I'm aching for you. Damon, I'm aching. Ease my pain.
She wore pastel pink that night. Her hair a shade darker, it dried in a messy bun on the top of her head. She danced around her bedroom, headphones in, as she replied to a thousand different text messages, chose her outfit for the next morning and added the final touches to a supply list for the upcoming dancing. Her cheeks were still flushed from the shower she had taken minutes ago and he swore he saw glistening, wet skin here and there— on the back of her neck, on her thigh, everywhere his instincts told him to look. To the man inside of him, she was innocently beautiful, the kind of girl all other high school girls wish to be. But to the monster, his willing, supple slave looked positively fresh.
As it did on so many other nights, in so many other years in so many other centuries, the monster overcame the man and within him, a pit of anger stirred. He knew in that moment it was his duty as a creature of disgusting darkness to ruin this princess flushed in pink. The empty bottle of whiskey that lay on the floor of his car made his fingers twitch in anticipation.
She jumped when he rapped on her window. The pulse on her neck throbbed a little faster when she saw who it was and the red on her cheeks spilled down to her earlobes. God, how he wanted to put his whole mouth around one of them and just—
"Damon?" She hissed, even though he knew her mother was fast asleep on the couch downstairs. "What are you doing here?"
Even through the haze of alcohol, he knew exactly what to say to make those smooth knees crumble in want.
"I missed you." He said, his perfect eyes glittering. "Can I come in?"
The pulse in her neck throbbed harder. She carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her tiny ear, smiling softly.
He slid through the window, landing hard on the carpet. The room spun slightly. A shot of pain spiked his brain.
Damn, Salvatore, you lightweight. What'd you drink? One bottle?
He frowned slightly, as he leaned against the window to steady the room.
Er . . . was it two? Two and a half? Two and a half and maybe a shot?
Well, that's what you get when you drink like a fish, said a voice in his head that sounded annoyingly like Stefan's.
No. That's what you get when you're in love with a Doppelganger. Pain. Constant, excruciating, intrusive—
"And so that's how I saved this dance from being a total dud! Aren't I amazing?" Caroline smiled brightly at him. She had moved from the window to sitting crossed-legged on the bed, a grin of self-satisfaction on her still flushed face.
He hadn't even realized she was talking. It didn't really matter anyway. His lips curved into a beautiful smirk. He slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the ground. Across the room, Caroline silently swallowed, her heart beating increasingly faster, but she played it cool and laid down completely atop her comforter.
He crossed the room in a single stride, crawling up her bed like a panther would stalk its prey. Caroline bit her lip as he climbed over her.
"Yes, darling, you are amazing."
He kissed her cheek.
"You are wonderful."
He kissed the crevice in her collarbone. She let out a sound like a wounded dove. He felt his fangs bite at his gums. Her hands rubbing through his hair, he pushed up the satin shirt and bothered her bellybutton with his tongue.
"You are perfect."
He took turns biting and sucking her stomach, her legs automatically sliding around his hips. When his lip grazed her breast, she moaned and without warning, his fangs punctured her smooth skin.
She gasped and her head rolled back among the pillows. "Oh God, Damon, you're such a tease."
He watched the blood roll down to her stomach before tenderly licking her clean. He groaned.
"And you're delicious."
He peeled back her underwear to go further, but she grabbed his head with surprising strength and made him kiss her.
"Damon, I can't wait. Not tonight." She panted. "No more mind games."
He snickered between her lips. He grabbed her tiny wrists and threw them over her head, slamming her to the bed. Her soft eyes were genuinely sad, her bruised lips pouting.
"Come on, Damon. I'm literally begging you for sex here. The least you could do is—,"
"Caroline." He purred. "I want to play a game."
She blinked, her eyes empty as if he looked through a blue window with no fire inside the house. Her tiny mouth fell open as if a particular shocking memory was playing like a film through her mind, but Damon knew differently. For him, this was the first sign of total and utter submission. He patiently climbed off her body and waited as that special phrase weaved a complex Compulsion throughout her mind. Normally, he'd let her do whatever she wanted, but not tonight. Not after what that stupid Doppelganger said. Not what after she made him feel.
Damon liked to think of this process as "reprograming."
"How long have you been waiting?"
"One hundred and forty five years."
"And who have you been waiting for?"
"Well I'm here."
Very slowly she sat up and turned her head to him.
Glasses of shining sea, the fire of consciousness grew in her eyes. She was very beautiful.
But they're not doe eyes.
Tears suddenly poured down her face as she let out a gasp of joy. She leapt off the bed and ran to him, throwing herself around his neck.
"I thought I lost you!"
He pushed back a lost streak of hair, imagining with all his might that the hair was brown and straight instead of blonde and curly. "I'm here, baby, always."
She kissed his nose, his cheek, his mouth, finally burrowing her face in his chest. She held him tight, tears running over her mouth.
"I just couldn't believe what happened. They said you were gone. Forever. And oh my God, it hurt, it hurt so much. I searched for you and screamed and waited but I never thought you'd come back."
The pain in her voice, it was tangible. He almost believed her. He played with a straight strand of hair between his fingers.
"Are you going to leave me again?"
Damon swallowed, adopting his cruel, acidic voice. "Probably."
"You don't matter enough for me to stay."
She shuddered and suddenly, he was thrown back against her bedroom wall. She was shivering, her eyes thick with fresh tears.
"You son of a bitch." She hissed. "I gave you everything. I gave my life to you and you don't even have the decency to stay with me when I need you the most!"
Something hot was growing in his stomach but he smothered it with a saccharine smile.
"Sorry, babe, what can I say? You aren't worth it."
His words visibly sliced through her like a whip. She huffed, looking away, and stumbled backward onto the bed. The little princess was cracking. There were tearstains on her dress, a smear of blood there too at the bottom.
This was the part that he craved the most. What would she offer to make him stay? He never gave her rehearsed lines and she always preformed beautifully.
Her bottom lip quivering, she raised her sea-salt eyes. They glowed among the mess of curls.
"Is my love not enough?"
Damon felt his unbeating heart stop. "What did you say?"
She smeared away the tears and slumped to the floor, clutching her bedpost.
"Please, Damon, don't leave me," she wailed. "I'm begging. I need you. I can't live like this. It hurts too much."
This is just a game. It doesn't mean anything.
"Please, please, Damon," she sobbed.
This is the part where you're the hero. You're the good guy.
Very carefully, he went to her and pulled her to her feet. Her knees shaking, she nearly fell again, but he gently cocooned her in his arms. She was still whispering frail pleas into his chest.
"Shh . . ." he murmured. "I will never leave you."
"I can't be happy ever again. I can't be happy without you." Her nose felt cold against him.
"Please, listen to me." He pulled away and took her porcelain face in between his hands. "Stop crying."
She sniffed and immediately the tears faded.
"I will never leave you. Do you know why?"
She trembled. "Why?"
"Because I love you. Did you hear that? I love you."
A glaze of lust overcame her features and her soft mouth fell open in want, searching desperately for his. They stumbled into the wall near her bed, her hands hot on his belt buckle. Just before her lips ripped into him, he grabbed her elbow.
"And who are you?"
"I'm Katherine. Katherine Pierce. And I want you so badly, I'm aching."
His fangs sprouted again, but instead of screaming, she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and ripped through it. He yanked her to him again and without hesitating, he bit into her neck. Her body shuddered and she pressed herself up against him, imploring him to take more. She tasted just as ripe as he remembered. His buzzed fingers fumbling, he yanked her underwear from her perfect ass just as she unzipped his pants.
He kissed her again, his mouth full of her juices.
Somehow they were on the bed again, not even bothering with covers. He lay stark naked above her and with the tips of her pink shirt fisted in his hands, he thought oddly of a wedding cake.
The bed began its rhythmic rocking. She exhaled at first as if she was impatient. The monster-man, drugged by pain and alcohol, took this as a challenge. He heard her heart stop once or twice but none of that mattered now.
Who are you?
Katherine. I'm aching for you. Damon, I'm aching. Ease my pain.
"Kiss me," Caroline moaned from underneath him.
"No. Don't talk." He panted. The first glistening of sweat peaked on her neck and a single drop rolled over his back and splashed onto her chest.
He rode her as if to bruise her.
Her hands clamped onto his shoulders, dragging nails down on the taut muscle. His ego relished in her moans.
And then he kissed her.
"Who do you belong to?" He gasped.
"Louder." Their fingers intertwined, his fangs appeared again. "I want to hear you moan my name. Scream it."
Her bright eyes flashed, holding neither fear nor anger in the face of a demon. She tugged his head to her mouth, their sweaty chests flattened together.
"Damon." Her velvet voice sent shivers down his back.
But it wasn't enough to forget her.
She arched her back and screamed as if those very letters scorched her tongue. As if his name alone induced indescribable ecstasy within her.
He went faster, riding like a horse moving into a gallop. Her head back, she gasped, the friction nearly painful, sweat gathering on every surface, their skin hot like summer pavement, he groaned, almost dizzy, the bed cracking— or was that just his own mind— the mattress heaved, she heaved, sweat poured, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, trapped air desperate for freedom, god he wanted to be everywhere, over her, on her, in— his breath ragged, he pulled forward, a hand on the back of her thigh, she clawed his neck, screaming just for a breath, everything caught in a glorious moment—
The all-consuming wave of lust peaked and trembling like a dog, he rolled off her. Both of them lay there, panting. His head was spinning. He had lost all function in the lower half of his body.
"Why do you play these games?"
He lifted his sweaty arm from his eyes and glanced at her. She was staring at him, her chest quivering, but it was obvious she wanted an answer.
"Because I'm bored."
"I don't call that boring."
"Because we were playing the game—,"
"I would scream your name if you wanted me to." He swallowed and found her shocking eyes watching him from the dark. "You just don't tell me how I can help."
Her words, her voice, it was too much like—
"I'm always here. I wish you wanted me instead of her, but I like you just the same."
"How did you break the Compulsion?"
"Why are you hurting? You only do this when you're upset." Her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. He could still see the sweat gleaming on her perfect skin. "And don't lie. You smelled like an Irish pub when you stumbled in here."
Maybe it was the fact that he couldn't feel his knees that made him tell the truth that night. Maybe he was done with feeling so disgusted with himself, he tried doing something right for once. Maybe—
Maybe it was a book-full of things and at the top of the list, her eyes made his brain numb.
"Katherine didn't choose me. She never planned on doing so. I was made immortal with the sole purpose to love her completely and—,"
Caroline slid across the bed with surprising ease, considering the sweat had turned their skin slick and sticky. She wrapped a leg around his at the foot of the bed. She put a gentle hand on his face, making sure she had his full attention.
"I chose you, Damon. It will always be you."
Very softly she kissed his nose and with his limp hand, she turned and wrapped it around her shoulders. His chest felt warm to her back.
"See, you don't have to be mean to get what you want."
For whatever reason, he allowed her to keep his arm as she gently dozed off into a content sleep. To his great disbelief, he found himself growing tired. He glanced to their intertwined fingers, glowing in the moonlight. He started to count each individual finger but soon slipped into a restful sleep.
She awoke just as he slipped his jeans on. She sat up in the bed, pulling the blanket closer and realizing there was dried blood on her neck. He smelled tears starting to form but with a quiet effort, she pushed them away and sighed.
The sun hadn't even risen over the ridge yet.
"We were having a moment there." She muttered, almost jokingly. "Am I that cheap of a date you have to run out before dawn?"
"You remember last night?" He turned around before pulling on his jacket, the remains of his shirt balled up in his hands.
"Most of it."
"Do you remember what you told me?"
Her face changed to a look of pity and he nearly jumped out the window. But she crawled forward, her hand outstretched. He didn't move but her fingers barely graced his cheek.
"I will always choose you, Damon. You can't forget that."
His gaze turned to her, his eyes nearly demonic. "But you have to."
Quick as lightening he had her pinned to the bed again. She struggled but his grip was as harsh as stone. She was nearly crying.
"Why won't you let me remember you being good?" She cried, tears running down her cheeks.
"Because that's not who I am."
She was truly a beautiful princess. He had successfully broken her. He torn right through the fresh fruit until it bled out on his arm.
"You will forget this night happened. Last night you missed me, you wanted me, but you fell asleep and dreamed of Matt Donovan. Often you will think he's a better friend, a better boyfriend. You will soon grow to hate me, and one day you will break up with me because you deserve someone better. Someone who doesn't play games."
He leaned away, watching the Compulsion take effect.
A soft gentle breeze whispered in from the open window, just as the first shreds of light crossed onto the floor of her bedroom. Wrapping herself tightly with a bathrobe, she went to close the window, feeling as though this day was going to be inexplicably good.
One more gust of wind leapt inside her room, brushing her face with the scent of morning. That was when she realized her cheeks were wet.
Slowly, she raised her hand to her eye and pulled away a single tear.
She stared at it, wondering when she started crying, and trying to remember— for the life of her— why.
*A/N: Okay, here's my first hand at a one-shot! Kinda long but seriously, what do you guys think?
Also, I literally have NO idea where it came from. I got sort of an inspiration from a dirty TVD confession I read (about Elijah, oddly enough) and then it sort of took on a mind of its own.
I hope you guys like it!
Just one more quick thing: of my gorgeous readers, if I wrote a sequel to IITTEOTW, would anybody read it?