We're All We've Got
“You’ve got to stop moving, Damon. I can’t stroke you the way I want to if you keep moving like that.”
Elena talks to Alaric because she’s afraid Stefan’s abandonment of them will cause Damon to go off the deep end... again. He agrees with her - they both know the signs of an impending Damon Bender. There’s drinking and redirection-ing, some projection and self-pity, followed up with angry outburst and the inevitable death of a human or three, most likely after his pulling his “I’m injured in the middle of the road” stunt.
A traitorous moan escapes him as he feels warm lips rough against his own. A tongue darts out from between them to lick the stray drop of bourbon on his chin and then lips settle at the crook of his neck and shoulder, worrying the flesh there with lazy, pulling sucks.
They need to clip it in the bud, before he gets as far as the killing. The other things they can handle, but it’s rough-going pulling Damon back into his humanity once he’s killed. They can’t lose him. They just can’t; they can handle the future if they have him. They have to believe they can handle the future if they have him.
When did his shirt come unbuttoned? And where the hell is his belt? But there’s hands on him, small, delicate soft hands tracing this way and that way and he’s dreamed about this. Dreams are nothing compared to the reality.
Alaric pours he and Elena a shot of whiskey (he’s the worst guardian in the world, letting her drink, but he really doesn’t think that Liz Forbes is going to find out) and can’t help the dry laugh that issues forth. “Nothing like an intervention for vampires,” he says. Elena laughs quietly because at this point anything is better than crying.
He hears the not-so-soft thud of his boots hitting the floor behind him. The thunks echo like gunshots in his mind. His socks are pulled off and he can’t even bring himself to be upset because his pants are coming off and he’s not wearing anything else underneath them and oh fuck! her lips are around his cock and her mouth is so hot and so wet.
They fight dirty when they stage it. It’s actually Elena’s idea to play on Damon’s feelings like that, but Alaric refuses to let her take credit for it. (“He’s emotionally unstable enough as it is. We really don’t need for him to know it was you,” Alaric mutters, disliking the idea but seeing its merit.) They plan it on a night when Jeremy is busy at the Grill. Elena leaves for a walk (“accidentally” forgetting her cell phone, handy-dandy stake, or even a vervain grenade) and Alaric calls Damon in a “slurred panic,” asking him to help find her because it’s getting darker outside by the minute.
He manages to get Ric out of his shirt somehow and he brings Ric’s head down to his so that he can kiss him. Elena, watching their progress, hums contentedly and Damon moans loudly into Ric’s mouth. Ric breaks the kiss only to scramble out of his pants and boxers before attacking Damon’s lips.
Damon falls for it easily; it’s a relief to know that he’s not that far gone.
The pair of them are practically naked and Elena’s still fully dressed and contentedly working his cock in her mouth. It’s very telling, that they’ve been able to corner him like this. He’s been around for over 150 years - normally he can tell when he’s been set up, but this is something different altogether.
Damon catches up to her by the cemetery and shakes her roughly (not too roughly though, never too roughly - he loves her and wants her safe and why would she take a risk like this - he’s lost Stefan he can’t lose her too) before returning to his snarky, disdainful self and berating her the entire drive back to her house. He practically shoves her into Alaric arms and is about two seconds away from giving Ric a blistering summation of how terrible of a guardian he is when he’s asked if he wants a drink.
Damon’s ready to blow and he’s starting to pump Ric’s cock in time with Elena’s mouth. Elena pulls away before he can come though and he lets out an agonized “Oh fuck why’d you stop?!” She just smiles delightedly and there’s tenderness in her and Ric’s eyes as they take him by the hands and lead him up to her room. He’s grateful for the dark and even more grateful for the two of them.
Glaring furiously at the pair of the, Damon says yes (of course he wants a drink) and wants to order Elena up to her room, but knows it won’t do any good. She’d probably just laugh and say “Be gone, Damon, you have no power here.” and then she and Rick would probably yuck it up at Damon being reduced to a pathetic go-fer. Bourbon is poured (Did Ric steal a bottle from his stash?) and alcohol is downed and somehow the three of them make it to the couch to talk about Elena’s unparalleled ability to disregard her safety.
Ric and Damon are sitting naked on her bed, fully erect and Elena is slowly stripping for the pair of them. She’s already kicked off her flip-flops downstairs and now her shirt is drawn off and she’s turning slowly for them. She stops when her back is to them and in deftly undoes the hooks of her bra, slides her arms out, and just lets it drop to the floor, sweeping it aside with a dainty bare foot.
“Elena you cannot just go and do things like this anymore. Klaus may think you’re dead but we don’t know that he won’t come back to Mystic Falls,” Damon says. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Responsible Ric?”
Elena turns around to undo her jeans and as she slides them down to reveal inch of tantalizing perfect inch of skin, it’s hell to be torn between her legs and her breasts. Then she stalks over to them, removing her lacy boy shorts as she approaches. He and Ric are wide-eyed and watching as she goes to the side of the bed they’re not on. “Come here, Damon,” she says laying back.
Ric says nothing, but takes a long sip of his of drink and tries to look ashamed of shortcomings as a guardian. “Damon’s right, Elena,” he finally manages. “That was very wrong of you.” It doesn’t really sound all that convincing, but Damon seems to be buying it at the moment.
It’s with a look of disbelief and awe that he climbs over her, covering her body with his own. “Tell me this is real,” he whispers, blue eyes gazing intensely down at her. “Please, Elena, tell me this is real.”
“It is,” she says, and then he’s kissing her. Her legs fall wide open on either side of him and he’s not so caught up in her that he doesn’t feel Ric behind him, stroking his back gently.
Elena nods. “I shouldn’t have,” Elena said. “Forgetting my phone or even a weapon like that was irresponsible. I should have been more careful.” She’s going for ‘regretful.’ She’s not sure she carries it off well enough. But at least it’s a start. “I will be more careful next time.”
He’s waited for this, waited for it for so long that he can’t believe it’s real. And it’s not like he ever expected - it’s better. It’s not about the sex, like he’d though it would be. It’s about caring. It’s about love. These two people, Elena and Ric, they love him.
Elena feels like heaven when he’s finally inside her, moving gently, savoring each moment and every pleasured gasp that issues forth from her open mouth. He can feel Ric behind him, spreading him, preparing him and he can’t help but arch back in Ric’s hands as he feels the warmed lotion being spread around.
“There isn’t going to be a next time, Elena!” Damon all but yells. His eyes are dark and he’s glaring at her. “I don’t care if I have to put bars on your windows or even have Sabrina seal you in the damn house! You’re not going to put yourself in danger like that!”
Ric sinks into him and it's been years since he's let someone do this to him. They’re moving together now, with quiet, satisfied, pleased moans and gasps. Damon reluctantly breaks his kiss with Elena to turn his head around to catch Ric’s mouth. Elena runs her hands up his chest in return and then starts to play with her own breasts, teasing her nipples.
This is really happening.
“Damon, I don’t think we need to go that far,” Ric says, ever the voice of reason. “Maybe just the bars. Just in case.”
Elena rolls her eyes, and does a very good impression of an indignant self-righteous teenager. “You said you help me!”
“And I will,” Ric insists quietly, throwing her a significant look.
“Wait a minute, help with what?” Damon asks.
Damon’s had years of experience with this sort of hedonism, but Ric and Elena are doing a damn spectacular job. Better than any he’s had, really. And he realizes that this isn’t just about them taking care of him - they need him every bit as much as he needs them. And that’s what does it in the end.
Elena gives a harsh thrust of her hips and comes fiercely with a long, throaty moan. Ric’s thrusts falter and Damon reaches back to cup the back of Ric’s head as he comes inside him. The love, the caring, the need is too great and Damon finds his own blissful release inside Elena and the three of them fall in a heap on her bed.
“I want to be able to defend myself,” Elena says determinedly. “Ric said he’d help me train and get stronger.”
Damon wants to roll his eyes but can’t. He’s a little hurt that he hasn’t been filled in on the situation. “Good luck with that,” he says, taking a drink.
The post-orgasmic haze is something he’s been a fan of ever since he’d had his first tumble back in 1860s. This one is no exception, other than the fact that it’s simply better. This is the three of them, all sweaty and naked after spectacular sex. And it’s more than that, he knows.
“We were hoping you might help,” Ric said casually. “Being the do-gooder that you are. We might even get you your own cape to wear.”
“Right,” Damon said. “Like I’d want to help with your futile little efforts to turn Scrappy here into Buffy.”
This, this is home.
“Maybe we can persuade you,” Elena says, and there’s a seductive quality to her voice he’s never heard directed at him before. She pulls the drink from his hands and sets it on the coffee table. She sits next to him - closer than she’s really ever volunteered to sit next to him (outside of his impending doom) - and with a slight nod to Ric, strokes him through his black jeans. "You've got to stop moving, Damon..."
He’s going to be okay. They’re going to be okay. They’re family now.