If I Held My Breath 2/2
Title: If I Held My Breath
Chapter: 2/2
Warning: R for language, I suppose.
Character: Tyler/Caroline (future fic)
Summary: She thinks it'd be more appropriate if the place were a ghost town.
Word Count: 12,000 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
She's pacing his living room when he comes through the door, because she's walked through the entire house and ended up back here. She hasn't been snooping or anything, but she's observed. She hasn't touched anything or looked for anything specific. She just wants to know what the house is like now that he lives in it alone, and only part of the time, by the sounds of it.
She doesn't know how she missed it the last time she was here, the photo on the table of her ex with a pretty brunette dressed in white, a happy smile on his face as he looks at her.
"What's her name?" she asks Tyler without looking at him (she heard his car coming down the street, heard the tumble of the lock when he put his key inside) as she stares at the photo.
"Brooke," he says after a moment. "They met freshman year. Just had a baby in the fall."
She can tell he's not nervous or really affected at all by having to be the one to tell her. It shouldn't matter.
"Good," she says quietly. She hears him laugh breathily. "He should be happy."
"Makes one of us, right?" he asks. She turns around to face him and he's wearing another expensive suit, a grey shirt and black tie. He looks good. "Pull your own little B and E?"
He's smirking at her. It feels good to see him like this, less angry and kind of flirting with her. It makes her feel like a teenager instead of just looking like one.
"Tit for tat." He raises his brow and she rolls her eyes. "Mature, Tyler."
He laughs and lets his jacket slide down his arms, drapes it carelessly over the back of the couch. "How'd you get in?"
"I have ways."
"Yeah," he laughs. "I bet."
She smiles and rolls her eyes again. "Your upstairs balcony was open." He just nods like he should have known. "Could you sense me?" she asks quietly. She doesn't know why she wants to know the answer so badly.
He nods a little. "Yeah." She bites her lip and he pushes his hand into his pocket. "You're different than you used to be."
"Different?" she almost squeaks.
He shrugs his shoulder, loosens his tie with his free hand. "Not as sweet."
She narrows her eyes and her jaw drops. "Thanks a lot."
"True," he says matter-of-factly, tilting his head. She doesn't think he'll ever stop being like this with her, honest to the point of insulting. "I can hear your heartbeat."
She looks at him doubtfully. She can count on two hands the number of times she's even felt her own heartbeat since she turned. Most of them happened in this town. "Really?"
He nods again. "It's slow; thready. Faster when you've just fed." Okay, she's impressed. He's not just an unsure teenager anymore, getting to know his body in its new form. He's a man, most of the time, and he knows how to use his differences to his advantage. "You look surprised."
She shakes her head, forces a smile. "No," she insists. She takes a breath and meets his eyes. "I just think maybe you always knew me a little better than you wanted to admit."
"'Cause of what I just said?" he says, like he doesn't believe it.
"No, because...because." He actually sighs like he believes her, understands what she's saying, and there are parts of her - a lot of them - that wish she could have stayed, or that he could have come with she and Damon. Obviously it never would happened that way. Damon wanted to kill him and would have done it if they hadn't left. "Tyler?"
"Yeah?" he says quietly. She gets scared to say what she wants to say, bites her lip and tries not to be overwhelmed. He's just looking at her, watching her, and she knows he can hear her heart beating a little faster. She's very aware of it right now. "I missed you," he blurts out. She looks at him, probably too hopefully, but she doesn't care. "Whatever. it's true."
She nods. She doesn't think she has to admit she's missed him, too. They were close for a while, not long enough, and part of her wishes they'd just run away and left everything behind, all the drama. Someone would have found her yes, but she would have had longer and been able to act like something closer to a normal teenager.
She wonders how he sees her now, whether he sees the 18 year old or the 25 year old. She'd love it if he could just not see age at all, not see her skin or her body.
Actually, she'd be okay with him seeing her body.
But she needs to know something. Badly.
"Did you ever want to kill me?" she asks out of nowhere. She's looking at him so she'll be able to tell if he's lying or not.
"Yes," he answers. She feels like she might cry. She supposes she should be able to admire his honesty, but she's a little busy feeling heartbroken. "A couple times."
"Oh."
"Come on, Caroline." She glances at him and he scoffs and shakes his head like he's annoyed with himself. "I never would have been able to."
"Why not?" she practically whispers. He rolls his eyes.
"You know why," he almost yells. "You could have bitten me, too, and you never did."
This is stupid. They're dancing around each other like they did years ago, and she's sick of pretending they don't know what's under the surface.
Ever since the night that girl died, they've been connected. Maybe before that, too. That connection isn't going to go away, and she honestly doesn't know if she wants it to, even if things would never work and she's forced to live knowing that.
"Every day, I have to convince myself not to hurt someone," she tells him. He moves closer and she stands in front of him. "I never had to convince myself with you."
He looks like he doesn't know what to say to that, and she doesn't need him to say anything. What she needs, just for a little while, is to feel normal. What she needs is to act like kissing this man is the most vital thing for her to do today, and that sleeping with him wouldn't be a mistake or a lapse in judgement.
"Wanna know a secret?" he asks. He's smirking a little, which she finds odd (sexy, too) since this was what made him leave the last conversation they had. She just watches his eyes. "I've wanted..." He laughs a little and shakes his head, slips his hand into her hair. "Since we were fucking 17, Caroline." She stands there with her hands on his waist and waits for him to do something. What he does is grin at her and say, "Your heart's racing."
Now is not the time for teasing. They've waited long enough.
"Shut up and kiss me, Tyler."
His room is on the other side of the house, and she doesn't think they're going to make it.
He kisses her for the first time in years and she's moaning into his mouth and thankful that he's willing to hold her up when her knees go weak. It's not like she hasn't kissed anyone since him, but this is completely different. This is years of pent-up sexual frustration she didn't even know she had pouring into one kiss, and him nipping at her lip. It startles her for a second, then returns the favour and they end up laughing. His hands dig into her hips and she starts pushing him towards the hall. He doesn't seem to want to go, but she doesn't want to do this in his living room.
"Caroline, here's good," he tells her as his lips skate down her jaw line.
"No." She shakes her head, runs a hand through his hair. "I need you on a bed."
He doesn't ask why, which is good because she doesn't have an answer.
Maybe it's because all (okay, just most) of her best fantasies about him included a bed and dark sheets.
He pulls away from her completely, like it's a punishment for making him wait the two minutes it'll take them to get to his bedroom, and starts walking away from her. For a second she wonders if it makes her feel cheap to just be following, but then he tells her to hurry up so he can finally get her naked. There's no way he doesn't want this as badly as she does.
She pulls her own shirt over her head when they're in his bedroom, and he kisses her hard as he tugs her jeans and panties down over her hips. She didn't expect him to be slow and sweet with this. She's never expected that. And to be honest, having him at all is kind of amazing and she'll take whatever he'll give her. It's still not fair that he's fully dressed and she's wearing just a bra and his eyes are on the apex of her thighs even as he reaches for the clasp at her back. She puts a palm on his chest and pushes just hard enough to make him stop.
"Not until you lose something," she says seriously. She pops open one of the buttons of his shirt and he laughs as he undoes the rest.
He lets his shirt slide off his shoulders, drops it onto the floor with her things. "Kind of a fucked up rule, Care."
She shrugs her shoulder, eyes fixed on the bruises on his side. She'd feel worse about it if he seemed concerned with it. Plus, he deserved it at the time. She runs her fingertips gently over the spot, then kisses down his body and takes over undoing his belt, and as she swipes her tongue over those bruises, he moans and sinks his hand into her hair.
She's really not shocked when he pushes her lower. She still looks up at him and raises her brow, licks her lips and pulls down his pants.
She's stopped feeling like a slut. Damon puts it into perspective for her. "You're a sexy little thing and you're going to live forever. You can't focus on numbers."
Tyler isn't a number anyway.
He's just...Tyler.
His shin bumps her knee right before she's poised to take him in her mouth, and she ends up on her ass, giggling like a little girl with her knees parted and her hand over her mouth. She looks up at him and he's just smiling, shaking his head at her. He reaches his hand down and pulls her up, then she's on her back a second later, still giggling, even though nothing's really funny when he's laying on top of her and pulling her bra down her arms and dropping it over the side of the bed.
"You're so fucking cute," he tells her. He kisses her, then brushes their noses together, runs a hand over her nipple. "How the hell have you always been so cute?"
"Biased," she says dismissively. He shakes his head and cups her breast. Her legs fall open and they make matching noises at the feel of him between her thighs. "Tyler."
"Foreplay?" he asks, and apparently he can tell she really doesn't want to mess around anymore right now.
"No," she answers quickly, rolling her hips. "No, just...Just please..." She knows he won't expect the word to leave her pretty little mouth, but she doesn't care. "Fuck me."
He hesitates for more than half a second and she deems that too long. She pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips, holds his arms down and watches his chest rise and fall. She can tell he's not used to women being this way with him, but she doesn't care. And honestly, he's not in any position to complain. He tries to roll her beneath him again, but she's still stronger than him and raises a brow as if to ask if he really wants to play this game. She rolls her hips and he twitches between her legs. She takes one hand off his arm and reaches between them, strokes him a couple times. His skin is hot to the touch, and he just sets his hand on her thigh and kneads her skin.
When she sinks down onto him, she needs both hands to brace herself against his chest, and her fingertips dig into his skin. She's always got to be careful not to make anyone bleed, and god, if she bit Tyler...
Well, Tyler would bite back.
... ... ...
She ends up on her back after one of the most intense orgasms of her life, and she almost laughs at the way he's just idly running the tips of his fingers over parts of her body. It starts with her knees, which he learned quickly (while she was riding him) are an erogenous zone. He tickles her (not meaning to at first) until she's squirming and her hair is sticking to her sweaty forehead. Then he moves to her hips and upward, fingers drumming over her ribcage as they talk about absolutely nothing at all. He plucks at her nipples and says something lewd about her breasts. She arches against his lips when he kisses her chest. His hand dips between her legs and she can safely assume she's way more wet than he expected to find her, and she tenses when his teeth nip at her breasts.
"Tyler," she whimpers, hips rolling against his hand. He meets her eyes and drags his teeth across her nipple, licks a stripe down her stomach and bite at her hip bone. She laughs, "Tyler," and she can't decide whether she's about to freak out or start begging him.
"What?" His teeth tug at the taut skin of her upper thigh.
"Be careful," she whispers, fighting back a moan. He arches his brow, bites her where her femoral artery runs through her leg. "Stop. You're making me really nervous."
He props himself up on his hands, which means his lips aren't close enough to her body anymore. "Caroline, you know how this works."
She swallows and nods her head. "I know," she answers quickly. "I just get freaked out with...biting."
He laughs hard and she knocks one of his arms with her leg so he falls, and then he rests his face against the curve of her hip and presses his lips to her skin before looking up at her. "You're a vampire."
She rolls her eyes. "Exactly." He laughs again and shakes his head. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're making fun of me," she pouts. He chuckles against her skin and she pushes at his head a little. He takes the hint she didn't really intend to make and licks up the crease of her thigh.
"I'm sorry. Okay? Sorry," he promises.
Then he drags his teeth down her skin and bites at her clit, and she feels his laugh through her whole body when she sucks in a breath.
... ... ...
His property is wooded, which works out well for her. (Part of her misses her freezer in London being well-stocked; no hunting involved.)
She's rinsed her mouth and is back in bed before he even notices her gone. His fingertips dig into her hip when she leans into him, and she pretends to be asleep when he starts to kiss along her shoulder.
... ... ...
Damon calls her in the morning just as she's straddling Tyler's hips again. Tyler groans, either from the interruption or the fact that she's pressing down on him again. She reaches for her phone (Tyler's hands securely on her hips to make sure she doesn't get too far; as if she'd try right now) and hits the ignore button. She knows it'll piss Damon off, but frankly, she doesn't give a shit.
"Important?" he laughs, rolling her beneath him.
"Not as important as you making me come again," she says, teeth tugging his ear. She can hear the blood coursing through his veins, and god, something like this seven years ago would have had her going crazy.
"Jesus, you're hot," he murmurs against her neck as she spreads her legs.
"12 hours ago you called me cute."
"Both," he says, pushing into her slowly. "Fuck, you're both."
She moans into his ear and decides one of her favourite things about sex with him (one of her favourite things about him in general) is his voice.
"Talk to me," she pleads.
And not many people have ever been able to say no to her.
... ... ...
She wakes up again and he's getting dressed, pulling a clean button shirt his shoulders and buttoning it before tucking it into his black pants. She doesn't know where he's going, but he shouldn't be going anywhere. He didn't wake her up to tell her, and she doesn't like that.
She's never the one that gets left alone in a bed, let's put it that way.
When he turns around and sees her looking, he takes a deep breath and grabs a tie.
"That tie is ugly," she states unapologetically. He gives her a look. "I wouldn't lie." He puts it back and grabs the one sitting next to it. "Where are you going?"
"Meeting."
"Tyler." She sits up, holding the sheets to herself. They just spent almost a day and a half having sex and sometimes talking, and he's being short with her and not explaining anything. "Can you please not treat me like one of the women you sleep with and forget about?"
He gives her a look like she's the one pissing him off and not the other way around. "That's not what I'm doing," he tells her. She raises her brow and he laughs bitterly, shakes his head. "When's your flight, Caroline?"
She glares and she knows her mouth is open. "That's shitty. I don't live here. I can't just..." She stops talking because she can tell he's not going to listen to what she says anyway. She stands up, yanking the sheet off the bed to keep herself covered. "You know what? Whatever. Go to your meeting, Tyler. I'll let myself out."
"Don't be like that." He shakes his head and sighs. He reaches for her, but she jerks her arm away. She's forgotten who she's dealing with for a second, though, and he grabs her quickly anyway. "Sorry."
"You know, you've always made a lot of apologies, Tyler. Maybe you should just start thinking before you do things."
"If I thought before I did anything you wouldn't be here right now."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asks. She pulls her arm away again and uses it to hold the sheet across her chest.
His phone rings and he grabs it. She knows he probably wasn't going to answer her anyway. She hears him talking to someone about a property outside of town, and she can't find her panties. God, she hates this. She hasn't felt this insecure since she was a teenager, and she hates him for making her feel it right now. She wishes she'd taken Damon's advice and either not come here at all or left as soon as her mother was buried.
Where are her panties?
Whatever. She pulls on her jeans and her top, grabs her phone from the bedside table and hears him say, "Just a sec," to whoever he's talking to on the phone. She's already got her purse off the table, and she's out the door faster than he can even come down the stairs.
The walk of shame still doesn't feel good, even if you're moving fast enough that no one sees you doing it.
... ... ...
"You did it, didn't you?"
"Shut up, Damon," she snaps. "I didn't ask for your permission, and I don't need it."
"How are you feeling right now, Princess?" he asks, laughing humourlessly. "God, you act like I don't know anything."
"And you act like you're my goddamned father, and guess what? Your opinion means about as much to me as his does!" she yells. "Fuck!"
She hangs up the phone and throws it onto the bed, runs her hands through her hair and closes her eyes tight. Then she growls and stomps over, grabs her phone and dials him back. He answers on the first ring, sounds infuriatingly calm, and asks, "Done deflecting, sweetheart?"
"I'm so pissed off right now."
"Go kill something. You'll feel better."
"You really aren't helping." He laughs and she rolls her eyes. "Why are men such spectacular assholes?"
"One of life's little riddles," he sighs. He's being so patronizing, and it doesn't bother her as much as it used to. "Just cowgirl up and get over it."
She giggles. "Cowgirl up?"
"What can I say? I'm jealous of you being stateside."
"No one's keeping you away, Damon." She says it a little quieter than she has to. She knows how he feels about coming here. He's been in Europe since they day they arrived there.
"Has anything changed?" he asks. She doesn't know if he wants a serious answer or not, but she gives him one.
"Not at all."
... ... ...
It's dark and she's reading an old hardcover she found in Damon's study. He actually has a lot of books, really old ones with yellow pages and his name in pencil in the front cover of a lot of them. She knows he likes Ayn Rand, but she doesn't really get why. This book is huge and kind of boring. But she's making an effort. Mostly because there's no wi-fi and she doesn't have anything else to do. She's got a few candles burning on the table next to the bed, so the shadows that fall across Tyler's face when he walks into the room really don't help anything at all.
He doesn't say anything. He just slips his shoes off and steps out of his pants, unbuttons his shirt and climbs into bed next to her. She knows she shouldn't let him, but it's very hard not to when he's looking like that and not acting like a self-centered asshole.
He twirls a lock of her hair around his finger as she reads. "Hear me come in?"
She supposes she can admit it, since if she hadn't heard him she'd be screaming about the intruder right now. So she nods and turns the page. She keeps reading and he keeps playing with her hair. She doesn't mind. Actually, she loves it when men play with her hair, and she really does have good hair, so they do it often. When he leans over and kisses her shoulder right next to the strap of her tank top, she loses her spot on the page and has to find it again. It'd be easier if the print wasn't so small. What's with that?
"Have you ever read this?" she asks after a few minutes. He shakes his head. "Oh. I was hoping you could just tell me what happens."
He laughs a little. "Kind of defeats the purpose of reading."
She shrugs. "All the best books are made into movies anyway," she says. He chuckles again and catches her off guard as she looks at him, presses his lips to hers.
"Don't be mad at me."
She sighs and sinks down into the bed a little more. She hasn't been mad at him in years. Maybe ever. Well, no, that's not true. There were times she was mad at him, but most of them were on the playground or in high school before either of them became what they are now.
"I'm not mad," she admits. "I just don't like feeling..."
"You don't like feeling anything?" he suggests. He sounds like he's speaking from experience, and she just looks up at him. He's kind of hovering over her, fingers playing with her hair on the pillow. "I bought a farm."
She laughs, looks at him with wide, confused eyes. "What?"
"About an hour north of here."
"Tyler," she laughs, shaking her head, "what are you going to do with a farm?"
"Dunno." He lays down next to her, moves his hand over her stomach atop the sheets. "It's really big and the house is this big, old, piece of crap." She gives him a look. This isn't sounding like a great investment. "I might fix it up or something."
"You mean pay to have someone fix it up," she says. As hot as the image is, she can't picture him with a toolbelt on, hammering up drywall or something.
"No," he says. He sounds a couple seconds away from being offended. "I always wanted to do that."
She smiles. It's nice, laying here, talking with him like she's not leaving and they didn't fight just this morning. They're acting like a nice, normal couple they'll never be, and there's a pang in her chest when she reminds herself not to get too comfortable.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asks quietly, running her fingertip along a wrinkle in the sheet covering them.
"Who else am I gonna tell?"
She looks at him and he won't meet her eyes. She knows he'd never say it, but he really has no one here. All his friends are gone and his family is dead. Any werewolves he ever knew are dead, and she hasn't asked him if he's ever met anymore. (Kind of a touchy subject, considering.) He's alone in this stupid little town, and she doesn't think he wants her to leave. That's the whole problem.
She's always known they'd be kind of doomed or tragic, but if it's really just geography and one night every month or so standing in their way...
She's making it sound like she's in love with him or something, which she's not. She just likes him. A lot. More than she's liked anyone since she liked him the first time.
"I was kind of a bitch this morning," she admits. It stings a little to have to do it, and maybe they were both wrong, but she's not too proud to apologize.
Laughter, however, is not what she usually accepts as a response to something like this.
"I'm not laughing," he says. She narrows her eyes. He very clearly is. She lets out a huff and rolls onto her side so her back is to him, and it takes a good forty seconds for him to calm down enough to explain himself. "We both sucked this morning."
"You were just going to leave."
He doesn't say anything about her staying, just nods and says, "Yeah."
"I don't know what the hell we're thinking," she says, looking up at him. His knee slides over her legs and he straddles her thighs, pushes her shirt up and finds she's wearing nothing underneath but a pair of panties.
"Damn," he murmurs, smiling a little as he shakes his head. "I'm thinking you're way too hot to not fuck again."
She should be offended, but she ends up giggling instead and letting him tug her panties down her legs. She's not insane enough to think he wouldn't persist until she said yes. Hell, she's not insane enough to say no in the first place or pretend she doesn't want whatever he's going to give her.
He stops abruptly right before his tongue is between her legs, and she whines out his name impatiently. "This is Damon's bed," he points out.
"So?" She doesn't know why he's saying it or why he looks so smug.
He just grins and gives a slow lick up her center, and she says his name again as her hands grip the sheets.
It's funny how he can convince her this is an incredible idea and not a terrible one all in the span of about 30 seconds and a few amazing kisses.
... ... ...
She books a flight from her phone and only hesitates a few seconds before she hits 'confirm'.
She can't keep pretending this is all normal and she can stay, no matter how easy it is to think maybe she could. She's still a vampire and she's still '17'. No one in this town will understand that. Plus, there have been no vampire-related problems since she and Damon left (the couple times she talked to her mom, it was one of her favourite topics) and it'll look really funny if she comes back and hasn't aged a day and then suddenly things start happening. After all, she can generally control it, but sometimes she slips up; sometimes they all do.
She's sitting in the kitchen nursing a glass of wine from a 1948 vintage (Damon will probably be pissed, but she doesn't care; finders keepers) and Tyler walks in wearing just his pants, looks at her phone in her hand and somehow just knows.
"When's your flight?" He pours himself a glass and stands across from her.
"Tomorrow." He nods, takes a breath and lets it out slowly. "I have to."
"I know."
"I risked too much even coming here. I'm really lucky no one's seen me."
"I know, Caroline," he says seriously. She thinks he doesn't want to hear her explain it anymore or maybe even talk about it at all. "I don't hate you being in Mystic Falls."
She giggles a little and raises her brow. "I hope not, considering."
He laughs, shakes his head and walks over so he's standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. "You're kind of an easy girl to miss, you know that?"
She bites her lip hard and thinks of tipping her head back to look at him, but decides against it. "No one's ever told me that," she admits. He kisses the crown of her head and just nods, leans his elbows on her shoulders and clasps his hands in front of her. "You'd like London."
He lets out a breathy laugh. She brings her hands up to cover his, moves her thumb slowly over the back of his hand. "Damon would find me," he says.
It's the truth and she knows it. And no matter how much she cares about Tyler and tries to talk Damon out of it, she knows he'd never listen, not about this.
"Paris?" she suggests, turning her had a little.
She feels the rumble of his laughter through her entire body, smiles and tries not to giggle at her own lame joke. "Cute, Caroline." She shrugs her shoulder, takes a sip of her wine. "I guess we're kind of screwed."
"Don't say that," she pleads. "That's not...We'll figure something out."
He kisses her cheek and she spins around on the stool so she's facing him. His arms go to either side of her, hands braced on the counter and boxing her in. "Paris?" he asks with a smirk.
"I really love it there." God, she loves seeing him smile. He's beautiful. He kisses her and undoes one of the buttons of the shirt she's wearing. "I'm taking this, by the way."
"Fine with me," he says, eyeing her appreciatively. "Just don't wear it for someone else."
It's about as much of a commitment as either of them can ask for or expect, so she kisses him before she can think too much about it and ends up in tears or something stupid like that. If things were different - if everything were different - she'd be falling in love with him. She's not going to tell him that or even do anything close to imply it. But then when they're back in bed and he's treating her so delicately, taking it so slowly, she's thinking maybe he already knows and is going through a little bit of the same thing.
... ... ...
She doesn't let him take her to the airport. It'd be too much and she hates that whole goodbye thing. She tosses her bag into the passenger seat of her rental car and he's leaning against his car when she turns around. She glances quickly at the Salvatore house before looking at Tyler again.
"I guess I'll see you," he says.
"You will," she tells him, brow furrowed. Unless he's breaking her end of the deal, she's not breaking hers. "I'll have to see your farm when you finish it."
He laughs and grabs her, pulls her towards him hard so their bodies press together. "It'll be quiet. Private. No one'll see you."
There's a split second when she wonders if he bought it for that reason, but she's not self-centered enough to believe it or bold enough to ask.
"Call me."
"Yeah."
She looks at him and ends up laughing after a moment, glancing away and shaking her head. "Goodbyes really suck."
"Must have been why I didn't get one last time," he says, brow raised.
She glares. "Tyler."
"Whatever. I know." He rolls his eyes. "Get out of here."
He pats her on the ass and pushes her away, but he's crazy if he thinks she's not going to kiss him before she goes anywhere. She runs her hands through his hair, leans into him and presses her lips to his. His hands find her waist, grip her tightly, and he moans from the back of her throat when she pushes her tongue past his lips.
He groans when she pulls away, rests his forehead against hers. "You suck."
She laughs hard as she walks away, raises her brow at him and giggles when the realization of what he's just said spreads across his face.
"Paris!" she yells at him through her open car window.
He nods and pulls his keys from his pockets. She watches him watching her in her rearview as she drives away, and he doesn't get into his car until she's nearly at the end of the lane.
... ... ...
The first thing Damon asks her when she gets to their apartment is whether or not she has any 'love bites'. Then he hands her a blood bag and says she must be hungry from her trip, laughs at the eager way she drinks, and when she's finished, she pushes the empty bag against his chest, smiles sweetly and says, "Tyler and I had sex in your bed."
He doesn't seem impressed, tells her how wrong and stupid she is. But then he tells her she actually looks happy, says the sex must have been decent and she plays along and pretends it was just that, sex and nothing more.
They both know she's faking it, but he lets her and she loves him a little bit for that.
... ... ...
Tyler calls her for the first time about two weeks after she's back in London. They've been texting and she has no complaints about that really. Or at least she didn't until she hears his voice and wonders why she hasn't gotten to hear this every day.
"What are you up to?" he asks after they make small talk. She had a photo shoot today and he knew that, so he's asked about it.
"Nothing." Really. Nothing. She's in her apartment sipping from a glass of ginger ale. It's dark out and Damon isn't home, which is not a huge surprise.
"You wearing my shirt?" Tyler's voice has dropped a little and she smiles and bites her bottom lip, shakes her head. She knows what he's trying to do right now.
"No," she answers honestly. "I don't live in it."
"Whatever." There's a pause and he sighs. "I kinda wish you were."
"Very persistent, Tyler," she giggles. She looks out the window. It's almost a full moon.
"You could give me something to go on, here," he tells her. He's laughing a little, like he's half joking but not really joking at all.
"The first time we talk and all you want is phone sex," she teases, sinking back onto her mattress.
"Easier than sexting," he mumbles. She laughs loudly and he joins her. "You kinda need two hands for that."
"I should not encourage this," she says, shaking her head.
He sounds cocky when he says, "You're going to, aren't you?"
She'd be lying if she said she could resist that voice. Or the man in general.
"You bring out the worst in me," she jokes. She should probably tell him she's unbuttoning her jeans, but he's laughing so hard she can't say it.
"We both know that's not true."
"Tyler?"
He sighs, like he loves the way she says his name or something. "Yeah?"
She kicks her jeans off and pulls her shirt over her head. "I'm practically naked. Do you really want to go there right now?"
He groans a little. "You know what I want to do right now."
She smiles, sets her hand below her belly button. "Tell me."
He does. It's not nearly as good as the real thing, but she doesn't really have any complaints. Plus, Tyler Lockwood has a dirty mouth and apparently, a dirty mind, and she's learned she really likes that about him.
"Hey," he says when her eyes are blinking slowly and her breathing is returning to normal. "I have some time next month."
She smiles sleepily and holds the phone a little closer. "Paris?" she asks quietly.
"Anywhere, really."