Vampire Diaries Elena And Damon Dance の小説・ストーリー

Damon's eyes met mine, sparkling with a mix of mischief and longing. "I want to dance with you," I yelled and we found our way to the center of the dance floor, where bodies writhed and moved harmoniously. The music coursed through our veins, compelling us to sway, twist, and grind together. With every beat, Damon and I became entangled in a passionate dance, where our bodies communicated a language that transcended words. As our fervour reached its zenith, Damon's grip tightened around my waist. He pulled me discreetly to the edge of the pulsating chaos, his touch melting my inhibitions. In the hidden alcove, away from prying eyes, our breaths mingled in the charged air.

Almeera managed to make a vampire shudder in horror with just a glance as if she was more terrifying than the mythological creature. “You… refuse to be touched? Though I offer incomparable pleasure, Damian," she said, again. ***

When the final notes faded, Elena turned the volume down and turned to look at him again. Damien was in shock; no woman had ever danced for him. Her lithe form had flowed with the music and her voice had harmonized with the vocals from the man singing the song. The total effect was one of wonder and to his mind, magic. When the song faded and she turned to look at him, his first reaction was to howl his appreciation. He wanted to give her back some of the magic she had given him. He sat back on his haunches and filled his lungs, tapping into those deep emotions and the all-consuming love he had for her; he howled.

“But if you want someone who actually sees you tonight… I’m right here.” She kissed him first. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was angry and hungry and desperate. Damon made a low sound in his throat and pulled her closer, one hand sliding into her carefully styled updo, loosening pins until her dark hair tumbled down her back. He tasted like beer and mint, and his mouth moved against hers with a confidence Marcus had never shown. “Fuck,” he muttered against her lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Elena climbed into his lap, her heavy wedding gown bunching around her thighs. The silk pressed against his dress pants. She could feel him already hard beneath her. She rocked against him once, e

The fact that a bodyguard watches Turkish movies is more surprising. “Of course.” Eren wobbles, his mouth full with popcorn. “Which season is it?” “Last on.” I reply shortly, observing him while his eyes are plastered on the screen. Even while eating like a monkey he looks so cute. “So.” He swallows everything in his mouth and looks at me. “Delena or Stelena?” Easy question. “Delena.” I choose surely. He raises a brow. “Because?” “Uh.” I trail off, mentally preparing my script. “Damon lits up a fire in Elena. He makes her feel alive, passion and different. They have a strong chemistry and together they are intense.”

Tonight, she called them with nothing but a look. Damon came first, wolf-quick, a hurricane wrapped in laughter. He caught her at the base of the ancient altar stone, mouthed hot, wet kisses up her thigh, his tongue seeking the seam of need she’d worn all day. He teased at her entrance, dragging out noises she almost resented him for, then drove fingers into her, thumb circling the ache of her clit until she shuddered. When she came, Elena bit his shoulder hard enough to taste the promise of blood.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, dolcezza.” Elena lifted her chin. “I didn’t realize talking was off-limits.” His fingers traced the bare skin of her back, sending an involuntary shiver through her. “With him, it is.” Before she could argue, he pulled her onto the dance floor. The music shifted to something slow and sensual, the kind of melody that forced bodies close and breath to mingle. “Damien—” “Dance.” His voice was low, commanding. Elena clenched her teeth but obeyed, knowing fighting him here would only give him more power.

Aria's breath caught. They walked to the dance floor together. Elena's champagne gown flowing behind her, Damian's hand at the small of her back—the same possessive touch he used on Aria. The crowd parted for them. Whispers followed. Approving nods. They looked perfect together. Elena tall and poised, Damian dark and commanding. Like they'd been designed to stand beside each other. The music swelled. Damian's hand moved to Elena's waist. Her hand came to his shoulder. They began to move.

The vampires in attendance applauded their perfect union. Then the ball began, vampires in timeless, elegant attire sweeping across the dance floor. Damon and Serena were at the center of it all, her body pressed against his. They performed the traditional rites of vampire nobility—cheeks touching, foreheads pressed together, fangs ghosting over the side of the neck. It was a courtship signal. I thought of just a few hours ago, when Damon was in my bed, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Now he was holding another woman in the exact same way.