A/N: For Skysamuelle. Thanks for the prompt. Hope it meets your expectations.
Bonnie lay lengthwise across the couch, her slumbering features lit by the glow of the tv. She and Damon were partway through a viewing of a Buffy marathon being shown on this Halloween night.
Gasping, Bonnie was startled awake by Damon's all too clever fingers. Smiling, he whispered, "Commercial break is over, witch."
"Mmm…I never said you could do this!" she countered, grinding her hips shamelessly against his hand.
In a high-pitched, sing-song voice, he mimicked, "'Damon, whatever you need to do, keep me awake through Becoming parts 1 and 2'. I'm merely acquiescing to your request." He changed his tone to that of an annoying professorial one. "Now then, back to our little debate." Tweaking her clit one last time, he removed his fingers, sliding them slowly down her thighs, bringing them to his mouth, licking off her essence.
Briefly stunned, she shook her head. Bonnie pushed her skirt down and rearranged her legs which were draped across Damon's lap. "Right. So, Angelus versus Spike. Angelus is evil run amok, but I think Spike is the more layered villain."
Damon eyed her in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Angelus had some of the best kills in this series. Plus…"
Simultaneously, they said, "Leather pants."
Damon said, "Angelus was definitely the more stylish and ruthless killer. He did at least have an agenda."
"So did Spike. He was perfectly happy with the world as it stood. Had Angelus been successful in releasing Acathla, I think they would've depopulated humanity in a short time. Killing off your food supply…not smart," she rolled her eyes.
Damon duplicated her eye roll. "Come on! Spike was a subpar baddie. Serial monogamy was the fuel for his actions. He was pussy-whipped."
"Angelus needed to be restrained. Like a rabid dog, he had no qualms about killing anyone in his path. That's why the gypsy curse. He needed a metaphysical muzzle in order to continue to walk the earth."
Bonnie continued, "Spike, yeah he may have been whipped but at least he'd listen to your story, have a drink with you, or fight for the good of the world. Plus, he's offed two slayers. Top that," She smiled.
Quirking a brow, "Forgot about the slayers. But I still say he was whipped."
She muttered under her breath, "We hate most in others, what we see in ourselves…"
Damon growled, parted her legs and situated himself between them. Capturing her coppery-green gaze, he said quietly, "Low blow, Bonnie. Angelus isn't burdened conscience. Besides, I thought you liked a bit of monster in your man," Damon smiled slyly, moving the damp panel of her panties aside again, and worked his fingers inside her and his thumb over her sensitive nub of flesh.
Bonnie sighed, returning his determined gaze. "I do," she moaned. "But I'd also prefer to survive the encounter." She turned her head towards the television, watching the show, moving her hips to match Damon's fingers.
"Bonnie?" Damon said.
She groaned. "Mm?"
He whispered fiercely into her ear, "The show's right here…on top of you. Inside of you."
As she turned her head back towards him, he covered her mouth with his own, fully intending to make her 'die' a few times before the conclusion of the marathon.
