Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (Show'verse)
Spoilers: 1.19 Miss Mystic Falls
Posted to: damon_elena, story_lottery, Kink Bingo
Prompt: #1 - joker (#25 - a cell)
Kink: Bruising or Bitemarks
Summary: Elena falls asleep in the hallway, and pulls Damon into a dream that takes an unexpected but inevitable turn.
She was standing in a bathroom.
It was stunning, opulent. Decadent. Walls clad with charcoal and cream marble tile, a fantastic mosaic floor cool under her feet; it was all overwhelmingly rich. She faced a double-sized stall shower with a three-quarter wall instead of doors, set tidily beside a tub sunken into the floor that could have seated four with enough room to stretch. The fixtures were old bronze, rubbed to a deep lustrous shine. All this luxury in a room bigger than her bedroom. As she shifted her feet, she noted that the mosaic was of a mermaid in the ocean, head thrown back sensuously as water broke around her.
"Oh," she breathed in awe. "I must be dreaming." Even as she said it, it felt right. A dream, then. At least her subconscious tastes had gone upscale. She lifted a single finger to touch the thick deep blue towels folded neatly on the heavy countertop beside her. The cloth was heavy and warm. She caught her breath, and a motion out of the corner of her eye had her spinning in place to look. She came face to face with the image of herself in a full-length antique oval mirror.
Instinctively her hand lifted to her chest. She was dressed simply in a knee-length pale linen shift, and it was dirty. So was she, as though she'd been gardening or running, or perhaps lost in more pleasurable pursuits outdoors. She blushed at the thought but smiled anyway. Her hair was loose, falling around her face in a dark curtain, and suddenly all she wanted was to make use of that incredible-looking shower; to revel in the luxury. Obviously her current state was just the excuse she needed.
She shed her dress rapidly, stripping out of bra and panties and heading for the shower with a grin of anticipation. It responded perfectly, steaming hot water pouring out of the ceiling in heavy sheets like a controlled waterfall. She giggled at it and stepped in unhesitatingly, reaching for the soap. It had a light spicy scent that niggled at her memory. Suddenly the answer came to her and she slammed it back into place, annoyance arrowing through her.
"Damon," she said furiously.
"Yes?" The smooth voice came from the door to the bathroom, and she shrieked and jumped, huddling closer to the concealing shower wall.
"Jesus! Dam... You!" She spluttered as the water splashed against her face, blocking her view for a few precious seconds. Finally she stopped coughing and found a lever that switched the shower to standard jets. She blinked water out of her eyes to glare at him.
"So it seems." He wasn't even looking at her, the bastard, instead wandering the room with that hands-on curiosity he always seemed to bring with him to private places. "I have to say, Elena, you have impeccable taste." He slanted her a sly look and a sideways grin. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Elena grabbed hold of her temper with an effort. "Why are you here, Damon?" She asked through gritted teeth.
He shrugged with one shoulder, examining a bronzed light fixture closely. "You called, I came," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the fact he was facing away from her. "Haven't we been over this before?" The glance he gave her over his shoulder was wicked.
"I meant, why am I here," she corrected. She was starting to get cold.
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
"I thought the vervain meant you can't compel me," she explained, trying for the same level of casual he was pulling off so effortlessly. "Can't get into my head."
He turned from the apparently fascinating tiles, leaning back against the wall and kicking one booted foot over the other. He crossed his arms. The light played against the planes of his face, and his beauty struck her as it always did. She had to close her eyes briefly to regain her balance. "I can't," he said lightly. "Doesn't stop you from getting into mine, though." He cocked his head at her. "So I suppose the real question is why am I here, isn't it?"
Elena's breath caught. "I'm in your head?" she demanded, her throat tight. "How did I do that?"
Damon shrugged again. "Dunno. Maybe when I force-fed you my blood some sort of a link was forged." He grinned. "I can't say I mind. You really do take me to the nicest places." A blink of the eye later he was standing right there, his nose inches away from hers. Only the wall separated his body from hers. "But," he breathed, "Never fear. Now that I'm here, I know just what to do."
Another blink, and the electric lights on the walls changed to flickering torches. The overhead cascade turned back on, pouring water over her at just the right temperature. Despite herself she gasped at the sensation. Damon's eyes dilated at her reaction, and he drew a breath that was ever so slightly uneven.
"You know," he said, long fingers lifting to the buttons of his shirt and deftly undoing the first. "I just realised," he lifted an eyebrow at her mockingly, "that I haven't had my shower yet. How remiss of me."
"We are not sharing a naked shower, Damon," Elena told him firmly, ignoring how the idea made her stomach clench. The way his eyes half-closed told her he read her reaction anyway.
"Ok," he agreed easily enough, stepping back. His next breath was against the back of her neck. "How about this, then?"
She spun around, noting half-frantically that she was now in an incredibly brief bikini, made of a black material that clung but still ... barely ... maintained her modesty. Damon stood under the deluge, blinking at her through water-spiked black lashes. He'd shed his shirt but was still dressed in black jeans. Automatically she lifted her hands to his chest to hold him back. The slick skin under her fingers held a heat she knew wasn't real, was borrowed from the water. She stared into Damon's eyes from a foot away, caught in their intensity and trying desperately to remember that this was Damon for Christ's sake, and that he was incredibly dangerous to play with. There was no way this would work, there was no way, and she loved Stefan...
"Jesus, Elena," Damon told her as the falling water shifted into something closer to a gentle summer rain. "It's a dream. No one can hold it against you. Live a little!" He slid one muscled forearm behind her back to squeeze her close, leaned forward that last distance and kissed her.
So, that's what sin tastes like, she thought wildly as his lips moved against hers, coaxing her into opening for his tongue. Like whisky and copper and something spicy and addicting, something she couldn't name but knew to her soul she should be avoiding. Still, feeling the quiver of his stomach against hers, she couldn't bring herself to stop or care. Her hands slid up his chest, turning to fist into his hair as she moved to get closer. His arm tensed around her waist before he lifted her and turned them both, bracing her against the wall. His tongue licked into her mouth, surprisingly delicate in his demand for more. She gave it to him, wrapping her legs around his waist for security and because she wanted to get closer, damn it. She needed to be closer.
He tore his mouth free, nipping his way along her jaw and down her neck, hesitating over the pulse thrumming there before moving down to her collarbone. She dragged him back up by her hand in his hair. "Damon," she managed to gasp out.
"Elena," he replied, deliberately licking a stripe of water along the line of her bikini top, eyes never leaving hers. The heat in them made her shiver.
"Don't feed on me," she said, closing her eyes.
"It's a dream," he reminded her again. "If I bit you, it wouldn't be real." He rolled his hips against hers, dragging deep groans from them both. "No more than this would be."
"It would be real enough," she managed to grit out.
He lifted his head to look at her fully. His lips were swollen from kissing, his eyes faded to silver by the torchlight. "All right," he said slowly. "No teeth for us." He bent his head back to her breast, capturing the erect nipple through the wet black cloth and giving it a hard pull with his lips.
She bucked against him, but managed to bring his head back up. He blinked at her impatiently, widening his eyes so obviously to show his attention that it made her laugh. "I didn't say that," she told him.
It took only a split second for him to understand. "Ok," he said challengingly. "Go for it." He put his nose right to the tip of hers, showing his teeth. "Bite me."
She slid her nose along the side of his, dragging the very tip of her tongue along the line of his jaw. He waited statue-still, but she could feel the tremble start in his arms as she got closer to his neck, to that juncture of throat and shoulder that always smelled so good and felt so perfect under her mouth. She closed her teeth teasingly on his jawbone, licked his ear. The vibration under her hands grew. She took it slow, licking careful, deliberate little flicks along the big tendon of his neck. Despite the water sluicing down it tasted like him, and she found herself going even slower to savour the taste.
Damon's breath was coming in short gasps, and the tremors had grown to outright shaking with the effort of holding himself in check. His eyes were closed, his lips parted and his face tight with concentration. She wriggled closer, and then set her teeth into the side of his throat.
The noise he made was indescribable, something between a groan and a shout. His whole body shuddered in her arms, twisting helplessly to get closer, his fingers tightening against her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
She squeezed hard, though not hard enough to actually break the skin even in this dream. She placed her tongue against the thick thrum of his pulse, and sucked as hard as she could.
Damon's knees buckled, and he dropped them both sideways to one knee. His forehead fell to her shoulder, his arms tightening to the edge of painful without tipping over into too much. His breathing came out in ragged gasps in time to her sucks on his neck. "Elena," he muttered thickly. "Oh, God... Elena." She pulled him closer; ground her hips against his to line up his erection with the perfect place to send her over the edge...
A heavy thud brought her awake with a start, still flushed and aching on the edge of orgasm. Her eyes snapped open and met Damon's also blinking awake. He looked ... shaken.
"What the hell just happened?" She demanded, as quietly as she could.
Damon's face dropped into his perfect, expressionless mask. "I have no idea what you mean," he said.
"The dream," she hissed, mindful of Stefan likely listening only a steel door away.
Damon's face tightened even more. "I. Don't. Know. What. You. Mean." He enunciated clearly. He stood carefully. "I'm going to go change my clothes. I'll bring you something to eat, and to wear."
"Elena," Stefan called weakly from inside his prison. Immediately she went to the barred window. Damon took the opportunity to leave.
"I'm here," she said.
"Be careful," he gritted out, his eyes closed. "Damon - he can't be trusted. Be very careful."
"I will," she said. "Rest now. I'll be here."
She sank back down with her back against the wall, staring at the door to Stefan's cell broodingly. She meant it, she would be careful of Damon.
But now, she had the feeling that she also had to be careful of her.