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Sinful Temples

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Damon sips at the coffee as it soothes over his tongue and ambles down his throat. The bite of the whiskey within it soothes over his troubled mind.

Alaric is gone.

He takes another long sip of the spiked coffee in some mixture of salute and masked grief. He's lost a friend. Best not dwell on it- best turn it into a little drinking game between Damon and his two favourite people-Damon and Damon.

Katherine is gone.

He sips, but not for as long. After all, she's been gone for years now. Decades. He contemplates this for a moment, and finishes the coffee. Now he has the bottle of whiskey. Not bourbon, but it'll have to do.

Katherine is long gone.

Take a shot, make it not hurt anymore.

Stefan hates him.

Take a shot. Take two shots, because that's his baby brother who he'd have done anything to protect. Shame they had the same taste in women...

Alaric is still gone.

It's not long before Damon's gone but not gone, the whiskey working its wonders in his brain and he can barely make out the face that's just come in from the rain.

'Damon?'

'Katherine? What're you...' He fades out before he can slur the end of his sentence.

 

Elena was prepared for a lot of things when she drove to the Salvatore house that night; half-drained sorority girls, broken glass and bourbon streaking the walls while stereo music blares; what she's not prepared for and doesn't think she ever quite will be prepared for is Damon Salvatore drunk on the couch calling her by her Doppelganger's name.

'Damon?' She repeats, shaking his arm lightly. She looks at the empty bottle on the floor next to him and sighs. He's drunk too much too fast, but the vampiric metabolism doesn't allow for sleeping things off. He'll be up and moving again in the next few hours, and she's going to have to explain what she's doing here. NOt that this is a rare occurence; her leaving her empty house to journey to his empty house, and they both wind up less empty inside by feeding off of each other's emptiness.

Man, I really need to get out more. Elena sighs as she helps the intoxicated vampire to his feet and practically carries him to his room, where he all but falls into the bed.

Damon's coming to now, and he can smell a rather odd mixture of coconut shampoo and the outside after a rain. Elena. Oh, shit. He hadn't been expecting her, hadn't been wanting her to see him like this- this vulnerable, this pathetic- but now she has and he reaches out for her hand, a look exchanged between them. Please don't leave me all alone here.

Elena walks towards the door and for a moment he's worried his eyes have conveyed the wrong message, but then she merely closes it and slips off her jeans; leaving her in her damp baggy t-shirt as she shivers and climbs into bed with him. It's not uncommon, her underneath the duvet and him resting above the covers, but this is the first time she curls this close to him.

'Damon?'

'Yeah?' Realising that it was his current love (not the dead vampire bitch who looks exactly like his current love) who carried him to bed really sobered him up. He's never been much of a lightweight anyway and alcohol simply burns a hole through him, in one ear and out the other like a mother's nagging.

'What's wrong tonight?' Elena realises this is a stupid question to ask, she's the one who drove through the rain and is now curled up in bed with her old boyfriend's goddamn brother, but it feels like it is a question that must be asked anyway.

Damon, of course, looks at her as if she's insane before he sighs and closes his eyes. 'Dumb question.'

'Tell me anyway.'

'You don't want to know.' If I tell you you'll know the truth, and the only reason you're here is because you haven't even figured it out yet.

'If you don't tell me, I'll find other ways to find out. You know I will.' This is true- Elena always finds a way to get her own way when it comes to Damon- not that he minds, but can't he have just one thing?

'You're in danger.' He sighs.

'What? I'm always in danger. That's kind of a regular part of my life now. What does that have to do with you being all-' She gestures up and down at him- 'This?'

'Alaric. Katherine. Stefan.' He's trying to find the right words but can't make eye contact. 'Three people I have loved more than anything in this world. Look at where they are now- two out of three are dead, and my brother is now loose in the country ripping people's throats out. I don't exactly have an impressive track record for keeping people safe, Elena.' Another sigh that he hates himself for letting her hear. 'Sometimes I wonder if you wouldn't be better off without me.'

She's silent for a long moment. 'People die, Damon. That's just something that happens. My parents. Ric, Stefan... No matter how we feel about a person, we have to trust that fate will work itself out in the end.' She sees Damon tense up and knows he's angry before he lets out another deep breath and looks her in the eyes for the second time that night.

'I can't lose you, though. Elena, I can't.' She doesn't know what he's doing when his hands quest under the covers where her body is, and is relieved when his hands find hers and he places a kiss to the back of it after its safe retrieval. 'I know it's right, just not right now. I know it. You know it. But what if it's never given the chance to be right- if Klaus comes back and decides to take just a bit more blood, if he comes and decides to take you on some disgusting road-trip? If-'

She's kissing him. Elena. Elena is kissing Damon. He's sure it's only to shut him up, but he's not going to argue. He's never been stupid enough to argue with a beautiful woman who is suddenly straddling him with her hands fisting his hair as if it's her only coil to mortality. Damon groans, deep in his throat, as she grinds against him in a way that is too perfect. 'Elena.'

'Shut up.'

Yeah, he's not gonna argue with that kind of logic.

Her hands are thinking on their figurative feet as they unbutton his shirt and she kisses down his neck, instinctively finding his sweet spots as if she was made to find them for him. His jeans are kicked off, along with Elena's shirt, and suddenly they're flush against each other.

Where the fuck did she learn to do that? Damon gasps as she rolls her hips perfectly, teasingly, and takes him into her hand. He has no clue how it's gotten to this point, has no clue what he said or did that lets her line him up with her most intimate entrance and sink down onto him as he curses and her fingernails sink into his chest as she begins to bounce slowly on him, his hands falling reverently to her hips.

The body is a temple, he thinks. Damon Salvatore is by no means a religious man, but this is one quote he can believe when he's looking at Elena like this, with her olive skin glowing and her hair slightly wet from the rain outside, with a look in her warm dark eyes that could mean she wants to eat him, kill him, or grip onto him and never let go. He watches the muscles of her stomach tense and relax with each rise and fall as she repeatedly impales herself on his cock, and the delicate movements of her breasts as she does so. More than a handful is a waste, he thinks and fights his trademark smirk. Her champagne-glass breasts are perfection, and he sits up slightly to kiss and suck at them as she moans his name.

Her pumps become more erratic as she nears her own completion, and Damon has to bite his lip and try to think unsexy thoughts in order to keep from coming right then and there when she leans forward and bites his neck, sucking a deep purple mark into the pale unmarred skin. He knows this signal; she's given it in the secret times when they've coupled like this before, and he 'vamps up' as his fangs unsheathe and he buries his face in her neck, drinking from her as she tightens and spasms around him and he releases then as she cries out his name like a sinful prayer, which he supposes in the temple of her body it is.

He licks at the wounds he's created, the dark mark she sucked into him already beginning to fade. They settle back onto the bed, panting and exhausted and intertwined in such a way Damon desperately hopes nothing will ever break them apart. He's surprised when it's her that breaks the silence:

'You know, it is right. And it is right now, for us. Just not for... Them.' Their friends. Her friends. The seemingly endless list of people Elena Gilbert has around her that will do anything for her, and who most certainly would not approve of what she's just done with the 'bad' Salvatore (as if there was a good one, huffs Damon internally).

He kisses the head of the girl he loves and she closes her eyes as she leans into him. 'As long as I love you, none of the rest of that matters.' His words are a mumble against her hair. He's dissapointed at her lack of response until he realises she's asleep. Damon's hardly the sleeping type on nights like tonight (he's forgotten about the state he was in when she came to him) and instead wraps his arms around her more tightly, as if she might evaporate into smoke at any moment, ripping any shred of humanity left in him with her.

The things he does for love...