He watched Elena fall asleep, appreciating the sweep of dark lashes against her cheeks. She really did look astonishingly like Katherine, a fact that their vastly different personalities usually kept him from thinking about. Looking at her now, though, her face soft and vulnerable in sleep and devoid of the things that made her Elena, it hit him like a fist in the chest.

She shivered, and the illusion was broken.

He sighed and took off his jacket, draping it over her before settling back against the wall. He wasn't sure what he intended to accomplish by joining her in her vigil. Perhaps he would gain brownie points for his good behaviour today, and by staying.

He snorted at himself and spun his ring on his finger. As good a story as any, he supposed. He tilted his head back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling blankly. It brought back his own latest incarceration powerfully, and he swallowed a vicious curse.

He hated that fucking ceiling.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Damon." It was Elena's voice, and she sounded pissed. What had he done now?

He opened his eyes to find himself in a bathroom... an outright sybaritic one with marble and bronze and a tub big enough for an orgy. He cocked an eyebrow at it. It seemed little Elena had rich fantasies.

"Yes?" He replied in his best 'vampire seductor' voice, turning his head to see her standing under a shower that was closer to a thundering waterfall. His eyebrow hiked higher.

Rich, complicated fantasies. Something to remember.

She shrieked and flailed wildly. Sadly, most of her delicious little body was blocked from his sight by a wall that reached her shoulders. He shrugged and turned to examine the wall, touching it with the tips of his fingers to test the texture. High quality stuff. He ran his hand over one of the towels, appreciating the soft feel of it even as he tsked. The marble actually had veins of gold running through it.

"You!" She finally managed to grit out after a series of inarticulate splutters.

"So it seems," he agreed easily, trailing a finger along the gold line as he continued along the wall. "I have to say, Elena, you have impeccable taste." A glance at the floor displayed a complex tile mosaic featuring an ecstatic mermaid being pounded by surf, and he shot her a wicked grin at the sight. "I didn't know you had it in you." He managed not to waggle his eyebrows at her, barely, and continued along the wall to the lights.

"Why are you here, Damon?" She still sounded mad. Maybe he should have done the eyebrow thing after all.

He shrugged. "You called, I came." He remembered the last time he'd said that and smiled at her over his shoulder. "Haven't we been over this before?"

She looked at him and visibly gathered her calm. She looked so cute, all sleek and wet, blinking at him with those knowing, sin-filled eyes. "I meant, why am I here," she stressed. Her severe, haughty look was ruined by a shiver.

"I don't know what you mean," he said honestly, fighting back a grin as she shivered again. The detail work on the lantern was quite intricate. He poked at it and found it warm to the touch.

"I thought the vervain meant you couldn't compel me. Can't get into my head."

He pursed his lips and turned to face her. Confident that the wall was solid enough, given the quality of the rest of this dream room she'd created, he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I can't," he told her brightly, "That doesn't stop you from getting into mine, though." Delighted, he tilted his head, in that way he knew drove her crazy. "So I suppose the real question is why am I here, isn't it?"

"I'm in your head?" she asked blankly, completely thrown. "How did I do that?" She looked scared, and it made something in his chest twist.

"Dunno. Maybe when I force-fed you my blood some sort of link was forged. I can't say I mind. You really do take me to the nicest places." He needed to get that look off her face. He hated seeing her afraid. So, he acted. He blurred across the room, pressing his nose right up to hers. Her eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively huddled closer to the wall. He kept his eyes at the perfectly gentlemanly height of her own. "But never fear." He let his lips curl suggestively. "Now that I'm here, I know just what to do."

A quick mental flex changed all the electric lights to torches, and spilled a fresh deluge of hot water down her back. She sucked in her breath at the sudden heat, arching away from the splash before automatically sinking back into the warmth with unconscious sensuality. It made him suck in a breath of his own.

"You know," he said slowly, widening his eyes in false surprise. "I just realised! I haven't had my shower yet." He blinked at her, fluttering his eyelashes teasingly. "How remiss of me."

Her expression eased, the last remnant of fear smoothed away in the familiarity of her amused exasperation at him. That knot in his chest eased with it. "We are not sharing a naked shower, Damon," she chided him in that schoolmarm voice. It made him want to taunt her even more.

"Ok," he said, then flicked into place at her back even as he changed their clothes with a tiny effort of will. "How about this, then?" She whirled on him in surprise as his breath puffed against the back of her neck. The water poured over him in a heated wave, soaking rapidly into the jeans he'd left in place. He licked his lips and blinked some of it out of his eyes. Her hands were hot little points of pressure on his chest, and he was surprised when she didn't shove him away. Instead, she stared at him with the fascination of a rabbit staring at the snake about to make it dinner, her face a mix of fear and shock and... longing.

"Jesus, Elena," he said, rolling his eyes and turning the deluge into a softer shower. She really had no idea how to have fun. "It's a dream. No one can hold it against you. Live a little!" He locked an arm around her back, yanked her against his chest, and kissed her.

She froze, and he moved his mouth a little against hers, tempting her into giving in. She opened for him, just enough for him to take advantage and delve a little. She tasted clean, like wine and rain.

He wasn't really sure what he'd expected, but it damned sure wasn't that she'd combust in his arms. She dived her fingers into his hair and tugged him closer, rubbing all that shower-slick skin against his. Heat surged through him and he picked her up, pinning her against the wall so he could ease his grip on her, so he could lick his way down her neck. He paused at the feel of her pulse under his tongue, tempted to take a real taste, but fought it back and licked a stripe along her collarbone instead.

She dragged him up by her hand in his hair, gasping his name.

"Elena," he answered, rolling his eyes up to look at her. She looked half-dazed and utterly edible.

"Don't feed on me," she whispered, closing her eyes. Hiding from him.

"It's a dream," he said. "If I bit you, it wouldn't be real." He ground himself against her, groaning at the resulting roll of pleasure. "No more than this would be." And he wanted it, Jesus.

"It would be real enough."

He looked at her, licking his lips to chase the last of her taste from them. She was flushed and panting, her breasts straining against the tiny bikini he'd thought into place. Her hand was locked in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist and urging him closer, but her eyes were earnest.

"All right," he conceded. "No teeth for us." The tight peak on her right breast was taunting him, so he bent his head and suckled hard, hoping to end the discussion there.

Of course, it didn't. He groaned at her tugging on his hair again and lifted his head, widening his eyes at her in frustrated inquiry.

"I didn't say that," she laughed at him.

Intriguing. "Ok." He bared his teeth. "Bite me," he dared her.

Once again she surprised him. He'd thought she'd continue the playful mood, maybe growl and bite his shoulder. Something other than this slow, sensuous exploration. His breath caught when she kissed the corner of his mouth and started to nip her way along his jaw. He froze.

All his concentration narrowed down to the subtle pressure of her lips as she slid with agonizing slowness across the corner of his jaw, stopping to lick his ear with a quick, eager flick of tongue that almost undid him right there. She gave a quick suck on the lobe, and his body tried to gasp but he was already holding his breath. He choked a little, almost panting when she left his ear and started her march down his neck.

He started to shake.

His eyes closed as he tried to regain control of the sensations raging through him. He felt like his neck was on a direct electric line to his groin, with each tiny nip and lick shooting bolts of heat through him. His knees felt weak, and it took all his will to lock them into place. As many times as he'd done this, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been on the receiving end of someone licking his neck. He'd forgotten... the last time... the last time had been...

Katherine.

Elena braced against the wall, wrapped herself closer, and sank her teeth into the juncture of neck and shoulder.

Detonation.

He couldn't even hear the sounds he was sure he was making, his ability to think driven completely offline by the hot circle of Elena's mouth against his skin, blunt little teeth squeezing at his neck. His body jerked against her helplessly, mindlessly trying to get closer even as what was left of his brain was screaming at him for more. He swallowed, breathless again as the movement tightened the skin across his throat.

Then she sucked.

His knees collapsed, and only decades of muscle memory of catching swooning women saved him from simply going down in a heap. Instead, he crumpled to one knee, automatically catching Elena and hitching her higher, trying to give her better access to his neck. Jesus, he never wanted this to stop. Her mouth drew on him as hard as she could, sending bolts straight to his groin and threatening to blow the top of his head right off. He braced his forehead against her shoulder, trying to regain some balance. His arms tightened, trying to anchor her against him, trying to ensure she wouldn't ever stop. "Elena," he said helplessly, "Oh, God. Elena." She was taking him apart, with her hot wet body and her blunt little teeth, and Jesus Christ how was she doing this to him…

A noise broke through his haze. A door slamming?

He opened his eyes, and saw Stefan.

He blinked, and was back in the hallway, staring into Elena's flushed and confused face.

What the fuck was that?

"What the hell just happened?" She demanded.

Oh, what? Like this was his fault? "I have no idea what you mean," he replied calmly, retreating into coldness.

"The dream," she whispered furiously, glancing at the door to Stefan's cell.

Stefan. Had he just been a construct of Elena's wishes, or had she dragged him in there with them? Either way, he needed to think. He spoke slowly and clearly, locking whatever was going on in his chest down under iron control. "I don't know what you mean." He gathered his strength and climbed to his feet more awkwardly than he'd moved since he was a teen. His clothes were stiff, and he felt the start of a pounding headache. "I'm going to go change my clothes. I'll bring you something to eat, and to wear."

Stefan's voice sounded from within the cell, calling her.

Immediately he was forgotten as Elena rushed to the iron-barred window. "I'm here," she said, smiling tremulously at his brother.

He snorted and left, but still heard Stefan's weak words as he headed up the stairs. "Be careful. Damon - he can't be trusted. Be very careful."

He shut the door behind him at the top of the stairs and collapsed back against in, raking both hands into his hair and exhaling shakily. He could still feel the throb in his neck where Elena had bitten him so enthusiastically.

"Be careful of me, brother?" He muttered out loud, incredulous. "I think I need to be careful of her."