For They Are Jolly Good Felons

 ⌊For They Are Jolly Good Felons⌉
 

With her wrists pressed into the thick pillow above her head, the female watched intently, wondering what exactly the man was going to do. Without warning, he released her only to switch and snatch her thighs, dragging her down into the middle of the bed so there was no way for her to escape, even if she wanted to.
    
Which she didn't.

Running the tips of his fingers over her collarbone, slowly down the valley between full breasts and to the top of white lace panties. He looked up at her, that smirk on his face as he stuck his tongue out to lick his lower lip. Strong hands traced her figure, soon resting her hips as he lowered his head, keeping his eyes on her the entire time.

Lips opened only to hover over the inside of the female's thigh. Hot air met awaiting skin and the girl instinctively rose her hips, begg ing the tease to hurry up and stop making her wait. The tips of his fingers traced over the sheer fabric, shadowing her slit, causing her head to fall back and her stomach muscles to tense. Hunching over again, the man nipped at the barrier with his teeth, purposely breathing hot air over the region as he went. Snatching  the fabric over the front of his new toy's hip, he ragged the article down past her knees and pushed her left leg up to a folded position. Waiting until the redhead looked at him, the room owner brought his index and middle finger to his mouth, coating the digits with saliva. When their eyes met, the smirk from earlier reappeared. Lowering is hand, he stroked downwards, gliding over her clit.

Instinctively, the guest raised her hips, mewling at the much needed sensation. The brunet grinned something wicket inserted the two digits, she took a jagged breath and gripped the sheets. Not giving the female time to adjust, he pumped roughly into her. All she could do was lay there helpless, writhing in time to the pulses of pleasure building from the man's handy work. Biting down on her lip, the redhead tried to refrain from moaning too early.

Only a moment had passed, yet he had stopped and pulled back. By the time the female looked up in surprised, he was already right there. Looming over her with the same fingers he had used running over his lips, the trail of her juices were soon licked off.

His stiffness pressed against her rear, throbbing through the black slacks that did nothing to keep her calm. Nor did the callous fingers of his left hand switching up the tempo as he grabbed her breast, occasionally alternating between tweaking her hardened nipples and digging what nails he had into her pale hips. In fact, the entire thing, his bodyweight pressing down on her restrained form, the faint scent of his cologne intoxicating her just as much as those prominent canines almost piercing her delicate neck while his tongue massaged the right spot.For the first time since arriving at the man's home, the curvaceous redhead intended to speak an intellgent sentence.

"Is this going to take all day?" Her airy Southern drawl floated through the panting.

"I'm letting my frustrations out on you, okay? You'll be begging for it soon enough." His left hand left her hip and unflicked the buckle of his belt. The slacks that had caught the woman's eyes earlier that day slid off his legs and eventually onto the floor.

"Really now? I don't b-believe you." She tripped over her hitched breath.

Pressing his member against her entrance, the older Salvatore groaned as he went straight into deep, painfully slow thrusting. "Oh, you'll beg..." He leaned in closer, nipping her lobe as he growled through his knowing smirk. "Trust me."
 

Three hours later

Watching the perfectly defined - and gloriously naked  - behind of her temporary lover shuffling towards the shower, the Southerner took the opportunity to take a breather from her intensive work-out. Shifting up the bed and propping herself up on her elbows, the redhead glanced to the half empty glass on the nightstand. Picking it up and taking a sniff, she realised it wasn't going to kill her, and so, drank it in one.

The woman, the Southerner with an Amazonian stature, was already quite familiar with the older Salvatore brother. They had met more than a handful of times before. Stefan had his Lexi and Damon had his Peyton. Given, Damon's choice in the women didn't keep him line, but rather tempted him to go on month long benders: picking up half-wit chicks, drinking them dry and then laughing the night away without the thoughts and cares that he pretended not to have. And now, after thirteen years, she had come to see him again.

"Y'know," Peyton started, calling out as she rolled off the plush matters and onto her feet. "She'll be here soon as well."

The sound of Damon slipping on the tiling screeched throughout the space. Poking his head around the wall, the brunette furrowed his brows and mouthed the word 'What'.

Leisurely strolling around the bedroom, Peyton collected her clothes. "Yep, she's probably already on her way."

"Why?" He snapped.

Wobbling her head, the female made a strange voice. "Why is the sky blue?"

"What?"

"Exactly." Bending down to grab her bra, the redhead huffed. "I asked her, but she didn't say much about."

"Does she have a cell?"

Glancing back over shoulder to where Damon was once stood, the guest rolled her eyes. "We're in 2013, of course she has a cell."

"Call her and ask again." He shouted from inside the shower.

Sitting on the edge of the messy quilt, the female frowned. "I'm pretty sure she won't say her real intentions, but even if she did, would you really want to know?"

Damon thought about it for a moment as the almost scorching water hit off his skin. He didn't know her like he knew Peyton, but he had heard rumours about her. It was impossible not to come across that kind of talk when someone made themselves standout as much as she did. Shaking his head, the Salvatore called back. "Just make sure she isn't out to massacre the whole town; I have enough to deal with right now."

"Like your crazy little bro, the Petrova doppelganger and other miscellaneous forms of life interruptions?" Peyton mumbled as she hiked her shorts up, not even bothering to fasten the button or do the zip up all the way.

Swallowing back the bunch questions he wanted to ask, Damon huffed. "How did you know about that?"

"A little bird told me."

"I'm sure."

Peyton could hear the sarcasm coming from her host as she tried to fix her hair into a normal-ish looking style. "Hurry up and shower. I want a drink."

Coming from the bathroom with a white towel wrapped securely around his hips, Damon ran a hand through his hair causing excess water to drop onto his shoulders. "Then go and get one. I'm not here to babysit you." He shooed at her playfully while alternating between checking out his own reflection and the redhead's.

Picking up her heeled boots, Peyton made the door, her white dress shirt open and her generous bosom bouncing as she strut her stuff. "Whatever you say, sweetie." Holding her hand up to wave him off, the redhead left the man's bedroom and escaped for the drinks table in the main room.
 

A black sports car sped into town. It was the kind of white-knuckle ride that had always interested her. Well, interested since they had began production, that is. The vehicle rolled up to the curb and then stopped. Stepping out of the new car, a blonde straightened up. Untucking her waist length hair from the inside of the collar of the black military style jacket, the newcomer locked her possession and headed for the bar she could see a few yards away.

Pushing the door to the establishment open, the tall blonde sauntered into the space filling quickly for the evening. Heading straight for the bar, the stranger from out of town skipped up the few wooden steps and took a seat on one of the empty wooden stools.  

"Drinking in the daytime?" The man which was already sat one seat away asked the blonde.

Shrugging off her jacket to reveal the array of ink poking past the cropped, dark grey t-shirt and low-rise leather pants, the female spared a fed up smile. "I've been driving for around eight hours. I think I deserve it." Her tone was laced with a thick foreign accent.

"Have you ever been here before." He asked.

"Not that I remember. I'm actually here to catch up with some old friends." She paused her conversation with the man to make her order to the waiter that had stopped in front of her. As soon as the barman had left, she turned back to her company. "What about you?"

Placing his hand over his work scattered in front of him as he turned to the newcomer and smiled, the older male gestured for another drink. "I'm Alaric Saltzman; I teach history at the local high school."
    
"That's interesting to know." The blonde picked up her newly appeared refreshment - Southern Comfort, neat - and inclined it in a cheers. Her gaze shot to her unknowing company's reflection in the mirrored wall shelved with boozed behind the bar. A dark smile settling on her lips as she took a sip of the tonic.
 

Updated: 20th July 2013 - 03:48am