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Damon whisked Elena off her feet, quite literally. This impulsive edge that sometimes revealed itself drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Even at her most wilful, she still could not resist him. If she were not wearing vervain, she'd think herself compelled. He grinned down at her, bearing a set of white, gleaming teeth. Weapons. She smiled back up at him sheepishly, succumbing to his charms.

Damon and Elena were in France, Paris to be exact. She had always wanted to travel and had briefly mentioned it to him a few weeks ago, never presuming that he'd actually take her. Initially she was disturbingly worried; about Stefan, her friends, the drama back home, but after a few charming speeches from Damon, she found herself revelling in being in a new location, she had the chance to be Elena, not 'the doppelganger' for at least a few days.

"I've waited so long to have you to myself." He murmured in her ear, his teeth grazing there affectionately for a moment. "I almost don't want to go back to Mystic Falls."
Elena's pulse quickened with excitement, her breath coming faster and sharper. Attempting to distract him from noticing this, she whispered; "Imagine that."

He chuckled, smile lines forming at the edges of his dark, unfathomable eyes. His thick black lashes were moist, and Elena sensed that his eyes had welled up with the blissful happiness of having her here with him. He was beautiful, there was no denying it. His dark, glossy hair waved to his ears, and longed to have hands woven through it. His face was that of a sculptor's dream; small, yet hypnotising eyes, mesmerising lips that were constantly formed in a smirk or a mocking smile of some sort, a face that you could find yourself lost in.

Blinking, Elena realised that she had been brazenly staring at him for some time. She cleared her throat in embarrassment, watching him closely. He was gazing at her unashamedly. She realised that he wasn't embarrassed by acts of traditional romance, not like she was. He ejaculated pure love and happiness in a single gaze, and sometimes as though he possessed her, somehow making her angry and her heart skip a beat at the same time. There was no winning.

He set her back down on the ground, where she tried to balance on her weak knees. Once she had control of herself again, she noticed that he'd turned away from her suddenly, preventing her from seeing the expression on his face. His dark leather jacket was crumpled slightly from where he'd spontaneously lifted her.

"Damon -" she began, turning him around to face her; "what's wrong?"
He looked at her with such intensity that she began to feel faint. Why did he have this effect on her? And more importantly; why didn't Stefan?
"I thought bringing you here would make you forget, make me forget. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could not feel guilty for once."
Elena took a moment to process his words. After everything they'd been through, there was no denying that Damon still cared for Stefan deeply, even if he acted out rashly against him. Since she'd gotten to know him, Elena had realised that Damon wasn't a bad person, not naturally at least. Circumstances around him had defined him, and he had given into the hate that threatened to burst inside of him, directing it towards everyone, most particularly his brother. Damon lashed out against them all unwillingly, but unable to prevent himself from doing so. It was his strongest defence mechanism, keeping the people around him from breaking through the many concrete walls he built around himself. It was easier that way.

Damon glanced around at the humans passing by as Elena thought. He knew not to disturb her while she was in thinking mode. A slender woman with fiery red hair sauntered past. She was just his taste and he could almost feel the warm, coppery taste of her blood flowing down his throat. Twenty years ago she would have been his. Twenty years ago women exactly like her were his. He didn't even bother to compel half of them; they simply came to him willingly. He smirked slightly, reliving the last time he was in Paris.

It had been a hot, humid day in July 1983. Damon had decided to visit Paris for the second time since becoming an immortal; he vaguely remembered that the women were exquisite, as was the art. He'd watched one woman in particular very closely. She, again, had red hair, but it was coppery and shimmered gleefully in the sunshine. A natural redhead. She'd stopped briefly at a waterfall to toss in a euro or two, and that's when Damon could resist no longer, and approached her lazily. Naturally blessed with irresistible charms that had simply become heightened since becoming a vampire, this was easy to him. Damon struck up a conversation with the girl. She was French, but spoke English. Admittedly, he didn't pay much attention to what she was saying, but learnt that she was a writer, named Della, liked The Beatles and red wine. She also had a boyfriend.

"Are you happy with him?" He asked, in a perfect sounding French accent. The less questions asked about him being from America, the better.
"Excuse me?" She replied, abashed, as though his question was absurd. Her leaf green eyes were conveying something else entirely, however; the immediacy of which she wanted to yield to him, for him to embrace her and caress her right there in that moment.
Damon smirked, reading all of these desires easily on her features. He knew that she was feeling unsure of why she wanted this, but all she knew is that she wanted him. They all felt like that, he was the ultimate predator.

She was continuing to gaze at him longingly, and he removed his black sunglasses slowly, with intent. Della's jaw dropped slightly as she looked in his eyes, eyes that you could fall and fall into and never hit ground. He focused his compulsion on her, probing her mind with his thoughts, willing her to do his bidding.
"You're going to come with me" he purred gently. He didn't need to persuade her, his compulsion took care of that.
"I'm going to come with you." She repeated simply, robotically.

He led her to an alley, away from the public eye. He might be a ravenous vampire, but he did have sense. Stroking her hair as though she were a lover, he bent forward towards her white neck where his dinner awaited. Della leant her head back obediently as Damon sank his sharp fangs into her throat. Euphoria consumed him; she'd tasted even better than he'd anticipated. He wasn't planning on killing the girl, but her blood was that of the sweetest delicacy that he didn't even take notice of the fact that he was draining her dry.

Della let out a last breath, before crumpling to the floor in front of him. Damon licked his lips, savouring the taste of the lovely Della. He turned off his emotions before the remorse could begin bubbling inside him, and continued on his trip.

Modern day Damon broke out of his reverie to find Elena looking at him expectantly.
"You weren't listening, I knew you weren't listening!" She yelled jokingly, pushing him gently.
He recomposed himself, ignoring the throbbing hunger in his throat; "My apologies, Elena. What were you saying?" He raised his eyebrows flirtatiously, charming her.
"I was saying… That I'm not feeling guilty, Damon. I'm happy to be here, with you." She watched him calculatingly, anxious for his reaction.
Damon raised his hand and brushed the hair back from Elena's face gently. She tried to repress a shiver, but failed. He didn't remark upon it, but continued to trail his fingers along the soft white of her skin. She looked at him with her irresistible doe eyes, and maybe it was his imagination, but they appeared to sparkle excitedly at him.

Cupping her face in his hands, he whispered; "I love you, Elena." She had a moment to rejoice at his words, but no time to reply before he was leaning his face into hers. She sensed his lips near hers before she felt them. The air between them reverberated with electricity. Elena wrapped her arms around Damon, cradling him to her. She felt the warm leather of his jacket against her arms and realised that this was where she belonged. There was no proximity between them any longer; their bodies were pressed against one another and Elena sighed in surrender as Damon brought his lips to hers. It was a gentle, yet passionate kiss and conveyed without words all of his feelings for her. Her knees rocked beneath her from the overwhelming weight of it all. His hands were interlocked in her hair, stroking it gently. Their thoughts almost seemed to tangle together in euphoria. She never wanted this to end.

When they finally broke apart, Damon's face was twisted into one of pure, undeniable love. Happiness shone from every inch of him, he projected it. He gazed at her affectionately, and saw that her facial expression echoed his; one of utmost joy and belonging. They were home.

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I'm not sure whether this will be a one-off or whether I'll continue..