Dinner was surprisingly comfortable. Abigail allowed herself to fall back into the calm that had once come from Damon's presence near her and he was trying very hard to stay charming. She took small sips from her wine glass, never getting below half a glass, because while wine was a staple in her upbringing, she wasn't overly fond.

Dessert was a simple tart, apple and pear, with a crust so light and flaky that she couldn't hold back an appreciative moan. Dear Lord, she thought, the flavors bursting on her tongue, how did he learn to do all this?

"I'll take that as a compliment," Damon offered from his seat, shifting because her moan had gone straight to his pants. "I rarely cook, so having you appreciate it makes it more worthwhile."

Abigail smiled around her fork, taking the time to chew carefully and swallow before speaking. "Thank you, then, for preparing such an absolutely wonderful meal, Damon."

"Anytime," and he meant it. She could tell and he wanted her to hear that sincerity down to the toes she had hidden in those decadent fucking heels she was wearing. He watched her bite her lip and felt a lurch in his stomach. Were those butterflies? He took a mouthful of wine to fortify himself and went back to the steady stream of conversation that they'd had before she made that noise, the one he wanted to hear her make with their naked bodies touching.

"Dinner was wonderful," Abigail reiterated, as he sat next to her on the leather couch. "When did you learn to cook?"

Damon smiled and thought back. "Not long after I left," her smile held, so he went on. "We eat, you know that from-" Shit. Katherine rears her head again. But his eyes met Abigail's and he saw that she hadn't moved or flinched. "Anyway, I thought that I'd better learn to feed myself, and I did."

"I think you did better than that." Abi's smile took his breath away. She turned to see the flickering flames of the fire he'd started and he studied her. "This house, is it still set up as a boarding house?"

Damon hummed the affirmative. "It is, but we don't actually use it that way, of course."

"Of course," Abi murmured. "Do I get a tour?" Did Damon imagine the flirtation he thought he heard in the question? "Damon?" He must have stopped moving and breathing.

"Do you want one?" She smiled and his breath caught again. She owned him, and had since they were children, but God he felt unsure. "Let's go-" He stood and helped her to her feet, a glance down at the heels had him swallowing hard. "I love the shoes."

"Thought you might," she replied, and their eyes met again, and he felt thirsty. So damn thirsty that he nearly took her lips for another spin. "Well?" Damon blinked, taking a minute to remind himself of what he was supposed to be doing. Tour of the house, right.

Abigail was smiling internally and externally as Damon showed her the house. The entirety was as well designed and decorated as her first impression of the library gave her. The upstairs Stefan's room cluttered with papers, books, and journals held no interest for her. She felt Damon start to fidget, something he hadn't done even as a child, and she understood when he led her to a door at the end of the hall.

"My room," it was a breath, and Abi took her own as he opened the door.

His bed was massive and central. A bath, with a clawfoot tub peeked at her from an open door. She walked inside, curious. Damon's room hadn't been as off limits as hers became when she moved to the Salvatore home, but she hadn't been a frequent visitor. This room, with its dark wood and white linen, was foreign to her. The bathroom seemed as huge as the bedroom, and she itched to take a longer look. Her feet, careful on the bare wood floor with her heels barely making a sound, crossed the room seemingly of their own accord.

The bathroom was as large as she'd thought, and the entire thing looked as inviting as his bedroom. She swallowed when she felt the warmth of his body come closer. Her eyes closed as his finger barely touched her shoulder, covered by her jacket still. Biting her lip, she felt him move closer, his heat nearly burning the length of her back as he brushed her neck with one fingertip.

"Abigail?" She heard him swallow and her legs nearly buckled, but like he once had been and how he seemed so sure he wanted to be again, he was there to rescue her. His arm wrapped around her, under her breasts, and held her steady. "I want so badly to take my time and not rush you."

His voice was still so quiet that she knew he felt conflicted, as conflicted as she wasn't. Turning she looked up at him, her hand curling around his neck and taking advantage of the extra height her heels gave her, she pulled him down to her. "Is it a rush if I've waited over a hundred years?"

And then their lips met and he got to hear it again. That noise she'd made over the tart, only deeper, hungrier. His arms moved, wrapping around her and pulling her tight against him. Feeling her softness, her warmth, the pounding of her heart and the scent of her hair almost overwhelming him. Abi's tongue was tempting his and he was taking every single thing she offered and giving it back a thousandfold. This time, even without his extra senses, even without the experience that time had afforded him, he knew that nothing would stop them. Nothing short of a natural disaster, and even then, he wasn't sure they'd notice.

Abigail was off her feet, lifted into Damon's arms and carried bridal style to his bed. The jacket tossed off, the zipper of the dress he'd bought her loud as he pulled it down, mouth never leaving hers, so hungry for the taste of her that she thought they wouldn't survive it, but she couldn't seem to care. Her hands were tugging his shirt off, and that forced his lips from hers, but then her dress pooled at her feet and he swallowed so hard that she was certain they could hear it in town.

"My God, Abigail Morgan, who created you?" And then, she was in his arms again, his mouth hot on hers as he lifted her onto the bed, laying her back on the pillows so he could drink in her nearly naked form. She watched, licking her lip as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, as he slid them off, as they were left on the floor with her jacket and dress and his shirt. Then he was over top of her, his hands sliding up the bared skin of her legs, his mouth touching her neck, and she thought if she died, then and there, it would all be worth this. "Tell me to stop, Abi," his words mumbled against her skin even as he lowered his hips and let their pelvises touch. "Tell me now, because I swear-" but her hands found the back of his head and she was pulling him back to her for another kiss.

Their mouths memorized one another, the way his tongue seemed to dance with hers, the quickness that she learned the steps. Her hands didn't stay on his head, she wanted and needed to touch him as much as he did her, so she slid down, over his back feeling the muscles and strength of him. His were teasing her sides, her hips, before growing bolder and finally cupping her breasts. She sighed at the feeling and he rocked his hips, earning a moan and whimper of need from her mouth.

"Please," she whispered, breaking their kiss to beg for what she didn't know. She only knew that she needed more. So much more.

Damon's mouth, free of hers, worked down her body, he wanted everything. Every single decadent thing he'd ever had with another lover, he wanted with Abigail Morgan. And he planned, come Hell or highwater, to have it. Tonight.

Shifting lower, his mouth tasting every inch of her bare skin, paying careful attention to those breasts that had tempted him for decades of dreams, learning every spot that caused her to gasp, to beg, to plead with him for more. When he kissed her, there over her panties, she arched up into his touch and he smiled. She did want him, as badly as he wanted her. Nudging her mound, another kiss over the flimsy fabric, and she offered his name as a whimper. He wanted to hear it on her lips forever, and from this moment on, that was his goal.

The panties were gone, and then, his mouth touched her folds, and she cried out. Her fingers slid through his hair and he smiled, knowing that she was his, and he planned on showing her over and over how much he adored her.

Abigail felt like she couldn't catch her breath as he tasted her THERE. Oh my God, she thought, as his tongue slipped inside of her and her hips lifted off the bed. His hands held her down, as he savored her, causing her lips to release his name over and over. The only word she seemed capable of forming.

And then Damon's face was in front of hers again, his hand lifting her leg, his underwear gone and he was inside of her. Her nails bit into his shoulders as he let her take a moment to grow accustomed to the fullness, her sigh as she rolled her hips gave him the confidence to move. The leg he held, he wrapped around his hip, giving him the angle to press deeper and she moaned, biting her lip.

"Look at me, Abi," her eyes opened, meeting his. "That's right, sweetheart, let me see your eyes." His hips moved and her mouth dropped open. "How does that feel, Abigail?" She whimpered, swallowing as he rolled again. "I have waited so long for this, so long."

Damon could feel her inner walls clenching around him and he fought against his urge to take her, hard and fast, the way he yearned to. It was her first time. His Abigail's first lovemaking, and he wouldn't- but then she arched her back and rocked against him and he lost the fight. Their lips met again, biting into one other's mouths as he let go. Her fingernails had moved from tearing at his shoulders to clutching his head and he growled as she rolled him onto his back.

Abigail was a natural at so many things, but this, he thought as he sat up so they were still pressed together while she rode him was the one trait he was most appreciative about. Her braid was tossed behind her back as her head fell back in abandon, giving his mouth and tongue free reign on her throat.

He knew his face had changed, it always did when he let go, but she didn't seem to care when her hands cupped his cheeks and their eyes met again. "Taste me?" She begged, and he forgot what had happened to Katherine when she tried it, he forgot that she was the woman he adored, he needed to taste her blood and as his teeth sharpened, as his lips met her pulse, all he could think about was how sweet she was and would be. His teeth punctured her skin, and she rocked against him harder as the first drops met his tongue, and far from the vileness that Katherine experienced, all he could taste was heaven, and all she could feel was completion.