Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/198733.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_Vampire_Diaries
  Relationship:
      Elena_Gilbert/Damon_Salvatore
  Character:
      Damon_Salvatore, Elena_Gilbert, Stefan_Salvatore
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-04-16 Words: 3524
****** Come to the Call ******
by persephone20
Summary
     This is what happens when someone represses what they really feel for
     too long.
Notes
     As always, to
     [[info]]
coquilleon. The mood of this was something that was based from something she
sent to me in another fandom. :D
This wasn’t the first time she’d gone to him. That she’d gotten away with it
last time had only led her towards promises to herself that she would never do
those things again; that she would be grateful for every second that she had
with Stefan; that she would never again yearn for his brother.
But all of those promises inside of her head had only lead to one thing: a
constant awareness of Damon. She couldn’t stop visiting the boarding house
because that was where Stefan lived and, without telling him what had gone on
between her and Damon, she had no reason to want to avoid him. Damon and Stefan
were getting along better now than they’d gotten along since Katherine had
disappeared and they’d both become vampires. In the face of that, what were a
few salacious looks from Damon when they both knew Stefan wasn’t looking.
It was one of those looks that started Elena’s discomfort this time. She wasn’t
able to relax in the boarding house, merely present the facade of comfort and
hope Stefan wouldn’t notice the difference. Damon noticed the difference, but
Damon was conscious of Elena in ways wasn’t. He knew the exact amount of pain
he would inflict upon her before enjoyment turned to upset. He knew just how
much blood could be taken from her before it would start to impair her ability
to function in any way outside of their private jaunts. But, most importantly,
he knew the way she felt about herself. About Katherine. About the brothers.
It had taken Katherine coming out of the tomb to show Elena how much like her
Elena had become. Manipulating the two brothers so that she might get her own
way. Manipulating Damon so that she might more easily keep not only herself but
her own loved ones out of danger, even while knowing that Damon cared nothing
for the majority of the Mystic Falls townspeople, but would move heaven and
earth for someone he loved.
In realising the self-loathing growing within Elena, Damon had suddenly found
the upper hand. Considering the way that she had used him in the months up to
this realisation, Damon found no qualms in treating her with the same
manipulation.
“Stop it,” Elena hissed, now. Damon only raised his eyebrows.
“Stop what?” Damon asked innocently, knowing that Elena couldn’t say anything,
not right now with Stefan just upstairs and well within hearing distance of
their conversation should he listen in.
Elena shook her head and focused further on the book she’d been reading. She
couldn’t, though. Although Damon returned to the respectful older brother as
Stefan returned, Elena just couldn’t stay there. She pleaded illness to Stefan,
who looked dutifully concerned when he asked if she wanted him to drive her
home.
“I need fresh air,” Elena replied, and left.
She hadn’t lied about that need. Nor did she go straight to her house. Instead,
she found herself wandering a similar path to the one that had first led her to
this mess with Damon.
“Please,” she whispered, just under her breath and genuinely hoping there was
no one out there to hear her call.
The wind blew the branches of trees above her head and Elena felt the coolness
of it against her skin. It was refreshing. Out here, she felt like she could
breathe again. Just for a few minutes, she didn’t have to mediate between all
the bullshit politics and supernatural problems going on in Mystic Falls. She
wasn’t completely successful in shutting down her brain, but she knew only one
way to do that.
“And why should I come to the call?”
Elena swallowed. She didn’t need to see him to know he was there, lurking,
always seeming within range of her words and thoughts at her lowest moments.
“Because I love you,” she said softly. It was true. She’d known it for months.
She loved both brothers, but only one of them knew.
“And yet you pretend otherwise. Always pretending, Elena.” Damon came out of
the shadows that had cloaked him. His tongue made ‘tsking’ noises in his mouth,
and he shook his head. “Not a particularly desirable quality in a young lady.”
Elena’s lips twitched a smile, but it was without mirth. “Since when do you
care about desirable qualities in young ladies?”
Damon swooped close to her, faster than her eye could follow. “I care about
them in you,” he told her, and she knew it was true. If he had his wish, Stefan
would know, just as Damon knew, about Elena’s feelings for both of them. It
didn’t seem to matter to him if she had them both. She didn’t know why he
hadn’t told Stefan himself.
There was pain in her eyes when she looked at him. He was immobile, his eyes
and face without obvious emotion. She envied him that, the vampire ability to
shut off emotions. Everything that she was doing lately seemed to be making
things worse for herself but she knew that wouldn’t change what she was about
to say.
“Take me home.”
He did.
At her house, the lights were all out. They didn’t arrive through the front
door. Just like last time, Damon carried her in his arms, up to the second-
storey window of her room. Unlike last time—which had been unpremeditated,
beginning in a conversation in her room and ending in him leaving before she
woke up—there was an awkwardness between them once they stood together in her
room. This time, she was asking for this, knowing exactly what this was,
knowing too that, of the two of them, she was the one with the moral compass.
Damon didn’t take his eyes off her, even after she let go of him to walk across
the floor of her room.
“I... need to get changed.” She plucked at the tank top she was wearing, as if
this garment of clothing were somehow responsible for the situation she found
herself in. No sooner had she started to turn away did she hear his voice
beside her.
“No.”
He was still standing on the other side of the room, between her window and
chest of drawers. Although he could have crossed the room in a flash, he made
no move to physically restrain her or coerce her to his will. His voice did
that for him.
Reflexively, Elena’s hand shifted to the locket containing vervain that she
wore, watched Damon’s eyes do the same. When his eyes returned to hers, there
was a challenging quality to them. Both of them knew this could not be blamed
on his Compelling her.
Still, she didn’t go to the bathroom. Her feet remained rooted to the floor
because he had denied her running away from him. Damon’s lip lifted, though no
sign of that smile reached his eyes. He held out a hand.
“Come back to me.”
Dipping her head deferentially, Elena once more crossed the carpet of her room.
When she reached him once again, Damon’s extended a finger underneath her chin
and forced her to look back up to him. He let that moment draw out between them
a moment, then said, “I want you to look at me while I’m here. I’ll not have
you imagining I’m Stefan.”
Elena opened her mouth to reply that she would never imagine him as Stefan
while he was with her, but he might have thought her about to say something
else, for the look in his eyes quelled her words before they came to her lips.
So subdued, Elena merely nodded her head, ensuing that her eyes did not skate
away from Damon’s again as she did so.
“Good,” he murmured, before drawing his finger from her jaw.
Taking that as permission, Elena backed up from him to sit down on the bed. The
last time, he had taken his time with her, doing things that she’d never
imagined before, things that she’d certainly not shared with Stefan, or Matt.
She’d figured, when they’d come here tonight, that he would shut her brain up
in the same way as he had before. That’s what she’d wanted. She’d been so
tensed up since then that...
But Damon was shaking his head, and taking his shirt off, shrugging his
shoulders and letting the fabric shift down the muscles of his arms. Elena
couldn’t take her eyes off him and, when she returned her gaze from his arms to
his eyes, she swore she saw amusement then.
“This time, it’s your turn,” he told her. Elena’s brow furrowed with confusion,
and Damon stepped forward.
Lifting her hand in his, Damon brought her hand to his chest, the sides of his
neck, all the time drinking in the expressions on her features. He knew he was
a gorgeous man, yet it seemed to bring him a special sort of pleasure to have
her enjoying him in this way. Elena decided to make the most of this
opportunity. Although the guilt at what she was doing remained in her, she
couldn’t quite stop herself.
The first time she tweaked his nipple, he gasped. His fingers, running up and
down her arms at that time, tightened around her upper arms, nails digging into
the flesh and causing her to lean forward into him. His eyes flashed with
desire at this, and Elena knew she needed to be more gradual with the build up.
The second time her finger tips flicked over his nipple, he growled, and took
her lips with his. There was a savagery to him, one that didn’t surprise her,
but that he’d kept restrained on their last time doing this or, in all their
interactions previous, actually. The sight and sensation of his savagery on the
surface got rid of all her thoughts, until there was only him, only this kiss,
only his fingers biting into the soft skin of her arms, only the moistness
gathering between her legs. She was gasping for air when he finally released
her, almost swooning when he reinstated the distance between them. But he was
not a patient man. When she continued to merely hold onto him for support, and
didn’t progress on her exploration, Damon informed her in no uncertain terms
that this would not be acceptable.
“What did I say before?” he demanded.
“This time... it’s my turn,” Elena murmured, taking a deep breath, and running
her fingers up and down the sides of his torso. Many others would have been
ticklish. Damon wasn’t. There also wasn’t a lot of excess skin around the
muscles on his abdomen. Idly, Elena wondered whether this was just something
that happened when one became a vampire, or whether her boys worked out.
Her boys. A spike of guilt ran through her at that thought. That had been the
way Katherine had talked about them not long ago.
“I see my boys haven’t changed in one hundred or so years. They’ve merely
changed the target of their affections.”
Damon grabbing both of her hands and restraining them painfully behind her
shoulder blades snapped her attention far away from anything Katherine had ever
said.
“We’re not doing this if you’re not paying any attention,” he growled, as Elena
tried in vain to stretch herself into a position where the angle of her arms
wasn’t quite so awful. Damon’s face came right close to hers and Elena stopped
struggling. “Have I got your attention now?” he asked her.
“Yes,” Elena gasped.
With one hand, Damon tore off the tank top she’d been wearing, tossing it on
the floor without any further regard. There was a slight burning sensation
against the top of both of her shoulders, as of carpet burn, where the fabric
had pulled before it had ripped, but Damon’s grip of her arms was still
demanding more attention.
In direct juxtaposition to the pain he was inflicting, Damon’s finger nails ran
feather soft over the skin of her torso, tracing the line of the bra she was
wearing, and dipping so low as to the waist line of her pants, but never
actually touching anywhere she wanted to be touched. Straining towards his
hands only caused more discomfort for her.
“You asked me here tonight,” Damon reminded her from between gritted teeth,
even as his fingers were tender against her. Elena thought a woman could become
addicted to such positive and negative reinforcements from someone like Damon.
She wondered, because he must have done this sort of thing before.
“I did!” she was eager to concur, making sure not to break eye contact with him
lest he take further offence.
Damon nodded once, as though in satisfaction. His eyes drooped to her breasts.
Undeniably pronounced just because of the angle of her arms, her breasts just
seemed to be begging for the sort of attention they would get from Damon. Elena
inwardly cringed in shame at the image of herself he must be seeing and yet, at
that combination of shame and Damon’s attention, she could feel her own nipples
reacting. The sensation of the fabric of her bra only seemed to make things
worse. The smell of her own arousal floated up to her nose, so she knew he must
have been able to smell it for quite some time.
Damon’s eyes eventually returned to hers, and he seemed to be waiting for
something. Something like begging for him to let go of her hands, she was sure.
There had been a lot of begging on her part the last time this had happened and
yet, perversely, Elena was not ready to beg this early in the night. Her pride
would not allow it. She stared defiantly into his eyes.
The next thing she knew, the gentle fingers that had been caressing her torso
turned to her breasts and gave the left nipple a violent squeeze. Elena made a
loud noise between a gasp and a moan, which had Damon’s whole hand palm and dig
into her breast.
“Shh,” Damon was quick to tell her. “Wouldn’t want to wake the family unit.”
‘Wouldn’t want to’ turned out to have a completely different motivation with
his eyes upon her. Elena wouldn’t want to wake them because that would make
Damon angry with her, not because of the compromising position they might find
her in. Silently, Elena nodded her head twice.
“That’s a good girl,” Damon said, removing that hand from her now throbbing
breast. Closing her eyes, Elena tried to breathe in and out deeply and ride
through the pain. But Damon was not finished with her yet.
After one further yank of her arms, Damon let them go. Elena winced as she
moved her arms and tried to ease the tension between her shoulder blades, this
time without making any sound.
“I believe I told you what I wanted you to be doing,” Damon told her, his
deadly soft voice backed by the narrowness of his eyes.
Trying to ignore the soreness of her limbs, Elena reached out to Damon once
more, aware that this time, without her tank top or his shirt, there was very
little separating the two of them. Her heart fluttered a little at that. The
last time, she’d been the only one wearing very little by the end. This time
felt... different, somehow. Once again, shame and guilt reared their ugly
heads, but Elena couldn’t pay attention to them this time. The last two rounds
of punishment had been successful in what both Damon and Elena had wanted out
of tonight: she became very single-minded about the task Damon had set her.
There was only so much timid touching of Damon’s chest and, by the end of it,
Damon was looking as though he was about to call foul on her carrying out his
order. Both of his nipples were very erect—much like she imagined her own to
be—and they were easy targets as Elena leaned forward to them. The left one she
kissed, gently, not sure of her welcome. The right, she bit lightly between her
teeth, and felt Damon’s deft fingers undoing the bra that was the only barrier
left between their top halves.
Elena let go of Damon’s nipple slowly, and Damon asserted gentle pressure
against her shoulders, just daring her to argue against him. When his mouth
broke the skin of her breast and began suckling not just nipple, but blood,
Elena was not surprised. In fact, her eyes rolled back in her head, while her
arms hung loosely around him, as she lost herself in the sensation. The
connection, the desire, between them was never quite so much as when he was
taking her blood. It was at these times most of all that she realised she could
not give this up. Stefan too took blood from her, but not like this. With him,
it was all about control, making sure he didn’t take too much, making sure she
was alright, making sure he was alright. But with Damon...
With Damon, it was like everything else he did. It was full hearted, and it was
passion, and it was need. Elena’s arms tightened around him at that because, on
this primal level, they both needed each other.
Damon lifted his head and, through her haze, Elena lifted a hand up to wipe
away the blood that had fallen to the side of his mouth. In a sort of thanks,
he licked her finger, then took it inside his mouth to bite down on it, gently,
because his fangs and the veins around his eyes were still out.
She would never pressure on him to speak of this need that lay between them.
She had learned her lesson and learned it well. There would be no further
attempting, from Elena, to manipulate Damon into being something that he
wasn’t. In her clearer moments, she was squared with this idea. Sometimes, she
even wished she could have met him first and, in those moments, when she
realised how unfair that was, the self-loathing came rushing back because it
wasn’t Stefan’s fault that all of this was so complicated.
“Elena.”
The softness to Damon’s voice surprised her. She realised that she’d
accidentally looked away from him again and, as her eyes darted back to his,
she was really surprised by the softness with which he’d said her name. But
there was that coolness to his face again, and Elena realised he could have
been feeling anything behind that face of his, and she wouldn’t have known it.
“I’m going to go. We shouldn’t do this.”
And then Elena wondered whether it was there in his words, or whether she was
just imagining the baggage behind those words that seemed to be him saying he
didn’t want her to be doing this because it was upsetting her. That, maybe, he
didn’t want this upper hand that he seemed to have found.
“No, stay.” And if the loathing hit her with force, she thought, if she was
already damned, she may as well go all the way. Then, she decided to open
herself up to him in a way she hadn’t done before. “I need you.”
Damon came at her then, all previous commands of what he had wanted her to do
to him gone for that moment. He touched her all over, relishing again in the
feeling of her breast, treating the one he’d handled so roughly with deference,
despite Elena’s pushing him to sate the craving she had for him to touch her
there, touch her everywhere.
He was sliding her pants over her hips before that ugly feeling filled her
again, feeding into her arousal as everything was feeding into her arousal.
She’d regret parts of this later she knew but, for now, she flew defiantly into
this action she had now committed to.
Afterwards, as Elena was pulling her night clothes on, they were just more
memories and mental images to be used to torture her the next time she was in
the boarding house with Stefan. She wondered whether Damon’s suggestive looks
would continue, whether they would make her uncomfortable next time. She
wondered whether she would tell Stefan, whether she would tell even Katherine,
the next time one of them said something and all of her words poured out with
her guilt.
She wondered too how much she was hurting Damon, whether she was just
manipulating him in a new way, as he pulled on his own clothes and looked over
his shoulder at her by the window. He didn’t say any words, and her words of
love and need had already been said in the moment. She could think of nothing
to say now, as she sat on the bed that smelled like both of them, his and her
juices still sticky and moist on the inside of her thighs.
She was just a 17 year old girl, suffering with 17 year old problems, and she
wondered how she was supposed to be able to do any better than the several
hundred year old vampire she just happened to look like.
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