Title: Polishing the Apple (SEE NOTE: end of the story)

Rating: T

PART (1 of 2) - This story is already finished. I'm just in the process of editing part 2.

I've always wondered how Elijah spends his free time. After Elejah had their little stroll in the woods (All My Children), I found myself obsessed with the idea of Professor!Elijah. He just seems like such a natural storyteller. After reading 'How Far Will You Go?', my nugget of an idea morphed into a case of mistaken identity. Of course, for that idea to work, Elena had to already be a vampire. This whole thing (that I never meant to post in the first place) took over a year to write. It was just a little fantasy that got away from me. That being said, I feel like I finally got to explore the darker side of Elijah. As much as I wanted to explore that side of him in 'Paid in Full', I couldn't completely disregard the fact that Elijah is already in love with her (in that universe). In this universe, if I did it right, you'll be reminded of the Elijah we saw in 'Rose'.

For this AU to work, you have to assume that Elijah never found out about Elena's existence (while she was still in MF). John didn't come back in time to save her life (at the end of season two). Elena turned (from Damon's blood) after Klaus drained her. She dumped both Salvatores when she left for college. Smart girl.

As much as I love Dark!Elijah, I know that he isn't everyone's favorite flavor of vodka. Some of you probably prefer him as the consummate gentleman. I haven't forsaken the gentleman...I'm just dallying with the monster.


This lecture is giving her an entirely new appreciation for the subject of history. Not that the experience is likely to improve her academic future. She's far too flustered to retain any important names or dates. The guest speaker looks too yummy in that expensive suit. Though his credentials are impeccable, this is no stuffy professor. When she calls Caroline tomorrow, she'll describe him as the perfect mix of Cary Grant and Errol Flynn...posh with a dash of dirty.

He's fielding questions from the audience. Her classmates as well as several faculty members attempt to poke holes in the material he's presented. A few (male) individuals seem determined to provoke him. He deftly counters each, citing multiple sources to support his views. His words are as polished as those fancy shoes he's wearing.

She'd ask a question if she thought she could handle having his attention focused on her. Since being turned, she's had to keep a close check on her emotions. Anger...fear...desire - all are capable of exposing her secret. She hasn't had sex in over a year. As she squirms in her seat, she is reminded of exactly why she hasn't had sex. The familiar ache in her gums...the transformation will soon be visible.

As discretely as possible, she ducks out of the lecture hall. She doesn't notice the dark eyes that follow her retreat.


His first question will be why she bothered to sit through a two-hour lecture on a subject in which she couldn't have the vaguest interest. His last question will be why she decided to end her existence in such a grizzly fashion. If she wanted to court death, the sun would've been far kinder in its attentions.

He returns a half hour after the last student has exited the building. The remnants of her scent cling to the chair. It only takes a few moments to gather the sensory information. It takes longer to calm his body. His hatred for Katerina...his lust - neither have ever waned.

The trail leads to campus housing. Did she decide to feed before leaving the area? It's the obvious conclusion but it doesn't account for why he's unable to detect any human signatures within the vicinity. Is Katerina attending Columbia?


There are times when sharing a dorm room is very inconvenient. She needs privacy and her Sade c.d.

"Elena paid you three hundred dollars to tutor her in Calculus. You're going to treat yourself. Spend the night at the Four Seasons!" If the lust wasn't so urgent, she would've treated herself to the Four Seasons. As it is, she gets a recycled mattress while her roommate enjoys feather pillows.

She tosses off her clothes like she's been cast in a rap video.


When Katerina was aroused, it was possible for him to detect a subtle difference in her hormone levels ...in her scent. A perfect copy of Tatia except in that one regard. Her desire...so potent in such a small, enclosed space - unmistakably other. The young woman writhing on the bed - definitely not Katerina.

A young coed with Tatia's face and body. A slow heart beat (especially in these circumstances) - far too slow to be human. Not just a coed...another vampire. What are the odds? Two doppelgangers...both turned? All that blood rendered useless. Both slipping through his brother's fingers. Niklaus would go absolutely spare if he knew...if.

He should be similarly upset. She would've been the perfect bait. As he watches her fuck her own mattress, he finds he can't quite generate the appropriate amount of bitterness. His frustration has nothing to do with thwarted vengeance. No longer suitable for sacrifice, her body could provide a very different sort of gratification.

It's disconcerting - being so abruptly reminded of his own libido. A certain amount of voyeuristic pleasure is acceptable but he's ogling her like a callow boy. He's far too old to be cast in the role of Peeping Tom.


If she could just get the right angle...

It's not working. She craves unfamiliar flesh - something her body won't recognize as her own. She digs in...a rougher touch to confuse her nerve endings.


That perpetually toned, tanned ass - rising higher as she forces her fingers deeper. His distraction is completely justified (he reassures himself). He wants his hands on those hips...that curve against his cock. The sweat that coats her spine, generated from her aggressive movements - it will perfume his chest. He'll latch onto the back of her neck...leave a beautiful bruise.


Her body has officially gone on strike. Her mind will have to pick up the slack.

He doesn't waste time...doesn't ask for permission. His large hands...his undeniable skill in unclasping bras...in shredding panties...


His hands instinctively move to his belt when she flips onto her back. His urge to just take - her mouth opening on a gasp...her eyes flashing open. He'd have complete control in seconds.


That gorgeous back...muscles shifting...thick, dark hair teasing her stomach...


She's so ripe. Honor and ego...both fight against the drugging lust. He can't believe how quickly he's been reduced to this - base animal. Blood is survival but he has no such excuse for stealing pleasure. She's poised to fall. He deserves to be deprived if he can't push her over the edge.


She freezes as his jaw scrapes her inner thigh. The shock of his tongue - a defibrillator against her clit.

The illusion so real...she can smell him...

She recalls the name that was announced as he stepped to the podium..."Elijah!"


When she screams his name, his eyes immediately snap to her face...certain he's been seen. He won't apologize but a physical demonstration of his (nonexistent) remorse will have to suffice. Just as he's about to speak, he notices that her eyes are still tightly shut. She's still lost to her fantasy.

For two hours, her eyes had been nailed to his form. A wary gaze tracking the distance between their positions (from safety). This isn't Katerina...she has no reason to fear him. He reassesses.

Her body is completely primed yet it's been less than an hour since she left the lecture hall. Her rapt attention, her abrupt departure, the sound of his name splitting the air...delight spreads through his chest as he considers the evidence. This scene is rife with new potential


"Have you always been this passionate about medieval history or was there something about my lecture you found particularly inspiring? That voice - amused...knowing...expensive (too rich for her blood).

The shocked, naked girl tumbles onto the floor. The awkward (vulnerable) splay of her legs...his hand hovers over his buckle (again)...

Vampire reflexes ensure that she recovers quickly. Tuck and roll...her back is now against the wall. A charming attempt to retrieve her modesty. That pillow - it doesn't hide so much as tease.

Most vampires sense his power but she isn't acting like a threatened animal. She's all shy embarrassment...the blush is still on the rose. She must be even younger than he initially suspected. Freshly turned...fit for corruption. He can't deny that this is one school girl he'd love to bend over his knee. To what should he attribute this new kink in his system? It's too easy to stamp Tatia's name on it...label it as nostalgia. He has no tidy justification for acting like a lech.

"What is your name?" He might as well be speaking Swahili. That lovely, blank face stares back at him. "As you've recently demonstrated, you're familiar with my first name. If you'd be so polite as to offer your own, we can complete the introductions."

Polite? He just invaded her privacy...watched her touch herself! "Get out of my room!" She was shooting for indignant...missed it by a mile. Her body doesn't seem to be concerned with silly things like shoddy manners or dorm invasions.

"I'm certain I could make a stronger case for ownership. Considering my financial contributions to this university, it would be more accurate to say that you're renting my room."

His arrogance would've offended her feminist sensibilities (if they hadn't already been discarded with her clothing). His room...are there any other claims he'd like to stake? If he wants to tussle for the bed...

For a few glorious seconds, he thinks she's decided to seize the moment (or just his body). Flushed and determined, that inadequate pillow covering her heat...she catches his gaze with her own. "You'll have no memory of visiting campus housing. Please return home." With something close to regret, she steps back and waits for him to comply.

"Perhaps you'd have better luck if you removed the pillow. You'd be amazed at how obedient I am when a naked woman issues instructions." The smirk is just overkill.

"You're a vampire." A human wouldn't have been able to enter her room undetected. She wants to defend herself (and not physically). She's usually not this slow on the uptake.

"Yes, as are you. Now that we've dispensed with the obvious, your name, please."

He's mocking her. As a human, she would've told him exactly where he could stick his please. As a vampire, she has stronger self-preservation instincts. "I'm Elena."

"Elena" Her name rolls over his tongue - thick & sticky sweet. He savors the final syllable...traps it in his throat. Instead of immediately removing her down shield, he sheds his jacket. He slowly begins rolling the sleeves on his white dress shirt. It's something to focus on...to calm the ache of (temporarily) denied sex.

He looks like he plans on staying for a while. You know you're in trouble when the sight of a man's wrists turn you on.

"How old are you?"

"You should've checked my ID before you watched me masturbate." He gives her the smile that comment deserves. Not shy at all...modest - he can work (and play) with that.

"I wasn't referring to your physical age. When were you turned?"

"Two years ago."

"That was the truth. You should never admit your true age to another vampire."

She raises her hand as if requesting permission to speak "But Professor, what if the vampire has seen me naked?" The faux serious tone...the unsure nibble of the bottom lip...she's begging to be spanked.

He's disappointed by how abruptly she drops the act. Her role-playing talents should be thoroughly explored. "I read the handbook. I just figured I lost my aura of mystery around the time you saw my hallelujah face. Lying about my age seemed pretty pointless." Her aura of mystery remains intact (for now) but she's right about the futility of lying...at least to him.

"True. I'll always know when you're lying." Always... that word has never sounded so ominous. The only type of always she can picture with this man involves a sturdy bed and a large cage.

"Since we're in agreement..." That just can't be good. "please describe your fantasy."

"What?" She must've misunderstood. No one is that arrogant.

"Describe what I was doing in your fantasy." Okay...so there's one. This man...creature...he's unbelievable!

"I wasn't fantasizing about you!"

"Then who is the competitor for your affections...the individual who happens to share my name?" Competitor for your affections...he sounds (almost) genuinely curious. A slight tilt of the head - a question mark to punctuate. Nice touch. She probably earned a little payback for her earlier sass.

"My boyfriend's name is Elijah." She's completely off her game. It's like she's trying to lie to God.

He is running dangerously low on patience. Her attempt to compel him was cute but he won't abide an insult to his intelligence. "Even if I believed you, you can't imagine I'd be intimidated by a college boy."

She can't imagine him being intimidated by anyone. "Why are you here?" She can't imagine him trolling dorms for horny teenagers either. Did he just happen to be in the area...smell an opportunity?

"I mistook you for another woman." Her anger is finally on par with her lust. The thought of being used as a substitute again ...it makes her want to rip his throat out.

"You should've left when you realized I wasn't Katherine!" She's had the misfortune of meeting Katerina...that's surprising. He wouldn't have expected her to survive an encounter with her predecessor.

"My name was on your lips as you touched yourself. I'm not a eunuch, little one. You should just be grateful that I realized my error as soon as I entered the room." His lie is shielded...protected by an implication. He wouldn't have left the room no matter whose name he had heard. The identity of her fantasy lover is just an extremely pleasant coincidence.

"How?" She's not entirely sure she wants an answer. She wasn't aware that she had an audience. What if she looked juvenile...silly...in comparison to Katherine?

"How did I know you weren't Katerina?" As he considers her distinct scent, his groin reminds him that the talking portion of the evening needs to be wrapped up...quickly.

His gaze wanders from her toes...lingers around her thighs. A defense against those presumptuous eyes - clothes would be a good start.

She doesn't make it three feet (let alone to her closet). A wall of plaster against her back ...a wall of muscle against her front. She isn't going anywhere. He twines their fingers together - an action as intimate as the grind of his hips. Bodies compressed - they keep the pillow from falling. If he shifts away...if he moves back now - she'll lose that last barrier. She closes her eyes against the force of his presence.

"Why would you deny me such a lovely view?" He nips at her ear in rebuke. He's pushing harder than necessary...losing all finesse. He enjoys a good chase but this isn't sport hunting. He'd mount her on a wall but not as a trophy.

"You were just a fantasy. I never would've approached you." She whispers the confession. She doesn't have the experience to tangle with this man.

At least she discarded the fictional boyfriend - progress. "It's fortunate that you didn't approach me. You'll be more comfortable here...less inhibited."

Just because he happened to catch her in a (okay, maybe a few) compromising positions doesn't mean she's a foregone conclusion! There seems to be no question in his mind that he can have her...any time...any way.

His granite jaw against the small bones of her hand...hardly a fair fight. He hopes she enjoyed that slap as much as he did. He knew there was a strong possibility that she would attack him. A test of her control...one he had assumed she would fail. He wanted her to lash out - all over his skin. The cut healed instantly but a drop of blood lingers on his lower lip. He can't help but grin as he notices that she's been abandoned. Her anger is a fickle companion. Her entranced stare makes him feel like Svengali...no compulsion necessary.

He can understand why she's annoyed (at the very least) by his insinuations but her desire wasn't conceived in this room and isn't restricted to its limits. She wanted him before she left the lecture hall. His approach likely qualifies as offensively direct but as she so colorfully declared, he already saw her hallelujah face. The next time he sees it ...his cock...his tongue...one of them is going to be buried between her legs.

"Listen, I'm just a twenty-year old student. I can't provide the type of gymnastics you're probably used to. Katherine's the one who trained on the high beam." She looks oddly disappointed by that thought. "I can't be Katherine for anyone." Her mind seems to drift away...lost in an unpleasant memory? Would she tell him who created her inferiority complex if he offered to remove their internal organs?

"You shouldn't repress your sexuality to avoid being compared to Katerina. I don't attribute your desire for me to loose morals...that's just proof of your excellent taste." He brutally exposes one of her largest insecurities yet offers a smile as he pokes fun at himself. He's honest with a healthy sense of humor. She'd hire him in a second if he was applying for a position as her friend. Based on the weapon pressing between her legs, she'd say he's gunning for a different position.

"As for my assumption that I can have you, that's based on over a millennium of empirical evidence." She feels no twinges of doubt as this vampire offers his age. She has no trouble believing that it took over a thousand years to gain this much confidence. His age...his power - both are great excuses for her reaction to him. Of course, one would have to overlook the fact that she fled the room (in search of a bed) before she knew he was a vampire.

"I suppose you think I would've let you bend me over the podium."

"Yes."


re: title of this story...Most of you will probably assume that I'm referencing the 'winning favor through flattery' definition. For the record, the title is referencing a sexual technique.