Damon Salvatore sat before the roaring fireplace at the Salvatore Boarding House, cut-crystal glass of whiskey in hand.
He was in a mood, to put it lightly.
If Damon was being honest, he was tired. And frustrated. Frustrated with feeling things and not being able to do anything about them, constantly having to quell the urges pumping through his body because Damon, this is wrong, Damon, this isn't right . He was sick of having a conscience.
But he wasn't going to turn it off, because these feelings were the only thing that made immortality worthwhile.
Maybe that's why chasing Stefan, ruining his life -- maybe that's why it was so easy to keep going. To not even consider stopping.
Maybe that's why this hunger never went away.
Damon’s thoughts were shattered by the click of a doorknob behind him. Stefan was home. Normally this would be his que to gather up all of the half-baked, unprocessed emotions the alcohol had unleashed and haul them back inside himself, but he just didn't feel like it anymore. Not tonight.
Stefan shrugged off his jacket and walked slowly into the living room. Damon could almost feel his brother's eyes roving over his back, but he did not turn, only kept his eyes trained on the fires dancing before him.
Stefan broke the silence first. “You're here.”
Damon didn't move. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
“I was hoping you wouldn't be.”
Ouch. Normally this would be enough to send Damon into a much darker mood. A much more dangerous and volatile mood, where he couldn't care less about the consequences.
But not tonight.
Not tonight, because he had too many drinks in his veins, and it was taking all of the mess inside him and unraveling it until it was nothing but an unbound pile on his proverbial floor.
So Damon turned and faced his brother. Turned those ice-blue eyes on Stefan’s brown ones and asked, voice empty of malice or antagonism, “Why?”
Damon wasn't expecting Stefan’s face to twist with some unknown emotion. Did not expect Stefan to hesitate, to not have an immediate answer along the lines of, “Because you're evil, Damon. And you want to steal Elena from me.” Please. Damon wasn't even interested in Elena. If he was being honest, he didn't even really care about Katherine anymore.
A minute passed and Stefan still had not answered his question. Damon’s brows furrowed at the silence, and it was as he prepared to ask again that he finally scented his brother. Smelled him. Damon had smelled that scent on countless numbers of people -- men and women alike. It was unmistakable.
Slowly, very slowly, an old and forgotten memory rose from the depths of Damon’s mind. He tried desperately to ignore it, tried oh-so-hard not to remember the scene now plastering itself on the backs of his eyelids.
Stefan was looking at him differently now. Those honey-brown eyes now dragging slowly across Damon’s face, down the length of his jaw, to his lips, his throat, and down, down, down--
To his lap. To the dark, tight jeans Damon had slid on that morning.
This was not what Damon was expecting. And that memory still played endlessly throughout his mind, as if in answer to the unraveled mess of emotions inside him.
To what those emotions truly meant.
Finally, finally , after what felt like a lifetime spanning between them, Stefan answered his question. “Elena and I broke up.”
Damon continued to stare, unblinking, at his brother. Stefan did the same. Damon merely asked again, “Why?”
This time, his brother did not hesitate. “Because I don't want to be with her anymore.”
Dead. Silence. Even the fireplace seemed to have quieted at the declaration. Seemed to have dimmed.
Stefan continued, “Because I woke up this morning, Damon, and I remembered something I haven't thought about in a very, very long time, and I think I realized why you're really back in town.”
He and Stefan both then.
Perhaps Stefan had offered this memory to him. Had floated it to him the way vampires could.
“Did you now.” Not a question.
Stefan swallowed once, and Damon tracked every inch of the movement, watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
“You do remember, don't you?”
Any doubt in Damon’s mind that it hadn't been Stefan who’d made him remember evaporated in an instant as he was forced deep into the past, to before they were vampires--
“Brother, are you sure?”
Night had fallen on the Salvatore plantation. Animals called to one another as the nightly hunts began, and the moon hung low and full in the sky. Stefan and Damon had snuck out to the barn not far from the house, their father asleep and unaware back inside. The inside of the barn was warm, and hadn't actually known the presence of animals in years.
Damon had walked out toward the center of the barn, shafts of moonlight shining through an old hole in the ceiling and illuminating the earthen ground. Damon was unrolling a blanket across it, a particularly excited expression on his face as he answered Stefan, “I am. Are you?”
Stefan hung back in the shadows of the barn, nearer to the door. Anticipation and nervousness churned like the sea in his stomach, his fists curling and uncurling.
If he answered yes, there was no turning back from what they were about to do.
Stefan decided he did not want to turn back. Not after so many nights of caressing himself while thinking of things he shouldn’t ever have imagined, should never have found arousing. Not after countless days of watching his brother ride his horse down the length of their plantation, not after watching the curve of his muscles as he exercised.
Damon had finished spreading out the blanket, and now sat knelt before it on one knee, his body half-turned toward his brother. Stefan’s rich brown eyes found Damon’s blue ones in the dim light, and they shared a secret smile -- one that was both question and answer. Beginning and end.
“Yes, I'm sure.” Stefan breathed.
Damon grinned, wide and genuine, and strode toward where his brother lingered by the door, until they were body-to-body, faces mere inches from each other. Damon could feel Stefan’s breath on his face, excited and subdued, as he slowly, oh so slowly, traced a hand down Stefan’s shoulder, lightly tugging at the close fitted vest he wore over a pristine white shirt. The action sent nervous tingles free beneath his skin, as Damon’s hand slid across his collarbone and beneath the vest to palm Stefan’s pectoral. Stefan stepped ever closer, chest now pressed up against Damon’s, as his brother caressed and tweaked Stefan’s nipple through his vest.
All the blood in Stefan’s body went to his dick. This was wrong, so terribly wrong, and he loved it, wanted more of it. Body awakened by his brother's touch, Stefan reached for the hem of Damon’s own matching vest, and slowly undid the buttons. The two brothers kept eye contact throughout every ministration, every touch and flutter of nerves. Until both vests lay discarded on the floor of the barn, hands now roaming freely across each other's chests, Stefan gripping the hard muscle of Damon’s abdomen.
Such a charged, electric thing between them.
It was hard to tell what caused the shift, but with a loosed groan, Damon surged forward, capturing his brother's lips with his own as their bodies crashed together, arms wrapping around Stefan’s shoulders, covered dicks now rutting against each other as they curved around each other in the quiet of the barn, their lips moving the only sound.
This was new, uncharted territory for both of them. And they were hungry for it.
Their lips moved of their own accord as they kissed, Damon’s tongue pressing into Stefan’s mouth as the kiss deepened ever more, and Stefan moaned deeply, the sound vibrating throughout Damon’s mouth. Damon growled low in response and reached between them to palm Stefan’s cock through his breeches, the rock hardness of it nearly making him recoil in surprise.
So it's true, then, Damon thought , he does desire me the way I do him.
Damon could not put words to what that fact made him feel.
Stefan was the first to break away, their lips parting as Stefan dropped to his knees, mouthing down Damon’s torso as he went, leaving streaks of wet on his bare flesh. When his mouth reached Damon’s waist, Stefan turned his gaze upward, towards his brother. It took only a nod of approval before Stefan was pulling Damon’s breeches down and away from him, cock springing free, the sheer length of it hitting his cheek.
Stefan’s mouth watered.
Slowly, his tongue dragged up the underside of Damon’s cock, the texture feeling right somehow. Strong and hard, like Damon. Stefan wanted more. Without warning, he closed his lips over the bulbous head of Damon’s cock, kissing and licking and ripping unadulterated moans from his brother's mouth. Stefan tongued Damon’s slit and groaned deeply at the taste of him. It was unbelievable. He wanted Damon in his mouth all the time.
This was all the motivation Stefan needed, and he sank the rest of the way down, his brother's cock hitting the back of his mouth for a moment before being sucked down into his throat, and Stefan did not gag, was not even uncomfortable as he swallowed Damon entirely, earning a surprised shout from the latter brother. Damon could not believe the feel of his brother's mouth on his manhood, the sensations, the sight of Stefan with kiss-swollen lips stretched around him, brown eyes staring up at him innocently.
“Can I... can I fuck your mouth, brother?”
All Stefan could manage was a nod. It was all Damon needed, and he began to thrust. Hard. The explosion of nerves in his dick was obliterating, and he moaned openly as Stefan took him easily, Damon’s voice turned delicate and vulnerable with arousal.
They went on like this for a few moments more, Stefan on his knees just enjoying the relentless ramming of his brother's cock down his throat.
He wanted all of it. Was a slut for it, Damon’s cock.
Eventually, Damon slowed and tapped his brother's cheek, clearly not wanting this to end before they'd really begun.
Damon helped his brother to his feet and walked him to the blanket he’d laid out for them. They took a moment to shed the rest of their clothes before laying across it, kissing fiercely and grinding hard against one other.
“I want to be in you,” Damon breathed into Stefan’s mouth, causing his brother to break away entirely.
“More than anything.” Damon said before kissing Stefan once more and flipping on top of him.
Resting Stefan’s legs on his shoulders, Damon slowly rubbed his finger over Stefan’s entrance in small circles, feeling out the ring of muscle there before sliding past it and into him. Stefan groaned in pleasure and surprise at his brother's entry, and he grinned up at Damon, “Do that again”.
Damon complied, pumping his finger in and out of Stefan’s hole before quickly adding a second finger, and a third, until he was finger-fucking Stefan in earnest, his younger brother slamming himself down on Damon’s hand again and again, moans trailing freely from his lips as sweat pooled on his brow, his arms and torso.
“Not enough, Damon, n-need you…”
By God, Stefan would be the end of him.
Damon removed his fingers and lined his spit-slicked cock up with Stefan’s entrance and finally, finally sheathed himself inside.
Stefan’s vision went white. The pleasure was too much, too powerful, the feeling of being filled, being used in this way, the submissiveness of it. Stefan would always give himself, he knew, always give himself to his brother like this.
Damon stared down at his brother, at the lust twisting his features as he rocked against him, their bodies joined in the strongest way possible. Beautiful, he thought, and wished for one selfish, sinful moment, that it could always be like this between them.
Damon found his release without warning.
Damon slumped back against the love seat, his brother on his knees in front of him, watching him carefully. That strange look was on Stefan’s face again, contemplative, almost thoughtful. “This is why you've hated me all this time. Why you hated my being with Elena. Because I wasn't with … you.”
Damon opened his eyes, tears now building in them, and he hated emotions in that moment, hated and loved them, because he had a feeling he was finally going to have what he’d always wanted, always hungered for. He merely nodded in confirmation to Stefan’s thoughts, in confirmation to the memory they'd shared, buried deep between them, of that night on the barn floor.
Stefan was crying now too, and said, “I'm sorry, Damon. That I didn't realize it sooner. That I shut you out after that night, made you feel I didn't … want you. I did. I do. I think … I think I always have. I was just afraid.”
Damon was crying in earnest, all of his resentment and anger and love and lust towards his brother coming undone and spilling between them now. Perhaps fate had led him to drinking just the right amount of whiskey to get them to this moment.
Slowly, always so slowly, Stefan spread his hands across Damon’s denim-covered thighs, keeping eye contact all the time from his place on the floor before him.
And slowly, Stefan leaned forward, and kissed the raging hardness between Damon’s clothed legs. Kissed the head of his cock, and then licked it.
It set fire to everything in Damon.
And in one fluid motion, Damon scooped Stefan into his arms and smashed their lips together in a searing kiss, Stefan’s legs wrapping around Damon’s waist. Their tongues danced, and Damon was running them up, up, up to his bedroom on vampire-swift feet. With Stefan in his arms, hands firmly gripping his ass, Damon collapsed onto the bed, his brother's fingers knotting in his hair as they moved. Breaking from the kiss, Damon tilted his head toward the ceiling, vampiric features rippling to life on his face as he sank his fangs into Stefan’s neck, sucking greedily. Stefan moaned loudly, rutting deeply against Damon’s hardness as he drank.
“Take me Damon, make me feel it. Fuck me.”
Those words undid him. Damon drank deeper as Stefan moaned again, loud and pure. Palming his brother's ass cheeks, Damon brought his hand down hard on his left cheek, sending Stefan recoiling deeper into Damon’s waiting fangs as he fed, his dick getting impossibly harder in his jeans. Suddenly, Stefan shifted beneath Damon and lurched upward, breaking free from Damon’s mouth, blood dripping as they switched places, throwing his brother down on the bed. Dropping to his knees, Stefan’s own fangs rip free from their sheaths and he tears open Damon’s jeans, freeing his cock and swallowing it immediately, his head bobbing up and down at vampire speed, tasting inch after inch of his brother.
Damon shouted, thrusting up into his brother's open throat hard and Stefan just took him without resistance. Before he knew it, that familiar burn began in his stomach and all Damon could say in warning was, “ Stefan , unh--!”
But Stefan heard him, and pulled his mouth free of his cock as ropes of cum coated his lips, his face, his neck, painting him in white and exposing him for the cockslut he truly was.
They were nowhere near finished.
Damon moved at lightning speed, knocking Stefan across the room until they were slamming into a door frame so hard the house shook, the sound drowned out by the sound of their lips moving together, smearing the cum across both their faces.
“I like you like this,” Damon breathed, “covered in my cum.”
Stefan only moaned in agreement before Damon was turning him around, pressing him up against the door frame and Stefan was pleading, begging, “ Please , Damon, I need you in me.”
It was all Damon needed.
There would be other times for him to go slow. Right now he needed Stefan . Ripping off the back of Stefan’s jeans and boxer briefs, Damon shoved up and inside Stefan in one fluid motion, thrusting relentlessly into that bundle of warmth.
Stefan screamed, body curving around and against Damon like a puzzle piece as he slammed his prostate again, again, again. Stefan couldn't even remember his own name, he wouldn't have a mind after this.
And so Damon fucked him, pressing him hard against the door frame, as if their lives depended on it.
Stefan wanted to be like this forever. And as blood and cum dripped down his chest and Damon nipped at his ear as he finally spilled inside him, he realized that maybe that could be a reality.