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Afternoon Delight

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Damon’s eyes, gas-flame-blue ringed with black, stared straight into Elena’s as he kissed the back of Stefan’s shoulder, slow, loud kisses, the kind that left a wet trail. Damon’s hand curved over Stefan’s ribcage, just resting there, and even when Stefan gasped and threw his head back, Damon didn’t change his pace, didn’t break eye contact. He wasn’t speaking, but Elena could as good as hear him: This is for you. And even though she already had Stefan, even though Stefan would always be first in her heart, the thrill that went through her was more than sexual.

She should’ve been shocked when Damon eeled up and pushed Stefan’s legs apart, when he spat in his hand and rubbed the saliva around the already-shining head of his cock, when he shoved inside Stefan with a speed that made them both groan. Instead she watched as greedily as Damon was watching her.

Damon brought his hand up to cup Stefan’s jaw, turning Stefan’s head so that they could kiss. After a minute, he let Stefan go, trailing his fingers down Stefan’s chest. He was not quite breathless when he caught her eyes again and challenged, “What are you waiting for?”

Stefan, too, was watching her, lips parted and eyes hooded, as uncertain as when he’d revealed his first secret to her. She took a deep breath—gratifyingly, they both stared at her chest—and pressed herself to Stefan’s front.

Damon’s pragmatic streak was actually useful here—being naked first was much simpler when there were three of them. She hitched her leg over Stefan’s long, muscled thigh and reached down to get him into position. Stefan groaned, and then she did as she worked herself down on him, the angle just unusual enough to feel new.

“Elena,” Stefan whispered, and she tilted her head up so that they could kiss.

“Now that we’re all here,” Damon said, and thrust so that the shock was transmitted through Stefan. The rhythm he set was nothing like when she was with Stefan, but it was Stefan inside her, Stefan who was mouthing sloppily at her cheek, her eyelids, whose hands were squeezing her breasts. Elena reached down to rub at her clit, feeling Stefan big and solid against her fingers.

Damon was muttering, a filthy litany about dicks and asses and Elena’s sweet pussy, even though he still wasn’t touching her. God, he was so—She came with a tiny hiccuping noise that she’d always found embarrassing, but the way Damon reacted was worth it: speeding up, shoving Stefan further into her in a way that would’ve hurt if she hadn’t been so worked up.

Stefan gasped and his hands tightened on her just after Damon groaned, and she managed to get her hand up in time to hold on to Stefan’s hip as he arched into her and shuddered out his orgasm.

Damon was the first to pull away, rolling over onto his back. She heard him laugh, but couldn’t see anything over Stefan’s body. She blinked dazedly at Stefan, and they smiled at each other goofily as Stefan gently pulled out, careful as he always was.

Elena pushed herself up to grab for the sheet and cover her naked body—not ashamed, just chilly—but Damon clambered over Stefan to stop her. “You think I’m done here?” he asked, and that wicked grin was a lot less infuriating when he was naked. “I’m going to eat his come out of you and then I’m going to suck the taste of you off of him, and then we’re going to start all over again.”

“Oh God,” Stefan said faintly, as if he was wondering just a little late what they’d gotten themselves into.

“Why aren’t your other plans that good?” Elena wondered, giggling when Damon hissed at her, and then he was lowering his face between her legs, and worrying about the world outside the bed seemed fairly pointless.