* I own nothing but the words strung together. The characters are not mine.*

There will be at least 5 of these all together but I am not sure yet if they will all be from Damon's pov. Just a few dabbles with what ever word(s) comes to mind. If you have a word you would like pm me and I'll do my best.

*LITTLE*

So maybe he misses the little witch. Or the way she used to be. And maybe he misses that nasty little gouge of pain she shot directly into his brain to inspire his better nature or let him know he went a little out of line.

Maybe (if he was honest with himself) he missed the bantering they would share. Life is boring when everyone you know rolls over and takes it. Where is the fire and spark of well placed wit? Where is the euphoria from a victory hard earned? It can be nice when everything is given to you hand over fist but where was the exciting thrust and parry of intellect? He can admit that sometimes she could prick him a little with her words. Her verbal stabbing caused his thoughts to bleed, to give in to the press of a conscience, caused him to question himself… Who could do such a thing to THE Damon Salvatore? So maybe he did care about exWitchy

a little.

*To Sup*

The taste. That gushing smooth coppery ambrosia had flood his mouth once upon a time and it taunts him in the latest moments of the night. It teases him at random inopportune moments like when he should be thinking of her, THE HER, Elena. If thoughts are left unguarded he stares at Bonnie, stares at her with such intensity that should anyone one catch him – a wolf looking at 'Little Red' would be peering out behind blue eyes.

Perhaps its necessity for more than just a taste, some miniscule sip, something more than to angrily lash out enraged with a need to drain not to savor. One more taste will cure him, he's sure.

He hasn't forgotten that tiny nip from a vial that he had to share with others. He HATES sharing. It's not the same, it doesn't count…but it was good none the less. No, it was wondrous. He had to stop himself from upending the bottle - to rush her essence down his throat like a greedy starved child.

No no, his next intake of Bonnie will be directly from the source. He'll tap her like an aged barrel and relish her like a rich whisky. Then he can finally push the taste out of his mind and away from his dark desires.