03.

He watched her with curious eyes as she entered the room in one of his night shirts, her thick, golden curls framing her angelic face. She smiled at him, and he noted how the light of two dozen candles made her look that much more soft and heavenly. The light danced and flickered across the walls, giving the room a dream-like appearance.

For the first time, Damon realized where he sat. He sat on the floor in front of a circular oak table that lied flat to the ground, that held a black stone caldron and several assorted ingredients. The blond Goddess approached and dropped a limp black object onto the table. She sank to her knees on her side of the table and sighed, closing her eyes. She mouthed a few words, before opening her eyes and drawing a shining silver blade from it's velvet case.

The black lump turned out to be a huge, dead raven. Damon watched as the woman proceeded to draw the blade across the birds throat until blood started to pool on the table. She picked the bird up and squeezed it, dripping all of that thick red blood into her small black cauldron. She wrung it dry, and set it on the table in front of Damon.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, I know you know what you're doing and all, but-"

"Damon. Please, do me a favor and silence that gorgeous little mouth of yours. I need quiet," she interrupted the boy, and he smiled at her nervously, his fears not quelled. He trusted this girl; he just wasn't entirely comfortable with the magic she practiced.

Damon's eyes were drawn back to her as she began chanting. She leaned over the table without breaking her pace, took Damon's hand in hers and turned it palm up. She dipped her finger into the mixture and placed a dot of it on his wrist, then moved to his forehead and down to his lips to make similar marks. Gently, she traced his lower lip, staining it red, and smiling past the Latin that poured from her mouth.

Her palm graced his forehead, just above the spot of crimson, just barely ghosting over his skin, and her eyes fell shut as her vocal intensity picked up. Damon watched her, observing how her face began to lose composure. First her eyebrows crushed together, and then her eyes squeezed shut tight, and the longer she spoke, the louder her voice grew.

Damon shivered, before realizing the air in the room was swirling around them. He glanced around him and noticed over half of the candles had gone out. The woman before him was winding down, he could feel it in her voice as it started to waver. She inhaled a deep, full breath, before unleashing the last verse of the spell.

As she finished, two things happened simultaneously. The room fell black as the remaining candles blinked out, and Damon gasped, loud and harsh, before his body was wrenched backwards with the force of having the air stolen from his lungs. The witch wasted no time climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He struggled below her, and she pricked her index finger, allowing just a droplet of blood to pool there before she plunged it into his mouth. She felt his tongue swirl, capturing the crimson liquid and with her free hand she reached behind her and grabbed a pinch of the dust she had concocted earlier in the day, before sprinkling it over his forehead.

At last, the gasping stopped and the room fell still.

For a brief moment, she was terrified that something had gone wrong as Damon lay still. Just as she was about to speak his name, his hands gripped her thighs almost painfully and he sat straight up, almost sending her into the table at her back. His hold on her legs kept her in place, and she could feel his warm breath on her ear as their bodies pressed together.

Just the ghost of a kiss graced her earlobe, and she shivered.

"How do you feel?" she asked him, and he laughed. It was a low, deep sound, and before he answered he ground his hips into her. She sighed, assuming the hardness in his pants was a sign that he was okay, but she wanted to make sure.

"I don't know, how do I feel?" he smirked sarcastically. The nervous man he had been just minutes before was gone and he was back to his normal self.

She pushed him back, and though she couldn't see him in the darkness, she looked at him seriously before she spoke.

"I mean it, Damon. It's important."

He paused his advances and thought hard, trying to feel if there was anything wrong, or different, but all he could think about was the woman straddling his lap and how she wasn't wearing any panties.

"I'm fine, petal. I promise," he said confidently, and the blond goddess just nodded to herself, before lowering her lips to his.

"You'll be safe then, when I can't be with you. Nothing can hurt you now," she whispered, running her fingers through his dark curls. When their lips crushed together, Damon groaned, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

Damon woke with a start, gasping and gripping the sheets in both of his fists. The tall brunette he brought home the night before was still recuperating from the blood loss she endured at his hands, sleeping on her stomach with her face turned away. He stood, leaving the naked woman in his bed, and made his way to the study where his collection of alcohol waited for him.

Something about the dream he'd just had felt strange. It was incredibly lucid, like a memory; though he was sure nothing of the sort had ever happened to him. The really weird part was that, after thinking for a moment, he recognized the blond. He had seen her just hours before, leaving the club in Unity, a few towns over.

He remembered her well; she had a predatory gait in her walk, like a jaguar prowling after it's prey, and her blood red dress clung to her slender figure, adding to the allure. Her long golden hair spilled over her shoulders in massive curls, much longer than in the dream. What caught his attention, however, was the look on her face. She had met his eyes unflinchingly, and a sinful smile spread across her ruby lips.

It was a look he received a lot, but usually it was from the women he had brought home some night and had sex with. It was very obviously the look that a lover gives their partner when they're thinking about jumping their bones because they know exactly how much fun it'll be.

Beyond that, it was even stranger when his body responded immediately, the way it used to whenever Katherine would catch his glance, or he would have small encounters with Elena. His body knew her, called to her, and it was damn unnerving.

Damon was torn from his thoughts by a soft knock on the door frame. He looked up, the decanter of scotch still in his hand, to see the naked brunette from his room, still naked, leaning against the wall with a hand on her hip.

"Care for a quick tumble, before I head out?" she asked, a half smile tugging at her lips. Damon smiled briefly, if not sarcastically, before pouring himself a half-cup and swallowing it at once. He sighed, the burning liquid warming his insides, set the glass down, and gestured the woman back up the stairs. She giggled quietly and he followed, enjoying the view.

It was still early; he could worry about the blond later.

For now, there was fun to be had.

A little bit of Damon action.

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