Awakening Again
Elena wakes in the dim room, light sifting through the dense curtains just enough for her to see. The sheets on the bed are soft and white, and the contrast causes her bed-partners' skin to look a little darker, but manages to make her appear even more fair.
The first thing she sees upon opening her eyes is the smooth expanse of her chest, flat where it once was full. It no longer surprises her, no more than this strange half-dream world where two beautiful boys are pressed close to her in sleep, contented. Her gold hair blends under her head with Stefan's now-long black waves, pillowing her, while her cheek rests against the crook of his cool neck and shoulder. Her hand rubs lazily where it rests on his stomach, making him stir, and she can hear his heart beat.
Behind her, Damon huddles, his arm draped over her small hip protectively. His mouth is warm on the back of her neck, his body pressed flush close. Perhaps he is dreaming: he mumbles something softly, gasps, and his outward flow of breath makes her spine shiver.
Elena's feet are tangled with theirs', so that if she wanted to discern which limb belonged to whom she would have to think, like unravelling a puzzle. The air in the room is warm, her sweat alone sticking her slightly to the brothers on either side. She is awakening slowly, one muscle, bone at a time.
When she is ready to move, more assured this is the real world and not fantasy, she kisses the skin nearest to her, nuzzles with her whole body, and feels answering awareness all around her. Hands move from their places, a tongue licks at her, cool fingertips snake over her legs. Her mouth opens, and she groans huskily, feeling the first beginnings of desire, and when she is touched and touches she does not care which of the Salvatores it is.