Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries doesn't belong to me. If it did, it would be way porny.

Most people, on waking up naked and tied to a bed, with a vampire standing idly by and waiting for them to open their eyes, would do something dramatic; scream, perhaps, start begging for their lives, tug at the restraints.

Alaric Saltzman figures it must be a Thursday.

He makes a face at Damon Salvatore, who is conspicuously fully dressed, and certainly hadn't been a couple of hours ago when the two of them had turned out the light and gone to sleep.

Also there are candles, now, apparently, which is new.

"Candles?" Alaric asks, eyebrow cocked. "Really? Candles?"

Damon shrugs. "In general, I find people have a lot more trouble saying 'no' to me by candlelight."

Alaric groans, looks at his wrist. "I don't own this many scarves, Damon. Seriously? You brought scarves and candles? What exactly is it you think I'm going to say 'no' to?" Damon gives an enigmatic smile, still standing at the foot of the bed. Alaric has to fight the urge to laugh. "I'm losing track of all your kinks, man. You got a list somewhere?"

Damon's smile falls, and his eyes widen, raking down Alaric's naked body. "I could write you one. Actually, that's a good plan. Be a veeerrrry long list, though…" He shrugs, non-committal. "Wouldn't you rather just find out one at a time?"

Alaric snorts. "You gonna tell me what you're doing here? I mean, I figure this is mainly recreational, but you have that look."

Damon cocks his head, intrigued. "What look?"

"Evil vampire scheme look."

Damon regards him coolly. "How is that different to my usual look?"

"I dunno, man. You tied me up and lit candles. That says 'plot' to me." Alaric pulls lazily at the scarf holding his right wrist to the bed-post. "So? What?"

Damon climbs up onto the bed, straddles Alaric's body, runs his fingers lazily over his chest. "There's something we need to talk about. Something you keep avoiding, actually, and it's starting to piss me off." He leans forward, puts a hand on either side of Alaric's head, and inclines his head so their mouths are nearly touching. Alaric can feel Damon's breath on his lips, and that's interesting; the vampire generally only breathes to make a point, and it makes Alaric wonder exactly what the point might be. Damon's eyes flicker from Alaric's eyes to his mouth, and back again. Opens his mouth and swipes delicately over Alaric's swollen lips with his tongue, switches his attention to Alaric's jaw, where he licks and sucks and tastes until he finds Alaric's ear, pulls at his earlobe with his mouth.

Alaric shivers all over, and instinctively moves to wrap his arms around Damon, forgetting he can't. Damon sits up a little, just enough to make eye contact, and grins viciously.

Alaric smiles and shakes his head. "This would be a lot more fun if I could play too."

Damon shrugs. "It'll be fun enough," he says, rearranging his body so their hips are lined up. "I'm having a lot of fun." Twitches his pelvis until Alaric's rock hard and aching beneath him, pulling harder against the restraints.

"You win. What are we talking about? If I give you a pre-emptive yes, will you untie me?"

"That was quick," Damon says, kissing trails down Alaric's chest, biting playfully at his nipples, making him strain against the scarves that have him very effectively immobilised.

Apparently, Damon was good with knots. This did not come as a surprise, but Alaric was already a shade or three past frustrated, and would have liked to surprise Damon with some James-Bond style escape, immediately followed the techniques Alaric had found quite effective when it came to immobilising his demon lover; but alas, it was not to be.

Evil vampire schemes. Alaric shakes his head.

Damon shifts his weight again, rocking on his heels between Alaric's legs, running his fingers over the insides of Alaric's thighs. "Pre-emptive yes isn't going to cut it with this, Ric." He reaches a delicate finger out, running it over the now leaking slit at the tip of Alaric's cock, eliciting a moan, making Alaric involuntarily roll his hips up. "Do you trust me?"

"No," Alaric scoffs, and Damon narrows his eyes.

"Yes, you do. Your heart's racing, but you're not scared. You're turned on. I mean, you're really turned on." Damon curls his lip into a smirk, returning his fingers to the insides of Alaric's thighs, making the muscles twitch beneath the surface of his skin. "When humans are afraid, they smell different. You smell like… Ric. Well. Horny Ric."

"Doesn't mean I trust… ungh," Alaric just manages to get out, before Damon runs his tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, running his tongue over the aching head, and pulling away again with a wet sound.

"Two options I can see here. Either you do trust me, or you're an idiot. You know I could drain and kill you in your sleep, and yet, you share a bed with me more nights than not. You always fall asleep first, and you're a heavy sleeper. So, Ric? Do you trust me, or do you just have no sense of self-preservation?"

Damon's not touching him at all, now, and Alaric wants him to. He sighs. "I trust you. Maybe that makes me an idiot. But I trust you." He nods, lets his eyes drift close. "What's your point?"

Damon says nothing, doesn't so much as twitch a muscle for a long time. "You came here to kill me."

Alaric holds his gaze. "Yes."

"When did you change your mind?"

Alaric can think of at least a dozen snarky answers off the top of his head; 'I still might' topping the list, 'the first time I saw your bourbon collection' a close second.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "Probably the moment I knew for sure that Isobel sought you out, and that you didn't technically kill her. Avenging her death seemed… silly, after that." Alaric relaxes into the pillows.

Damon rewards him for this answer by kissing the silken head of his cock, opening his mouth, sucking gently at the head, tongue swirling lazily, and then devouring him for a long moment, taking Alaric deep in his throat, still watching him under long, dark eyelashes. Alaric moans, fights the urge to thrust up, rolls his hips in ecstasy.

"I thought that might be it," Damon says, sitting up again, as Alaric groans, frustration mounting. "And it segues very nicely into what I want to talk about. Your wife."

"You want to talk about Isobel? Seriously, Damon, can we just get on with it?"

"Make me," Damon says, running his tongue down the inside of Alaric's thigh. "If I want to talk about Isobel, I don't think there's much you can really do about it," he says blithely.

Alaric groans again. "Fine. Talk."

"Do you know why she wanted to be a vampire?"

Alaric takes a deep breath. "Obsession."

Damon cocks his eyebrows appreciatively. "Very good. True. And surprisingly unusual." Stretches his body the full length of Alaric's, mouth hovering barely an inch from a kiss. "You know why most people become vampires?"

Alaric has to think about this a moment. Thinks of the vampires he knows, or has known. "Love," he guesses. "Or at least lust."

Damon shrugs, running his tongue over Alaric's mouth, tasting his words. "There's less difference between the two than you might think." Holds Alaric's gaze a moment, and then presses their mouths together, takes Alaric's bottom lip between his teeth, explores every crevice of his mouth. Alaric can hardly see, rolls his whole body upward into the touch, making Damon chuckle.

"Isobel barely made it three years as a vampire," Damon said softly. "You know why?"

This was getting old. Alaric wasn't going to play any more. "She killed herself. Untie me, Damon. I'm not gonna lie here and talk about my dead wife. If you're gonna be a dick, you can do it somewhere else."

Damon grins. "Don't worry. I'm nearing my point. You think life as a vampire is miserable and lonely because you know I chased down Katherine for a hundred and fifty years. Because Isobel was so lonely she killed herself, regretting everything and hating herself." He mouths gently from Alaric's ear to his collarbone, across his chest and up his forearm. "It doesn't have to be like that, Ric," he says, softly, kissing the inside of Alaric's elbow, one hand teasing Alaric's cock back to full glory.

Alaric sighs, almost disappointed, despite the very welcome hand on his dick. This should have been obvious. "This is why you tied me up? To talk about me turning? We've had this conversation. I'm not -"

"Not ready, not interested, not going to turn under any circumstances. I've heard it all." Damon increases the pace, eliciting a strangled moan from Alaric's throat. "Not good enough. Think about it. You can't imagine what it's like, Ric. Everything tastes better. You can hear things you can't even imagine. You want to hear something really awesome?" He bites gently at Alaric's bottom lip. "When I turn you on, I can hear all the blood rushing south." Deepens the kiss, tugging firmly at Alaric's tongue with his own.

Alaric has long suspected this, has seen Damon start to smirk from across the room moments before Alaric's pants start to get uncomfortable. Still, interesting to know for sure. Damon changes his rhythm again, and Alaric arches into his hand, half-stupid with lust. He's close, he's so close, feels the pressure increasing in his balls –

And Damon lets go, climbs off the bed.

"Seriously Damon…" Alaric slurs heavily. "Why are you stopping?"

"Because you're far less chatty post-orgasm, and I haven't finished talking about this."

Damon looks altogether too satisfied with himself, like he's already won. He hasn't. Alaric changes tack, wills his arousal down to tolerable. "You're gonna tie yourself to a high school history teacher for eternity. Right. Seriously, Damon. I'm not an idiot. Sooner or later I'll end up the same as Isobel, latching onto whatever comes along until I can't take it any more and greet the sun." He squints, hard, at Damon's irritated expression. "There is another alternative."

"What's that?"

Alaric gives him his most lascivious smile, which, while it doesn't compare to Damon at his flirtiest, seems to do pretty well. "We just keep enjoying this until we don't anymore."

Damon narrows his eyes again. "You won't be able to keep up with me in a few years. You can barely keep up with me now." He kneels between Alaric's legs, wraps lips and tongue around him, mouth like a vacuum cleaner, like a god damn pro, until Alaric is tugging hard at the restraints, moments from release.

And then Damon sits up again. "You don't give me enough credit, Ric," he says, once again running slightly cool fingers over the soft skin of Alaric's inner thighs. "You think Isobel was obsessive? I make her look downright well-adjusted." Shakes his head, replacing his fingers with his tongue, and Alaric pulls even harder against the ties that bind him, trying hard not to let himself picture this as a metaphor for anything else. "You'd never get free of me."

This should be chilling, but it's not.

Damon chuckles, swipes his tongue delicately over Alaric's balls, up the straining shaft of his cock, and away again.

Alaric makes a disgusted sound in his throat. "I swear to god, Damon. If you don't make me come in the next sixty seconds, I'm gonna hate you forever."

Damon looks up sharply, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Forever. Really?" swipes his hot, wet mouth over the skin of Alaric's belly. "At last. It sounds like we're getting somewhere…"