AN: So yeah….I'm doing a re-write of my last chapter. It's not that I'm not proud of my last chapter because I actually really liked it… BUT… I have to agree with a lot of you that complained it was too much of a deviation from the tone I've set since the beginning. Going back and looking over everything… I have to agree with all you lovely people. I hope that you're not mad that I'm doing a re-write, or feel like it's some sort of cop-out… But I really want to get this story right. I have to say most of my reviews were considerate, I got a couple of nasty ones, which I didn't appreciate, but for all of you that were considerate and honest thank you so much. Please tell me what you think and review!

I love you guys.

Brief recap: Elena's been slowly losing her mind, torn between her desire for Damon and her guilt in betraying Stefan. In the last chapters we see Elena give in to Damon (sort of), and they make love. However, upon awakening, Elena is nowhere to be seen (she is in fact hiding in a motel room in Georgia...ironic anyone?) Which pisses Damon off, like really, really pisses him off. Damon writes a last letter to Elena, warning her that he's about to play dirty. Just remember guys, Damon is pissed, but the fluff will come (just not necessarily in this chapter)

Ch. 6

A Mouthful of Repercussions

It. Won't. Stop.

The tears won't stop.

They are streaming down her face, leaving angry red rivers behind. Reminding Elena of the afternoons she used to spend with her mom by her home-town waterfall.

What force those waters had. What damage they could cause…

('Just like you,' Katherine whispers… 'Just like me.')

There's an animal choking somewhere outside her tiny motel room, she can hear its garbled cries. And Elena wants to find it and comfort it. So she manages to suck in a breath and crawl back up to her knees…. only to discover the crying has stopped.

She waits, frozen there on bruised knees, listening. But there's only silence.

Oh.

It was her.

She's the pitiful animal.

And somehow, this makes her feel better.

She doesn't bother turning on the one light that hangs precariously from the center of the room's ceiling. She just curls up, right there on the dirty floor.

Smashing her left cheek into the ragged carpet below her, Elena's last thought is that it's just so much rougher than Damon's silken sheets.

('Then maybe you shouldn't have left him, you whore.')

"Shut up Katherine," Elena whispers.

Day breaks,

Night falls.

…And then day breaks,

And night falls.

Again.

And again.

Again,

…and again.

She's crazy.

That's the only explanation, because she's hearing his voice.

And not in her head, like she misses him so much that she's remembering the exact timber and cadences of his murmurings.

No, she fucking hears him.

Like he's right next to her, and it has her jumping and twirling around in circles trying to find him.

But she's alone.

God, she's crazy!

('E-lenaa')

"Damon?"

('I'm coming for you).'

"Oh, oh Damon please, I can't handle this!"

('E-lenaa')

"Damon!"

('E-lenaa')

"Please, STOP!"

('E-lenaaaa')

"You're not real!"

She's counting the cracks in the faded yellow wallpaper in an effort to keep her mind occupied, and off Damon Salvatore.

(Or Stefan Salvatore for that matter, she thinks wryly).

She could respond to one of what seems like hundreds of text messages and missed calls she's received buuuuttttt…..

She can't.

Can't face them,

And can't face the reflection in her mirror.

If she's lucky, (which Elena knows she really really is), Klaus will find her and end her before anything else can unfold.

Because it's only a matter of time.

Only a matter of time before Stefan and what's left of her family finds out what she's become, what she will continue to be.

Because she can't resist him.

If Damon finds her…she's done.

Please find me, Elena thinks.

(Please don't…)

She's having dreams.

Dreams about him.

Some sweet, and unquestionably hers.

And some…not so sweet. These are the ones she's unsure of, the ones that make her pace around her motel room biting her nails.

It's not that she's above a kinky fantasy or two, she's definitely not… (especially lately)...

But these dreams have a hazy, almost drug-like quality to them, as if she's viewing them behind a shroud of scratchy black lace.

It makes her wonder if Damon is somehow controlling all this. Making her hear his voice, Katherine's voice, making her dream…

It's not that she believes Damon is above such things, (she's learned the hard way that he isn't) but does he really have this much power?

Wouldn't he need to know where she is?

…Does he know where she is?

Maybe this is his strategy, to drive her slowly insane until she can't take it anymore, until she gives up (gives in).

Shaking her head in exasperation, or maybe resignation, Elena can't help but think 'is this really what love is supposed to be like?'

And then, frightening her beyond belief, that voice chuckles right against her ear.

She spins, hair flying, heart racing, trying to locate him.

But there's only empty space.

Nonetheless, she hears,

('Oh Elena, you should know better than that').

She dreams again that night.

She's taken nothing but his letters with her.

She has them all spread out; laying across the motel's faded beige carpet.

The ribbons, all the beautiful velvety ribbons he's given her, lay curled at her feet looking lonely and harmless.

Reaching out a trembling hand, she strokes the silken length of one of them.

It doesn't feel all that different from him.

Closing her eyes, she continues to stroke it, remembering the euphoria, the rush of adrenaline she felt when she worked Damon over.

(The noises he made…)

The way his eyes pierced through her…

His muscles contorting powerfully under her small, small, hands…

Her chest is heaving now, and she reaches for a handful of the curling ribbon.

She removes all her clothing, and wraps herself in him instead.

(or the closest she can get to him anyway).

She's wrapped in his colorful embrace.

His thoughts and emotions surrounding her and cocooning her…

And time marches on.

When he finds her, she's relieved.

There's no warning, no notice.

There's only silence,

…and then there's not.

Because he's there, kicking down her little motel room door and standing in the entrance-way looking like a god.

Her mouth falls open in shock.

But after a moment, Elena can feel her lips moving, trying to form words…but when she finally gets a good look at his face…she freezes.

And a chill works its way up her spine, her human instincts warning her,

DANGER!

But she must be one messed up little girl, because a thrill unlike anything she's ever known before blossoms, full and ripe inside of her.

Elena watches with a sick, mute kind of fascination as Damon surveys her lodgings – looking like a king taking stock of his lands.

And something dark and primal runs through her as she realizes that Damon does think of her in that way – as his.

(as his property?)

No a little voice inside Elena whispers, 'as his queen.'

His to own, his to do whatever he wants with…

And that's exactly what he's here for.

Her heart stutters once, before hammering against her ribcage. Each beat feels like an ice pick going through her, into her.

It's unbelievably painful…the want.

And he must have heard it because his eyes, once so casual and bland, are now looking at her with a little curiosity, and more than a hint of malice.

The red ribbon he'd idly grabbed off her broken-down dresser is now being stretched taught between his long, knowledgeable fingers.

Elena finds herself swallowing, unable to remove her eyes from the sight. How he's practically manhandling that piece of silky material.

How nimble his fingers are.

His eyes lift up, pinning her to the very piece of earth she's silently sitting on. Tilting his head to the side, he considers her, takes her in, stretching the moment out into something Elena feels like might kill her. Because she's pretty sure that the human body is not equipped to handle this supernova that's about to combust … About to break free from the burning ache somersaulting somewhere around her hollow chest.

"You've been a bad girl," Damon says.

….

The whimper that leaves her throat had no chance of being suppressed, so Elena doesn't bother mourning its loss.

Instead she tries to swallow, to breathe, to do something!

But she can't.

"Haven't you Elena," he continues, like she hasn't just made any type of aroused-beyond-belief noises.

There's steam rising from their bodies, pouring out of their every pore. From the corner of her eye, Elena can actually see the cloudy streaks fogging up her dresser mirror.

And all of this has been created while they're on opposite ends of the room.

She's still crumpled up in a pathetic ball of human flesh, and he's leaning against her dresser drawer, the only thing of hers he's touching is that damned ribbon.

Her heartbeat is the soundtrack to this moment; it's drumming more pronounced that even the loudest club beat. And Elena feels her blood rushing, pulsating to its rhythm.

They both hear it, and Elena can measure what she thinks is her life in the last remaining beats.

The veins around Damon's icy orbs are crackling in response, halfway hidden beneath long raven hair. He inhales and exhales heavily, just once, before he straightens.

"You're going to do exactly what I say, Elena."

He pauses, perhaps waiting for her to interrupt but Elena doesn't say anything, just continues to stare up at him from her spot on the floor.

White, masculine hands clench by his sides.

"Take your clothes off."

….

Buh-bum, her heart goes.

Her fingers feel immobile, a strange sort of stillness invading her limbs.

Does she really want to do this?

All that she seems capable of doing is staring at him.

"Were you waiting for me to close the blinds," Damon asks mockingly, an almost cruel smile twisting his face and his words. "You're so demure and innocent now."

Why is excitement licking at her bones?

A growl erupts from his throat, and he takes a menacing step forward.

"Don't. Test. Me. Elena. I'll fucking rip Jeremy's throat out again if I have to."

Her shock must show, because he's sneering now, a taunting twist creeping along his sculpted lips.

"It's not my fault someone's pushed me to my limit. And you better believe that I'm capable of anything right now, so TAKE. YOUR. FUCKING. CLOTHES. OFF."

Before she realizes what she's doing, she's up and stripping.

Her cute little cardigan,

Her top,

Her jeans,

Until all that's left is her baby pink scarf, trailing innocently down her shoulders, framing her naked breasts.

Stefan had bought it for her last year.

Ironically enough, she'd forgotten all about it…

(until now that is).

After a moment, a long heart-stopping moment, Damon turns away from her, reaching into a black bag she hadn't noticed before.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna touch you."

But the gleam in his eyes is wicked, and Elena is worried. She's astronomically, infinitely, worried.

"You're gonna touch me."

Oh.

Well…ok.

Something in her seems to release, a hum building up beneath her fingertips until….

"And we're gonna make Stefan watch."

His words slam into her, turning her flesh chili-pepper red; whether from shame or arousal Elena has no clue. And she feels a sort of hopeless resignation fill and weigh her bones at the uncertainty.

A camera is set,

A tripod unfolded,

A light flashes once,

(They move closer)

Twice,

(She's tying that pretty little scarf around his wrists)

Three times,

and ACTION!

There's movement, but no thought to it, like it's a choreographed dance that she's been through so many times that in all unfolds with simple muscle memory.

She's pushing him down, down, down onto a feeble, broken looking, folding chair.

Resting one delicate palm across his t-shirt clad chest, she exerts minimal pressure, 'stay still.'

He does.

Rising to her full height, she circles him, letting her fingers slide temptingly across his still-clothed flesh, before coming to a stop in front of him.

A soft, red glow, bathes them, but Elena gives no thought to the camera capturing her actions, capturing her naked body on full display.

Damon is painfully aware of it, and is positively gleeful.

Elena's kneeling now, her hands digging into his thighs.

Doe eyes never leaving blue ones.

"Have you ever had my cock in your mouth before, Elena?"

Heat fills her, as she shakily nods in reply.

But then she's caught in his gaze, and even though he's the one with his hands tied behind his back, she's the one trapped.

"Speak up, kitten. Stefan can't hear you."

Oh god.

He's really filming this!

For some reason, she didn't believe it.

This isn't her!

She would never be so cruel, so deliberate in causing someone else's pain.

"No," Elena whimpers.

But his eyes, they are still on hers, and she's powerless.

Is he compelling me, Elena thinks.

(Will the real Damon Salvatore, please stand up – Katherine chants).

He must be, because she's unzipping him.

…And then stroking the silken steel rod with gusto.

He's hot in her hands.

And his eyes are blazing down at her, doing unmentionable, unimaginable things to her morals.

She's blowing hot air onto Damon's dick, and Stefan is watching.

Watching her with those gentle, moss-green eyes of his.

Oh god, she really doesn't want to be doing this!

But the cruelest thing is yet to come.

He does it when she has him fully engulfed within the warm confines of her mouth.

He starts reciting one of her love letters.

"Dear Damon, Please. Please, give it to me…Give. Me. All. Of. It."

And then his eyes are flickering to the camera resting behind her head.

"Did you get all that, Steffie?"

Tears fill her eyes, as his jeering words touch her ears. And all the while she keeps going, keeps sucking and licking and feeling his body shake beneath her mouth.

That's the only comfort she can get. That he's obviously affected by her, still so, so affected.

And then it's over, and he has her curled into his chest like some kind of beloved pet.

She should be disgusted by what Damon has just done to her, and part of her is…

But it's only a part of her, and that's the scariest thing of all.

Who the hell is she?

And then, with nothing more than one, wild gasp, she wakes up.

She's still in her motel room, still tangled up in those same striped, motel-issued sheets.

Panting, Elena brings her hands up, covering her entire face before sobbing uncontrollably.

She's so confused.

"Why, Damon? Why?"

('Because you'll forgive me, you'll forgive me anything…') his voice echoes, bouncing forebodingly off those thin walls surrounding her, choking her.

"No," she whispers.

('Because you're mine, because even if I did this… you'd feel for me)'

She doesn't answer.

She just watches the stars until they all fade away.

When morning comes it's her turn to mail a letter.

No, it's because I hurt you. I hurt you by running.

And now you're hurting me back.

You're getting even with me.

Well you've succeeded, Damon.

You've driven me to the brink of insanity.

You and my guilt….

You've gotten your revenge.

Now leave me alone.

I don't know what this is, but it isn't love.

Elena

Tbc…

How was it?

Damon's very hurt…and angry. So he is lashing out a bit…BUT Elena's letter is going to scare Damon.

There are lighter times ahead for these two…along with more smut. Much more smut ;)

Please be kind guys ;)