Breathless (Damon/Elena) (original) (raw)

Happy birthday, Candy!

Title: Breathless
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1300
Characters/Pairings: Damon/Elena
Spoilers: goes AU in 4x13.
Summary: After Jeremy is safely tucked into his sleeping bag and Bonnie is done tying Shane to the nearest tree, Elena drags Damon to her tent as soon as she can.
A/N: Okay, a few words of explanation. Ever since I posted the first chapter of Mind Games, badboy_fangirl keeps berating me for turning something that was supposed to be a hot tent sex scene into the most miserable sex that ever miserabled ;). So I thought that rewriting it just for her would make a nice birthday surprise. Basically, I wrote a (relatively) fluffy AU to my own fic. Feel free to judge.

(Candy, you're still getting your comment!fic as soon as I can finish it, but I thought that for your birthday, a surprise would be nicer than something you know you'll get anyway :).)

Breathless

After Jeremy is safely tucked into his sleeping bag and Bonnie is done tying Shane to the nearest tree, Elena drags Damon to her tent as soon as she can.

She unzips his jacket like she was making a point, and a part of him wants to tell her to stop, to catch her hands and make her step back until his head stops spinning. Damon Salvatore knows revenge sex when he sees it, even if he isn't quite certain if Elena is so mad at him or at the world. Maybe she isn't angry with anyone in particular. Maybe she just needs to vent.

There's distance between them, distance he can almost touch when he rests his hands on her hips. His first instinct is to ask Elena to slow down, to take a deep breath and let him make it good for her, but he keeps his mouth shut; she doesn't want it good, good is not the point now.

She whimpers in pain when she takes him inside her too soon for it to be comfortable. The look of determination on her face is frightening, way too close to what he sometimes sees in the mirror, and Damon can't help himself: he reaches to touch her face, and that's when Elena bursts into tears.

They should get dressed and talk things through, that would be a sensible thing to do, but when Damon feels Elena's body become more tense and rigid with every passing minute, he knows he isn't ready for sensible. He can't bring himself to care about mind games. Elena is here with him now, raw, furious and honest, so intense he has to close his eyes for a moment to compose himself. It's real, overwhelmingly, unbelievably real, and the idiot in him wants to celebrate it (celebrate her) before things go to hell again.

He maneuvers his hips so that he slides out of her and sits up, rests his forehead on her collarbone. He can hear the noises of the camp just like all the vampires around can probably hear his every damn movement, but he tunes them out. Soon all he can hear is Elena, her ragged breath and her sobs. He lets her get it all out, puts his arms around her waist without a word so he can focus on her skin against his, her limbs wrapped around him so tightly it almost hurts.

“Please, let me,” he whispers when she stops shaking. He isn't even sure what he's asking for, but he feels that he should plead for something, and it can't just be given for free.

Slowly, as if not to spook her, he helps her out of her sweater and shirt. He has no idea what he could say to make her feel better, but this, he understands, familiar skin under his fingers and sobs resonating against his chest. Suddenly it hits him that she wants him, has wanted him, and it almost takes his breath away.

He can't find any words to apologize for doubting her, so he kisses her shoulder instead.

After a few long breaths (right now, he can only measure time in breaths) Elena shifts in his lap, pulls away a little bit. Her face is wet with tears, and, frankly, she looks quite terrible, eyes red and lips trembling, but she doesn't shy away when he looks at her.

“I don't want to talk,” she says when he touches her cheek. “Please, just... Not tonight. I don't want to talk tonight.”

She isn't angry anymore, and it scares him more than he'd like to admit. Her smile, tired and sad, looks haunting in the darkness, and Damon kisses her just to stop the panic rising in his chest. Elena responds mechanically, pulls herself closer to him and bites his lip with blunt teeth, her back so unnaturally straight Damon can't bear it. He moves his hands up to cup her face, and Elena bravely goes through the motions, deepens the kiss and rocks her hips slightly.

It's suffocating.

Finally Elena breaks the kiss, and Damon finds himself too afraid to look up. He can feel her chest vibrate a second before she starts laughing mirthlessly, and somehow it makes him laugh too. Surprisingly, Elena leans into him, her palms warm on his chest, and for the first time in a long while she feels tiny in his hands, fragile and strangely vulnerable.

“God, this is a mess,” she mutters and tries to wipe tears off her face.

Well, no argument here.

He desperately wants to make it better, wants her to let him make it better. Now would be a good time to remember everything he learned about her during the one night they spent together, the little gasps he got out of her and her muscles relaxing under his fingers, but he all he can think about is her bitter chuckle resonating in his head right now. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind, takes Elena's hand and presses his lips to her pulse point.

Next time he looks up, she's watching him curiously, mouth half-open, and okay, this is a terrible mess, but maybe, just maybe, it counts for something that they're in it together.

“Please, let me,” he repeats quietly, and Elena gives him a nod.

They both know they'll have to talk about this tomorrow, get all the difficult questions out in the open and shout about them, drag all their fears right into daylight. But right now, in the dark, he slides the straps of Elena's bra off her shoulders and starts kissing her neck.

He's still mostly dressed, apart from a few undone buttons and a strategically open fly. As she rises on her knees to make him move his mouth where she wants it, he can feel her hands reach down and fumble with his shirt, patient enough to not rip it open this time. Damon isn't even sure if Elena is turned on, and he doesn't really care, not when her tense body relaxes under his lips, not when her idle hands slide up and down his bare chest. He learned long ago that it's not always pleasure you build up.

He presses his forehead to Elena's stomach as he starts leaning forward, signaling her to lie back. She straightens her legs hesitantly, but lets his hands support her weight as she slides off his lap. It's not that easy to maneuver in a tent, but they figure it out eventually, Elena using her backpack as a pillow. Damon has a moment of self-consciousness when he realizes just how on display they've been in the flickering lights of the camp, but then Elena lets out a little moan as she shifts to open her legs again, and he doesn't even care anymore.

With his cheek resting against her inner thigh, he feels more peaceful than he's felt in ages. He probably won't be able to get her off, not after the emotional roller-coaster she's just been through, but he still gives her a long, slow lick just to feel her hips push up to meet his tongue. One of her legs is still hooked over his shoulder, and he rests in her like in a cradle. After anger, tears and desperation comes tiredness, and Damon doesn't resist when it washes over them, slows their movements and makes them close their eyes.

“I love you,” whispers Elena into the silence, and Damon, quite sure he'd say something stupid, simply gives her another kiss, draws a wide circle with his tongue and finally lets himself take a deep breath.

He isn't sure when she falls asleep.