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Summary-The sequel to Sins of the Father-Elena and Stefan must decide if Damon will dictate how the Salvatore family will grow, or if they should take fate into their own hands.
Rating-VERY adult-Warnings galore, guys-Incest, bloodplay, a few mild slash references (but nothing too heavy, there) graphic sex and language
Disclaimer-I own nothing from the Vampire Diaries or any songs or brands mentioned.
Sins of the Father-To Heir is Human
Distracted from his task of refilling the ice in his glass of scotch, Damon’s brow furrowed at the smell of salt tears in the air. Seconds later Elena burst through the front door of the Salvatore mansion, clearly upset as her book bag and purse landed with a heavy thud against the stone tiles. Damon caught the indignant sniffle as Elena’s feet began their pounding assault on the stairs.
“Elena?” He called after her retreating form, concerned at her emotional state.
“Damon—please—just--,” Elena sputtered between sobs. “Look, I’ve had a shitty day, and I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Elena…,” Damon repeated with a hint of warning, settling himself on a sumptuous leather sofa, stowing his glass of scotch on a side table coaster.
Over these past few months, the three Salvatore’s had generally gotten along well, sharing a home and sharing a bed quite happily, acceptance of the situation being preferable to resistance, seeing as Damon was bound to have his way in the end, regardless. Most of the time, the three Salvatore’s practiced living on an equal footing, with Damon often reining in his more despicable propositions, and Stefan often extending some of his more restrained boundaries.
Elena was the center of their world, as Katherine had been so many years before. She was loved intently by both men, ironically, one turning out to be her father, and the other, her uncle. Though by accepting her fate, Elena had quickly become accustomed to their unique way of life.
But there were also many times when Damon played the family patriarch card, where the eldest Salvatore would pull rank and assert his will, the threat of shunning his brother from the family bed and keeping Elena solely for his own pleasure enough to keep them both in line.
This, however, was not one of those times. Damon was, in fact, genuinely concerned—someone or something had upset Elena deeply, and the devious vampire was willing to do anything in his power…to make her happy again.
Elena closed her eyes in frustrated resignation as she poised halfway up the staircase. Her father would abide no secrets in his house—at least not ones he wanted to keep for himself—and the dark-eyed beauty knew that she would need to confess the day’s woes to the blue-eyed demon.
Elena turned around with a sigh, her hopes of finding a quiet corner in which to expend her cry was now a distant pipedream. She descended the stairs, and pausing at the first step, was faintly amused at the sight before her—Damon sat, sprawled on sofa, tie yanked loose, shirt buttons whipped open, scotch in hand—looking like a very sexy, very fucked up version of “Father Knows Best” where a normal parental discussion usually ended up with someone losing their underwear.
Though sometimes it pained Elena to concede to Damon’s whims, she knew the response expected of her in such a situation—
“Yes, Daddy?” she called back in a demur, kittenish mewl.
“Come here, babygirl,” Damon patted his lap, taking a last drink before depositing the sweating glass back on the table.
Elena pushed back the independent streak of hers that wanted to rail against such an order because she had learned, in these last months, that much could be gained from these moments of submission.
Slipping off her shoes, Elena crawled into Damon’s lap, breathing deeply of his scent whisky and spice as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. There was an odd comfort to be had in the twisted nature of their relationship. Damon kissed the top of Elena’s head while he stroked her long, dark locks. Elena nervously toyed with the hem of her short, swingy skirt that floated across her daddy’s lap.
“Tell Daddy what’s wrong, sweetheart,” Damon insisted in his smooth, slightly-cajoling voice, ever laced with devilish innuendo.
Elena closed her eyes briefly in frustration with herself—feeling silly that she had allowed the intrusive busybodies of Mystic Falls to upset her so.
Gritting her teeth, Elena finally let spill what had darkened her mood, “It’s that stupid bitch, Caroline. Since Stefan wasn’t at school today, she thought she could make every nasty comment she had saved up over the last week in front of everybody.”
“Baby, I’m sorry Stefan couldn’t be there today. You know I had to send him to Charlottesville to meet with the toady from the blood bank,” Damon reminded soothingly. “I had that inane meeting with the new mayor, or I would’ve gone to Charlottesville myself,” he cooed while absently running his hand up and down Elena’s thigh.
“I know…and I should’ve been able to deal with Miss Witless myself, but in French class she made jokes about how to translate *menage a trois,* she told the lunch lady that I would take *two of everything*,” Elena reported in a rapid-fire retelling, finally able to vent the day’s frustrations. “ In gym, she kept throwing volleyballs at me, till I was trying to juggle four,” Elena spat out sarcastically, having stood about as much ridicule from Caroline Forbes as she could stand.
Damon couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at Caroline’s ingenuity when it came to insults.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Elena pouted, playfully smacking at Damon’s chest before settling back against him.
“I am on your side, babygirl,” Damon assured, offering kisses to Elena’s upturned face. “So did she say anything that was actually untrue?” he queried.
“No, but she doesn’t know that!” Elena insisted—the true nature of the Salvatore family remaining a close-guarded secret from the residents of Mystic Falls. “She’s just giving me hell because I’m basically living here now—and nobody in their right mind will stick around her for more than a one-night-stand.”
Damon bit back his quip about his affair with Caroline lasting for more than one date—not that she remembered a hell of a lot, anyway, but he figured discretion was the better part of valor with an irate Elena on his lap.
“So…you want me to drain her and leave her in a shallow grave?” Damon waggled his eyebrows in temptation, eliciting a small smile from Elena.
“No…well, maybe…sometimes that sounds like a good idea…but it would certainly arouse too much suspicion if the Founder’s Day queen was found dead by her mother, the sheriff,” Elena snarked in retort.
“Mmm,” Damon hummed into Elena’s dark hair while his hand crept higher up her thigh, “I know what would fix my little girl right up.” His fingers snaked up Elena’s short skirt, pulling gently at her panties’ tiny bows.
“Stefan’s not back…,” Elena whimpered, guilt over engaging in Damon’s version of fatherly affections tugging at her conscience.
“Now, babygirl…I know you and Uncle Stefan sneak off every day at lunch and go have your fun….”
Elena opened her mouth to protest, but was promptly cut off.
“No use denying it, sweetheart…I can smell you all over each other when you come home…,” Damon reminded in soft and sultry tones. “So you shouldn’t feel guilty about spending a little alone time with daddy,” he lured smoothly, his fingers breaching Elena’s tender folds, gathering the nectar that welled in her snug channel before sliding up to circle her clit in slow, firm strokes.
“Anyway…,” Damon continued as Elena’s body began to sag against him in delicious relaxation. “If Uncle Stefan gets home soon, he can join us….”
“Mmm…k,” Elena grinned with closed eyes, snuggling against Damon once again before pulling off his tie the rest of the way and unbuttoning the remaining buttons on his French blue shirt with wide-set, thin pinstripes. Pulling it free of his charcoal-colored trousers, Elena curled against the cool planes of hard muscle while Damon fondled her aching clit.
Though not so many months ago, Elena would’ve been sickened by her own actions, repelled at her acceptance of Damon’s family perversions, but there were times, like today, when there was something soothing in his command, something certain in his touch. Putting aside her weariness of the world, Elena could just accept Damon’s ministrations without guilt or regret, passively indulging in the pleasure doled out at his hands.
Looking up for a deep kiss, Elena’s response was rewarded by the two fingers of Damon’s right hand that entered her from beneath her bare hip, reveling in Damon’s unique approach to solving a family crisis.
“Feels so good, Daddy…,” Elena mewed, nuzzling deeper into his hard body.
“That’s it, babygirl,” Damon encouraged, coaxing a pleased smile from her lips as Elena’s channel grew increasingly wetter, the juices coating his fingers as he pumped steadily in and out of her tight passage.
Damon bent to capture her sweet pouting lips, gratified as her hips began to rock against his deft fingers, grinding against the hands seeking to bring the wounded beauty her release.
“More, Daddy, please,” Elena bit her bottom lip while Damon slipped a third finger in her channel and stroked her swollen nubbin with a firmer purpose. He loved to watch the expression on her beautiful face flutter and glow—the pallid color that sapped her skin when she came home from school now replaced with the pink glow of her approaching orgasm.
“Come for me, babygirl…,” Damon coaxed, giving Elena’s aching button a delicious twist as he plunged his fingers deeply into her slick walls, massaging the little bundle of nerves buried deep inside.
“Yes!” Elena gasped, “That’s it, Daddy—right there!” the wanton beauty ground hard against her father’s hand, helping the necessary friction reach the fevered pitch needed for her to fall over the edge.
“Daddy!” she wailed, her throbbing cunny clutching against Damon’s slick hand while he slowed his ministrations to match the slowing pulses in her body.
A sweet, secret smile played across Elena’s mouth, offering kisses to the underside of Damon’s jaw before tracing her tongue down the cool column of his neck and suckling at the claim marks that sent warm tingles of gratitude to her father.
“Thank you, daddy,” Elena cooed, turning to nip and kiss the flat nipples of his chest, causing Damon to buck experimentally against her when she turned to straddle him.
“Anything for my little girl,” Damon responded, his voice tinged with seductive grace.
“What would you like to do next, Daddy?” Elena cooed, her voice thick with the heady pleasure she had just received at Damon’s hands. Her fingers toyed with the dark hair at the nape of Damon’s neck, offering a succulent kiss to his lips.
The clang of Damon’s metal buckle and rasp of his zipper echoed off the stone walls as Damon responded to his daughter’s question.
“How about a little game of horsey…?”
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