Push and Pull

Rating: M

Disclaimer: If I owned them, this story would have shown on HBO or Showtime. You know, late at night.

Summary: She thought she knew all that it was about until she was proven wrong.

AN: This is relatively ambiguous in regards to time and setting. Figure everything that has happened has happened. I'm being ambiguous on purpose with this, since my beta hates spoilers and she's not even halfway through season three yet. (She also requested this story, which is the only reason why I wrote it.)

Warning: Caution to all ye who enter here, for there be smut ahead.

Elena pushed the door of the Salvatore boarding house open, pausing in the entry way as she looked inside. She shifted on her feet and brushed her hair behind her ear. She was not afraid to enter the boarding house, and could not remember a time she had been fearful of the building. Instead, she was nervous.

Entering the large home, she threw her duffel bag onto the couch. This little sleepover had been arranged before the argument and she hoped the offer still stood. He could hold a grudge if he chose to do so, and for once Elena had to admit that their little spat had been her fault.

It had started out simple enough. They were on the couch, exploring each other as only new couples could. His hands had been everywhere, under her shirt and at her throat and in her hair. She tried to mach his fervor, her hands glued to his shoulders as she gripped his shirt in her fingers. She could think of only one word to describe the situation. Intense.

His touches weren't the same as the hormone-induced ones she had grew up with or the tentative caresses of one who thought she was porcelain. They were sure and determined as if he knew exactly what he wanted, how to get it, and what to do.

She did not.

Elena pulled back when he nibbled on that one spot on her neck that sent chills down her spine just as his thumb caressed her hip in just the right place that sent flutters through her stomach. She back peddled off that couch faster than he could blink. He had stared at his hands where she had been for a moment before looking up at her.

"You okay?" he had asked.

For some reason, that one comment escalated the situation into a full blown argument. She started the yelling first, and he was never one to back down so he retaliated with his own. Things were said that hurt the other, and by the end of it, she had slammed the door to the boarding house as she stormed away. That had been two days ago.

Now here it was, the weekend, and she was not even sure she was welcome in the house.

She searched the house and found him winding the clock in the other room. The muscles of his arm flexed as he turned the key. The domesticity of the scene struck her as unusual. He was this fearsome vampire, bent on killing all the innocent humans in his path, yet here he was winding a clock. She cleared her throat as she resisted the urge to hide behind the door frame.

Damon spun and just stared at her. Finally he climbed down the step ladder, wiping his hands on a strip of white cloth. "Come for the sleepover after all, then?"

Elena rubbed her arm as she watched him toss the white cloth onto a table, biting her lip as she nodded.

"Good," he said as he stopped a few inches from her. "I have the manicure set all ready. And if you ask nicely, I'll rub your feet after I paint your toes."

His tone was caustic as he looked at her in a way that made her feel two inches tall. She did not rise to the bait he so easily offered, as it would be the safest way to go about this. To continue their fight and add more fuel to the ever growing fire between them would be familiar ground. She did not want that anymore. She was here with him, right now, and for once she would swallow her pride.

He turned to go, but her fingers latched onto the sleeve of his shirt. When he stopped, she stepped close and hid in the safety of his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asked as his muscles relaxed against her.

"For-" she began, cutting herself off as she tried to find the words. There were so many things she should apologize for. Not for just the other day, but for everything that had happened in the past. "For being me."

His arms were tight around her. "That's one thing you never have to apologize for."

There should have been more fighting than that. She should have had to explain herself, tell him why she was wrong and why she had done it. Instead, they watched a movie. Or tried to.

Halfway through, she realized he refused to keep his hands off her. There was nothing overtly sexual about his actions, his hands just wandered her legs and torso because he could. It was when his fingers brushed against her side, wrenching a giggle from her as she squirmed against him, that she realized what had been wrong the other night.

It was not that she had been scared of him, she had been scared of herself.

His touch proved he was more confident than she, and it was that confidence that shook her. She was so much younger than he was, and she knew he had not been merely thinking of sunshine and rainbows when she would catch him staring.

Instead of running this time, when she stood up from the couch she reached out to him. He took her hands as he stood. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"Take me on a tour of the house," she said.

"You've already been here," he said. "Plenty of times."

"Fine," she said as she led him to the stairs. "Show me your room. I want to read Gone with the Wind again."

He rolled his eyes but followed her anyway.


Elena was not new to this. She knew the technical aspects of having sex, the emotional connection that came with making love. Through drunken fumblings in the back seat of a muscle car to the bright sobriety of acquiescence, she thought she had seen all sides of this.

She was not prepared for his reverent whispers of her name against her skin, or the way his hand smoothed over her taught stomach. Where his fingers roamed, heat remained in behind. When it became too much, his fingers and skilled mouth too intense, she tugged his head until she fell in familiar territory.

Damon's tongue was strong against hers, fighting for control as he framed her face with his hands. He could not stop touching her. She was used to this, though, the slip and slide of tongue against tongue. Her hands clenched his shoulders when he nibbled her lip, nails biting hard in his flesh when he tugged. Still, she could handle it.

He refused to stay put, intent on devouring every inch of her. The tip of his nose traced her carotid artery as he breathed her in, his breath warm and heavy against her skin. His hands, always restless, trailed her sides and tickled her thighs. His hand hitched her leg up his waist, pressing it tight against his skin, before he pushed it down and cupped her face once more. He wanted anything and everything and all at once.

Something suddenly shifted, and for a moment he slumped against her. His weight was warm and firm, pressing her down in the mattress, when he suddenly sat up. He was giving her the out, she realized, and she looked up at him. All she had to do was roll away, get dressed, and never look back.

His eyes were on hers with an intense focus. When she did not bolt, he held out his hands to her. She took them in her own, and he pulled her up until she was straddling him.

It took a moment for Elena to settle, and when she did all she felt were his hard angles pressing into her soft curves. His arm braced her lower back, pulling her even closer to him.

Damon moved across the mattress, pressing her into the headboard, as he deepened the kiss. He distracted her with his lips and tongue as his fingers roamed her back. Deft fingers unsnapped her bra and he slid the straps down her shoulder before tossing it in the general direction of the rest of their clothes.

Before she could process the air on her chest, his hand slid beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers shifted against her, teasing her with sure strokes and whispered circles. Her hips rolled into his shifting touch as her head fell against the wall. She felt his smile against her neck as his lips trailed down, blunt teeth grazing against her collar bone.

Frustrated, Elena figured two could play this game. Her own hand traveled from his shoulder and down his torso, determination erasing any hesitancy as she reached her destination. Her hand slipped into his boxers, grabbing his length and gripping as she pulled.

Damon tensed and faltered in his teasing before he grabbed her wrist and pressed her hand against the wall. His fingers pushed in her, testing her as they flexed and folded within her. She pressed her hips against his hand, trying to get him closer, when he pulled away.

Her eyes flew open. Elena wanted to yell at him, but the look in his eyes killed the sound in her throat. He released his grip on her wrist and his hands stroked up her thighs before gripping her panties. He pulled them down and off and threw them off to the side before he divested himself of his own underwear.

Damon pushed her against the headboard. He took in a breath and exhaled slowly before brushing her wild hair away from her face. He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips as he brought her arms around his neck, another kiss as he lifted her thigh in his hand. Then he stared at her as he slowly slid in her. The moment he was seated fully in her, his eyes briefly rolled shut as he rested his forehead against hers. Then he pulled back.

He focused on her face as he moved in her, watching for each change in expression. He was testing her as he shifted, adjusting until he found the sigh or drop of the jaw that satisfied him before he drove after it with a determination that sent her head spinning. He refused to look away, and she could do nothing but maintain eye contact.

She wanted to break his concentration, to force him to be as off kilter as she was right now. She knew nothing, though, and could not think of anything during his onslaught.

His fingers trailed her side before sliding between them. Her concentration wavered when his fingers found that spot then shattered completely at the things his clever thumb did to her.

Unable to take his intense gaze, Elena hid in the column of his throat. Her hands gripped his arms and tugged through his hair as he moved faster. She wanted to do more and touch more of him as she felt the familiar tightening at her core, but he effectively had her pinned.

Elena fought against the oncoming climax. She was not sure why, she always did. Damon squeezed her thigh and murmured against her throat as he shifted again. The slight change in angle struck something in her, causing her back to arch as she bit his shoulder to keep from crying out.

She was sure he would slow, to allow her time to come down, but he weathered her climax with strong, sure thrusts that sent sparks up her spine. Only when she pressed her mouth to his in a tired kiss did he slow his movements.

Elena pulled back, brushing his hair from his face as he gently rocked in her. He was still hard, his muscles tense. Beneath her hands, his jaw twitched, and the muscles of his arms convulsed around her. One look at his eyes and the thinly veiled hunger found there and she knew what he was doing. Damon was holding himself back.

Her breath panted heavily between them. She grazed his cheek with her fingers and offered him a smile. "I trust you."

She brushed his bangs from his face and he pressed his lips against her palm.

He surged forward without warning, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His hands were everywhere at once, stroking her stomach and thighs, cupping a breast and her face. She had thought she could taste his hunger before, but now she knew that he had been starving.

Elena tried to return his passion, her tongue dueled with his, allowing him the dominance he needed. She pulled at his shoulders, bringing him as close as possible.

Then he shifted, pulled her away from the headboard and pushed her down on the mattress. After one last kiss that left her breathless, he sat up, never taking his eyes off of her. They roamed as freely as his hands, leaving nothing undiscovered. Once he was satisfied, he grabbed her ankles and propped them up on one shoulder before guiding himself back in her once more.

His head fell back as he started to piston his hips in short, sharp thrusts. The new angle was different for her, and the way he filled her sent sharp jolts through her body.

He looked at her then, hands grasped the length of her calves as he moved. He was not silent this time as his groans filled the air between them. He clutched her thigh as he pushed forward, trying to find just the right angle. Elena braced herself with hands on the headboard, straightening her body as much as possible to give him purchase. Her knees were near her chin now, and she knew that if this kept up for too long she could cramp. She did not want to stop him, though, for she could feel the familiar tightening at the base of her spine again.

She shifted against him, crossing her ankles, and she knew she must have done something right when his hips slammed into her.

This time it snuck up on her and she had no warning, no time to bite back the cry. His eyes snapped open as he watched her face, dark and intent, as he rode out her orgasm. Her body tightened and his movements faltered as his eyes screwed shut.

A few short thrusts later, he collapsed beside her. She straightened and stretched muscles she knew would be sore in the morning as he wrapped an arm around her and brushed his nose across her shoulder.

Rolling over, she burried her face in a pillow and stretched out from fingers to toes. She wondered if there would be any interesting attempts at walking tomorrow.

He chuckled behind her as he toyed with her hair, and she wondered if he had read her thoughts.

"What?" she asked as she turned her head to look at him.

Damon's smile was wide and wicked. "There are so many things I want to do to you."

She grinned back, hiding her face until only an eye showed. Almost shyly, she responded. "Good."

Thus ends my foray into smut. It may be the only one I ever write, ever, because -whine- smut is hard!