer, head tilting as if he might close that insignificant space between them, might at last do what he'd been threatening to do for so long. She moved exactly the same bit back. His grin was triumphant, evil, enticing. "Mmmm. Oh no. I can see just how….brave…you are."

She pushed to her feet. He waited to see if his baiting of her had been the right move or the wrong one in this eternal and frustrating game of chess he seemed to be locked into with her. She studied him a second longer, and he knew he'd pushed too hard. Again. He waited for her to walk away, to leave him with this longing, this need for her, tried to steel himself for the moment when she'd go back to her solitude, choose being alone to being with him, when suddenly she was extending her hand to him. He blinked at it a moment before realizing what it signified.

"Alright, Damon. You've got one chance. You'd better make it count."

He enveloped her hand in his own, brought it up to his lips, turned it at the last minute and kissed the pulse point in her wrist. Her eyelids fluttered. He knew she'd been expecting the tamer kiss on the back of the hand, the one Stefan once would have given her. But I'm not Stefan…. "I think I can manage that."


Now they are out on the dance floor, and she is beginning to understand why all those women fall all over themselves around him. To her, he's always been Damon the Irritating, Damon the Infuriating, Damon the Jackass. Sometimes, he's been Damon the Marginally Kind. Once or twice, if she's honest, he has lived up to his name, Damon the Savior in truth, as he has killed for her. He has managed to be Damon her Friend despite all that, and she's worried about him, wanted him to find a way to be happy, be good. She's known how hard it has been for him. And there have been times when he's wandered through her thoughts as Damon the Attractive, but she's beaten that down ruthlessly. After all, she is dating his brother.

Sharp little stab in the region of her heart. Not anymore. She was dating his brother. Choices get made, and people have to live with the wreckage.

She's never seen Damon the Sex God, Damon the Seducer although it's true that he's tried to pull that flirtatious crap out on her before. She's always found it a mixture of endearing and exasperating, sort of laughable.

She's not laughing now.

He moves to the music like it was what he was created for. His hands gently mold her body to his, have been erasing the distance between them by fractions of inches since the first moment he led her out on the dance floor, and now he's got her pressed against him so she can feel the hard muscles under that blue button-down shirt, the lean length of thigh beneath those jeans, the body of a man in whole. She ought to take a step back, but she can't find the desire to do it.

The DJ has shifted from fast songs to something slow and aching. She would pull away from him, would leave the floor, but he refuses to allow it.

"Coward," he murmurs. She allows him to tug her lightly against him again, unable to back down from what she really wants and willing to use his challenge as an excuse to have it at last.

His hand splays open on her back, and he begins to turn her around in the slow intimate circles of the dance. Her eyes are closed, and he watches her face. Her arms slip up his chest to circle his neck, fingertips tangling in the hair at his nape.

Unable to resist, he ducks his head and brushes his lips against hers gently, experimentally. Her eyes fly open and she looks back at him steadily. There is no rejection in her eyes. Still, he hesitates. He has wanted this for…longer than he has ever wanted anything and not taken it for himself. And it matters more than anything has mattered to him in longer than he can even remember. Maybe ever. Maybe it means everything.

"Who's the coward now?" she whispers, that little taunt back in her tone exactly right, exactly the thing needed to carry him back to who he is, who she is, what they are together. Her gaze is steady, sure on his, invitation still clearly there, that look he has waited lifetimes for….

"Perish the thought," he growls and he leans down and presses his mouth to hers again.


Somehow from the dance floor they have stumbled back to this hotel room, his or hers, it doesn't matter. A key card fit a lock and in they came. They can't stop kissing each other. It's as if after denying themselves that simplest of the signs of affection for so long, they have to make up for lost time. He pushes her back against the door as it closes, his body pinning her there, and he lifts her up just a little to devour her again. She's aware that she's making noise as he kisses her, something urgent and eager in the back of her throat as his tongue strokes against her own, but she can't quite stop it.

He breaks the contact to seek the sensitive places on her neck, her collarbone, and her fingers thread through the dark silk of his hair. He finds all the places that make her shiver and shudder, nuzzling, licking, scraping across them gently with what she knows are probably fangs by now as his hands find the edge of her top, skate under, skim up her ribs, lifting fabric as they go, slide intimately over her satin-covered breasts. She arches into that sure, possessive touch.

He strips the shirt from her, pausing for a moment to look at her body revealed at long last.

"Elena," is all that he says, but there are worlds in that word. His tone is rough, raspy. There is nothing of the velvet seducer left. What she sees in his eyes is raw need. She reaches for his hand and she leads him toward the bed.


"Strip," she murmured, sitting down on the edge.

He raised a brow, incredulous. "You said what to me now?"

She leaned back on her elbows, enjoying the way his gaze burns across her nearly bare torso.

"I don't think you have any problems hearing me, and those clothes do have to come off…."

The smile, the wicked one that promises things she's never even heard of is back. "Mmm… So they do. And so do yours. How about this? I'll show you mine if…"

Elena raked her eyes down him, flicked her gaze back up to meet his own. "Deal." But before he could reach for her to pull her onto her feet, she smiled sweetly and said, "You first."

He shrugged and with no self-consciousness at all, the jacket he'd worn is gone, thrown in at the chair in the corner. His eyes never left hers.

"As long as I get mine in the end…"

He worked the buttons on the shirt next, opening them slowly watching her watch him. He let the shirt slip down his arms, wadded it up with that same lack of concern and discarded it. He kicked out of his shoes, brought his hands to the fly of his pants. Elena felt her pulse quicken.

"Does the performance so far meet your standards?"

Her eyes met his, took in his tiny little smirk, drank her fill of the sight of him there, half naked and stripping for her. She shrugged as though unimpressed and said, "I'll let you know if I ever get the rest of it."

He laughed and undid the fly in one quick motion, hooked the jeans and his underwear with his thumbs and pulled them down together. He stepped clear and stood in front of her completely naked, arms behind him, almost at something like military attention but with his own personal brand of fuck-you in it, and he watched her as she looked at him.


He was well-worth looking at. Elena couldn't quite breathe. Her eyes traveled down him. He was built sleekly, packed with lean muscle, the body of a man who works his body, not who works out, the panther not the lion. Elena got up from the bed and walked over to where he stood. She walked all the way around him. Even though Damon did not move, she could not help but feeling somehow that he was stalking her.

"See anything you like, Elena?" His voice was dangerous, dangerous.

"Maybe…" she murmured.

"Such as? Don't get missish on me now."

He felt her fingertip graze his shoulder, trail lightly across as the taut muscles of his back to the opposite side. She stood before him again, and she ran an open palm across the plain of his chest, caressing in slow strokes. Her hand dropped lower toward that rippling abdomen, toward what was on such generous and proud display for her….

"Everything I'm seeing is very, very good, actually…" Her voice was husky.

Suddenly, his hand was wrapped around her wrist and he was dragging her up against his body. He tangled his other hand in her long hair, cradling her head to position her for his kiss. There was no gentleness in it, no tender request. There was only demand and desire. Everything inside her came alive, responded. She ran her hands up his bare chest, one hand fisting in his hair with its own greed, the other caressing his face as she felt herself lifted from the ground.

Never been kissed like this, like…like it was vital. Like it was more important than breathing, than living. Than anything.

Kissing Stefan has been good. Sex with Stefan had been good, great even. He had always been attentive, careful with her, romantic, gentle. But she wasn't even on the bed yet, hell, she wasn't even completely naked yet, with Damon, and she already knew this was something different, something more.

They hit the bed and she felt his hands sliding down to divest her of her bra, his mouth finally releasing hers as they did. He was kissing his way down her throat with ungentle kisses, kisses she could feel the teeth in, open-mouthed kisses soothed by his hot tongue, and she arched into the sensation as he finally covered her bared breasts with his palms.

"Thought…thought…you were going to make me show you mine…" she managed to gasp out as his wicked fingers caressed a circle around a nipple instantly taut for him.

"Another time," he purred against her ear. "No patience just now to enjoy the show." Deep kiss that left her gasping. "Let's just say you owe me." His hands continued to tease her bared breasts. "Instead, I thought I might…" And suddenly, he had dropped his head to pull the aching peak of her right breast into his mouth. There had been no warning. It was like being hit with an electric current. Her back bowed, her head fell back, her eyes closed, and she gasped, and his hands slid beneath her back to support her with a small groan. She could feel him pressed against her hard as a rock where his hips pinned hers to the bed. She could feel the rasp of his tongue as it lapped at her again and again, and she grabbed at his head to hold him against her.

Damon watched her, drinking in her the beauty of Elena in her pleasure. How many nights, how many days, how often had he thought of her like this? Of what she would look like abandoned and in ecstasy? How often had he wanted to know the taste that went along with the fragrance that was uniquely hers? He had heard Stefan and her together on nights when she had come over and stayed with his brother. It had not been possible not to know they were together. A vampire's senses were both a blessing and a curse all too often. How much had he drunk trying to block out the sounds of her pleasure at his brother's hands, the subtle scent of her passion that assailed him until he simply grabbed his jacket and launched himself out of the house to find some distraction, any distraction until it was over….

Now though, he was the one making her writhe. Those short sweet sounds, those gasps and moans were for him alone. He alone had the pleasure of pleasuring her. And oh, how he intended to pleasure her. Oh, how he intended to make her scream….

He lifted his head and trailed small kisses across the valley to the other nipple, flicked his tongue against it lightly, relishing the way her small hand in his hair tugged in demand, relishing the way her eyes opened to look at him with eyes filled with need.

Like that, do you? Not enough, though, is it, beautiful….

He did it again, just that teasing tracing of her nipple.

Her head fell back and again she pulled at him in frustration. He pinned her hands beside her head, pressed his lips against the underside of her lovely breast, kissing and teasing, watching her reactions.

"Damon," she whispered, and it may have been the loveliest word anyone had ever given him, full of frustration and need as it was. Holding her gaze, he lowered his head and slowly, slowly slipped her into the heat of his mouth, suckling hard. She twisted under him, a demand older even than he was, and whatever patience he had been calling on was gone.


He rolled her on top of him, and faster than she could understand, the rest of her clothing was gone and he had her sitting astride his lap. He looked down at her body for a moment in satisfaction that she was, at last, his, and then he was kissing her again. Elena could feel the urgency in it, and she gave it back to him, sucking the tongue that plundered her mouth. Her hands splayed on the broad chest before her, slid lower, seeking, and she wrapped a hand around him, stroked the rigid length that was ready for her. He made a sound in the back of his throat at that, his hands coming down to cup breasts, slide down her torso, over her hip, caress her bare back, slip over her derrière. It was as though he had to touch all of her, wanted to leave no part of her unclaimed.

He lifted her slightly, pulled her forward, positioned her, and she wrapped her legs around his lean hips as he lowered her. Her head fell backwards as she felt him begin to fill her.

Oh God. Oh God…This is different….He's…he's…

Damon watched the expression on her face as he slowly slid into her, and he shuddered at the feeling of her there around him.

He's …so much…more…

And then he began to move.


His fingertips dug into her hips as he thrust up into her. Elena's fingernails dug into his shoulders, tiny little crescents of pain that spurred him on. She cried out as he rocked under her, moving against him in counterpoint. The rhythm was fast, relentless.

Only this. Forever. I could be here with her until the end of time. She's everything….everything….

The sounds she made were driving him mad. The sight of her body slickly enveloping his own was making him savage. The knowledge that she was getting close was making him desperate to see her come for him, come on him, again and again. He slipped his thumb between her thighs, through her wet curls, seeking the slick and swollen bud. He pressed it, felt her nails rip his back, watched her eyes go blind as he stroked her, played with her, as he felt her tightening around him.

"Oh God," she moaned, pulling at him as the orgasm rolled her under.

He gathered her close, thrusting hard.

"That's right, Elena. Fuck, yes. Come for me. I'll give you anything. Everything. Whatever you want. Everything you need. Go over. I've got you."

Her world dissolved.


A sensation of incredible pleasure brought her back from the drifting world where he'd flung her. She raised her head and looked down. Two things registered at the same time. One was that she was now lying on her back. The other was that Damon was lying between her legs, one of them draped over his shoulder, with what had to be the hungriest and wickedest single expression she'd ever seen on anyone in her life.

He was licking his lips, and it occurred to her what the sensation she'd just had must be.

"Damon," she said, half sitting up.

"Shh," he said. "Trust me. Don't tell me you haven't had this particular pleasure before…."

She looked at him a little unsure. No. She hadn't. Actually Stefan hadn't been all that adventurous in bed…at least not with her…. He had always treated her like some sort of fragile virginal bride. He'd saved the exotic adventures, the fucking against the wall and on all fours for others….

Damon was still looking at her, and she knew her thoughts must be written on her face. He turned and pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh. Then he smiled one of his most seductive smiles.

"Well, in that case, don't you really think it's about time you did?"


He took his time. He settled in. He made her come completely apart. She bowed up. She fell back. She came again and again.

Her fingers tangled in his satiny hair to hold him against her, and she both heard and felt his dark chuckle. He paused in his pleasurable torment long enough to look up at her and murmur, "So the lady approves, I take it?"

"Damon…oh God…if you stop now…"

He raked his eyes over her sweat-sheened body, over her heaving breasts, over the slick valley upon which he was feasting, and he ran his fingers across her, drinking in the sound the action elicited, slipped one long clever digit into her as he lowered his head again. "Just remember you said that…"


He was buried deep inside her, his hips rocking slowly. His hands framed her face, and he watched every emotion, every feeling as it moved through her eyes.

Hours had passed. There was nothing outside this room, nothing beyond this wrecked bed, nothing other than him and her together.

At last the world is just as it should be.

There were no words he could give her to express what he felt. He was no poet, no spinner of elegant phrases. That had always been Stefan. Since he could not give her pretty words, he simply gave her more of his body, more of this.

She cried out, and as he watched the ecstasy shine in her eyes, felt it shimmer through his own body, he reflected that it was enough.


Elena watched him sleep. It was such a cliché, but amazingly true that he looked innocent when he slept. All the badass that he draped over himself like a shield was gone, and only the archangel beauty remained.

She fought the urge to trace the curve of his cheekbones with her fingers, knowing that if she touched him, he would awaken.

Let him rest. He….he earned it…

Her thoughts replayed the night, the hours, and although she did not wish to keep coming back to Stefan in her mind, didn't want to drag him into this bedroom at all, certain truths were inescapable.

No. Really. They're nothing alike at all….

She'd slept with Stefan. She'd believed it had been very passionate and exciting sex. Looking back on it after one night with Damon, she wanted to laugh at how very foolish and naïve she'd been.

Because Stefan was always so worried about hurting me or losing control that we never had a night like this.

She sighed.

Let's be honest. I never saw in his eyes what I see in Damon's. Not even when he was…when we were…I never saw that focus, that intensity. When Damon looks at me, I feel like I am the only thing in the universe. I feel like I am his universe. With Stefan, I always felt like some part of him was somewhere else. I always assumed that it was a part of him struggling for control with the bloodlust. But I didn't see that with Damon tonight. Not once.

She gave in to the impulse, smoothed an errant lock of hair back from his forehead.

So maybe what I was seeing was just a prophecy that was finally fulfilled when Stefan went back to…when they…

She felt fingers wrap softly around hers, and she looked back down in time to see Damon bring her hand to his lips, kiss the tips of her fingers lightly one at a time. His look was steady, but she could see the question in it.

She smiled and shook her head. He pulled her gently, and she came with no resistance, allowed him to wrap her in strong arms, settled her head on his shoulder. He kissed her forehead, that old gesture that had been, for so painfully long, the only contact he'd allowed himself.

They lay in silence for a time. Then….

"You're going to wear a hole in your head if you keep pacing around and around up there like that, princess."

She smiled, and he felt it against his neck. He liked the sensation.

"So you're clairvoyant now? Taking pages out of Bonnie's book are we?"

"Mmm. Maybe. You never know with me, do you?"

She rolled away just slightly enough to be able to see his face. "You are full of surprises. That's true enough."

He grinned, ran a hand down her. "You have no idea. I have not yet begun to surprise you. Trust me when I tell you this." His voice dropped to a panther's purr, and he nipped lightly at her ear.

She laughed, swatted at his roving hand, pushed lightly at his chest, but she felt a shiver of desire all the same.

He settled back and considered her with eyes still mostly amused. "Spoilsport."

She made a face at him, pushed her hair back from her face. He watched as her expression became serious again, distant, and he sighed.

"Elena? Really. What's wrong?"

Because if it consists of you regretting last night, then I need that stake in the chest fast as possible. Don't kill me by inches.

"I guess I'm just sort of…curious…about something, maybe…."

Oh hell. This can't be good.

"Did you say curious?"


He made an impatient gesture with his hand. "About?"

"When we were…..When you…"

"When I was rocking your universe right down to its foundations…"

She narrowed her gaze. "Damon."

He grinned insolently. "You seemed to be struggling for the right words. I just thought I could help you find them."

"This is not funny! I have a serious question, and if you're not going to.." She shoved at him, but he wrapped his arms around her refusing to let her go.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Shh. Just me being an ass. I'll….do better."

She sighed, decided to start again.

"When you were making love to me last night, did you have to fight the bloodlust?"

He pulled away from her to sit up on his side of the bed and looked at her quite seriously for long moments.

"Stefan told you about this."

She nodded, moving to sit up as well, biting her bottom lip but saying nothing.

He started to say something, shook his head, and then said, "No. The better approach, really, is to start by asking what Stefan told you about this."

She blinked at him in surprise. She remembered Stefan sitting on the edge of the bed their first time together and telling her that he was going to have to fight his nature, fight the vampire part of him that would want to drink her down as their bodies joined, would crave the taste of her blood as part of the union. He told her that it might make him seem a little distracted or distant at times as he held back the beast within, that there were certain things he would never be able to do (kiss her neck among them), and that if he ever told her to get away from him, she must.

She related all this to Damon, and he sat for a moment still, processing it.

"And this, this is how my brother fucked you this whole time and you put up with it? He basically closed his eyes and thought of England while he was inside you," he saw her angry expression and he held up his hand, "oh it was holy and for your good, I know, I know, because it was saint Stefan, but Elena, good God, didn't you know it wasn't supposed to be like that?"

He leaned across to smooth his thumb across the angry line of her mouth, cupping her face gently.

"You have to know. It doesn't ever have to be like that."

He brushed a kiss to her lips. She looked at him in confusion, wrapping her hands around his wrists.

"Then why? Why was it that way with him? Why aren't you that way? I don't understand. I saw him change, Damon. I…I saw him, and I knew that if he couldn't control it, he would…"

Damon sighed. He pulled her back into his arms and settled them both against the headboard.

"My stupid semi-noble brother, at least at that time, was on a diet consisting largely of Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail, remember? And he had feelings for you. Combine those to factors, and yeah, when the two of you tied up to do the big nasty, he was bound to get all fangy. He was being about as stupid as it is possible to be. He was starving himself and putting himself in a highly provocative situation. He might as well have filled a room with gas and lit a match. Sooner or later, there was bound to be a big boom. If he only ever showed you fangs, Elena, I am going to have to say that the two of you were exceptionally lucky. It's a blind wonder that one morning I didn't come in and find you…"

He didn't finish the sentence, and he didn't need to. She shuddered.

"That's why you were always so angry with him…"

He laughed a little. "Well, one of the reasons, anyway." There was something in his eyes that he wasn't saying. Something that he might never say. Something he'd said one night when he'd not been able to stand it anymore and then he'd made her forget….

She looked up at him, and her heart beat a little faster. She was not ready for that yet. She saw it and knew what it was. She'd been seeing there for some time, but just now….

"So…so…I don't have to worry about the same thing with you?" She grasped for the threads of the conversation.

He smiled that little Damon smile, the one that meant he was folding away his feelings for a later time, and looked away. "No. You'll never have to worry about that with me. I drink human blood like a good little vampire should, remember? If I ever bite you, it will be on purpose. You'll enjoy it." He skimmed the knuckle of his right index finger down the line of her throat. The smile that he gave her this time was intended to disquiet.

She slapped at his hand, but he would not be moved.

"Damon," she hissed. "That's not funny."

He lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. "Who said it was meant to be?" He kissed her, a gentle chaste kiss, just a press of the lips behind her ear.

"What are you doing?"

"Mm… Close your eyes and think of England, honey. It will be over in a minute."

His next kiss was an open-mouthed licking kiss against a place he'd discovered she was sensitive the night before. She shivered in his arms, and he smiled.

"Thinking of Queen and country, then?"

He let his fangs slip out as he rolled her under him, skimmed them lightly across the pulse in her shoulder, and when she moaned, he raised his head to let her see him as he buried himself inside below.

"You don't ever have to worry about my control, Elena. I'm not going to lie to you. You might not always like the truth I tell you, but you'll always get it from me."

The fangs were gone just like that. And he kissed her deeply, thrust hard.

"And unless or until you want to see that side of me again, you don't have to worry about it. Because while I absolutely want to devour you, there are oh so many other ways to go about it…."

And he proceeded to show her.


They were driving home, the hotel rooms emptied, bags tucked back in his car. He had one hand on the wheel, one holding hers.

They had been silent for a very long time. The radio played softly, and neither of them wanted to be the first to say anything. Both of them were aware that they were headed back to Mystic Falls where all the things they'd shed with that first kiss on the dance floor were waiting to descend on them again.

Both were aware that at some point a decision was going to have to be made and be discussed.

Damon looked at her in the afternoon sunlight, a study in golds and browns, and his patience was the first to go. He pulled the car to the side of the road and switched off the ignition. She looked at him in question.

"So just put me out of my misery one way or the other. How do you plan to play this when we get back home?"

Elena toyed with the vervain necklace around her neck a moment, and then she sighed.

"I don't know."

Of course you don't. Of course. Well, isn't that wonderful? Well, what did I expect? That you were going to throw yourself across the car screaming, "I love you, Damon"?

He nodded, a bitter smile on his face.

Elena, looking out the window, did not see it. Her voice had a musing tone to it when she spoke again.

"I mean, it's going to be difficult isn't it?"

"What is?" His voice was sharp. He couldn't help it. He needed her to finish it.

"Getting everybody to wrap their minds around…around….us," she finished looking at him hesitantly.

He froze, his mind simply unable to process what he'd heard.

Her expression changed. "I mean, well, of course, or not. Or not. Obviously. Okay. Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. Sure. Right. Never mind, because clearly…."

He grabbed her. "Shut up. Just shut up." And he kissed her.

If you liked it, why not tell me? R & R, please.