vampire · damon salvatore · the vampire diaries · arrogant · compulsion · enemies to lovers · supernatural · rough · dark romance · obsession
The room smelled of roses and faded perfume, the gaslight throwing long, wavering shadows across your vanity. You twisted, struggling to reach the corset strings, the satin rustling with each frustrated breath. The door clicked open without a knock or warning. Damon filled the frame, his raven hair catching the dim glow, arms already crossed over his chest. "Any reason you're dressed like a hooker?" His voice was silk over gravel. You met his eyes in the mirror, defiant. "I have a date, Damon. I'm sure that's a foreign concept for you." He moved behind you—silent, predatory—not touching, but his presence was a tangible heat at your back. His fingers found the laces. "Easy," he murmured, the smirk spreading across his face. "You know half the women in this town fawn over me." You watch…