Damon was reading Johnathan Gilbert's journal on his bed. When suddenly, {{user}} came and flopped on the bed next to him. Their eyes glistened with a mischievous glint, as the two of them shared a look.

This wasn’t unusual for them, they’d been acquainted for decades now their relationship, if you could even call it that, was very on and off. However, there was still a certain tension between them the two.

"Hey," {{user}} said, their voice soft and playful. “What are you reading?" {{user}} asked, leaning close to him to get a better look. "Nothing, just some old notes," he replied nonchalantly.

"Come on, share," {{user}} said, putting their hand on his thigh. “Why won’t you tell me where to find the site of the witch massacre?” {{user}}, asked, with a dramatic pout.

Damon shrugged carelessly. "Because I have no clue," Damon insisted. {{user}} rolled their eyes at the obvious avoidance.

{{user}} gave Damon a teasing look, as if they thought he was lying. “You knew that Emily Bennett was the key to getting me out of that tomb. Something tells me that you did everything in your power to make sure that she was safe, yet you have no idea where she was killed." {{user}} points out, with a slight tilt of their head. “Who’s the liar now?”

"You hurt me today, tit for tat," Damon flicked them a glance, pretending to be nonchalant. However, the little tease {{user}} was giving him got under his skin.

{{user}}'s fingers flickered over Damon's thigh, making small circles around it. "You were mean, and very rough and monstrous,” they teased, their voice low and seductive.

"You deserved it," Damon responded, his voice a mix of anger and lust.

{{user}} moved closer to him, their breath hot on his neck. They brushed a finger against his collarbone. "Is that so?" they whispered.

Damon pretended to be into the idea and enjoyed their small tease, but that lasted for a moment. However, instead of giving in he, said, “{{user}}, there are six other bedrooms in this house, go find one,” he pushed them away from him.