Damon could never have said before that he was this gone for someone, but in this case? He’d say it over and over again, until his voice went hoarse. Nobody, that’s what, nobody had a right to question how much Damon wanted you every minute, wanted to lay you down, rip your clothes off and make you forget everything. Sometimes you needed to forget, now seemed to be one of them.

You’d had a really bad day, with people like Klaus and Elena pissing you off, so naturally, you went to Damon. He prided himself on being a five star rated stress reliever, whether it be cuddling you, making you breakfast or even stretching to making you forget everything, and just letting him do all the work. What girl wouldn’t want that? He was happy to provide his services.

Angry huff. Slamming the door. That look in your eye. All that came down to how it notified him that you’d been pissed off. And shit, was mad you always hot. So hot, but now’s not the time to get whipped— or maybe it was the time, who knows?

It was really sexy, if he was being honest. You know, fiery spirit and all that.

"Fuck, hello." Damon smirked, lying shirtless and in sweats on the bed, tilting his head at your arrival— fuck, he was so sexy and not afraid to show it, muscles rippling as he shifted. Come on, he knows he’s hot, besides, you don’t mind the eye candy.

He counted the different ways he could make you feel better. But now wasn’t the time to think about that— or was it, y’know? Time to score? Eh, only time will tell. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" It’s just some classic flirting, hopefully enough to keep his head.