[ It's happening, and she's not fighting it. It doesn't even... occur to fight it, or make an effort, even if it's wrong. One moment there's concern and sickened churning in her gut, and the next everything is molten and mixing and she can only be thankful they are so apart from everyone else.
Her hands stay near his jaw, slide to his shoulders; all she can hear is the music (it seems so distant and yet the only - ) and the labor of her breath. The thing is -- she really, really likes it. Flirting with the possibility. Doing anything just a little bit twisted and wrong. And Damon. With Damon.
She makes a sound -- a soft exhale, a moan. Tears his mouth from her neck to cover it hungrily and demandingly with her own, simply because she can't take what he's doing to her anymore. ]