Fifteen by Elektra Pendragon As soon as he left Elena's house, Stefan headed for the woods. He took the Old Creek Road, driving too fast on the rough pavement. Leaving the car on the edge of the woods, he retraced the path he'd taken the first day of school. The uncanny recall of his hunter's instincts helped him along, remembering the shape of this bush and that knotted root, until he stood in the center of the clearing ringed with massive oak trees where he had first seen the large crow. Under a ragged blanket of dingy-brown leaves, a few cream-white shapes could be seen; the rabbit's bones picked clean and scattered by scavengers. Stefan took one long look at his surroundings, spinning in a neat circle as his eyes took in everything from the top of the trees to the leaf-littered ground. There was no sign that anyone had been in the area for a while, perhaps not since he himself had last delved this deep into the forest. Stefan opened his mouth and breathed deeply, stilling his thoughts and his body. He concentrated on the wet-earth taste of the cool wind, the mingled and complex scent of the ancient oaks, and the scurrying noises of the animals around him. He gathered his Powers to himself, feeling them awaken and stretch like a long-sleeping cat. When he felt it was right, Stefan lifted his head and cast out a probing, demanding thought. And for the first time since he'd come to Fell's Church, he felt a flicker of a reply. It was faint and wavering, like the lost echo of a distant shout. He couldn't sense from where it came. Stefan sighed heavily and let his head drop. He turned around--and stopped dead. Damon stood before him. He might have been there for hours, lounging against the largest oak tree with his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed not to breathe, his pale skin even more startling against the darkness of his clothes, his hair, his eyes. Eyes which were cool and amused and trained unblinking and statue-like upon Stefan. "So, it is true," Stefan said heavily, feeling the words well up from somewhere deep inside him. "It's been a long time, brother." Damon's mouth quirked. "Not as long as you think, brother." It was a shock to hear that velvety, ironical voice again, thick with menace and Power. Damon's voice was richer and more sensual than Stefan had remembered, each word carefully composed and delivered with deadly accuracy. More arrogant, if that were at all possible. "I've kept track of you over the years," Damon said off-handedly, as though it were an unimportant triviality. Straightening, he pushed himself off the tree in a languorous movement and approached Stefan, his steps steady and filled with leashed strength. "But then, you wouldn't know that, would you? Ah, no," Damon sighed, stopping bare inches from Stefan, "your Powers are as weak as ever." "Be careful, Damon," Stefan said softly, dangerously, lowering his head to glare at Damon through his lashes. "Be very careful tonight. I'm not in a tolerant mood." "St. Stefan in a pique? Imagine." Damon perked an eyebrow, shifting to look at Stefan from the side. Stefan followed the movement with his eyes only. "You're distressed, I suppose, because of my little excursions into your territory. I only did it because I wanted to be close to you." He took that final step closer, his nose almost brushing Stefan's cheek as the rest of his body settled against his left side. The scent of leather and cologne filled Stefan's nose, making him feel a little dizzy. "Brothers," Damon breathed, his words hot against Stefan's skin, "should be close." Stefan fought the urge to push his brother away; he wasn't willing to let Damon intimidate him. He held himself carefully still, even as the anger in his chest made him gasp for breath. "You killed tonight. And you tried to make me think I'd done it." "Are you quite sure you didn't? Perhaps we did it together." Damon daringly placed his hand on Stefan's chest, not pressing but laying it there with a light caress, his thumb playing over the yarn design of his white sweater. Stefan slapped the hand away and turned to leave, but Damon captured his wrist in an unbreakable grip. "Careful!" he near-whispered, holding the captive hand against his own chest, pulling Stefan against his body. "My mood is not the most tolerant tonight, either. I only had a wizened little history teacher, you had..." Damon paused, inhaling deeply through his nose as though he smelled something wonderful around Stefan. Eyes fastened on Stefan's lips, he continued, "A pretty girl." Stefan yanked on his wrist, jerking his arm in an effort to break free. Damon held him, squeezing tighter the harder Stefan pulled. The tips of his fingers started to tingle. It dawned on Stefan that if he wanted, Damon could hold him and never let go--and Stefan could do nothing to stop him. Even when he put his weight behind it, Stefan couldn't tear his hand out of Damon's grasp. His brother's inhuman strength made Stefan feel something he hadn't felt in several centuries--vulnerable. Damon watched Stefan struggle with distanced interest, as though he were a bug trying to escape a jar. He tilted his head to the side, his expression not changing as he let Stefan go with a flourish of his hand. Stefan stumbled away a pace or two before he turned to face Damon head-on, snarling, "Keep away from Elena." He had meant it to be filled with his fury, but it came out sounding weak to his ears, as though his own voice knew how futile his struggles were against one so powerful. Stefan took a deep breath, concentrating on his anger, his fury, until it was a bright burning spot inside him. When he next spoke, his words were as breathy and dangerous as Damon's own. "Keep away from her, Damon. I know you've been spying on her, watching her. But no more. Go near her again and you'll regret it." Damon's eyes laughed, even as the rest of his face remained aloof. His dark lashes dipped down coyly, shadowing his gaze as he looked up at Stefan. His words were touched with mischief, lightly mocking as Damon pouted theatrically. "You always were selfish. Your one fault. Not willing to share anything, are you?" Suddenly, Damon's lips curved in a singularly beautiful, frightening smile. "But fortunately the lovely Elena is more generous. Didn't she tell you about our little liaisons?" His dark eyes flashed, and he leaned forward into Stefan's space, his voice lowered conspiratorially. "Why, the first time we met she almost gave herself to me on the spot." "That's a lie!" Stefan hissed, his hands fisting at his sides as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. "Oh, no, dear brother. I never lie about anything important. Or do I mean unimportant?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, your beauteous damsel nearly swooned into my arms. I think she likes men in black." Shaking his head sadly, he added, almost gently, "You're wrong about her, you know. You think she's sweet and docile, like Katherine. She isn't. She's not your type at all, my saintly brother. She has a spirit and a fire in her that you wouldn't know what to do with." "And you would, I suppose." Damon's black eyes lightened, his sneer becoming more of a sensual leer. The tip of his tongue just touched his bottom lip as he glanced down for a second. "Oh, yes." Stefan wanted to smash that beautiful, arrogant smile, to make Damon's face as ugly and distorted as his soul. He had always hated Damon for his dark beauty and sensuality that effortlessly drew women to him like moths to a flame. As far back as he could remember, Stefan had been forced to watch as Damon seduced everyone he came across. Not even Katherine could resist his vicious charm. But Stefan wasn't going to let Damon win this time. In a barely controlled voice, he said, "You're right about one thing. She's strong. Strong enough to fight you off. And now that she knows what you really are, she will. All she feels for you now is disgust." Damon's eyebrows lifted, his smile not wavering, as though he thought it were all a joke. "Does she, now? We'll see about that. Perhaps she'll find that real darkness is more to her taste than feeble twilight. I, at least, can admit the truth about my nature. But I worry about you, little brother." Damon brought up his hand, ghosting it over Stefan's cheek--not touching, just outlining his features. Stefan tried not to let Damon see how it disturbed him, but he couldn't stop the wince when a finger grazed his upper lip. Damon's face became intense, his gaze locked on Stefan's lip. His voice lost its joviality. "You're looking weak and ill-fed. She's a tease, is she?" Kill him, something in Stefan's mind demanded. He could feel his frantic pulse thudding throughout his body, each throb demanding that he hurt Damon, protect Elena. But he held himself back once more. Damon had fed very well tonight. His brother's dark aura was swollen, pulsing, almost shining with the life essence he had taken. His wrist still ached from Damon's grip. He had always been the stronger one, and right now, he was at the peak of his Powers. "Yes, I drank deeply," Damon nearly moaned, speaking as though he could read Stefan's thoughts. He sighed and ran his tongue over his lips in satisfied remembrance. "He was small, but there was a surprising amount of juice in him. Not pretty like Elena, and he certainly didn't smell as good. But it's always exhilarating to feel the new blood singing inside you." Damon breathed expansively, his hands rubbing across his chest as he tilted his head back, stretching and writhing like a big purring cat being petted just right. Stefan remembered those graceful movements, each gesture controlled and precise and undeniably sensual. The centuries had only refined Damon's natural poise. He chuckled, his hips rolling and swaying as he circled around behind Stefan. Stefan turned to follow, keeping his eyes locked on his brother. "It makes me feel like doing this..." Damon winked once. There was a shimmer of motion, and Damon disappeared from Stefan's view. Stefan twisted his neck, looking around desperately, but Damon had completely vanished. He couldn't stop the gasp of surprise when a hard chest bumped into his back. Strong hands wrapped around his chest from behind. Fingers grasped the neck of his sweater, nails scratching lightly at his Adam's apple. Stefan's hands went up instantly to defend, but before he could reach them he felt a rippling of muscle, the hands moving too quick to catch. For a brief second the fabric stretched then bit deep into his skin. It fought, but in the end, the sweater was no match for Damon's strength. It tore apart in his hands, baring Stefan to the waist. Short nails dug into his skin all the way down, ripping shallow slashes in his chest and stomach. Then the presence at his back disappeared, taking the remains of his shirt with it. Damon reappeared as suddenly as he had vanished, a few feet away from Stefan with the ragged shreds of his shirt dangling between his forefinger and thumb. "I didn't like it there anyway," Damon said, and tossed the sweater into the trees, the torn fabric flapping like a broken wing. Then he smiled engagingly. "It also makes me feel like doing this." Again, there was a shimmer, and Damon was gone. A chilling breeze suddenly swept down from the clouds. "Up here, brother." The mocking voice came from overhead, and when Stefan looked up he saw Damon perched among the spreading branches of the oak tree. He leaned back on the tapering trunk, his legs lazily draped over the large branch he rested upon. Meeting Stefan's eyes, Damon slowly and deliberately brought his hand to his mouth. Rusty-red smudges glistened on the tips of his fingers--Stefan's blood, caught in the nails. Damon delicately licked his index finger, closing his eyes to savor the taste before thrusting two fingers into his mouth. He made a noise in his throat, like a guttural purr, then let his fingers fall out with a lewd popping noise. He stared down at Stefan, his face dark and frightening. Stefan shivered, and not from the cold. He felt more naked under that look than he knew consciously that he was, and his arms wrapped themselves over his wounded chest defensively. The shallow cuts burned as his arms pressed over them, their quick healing making everything feel overly sensitive. Stefan returned his brother's hot look with as menacing a glare as he could manage, stiffening his chin and sneering his lip in disgust. He knew what Damon was trying to do, but he couldn't stop himself from responding to the threat, even though it meant letting his brother know exactly how to get to him. Damon faked a hurt look. With a rustle of tawny brown leaves, he disappeared again. "Back here, brother." Stefan spun at the soft brush of knuckles down his shoulder blade, only to see nothing behind him. "Right here, brother." A hand cupped the curve of his ass, running down to caress him intimately. He spun again. "No, try here." A hot breath on his neck, a whisper of lips... Furious, Stefan whipped the other way, trying to catch hold of Damon, but his fingers grasped only air. Hands like powerful vices locked onto his upper arms, spinning him around. Stefan won a glimpse of his brother's mocking face, then he was flying. The ground disappeared from his feet, and the wind whipped around his naked back. Stefan tried to turn his head, to see where he was going, but his flight stopped short. His cheek slammed painfully into something hard. His head bounced as the rest of his body followed, hitting a rough surface that crumbled under his back. Stretching, shifting, straining away, Stefan could feel the ragged, dead bark of one of the old oaks grinding into his flesh. His cheek felt hot and sore, and he was sure he smelled blood. He tried to lift his arms, but they were pinned to his side, gripped hard enough to bruise to the bone. Stefan opened his eyes, unable to recall when exactly they had closed, and met Damon's sardonic gaze with a pained glare. Damon's eyes were black and fathomless, and his lips were set in a straight line. /Here, Stefan./ Damon's voice was in his head, hissing and beautiful and powerful enough to make Stefan's temples throb and his teeth rattle. The Power it took to project thoughts that clearly made his whole body ache from the assault of mind-whispered words. /What more proof do you need, Stefan?/ It was unnerving to feel as well as hear the incorporeal voice, each syllable sending tiny tremors down his naked back like the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm. Damon's mouth remained an unmoving line, without even a hint that frightening smile. /I'm as much stronger than you as you are stronger than these pitiful humans. I'm faster than you, too, and I have other Powers you've scarcely heard of. The Old Powers, Stefan. And I'm not afraid to use them. If you fight me, I'll use them against you./ Stefan's words rushed out in a tumble, gritted between his teeth as he strained to escape. "Is that what you came here for? To torture me?" Damon sighed heavily, shaking his head. /I've been merciful with you, brother. Many times you've been mine for the killing, but I've always spared your life. But this time is different./ He leaned forward, settling a leg between Stefan's knees. He shifted, and Stefan felt threatening pressure against his groin. Not quite pain--not yet. Stefan stopped moving immediately, watching his brother's face warily. "I am warning you, Stefan, don't oppose me. It doesn't matter what I came here for." The night-black eyes drifted for a moment, as though catching sight of some interesting prey over Stefan's shoulder, before they returned to his face. The pressure on Stefan's crotch lightened, but the hands gripped his arms all the more tightly. "What I want now is Elena," Damon continued his thought, his sing-song voice distracted, but dangerous. He shifted again, rubbing momentarily against Stefan before stopping to simply be there, undeniably pressed intimately against him. "And if you try to stop me from taking her, I will kill you." "You can try," croaked Stefan. Unable to catch his breath, his words were strangled and weak, dying on his lips soon after he uttered them. Damon's leg wasn't exactly moving, but the shifting pressure was distracting in a most distressing way. If he was aware of what he was doing to Stefan, Damon gave no sign, which made it all the more maddening. "You think I can't do it? You never learn, do you, little brother?" Stefan had just enough time to note Damon's weary shake of the head before his brother bent forward and pushed his face into the curve of Stefan's neck. Cool, slick strands of hair tickled against his chin and shoulder as Damon settled. Convulsively, Stefan sucked in a desperate breath, his head rearing back to smack against the tree. His skull pounded with the impact, and his vision danced dizzily. But the pain was better than what he was feeling. Damon's mouth, open and hot against his pulse. Damon's tongue tracing the path of blood as it surged within the thick veins. Damon's teeth, lengthened and pointed, slowly pressing against his skin, inevitably moving towards puncturing flesh. Stefan was fighting instantly, violently, trying with all his strength to throw his brother off. He thrashed his upper body, rocking back and forth between the roughness of the tree and the soft solidity of Damon's chest. He bent his head towards Damon, twisting his shoulders away to try to dislodge the not-quite-biting hold that damned mouth had on his skin. But Damon's hands were like steel, his body heavy as someone twice his size. He held Stefan immobile. The younger vampire was as helpless as a bird under the claws--and the fangs--of a lean and expert cat. His struggles were useless, pathetic. Breathing heavily, Stefan tried to go limp, to wriggle out beneath the crushing hands, but he only succeeded in rubbing his groin down on Damon's leg. He was pinned from every angle, the smaller man implausibly surrounding him with his greater Power. Overwhelming him with his quiet, undeniable strength. Once more, he was held immobile, trapped under Damon's body. The teasing bite on his throat had lightened during his struggles, but as soon as he stilled, Stefan could feel the gathering of force in Damon's jaw. He closed his eyes, instinctively stiffening away from the expected pain. Teeth pierced his skin, sliding smoothly into the meat of muscle and veins before pulling back. The curved fangs tore two long, deep lines across Stefan's throat, breaking him open. The pain of the bite itself wasn't that bad, on top of everything else that he felt. It was tolerable, like a solid punch after you've already taken a dozen hits; bad in and of itself, but just one among many. Damon's head rubbed, almost nuzzled, against Stefan's jaw as he moved in closer. The shift of silky hair across his skin was almost pleasant in a frightening way. Cool lips closed over the bleeding wounds. His brother's tongue teased inside the jagged tears, encouraging them to stay open with pressure and wiggling. The movement against the wounds stung, but the real pain didn't happen until Damon started to suck. Stefan could feel the blossom of wet heat against his skin, something more thick and oily than saliva and sweat. Damon's tongue flickered against Stefan's throat as the older vampire swallowed his first mouthful of his brother's blood. It was as though something broke inside Stefan at that moment. Agony flared up his jaw and cheek. Tendrils of pain pulsed downward with every powerful draw of Damon's mouth until they wrapped around his heart and squeezed, almost stopping Stefan's breath. Even through his pain, Stefan could feel Damon's pleasure as he took the blood from his victim. He suffered the humiliation of being the prey even as he sensed the joy his brother felt being the predator. It was a tease on his mind--if he would give in to Damon's dominance, he could feel the pleasure too. The pleasure of being a willing victim. He just had to surrender. Submit. Stefan stubbornly refused, and the pain grew worse. Every draw on his wounds was like his heart was being pulled through his chest by a great clawed fist. Damon's body hunched around his, rubbing sensuously against Stefan's leg and crotch. The tease of his brother's pleasure grew all the more seductive, but it only made Stefan fight harder, to refuse to be an accomplice to this--to his rape. The voice came back into his mind, wrapping around his thoughts like a shadowy mist. The words were edged with laughter. /You always were stubborn. Perhaps this will convince you./ The crushing grip on his arms lessened. Quicker than the sensation could return to his fingers, Damon had flung Stefan's hands over his head, trapping both wrists beneath a single, powerful hand. The pain lessened in his chest and neck; Damon was lazily lapping at the wounds instead of forcefully sucking it out of Stefan's veins. His lips slurped at the weeping gashes as excess blood overflowed down his neck, drinking up what spilled from the torn flesh. Stefan knew his brother too well to think he was going stop--not after the threat he had just whispered into Stefan's mind. A cold prickling started at the base of Stefan's spine as he tensed, waiting for Damon to do something worse. It started with a light caress down his side. Warm, soft fingers slid over Stefan's ribs until they settled around his side, just above his hip. The thumb rubbed over his skin lightly, counterpoint to the lapping tongue and kissing lips at his throat. Slowly, Damon started to move, his body gathering like waves, undulating up Stefan's body until every inch of his bare chest was tingling from the rough rub of Damon's t-shirt. Senses numbed from the overwhelming pain came back to life under the more gentle provocation. It felt so good, it was almost pain in itself. It was easier to fight when it hurt; the agony had spurned on his resolve, fed his anger. Pleasure, however, was much harder to fight. It anesthetized the nourishing pain. It fogged the mind. It tore at the foundations of resolve until surrender seemed as natural as breathing. Stefan whimpered. Damon responded with a noise of his own, a deep groan from the base of his throat. The noise vibrated through Stefan's whole body, setting off a series of shakes that made his muscles feel weak. The hand at his side stopped its idle petting of Stefan's skin and moved with more purpose, sliding under the tight beltline and into the top of Stefan's jeans. Damon cupped Stefan's ass, kneading the solid flesh rhythmically. The fabric of Stefan's jeans pulled tight across his crotch, chafing his erection as Damon rubbed against him. It was a shock to realize just how excited his body was over the combination of sensations, the sensual gentleness with which his brother was treating him. His brother...Damon--No! Just as Damon's hand crept towards the sensitive inner curve of his ass, Stefan came back into himself. A finger brushed over his anus, and Stefan was instantly fighting again, jerking his body around to escape--from Damon, from the touch, from everything. He fought harder than he had before, his muscles trembling from the exertion. He could feel new bruises forming as he twisted his arms, trying to contort out of Damon's grasp. Damon road his bucking, his teeth gently nipping around the wounds as he absorbed Stefan's fight. His finger pressed against the small opening, threatening to push inside. Stefan's struggles became frantic, gasping sounds of near-terror escaping his lips. /Don't, brother/, Damon warned. The teeth set harder in his flesh, the bones of Stefan's wrists grinding together as Damon tried to hold him. Stefan twisted, but it was the wrong way; the finger slipped inside his body just as Damon bit down hard. Stefan might have cried out--he couldn't tell. His body went incredibly still, trembling between the dual penetrations. Neither was especially painful, but they were terrifying. This time, Damon hit one of the major arteries, and quickly the blood gushed from Stefan's body. His stomach rolled as Damon moved his finger inside him. He was dizzy, confused, sick. Before he could pass out, Damon let Stefan go. It happened all at once. Teeth withdrew, and with a last wiggle, the finger slid out of his anus roughly. Damon released Stefan's wrists, and he stepped back. For a brief moment Stefan was standing on his own, then his legs buckled and he fell to the forest floor. His hands slid in the loose, damp leaves as he tried to catch himself before falling completely on his face. His knees ached from hitting the knotted roots of the tree. Gasping for breath, Stefan tried to stand. He succeeded in raising to one knee, his hand pressed to his neck to help slow the flow of blood. Without Damon's constant attention, his body was healing the worse of the injury, stopping the flow. "You see, little brother, I'm stronger than you. Strong enough to take you--" Stefan shuddered at the threat, at what might have happened--what could still happen. Damon continued, his voice more cruel. "Take your blood and your life if I wish it." Softly, almost as though he had forgotten, Damon added, "Leave Elena to me, or I will." Stefan lifted his head, feeling the long wounds stretch and tear open with the movement. Damon stood with his head thrown back, legs slightly apart, the bulge in his jeans quite prominent. His night-black eyes were hot with triumph and something else, something Stefan tried hard to not think about. His blood glittered on Damon's sneering lips, making them look deep red and swollen, stark against his moonlight-pale skin. Elena. For a moment, Stefan had forgotten her. Her memories surged up into his mind now, burning bright against Damon's darkness. His body ached with all that Damon had done to him, but there was no way Stefan would leave Elena to such a monster. He would die before he'd let Damon to do her what he had just done to Stefan. Hatred, such hated as he had never known before, filled Stefan, giving him strength. He held onto it, pouring all his pain into it until he felt it grow, burning in his chest. After centuries of regret over killing his brother, Stefan's only wish now was to do it all over again--only this time much more slowly. Concentrating on his hatred, Stefan uneasily got to his feet. He gritted his teeth and tried to stand tall, not showing what an effort it cost him. "Elena is not yours," he ground out, "and she never will be." He would do whatever he had to in order to ensure it. Damon's eyes flared with a strange light, but his lips twisted into a beautiful, blood-smeared smile. With one finger, he wiped away some of the blood. He held up the finger, looking at it like one would examine a fine jewel. Slowly he slipped it into his mouth, sucking with great enthusiasm, his throat working at it. His eyes lingered on Stefan's crotch, drawing his attention to it. Stefan was no longer hard and aching inside his tight jeans. He could feel a clammy stickiness coating his skin uncomfortably. Stefan turned away from the sight of his brother's mocking face. Concentrating on every step, he slowly began to weave his way out of the clearing and into the woods. His entire body hurt, and the shame he felt was even greater than the physical ache. It was a fight to keep walking, even though he felt with his entire being the need to run away. Weakness dragged down his limps; he was on the verge of passing out. /You never learn, brother./ Stefan shuddered at the mocking voice in his mind, but he didn't have the strength to reply. The hate inside grew, helping him to take another step, and another. It seemed to take forever, and all the trees looked the same, but he had to be nearing his car soon. He had to rest...He could make it to his car. Just a few more steps... The leaves crackled with a step that was not his own. It was light, but strong, graceful, and approaching with great speed. Even has he tried to turn to face it, darkness filled Stefan's body and mind, and he fell. He never felt himself hit the ground. THE END