A/N: This is my very first o/s, plus my very first attempt at smut, so I hope I did okay with it. I wrote this as part of the author to author exchange, run by BadBoysAreBest, and I used the prompt by LoveEpicLove, which was as follows:
"A/H. Damon and Elena are co-hosts on a TV show. For whatever reason they hate each other. Plenty of on air sniping, snarkiness, and insults, but great chemistry.
After their last broadcast on Christmas Eve, they get locked in the studio together. Hot sex ensues.
Alternatively, if you want to skip the co-anchor angle, I just want to see co-workers who hate each other locked together at work.
The sex should be hot, but I want to know what each of them are feeling too."
LoveEpicLove is so good at writing these kinds of stories, so I hope i gave her at least a little of what she wanted! I hope you all enjoy it, and Happy Holidays!
Christmas in front of the Cameras.
"And lastly, heavy snowfall has been forecast for this evening, so it is advised that nobody attempts to make a journey unless it is an absolute emergency." Damon Salvatore smirked his trademark smile as he looked into the camera. "I know I intend on staying warm and cosy in my apartment tonight!" He turned to his co-anchor.
Elena Gilbert smiled brightly at him. "Sounds like a plan, Damon!" She turned her smile towards the camera. "So, that's it from us here at MFV News, except to wish you all a wonderful Christmas."
"Yes, Happy Holidays, everyone!"
"Aannndd... we're out!" The producer called from the back of the room, generating a collective sigh from everyone in the room.
"'Sounds like a plan'? Is that really the best you could come up with?" Damon drawled, ripping his tie out from around his neck and undoing the top two buttons of his white shirt.
"I've told you before, you could at least warn me when you're going to go off script," Elena huffed, swinging her long dark hair over her shoulder as she stepped away from the news desk.
"You did actually do some journalism studying, right?" Damon said sarcastically, hot on her heels as she strode down the corridor to her dressing room. "Because following your nose is a big part of being a journalist, you can't plan out every little thing, you know."
"Oh, shut up!" Elena entered her dressing room, slamming the door shut in his face.
"And a Merry Christmas to you, too!" She heard him call through the door.
Ugh! Elena sat down in front of her mirror and grabbed the box of make-up remover wipes. She swiped angrily at the thick orange foundation she had to wear in order to not look washed out under all the lights, almost stabbing her eye out with her fingernail. Who the hell does he think he is? Elena hated him. She hated, hated, hated Damon Salvatore and his cocky little smirk. She had worked long and hard to get where she was in this business, and then he had just wandered in one day and been offered the job as her co-anchor! And now he wanted to give her tips on how to be a journalist? The only tip he knew anything about was the tip of his own... Elena grimaced, furious with herself for even thinking about that particular part of her colleague's anatomy. She made it a rule never to think about any part of Damon's body at all, or the way his bare skin might feel against her fingers. She never imagined his tongue tripping down between her breasts as he slowly licked his way down further, or the way his hips might feel as they arched to meet her own and... Nope, definitely no sexual fantasies here. Elena rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror and threw the orange gunk covered wipe in the direction of the wastebasket.
She was just finishing rubbing in her face cream when a knock came at her door. "Miss Gilbert, I'll be doing the rounds and locking up in ten."
"Okay, Bill!" She called to the security guard, and rushed to get changed. She pulled off her formal white blouse and quickly yanked her deep V-necked top over her head. Bending down to grab her jeans, she saw to her dismay that the wipe she had tossed had landed on her pile of outdoor clothes, leaving a smear of orange goo down the leg of her jeans. Elena looked down at the short flared black skirt and shiny black high heels she had worn for the camera and sighed. Great, now she had to go outside and navigate the frozen ground in ankle breaking four-inch heels.
Stupid woman, Damon thought to himself, as he slammed the door to his own dressing room. Why can't she ever just go with the flow? Elena Gilbert infuriated him. It wasn't enough that she had to try and make him look like an idiot at every opportunity, she also had to parade around in front of him in those tantalisingly short skirts. Just thinking about her long shapely legs, and that teasing flash of thigh as she crossed them at the knees made his trousers painfully tight. He was sure she did it on purpose, spinning her chair slightly towards him just when he was in the middle of a sentence. He had to keep his wits about him just to avoid tripping over his own tongue. Every time she tucked her hair behind her ear, fantasies of leaning her over the news desk and wrapping his fingers around her long mane as he thrust into her would flood his mind, so that he would find himself unable to stand up immediately once the cameras were turned off. If he wasn't completely certain that she would laugh in his face, he would have cornered her in her dressing room and fucked her out of his system months ago.
He was just finishing wiping the disgusting make-up off his face when a knock sounded at his door. "Locking up in five, Mr Salvatore."
Damon walked down the corridor back towards the studio, his mind still on Elena's legs as he imagined them wrapped around his waist. He stopped short at the sight of the darkened newsroom; they normally left the lights on until the last person left the building. Maybe they were all in a hurry to get out of here on Christmas Eve? He reached out for the door handle and pulled, but it wouldn't open. He yanked harder, but it wouldn't budge. The door was definitely locked. "Fuck!" His voice echoed through the empty studio as he looked around, searching for another door. He heard heels clicking on the floor and turned to see Elena emerging from the corridor.
She frowned at him, then cast her eyes around the room. "What are you still doing here? Why are all the lights turned off?"
"Maybe because we've been locked in?"
Elena glared at him. "Very funny. Open the door, I want to get home."
"Trust me, I wish this were a joke as much as you do, but the door is locked." She raised her eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes and gestured at the door. "Be my guest, try it for yourself."
Elena looked at him sceptically, before stepping closer to the door and pulling on the handle. When it wouldn't budge, she jiggled it sharply.
"Believe me now?"
"I don't believe a word that comes out of your slimy mouth." She tossed a glare over her shoulder sat him, before starting to bang on the door with her fist. "Hello? Hello, can anybody here me? Bill?" Elena put her ear to the door to listen for sounds on the other side, and noticed that Damon had moved away from her towards the news desk. "This would go a lot faster if you helped me, you know."
"The security guard has probably gone off on his rounds, he won't be back here for quite some time." He smirked at her. "I prefer to wait with my dignity intact, but by all means, go ahead and scream yourself hoarse, don't mind me." He picked up the sheaf of papers scattered on her side of the desk, holding them up to the security light.
Suddenly remembering that she had been doodling on those papers during the sports round up, Elena sprinted over to the desk and ripped the papers out of his hands.
"Hey! I was reading those!"
"They're my private notes, you don't need to see them."
"If they're so private, maybe you shouldn't leave them all over the place."
"They were on my side of the desk! How was I to know you'd go snooping around?"
Damon leaned back against the desk, the security light flickering in his ice blue eyes, the green tinge of the exit sign throwing his raven hair into stark relief against his pale skin. "You know," he said, his eyes glittering. "You should probably be a bit nicer to me."
"And why do you think that?" Elena cocked her hip as she glared at him, causing Damon's eyes to travel down to those amazing legs, still framed by that little black skirt from earlier.
"In case you haven't noticed, the producer loves me. Who knows, maybe if I let slip about how hard it is to work with you, he might find me a new co-anchor." Damon shrugged.
"Me? I'm hard to work with? Are you kidding me?" Elena slammed down the pile of papers and leaned towards him. "I've had to work my ass off to get this position, and you come waltzing in with your fake charm and your plastic smile, and you think you've got everybody eating out of your hand! Well I'll tell you something, Damon Salvatore," she leaned in further, using her index finger to poke him in the chest. "I happen to be immune to all of it."
Damon looked down to her hand hovering tantalisingly close to his chest and grabbed it, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. His own pulse jumped as he felt hers start to race just below the skin. "How about you? Walking around in your shorter than short skirts? Flashing your legs in my direction every chance you get, just hoping I'll trip up and make a fool of myself? Fluttering your eyelashes every time I look at you?"
Elena gasped and tried to pull her hand out of his tight grip. "I don't... flutter my eyelashes!" she said indignantly.
Damon kept hold of her wrist, walking her backwards until she met the curve of the desk behind her. He leaned in closer, until all she could see were those piercing blue eyes. "Elena," he breathed out silkily. "You're doing it right now."
He closed the distance and met her lips with his own urgently. For a moment, he thought she was going to give in to him, before he felt her palms against his chest as she pushed him away.
Damon stumbled back a step, rubbing his cheek and rotating his jaw. For a girl with such little hands, she sure could give a good slap.
He opened his mouth, whether to apologise or start laughing he didn't know, but before he could make a sound, she launched herself at him.
Her hands went around his neck to tunnel through his hair as she pressed her breasts against him, suddenly aching for some friction between them. She pressed her mouth to his forcefully, trailing the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips, encouraging him to part them and let her in. The moment he did, her tongue surged between his teeth, needing to be close to him, needing to taste him. She pushed him back until he was the one pinned to the desk, and she plastered her body against his, feeling the proof of his arousal against her stomach.
As their tongues battled for dominance, Damon grabbed her round the waist, sliding his fingers inside her top, under her jacket, feeling her moan into his mouth at the contact. Her hands slid down from his neck to his shoulders, pushing his jacket down his arms, before moving her fingers to the buttons on his shirt. Damon pulled his arms out, then pulled her jacket off, throwing it on the floor behind her, his mouth never leaving hers. His fingers gripped the hem of her top and he slid it up her ribcage slowly, trailing a path of tingles up her sides. She finally broke free from their kiss so he could lift her shirt over her head, arching her back as he placed kisses down over her jaw, sucking gently at the soft skin below her ear.
His hands came up to cup her breasts through her bra, and she moaned as his thumbs brushed her nipples, his touch hardening them into stiff peaks. Elena's hands slid down his chest, marvelling at the way his hard muscles felt underneath the silky softness of his skin. It was even better than she had imagined. She fumbled with his belt, undoing the top button and sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers.
Damon growled and pulled back, grabbing her around the waist and turning them round, lifting her and placing her on the edge of the desk. He flicked open the front clasp of her bra, staring in wonder at the way her skin broke out in goose bumps at his feather-light touch. He ghosted his fingers around the swell of one breast, as he leaned down to take the other in his mouth. His teeth nipped lightly at the hardened bud, and Elena moaned , her legs slipping open to allow him better access. He trailed his tongue down the valley between her breasts towards the waistband of her skirt, the sweetness of her taste overloading his senses. He slid his hands up her silky smooth legs, his thumbs rubbing tantalising circles on her inner thighs as they glided closer and closer to their destination at an agonisingly slow speed, and Elena thought she would pass out from the burning need to have him inside her. His hands slid up to her hips, his fingers taking hold of the top of her panties as he slowly slid them down. He placed a blazing trail of hot, open mouthed, kisses on her thighs as he navigated them down over her high heels, flinging them over his shoulder. He slowly worked his way closer to the apex of her legs, and as he brushed the tip of his tongue across her lower folds, she felt her eyes roll back in her head.
"Damon!" She cried out breathlessly, as he sank his tongue slowly into her heated core. She tunnelled her fingers through his hair in an effort to hold him in place, and he chuckled against her, sending waves of pleasure over her. He moved his tongue upwards, searching for her bundle of nerves, bringing his hand up and slipping in first one finger, followed quickly by another, into her damp feminine heat. He blew lightly on her swollen clit, before laving it with his tongue and he slowly but insistently pumped his fingers in and out of her. She screamed his name as she came, her body still shuddering with aftershocks as Damon kissed his way back up to her neck.
The overwhelming need to have him inside her intensified, and Elena reached for his trousers, yanking them down over his hips as she gripped him between her thighs.
Damon stilled his movements for a moment, lifting his hand up to caress her cheek. He had fantasized so many times about taking her from behind over this very desk, but he couldn't bear the thought of not being able to look in those chocolate brown eyes as she came for him. Sliding his hand between them, he guided his cock to her entrance, sliding the tip along her slick lower folds. He watched as her tongue snaked out to lick her lips, feeling the sweet yet painful sensation of her fingertips digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer.
Elena wriggled her hips slightly, smiling as she heard him hiss through his teeth. Seems she wasn't the only one getting frustrated with all the foreplay. She wriggled again, and she felt the tip of his cock slide in, right where she wanted it. She looked up into his eyes, wondering if her own were as ablaze with lust as his was.
"Well?" She said playfully, even as her breath came out in shallow, ragged gasps. "Are you waiting to trip up and make a fool of yourself?"
Damon smirked at her. "And here I thought you were immune to all my charms," and with one thrust, he came to rest fully between her thighs.
Elena gasped at the sensation of him filling her up as he settled his weight on top of her. As they picked up their rhythm, the desk shuddered beneath them, causing the small, decorated Christmas tree to topple to the floor. Damon laced his fingers through hers and together they gripped the edge for leverage and support, ripping the tinsel that ran the length of the desk. Their mouths found each other again, teeth nipping and lips sucking as their heated desire burned through them. Elena brought her leg up, resting her high heel against the closest chair, and Damon slid his hand between their sweat slicked bodies, finding her swollen bundle of nerves and pressing down. Elena screamed his name again as she came, her walls tightening and spasming around him, and he quickly followed her over the edge.
Damon watched as her eyelashes fluttered, feeling her breathing return to normal as they came down from their mutual high. She looked so beautiful, her hair fanning out beneath her and hanging over the edge of the desk, her cheeks flushed and her lips kiss-swollen. He leaned down to capture her lips with his once more, and she sighed contentedly. The sound reverberated down to his very soul.
Elena looked up into Damon's heavy lidded eyes, his mussed raven hair framing his flushed face. She reached out and caressed his cheek as he leaned down to kiss her, and she felt the fire between them start to heat up again.
Damon stroked her hair off her face and tucked a strand behind her ear. He had just opened his mouth to speak, when the jangle of keys echoed through the otherwise quiet studio.
"Hello? Is anybody in here?" The security guard's voice floated through the locked door. Damon and Elena scrambled up from the desk, grabbing their clothes and yanking them on. Elena had just pulled her jacket up over her shoulders as the door opened, and Bill flicked on the lights.
The guard looked around at the chairs that had been pushed around in their struggle, at the ripped tinsel and the small tree lying on its side on the floor, baubles fanning out in every direction. "What happened here?"
"A Christmas Eve kiss under the mistletoe," Damon smirked and pointed up at the nearest camera, where a sprig of the festive plant had been threaded. "She got a bit carried away. Apparently she can't resist my charm."
Elena glared at him and stalked over to the door. "More like he tripped and made a fool of himself." She rolled her eyes.
Bill showed them out to the front door, holding it open for them. He shook his head as he shut the door and locked it. Those two were just never going to get along.
Elena waited until they were both standing under a streetlight, before turning to face him. "So," she said, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
"So," Damon echoed, putting one of his hands in his pocket.
Elena took a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"
Damon looked at her for a moment, before snaking his other arm round her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Well, how about we get warm and cosy in my apartment?" He brought his hand out from his pocket and dangled her red lace panties in front of her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Elena grabbed for them but missed, and smiled up at him. "Sounds like a plan."