outer space by LindaMarie Stefan wakes her from dreams before they get worse. Elena had drowsed before the television while the brothers read in the library, and Damon noticed her distress seconds after his sibling. Some nights, Damon knows, she dreams of being unclean, of Klause's invisible arms trapping her spirit and forcing her close. What does it feel like to have someone rape your soul? Elena knows, and the memory draws her down so deeply that even her own fear does not wake her. Stefan can always pull her to safety. Damon and his brother calm her with gentle words, and she lets Stefan carry her up the stairs. Stefan kisses her thoroughly while Damon strips her of clothing, because in early passion Stefan's hands become unreflexive and artless. Damon scrapes her lightly with his teeth, canines nudging her ribs, flat lower teeth marking her abdomen. Stefan travels slowly down her neck; her arms are wrapped over his shoulders and head. This leaves Damon free to move where he would, to concentrate his energy on retracting his biting teeth before taking her already-hard cock into his mouth. He thinks he will never tire of sucking her, because always her reaction is so open and unfettered. Her moans are raw hungry sounds, her hips uncontrolled as she fights to stand, as Damon's hands grip her thighs and hold her up. He will never tire of the way she feels in his mouth, so earnest, velvet-smooth with that loose cap of skin he can rub with his tongue. He feels the blood rushing, rushing through her. It draws him in with an almost-unnoticeable difference that only she possesses: her invulnerability, both within and without. He cups her balls in one hand, squeezing them gently and rolling them between his fingers, his skin moving caressingly over the soft blond hair. The salty taste of her precome burns the back of his throat. Elena's hips jerk; she inhales an audible breath. Damon's hair is in his eyes, but when he looks up he can still see Stefan's mouth fixed over her left nipple, one hand supporting her shoulder while the other circles her navel. Elena's body trembles; she cries loudly and Damon can tell she's holding herself back, just barely. She'd be on the floor if they weren't holding her up. We need to lay her down, Stefan says with his mind, his mouth busy. Elena's cock slips heavily from Damon's swollen mouth. The second it's safe, he allows his fangs to unsheathe, and sighs with relief. "I do believe you've been reading my thoughts, little brother," he says, ignoring Elena's pained sound of protest to send Stefan an approving smile. Between the two of them, they get her to the bed, then Stefan's bare hands are brushing up Damon's stomach, lifting off his shirt. Damon is suddenly aware of his own aching cock, and he growls, clenching his fists while Stefan hastily undoes the buttons on his pants, pulling them down. Damon kicks off his shoes and climbs out of the clothing, quickly reaching out and beginning to undress Stefan. He works a little more slowly, still savoring the simple pleasure of touching this skin, Stefan's skin, and feeling him quicken ever so slightly beneath his fingers, willing. "Flesh of my flesh," Damon murmurs, and tongue-kisses the hollow of his collarbone. "Blood of my blood." Stefan's mouth captures his, their long teeth knocking together, little scrapes giving them just a taste of their mingled essence. They pull back, and since both their clothes lie in a heap, they move onto the mattress. Elena is watching them with dilated eyes, taking long deep breaths, trying to keep controlled. Damon places one hand flat on her stomach, and the muscles tense under his fingers. "Ah," she says, her voice rising to a higher pitch, breathy. More like her old voice. Stefan snakes fingers up her inner thigh, and, "Stefan, please." "What, Elena--god--Elena, anything you want." He pants, his hips thrusting twice helplessly into the sheets. His eyes are greedy for her. St. Stefan is always so greedy to serve. Her eyes are wide, and she's not looking at either of them. "I want--" and Damon can't resist touching her, scratching a short fingernail over one of her nipples. "Damon--stop--I can't think when you--Stefan, I want to be inside of you." He and Stefan both groan at the thought, simultaneously, and Damon has to laugh. He's just been waiting for the day she'd want to take control. Elena sits up, raises herself dazedly. "Damon," and she looks at him with moon-blond hair falling over her face, "You'll have to help me." He pulls her to him. Damon can't stop touching her, and he kisses her very deeply, letting out a low satisfied sound. Then he pushes her away. "Of course I'll help you, Elena," grinning wickedly at Stefan, who moans obligingly. Damon crawls over to Stefan and pushes him flat on his back. "How do you want him, Elena?" Elena has moved, too, so that she's next to Damon at Stefan's side. Stefan's pushing himself back, toward the head of the bed, knees up. "No," she says plaintively, her voice low and heated. "I want you on your knees, Stefan." He pants, and rolls over, and Damon drags a few pillows to him, arranging them so Stefan can tuck his arms under his chin. If Damon were human he's be shaking with anticipation, and as it is he can feel a humming under his skin, like electricity. Damon reaches blindly under the bed, searching with his hand until he finds the bottle of lubricant. "Here." He rejoins Elena, contriving to run his hand along the perfect length of Stefan's spine as he goes. "Do what you'd do if--I were you," Elena tells him, but he doesn't need any instruction. He kisses her lightly, just a tease, and pours a little of the slick fluid onto his fingers. He'd tell Elena to watch if she weren't already doing so, avidly, as if to memorize his every movement. He drops the bottle in Elena's direction and cups his slippery left hand around and under Stefan's backside. His middle finger strokes lightly at a spot just behind Stefan's balls, his thumb pressing into his ass. Stefan's hips buck when the muscles yield to him, but Damon uses his free hand to still him while he works the digit in and out. Elena crawls closer to Stefan, her gaze glued to Damon's fingers. She holds out a hand to Stefan's face, and he cranes his neck to capture her fingers in his mouth, groaning around them. She's already poured lubricant into her other hand, and she hisses as she smoothes it onto herself. Damon replaces his thumb with the first two fingers of his right hand, hooking them a certain way inside that makes Stefan open his mouth wide and positively wail. Damon could keep at this all night, torturing his brother this way--but he won't, not this time. "Elena, if he gets any more ready he'll be completely useless to us." "God, Damon," Stefan moans, "the way you talk." "How's that, Stefan?" Damon cruelly twists his fingers. "Ah--it's like you're conversing, rather than fucking me." Elena is gently moving Damon out of the way, her hands molding to Stefan's hips. "I think it's the other way around, Stefan." She pulls Damon's fingers out sharply. "And besides, I have the privilege tonight." She presses herself into him, her cock sliding in easily. She's holding her breath, moving so slowly, clearly lost in the sensation. Damon reaches under Stefan and grips his penis, tightly. Stefan thrusts into his hand several times, starting a rhythm against Elena's cock that she adapts to readily, speeding up and deepening her thrusts. Then, "No, Damon, let me," and she had her hand wrapped just above Damon's, and for a few moments they are all three connected, and in accord, and strong, and then Damon's willpower is gone and he has to let go. He leans his head against Stefan's knee, listening to the sounds of his partners' mingled pleasure, before pulling far enough away to watch it all. He reaches out with his mind, using what little clarity he has left to draw them together. They are mind-to-mind-to-mind, and he knows exactly what it feels for Elena to learn this feeling once impossible to her, this tight heat surrounding a part of her that seems like her own world. He knows what Stefan feels when she's hilt-deep in him, when her hands and her hips go ragged and the burning in his belly reaches unbearable levels. Only then does Damon let himself go, to slip his fist around his own cock, feeling them register the added sensation as just that little contact pulls him over the edge, and he comes hard, all that built-up energy shooting through and out of him like a lightning bolt. With another jolt he registers Elena and Stefan's releases, not far apart, prolonging the end of his own, and through the sparks behind his eyes he sees the two collapse in a satisfied heap. Then the connection is broken, and he can think again. Elena reaches out to him, smiling, and he pulls himself close again. His hands are in Elena's hair, and Stefan's lips run a trail along his throat, and the whole world is a liquid, shimmering place, consisting only of the bed and their bodies in it. Fin.