A/N: Hello guys!

Yes, again, I am back. After almost two months I got time to finally sit down and get through those many words I've written since September. My life is crazy, but this is still a great escape from reality and I use it oftenly, just not that much often to be able to publish every week. *sigh*

Anyway, this chapter is full of feelings and thoughts and even a little bit of passion and danger. Only the very last part is from Damon's point of view, otherwise this chapter is Elena's masterpiece. Thank you in advance for reading and leaving me here some of your thoughts!

I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Warning: Mature Content. And by the way, I don't own The Vampire Diaries, nor the Florence & The Machine band. If I could, I would allow Ian Somerhalder to do cuddle sessions with his pets all day long and Florence Welsch would sing/play to me everytime and everywhere I wanted.

I was on a heavy tip

Tryna cross a canyon with a broken limb

You were on the other side

Like always, wondering what to do with life

I'd already had a sip

So I'd reasoned I was drunk enough to deal with it

You were on the other side

Like always, you could never make your mind

Before you start the journey of your life, you should know a few important things.

First, there will be no miracles in your life. No magic involved in anything you do. No Karma. No God. It will be just you, the whole never-ending universe and your choices. Together, these things create what you call 'life'. For some creatures a simple thing that doesn't mean that much. For other beings, it's everything they have.

That is, by the way, the first choice you're going to make - if you want to live or if you want to just exist. Nobody chooses for you. Nobody helps you live your life.

Then, there are other people.

Prepare yourself that people will come and go. Some of them may always remember you, but a lot of them you will not see ever again, because their souls were probably not as beautiful as you thought they would be. It will be hard - saying goodbye. To everything and mainly to your old self after every time someone or something breaks your whole being. But, never forget that your heart is strong. Never forget that you can always make it out. Never forget that isolation is a gift. And - this one is super important - never forget it's your life.

Your choices.

Your universe.

Your you.

And with one kiss

You inspired a fire of devotion

That lasted for twenty years

What kind of man loves like this?

The man that had showed me the magic of life is no ordinary person. He feels too much, loves even more and thinks about so many things at once, which he would never openly admit.

You can never say you know him after only one meeting. He makes it damn impossible for you to get even the smallest glimpse of who he really is. But, once you do see the real version, not just the pretending and sexy smirks, you can never let him go.

The problem is that I had to let him go.

Call it being selfish. Call it breaking heart of the man you love. Call it thinking of yourself too much. Call it however you want, but there are times in your life when there is no other option than letting go.

Even if it breaks you in the half and the whole existing hurts like never before.

I think that I always knew how this would end. The universe had given me so many signs and I'd ignored every one of them. Because, for the first time in my boring life, I felt like I have a choice. Like I can do whatever I want. Like there is nothing and no one holding me back.

At start, it really felt this way. It was mind-blowing, as he would say. However, then came the heartbreak. And, even though he thinks that I am the only one who let go of who we were together, in reality it was the both of us.

Maybe, it wasn't the right time. Maybe, there never will be the right time. I only know that I will never ever be able to forget the life and the love he had showed me.

You're a holy fool all colored blue

Red feet upon the floor

You do such damage, how do you manage

Trying back for more?

"You are you."

"What?" Damon asks while his eyebrows raise incredible heights.

His cheeks are slightly red from the heat creeping into his bedroom through the opened window situated right above his massive bed. The hair on the top of his head is disheveled from the repetitive rolling in the bed's silk-like, dark sheets.

I put my camera on the nearby table and move closer to his sitting form. The room is covered with last rays of warm sunshine that together with Damon's naked chest create incredible scenery.

If I only knew how to transfer it into my camera.

"The way you act," I start explaining, "it reflects the person that you are."

"I still don't understand your babbling," he retorts with a grimace.

"I mean… That you act the same as you think."

Damon laughs in that breathy manner which always makes me want to hear other sounds he is capable of making.

"Is that an insult?"

I shake my head. "Not at all."

"You should try it," he hints and then lies on his back, which moves the light blue jeans he's wearing slightly downwards and shows more of his glorious body. As I study his lying and mostly exposed form coated in various strikes of light, my heart makes an uncharacteristically strong jump and my hands start sweating.

Oh… again?

Since we started working together - without Frank and Bonnie - my body has been acting strange. And by strange I mean not only thundering heart and sweating hands, but also quivering belly and dirty, dirty, dirty thoughts. His presence consumes me much more than before. His words make me hot in much more dangerous places than before. And his touch? I crave his touch. Or, at least my body does.

Yes, that's it, just reactions of my stupid body. Physical attraction, nothing more and nothing less. I've experienced it before and I surely will experience it again.

It. Does. Not. Mean. Anything.

I had to zone out for a little bit because when I look back to Damon's face, his eyes are curiously studying my expression and his lips are curling into that annoying smirk.

Before I can avert my gaze and just start acting like if nothing had ever happened between us, Damon turns closer to me and rests his weight on his strong arms.

"Sinful thoughts?" he asks while smirking.

"I… I… I am…"

I am now having really, really dirty thoughts about the way you pronounce the word sinful.

"What?"

This is too much.

"I am going home," I say and turn around, grabbing the tripod and other photographic equipment, all the while ignoring the man lying on the bed behind my back.

"I won't do it again."

His promise is soft, almost a whisper, but I hear it clearly and the heaviness of his words forces me to stop my quick departure. "I know."

I can hear a crack of his bed, followed by a long sigh. "I've never felt ashamed of myself for wanting what I want."

Slowly, I turn around and discover that he's now sitting against his headboard, legs crossed and fingers playing with his dark sheets. I wonder what those fingers could do to other dark places.

"You want me?" I mumble, my heart almost stopping from the inner shock it is currently feeling.

He hums and then adds: "You are a beautiful girl. Clever. Sexy." His smirk turns my cheeks into deep red. "But I don't screw perfect girls."

There is a heavy question drifting through my mind and I let it get out. "Why would you think that I am perfect?"

Damon thinks about his answer for a few seconds, but then just mutters something like 'doesn't matter'. I lift my eyebrows and beckon him to elaborate.

"You don't want me and I can't want you, so…"

"So?" I press, but seeing his annoyed face causes me to suggest a desperate deal. "We can be friends."

And his eyes get that curious glint again. "Why would you want to be my friend?" he challenges.

Actually, I can't find a reason which would be good enough and which he wouldn't find desperate. Why would I want him to be my friend? Apart from working together we clearly don't have anything in common. However, I'm tired of these 'who's better' contests. I'm tired of listening to his stupid comments. I'm tired of him invading my every thought.

Thankfully, I remember what Frank had told me and I use it as my best argument.

"I think you can teach me a thing or two."

If only that stupid smirk of his didn't make it sound like it was a dirty thought.

"Um... I mean... that you are really inspiring," I correct with a nervous smile.

He's quiet and his smirk is slowly modified into thin line. "Apart from Bonnie, I don't have female friends. It's not a good idea."

"Look," I say and walk to one corner of his enormous bed, "that one night you told me that I don't know you. And I want to change that. I really do."

It's the only thing that can save me.

"There is not much interesting about me," he tries to convince me. "I sleep. I drink alcohol. I have sex with 20-year-old girls."

"That's what you do, but it's not who you are inside."

His laugh is like a melody, yet I don't join him. "You're babbling again."

"You think I enjoy your babbling?" I ask harshly. This is getting ridiculous. He is ridiculous. "Please, Damon, I am not a naive girl. I don't want anything from you. It's just better when you can think of others as your friends. That's all I'm trying to say."

Here dies my feministic soul.

"Ew, you are worse than my mother," he mutters as his head repeatedly bumps into the headboard. Then he turns serious. "Okay. But I want something in return."

Not serious enough.

"And that's what?" I question, tired of this game.

I've seen drunken Damon. I've seen angry Damon. I've seen seductive Damon. I've seen many faces of this ridiculous man, but I've never seen him sparkling.

Yes, Damon Salvatore is sparkling.

"I want a kiss."

Shit.

"I… I am…"

Speechless.

"Going home?" the sparkling devil asks. "Then go. But let me remind you that we are going to be together practically every day and I can make it a real hell for you."

As I said, he's the devil.

I turn furious and then angry and then I just have to ask.

"You are blackmailing me?"

"You want something from me. It's natural that I want something too," he explains and that annoying smirk is back again.

"You are worse than my friend Caroline," I mutter to myself, but he's already standing and taking long steps towards me. I am trying to back away from him, only to find my back pressing against the wall.

Again.

He's in front of me in less than two seconds and I get déjà vu. "Enough talking. I want a kiss. Then I can tell you one really funny story about how I lost virginity to my high school teacher."

I want to be disgusted with him, especially when he's smirking again, but suddenly his lips are in my sight and I can't stop myself from wetting my own.

This is ridiculous.

"One kiss," I whisper as my hands grab his bare shoulders.

"With or without tongue?"

I smack the palm of my right hand against his smirking mouth. "Enough," I press through gritted teeth.

Damon mutters something, but I am too distracted with the smoothness of his skin to notice what it was. My fingers slide to his cheeks; my eyes inspect his lips and my breathing gets hundred times quicker.

As his cheeks get covered in a cute blush, I begin leaning closer, closer, closer, until our breaths are mingling, and then...

I kiss the devil.

It's short, sweet, almost chaste, but utterly nice.

And definitely not enough.

He feels it too. Of course he does. He's the one who mutters 'perfect' and with his hands on my hips he slams my whole body into the wall behind me. As crazy as it sounds, the clever girl in me is suddenly forgotten. Dirty thoughts exit the place where they had been hiding and start controlling my body.

I'm back against the wall, but today I'm not in the prison.

Today, I am free.

But I can't beat you

Cause I'm still with you

Oh mercy I implore

How do you do it?

I think I'm through it

Then I'm back against the wall

Her lips are flawless, just like I'd been imagining since the first time I laid my eyes upon them. The way they slowly move against mine, their incredible softness and the taste…

Almost as good as my mother's chocolate cake.

It doesn't take them long to ask me for more and I gladly give it to them as I delicately probe their opening with my eager tongue. I take in the shaky breath those perfect lips let out for me and then get my first taste of her.

But just when Elena moans and her own tongue meets mine for the first time ever, the door to my bedroom opens with a big bang and a soon-to-be-dead blonde bimbo storms inside.

Any other time? I would suggest doing a hot group sex. But with Elena? Not possible.

Even my dick knows that the party is over.

"Damon?!"

Oh no, not this again.

"What are you doing with her?"

I study closely the face of our blonde intruder and discover that it's the girl I was fucking just mere hours ago. Suddenly I get the feeling that I don't want Elena listening to this conversation. I think to myself that it's because I want Elena and not because I am ashamed of my night and morning activities.

Yes, that's exactly the reason.

"What are you doing here?" I question while Elena slowly backs away from me. I watch her face transforming from utter shock to guilt mixed with anger.

Lots of anger.

She's out of the door before I have the chance to say anything else.

What kind of man loves like this?

If you want me to continue with this story, leave me a review or simply favorite/follow my story. I accept any and every idea/suggestion/opinion. Thank you!