On Sticking One's Neck Out (Vampire Diaries, Damon/Elena/mild R)

[darklove-zorg.livejournal.com]

Title: On Sticking One's Neck Out
Author: darklove_zorg
Rating: mild R, if that
Warnings: possible spoilers
Word count:
Summary: It seems that Damon has an obsession for necks, but is that a general fetish, or is it aimed at someone in particular?
A/N: March 8/The Vampire Diaries by LJ. Smith, Elena/Damon: Neck fetishization (nape of the neck, throat, hickeys, etc) - Now that she's a vamp, there are so many possibilities.



A bored vampire is a creative vampire.

Damon Salvatore was very bored, ergo his creativity level began to soar. He "acquired" a sketchbook from a shop in Fell's Church - his quaint way of saying he "persuaded" a young clerk through his very strong powers of compulsion to let him have it at a 100% discount - and he took it to the cemetery, seeking a quiet spot in which to sketch. Why the cemetery? Why not? It was a private joke of his own - to be surrounded by so much death and to be so very undead himself, being older than most of the inhabitants of this local yokel churchyard. And yet there was something that drew him here, to this place, although he didn't take the time to analyse what that something was.

He had his Ipod with him - let no one say that Damon Salvatore did not embrace the time in which he lived - ear buds in place, music set on random shuffle. He had rather eclectic taste in his tunes, which ran the gamut from classical to modern, and all points in between. Some days he felt as if the Ipod sensed his mood, and reacted accordingly, a theory he had never expostulated before his brother Stefan. Stefan was too thickheaded and practical to appreciate such an ethereal concept, and he really didn't care to try to explain it to him. Damon was not much of one for patience. It bored him.

Except when it came to Katherine. But that was not by any choice of his own. He'd been forced to learn patience when it came to her, it was simply a necessity.

A new song began. Seether. Fine Again. Damon had to smile at the irony of it. Yes, he would be fine again. One day... one day..... He could wait many days for that one day.... for his Katherine to be returned to him. But, in the meantime, there was her doppelganger. His Elena. Alright, technically, she was Stefan's Elena, if you wanted to be technical, but who the hell really did? Besides, things had changed now. In a very interesting way. For as long as it lasted, anyway.

He glanced down at the paper he had been aimlessly drawing upon. Maybe not so aimless. The graceful curves he had penciled in began to coalesce into a form, more than a form it was a neck - a lot of necks.... graceful, alluring necks... pale, swanlike necks... glistening, beckoning necks... all of them belonging to Elena Gilbert. He'd know that throat anywhere. He'd like to get to know it better. To explore it with his lips, his tongue, his teeth - to taste her sweet skin as he knew his brother undoubtedly had. But that was before.... what had occurred..... And it wasn't as if they'd never shared a girl before, right?

His hand began to layer those luscious necks thickly upon the page, filling the paper with the nape of her neck, her slender throat, the hollow space where it joined with her enchanting shoulder, the soft spot beneath her jaw, and as he finished one page, he heatedly flipped it for a clean sheet and began the process all over again. By the second page he had added a new element - lips, which bore more than a faint resemblance to his own, lips which caressed and teased and kissed. By the third page, there were teeth, and not just ordinary teeth but fanged teeth - again his own. As well as a questing tongue.

He was unaware of the passage of time, caught up in his occupation, his concentration upon his task most intense. Until a shadow fell upon the sketchbook, and he glanced up in a mixture of irritation and annoyance to mask the fact that he had not noticed her approach, although he should have. He should have expected it, as drawn to him as she was. As she should be. After all, he was Damon Salvatore, hottest thing going in Fell's Church. Even if that wasn't saying a whole lot.

"Elena!" he greeted her with one of his more brilliant smiles, even as he glanced around her with heavylidded eyes. "What, no Prince Charming? Has he put you on the vampire work-release program, given you time off for good behaviour?" He moved to put away his sketches, with an almost nonchalant casualness, but she was too fast, had snatched them from his inattentive grasp before he was aware of her intention. "Here now, there's no reason for that," he protested, as she glanced with curiousity at his artistic efforts. At the moment he could do no wrong in her eyes. How quickly things change.

Her eyes positively glowed as she regarded the images on the paper, looking between them and the beautiful being that had placed them there, licking her lips in a most unconsciously lascivious manner. "You drew me?" she asked in an obviously pleased manner. "You like my neck?" Her voice positively hopeful now, as she inclined her head toward him, giving him a better view of that very fine feature.

"Of course I like your neck, what's not to like," he murmured, drawn toward that expanse of pale skin, like a moth to a flame, unable to keep from reaching out, running his fingers lightly along the contour of her neck.

"Then bite it," she encouraged him, wantonly. Brazenly.

It wasn't that he didn't want to do it. Of course he did. Then what held him back? Oh so many things. Things that didn't bear thinking about. And which wore the face of Stefan Salvatore. Dammit, why should Damon even care what his brother thought or felt?

But somehow he did....

His lips parted involuntarily, his eyes fastened upon a spot at the nape of her neck, a particularly pale spot, imagining his lips upon that very place, his tongue suckling at her sweetness. His teeth piercing that soft skin. Like a snake drawn to a mongoose, he slithered toward her, never losing sight of that spot, her head lolling back, eyes closed in expectant pleasure. "Bite me, Damon," she whispered lewdly, "Bite me....."

As suddenly as he had started his move toward her, he stopped. "No," he said contrarily, with all the petulance of a wayward child - which at times he could be. He held up one slender hand, as if to emphasize his words. "No, Elena," he said firmly, ignoring the pout which was beginning on those lovely lips. "Go on, find something else to do...."

He turned away from her, pretending to be surprised at the sight of his brother standing among the tombstones, watching the two of them, in obvious distress. A cruel grin played about his own pretty lips, as if to mask his true intentions. He liked toying with Stefan, it pleased the dark side of him. He didn't want his brother to think that there was anything decent in his actions. Damon Salvatore did nothing that was not in his own best interests. Nothing.

"I have things to do," he announced in his I couldn't care less voice. The one that only served to infuriate Stefan. "Be good, you two, don't do anything I wouldn't do." He knew they wouldn't, Elena wouldn't allow it. Not at the moment, anyway. Sighing at the prize that was right there, just within his grasp, he pushed the thought away, reaching out with his mind for the vacancy that was Caroline Forbes. Found it. He could and would find pleasure there. Of his own making.

Without another word, he transformed himself into the giant black crow, cawed loudly and flew away, into the night, only belatedly remembering his sketchbook. That was alright. Let his brother wonder, he decided.... and suffer..... For now that was good enough for Damon.