Title: Desire
Rating: M
Type: Two-shot
Pairing: Damon/Katherine
Warnings: Masturbation, sexual situations, foul language, blood play, etc. It's rated M for a reason. ; )

My perverted mind would not shut up until I wrote this – so here you go. : ) I will probably upload the second part within a week.

I love 1864 Damon, by the way – and even though I know he was a bit mischievous back then, I think Katherine fully corrupted him. Like she said herself, he used to be "so sweet and polite."

Happy reading and please review! : )

Desire

Part I: Fantasy

So young and full of running
All the way to the edge of desire
Steady my breathing, silently screaming
I have to have you now

-John Mayer, "Edge of Desire"

Twenty-three year-old Damon Salvatore lay nude on top of his bed covers, wishing for a breeze to cool his overheated body. The Virginian summer was robbing him of energy, day and night, through the various cycles of heat waves. He could feel the slow trickle of sweat down his face and forearms as he shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure what time it was, but guessing around two o'clock in the morning.

He let out a soft sigh and thought of Katherine Pierce – he was convinced that her ginger and lemon scent still lingered somewhere on his skin. She had lightly grazed her fingertips across the back of his hands, leaning in slightly and tickling his neck with her dark curls. He had only known her for less than a month but he was absolutely convinced that he was in love with her.

She awakened things in him that he had dared not acknowledge before; like now, just the mere thought of her scent and beauty was making his body quake in lust. It had taken only moments for every ounce of blood in his body to travel to his most private area.

Damon felt himself blush when he snapped out of his reverie and realized the extent of his arousal. He groaned softly and shifted on his bed again and laid flat on his back, running his long fingers through raven hair. The heat of the night and his evident desire combined made the possibility of sleep even less an option than it was before.

"Damn it," he cursed softly, feeling the cotton sheets tickle his back uncomfortably. He needed to relieve the pressure in his body, but the guilt that went with the action almost stopped him. He knew that he shouldn't touch himself; that if he did, he would be giving into some invisible sin. He didn't necessarily believe in God, but the Baptists of Virginia had instilled in him how wrong it was to pleasure oneself. He had certainly heard his own father's view on the subject matter, hastily given in a speech to him and his younger brother, Stefan, a few years ago – "to touch oneself is to be weak-minded, boys. You have more important activities to consider."

Stefan had nodded eagerly, completely understanding, while Damon had cast his eyes downward, knowing that he indeed engaged in this "weak-minded" activity on a regular basis.

And he really needed to do it right now, especially with his most recent encounter with Katherine fresh in his mind; the wicked girl had grazed his thigh under the dinner table. He groaned again when he thought of the pleasurable sensations that had rocked his body from just one simple touch. The thoughts that had danced in his head for the remainder of dinner were generally in the range of impure.

Damon sat up, still sweating, realizing that he had worked himself into an aching and a hardness that he had not ever felt before. He needed release. God, he needed it so bad. His thoughts had quickly – very quickly – taken a turn for the worst as soon as he had begun thinking of all of the things he could do to Katherine, the things that she could do to him, and the things that they could do together.

He lay back down on his bed. His mind briefly wandered to his past sexual experiences. Even though he had been a Confederate officer, he had never had sex – a lot of people had assumed he did, though, and he wasn't going to dissuade their assumptions. He'd certainly done a lot of other things – things to 'innocent' girls. The most he'd thus far received in turn was a risqué hand job from a pretty girl in Atlanta. He'd only met her the night before, and they had gone for an evening walk – and things had quickly escalated.

He groaned softly, recalling that particular incident. God, he'd just been outside leaning against a tree in a park talking to this girl, when she had suddenly made the move to touch him. And he had let her because he hadn't been anywhere near a woman in a few months.

He'd pleased that same girl with the slight touch of his hand, but they had been forced to stop their endeavours when a few army officers were spotted walking by them. They probably would have had sex – he didn't have silly romantic notions about it, like his brother did. But then again, he wasn't the one who had lied to his brother and had told him of many sexual escapades when there had only been a half-select few.

He felt himself flush again. So now he was going to have to resort to explicit fantastical masturbation because there was a literal ache in his bones for Katherine and he didn't know where else to direct this sexual energy – except towards himself, so that's exactly what he was going to do.

Damon slowly slid his right hand down his lean, taut stomach and imagined it was Katherine's hand and not his own. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure when his fingertips touched his thigh – he enjoyed teasing himself – he knew that if he did this first, his release would be even more powerful. Hopefully it would be powerful enough to shake the heat and put him to sleep.

Oh, fuck it felt good when he finally wrapped his hand around his stiff member. It twitched in response to him and he opened his eyes, just for some good visual effect - to watch the clear pre-ejaculate coat his fingers. He moved the thumb of his hand over the head and moaned. It would be a wonder of wonders if he could even stroke himself before he came.

He tentatively began to move his right hand up and down his length, chewing his bottom lip as he concentrated on just getting there. He trailed his left hand over his stomach and up his chest, brushing his sensitive nipples. He hissed softly and imagined his hands were Katherine's hands – her soft, sweet, hands –touching him teasingly and moving up and down on him like that.

No, wait – her mouth on his need was an even better fantasy. A loud moan escaped his lips as he pictured that instead. He could literally only imagine the feel of her mouth wrapped around his aching member, sucking in softly, her tongue wet and hot.

Fuck, he mentally whimpered, moving his hand faster and faster, increasing the pressure. He lifted his hips up, imagining that he was pumping in and out of her as fast as he could humanly go, powerful thrusts in her hot, tight body and Christ he was going to come. He could feel the stiffening of all his muscles – thighs, stomach, arms – as he –

There was a soft knock on the door which made him start slightly in shock. His entire body was thrumming and humming with the anticipation of release and now – he wanted to cry. Who the hell was at his door at this hour? He swore on the grave of every dead person he had ever known in life – including his own mother – that if it was Stefan, he would back hand him, no questions asked.

He stood up and languidly reached for his trousers. He bit back a moan as the material brushed against his still-hard length. Not bothering with a shirt, he went to the door and opened it slightly and nearly jumped back at who was standing there.

Katherine.