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She is beautiful. Elijah had never been so fixated on one woman before, and he certainly never thought that Damon Salvatore would influence him that much.
But no, she did.
He likes that she lies in his bed while the sky is just beginning to lighten outside the window, sending shivers down his spine. She looks more fragile and tender in her sleep, and he wants to touch her, he longs to caress herher, and cherish her. Damon sleeps peacefully, it has already become routine. It took five months for her to feel safe enough to sleep next to him, and Elijah is almost frightened by how quickly he has gotten used to her presence in his bed, right next to him.
What's also frightening is how much his preferences have changed. Before, when he had relationships with girls, he sought pleasure only for himself, and if he did anything beyond simple sex, it was only out of interest, boredom, or banal curiosity. But with Damon, everything is different. It's the opposite. He strives to give her pleasure, to make her orgasm, sometimes even several times a night, forgetting about himself in the process. He likes how she writhes beneath him, how she moans and cries out at the touch of his hands and lips. He likes to squeeze her snow-white thighs, to slap her toned and tight buttocks. He likes to fondle her breasts, neat and small, they fit perfectly in his hand, comfortably resting in his palm so that it feels incredibly pleasant to squeeze them. He likes to bite and lick her tender nipples, run his hands along her ribs and sides, stop at her waist and stroke her stomach, feeling the mighty muscles under her skin.
He likes to taste her on his tongue—she's sweet, like candy. He likes how she arches her back when his fingers touch her most sensitive spots, stimulating her clitoris. I like how she convulsively squeezes around him, around his tongue. He likes to feel her weight on his thighs as she slowly lowers herself onto his cock to the very base. He likes how, as she gets used to size, to a feeling of fulfillment, she moves her hips as if dancing, curving and moving herself, finding a pleasant position. He likes to enter her sharply and completely, deeper, moving hard and changing the angles of penetration until she whimpers.
He likes the scratches she leaves on his back, even if they heal as soon as they appear. He likes to see the drops tears on her eyelashes, her parted lips, and hear her heavy breathing when she climaxes for the umpteenth time that night.
He loves everything about her. He cherishes and pamper her, memorizing every moment with her. Every touch, her scent, the feel of her soft lips on his own. Her hand in his palm. The way she lightly touches him even when just passing by. How, sitting next to him and simply reading, she can easily throw her legs over his thighs, allowing him to trace patterns on her bare skin that only Elijah understands.
He likes how she is not afraid to argue even with Klaus, even though she knows his character and propensity for violence. He likes her quick temper, sarcasm, and wit. It is never boring to talk to her; she will hold a conversation on literally any topic. And he is almost grateful to Klaus for not hurting her, seeing his older brother's affection for this girl, but only arguing, taunting, and raging.
And yes, maybe Elijah has fallen in love with her. Maybe just a little bit. And he likes that too.