Title: Confessions of a Baby Vampire

Part: One of ?

Author: Roguie/SunSpecOps

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Damon/ Elena

Rating: M – harsh language, explicit sexual situations (solo and pair), and a little bit of creativity to spice it all up – iow: blood play, because damn it, these are vampires! Not safe for work or kiddies.

Spoilers: Up to and including Graduation.

Summary: The Boarding House is feeling a little full these days, forcing Damon to dip into his endless well of creativity to see that Elena's dreams come true. Spans the summer post Graduation.

Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries quite obviously don't belong to me, I just like to borrow the characters and mutate their inner voices. Please don't sue, my house is small, my car is useless and my dogs are pains in the arse, but they're all I have.

A/N: This particular story will be my Damon/Elena smut sandbox for the twenty weeks between now and the premiere, and as such, each chapter from here forward will be at its highest rating. Please remember, reviews are gold, and I'm just a poor girl, please don't forget to donate. I'm not shy, please don't be shy around me. :)

~~~VV~~~

It wasn't that he hadn't tried to be patient, he honestly had. Weeks had spanned between the morning she'd met him in his bed, her wicked lips proving exactly how innocent sinful could appear, and the night she'd finally whispered I love you into his desperate kiss, free of everything holding them back. Those weeks had been filled with the most desperate longing, for a while on his part alone as he'd watched her come undone from herself. When they'd finally met in that desperate embrace in front of the fire on graduation night, he thought, this was it, nothing could stop them now. Instead, Ric was still there, skulking around his liquor and Stefan was caught red handed trying to sneak away with Lexi, not to mention Elena's desperation to say goodbye to Jeremy. Then Katherine got involved, Ric, Stefan, Lexi and Bonnie all disappeared, and when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, Jeremy Gilbert remained solid.

He'd understood the first night, when she'd dragged herself home, showering off the blood from her battle with Katherine only to come downstairs and find Jeremy at their doorstep with nowhere else to go. The Gilbert's had spent hours together in front of the fire, sparing each other nothing as they went over their time apart, relearning how to be together in a world where now neither specifically fit. Damon had gone to bed alone, late in the night, his body humming with energy all concentrated on Elena, but he wouldn't come between her and her brother, not on that night.

The next morning he prepared Jeremy a comfortable room in Stefan's end of the house, far away from where human ears could hear and be traumatized by what two young and in love vampires could get up to any hour of the day. It was a genius idea, really, Elena turned those beautiful chocolate brown eyes on him, filled with gratitude, love and promise; Jeremy grunted his appreciation as he tossed himself down on the ridiculously soft king size mattress, not even bothering to check out the four piece ensuite or the Juliette balcony before closing his eyes against the morning sun. It was win win with the Gilberts, and as for Damon? Honestly, he wasn't having the 'we can't, what if my brother can hear' conversation when he was a tongue and two kisses past the point of being able to stop without seriously injuring himself. Dealing with one overly sensitive baby brother was enough for a lifetime; this time he was taking no chances.

That had been three very long days ago.

They'd turned to each other a half hour after Jeremy had finally fallen asleep, wicked little smiles curving their lips, Elena's "I'm still pissed with you, Damon," swallowed easily by his kiss, his hand sliding up the sensitive skin covering her ribs, helpless to stop the dark veins from skittering across his eyes as his fangs lengthened and sharpened against her flesh. It had been too fucking long since he'd been free to touch her, sweet tendrils of her scent surrounding him, mesmerizing him as he breathed her in, letting himself drown in the sensation of her settled into his lap, heated moisture rocking against aching steel, while her greedy little mouth devoured every inch of his skin she could reach. His agonized groan spoke volumes when she lost control of her own nature, one sharp little fang catching the soft flesh of his shoulder, drawing blood, rolling his eyes back into his head as he was helpless to stop the hard thrust of his hips upwards, never cursing the rub of fabric over muscle more than in that very second.

The sound of the front door swinging open, slamming back against the wall with a sharp crack, startled them apart. They held each other's gaze for a single beat of their racing hearts before Damon sped to the door and Elena to the top of the stairs, both in full vampire mode, her only thought for her brother's safety. The small body stumbling through the door, falling to its knees, its heartbeat familiar and unmistakeable did nothing to soothe Elena's inner predator.

It took them the entire day to find some place to stash the newest addition to the human race once Damon convinced Elena that the cells beneath their feet were unsuitable for the five hundred year old female currently trembling at their feet. She was weak with humanity, starved for nutrition, and shamed by her need for assistance, but in the end, Katherine Pierce would not be staying at the boarding house. Humanity had apparently caught up with Rebekah Mikaelson as well, and her empty home was offered to the elder doppelganger while the original sister travelled the world. A more permanent option could be found in the autumn, but for now, out of sight out of mind was the option Damon liked the most.

By the time he'd gotten back from getting Katherine settled into the mansion, Jeremy had awakened, and Elena's attention was once again lost to her brother. Damon tried not to react negatively, not even when he walked into his kitchen to find the disaster they'd left from cooking themselves dinner. His teeth ground together silently while he worked to clean up the mess, leaving nothing but perfection in his wake before returning to his drink cart and pouring himself the largest shot of whiskey he'd taken since the night he'd learned of the sire bond. When he finally went to bed that night, he lay down facing his door, what was left of his anger melting away as he listened to the Gilbert's talk, the pure joy in Elena's voice enough to lull him into a deep sleep that he was damned sure he didn't deserve.

The next day, what Damon had come to term the "Jeremy situation" started to become apparent. Damon found him perched on the counter in the kitchen sometime around noon, carrying on a conversation with the wall. Yeah, Damon was glad that Ric was back in one form or another, thrilled that they had a chance to all be together, but the last thing he needed on Elena's mind when he had her bent over the stairway railing, desperately seeking a painstakingly well-deserved release, was whether or not Ric was on the sofa three feet away, or if Jeremy was about to walk through the door and catch them.

The worst part about the 'Jeremy situation', however? Damon highly suspected that his good buddy Ric was secretly training little Gilbert to become a professional fucking cock blocker. Every single moment he and Elena finally found themselves alone, every time they let themselves get a little carried away, baby brother managed to find himself right in the middle of it with what amounted to be a pointed message directly from Casper the drunken poltergeist, specifically designed to ruin the mood and give the kid a laugh that Damon was starting to honestly despise. With each passing comment, Damon's will to keep Jeremy alive faded just a little more, and if it wasn't for Elena's hand on his arm, the kid would probably have found himself with a broken neck the second time he'd forced his sister into leaving the increasingly desperate vampire high and dry.

"Seriously, dude, we EAT at that table!" cost Damon a thousand dollar vase that shattered against the wall two feet to the left of Jeremy's head.

"I've seen the size of your room, Damon, don't you think you've got enough wall space in there to maybe lay off defiling the very public hallway?" cost Damon a priceless painting as it landed on the bannister post, tearing through the canvas irreparably.

Tonight, however, was the last straw. Desperate for contact, when he'd caught Elena leaning into the fireplace, arranging newspaper and kindling, a dozen soft candles lit throughout the room, he'd blinked to her side in record time, his ungentle fingers immediately finding the curve of her hips, pulling her back against the aching hardness stretching out the front of his jeans.

She slipped from his grip and spun in his arms in seconds, the force of her actions knocking a candle into the waiting kindling, the newspaper and dry wood immediately setting to flame, filling the room with a warm glow. She met his kiss with eager lips and tongue, groaning into his crushing hold on her body, her own nails digging into his biceps, drawing small half-moons of blood. They were on their knees on the soft rug beneath them before either had taken a breath, her shirt suddenly a rag in his fingertips a half second before she found herself on her back, his lips and teeth grazing her instantly pebbled nipples, teasing her without mercy as she writhed beneath him, a slave to wicked sensation.

Only when her fingers slid to the front of his jeans, cupping him, glorying in the feel of him hardening painfully further against the zipper keeping him contained, only when his eyes closed tightly while she deftly freed his button and began her torturously slow path downwards with warm fingers and cold metal, only when Damon finally believed there may indeed be a God because he was about to step into a Heaven that had too long been closed to him, only then did Jeremy's presence in the doorway become a bucket of ice water poured down Damon's overheated flesh.

"Candles? Seriously? Don't you guys think burning one house to the ground is enough this year?"

And Damon saw red.

Jeremy's gaze flicked to a chair in the corner for a quick second before he laughed outright and took off for the door. Caught up in his half lowered pants and Elena's stern but concerned gaze holding him in place, Damon let the kid make his escape into the night. Instead of chasing him, the vampire strode purposely towards the chair Jeremy had glanced to and towered over it menacingly, having known Alaric long enough to glare exactly at the spot his eyes would have been.

"You think you're being funny, brother?" Damon cocked his head to the side, an evil grin curling his lips. "You think you're getting under my skin? I'll let you in on a little secret. We kept the lease on your loft, Ric, and everything in it. So you keep playing your little games with Whoopie Junior, and maybe that will keep your mind off what I may be doing in your bed… on your table… on your kitchen fucking counter." His grin widened, his devilish blue eyes sparkling in the light of a dozen tiny flames. "Or tag along if your imagination just won't do it for you."

"Damon!"

He turned his head at Elena's horrified gasp, a rush of blood staining her cheeks pink even while he soothed her with a calm look and offered her a saucy wink.

"Loosen up, Elena. I haven't even mentioned the fun we could be having with his precious weapons collection." He winked one more time before turning back to glare at the nothingness. "Give a buddy a break, Ric, before I accidentally break your new toy." He flicked his gaze to where Jeremy had been standing a minute before. "You know us big, bad vampires. We'll do just about anything for a little entertainment."

With that, he spun on his heel, storming out of the room and into his own, reaching for his cell phone, finding his list of most trusted contractors, and beginning to dial. This, whatever it was with the four of them in one house, needed to come to an end. Quickly. Luckily, Damon had more than enough money to get whatever he wanted accomplished in a minimum amount of time.

After all, he was fairly sure that Jeremy's life quite literally hung in the balance.

~~~VV~~~

On some level, Damon figured he should have told Elena his intentions with the ruin that had been home to her through her entire life. Four hundred dollar shoes were not meant to be treading through charred wood and ash, nor were his Armani pants meant to be ruined by the pull of loose nails and warped metal as he carefully climbed to the reinforced remains of the second level.

The fire crew had done a decent job. They'd responded fast enough that Elena's room was mostly recognizable. No furniture could be saved, destroyed by smoke, heat and water, but some tiny little items remained somewhat untouched.

He sifted silently through the remains, slowly gathering mostly intact pictures, some notebooks and little items that had been present in her desk and dresser, tucking each little treasure gently into the duffel bag he'd brought with him for this single purpose. He crossed the room carefully, avoiding the weakest areas on the floor by staying mostly on the stronger crossbeams that had been exposed by the heat below. For old time's sake, he stood by the remains of the big bay window that had served as his secret access to Elena in the times before she'd been free to love him the way he'd always loved her. If he could allow himself a moment to be truly sentimental, he was sure he'd find tears in his eyes when it sank home that there would be no more evenings watching the moon rise and set to the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat from this particular window seat. They'd never be able to revisit the spot he'd told her that he loved her for the very first time. Their first real kiss was on the porch that would be torn down and removed tomorrow. The bed he'd spent hours upon, convincing himself that just lying next to her would be enough to keep him sated, would be dragged to a dump and would never smell of her again. Every momentous moment she'd had in her life before the Salvatores, everything that made her into the woman who set fire to his long dead heart had happened here, had been reflected upon here, where she'd been most safe. After tomorrow, nothing she'd always known would remain.

Rage flickered behind his eyes for a brief moment, at himself, at Silas, at Katherine, even at Jeremy, just for having the gall to go and die, but just like that it was gone again. He forced a slow breath through his lips and marvelled at the simple fact that they'd been given a reset. The horrors of the last few months could be swept under a rug and forgotten. They were all alive, the big bad was deadish, little Gilbert was home safe and sound, and he'd gotten the girl. The beautiful, exotic, immortal girl that was slowly healing every blister and hole in his soul, carving herself so deeply into his heart that she'd become the very breath in his lungs, the very blood in his veins. Without her, he was sure he'd desiccate immediately, copying Ric and falling dead to the ground if life ever fled from her form. It terrified him how intricately she'd become woven into him, the thread to his fabric, the color to his hue, the reason he'd lived one hundred seventy years in misery only to feel more alive now than when he'd been human. He knew without a single moment of doubt that Elena Gilbert had been born for him as surely as he had been for her, and every rotten, aching minute they'd spent separate from each other had been written before they met, a tragedy to bring them together, a song to force them to dance, a poem to encompass their immortality because no sixty some years could ever be enough to burn through the passion between them. Apart, they'd earned their immortality through suffering events that no human should have to bear. Together, they would relish what they'd earned. She was his reward; he wasn't going to squander a moment of however many millennia they would be allowed.

He shook himself free of his reverie, allowing his gaze to drop to the ruined window seat one final time, frowning softly as he noticed for the first time that the seat was hollow. He easily removed the ruined cushions from the frame and gazed into the secret compartment, filled with stacks of journals, completely unharmed by the storm that had descended upon the house. Some of the journals were years old, filled with a childish scrawl that became more and more defined as time passed. With reverence, he placed every one of them into the bag, a piece of her childhood that had survived, memories that she no longer had to carry only inside and he rejoiced silently in his find. The last journal he pulled from its home had been stuffed hastily inside, slid down behind the others on the side, tucked away from prying eyes.

Curiosity had him open the book, immediately recognizing the date on the first page as the day Elena had spent in transition, the first words probably written before she and Stefan had been taken away to face the unpredictable horrors of that day. He scanned through the pages briefly, not really reading, only noticing that each and every page was filled with her perfect penmanship, each change in ink noted by a new date at the top of a fresh page. His fingers trembled visibly as he realized what he held in his hands: every single thought and feeling with which Elena had struggled since the moment she'd tasted human blood and forever took on an entirely new meaning.

He groaned softly, soot covered fingers running through black hair, as he struggled with his need to know what she'd thought during moments that eviscerated him with his need for her. Had she been there with him, suffering as he'd suffered, as they'd struggled to make the right decisions for his own little brother, so easily lost to the darkness?

The only thing that kept him from sitting down on the ruined carpet and reading the little book from start to finish was the thought of what the moulding fabric beneath his feet would do to his pants, not to mention the possibility of a painful, if temporary, death should the floor finally give way and send him crashing into the cement basement. In the end, he snapped the book closed with determination and slipped it into the bag with the rest of his recovered treasures from Elena's human life. He zipped the bag closed tightly and slipped it over his shoulder, easily carrying the weight as he turned to take one last look around the room.

When his eyes lingered one final time on Elena's bed, he caught sight of a small bit of brown fabric peeking out from under the stained and sodden pillows. His heart stuttered slowly and for a brief moment he dared to hope that he could save one last thing from the wreckage. He moved slowly towards the bed, pulling back the layers of moulding bedding to uncover the greatest treasure for which he could have asked. Fur stained black with soot. Brown glass eyes turned white by heat. The innocent scent of Elena drowned out by the stink of rot, smoke and mould, but it was her bear none the less.

Finding all that he came for, Damon tucked the decimated bear under his arm and left the ruins of the Gilbert house for the final time. Tomorrow there would be nothing left but foundation. He tucked the bag into the backseat of his Camaro, but hid the teddy bear in the trunk. When she needed it most, he'd see that it found her, but until then, until he could have it repaired and restored, it would be his very well kept secret.

The boarding house was quiet when he arrived. Elena was spending the afternoon with Caroline, and he really didn't care where little Gilbert had gotten off to. It was enough that he was able to climb the stairs to his bedroom without interruption, laying the bag of goodies next to Elena's side of the bed.

He kicked off his ruined shoes, letting them land in the corner where he could assess the damage another day. His nose wrinkled as he caught scent of himself, his skin, hair and clothing reeking of barbequed homestead and he stormed into his bathroom, turning the shower on as he began peeling his clothing from his skin.

He crossed back into his bedroom stark naked, reaching into a drawer to pull out a fresh pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, turning back and tripping over the bag he'd just placed on the floor minutes before. He cursed under his breath as he drove his elbow into the corner of his dresser, wincing and shaking out the offended limb until the small bit of pain faded. He fiddled with his clothing momentarily before tossing it onto his bed, reaching down to open the bag and pulling out the last journal, his fingers hesitating as they brushed over the soft leather cover.

He cursed again, closing it quickly, climbing to his feet and heading back into the bathroom, dropping the book onto his counter, purposely turning his back to the tempting little find. He made it clear across the bathroom floor, inches from crawling into the hot, steaming water and ridding himself of the rancid stench of smoke before turning on his heel and grabbing the book back.

Two minutes. He'd read for two minutes and then it was shower time. He just couldn't help himself; all the questions, all the words, all the fucking feelings she'd processed while she was flying high on the intoxication of fresh immortality. He knew the kind of vampire she could be, he knew how much fun they could be if he could just get her to let loose and enjoy, and something told him that the key to unlocking that side of her, the Damon side of her, was in this little book hidden so hastily amongst the innocence of her childhood. When was the last time she'd written in it? The night she'd broken up with Stefan? The night he'd sent her home from the cabin? The night they'd brought home Jeremy's body and everything she could have been was irrevocably altered? God, he needed to know more than he needed his next breath, and there was no way he could stop himself from opening to a random entry. Her exquisite penmanship etched across his brain as if she were writing the words directly upon him, her voice filling his mind as he slowly began to read thoughts no one but she'd ever known.

His heart pounded heavily, his breathing coming in gasps, and as he looked down to what was written on that page, a soft groan slipped past his lips.

"Elena, fuck," he whispered to himself, unable to stop the sudden rise of his aching cock as each word filtered past his disbelief.

October 31st

It's happening, exactly like I thought it would. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but now? Now I don't have a choice. Damon's with me, always with me, making sure I don't go too far, but how can I live with myself after tonight?

Taking blood should be nothing more than necessary. I need it to survive, they have it to spare. I knew I could stop myself with Damon's hand on my neck; he'd never let me lose myself in a kill, but I wanted more. God, I wanted more, and he let me have it. No one who knows me would have recognized the animal I became; kids my age became nothing more than a source of food and I loved it. I don't know how many I fed off of, but it was a lot. Boys, girls, they were all just necks filled with blood, and I wanted to tear through them all.

But he was there, nearby, the same instincts on overdrive, feeding my own needs. It was terrible. God, it was beautiful. Blood on both our faces, fangs down, and we were so alive!

I screwed it all up, though. He was with me, I was with him, skin on skin, bodies moving together to this thrumming beat that I don't think I can name, but it felt so good. His hands were all over me, pulling me to him, letting me lick the blood from his face, losing himself in the pleasure.

It was too much. Way too much. Blood and music and sex all rolled into this one overwhelming feeling, pooled like lava between my legs, threatening to consume everything that made up me. The worst part was how badly I wanted it to. I could feel how hard he was, every single time I brushed up against him. I could see how determinedly he fought to keep the monster in check, but how easy it was to make his eyes darken with a single shift of my hips. He had his fangs down and I wanted them inside me so badly that it hurt. Even as I was laughing, holding his achingly open gaze, licking my fingers clean of his meal, I wanted to be inside him just as desperately.

If Bonnie hadn't been there, it would have happened. There's no doubt in my mind. I couldn't have stopped myself and knowing how much he loves me, I don't think he could have either. This is bad. Like, really bad. I'd have completely obliterated my relationship with Stefan for one night of blood and sex with Damon.

Who am I?

Am I 'that girl'? Am I the Katherine of today? The one that uses one and loves the other? Do I love them both? Or is Damon right and all that's happening here is that I'm lying to myself?

Because if I'm being at all honest with anyone? I wish Bonnie had stayed home. I'd do just about anything to get that feeling back, and I'm pretty sure it has less to do with the blood than having my own personal saviour (demon?) at my fingertips, for once happy, and unafraid to show me who he is inside.

How do I fix this?

How do I tell Damon that I love the monster, when I've done nothing but deny that side of every vampire I know?

How do I tell Stefan that he's not enough anymore, because he can't ever be what I need and still maintain any semblance of control?

How do I go back, when all I want to do is run to the boarding house, sneak up the stairs, slip into his bedroom and ensure that Damon doesn't spend a second more taking care of himself? He dropped me off two hours ago, and every single atom of my body is still focussed on him. I don't know how much longer I can fight it, not now, how could I ever? It's going to happen, God, I can still taste him. And I want more.

~E

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He knew she'd been drawn to him, but to know now that any move forward on his part would have shattered her defenses? He groaned quietly, rereading how badly she'd wanted him to drink from her, how desperately she'd wanted to tear into him, and the longing threatened to rip him apart from the inside out.

His dick stood rock hard and at attention as he closed his eyes, bringing to mind the memory of that night as clearly as if he were there again. The entire experience had been overwhelming, watching her feed, watching her become the physical embodiment of everything he'd dreamed her to be. Christ, how he'd ached for her that night, he was right there with her, letting her grind against him, pulse around him, lick his fucking meal from his face and forcing him to swallow his need to share hers directly from her vein.

He slammed the tiny book closed and stepped into his now too hot shower, closing his eyes against the powerful flow of water, pressing one hand to the tile and leaning heavily against it as his other strayed south, his long fingers circling his throbbing erection, squeezing firmly as his potent memory brought back the sweetest sensations of that night. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her under his fingertips, his own flesh under hers; the creature inside him had struggled that night, showing its face through skittering veins and elongated teeth destined for the vein of his mate.

Damon groaned loudly, his head tipping forward to rest against the cool ceramic as he pulsed and swelled impossibly larger in his own fist. Fuck, he needed her, the night of the rave, tonight, it didn't matter, he needed her.

He closed his fist tighter around his swollen flesh, an indescribable sound leaping from his lips as the head grew larger, his skin stretching and pulling taught under his practiced touch, his fingers replaced by the memory of hers, soft skin, gentle touch, dark veins flickering as her lips would meet his. He could almost feel the whisper of her breath across his cheek as she would kiss a burning path to his ear, cocking her head to the side to provide full access to her throat as she'd whisper the three most damning words in his ear.

"Bite me, Damon,"

"Jesus, fuck!" The words slipped from his lips in a strangled cry as the image practically burned itself into his brain.

He could see himself lowering his lips to her throat, he knew exactly how she'd smell, exactly how she'd taste when his fangs separated her tender flesh, slipping inside her, freeing her blood to flow into his mouth. He could almost hear her panting gasps for air, that sweet little cry that would fill his hearing as he punctured her, the press of her palm to the nape of his neck, holding him to her as he drew the very life from her veins. His hips lurched into his hand without control, his own whimpers filling the heated air in the shower while he took the fantasy one step further, so lost in the taste of her blood that he hardly noticed when her own lips found his throat, found the throbbing, pulsing vein that offered salvation to her parched tongue. When he came, it was to the sensation of her sharp as fuck, tiny little fangs slipping into his body, her hot lips pressed to his skin, his blood freely given and greedily taken by the one person on earth who had the power to bring him to his knees. She could carve his heart from his chest and he'd offer it willingly and without remorse so long as she did it with his cock buried inside her, and her fangs ripping him apart.

He groaned quietly, carefully stroking the last trembles of sensation from his over sensitive dick, the seed he'd spilled into his hand slickening the process until the heated water washed the evidence of his passion quietly away. He stood under the water for long minutes, washing away the remains of the Gilbert house from his flesh, washing the desperate thoughts of Elena from his mind. It didn't matter what he'd missed then, so much has happened since; he got the girl, she was with him, they'd have eternity to bring to life each and every fantasy she'd ever had, and he'd spend the rest of his undead existence making sure they did.

His head snapped up quickly as he heard the tell-tale creak of the front door swinging open, and the arrival of one soft, slow heartbeat in the house. He leapt from the shower, wrapping a towel carelessly around his hips, grabbing the journal that suddenly filled him with a sense of trembling guilt and blurring across the room to hide it deep in the drawer of his end table. Before shutting the drawer, however, a random thought crossed his mind; his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed before a wicked smile gave life to the devilish idea that immediately had his recently sated cock jumping behind the inadequate cover of terry cloth.

Sure, they had eternity to bring all of Elena's fantasies to life. God knows, it could take that long just to make sure they achieved each and every one to perfection. Then again, why wait for eternity? He had a handful of her fantasies at his fingertips right now, and he was more than willing to give them all a college try.

His smile gave way to an unadulterated grin that dripped sex and promise before he turned to the door, his voice dropping into the half growl half whisper that never failed to immediately bring Elena's body to aching attention.

"Elena? How do you feel about going out tonight?"

~~~TBC~~~~

Author's Note: So folks, here we are at the start of what may turn out to be one of my more epically long tales. As such, I could use your help. Each chapter from here forward will be the fulfillment of one of Elena's fantasies that Damon has found in her journal – now I have a particularly impressive imagination, but there are only so many ways I can think of for them to knock boots, so to speak. Any suggestions for fantasies, please let me know, and I will integrate them into the coming chapters. The intention is to write one chapter a week, fulfil one fantasy a week until October when we've got them back on screen. I'm also a very open writer, there isn't much I haven't dabbled in, so I'm happy for any prompt. These are Elena's fantasies, who am I to say any one of them is wrong? And I highly doubt Damon would turn her down for anything. :) Thanks for your help in advance! And I'm looking forward to hearing what you have to think, so don't forget to drop me a line!