Hello one and/or (*hoping*) all!

Here's some culinary fun with our favourite Twin Flames; please indulge me and let me know your honest responses : )

Honey

I pottered around the kitchen in Damon's black shirt, finding eggs, a pan and some bread and was about to start making breakfast- all the while imagining a ridiculously adorable sleeping vampire upstairs- when I was literally swept off my feet.

"Hey!" I managed before Damon propped me on a seat on the opposite side of the island to the stove. He took over my activity, foraging for cream and fruit and cracking the eggs in a heating pan in seconds. It was a blur.

Less than half a minute later he was slicing a peach on the island surface.

"I was doing that," I grumbled, folding my arms and crossing my legs. He peeked up and eyed my cleavage, which I hid with revenge by doing up a couple of buttons. He smirked.

"And now I'm doing it better," he retorted, throwing the sliced peach over his shoulder without looking and with perfect aim into a new pan on the hob.

I huffed and tried to conceal my fascination with what he was preparing and his half-naked body. Damn breakfast, I'll have a slice of that! I found myself thinking before hurriedly forcing a blush at myself.

The angles of his shoulderblades as he reached for honey, the fine shadows of his toned obliques tensing as he ripped open a packet of strawberries...

He caught my eye and I pursed my lips and glared away from him, watching instead a couple of birds twittering in a tree outside the open window above the sink.

"Aww, did you want to surprise me?" he teased in a low voice, suddenly behind me as he whisked up batter in a glass bowl.

"No!" I snapped out the lie as I spun round to glare up at him. He shot me his smuggest, most artful smirk and I growled, unable to stop my instinctive smile back.

"When will that stop working!"

Damon just shook his head and smiled, suddenly metres away as he slid the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and put the plate in the oven, pouring the pancake mix in the pan at the same time.

The kitchen was beginning to smell divine, the strawberries pungently sweet in a bowl to my left and the peaches frying in in their own caramelised syrup in the pan.

"Just for the record, Elena," Damon spoke, sitting next to me as though he had a few spare moments, a dish towel slung over one shoulder. "You never need to try to surprise me."

"Very smooth," I murmured, heat prickling my skin as he eyed my bare thighs and his shirt on my body.

"Right now," he sighed, "I'm hungry." And he returned to being chef. I felt it was unfair he could tease and leave me so easily and beckoned my inner-minx (the creature who idolised Damon, was her most naughtiest for him).

When he turned round ready to serve up pancakes, I was sans-shirt but with honey striped over what I knew were parts irresistable to Damon. I just stood there and watched him with a matter-of-fact stare.

He could have super-speeded his way over to me but instead he put down the pan with patience, fully assessed his prey and panther-stalked over to me, eyes deliberately leaving my body and burning into my own.

I thought he would stand there forever, motionless but when I saw a slight twitch in his lip from where he was biting the inside of it, I knew this was a game of will.

Who would move first?

Honey dripped to my ribs and rolled down my stomach into my navel and I matched Damon's scorching smoulder with my own.

With no warning, no other inch of him moving, two fingers pushed inside of me and crooked to exactly the right spot. I couldn't restrain the gasp or stop my spine extending as my body almost went up on tiptoe to offer itself to him.

Two minutes later, I was up on the counter, hand gripping the handle of an overhead cupboard as he devoured my breast, fingers working at a crippling rate. Before he could end me, however, I managed to reach the honey and oozed some onto his back, giggling as he growled and I bent over him to lick it up only with the tip of my tongue.

Both still sticky and neither of us having yet climaxed, he picked me up and put me back on my seat, draping his shirt over me as he returned to breakfast preparations. I almost pined and he caught my look of melancholy with a reassuring smile before ordering me to eat from the several dishes now on the island. I was distracted momentarily from my sexual frustration and entertained by the way in which he had rather elegantly served up the actual necessary nutrition- blood- in two champagne glasses. Actually, it sort of hurt me to know how he must've thought that one up- "champagne" equalled celebration. He was nudging at us finally being here. I toasted him and managed a not-too-intense or pointed smile, which I know he appreciated.

What a feast followed.