Dream
Elena dreams, and in her dream, she is cradled in cool arms.
Stefan holds her so, so tenderly, as if she is a hollowed egg, ready to be carved. [Elena,] and he doesn't just say it--her name expands from his lips, until it is the whole world, until she is everything. His mouth brushes her cheek, soft as rabbit's fur, and one of his hands swims through her hair as if it were water. Perhaps it is; she cannot move except to respond to his touch, like liquid moulding to a form.
His next kiss is more tangible, at the corner of her mouth. His lips are hot, and when she opens her eyes they are red, red as poppies. He is a vampire, and he has a vampire mouth, leeching all the color from around it, concentrated to a pure hue. His skin is whiter than white, blue-white, like skim milk, but when she raises her head and kisses his chin, his flush is the first rosy light of dawn.
When their mouths meet, it is like the crash of thunder, resonating deep into her bones. She shudders with the immensity of their kiss, sinking deeper into his embrace. He pulls away to look at her, his face earnest as a child's. His eyes are the deep green of pine, of a moonlit forest, and his teeth are white as the moon. His face is a world unto itself, a world she could fall into, never wanting to leave. She kisses him open-mouthed, panting into his mouth, and his tongue against hers is as gentle as velvet.
The universe rocks, womblike, around them, and the rhythm is the beat of her heart. Stefan breathes in time to it, moves his tongue in time to it, rocks his hips in time to it. Elena closes her eyes against overwhelming sensation, and meets him, twisting within the shelter of his caressing hands. Her legs slither over his lap, serpentine, and her spine feels more elegantly flexible than any snake. She twines her arms around his neck. She is a vine, clinging to him as pleasure ripples through her core, his fingertips brushing her, light as feathers. She inclines her head, to bury it in his hair, black as the space between the stars.
His guiding hands on her hips burn like brands; his breath on her neck is a furnace. She gasps, that inhalation like a vacuum, consuming her awareness for endless seconds, as she is lowered onto his phallus. She is filled completely, utterly, her muscles enfolding him as if this is why they were made, Elena and Stefan, to be so joined.
Their movement is the ebb and swell of the ocean, effortless, unstoppable. Elena feels her whole body welcome each small change, each heightening of awareness, each growing-closer. They are face-to-face, now, and she cannot close her eyes to his, to their urgency, to their depth. She kisses him wet as raindrops, over and over, undulating, her chest fluttering softly against his.
Something expands from inside her, a sun, a supernova, consuming her in a sudden nothingness that is anything but empty. She is Stefan, and he is she, and she feels his dagger-teeth grazing the skin of her neck. [Yes,] she encourages, the moment just before the bite, and that word, too, becomes a living thing.
Elena dreams, and in her dream, the moment is eternal.