Damon smiled when he heard the proof that he was already doing well. He could feel Elena's small foot between his raised shoulderblades and pressed up against it a little, even as he let the tip of his tongue explore the bundle of nerves that was her clit. He varied between tracing little circles around the wet little nub and lapping at it, pausing to close his lips around it and give a soft suck every few minutes. He'd seen videos on the internet where men did all sorts of stupid things with their tongues when they were going down on a girl; Damon knew the simple truth - do too much and the sensation is lost. Slow and sensual and rhythmic was best, with little injections of change every now and then for that little spasm of ecstasy. He'd been perfecting his technique for over a century, although there was usually more blood involved, and it felt as though it had all been adding up just so he was able to show off to Elena - his Elena - at this moment. He might not be able to show his emotions in the same way as his brother but he'd be damned if he wasn't better in bed by a country mile. That was just how he was; he showed how he felt through his actions, not his words. And right now, the way he was lapping at her tender flesh hungrily perfectly summed up how he felt - like the cat who'd got the cream.