A/N: Inspired by a quote by Daniel Gillies in regards to Elena being a vampire. Remember: No matter how hard you think you ship Elena/Elijah, no one ships it harder than Daniel Gillies. Thanks to Magisterequitum for the beta!

Learning Just to Let it Go

()()()()()

He opens the door and she knows this isn't a mistake. This is Elijah, and she can trust him. (If she weren't already dead, she would have died when she learned that she couldn't trust anyone else.)

"Elena," he says softly. (Only his eyes - gentle and so beautifully brown - give away his surprise at seeing her, and only for the briefest of seconds.)

"I didn't know where else to go," she says in explanation.

"Please, come inside," he offers. He steps back and ushers her in with the barest guidance of his hand on her arm.

"Thank you," Elena says, grateful to be out of the biting cold. (Everything is heightened.) She reluctantly hangs up her coat and scarf and toes off her boots. Her wool socks keep her feet toasty and she has to stop herself from intentionally sliding on the polished wood floors.

"Word is that you've been away from Mystic Falls for a while now."

She nods, unsurprised that he's kept tabs on the on goings of Mystic Falls. "I've been just sort of roaming around for a month or so, I guess. I spent some time at Alaric's old apartment, then at the lake house. I visited Richmond and then took a drive down to Norfolk. And then I came looking for you."

"I must admit I am surprised you found me," he confesses as they walk to the kitchen.

"I took a chance and asked Kol," she says with a satisfied smirk. "He owed me one."

Elijah raises a brow at this as he pulls two blood bags out of the refrigerator. "I am even more curious to know what hold you could have had over Kol. He is not the sort to be tamed."

"I wasn't trying to tame him," Elena admits. "He needed my help for something and I negotiated."

Elijah chuckles and it's warm and rich, melting over her in delightful waves. She's never actually heard mirth from him before and it gives her a tingly feeling she hadn't thought was possible.

"May I ask what help you have given him?"

"Kol didn't want Klaus to be able to make more hybrids, so he didn't want me to be human. I only wanted to be a human long enough to get turned again, and he was willing."

Elijah is quiet at this. "Kol turned you?"

Elena nods. "I had Damon's blood last time and ended up sired to him. And the feelings felt so real, but he was miserable knowing that it could be fake."

"And being turned by someone you harbor no feelings for meant that you and Mr. Salvatore could be together truly," Elijah concludes.

"It didn't quite work out that way," Elena says self-deprecatingly. "Damon was furious that Kol turned me, even more when I told him it was what I'd wanted. He wanted me human. He didn't want to be human himself but he wanted me human."

"You're here so I can only assume that this led to irreconcilable differences."

Elena nods and finally bites into the blood bag like she's been wanting since he pulled it out. She drinks heavily, recognizing the type - O negative - and can even tell how fresh it is - donated two or three days ago.

"We tried to make it work for a week or two but he was so angry with me. But I did it for him, so we could finally be together. He just couldn't see that and started blaming Stefan and everyone else and before we knew it, he was off on one of his benders." She sighed heavily. "Apparently I'm not supposed to be allowed to think for myself."

Elijah nods. "You took back control of your life from those who have once had it."

"Jeremy can't even bear to look at me and Bonnie's furious. Caroline understands to a point and Tyler just doesn't care. Matt isn't talking to me either," she shares.

"They were okay that you left? It's always seemed that they preferred you on a tight leash."

"Yeah. I uh, I told them that I needed some time to figure everything out, on my own. They didn't argue, which is a first." She looks at him and takes a risk. "I lied to Caroline when I told her a few days ago that I needed more time; I could go back now. I already have it figured out, how I feel and what I want."

"And what is that?" Elijah asks after another few moments' silence in which she drains another bag.

She can feel a small bit of blood escape to stain the corner of her mouth. She smiles. "I feel like I can do anything, like I can finally start living again. I want to do what I want, and not what everyone else wants for me or from me or whatever."

Elijah just smiles slightly. "You are far more capable than any of them will give you credit for."

"And you've always seen that." Why else would he have been so insistent on dealing with her, rather than the multitude of people who would gladly jump at the chance to make her choices for her?

"What of your feelings for the Salvatores?" he questions as he takes the empty blood bags and throws them into the trash bin. It's such a mundane, human task, but he makes it look like a perfectly choreographed performance.

Elena takes her time, getting her words just right. "Honestly? I love them, but I'm just not in love with them. And I can see that now. Ever since I left Mystic Falls everything has been so much clearer. Its like that place was poisoning me, keeping me from growing." She shook her head. "It wouldn't have worked out with either of them, not like they wanted. They're better off without me, and they need each other more than they need me. And after I left, I realized that, which means I finally realized I'm better off without them." She sighs to herself and pushes her hair back behind her ear. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be unloading on you with all of this. You probably don't care about the latest and greatest drama of my love life."

Elijah is quiet as he moves so close to her. "I care very much, actually," he says. "In fact, hearing that you and the Salvatores have parted ways is of great interest to me. You could even say it rather delights me."

"Why?" she asks. Suddenly the air is thick and has a charge to it, as if a pivotal moment is upon them.

He tilts her head up so he can meet her eyes. "Because I have no reason not to do this," he answers. And then he kisses her.

His lips are firm against her own, brushing over hers gently. His hands settle on her body, one at her hip and another one just below her breast. She gasps at the forwardness of it all, the depth of emotion that she's feeling from him, and he wastes no time in searching her tongue out with his.

She manages to hold onto him as he deepens the kiss, cradling her body to his. She wants to touch every inch of him, with and sans suit. She's never been kissed like this in all her eighteen years, and she would swear that she's now ruined for the rest of her eternal life.

His hands are everywhere - running through her hair, caressing her sides, palming her breasts through her shirt. He kisses down her neck, making her gasp for unneeded air. Then his teeth graze at her pulse and all of a sudden, Elena's pushed them to the nearest soft surface and is biting him wherever her mouth can reach. She tears frantically at his clothing, making sure his tie is in a spot of safety (they could have fun with that) even as buttons go flying.

He chuckles and she scowls as she's pulling at his belt buckle. "Dammit Elijah, help me get these off!"

She knows she's been clear, but he obviously has chosen to intentionally misunderstand her order because he rips her shirt clear down the middle and a few seconds later, her jeans are useless as clothing. She finally gets the buckle undone and pulls him down on top of her after he kicks off his shoes. She enjoys being on top (always has) but she wants to feel the weight of him.

He licks the corner of her mouth (the blood) and Elena moans. In a masterful display of flexibility and determination, Elena hikes her legs up enough to use her feet and push his pants down. He's not wearing anything underneath and she grins. "Elijah Mikaelson," she says in a falsely chiding voice. "You're so indecent."

He continues to nibble at her ear. "You have no idea," he says lowly. "Of how indecent I can be."

"Then give me one," she orders. "Show me."

He raises his head and stares down at her. "As you wish, my lovely Elena."

()()()()()

Patience has never been one of her virtues, she'll admit. Elijah, however, is a devoted disciple of patience, judging by the way he's been taking his time kissing down every inch of her body. He'd peeled away her ruined clothing with agonizing slowness before setting himself to the task of mapping out her body with his tongue. Now he's paying special attention to the scar that adorns her lower right abdomen.

"What is the cause of this?"

"I had my appendix removed when I was thirteen," Elena gasps out when his fangs graze over the lightened scar tissue. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"No," he assures her. "It is wholly you." He kisses the scar and continues to kiss lower.

All she can do is tighten her hands' grasp of his hair and force his head lower. "So demanding," he chuckles.

He moves down her right thigh, and pulls away her lacy coverings with histeeth. Ignoring her insistence that he ply his attention to what he's just uncovered, he settles at her femoral artery, listening to the unsteady, dead pounding of her blood.

"Do it," she says. "Elijah, please." In that moment nothing else seems to matter, just his teeth in her.

He sinks his fangs into her flesh with a moan, and sucks gently to pull her blood into his mouth.

Elena's entire body shudders and with a gasp of Elijah's name, she comes.

()()()()()

She's breathless beneath him, a sated, deliriously happy, blissfully melted mess of a woman.

"Indecent enough?" Elijah asks with a smirk.

Elena smiles. "I could use some more proof."

"Then I suggest that we take this to a more suitable location, though I do believe I have never cherished a couch more."

"I'm pretty fond of it myself," she says with a throaty laugh.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy my bed just as much, if not more. It's quite sturdy; a couple could indulge in many a manner of things, were they so inclined." He kisses her again.

"Is that so?" She asks against his lips.

"I give you my word."

They walk upstairs, lazily, side-by-side and unconcerned of their nakedness. If their hands reach out from time to time to touch the other, all the better. When they reach his bedroom and he opens the door, she pulls him inside and then pushes him back onto his bed.

"Now," Elena says with a predatory smile, straddling him. "Where were we?"

"I believe we were right at the part where we indulge ourselves until the sun comes up again," he answers. Appreciation is clear in his eyes as he licks his lips still stained with her blood.

"It's a good part."

Elena takes her time with him. This is all so new and she wants to savor the moment. She wants to enjoy being free to savor the moment, to care for her pleasure every bit as much as his. He's below her, spread like a bronzed god for her taking.

So she takes.

He seems content to enjoy her attentions. His neck fascinates her; he always has a shirt with a collar and he usually has a tie... now his neck is bared to her and she takes her time mapping it out with her tongue, exploring the dips and crests. She has to strain to hear the pulsing of his dead artery, he's that old.

The impulse to bite him is strong and she risks everything to indulge. He doesn't stop her when her teeth puncture his skin, just groans and pulls her tighter to him. His blood is rich and thick in her mouth, the taste unlike anything she's experienced before. She stops herself after a few mouthfuls; she has things to accomplish after all.

His hands loosen around her as she kisses a path down his chest. It's firm and leanly sculpted - he'd been fit as a human, his arms especially. She bites one nipple, then the other, and continues her way down. Her tongue sweeps down his abs and lower on his pelvic bone. There's a faint trail of hair from his navel that she, feeling playful and caught up in the moment, nuzzles.

His hands rest gently on her head as she goes lower. There's no pressure, no guidance from him at all - this is entirely Elena's show. She licks down his erect cock before sucking on the tip of him, and then licks her way right back up again.

"Remind me to spend more time with that later," she orders with a smirk and straddling him again.

Elijah smiles lazily. "I'll be sure to note it in my planner."

"January 31st, 3pm, blow job with Elena," she teases.

"January 31st, 3:30pm, decide to keep Elena in bed for rest of the year," comes his parry. "What do you think?"

"Today's date, right now, realize that I'm happier now than I can remember being."

"Me too," he says simply.

She kisses him and they roll over. She could spend all day in his bed, delighting in its luxurious fusion of soft and firm, embracing the texture of the obscenely high-thread count sheets. The down comforter they have mussed around them is like a cloud. But none of it would have mattered if she weren't with him.

"This is nice," she says, cupping his face in wonder.

His stares down at her in awe. "It is," he agrees, and kisses her again.

They trade slow, lazy, gentle kisses, neither one in a rush to break the special intimacy they've created. There's a reassuring give-and-take as their hands roam. Time seems to have slowed down just for the two of them, just so they could have this.

Elijah is the first to shift their play into a more aggressive lean. His hands caress her breasts and he deepens the kiss. Elena sighs audibly and arches her back to place her breasts more firmly into his hands. She hikes her legs and wraps them around his hips - she's never been one for laying passive during sex.

"So eager," Elijah says with a chuckle.

"You have no idea," Elena moans with a cant of her hips.

"Haven't you learned that patience is a virtue?"

"I've learned that virtue is overrated." And she has; she's done being the good girl everyone expects her to be. Elijah has never expected it of her. Elijah fully understands her need to just be herself.

"So instead of wanting me to take my time, bringing you so close to the edge you'd swear you could taste it, learning exactly what will make you shiver or elicit the barest of gasps, making sure that you never have a doubt as to the pleasure I wish to give you, you want me inside of you, taking you, ensuring you hold me in your body as you fall in ecstasy?" His words fan the fire in her that up until then had been a slow but sultry burn.

"For now? Yes," Elena says. She can feel it, feel his cock teasing her folds.

"Then your wish is my pleasure to fulfill."

He's gentle as he fills her, obviously enjoying every agonizing moment of sliding into her inch by inch. She claims his lips when he stops, arching her hips to draw him in that much deeper. He pulls out slowly, and then slides back in.

It's slow give - he draws a deep breath he doesn't need - and take - she exhales and clutches the pillow. Every thrust seems to send little shock waves throughout her body; her nerves are live wire. "More, Elijah, oh God more."

He still moves painfully slow, but there's an edge to his motions now, harder, deeper. Her nails claw their way down his back, her hips undulating to meet him. He kisses down her neck, biting with blunt teeth at her pulse. His hair is tangled in her fingers. She rolls her hips more forcefully in an attempt to get him to move the way she wants him too.

A chuckle is his maddening response.

"Elijah," she nearly whines - he pulls out almost entirely. "Please, just-"

"Hmm?" He arches a brow and she wants to wipe that smug, satisfied look off of his face. "What is it you want?"

No. Elena isn't going to beg. Not now. She narrows her eyes and finds it in her to flip them over. She pins his hands back on the mattress and slams down on his length, far more forcefully than he'd allowed himself to move. She sees his eyes roll back and she knows that for the moment, she's won.

She rides him, hard. He appears to have no problem with her enthusiasm, her desire for control right then and there. From the low moans she's eliciting from him, he's enjoying it, actually. She can probably say he's beyond pleased.

Nothing else matters but the in and out, up and down of their bodies. He moves his hips to meet hers and his hands (when she finally lets go of them - he doesn't keep them there because he's not exactly passive, either) busy themselves with caressing her body. They move together like they've always been with each other, as if they've always been lovers. Things she had no idea she loves, he knows. She feels as though she's known his body before.

Time is meaningless in the heat of it all. Somehow she finds herself on her back again; she doesn't mind - he's not teasing her anymore. Instead his eyes, dark with lust, capture hers as he thrusts. He worships her breasts with kisses, draws every possible moan and gasp from her lips. Elena's hands run through his hair and down to his shoulders. When he angles a thrust just so, she can't help it; her nails rake a deep claim down his back.

A leg is hooked over his shoulder; fingers ply her folds with attention; their rhythm continues to build, pull back, rise. Her head is thrown back from the force of it all; it's never been like this. He's saying her name over and over again as though in supplication. His clever fingers graze her clit just as an angled thrust sends fire through her. She comes, sinking her teeth into his neck. His thrusts falter and with a deep moan of her name that delights her, he finds his release.

()()()()()

If Elena were still human and naïve, or that vampire, she'd be expecting a declaration of love, either from herself or Elijah. But she's not human, she's no longer naïve, and from the vampire she was, she's been made new. She doesn't expect anything other than the warmth and understanding he's given her.

"Enjoying your view?" she asks playfully, eyebrow arched as she rests on her elbows.

He's on his side with a leg still tangled in her, fingers ghosting up and down her arm. His hair is in disarray and he has what she can only describe as a dopey smile on his face.

His gaze takes her in, her against the bedding, skin sweaty and glowing, hair tumbled around her shoulders. "I am," he says.

"Me too," she says with a giggle. And it's true - no sheet covers his body. She falls back against the bed, enjoying the cloud-like sensation of the comforter.

Elena is so incredibly happy. Everything has a golden light to it, no worries plague her mind. She feels as if she is ready for anything. Or will be after she's had a nap, she thinks with a yawn.

"Tired, my lovely Elena?" He's looking at her as if he's never seen anything or anyone more precious. She feels like the center of his world.

Elena smiles and she's aware that she most certainly looks goofy grinning so much. But she's happy, so it doesn't matter. "Elijah, you wore me out."

"My apologies," he offers with a smirk. "I shall be less vigorous in the future."

"Idiot!" she giggles, pulling him to her. "It wasn't a complaint. In fact, I'd say it's more of a challenge."

"Oh?" he adjusts the bedding so that it covers them both and shifts so that she can curl her body into his.

"Yeah, oh. You'll probably need your rest though, being so advanced in age and all." She rests her head on his chest and throws an arm over his middle.

Elijah drops a kiss on the top of her head. "You're going to pay for that, later," he says fondly.

"'m counting on it," Elena murmurs.

She's falls asleep in his arms and though she doesn't know it, he falls asleep soon after.

(Later, she does pay for her jab at his virility, though with the number of times she comes from his 'payback,' she's pretty sure she's the clear winner of the situation.)

()()()()()

Elena stays with him for the better part of a week.

Everything flows so naturally, between them. The talk, the sleep, the making love. It's as if they've always been this way, always had this level of intimacy.

One night they cook dinner together; another they dine at a high-end Italian place. They discuss the most recent books they've read (his list is far longer than hers, considering how hectic her life has been of late) and find that they have similar tastes in genres, but prefer different authors or approaches. He tells her stories of centuries past, of his travels in Europe, South America, and Asia. She shares her hopes and dreams for the future, and yes, her small but valid worry that those she's left behind will find a way to drag her back.

And there's the sex, obviously. Elena can't count the number of times she's flown apart at his hands. She can't count how many times he's begged her to give him release. She can, however, say with absolute certainty that no number will ever be high enough.

It's an unspoken truth between them, that they'll never get enough. She sees it in his eyes every time his gaze locks with her own. She knows she gives herself away in how she sleeps with him after, when she holds him so close.

If anyone says anything, it'll have to be her, she realizes. Not because Elijah wants to hear her say it first, but because he's always understood her need to do things on her own terms, to dictate her own path in a world that's sought to own and control her.

So she finally does so, one night, as they stand in the kitchen washing dishes, of all things. "I'm happy," she says, paying close attention to how she dries the fine china plate. (She broke one from inattention when she first started.) "Being here, with you, it makes me happy. I feel incredible." She finally looks at him.

He smiles, looking very relaxed with a dishtowel over his shoulder. "Me as well."

"This past week has been... everything I needed and everything I could have hoped for. And I'm hoping that you're okay when I say that I don't want this to be a one-off thing. I don't want this to end."

He nods, and she knows he's heard what she'd said. "I understand," he says. "And I feel the same. I have no desire to see our time together at an end."

"I know where I want this to go, I just need to know how you see it." She's nervous, so nervous, even though she knows he'd never do anything to make her uncomfortable or push her further than she's ready to go.

"I'm in no rush to get married, if that is your worry," he says. "This is new and you have lifetimes to decide what you want-"

"I want you, us," she interrupts.

"But you also want your space, a guarantee that you can continue to be your own person." There's no judgment in his words, but understanding and respect.

"And you're okay with that? So long as we're together? Like, exclusive together?" It's important and she has to make sure.

"Yes," Elijah says simply. "I would never try to hold you back from your life, Elena. I only wish to be a part of it."

Elena nods. It's so different, taking with him about their relationship, as opposed to when she was with Matt or Stefan, or even Damon. It's so mature, except for the part where they've been undressing each other with their eyes and turning the acts of dish washing and drying into something suggestive of other activities. "I have to admit I was surprised when you kissed me that night; I didn't think you'd ever-"

"I'd wanted to for far too long," Elijah says, stopping the doubt in her mind. "I will never regret waiting, however."

"If I'd still been human, would you have done it?" She's curious.

"Possibly, but most likely no," he answers. "Your supernatural paramours aside, I felt that I had little place in your world. You deserved a chance at a normal life, if possible."

"And now?"

Elijah smirked. "I believe the phrase is something along the lines of "game on."

Elena lets out a shriek of delight at his words. "Elijah!"

He shrugs and moves closer to her. "You asked, I answered. What point was there in holding back any longer?"

"And if I'd slapped you afterwards?" Not that she would have, he's never brought forth that kind of response.

"I would have accepted your decision and moved on." That doesn't surprise her. "But that wasn't the case, thankfully."

"Thankfully," Elena agrees.

It's the perfect domestic moment, the two of them working together with their understanding. He continues to wash and rinse and she continue to dry and store. Every so often their arms will brush against each other or their hips will touch. Their glances at one another are still heated and her use of the bottlebrush on their glasses couldn't be more obvious. But there's no rush, no frantic race to finish their task and move on to other things. Elena and Elijah are doing this their way.

It's perfect, actually.