Damon, in his long, long, life has never really had an actual girlfriend (he doesn't count Molly Capolla - they were five and she left him hanging when he accidentally stepped on her daisy-train) Let there be no mistake - he has entertained many, many, women in his lifetime (and has had his fair share of week long marathon sessions) but he's never actually been committed to someone. Well, there was Katherine, but it's pretty clear now that his affections for her were severely misplace and misguided...

He'd rather not think about it.

So, he's never had a girlfriend, true, but Damon knows enough to know that he and Soleil are good together. The kind of good that sends an odd thrill through his body when he realizes again and again, over the course of the next couple of weeks, that he is half of something pretty damn wonderful.

o o o

Soleil's backyard reminds Damon of Alice in Wonderland. It's chaotic, and bursting with color, and the grass is allowed to grow wild. It smells fresh, and clean, and the sound of running water is a constant due to the quirky stone fountain shaped like a small round table with painted tea cups in a haphazard circle and a spouting tea kettle in the middle. The water flows through the spout and into one cup while the others spit water up and into the top of the uncovered kettle. There are three trees back there – from one hangs a simple swing made of thick rope and a piece of plywood painted forest green. The other two are close enough for a hammock to hang between them and that is where Damon lays on his back now, one leg swinging off the edge to keep a barely there momentum going while Soleil straddles his waist.

"Tell me more about you."

"Like what?" he drawls and squints up at her face. The sun streams through her hair creating a sort of halo effect and his hands smooth up her thighs.

She shrugs slight shoulders dotted with freckles. "I don't know. Something I don't know yet. Tell me more about your home. Oh, tell me more about Stefan."

He slides his eyes closed and affects a nonchalant tone of voice. "Nothing really to tell." The truth is there is way too much to tell when it comes to both Mystic Falls and Stefan. Tricky questions can easily lead to tricky answers and Damon hasn't told Soleil everything yet. Not about his father, and Katherine. Not a word about Elena, which of course means he really hasn't even told her why he left Mystic Falls in the first place - just a casual 'things were getting crazy' and left it at that. He's not hiding this information per se - it's just an exhausting line of conversation to go down, and right now all he wants to do is lay in the sun and try to work his fingers under the hem of Soleil's short, flowing summer dress. "He's disgustingly noble and a martyr - its irritating as hell," Damon continues. "He spends hours fixing his hair in the morning and has an obscene amount of morals."

"And you don't?"

A smirk slides across his lips as he continues to move his hands up her smooth thighs. "Not a one."

He can hear the smile in her voice when she responds, allowing his palms to continue their journey. "Is that so?"

"Mhm."

"That sounds bad, dating a vampire with no morals."

"You get used to it." His words are as easy as the fingers tracing the fabric of her silky underwear. He grins when he hears her heart rate speed up and feels the small shiver run down her spine.

"Is that what the other girls did?" Her voice is impressively steady what with Damon's fingertips doing what they currently are.

"What other girls?" he murmurs and shifts underneath her, subtly pressing his groin upwards. He still hasn't opened his eyes, but his grin widens at the sound of a hitch in her breathing.

"You must have had other girlfriends." Even though her questions are coherent, Damon can tell Soleil is distracted by the way he's teasing her, allowing his fingers to dip underneath silk, but avoiding anything vital. Her own hands slip underneath his thin black T-shirt and slide up his abdomen and chest. "All these years you've been alive, you must have had dozens."

Tricky questions, tricky answers. This is probably the perfect opportunity to break things down - he could explain that he hadn't been interested in a solid relationship for the first one hundred and twenty something years after his Turning, but once again it would lead back to Katherine. He could also explain about foolishly falling in love with Katherine's doppelganger and having his heart continually handed to him in that situation, but he really, really, doesn't want to talk about Elena right now. Or ever, really. "I don't really date," he says instead, softly - he pulls aside the delicate fabric with the fingers on his left hand and uses the first two on his right hand to distract her.

She's wet for him, slippery and slick and her breath judders out when he circles the bundle of nerves, not quite touching it just yet. That feeling of euphoria slips over him again, flowing through his veins - he loves finally being able to touch her like this - to feel her hands against his bare skin, and feel her hot heat, and taste her tongue on his. He's had a lot of sex. A lot, a lot of sex with many different women in the past, and each lay has been fucking fantastic (it takes a lot for sex to be awful) but being with Soleil... there's just something different about it. And that's as far as he's taking that thought because, really, he's not going to turn into a pansy about this.

Her nails dig gently into the skin of his chest when he slips two fingers inside of her and her whimper sends a delicious shiver cascading down his spine. "So... I'm special?" she asks and immediately takes a deep inhale of breath through her nose when Damon begins to pump his fingers slowly in and out.

He opens his eyes now and looks up into her face. Eyelashes flutter against the tops of flushed cheeks and a soft pink mouth hangs open a little in blissful concentration. Damon slips his unoccupied hand out from under her dress and slides it up her back to cup the back of a sun-warmed neck. He presses his foot to the ground to keep the hammock from swinging and pulls her down so that his lips meet hers in a soft kiss. Continuing to move his fingers, Damon pumps his hips up and down against the back of his hand, trying to relieve some his own tension. Soleil bites down on his lower lip gently, kisses the abused flesh, and breathes softly into his mouth at the added pressure.

She's close already- he can feel it in the way her small hands flex against his chest and in the way she clenches around his knuckles. He buries his hand in her silken hair, hooks his fingers and uses his thumb to circle the pearl of nerve endings. Her hips rock as she rides his fingers and Damon wishes that they weren't in this hammock - he wants to roll them over, unbutton his jeans, and-

Soleil cries out quietly into his mouth as shivers roll through her body and Damon continues to rub the pads of his fingers against those sensitive ridges inside throughout her orgasm. Finally, he slows and stops both his hand and hips - he's straining against the front of his jeans, but ignores it as she gives a lazy, satisfied moan and kisses his top lip, then the bottom and each corners. "Thank you," she whispers and nuzzles her nose against him. Besides the obvious, this Damon's favorite thing about satisfying her. The first time Soleil thanked him after sex, he had furrowed his own sated brow in confusion. "For what?" he'd asked, running fingers through her damp hair.

"For making me feel so good," she'd responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to thank someone for an orgasm.

It took Damon the first few times to get used to this, and now he smiles softly against her lips and nudges her nose. "You're welcome." They lay there for a few minutes, the sun warming their skin and her fluttering kisses brushing his face and neck. "Yes, by the way." His voice low and a nervous energy is balling up in the pit of his stomach - it takes a bit of his courage to confess this to her, to open up and acknowledge what she means to him.

Soleil rolls her shoulders and pushes against his chest so that she is sitting up again, hair cascading over her shoulder and bright eyes, so similar to his own, looking down into his face. "'Yes' what?"

Damon swallows and turns his head to look out into her frantic garden. "You are. Special."

She doesn't say anything, but he can feel her staring at his profile. Then her fingers are cupping his chin and turning his face back towards her own. He stares at her collarbone and the deep green strap of her dress that matches the swing seat. The stroking of her thumb against his cheek causes his eyes to drift shut again and when she kisses his forehead he lets out a deep breath. "You are too." Her words are quiet, their warmth rivaling that of the sun against his hairline. His heart unclenches and the nervous ball of energy bursts into relief and something so strong he doesn't consider it.

"Now," he can feel her smile against his skin as she skims her lips across his forehead and down his cheek. Her fingers move down to fiddle with the button on his jeans and she whispers, "it's your turn."

o o o

Damon takes a beer out of Soleil's refrigerator, easily taking the top off and swigging it down.

"You staying tonight?"

He nods and takes another sip. She pulls open the drawer next to the stove and waves towards it.

"Pick a place and order out. I'm gonna go shower." She stands on her tip toes to give him a swift kiss and her wrinkled nose afterwards makes him smirk.

"Why do you even have beer if you don't like the taste?"

Soleil shrugs. "You drink it. Even though I can't fathom why. It's disgusting. I figured I might as well have some in the fridge so you don't finish all of my tomato juice."

Now it's Damon's turn to wrinkle his nose. "I'd rather drink battery acid."

"What do you have against eating healthy?" she asks with a laugh.

"It's kind of pointless. At least for me."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be that lucky," she smiles and turns to walk towards the bathroom. "I want Chinese," she throws over her shoulder.

Damon smiles after her, mildly glad that no one is around to see his slightly smitten expression. He drains the rest of the beer and sets the bottle down on the counter before digging through the menu drawer. Finding what he needs fairly quickly, he picks up his cell phone to dial out, but the second he does it begins to vibrate. He grins to himself at first, thinking it is Alaric, but a second look at the caller ID has him rolling his eyes. After a few second of deliberation he picks up.

"What?"

"Hello to you to, Damon." Stefan's voice comes through the phone, mild and slightly tired. "Alaric finally told me you called."

Damon flips the menu down onto the counter and turns to root through the fridge for another beer. "I'm surprised it took him this long. I swear that man cannot keep a secret."

"You told him to keep it a secret that you called?"

"No, but I obviously should have." He hears Stefan sigh as he pops the top off the bottle in his hand. "What else has he told you?"

"That you said that you aren't coming back."

"That it?"

Stefan sounds wary. "Is there more?"

"Nope," Damon lies easily. He has no plans to tell Stefan about Soleil. He's not sure why – he's sure his brother won't begrudge him his budding romance. In fact, he would most likely encourage it, glad to hear that Damon was finally caring about someone, about a relationship, seriously. Maybe you're too used to the pattern, the voice in his head murmurs, barely heard. Maybe you're used to them picking him... Damon ignores this with a healthy swallow of bitter liquid.

"You can't just stay away, Damon."

"That's what Ric said. And I'll tell you what I told him – watch me."

"We need your help-"

"You need my muscle and uncanny ability to rip hearts out," Damon scoffs.

"That counts as help."

"What, can you not keep Elena from trying to tie herself to an alter?"

For the first time in the conversation Stefan's voice hardens. "Not funny Damon."

"It wasn't meant to be. It's pathetic, actually. Your girlfriend is ridiculous." It takes a bit of self-control not to tack on 'mine is better.'

"She's just trying to protect everyone she cares about, you included."

Annoyance flares in Damon – partially at his brother for going down this line of persuasion, but also at himself; he's been so predictable when it comes to Elena. Throw him what looks like a bone and he'll jump. "Don't you fucking dare," Damon says angrily. "Don't try to play that angle with me, little brother. It won't work anymore I can assure you."

Damon is grateful when his brother does not attempt to play dumb, and the brief silence gives him enough time to get his temper under control. "Are you seriously not coming home?" Damon says nothing, but takes another sip of beer. "Fine," Stefan says through a sigh. "Listen, I gotta go-"

Damon hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the counter. Why did Stefan have to call now – when Damon was in a good mood and Mystic Falls far from his mind? Not that far. Okay, he has been thinking about the place ever since he'd talked to Alaric that first time, but he isn't going back. But even as Damon thinks this a small niggle of curiosity and what feels like the familiar worry makes itself known. He hasn't really allowed Alaric to fill him in, but he does know the plan is to kill Elijah. "What do they think I can do about it?" Damon grumbles to himself, but he thinks anyway. Considers, maybe, just maybe, paying Mystic Falls a little visit.

He ponders until Soleil's fresh scent and water warmed skin surrounds him, arms sliding around his waist from the back. "What'd you order?" she asks quietly and Damon turns and bends his neck to kiss her deeply, putting Mystic Falls and all it entails in the back of his mind for now.