AN: Well, I'm not usually one for writing smut but I just couldn't ignore the ON FIRE chemistry between these two. There is only the barest bones of a plot and a little character insight, but mostly them getting it on.

Elijah sits in his study, brooding darkly over the swath of books haphazardly strewn over his desk. The small leather jewellery box containing the cure weighs heavily in his jacket pocket. For hours, he's been scanning dusty tomes in search of information about Silas and the cure - he is in the position of power now and knowledge will be his best ally. He scans a paragraph, mentally deciphering ancient script as he goes, but he comes to the end of the page and finds that nothing will stick in his mind. Only her face swims in his head, Katherine's, as she begs him for trust and forgiveness. He slams the book closed, suddenly frustrated and in need of a drink. He doesn't indulge often because he prefers his mind to be as sharp as possible, but tonight he sorely needs something.

His footsteps echo loudly as he descends the marble staircase, all alone in Klaus's mansion in Mystic Falls now his family have all gone their separate ways again. Just as he is topping of his single-malt with some warm blood, a confident knock sounds at the door.

"Elena," he nods by way of greeting. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon." Why was she here? As far as he knew, only Katherine knew that he had the cure. Unless whatever scheme she'd concocted called for cluing in someone else.

"I needed to talk to you," she says, without preamble.

"By all means," he responds, stepping back a quarter-turn to clear her path.

She rocks back impatiently on her heels. "You have to invite me in. I haven't been here since I turned."

"Of course," he says, nodding. "My apologies. Please come in."

She steps through the door and crosses her arms, eyes flickering around the grand entranceway, following him as he leads her into the sitting room.

"May I offer you a drink?" he asks, gesturing towards his own waiting glass at the bar. "I found myself in need of something a little stronger today."

She nods her assent. "Thanks."

"So," he asks, regarding her closely, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I hear you have something I want. Or don't want, I suppose."

"The cure," he smirks. "So much trouble for a little vial of blood."

"You have no reason to keep it," she says accusingly, fidgeting in her seat.

"Ah, but you are wrong about that, Elena. There are many ways I could use this. I could grant my sister her greatest wish. I could free Katerina from the spectre of my brother. I could give it to Niklaus, to do as he pleases. I could kill Niklaus, although Silas is probably more worrisome," he muses. "I'm torn, truly."

"I'm low on the list then," she states.

"You do not want to become human again," he says simply. "I respect your wishes."

She exhales and seems to compose herself. "You might be the only one."

"However, today's deceit was not necessary. I hope you are not making a habit of this."

"It's nothing personal, Elijah. You know I respect you," Elena swallows as she thinks of Kol in ashes. Clearly, Klaus has not filled in Elijah on that particular caper just yet. A discussion for another day. "How long did it take you to figure out I wasn't Katherine?"

He smirks. "The moment I tasted you. You are much... sweeter than Katerina."

"You kissed me anyway."

"Forgive me - I was only trying to call your bluff. You didn't seem to object."

"No," she says, "I don't." In a flash she is straddling him on the couch, her long tresses tickling the sides of his face as she leans over him.

"Elena…" he growls a warning even as his hands rest lightly on her hips. "If you are trying to ensure that I will not use the cure on you, you have my word. I require nothing in exchange."

She makes a frustrated tutting noise. "Ugh, Elijah! Always a gentleman. Isn't it exhausting? Don't worry, I thought about this even when I was human." He is still as a statue as she presses a soft kiss below his ear, still considering his next move. Elena has changed. She is no longer the innocent, human sacrifice. She has blossomed into the doppelgänger, powerful and calculating like Katerina and Tatia before her. He meant what he said about her compassion - perhaps one day she will chose to feel again. Maybe he can help her feel a little, today.

That's settled, then.

"It would be rude of me to refuse that which is offered freely," he says finally.

He pulls her lips to his once more and kisses her chastely, letting her set the pace. He groans as she opens her mouth as their tongues touch, tentatively at first, then harder. Her fingers tangle tightly in her hair as she squirms against his hardening erection.

Elena's hands smooth down the lapels of his jacket and pause as she feels the small capsule hidden in his breast pocket. She yelps as he catches her wrist, bones snapping in his grasp. "I am quite finished being manipulated by the Petrova women, for today at least." She cries out as he releases her wrist. "Do not," he warns, "try that again."

"I'm not here to manipulate you, Elijah. I got what I came for. Now I just want to fuck you." He raises an eyebrow at her crass language. If nothing else, emotionless Elena is brutally honest.

Elena gracelessly tumbles sideways into the couch as Elijah flashes away from her, faster than the eye can see, no doubt to secure his prize somewhere safe. She exhales a shaky, frustrated breath as she awaits his return.

"Strip," she hears a rumble from the doorway behind her.

"Excuse me?" she asks, whirling around. Elijah is leaning against the door frame, sans-suit jacket, eyes combing over her appraisingly.

"Clearly, I'm calling the shots tonight, Elena. Strip or get out; the choice is yours."

She hesitates for a split second but gets up and circles the couch so she can face him before shucking her jacket, then her boots. Without a hint of embarrassment or shame, she peels off tank top and her jeans, leaving her in a matching set of black lace. Elijah unbuttons his own shirt without looking away as she unclasps her bra, revealing her breasts to him. Her dusky nipples pebble in the cool air. It is difficult to avoid comparisons with Katherine or Tatia. Elena is certainly no less beautiful than either of them. Her breasts are slightly smaller, maybe, but perkier. Elijah appreciates the variation on the theme, in any case. He longs to sink his fangs into the warm skin of her breasts and lap at her wounds as she arches beneath him. All in good time.

Elena slides her hands down her sides and hooks her thumbs into her panties.

"Ah," he chides, "allow me." In two long strides he impossibly close to her and she lets him firmly manoeuvre her so that she is leaning over the back of the couch, facing away from him.

She mewls as he runs his hands appreciatively down her soft skin, pausing to palm her breasts and then continuing down her flat stomach. One hand dips into her panties and slips easily between between her folds. "Oh god," she breathes, pushing her hips back against him for more stimulation, but Elijah deftly avoids her and withdraws his hand from between her legs.

"So wet for me, sweet Elena…" he murmurs into her ear and kisses a searing trail down her neck.

She gasps as his teeth nick her shoulder and his mouth pulls gently at the pinpricks of blood. He tears away her panties and one hand slides down her backside and he slides a finger into her wet cunt, avoiding her sensitive clit altogether. He brings his hand to his lips and samples her musk. "Would you like a taste?" he asks, offering her his slick digit. He groans headily as she sucks his finger into her mouth, tongue swirling around it, promising better uses for her pretty mouth. His cock pulses uncomfortably in his trousers, no longer happy to be ignored.

Elijah deftly undoes his zipper and pushes her back farther over the couch so that her ass waves in the air for him, pussy glistening invitingly. He wets the head of his cock by running it teasingly down her slit, brushing teasingly against her clit. She calls out his name, desperately.

"What's that, Elena?" he pauses, weeping cock in hand.

"Please," she entreats him.

"As you wish," he breathes, pushing his cock deep inside her. They moan simultaneously as Elijah pauses, admiring their slick, joined bodies. Elena, legs quivering, relishes in the feeling of fullness, the warmth of Elijah's body behind her, just out of sight but a comforting presence nonetheless.

After a moment he begins to move, pulling his cock almost all the way out and sinking back into her tight heat. His eyes roll back into his head and unbidden, his fingers tangle tightly into her hair and pull her throat to his mouth so that she is standing, back pressed to his front, hips canted where they are joined. "More," she commands, wriggling her hips against his.

He pushes her back down over the couch and slams into her in earnest. She meets him, thrust for thrust, as her hips slam back against his. He snakes one hand around her front to pinch her nipple roughly and the other to firmly rub her clit, once, twice, before she cries out loudly and convulses against him, pussy spasming around around him, nails digging into his arms wrapped around her body. He does not let up his punishing rhythm as she eggs him on, chanting his name. He groans loudly as sensation zips down his spine. Just as he is about to come he sinks his teeth into her shoulder, stars dancing in his vision as he drains her and fills her all at once.

As he slips out of her she sinks down to the ground, propped up against the back of the couch, eyes closed, mouth open, rivulets of blood drying on her breasts and shoulders. He sinks down beside her and gathers her in his arms, kissing the blood off of her as she sits bonelessly.

"Well, lovely Elena, was it all you hoped for?" he sweeps her tresses from her shoulder and kisses her there, impossibly tenderly. He wonders if finally, this Petrova might be his. Tatia, who loved his brother, Katerina, who loves only herself. It is a fool's hope, he knows, but this is his curse.

As the haze of pleasure clears from Elena's brain another familiar feeling creeps in - anxiety, as though the floodgates threaten to burst. If she could, she might cry. Yet she is trapped in the cage of Elijah's embrace and does not want to leave. He is whispering in her ear in a language that she doesn't understand. He is the tall glass of water set in front of a man dying of thirst, a pleasure and relief that can only be known by those who have experienced the worst pain and need.

This should never happen again, she knows, not if she wants to remain composed and carefree. "This won't be the last of us," he tells her, as though reading her thoughts.

After a time she extricates her limbs from his and gathers her clothing. He sees her to the door and kisses her again, hard and possessive before she goes. One day soon he will learn of her ultimate betrayal, Kol's death, and punish her or kill her. Neither thought is entirely unwelcome.

When she turns up at his door the next night he only smiles knowingly and invites her in.

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