Disclaimer: It really doesn't belong to me. It belongs to L.J. Smith, so don't sue. However there will be some characters that do belong to me and when they are presented in the story, I will be sure to point them out.
Title: Baby Got Back Series
Author: Rafae
Rating: R
Spoilers: All VD books
Series/Sequel: Yes/Yes
Feedback: Loved!
Summary: A series of a event that lead to an interesting relationship between Damon and Meredith (not romantic). Then Bonnie shows up and Meredith tease Damon. This is a different look at three interesting characters. And then there are the funny sex scenes.
Note: Thanks to J.A.K for pointing out that my story was clumped together because there were no breaks. I uploaded this as an html file so that I may give it different breaks and stuff. Also thanks for the commments. I'm actualy experimenting with a new Damon.
Part 1/?
Fuck
Damon woke up in an unusual state. He was in a different room, in a different bed, with his head laid against a warm muscled stomach and his arms wrapped around a slim waist. Alive. The body beneath him was most definitely alive, and female, judging by the form.
What had happened last night?
Everything was hazy, but he could vaguely recall having gone out that particular night, in search for his next conquest and ultimate meal. He had been staying in New York for the last couple of weeks, hoping to get rid of his boredom and discourage his relentless thoughts. Thoughts, that as of late, were of his pesky little brother.
An it all started two months ago, when he had unfortunately ran into his brother and his now wife, Elena. They of course insisted on having coffee, and on 'catching up'. Damon called it 'ganging up'. They had tried to make some sort of connection with him, to 'reach out to him', as if he were some drug addict or alcoholic.
He did his best to ignore him.
They had looked so happy together. Even Elena, who was now human, seemed content with the way everything had turned out. If they are as happy as they look, why couldn't they just go somewhere and fuck like bunnies, leaving him to his own devices.
No such luck. They insisted on asking him caring questions. What had he been up to? How was my life going? What did intend to do for the next few years? What was his purpose in life? And the worst part was that whenever he answered, Elena would pat his knee and gives him these sad looks. What was she doing with her life that's so great? She kept giving of these weird vibes, as if she was always on the verge of saying something incredibly intelligent. Nothing intelligent ever came out of her mouth that night.
She did apologize for everything that had happened in Fell's Church, and said that he and Stefan should try and mend the rift she felt she had increased between them. So self involved! She had nothing to do with his animosity towards his brother that was something that had always been there. She was just another convenient reason to dislike Stefan. What really through him in a silent fit of rage were their looks. They kept giving him these looks that made him feel as if he was missing out on something that he had never known existed. As if somehow their happiness was something he lacked and that somehow that would make him better. He hated pity looks. Why couldn't they understand that he had chosen his path in life? He had no need for any permanent companion. While pointing that tidbit of information, he had also managed to mention what had happened the last time he had tried getting involved with someone. Once he had said that, he noticed Elena's faint blush and her sudden fascination with the marble tiles of the Small coffee in Milan.
Stefan, however, was the worst of them. He shook his head slowly, sighed deeply and then gave me this intense look, before saying the damned words that still haunt my mind. "Someday, Damon, you'll realize that all the power and wealth you've acquired is meaningless, unless you have someone to share with it. You can't be alone for the rest of you're life. Everyone needs someone. I just hope it's not too late when you figure that out."
"Everyone needs someone."
He hated those cursed words. He'd love to find whomever said them first and kill them and their whole bloodline, so that no other morons with useless three-word-phrases could be spawned. He'd be doing the world a favor.
He spent the next couple of days locked away in his home...surviving on packaged blood!
Windows closed and shades down, with the exemption of a few broken panels that filtered in rectangular shaped rays of light. It all added to the effect of a desolated man. Blood-laced wine in one hand, and the other dramatically placed on his left temple. It did not help his mood when one of the few people he deemed tolerable, waltz's into the apartment with the most ridiculous grin on his face, rambling about some woman or other.
Damon had known Shia for the last couple of years. Their friendship was one he found entertaining, and while he would not admit to it, also valuable. Damon usually respected and admired Shia's opinions, as long as they were feasible. However this time, Damon was afraid, Shia had gone of the bend. He was happy... no, make that ecstatic. He was practically glowing with untamed happiness, and projecting such warm feelings that were frankly... nauseating. He had pointed such observations out to Shia, whom did not appreciate Damon's twisted humor.
Shia, much to Damons horror, pulled a Saint Stefan (so alike, it was almost scary) and told him that he needed to turn his soul around. Damon had wittingly pointed out that he had no soul, to which Shia responded with an exasperated sigh. No one appreciates good old sarcasm anymore. "You need someone to relate to". There he goes, using that dreaded evil word. Need. The only things Damon needs are food and sex... and even the latter he could do without if need be.
So, after a few days of Shia's insistent nagging, calling and stopping by unannounced to 'asses his progress' as if he were inflicted with some kind of illness, Damon decided that enough was enough.
He was Damon Salvatore, and he'd be damned if he needed anyone. He also refused to let his bother and Shia ruined the perfectly uncomplicated vibe he had flowing for centuries. There's only so much Sinatra a man can take before his I.Q., along with his self-esteem dropped down a few notches. Damon decided that what he needed was a change of scenery. Some new faces to make things more entertaining. It was in his best interest to get back in the game, before his players' card was rebuked. And that is how he ended up in this city and in his current situation.
He landed in New York and spent the next couple of weeks hopping from bar to bar and club to club convincing beautiful women to spend a night of passion with him at some upscale hotel, and then dropping them like last years car model.
"So why the hell did I stay last night?"
Damon asked himself, rather loudly, earning a groan from the woman beneath him for his troubles. She muttered something in her sleep, before once again settling into a comfortable state of unconsciousness.
Out of an urge driven by pure curiosity, Damon peered up from under unruly hair at the women who served as a pillow for his head at the moment.
He regretted such action immediately.
Fuck.
Note: This is a little somethin' somethin' in which Damon is out of character, but interesting nonetheless.
Title: Baby Got Back Series
Author: Rafae
Rating: R
Spoilers: All VD books
Series/Sequel: Yes/Yes
Feedback: Loved!
Summary: A series of a event that lead to an interesting relationship between Damon and Meredith (not romantic). Then Bonnie shows up and Meredith tease Damon. This is a different look at three interesting characters. And then there are the funny sex scenes.
Note: Thanks to J.A.K for pointing out that my story was clumped together because there were no breaks. I uploaded this as an html file so that I may give it different breaks and stuff. Also thanks for the commments. I'm actualy experimenting with a new Damon.
Part 1/?
Fuck
Damon woke up in an unusual state. He was in a different room, in a different bed, with his head laid against a warm muscled stomach and his arms wrapped around a slim waist. Alive. The body beneath him was most definitely alive, and female, judging by the form.
What had happened last night?
Everything was hazy, but he could vaguely recall having gone out that particular night, in search for his next conquest and ultimate meal. He had been staying in New York for the last couple of weeks, hoping to get rid of his boredom and discourage his relentless thoughts. Thoughts, that as of late, were of his pesky little brother.
An it all started two months ago, when he had unfortunately ran into his brother and his now wife, Elena. They of course insisted on having coffee, and on 'catching up'. Damon called it 'ganging up'. They had tried to make some sort of connection with him, to 'reach out to him', as if he were some drug addict or alcoholic.
He did his best to ignore him.
They had looked so happy together. Even Elena, who was now human, seemed content with the way everything had turned out. If they are as happy as they look, why couldn't they just go somewhere and fuck like bunnies, leaving him to his own devices.
No such luck. They insisted on asking him caring questions. What had he been up to? How was my life going? What did intend to do for the next few years? What was his purpose in life? And the worst part was that whenever he answered, Elena would pat his knee and gives him these sad looks. What was she doing with her life that's so great? She kept giving of these weird vibes, as if she was always on the verge of saying something incredibly intelligent. Nothing intelligent ever came out of her mouth that night.
She did apologize for everything that had happened in Fell's Church, and said that he and Stefan should try and mend the rift she felt she had increased between them. So self involved! She had nothing to do with his animosity towards his brother that was something that had always been there. She was just another convenient reason to dislike Stefan. What really through him in a silent fit of rage were their looks. They kept giving him these looks that made him feel as if he was missing out on something that he had never known existed. As if somehow their happiness was something he lacked and that somehow that would make him better. He hated pity looks. Why couldn't they understand that he had chosen his path in life? He had no need for any permanent companion. While pointing that tidbit of information, he had also managed to mention what had happened the last time he had tried getting involved with someone. Once he had said that, he noticed Elena's faint blush and her sudden fascination with the marble tiles of the Small coffee in Milan.
Stefan, however, was the worst of them. He shook his head slowly, sighed deeply and then gave me this intense look, before saying the damned words that still haunt my mind. "Someday, Damon, you'll realize that all the power and wealth you've acquired is meaningless, unless you have someone to share with it. You can't be alone for the rest of you're life. Everyone needs someone. I just hope it's not too late when you figure that out."
"Everyone needs someone."
He hated those cursed words. He'd love to find whomever said them first and kill them and their whole bloodline, so that no other morons with useless three-word-phrases could be spawned. He'd be doing the world a favor.
He spent the next couple of days locked away in his home...surviving on packaged blood!
Windows closed and shades down, with the exemption of a few broken panels that filtered in rectangular shaped rays of light. It all added to the effect of a desolated man. Blood-laced wine in one hand, and the other dramatically placed on his left temple. It did not help his mood when one of the few people he deemed tolerable, waltz's into the apartment with the most ridiculous grin on his face, rambling about some woman or other.
Damon had known Shia for the last couple of years. Their friendship was one he found entertaining, and while he would not admit to it, also valuable. Damon usually respected and admired Shia's opinions, as long as they were feasible. However this time, Damon was afraid, Shia had gone of the bend. He was happy... no, make that ecstatic. He was practically glowing with untamed happiness, and projecting such warm feelings that were frankly... nauseating. He had pointed such observations out to Shia, whom did not appreciate Damon's twisted humor.
Shia, much to Damons horror, pulled a Saint Stefan (so alike, it was almost scary) and told him that he needed to turn his soul around. Damon had wittingly pointed out that he had no soul, to which Shia responded with an exasperated sigh. No one appreciates good old sarcasm anymore. "You need someone to relate to". There he goes, using that dreaded evil word. Need. The only things Damon needs are food and sex... and even the latter he could do without if need be.
So, after a few days of Shia's insistent nagging, calling and stopping by unannounced to 'asses his progress' as if he were inflicted with some kind of illness, Damon decided that enough was enough.
He was Damon Salvatore, and he'd be damned if he needed anyone. He also refused to let his bother and Shia ruined the perfectly uncomplicated vibe he had flowing for centuries. There's only so much Sinatra a man can take before his I.Q., along with his self-esteem dropped down a few notches. Damon decided that what he needed was a change of scenery. Some new faces to make things more entertaining. It was in his best interest to get back in the game, before his players' card was rebuked. And that is how he ended up in this city and in his current situation.
He landed in New York and spent the next couple of weeks hopping from bar to bar and club to club convincing beautiful women to spend a night of passion with him at some upscale hotel, and then dropping them like last years car model.
"So why the hell did I stay last night?"
Damon asked himself, rather loudly, earning a groan from the woman beneath him for his troubles. She muttered something in her sleep, before once again settling into a comfortable state of unconsciousness.
Out of an urge driven by pure curiosity, Damon peered up from under unruly hair at the women who served as a pillow for his head at the moment.
He regretted such action immediately.
Fuck.
Note: This is a little somethin' somethin' in which Damon is out of character, but interesting nonetheless.