Disclaimer: TVD belongs to whoever receives the royalties and that sure as hell isn't me. I just pretend while I'm writing.

Summary: After all is said and done Damon is about to leave, but decides to say goodbye to Elena before he does. It doesn't really go as he thought it would.

AN: Ick. I've been suffering from a major case of the infamous writers block bug. That thing's hard to get rid off and has left me a bit lacking in the inspiration department. If it weren't for all you lovelies and your heart-warming reviews I never would have been able to beat the damned bug. I will be getting to those as soon as I can.

oOo

killing for a kiss

oOo

The first thing to tip him off that things have gone horribly wrong is his own heartbeat pounding at a painful volume in his scull, briefly making him wonder if eardrums can be ruptured from within, before his thoughts turn to mush as he clutches his head in a pathetic attempt to alleviate himself.

The second sign of his personal apocalypse is revealed once he finally manages to blink his eyes open and actually focus his gaze. There are dried blood smears and splatters covering the walls and carpet of the already seedy motel room... not to mention that his stark naked body is covered in it. It looks very much like a badly staged massacre in a second rate slasher flick; there's far too much blood.

The third sign of his damnation is that he can't for the life of him, or anyone else's, remember what has happened since the heavenly reconciliation last night in his beloved Camaro. Maybe he tempted fate with his thoughts that he could die happy now that he'd had her wholly.

The fourth sign that he's gone straight to hell is the sight of the seemingly lifeless girl laying nude in a puddle of half dried blood face down a few feet from where he just woke up. Her ebony tresses are a tangled mess of silky strands and caked blood. He'd know those long tan limbs anywhere and the unmistakable divine scent of her blood. The scent is so overwhelming and there is so much blood spilled that she can impossibly still be alive. Panic erupts from deep within him cancelling out whatever else he feels, even the mind numbing pain. He's fucking killed her; his girl; his love; his sweet, funny, wonderful, sexy and amazing Elena... he's killed her.

He scrambles clumsily to his feet, swaying and stumbling forward in a tunnel visioned haze of anxiety. "Elena." He's shouting her name over the loud thumping of his own heart and she's not moving. His fingers frantically search her flesh for the tell tale beat of her heart. Finally the tips of his fingers find the inside of her wrist. Tears well up in his eyes and spill over in relief once the first faint vibration of her pulse penetrates his skin.

He's laughing hysterically as she snatches her hand back in order to cover her ears from the disturbing noise. "Not so loud." She groans pressing her palms harder on her aching ears.

Trying to quiet himself only seems to make his laugher elevate. He can't stop laughing and it's beginning to be painful. He doubles over as the laughter morphs into a three way split between a laugh, a cough and a wheeze. Maybe it's him that's dying.

Once the odd sound coming out of him makes its way into her ears she's instantly crouching in front of him with wide concerned eyes. She looks like some kind of warrior goddess with her olive complexion gleaming with perspiration and speckled with dried arterial spray, her body adorned with thick hand-prints of dried blood smeared onto his favourite parts of her. Her beautiful face is framed by wild silky curls and her lips are almost stained black from drinking his blood. Damn he wants her in a bad way.

Her chocolate brown eyes dart down and her dusky-pink lips settle into a smirk as she lifts them to meet his. "I see you've recovered." She states teasingly as she cocks her head sweetly to the side.

He smirks and rolls his eyes at her. "I thought you were dead." He says in form of explanation.

Furrowing her brow her eyes dart down again and he can't help the impossibly smug grin plastered to his face. "What?" She finally says shooting him a bewildered look to which he simply gestures around encompassing their surroundings. "Did we...?" She trails off seeming to be at a loss for words, much like himself so he simply shrugs.

"You couldn't possibly inform me how in the hell we managed to repaint this room?" He says as the painful pounding in his head decides to make itself known again.

She shakes her head slowly as she scans the room. "You don't remember?" She doesn't have to say the "either" they both know is there.

"Nope." He says instantly regretting that he popped the p since that only made matters worse. "I've never experienced anything like this. Since I turned I've never once blacked out and had memory loss... I'm not supposed to be able to loose time." He rubs his hand gingerly at the base of his scull finally alleviating some of the pain. "Fuck, 'Lena. I'm not supposed to have headaches either. Something is seriously wrong."

She goes ramrod straight as her hands fly up to cover her gasping mouth. "Do you think... it can't possibly... oh, shit... what have I done?" She can't seem to finish a single thought, but he knows exactly what she's talking about.

He wraps her in his strong arms and pulls her onto his lap. "'Lena if you hadn't then I'd be dead." That single statement could be the answer to far to many scenarios, but he knows they're talking about the very same incident.

"Damon." She says in a shaky voice that makes him instinctively hug her tiny body even tighter to him.

He buries his face in her bloodied curls and inhales deeply. She's so delicious. "S'alright love, s'alright." He mumbles into her hair closing his eyes to the mess they've made. He'll most likely have to burn the place down to cover their tracks.

"Damon, wake up." She wheezes, her voice carrying a hint of panic.

He shushes her as he pulls her onto his lap. "I'm up. Don't worry, I'll fix this." He rubs soothing circles on her lower back in that way he knows always calms her heartbeat.

She's panting and he thinks that she might be having another one of those attacks that ends with her fainting. "Open your eyes!" She shrieks breathlessly straight into his ear and now he's sure his eardrums have ruptured.

"Calm down." He murmurs and cracks his eyes open pulling slightly away to capture her gaze. She's NOT covered in blood any more. In fact she's fully clothed and straddling him... in the front seat of his Camaro.

She leans back onto the steering-wheel and heaves a sigh of relief. "Shit. You almost crushed me." She pants and then chuckles softly as if him crushing her were funny and not horribly wrong.

His dark brows furrow and he scans their surroundings. "Was I asleep?" He questions dumbly because what else could that have been.

Her soft chuckles turn into bubbling giggles. "You were hugging me so tightly in your sleep that I almost thought my head would pop off." She does a cute little mini skit of the incident complete with snoring noises and bulging eyes as she makes a popping sound pretending that her head just fell off.

She's so adorable and happy that he can't help but laugh along with her despite the nightmare still lingering in the very front of his mind. "Sorry 'bout that." He smirks allowing his embarrassment to shine through.

She's absolutely delighted by his embarrassment. Grinning widely looking smug as all hell she leans in and gives him a loud kiss. "Tell you what; I might be more inclined to forgive you if you wash my hair." Her grin has turned mischievous and her big brown eyes sparkle with glee.

"Are you inviting me for a shared shower?" He asks far too innocently for her to ever believe he doesn't have devious plans for them.

She huffs playfully feigning chock. "I would never. The audacity..." She says indignantly playing her part perfectly; he so loves to corrupt her... even when it's just pretend.

They've made it out of the car and are waltzing to the beat of their combined hearts in the parking lot. She's giggling and he's chuckling softly because real men don't giggle. It's fun and silly and nothing but the two of them matter. They're dancing and she's still not wearing underwear.

Right. He tore them to shreds. Good job.

He spins her round and round while petals of laughter tumble out of her gifted mouth. "Dip me." She demands just as her fanned out ebony tresses graze his cheek.

He obliges, dipping her low and smoothing a hand up her silky thigh and under her skirt. Her skin is warm and delicious and he really wants to bite her again. He kisses her instead; a hungry open-mouthed kiss that she returns with equal enthusiasm.

They're acting like horny teenagers, well technically she is one, groping each other while they have a very heavy make out session in the middle of the near empty parking lot. He can't help but love the whole sloppy mess.

Her soft warm hands have made their way under his t-shirt and are greedily exploring every inch of his chiselled chest. She's driving him insane with her sexy little whimpers every time he pulls away from her the tiniest bit. It's making their way across the lot take a whole hell of a lot longer then it need be... but he's not complaining. She really fucking wants him. This fact isn't inflating his ego, it's genuinely building a solid foundation for it.

His back hits their room door and she presses herself flush against him, sliding her hands everywhere and fusing her plump lips to his. He has a frustratingly had time finding the doorknob and the key and where the hell to put the damn thing. She's so distracting and he wouldn't want her any other way... who's he trying to kid? He wants her in every and any way he or anyone else might be able to think up... and also in all the other ways no one can or will ever think up.

Finally he manages to open the damn thing and they tumble into the room in a heap of tangling limbs... never breaking contact with each others lips. His foot finds the door and kicks it shut of it's own accord. He's far to immersed in her to be able to think of anything so practical.

She breaks contact with him and he groans; it turns into a near growl when he realizes that she did so only in order to pull her shirt over her head... oh-good-god... she isn't wearing a bra and her dusky-pink peeks are mouthwateringly hard and just begging to be tasted.

As he sits up she wrenches his t-shirt rather forcefully over his head. The mix of her lustfully dilated pupils, aggressive determination and soft caressing hands are driving him insane in the most delightful way. She may be a doppelgänger, but the two are identical in very few ways.

He catches a pert nipple in a wet open-mouthed kiss. Swirling his tongue around the delicious morsel he earns himself a rather loud and breathy moan and a forceful tug on his raven locks. Apparently she wants him to pay equal homage to the perky twins. With a smug grin and exploring fingers he obliges gladly.

Had he been human then she would be sitting with a fistful of his dark tresses in between her slender fingers. When he hisses mostly in surprise her lush lips slide into a triumphant smirk. "That hurt." She states with awe. It crosses his mind that she might have been trying to hurt him all along.

He narrows his glacial gaze at her suspiciously as he simultaneously unzips her skirt. His body and mind are still having some communication problems. "Hmm." He simply hums not quite sure what she's up to or if he actually wants to know.

"Aww, I'm so sorry hon'. I didn't mean to hurt you." She says sounding very pleased with her accomplishment before she leans in and bestows his pursed lips with such a tender kiss that it has his toes curling in his boots. He smiles up at her with a goofy grin as she pulls away... wait... what did she just call him?

He wants to ask her to repeat it so he can be sure, but his idiotic male pride is stifling his attempts. He's pretty sure thought that she just called him hon'... or hun, not that the latter would make much sense since his name isn't Attila.

BUT, he forgets all that and anything else when she pulls her blue skirt fluidly up her slender body and over her head and is left sitting in his lap wonderfully naked except for her signature Chucks. She's fucking glorious.

… and not identical, he files away after spotting a cluster of five tiny little brown birthmarks on her upper inner left thigh, before she shimmies down and frees his feet from his boots and his legs from his pants.

"No." He says abruptly as she reaches for the laces of her own shoes. "Leave them on." He pleads because apparently he has a fetish for her feet in those cute little sneakers of hers.

She shrugs and giggles sweetly crawling up his body like a feline stalking its pray. The intense mix of her sweet innocence and her primal sex appeal ends with him flipping them over and pinning her forcefully beneath him. A part of him screams to be let loose to ravage and own her, but he swallows most of it down because she's still human and his nightmare is still at the forefront of his mind.

She grins lustfully up at him as she encircles his narrow hips with her impossibly long lean deliciously curvaceous legs. She surprises him when she playfully smacks his ass with the flat rubber sole of her shoe. He actually really likes it.

Oh shit, he truly has a fetish for her little feet in those adorable sneakers of hers. He'll have to get her more of those.

She pulls his hips to meet hers with the aid of her surprisingly strong legs. "I hope you don't intend to just stare at me all day." Her husky voice sends a welcome shiver down his spine as he snaps back from the All Star fantasies his mind distractingly conjured up. It's definitely a thing now.

His answer is to dip down his head and suck on the delectable pulse point on her neck. He wants to mark her where everyone can see that she's his. He can't seem to care how possessive and un-PC that is... and since she's moaning his name loudly enough for the rest of the motel guests to hear, he'll take that as her consent to do as he pleases.

As he slides himself smoothly into her waiting wet heat her head tips back, her back arches up and her breath hitches just as he buries himself to the hilt in her. Tears gather in the outer corners of her doe eyes and for a moment he thinks he might have hurt her. The serene smile gracing her features tells him differently.

That ineffable feeling is already there taking completely over him as it swirls outward until it consume him wholly. His mind has no say in things any more as his hips begin to rock and his talented mouth and hands travel her silky skin coaxing moan after mewl after whimper out of her parted plump lips.

He'll never have enough of her.

"Damon." She moans and there is a feeling that doesn't belong to him that rolls over him in a flash wave of electricity. The intensity of it leaves him breathless and panting. Whatever that was, he really would like a whole hell of a lot more of it.

She locks her nearly blackened eyes with his and he can see that same emotion shine brightly in her eyes and when he devours her mouth he can taste it on her soft pink tongue. It's everywhere and it's delicious and he never wants to stop.

She pulls away panting. "Damon, I..." The sentence trails of as she lets out a breathy purr and suddenly he knows what it is. He knows what she's about to say, but he doesn't want to hear it in this seedy motel as they roll round on the filthy floor in the room of his most recent nightmare. He's a sap and a romantic and freaking fatalist and he doesn't want her to say it here... not now.

He bites down on his own wrist and forces it into her mouth as she parts her lips to finish the sentence. He refuses to hear it because... perhaps he's having a minor panic attack because of it.

When her questioning gaze finally manages to pin his down he shakes his head and buries his fangs deeply into one of her firm breasts. He can't do this just yet. He thought it was her that wasn't ready, but it's him. He's such a freaking basket case.

She gives in quickly and buries her pearlies into the grooves his own left. She takes a long deep drag of him and that flash wave of hers runs through him again; slower and far more intense. As it rolls over him and back into her they both climax; he with a choked groan that turns into some sort of incoherent prayer and her swallowing the words she now knows he isn't ready to hear... just yet.

"I dreamt that I almost killed you." He confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability once they've both caught their breaths and the control over their bodies. He generally doesn't offer it up so easily, but after that realization he just had... he knows he can trust her with it. "I had... damn, there was so much blood everywhere there's no way you could have survived it." He says swallowing around the uncomfortable lump quickly forming in his throat.

She cups his face so delicately that it's as if she thinks he's some fragile little thing; like he's easily breakable; he loves that she might just be able to see it. "Hey." She says in a hushed voice. "Look at me." She coaxes and he obliges albeit reluctantly.

He knows that she can see not only straight through him, but also right into his very core. She's the only one who's ever been able to.

"If you had then it would be OK." She says with a soft smile and understanding shining brightly in her eyes and he thinks he might cry if she keeps looking at him like that.

He lets out a disbelieving scoff that he almost chokes on. "OK? Are you out of your mind? Killing you isn't OK." She can't just say things like that and look at him that way when she does it. Doesn't she understand that he's a monster?

Her soft smile morphs into a knowing one. "It's not ideal or how I envisioned it, but I'd come back to you. And isn't that really all that matters?" She's still speaking in that soothing hushed tone as if she's trying to force him to calm down and really listen.

Swallowing down his instant panic and need to yell at her until she understands he acknowledges what she's trying to do and allows her voice to sooth him. He takes a deep breath and lets her words roll around in his mind for a while; forcing himself to understand her. "I agree, BUT me losing control is not something to take lightly." He finally says surprising himself just how much he's managed to calm down.

They both stay quiet for a moment contemplating his statement. "Have you ever?" She says quietly. "Lost control I mean." She adds trying her hardest to be as clear as possible. It really warms him that she's taken his words to heart and is trying to not confuse him as best she can. She's just so good.

He can't help but smile a bit, it's like she's forgotten all his irrational behaviour over the last year. "Yes. Have you forgotten me forcing my blood down your throat or snapping your brothers neck?" He hates bringing these things up, but she needs to remember them; remember what and who he is.

She purses her lips and looks at him in a way that makes it seems as though she hadn't forgotten and that she simply disagrees with him. Now that would just be crazy. "Did you really though?" She says with clear scepticism, continuing before he even manages to open his mouth. "Did you really lose control or were you just hell-bent on getting me back?" She shakes her head making her wild curls dance around her face beautifully. "And with Jeremy... you can't fool me, I know what that was. You were trying to flip the switch and failed. There was nothing out of control about it."

Like he knew; she sees straight into his core. He can't hide from her and at times that terrifies him more than anything else so he just swallows thickly and nods.

"Listen carefully Damon 'cause you need to hear this." She says and he almost stops her again before he realizes that it's not the words she's about to say. "When you kill me... stop looking at me like that, I want it to be you." She says when his face hardens into a blank shell at her words.

He shakes his head angrily because frankly he's so horrified that he simply CAN'T. He's never going to kill her. She's gone fucking insane.

She presses her soft lips to his so tenderly that his mouth has no other option than comply to it's will. "When I've turned twenty-one, I want you to share blood with me and then I want you to kill me." She murmurs softly against his lips. The hot air of her breath tickling his skin delightfully making what she's saying not sound so bad any more. "It's important to me that it's you that does it. I've seen how fast you are and Jeremy told me that it's next to painless. So if it should happen earlier than that, then it's OK as long as it's you that kills me."

He leans back slightly in order to be able to search her eyes; to see if her soulful eyes betray her. "He told you about that?" She simply nods and smiles sweetly in return with no hint of hesitation. "You want me to kill you and would forgive me if I did so prematurely?" He awaits her answer with dread. He isn't sure what he'd like her to answer and that scares the crap out of him. When did he become this... whatever it is that he is now?

"Yes." She states confidently and he thinks he might cry or scream or something drastic, but then she says... "I'll tease you about it for eternity, but yes, you'd be instantly forgiven." She smirks and wraps her arms around his neck and he just chuckles. She's out of her fucking mind.

oOo

AN: I got the idea in my head to write a prequel to this in Elena's pov. It would start the moment Damon forces his blood down her throat and finish the moment this fic starts. Is anyone interested in reading such a thing?