lookedafter | dancing: for the_bad

Entry tags:

damon

dancing: for the_bad_brother

It's been two weeks since she's arrived in Darrow and Elena can already tell that being put on forced house arrest is creating a little bit of tension between her and Damon. She's reluctantly agreed to drink from the vein, but only because when she'd tried to do it from a blood bag, she'd gotten sick on it and made a mess everywhere, ruining her clothes. She'd had to scrub the blood out of the tiles in the apartment for hours afterwards. It feels like she's been pretty limited, choice-wise. Add that to the part where she's still lacking a daylight ring and she's running outside the minute it gets dark just to feel like she can breathe again.

It's why, when Damon suggests they go out tonight, she doesn't hesitate. She does offer him a questioning look when he tells her to dress up a little the day before, but obliges on the night of. As they pull up to the nightclub in his car, she figures it out.

"How did you find this place?" she asks, swiveling in the front seat to face him before lifting a hand. "You know what? I promised I wouldn't ask questions tonight," she adds, off his look, "so this is me, throwing that question away. No questions. I'm just going to do things." Doing instead of thinking sounds like a superior idea at the moment, especially since there are a lot of things she's done in the past week that she'd rather not think about.

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She turns, swiveling slowly to face away from him as she presses back against his chest, the movement of her hips powered by the beat she finds in the music and the way he moves against her, unabashedly grinding against him. She lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck, her other hand slipping into his and drawing his arm around her as the lights of the club flash behind her eyelids.

Damon groaned, quite willing to wrap his arm around her waist and keep her body pinned against his. He dipped his head, his lips finding her neck and brushing light, teasing kisses over her skin, her taste and smell more intoxicating than any of the alcohol-soaked blood he'd drank tonight.

She isn't thinking with her mind - the unconscious instincts of her body are taking over, and when he brushes his lips against her neck she arches into the contact, leaning into him as his arm slides over her waist to keep her pressed flush against him. She can smell blood in the air, the metallic scent making her eyes darken with hunger, lust and the need to feed rising up to practically ooze out of her skin.

She gazes out at the rest of them, human bodies crushed together in a frenzy of movement, eyes glazing over as she moves against Damon, feels him move back in return.

If he'd known what she'd be like on a blood high, he would have brought her here sooner. This was everything he'd wanted since...well, for a very long time. He bared his fangs, dragging them lightly over her neck, the thought of sharing blood with her making him hard as he swayed against her, letting the music move him, letting instinct and the myriad hungers he was feeling dictate his every move.

The sensation of his fangs, twin points dragging just lightly across her neck for her to feel it without breaking the skin, make her gasp - a sound she's almost certain he can hear above the loud thump of the club music. Somewhere, faintly, her brain registers the press of his body and the nudge of his arousal against her, but she doesn't dwell in it, letting her hips undulate slowly in a wave.

It was a good thing he was immortal, otherwise he'd be worried she was going to kill him. He groaned again, whispering against her skin, "You're driving me crazy, Elena." It was all he could do not to drag her off to some dark corner of the club and seduce her--or at least share blood with her.

Of course, they could do that right here. He knew she could hear him, so he murmured, "Let me taste you. Please, God..." His fangs caressed her throat again, a little more firmly.

Her eyes are dark as she opens them, twin pools of black in the shadows of the club. Among the other people dancing they just look like another couple immersed in each other, and no one is bothering to look too closely at them. She can still taste blood when she licks her lips, and the insistent scrape of his fangs draws her closer to him with a whimper she can't mask.

"Damon," she gasps, winding her arm back to let her fingers cup the back of his head, urging him to her neck without any more words.

That was all the invitation Damon needed. He sank his teeth into her flesh, moaning quietly as the heady taste of her blood filled his mouth, both of his arms wrapping tightly about her waist, keeping her clutched to him as he drank from her, slowly, gently.

She closes her eyes, losing herself to sensation, unable to stop the sound that tears itself from her lips, an unrepentant moan.

There's something about this that feels even more intimate than if they were doing more; the pull of his lips at her neck almost makes her legs buckle, and she leans into him for support.

Damon was beyond coherent thought, lost in sensation and emotion as he loosened one arm from her waist, pressing his wrist to her lips as he kept drinking, alternating swipes of his tongue with sharp bites to reopen the wounds as they healed themselves. There was something incredibly arousing about sharing this intimacy with her in the middle of a sea of humanity, and he didn't want it to end.

She can feel her skin drawing closed to heal before he bites into her again, re-opening the twin wounds, and the soreness isn't unbearable but actually - feels good, that lingering ache that seems to pulse in time with the slower heartbeat.

His wrist grazes her lips and she lashes out before thinking, sinking her teeth into his flesh and nearly buckling again when the tang of his blood hits her tongue. She feeds slowly, gradually, eager but not forceful, almost gently as she sways in his hold.

Damon staggered a little as she sucked at his wrist, drinking from him as he took from her, a low groan vibrating against her skin. She didn't know what this meant, he knew, but he didn't care. The intimacy of the moment was all he'd wanted for so long, and he could pretend it was real for a little while. There was no Stefan here to punch him, no Bonnie to give her disapproving looks: there was just the two of them, alone in the middle of the group of swaying, grinding clubgoers.

She feels connected to him in a way she never has before, even moreso than when they'd kissed on that night, stealing the moment in the semi-darkness. There's no one here to break them up now, no one here to interrupt them, but she eases off eventually, gently licking at the twin punctures on his wrist to let them seal closed.

She keeps her eyes shut, lingering still against him, her body loose and heavy with relaxation, desire and blood stoking a fire low in her belly.

Damon didn't want the moment to end, but as she gentled her mouth on his wrist he did the same on her neck with a quiet sigh. He lowered his wrist, his arms wrapped around her waist again, holding her close as he swayed gently with the music, eyes closed, just riding the wave of sensation still coursing through him, the high of blood sharing, the giddiness of drinking from the drunken clubbers.

The song ends only to fade into another, and Elena slowly swivels to face him, her eyes dark and seeking as she lifts a hand to rest it against his cheek, gently caressing his face.

She feels more attuned to him now, if that's even possible, and she knows she doesn't need to say her thanks out loud for him to understand it in her gaze.

Damon slowly opened his eyes as she moved, as her hand touched his face. He watched her face for a long moment, looking almost dazed, and then leaned in to kiss her softly, his hands sliding down to rest on her hips.

She lifts her eyes to his face, her expression a cloud of emotions, and when he tips his head down to hers she finds herself rising to meet him before she can stop herself, lips grazing over his.

It's a soft kiss in contrast to everything they've just done, and she doesn't move to deepen it, simply enjoying the innocence of it as she closes her eyes.

There was so much more Damon wanted, and if it was anyone else he would just try to take it. This was Elena, though, and that made all of it...complicated. So he just let the kiss linger a little longer and then pulled back with a soft sigh, raising a hand to gently tuck her hair behind her ear as he flashed a crooked smile.

"Ready for more, or have you had enough?" he asked softly, knowing she could hear him and also knowing she could take that question more than one way. How she did take it would tell him a lot.

"I - I think I'm ready," she murmurs, glancing from his face to the rest of the club, her eyes darkening slightly as she tries to find a pulse to fixate on. It's a little overwhelming here when everyone's heart is going haywire; she's having a hard time zeroing in on just one.

She's still ever aware of Damon, though, and his presence beside her. The space between their bodies feels infinite after the depth of that kiss.

Damon smiled, pushing down any disappointment he was feeling. "Go get 'em, tiger," he encouraged teasingly, touching the small of her back because he couldn't quite keep his hands off of her.

She starts to move, and then glances back over her shoulder at him, confidence waning in the wake of her uncertainty.

"Don't - you won't go anywhere, right?" she asks, reaching out to briefly slip a hand into his.

Damon shook his head, squeezing her hand encouragingly. "I'll be right here." Or in the general vicinity at least--if she was going to feed again, so was he.

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dancing: for the_bad_brother

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