A/N: Hello everyone! I have yet another ONE-SHOT. This is the sequel to Cat & Mouse. I decided not to make that multi-chaptered simply because I have too many ongoing stories already in progress, and I didn't want to commit and not be able to update regularly. So if you haven't read Cat & Mouse you may want to read that first, its not a necessity, but to kind of know what's going on in Soul Bound it'll make it easier. Hopefully, lol. And if you know my writing style, things gets a little x-rated, and I'm telling this mostly from Damon's POV. You've been warned.

Just to summarize: This story isn't following the canon of S4 precisely. Silas isn't up impersonating Shane and manipulating Bonnie. The Gang was able to get the cure, now it's just up to individual vamps to decide if they want to take it or not. Bonnie was turned at the height of using Expression uninhibitedly. She's taken a liking to drinking Damon's blood and that's basically the basis for this story.

Thank you in advance to everyone for giving this a shot! Updates to my other stories will be following shortly, not sure when, just shortly. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

"A great numb feeling washing over me as I let go of the past and look forward to the future. Pretend to be a vampire. I don't really need to pretend, because it's who I am, an emotional vampire. I've just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people's real emotions. Search for this night's prey. Who will it be?—Sean Bateman, The Rules of Attraction

Who will it be indeed was the question that awakened Damon Salvatore from his nightly slumber. His body moved across the soft sheets—rustling them—announcing to the empty walls of his mansion that the master of this casa was up and ready to be doted on. Only there were no servants and this wasn't a Disney movie where everything inanimate was enchanted and could dance like Usher.

His disillusionment lasted for less than a second as his feathered eyelashes separated and his lids opened and he was welcomed to the sight of…

Fog. Grayish-white fog.

The first time it happened, Damon thought the house was on fire, and he expected her to burst through the flames like Akasha did in Queen of the Damned, drain him, and leave his corpse to feed the flames. Yet he noticed the absence of the smell of smoke, ash, and charred wood and came to the quick conclusion that his bedroom was simply covered in fog.

That event had taken place just the day after he drunk from the Fount of Bonnie, and it was now seventeen days later. Not that he was counting or anything.

The fog had returned. A trick of the "Dark Gift" that most vampires on a strict human blood diet could create, and not something he purposely did; not since coming upon Elena in the cemetery while writing in her journal and dreading her wasted youth. It was thicker this time—the fog, and swirled and loomed completely blanketing the floor so substantially he couldn't see his expensive Persian rug.

Damon was tempted to call out her name, but he didn't want to appear thirsty and he was that. Not just for blood or feminine nectar. He was thirsty for her presence; something she had gotten increasingly good at in concealing

He hated that.

Now resting on his back the bed sheet barely covered him. Damon looked down his body and could see the tip of his dick, the opening facing him like the barrel of a gun. He was hard. Morning wood didn't become a thing of the past simply because he was undead. It was something that stayed with him and something he took care of within seconds of awakening. Jacking off while vampire was, more often than not, less satisfying because he was built for speed, and had to concentrate to move his hand up and down his shaft leisurely to mimic being inside a woman—a human woman.

A human wasn't what his body was craving this morning. Yet he wouldn't mind. They were always warm. Always slippery and wet at just the right temperature. Their inner muscles were even balmier when alcohol was present in their systems, but having dabbled with vampire and human females, Damon's preference were humans.

Being with a vampire could sometimes feel like he was fucking himself—if that made sense. They were always too hard, too strong, too damn non-breakable, and too cold. Friction caused heat. That's what science taught him. But two undead things humping only gave birth to tepid warmth, not heat.

Elena. She was usually the girl to star in his fantasies when his palm began to itch, and his balls swelled and tightened, and the blood vessels in his dick began to relax. Stimulation. She had been what he used more times than he could count as stimulation to knock this monkey off his back.

He thought of her and nothing happened. He was hard still—yes but it wasn't because of her. He could really blame it on the chill to his room.

I'm cold. Can you light a fire?

Ugh, he didn't want to think about her, but his body seemed to want to. His dick lifted clear off his body pointing towards the ceiling waiting for a mouth or pussy that wasn't there.

Damon snorted sardonically. Nope he wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to give in and whack himself off a couple hundred times as he thought of the taste of her blood rushing down his esophagus, or the searing heat that nearly scorched the skin right off his fingers as he played in her cake.

She was so soft, some wimpy part of him lamented. Softer than any vampire had a right to be. Days after Elena transitioned her skin became of the same muster as his. It did not translate into him losing his attraction to Elena or her losing her appeal. It's just that he had waited so long to touch her that a part of him he didn't even realize was there until after she died mourned the loss of her humanness.

But not her. Only being a few months into the vampire lifestyle and her skin still felt as soft as the day she were born. Damon wouldn't exactly call himself an expert because it wasn't like he spent a lot of time touching her, but when he did her skin had been pliant, bending to his will, and miraculously that hadn't changed. But the dark vampire had discovered not everything about her had remained the same.

Transitioning from human to vampire meant all your traits: the good, the bad, and the real ugly were heightened. Those affected underwent a metamorphosis that didn't always end with a positive result. And depending on a person's soul, their view of the world it determined in which favor the scales were tipped. Good versus evil. A victim or a sociopath in the making.

The fog stirred and began to take on the shape of a woman. Damon narrowed his eyes as if to help crystallize the vision, make it more visceral, more real. Yet it was nothing more than a pale reflection of the real thing.

Her.

His erection caught his attention again, the head turning a very rosy pink, the corded veins hiding just under his tough skin. Of its own volition his hand began to trail down the center of his chest, past his navel, over the small thatch of hair he kept neat and trim before wrapping around and gliding up his shaft.

His hand was too cold. The room wasn't the right temperature either and he was alone. His neck throbbed as blood rushed though the veins in his body. His nipples tightened into rigid peaks that were begging for some type of stimulation but all Damon had was himself—a very important life lesson was imbedded in this somewhere. He had his memories of conquests past that he could retrieve at will to augment the sanctity of this moment, but they simply weren't good enough. Whenever he tried to focus on a single one specifically red hair would become wavy chocolate locks, blue or brown eyes would become moss green, pale skin would transform to caramel with a golden luminescence.

Just go with it, he ordered impatiently, the fog agreeing as it began to ascend to the ceiling. He really should do something about that, but the fog reminded him of his vampire gifts. Reminded him that once upon a time he had been powerful, unique, and special. He used to be able to influence dreams, and crows to spy and do his bidding. Now he was no different from any other vampire on the street. He was fast. He was strong. He drank blood. But so did a million other vampires out there.

There was his compulsion but, Damon smirked, even that had proven to be finicky. He groaned because he didn't want to think about Caroline's dear old deceased dad, but Damon couldn't help but remember Bill Forbes telling him his compulsion reeked of laziness.

Damon was awesome, but his awesome had become basic.

Yet he noticed the change within himself after drinking from Bonnie. It was nothing over-the-top just subtle. At first. Colors became more vivid. He could hear for miles without having to try. Could smell everything so acutely that each time he inhaled his eyes watered.

Yet as her blood began to permeate his cells and tissues, that's where things got interesting. Damon actually had to concentrate when he handled delicate things like glass. After Bonnie left and he went downstairs to pour himself a drink he broke the glass and the canter making a grand mess everywhere. He warped the fireplace poker when he used it stir the logs, and ripped the driver side door clean off his car without meaning to. It took him a couple of hours to manage his newfound He-Man strength.

When he went to sleep that night and woke up the next morning, Stefan was standing in his bedroom like a lurker looking beyond irritated.

"What do you want?" Damon groaned.

"Stay the hell out of my head."

Damon blinked as an eyebrow shot up to his hairline. "I'm sorry but your head is the absolute last place I'd ever want to be."

"Yeah, well you could have fooled me. I'm not interested in knowing all positions of the Karma Sutra you and Elena tried; and I thought we had gotten past the point of being unnecessarily petty with each other."

Needless to say, Damon had been mad confused. He remembered, although vaguely, dreaming about Elena so it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Dream transference. Whoops, his bad.

His mental abilities had expanded like a business mogul devouring real estate properties.

Bonnie's blood had changed him, strengthened him, made him feel like a vampire again. A real one, a threat, no longer a liability. He had nine lives because how else could he explain all the near deaths, should-have-died experiences he managed to rise from mostly unscathed. There was luck, there was chance, and then there was fate. Two were circumstantial, the last one fixed.

He had been the reason why Bonnie was even dancing on the earth's crust to begin with, and now she was the reason he was here alone in his bed, hand playing around with his joy stick.

Like with most things his thoughts turned back to her blood. The taste of it, the smell of it, the weight of it as it gushed in his mouth. There was blood and then there was blood. Not the kind you painted the walls with or allowed to get wasted on an Italian silk shirt. The kind you savored reverently because it was so sweet, so lethal that you knew you could live for the rest of your immortality and never drink another splendid drop like that again. Damon had drunk the blood of witches in his heyday but never the blood a witch/vampire—a vitch. Nature and death. Ice and heat. Seas and oceans. Frozen and interchanging. That is what Bonnie's blood symbolized.

Damon swallowed as his hand moved up and down his shaft a little faster now. He wanted to feel her fangs in his jugular—well she never went for the jugular, always went for his carotid. He wanted to feel her tongue lap against his skin, wanted to hear the sound of her breath rushing through her nostrils as she drank her fill. He wanted to relive the moment of feeling her body intimately pressed against his. He wanted to touch her again and watch as she tried to fight off her body's natural response to him.

He knew he made her feel good. And that's probably why he hadn't seen her ass in days.

His back arched off the bed. His oceanic eyes were pressed tightly shut. Soft, throaty moans escaped as he saw himself pushing up into her liquid sheath and then retreating as his dick glistened with her juice.

Damon coated his bottom lip with a line of saliva wishing someone else was here to lick it off. One hand grabbed his man tit, his thumb flicking his erect nipple. Touching her had been branded as a forbidden act. He had been reprimanded to stand there like a good toy solider and allow her to take all the blood she wanted with no complaint. Well he could touch himself while thinking of her. Ha! That'll show her he was very much in control.

Only he wasn't.

She decided the pace of this race, and the length of it. Everyone else was spectators and didn't even know. Seabisquit he was not.

Slow, hard, fast, soft, light, quick, languid. That's how he stroked himself stirring up the coals in the fire, poking the volcano to erupt.

Damon's mouth fell open as he increased the pressure, hand going up his rod before squeezing right under the circumcised hood before sliding over the sensitized head, and heading back down. He knew himself well. Sometimes he liked to take his time, and other times all it took was a few strong pumps and he was done.

He envisioned a hand cupping his balls, long hair gliding over his chest, as a wet tongue cleaned his giblets.

The inferno was building and rising, rushing to the surface about to breakthrough. Tension built and with one hard tug and squeeze he detonated.

A hoarse groan filled the air as his hips continued to thrust into the palm of his hand that was now being coated with a silver-white fluid. His euphoria lasted for a while, longer than usual. His hand fell limply away and bounced against the mattress. Damon regulated his breath the best way he knew how, and then merely stared up at the ceiling.

He wasn't satisfied.

Down in the living room Damon drew his attention to the atrium as he heard two people coming downstairs. One of the voices belonged to his brother while the other caused a naughty albeit self-righteous smirk to split his face.

He watched as Stefan led Rebekah Mikaelson to the front door, the two of them trading cute little barbs with one another. Tilting his head to the side Damon wondered how this particular scene would play itself out. Would Stefan do the manly thing and kiss Rebekah as a way of saying thanks for screwing my brains out last night? Or would they merely smile at one another and go their separate ways?

"Staring is rude," the Original blonde glared at Damon before placing a quick kiss to Stefan's lips.

"You must not have gotten the memo, honey, but rude is my specialty," Damon winked. "No kiss for me?"

"I wouldn't want to make your hand jealous," Rebekah smiled before bringing her cornflower blue eyes back to Stefan who snorted abruptly.

"Yeah well at least my hand doesn't try to sneak out on me the morning after. Ain't that right, Stefan?"

Tension fell like a hammer. Stefan tightened his hand on Rebekah's arm while opening the door. "Ignore him," he said while Rebekah continued to dismember Damon mentally.

"It's hard to ignore a walking piece of vomit, Stefan."

Damon flashed a here and gone smile before turning his back on them. His intent wasn't to stay but to make a quick list and then go on patrol. He was going to be doing the hunting from here on out if he had anything to say about it.

The door closed and it was just he and his brother.

If there was one thing anyone knew about the Salvatore brothers is that it wasn't always Team Ring Power. Years of animosity, resentment, anger, betrayal, and pain lingered between them. They had always been able to brush it aside and fight together, but now lines had been drawn not in the sand but in concrete. In blood.

Their entire brotherhood seemed to be based on winning some type of prize. First it was their father's approval although Damon would admit to throwing in the towel on that one pretty early. Next it shifted to being the one granted immortality by Katherine Pierce and being with her forever. And finally the blows, barbs, and insults they traded had been based on who was better fit to protect and love Elena Gilbert.

Damon was tired of fighting. He was getting to the point where he wanted something of his own.

Making no outward sign that he knew Stefan was standing right beside him, Damon picked up a novel he started reading and casually flipped through a couple of pages. However, once Stefan's Medusa stare began to grate on his nerves he rolled his eyes.

"What?" he barked.

"Have you talked to Elena lately?"

Pivoting to face his younger brother, Damon placed a disgustingly sweet smile on his face. "Do you really wanna talk about her with me? Especially after I caught you escorting your escort out of the building?"

Stefan placed his hands on his hips before rocking on his feet. Admittedly he didn't want to talk to his brother about Elena either, and really it was just a force of habit by this point to bring her up in conversation whenever they were alone. No, what Stefan really wanted to know was if Damon knew who had been the vampire or werewolf, or whatever it was that had been attacking him. His older brother had been infuriatingly tight-lipped about that particular topic of discussion which told Stefan several things.

One) Damon knew the identity of the culprit and for whatever reason was protecting that person or handling it in his own special way. Two) he wasn't sure who was responsible but was close to finding out. Three) Damon had no interest in discovering why he had been targeted and was letting the whole fiasco drop.

"No, you're right, Damon. I don't want to talk about Elena with you, but I will say she won't stop talking about you or the cure and whatever it is you're hiding from her."

Shaking his head, Damon rested his butt against the ancient cherry wood desk and crossed his arms over his torso. He would need to feed soon because his color was mimicking Casper the Friendly Ghost white. That just wasn't acceptable.

"That's my MO. When is she going to figure it out? I'm always playing something close to the vest."

Stefan nodded. "Well, whatever it is I just hope you know what you're doing. I'm not in the mood to bargain my life away to save yours. Again. Just a fair warning."

The two brothers eyed one another.

"Noted," Damon said dryly and figured now was the time for him to go about implementing his own plan.

An hour later…

Sometimes finding what you were after was simple. Other times it became one wild goose chase. Not tonight. She was here, which kind of ruined the element of surprise, but Damon couldn't wait that long anyways.

Dumping his body in the padded booth across from her Damon smiled that cocksure grin that spelled trouble for those on the receiving end of it.

"If you had met me back in 1977 you would have loved me," he began without preamble. "Granted if you were alive back then I'm sure we would have hit off."

Viridian eyes swung in his direction and swept Damon from the chest up. "You think so?"

Damon nodded.

"And why is that?" Bonnie folded her arms on the table.

"My switch was flipped to its off position."

Miraculously a corner of her titian colored lips tilted in a smile. Bonnie inclined her head at a forty-five degree angle before straightening her posture. "And you think that a humane-free Damon Salvatore would appeal to me? Why? Because you think I've flipped my switch?"

No, Damon didn't think Bonnie shut off her humanity. She might have buried it under a thousand layers of indifference, but it still lingered around like smog because according to his calculations she hadn't killed anyone since turning. Her ledger wasn't desecrated with the souls of the drained. It was the one rule she had yet to break and didn't appear to flirt with breaking it either.

Before he could respond a group of men passed their table, each one of them doing a double take when their eyes landed on Bonnie. Damon sat like a stone although that didn't mean something didn't prick him witnessing strangers look twice in Bonnie's direction. And these weren't ordinary looks, but looks he gave to a woman he wanted to fuck. Some foreign emotion, whatever it was increased as he observed Bonnie deliver heated come hither looks to each individual man. Without saying a word she told a story to each one that she desired him out of the pack.

Clearing his throat loudly to get things back on track, Bonnie returned her attention to him—eyes laughing.

"No," Damon finally answered her question. "I don't think you flipped your switch. But something is different about you."

"I'm a vampire," Bonnie deadpanned.

The dark-haired vampire dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. "I wasn't talking about that. I was referring to your unusual diet."

At the mention of the word diet, Bonnie deliberately wet her bottom lip before entrapping it between her sharp white teeth.

Damon's jaw became a little slack but then he remembered who the hell he was. Damon Salvatore didn't drool over anyone. Without him noticing, until now, Bonnie had been circling his daylight ring with the tip of her index finger.

"Does my diet bother you?" she asked curiously.

Distracted by her caramel finger and not on the question she just asked him, all Damon could reply with was:

"Hun…"

"Are you bothered by how I prefer to quench my thirst? My methods not suitable to your liking?"

Shrugging, Damon flashed a charismatic smile. "They don't bother me in the least. Although I do wonder what the others would have to say if they ever learned whose blood it is that fills you, Bonnie."

Bonnie stopped tracing the shape of his ring. "Sounds like a threat, Damon."

"It's not. Just…why do you like coming after me like some kind of demented fangirl?"

"You taste delicious," Bonnie stated matter-of-factly. Damon hadn't expected her to be so frank and so he had no witty comeback ready. "Your blood…" Bonnie shivered a bit. "It's unlike anything I've ever tasted which isn't that surprising when you think about it."

Intrigued, Damon slid to the edge of the booth, the sleeves of his leather jacket squeaking with his movements. "Now you got me, flower. What do I taste like?"

A divot formed between Bonnie's eyebrows. "You're calling me flower now?"

In response, Damon presented his most shit-eating grin. "Yeah, 'cause I want to pluck you."

Bonnie laughed dryly before a faraway look came into her eyes.

While she collected her thoughts together, Damon traced the shape of Bonnie's face with his iridescent silver-blue eyes. He could tell she fed recently based on her color. She had a beautiful and glowing rosy hue that reminded him of leaves turning in the fall. But it was those eyes of hers that were greener than green, a kind of extraterrestrial color that had yet to be discovered. They shimmered in the muted light of the restaurant with their specks of gold around the pupils.

"Have you tasted yourself?" Bonnie posed a question rather than answer his.

Damon's eyebrows lifted. "Not willingly."

A soft, gentle laugh filled the air. "You taste like rocket fuel, premium gas, the highest grade of octane diesel this side of the Mississippi."

That could have been construed as an insult but it was the highest compliment anyone had ever paid Damon so he wasn't exactly shocked that his body accepted the praise by rising to the occasion. His jeans suddenly shrunk in size right before his very eyes. Especially right around the pelvic area.

Bonnie slid back against the padded booth. "But I'm sure Klaus tastes better. Maybe Elijah. Perhaps Rebekah. Kol and Finn…rest their poor souls."

Damon's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

Bonnie pointed her finger excitedly at Damon who suddenly fell at a loss. One minute she was complimenting him and in the next eviscerated her reasoning for why his blood was her catnip.

"That is why you taste good, Damon. It's your raw emotions."

"My emotions?" Damon inquired dubiously.

"Have you not noticed that when you drink from a person you taste their joy, their fear, the love they have for those who are special to them, their sexuality? The chemicals which fuel those emotions are released through the blood, that's why it's so addicting," the green-eyed vixen catalogued Damon's bemused expression. "Don't you know anything about drinking blood?"

Frowning, Damon snorted derisively. "I would hope so considering I've been doing it since the Civil War. Blood has been nothing but blood to me. Eating. It tastes good because it's food."

"But it can be more than that," Bonnie crooned. "It can be an even exchange. In that moment when you're with your donor you can become their deepest, sickest, most depraved fantasy. Or sweetest. Their blood fuels our lives, and during this exchange we can peek inside their souls and know them more intimately than say…a sexual partner." Bonnie began to trace the lapis lazuli stone of Damon's ring again. "I like drinking from you because I like killing you, Damon."

And when she smiled Damon could have sworn he was facing a legion of demons all of them looking for its pound of flesh. Bonnie's macabre speech would have had a lesser vampire looking for the nearest exit because he knew the final credits on his life were about to start rolling. But instead, Damon remained in his seat although his throat was burning for a drop of alcohol, and now would be the perfect time to order a drink. From the bar.

"How long…"

"Ten second head start," Bonnie interrupted his question knowing exactly what he wanted to know. "You might actually…"

The seat across from her was empty before she could finish her sentence.

"…make it down the block this time," Bonnie concluded as she finished her untouched Coke. Slapping a hand on the table, she pushed herself to her feet, and held up the silver and lapis lazuli ring between her fingers.

She smiled.

Two nights later…

This scenario had played itself out one too many times that Damon was desperate to change the channel. Unfortunately the remote needed new batteries and the store just closed so that meant he had to suffer through Family Night at the Gilbert residence.

He flicked his eyes to his ring. To make sure it was still there. Growling inwardly, Damon was going to think of some nice way to pay that bitch back. Despite being a little amused by her deviousness. Hell, he had done the same thing to Stefan but at least he gave his little bro his ring back before the sun came up.

Bonnie? Nope. She let him find out the hard way that she stole it right from under his nose.

Damon sighed and came back to the present moment.

For days he had dodged Elena's worrisome phone calls and demanding text messages and knew he'd have to show his face before she came looking for him. As much as he wanted to blame her behavior on the sire bond, sadly she was like this before she transitioned to being a vampire. In the past he had found her stalker-like behavior cute and endearing. Damon had taken it as a sign that Elena loved having twenty-four hour access to him although her mouth—at the time—would say otherwise. The words: Leave me alone, Damon never came out of her mouth that much when she was mortal. Nothing had changed in that regard, but now Damon was realizing just how suffocating Elena Gilbert could be.

How Stefan endured it…well when he thought about it those two shared the same clingy trait. If Stefan needed you because of some dire emergency dude didn't know the meaning of you only call once.

Nevertheless he was here, hovering in the background being apart of the festivities but not really assuming the ringleader role. If anyone found it odd that he wasn't as boisterous as he used to be, they were all too busy stuffing their faces with deadly amounts of processed cheese and sugar while guzzling alcoholic beverages like there was a water shortage or something.

A couple of times he caught Stefan staring at him strangely, but Damon did nothing to placate him. Elena couldn't exactly hide how happy she was that he was finally spending time with her. Although it was in a group setting, she was happy nonetheless that his presence was near and any time she looked up from playing bartender her eyes found his.

The doorbell rung and the activity took a pause before resuming again only this time a little more subdued.

"I'll get it," Vampire Barbie volunteered licking nacho cheese sauce off her fingers as she did so. Damon grimaced in disgust.

With his back up against the kitchen wall, he listened as Caroline threw open the front door of the Gilbert pad and enthusiastically welcomed the new arrival.

Damon had been waiting for her to show up. He hadn't been sure she would accept the carrot that had been dangled in front of her face. On the outside he maintained his impassive air, but on the inside that's where all the fun was taking place.

The blue-eyed Salvatore thought back to the other night when a stiletto covered foot made contact with his chest propelling him backwards into a tree. The impact had knocked the wind out of him and didn't give him much time to recover before a small fist smashed into his jaw.

He had been determined not to go down or surrender without a fight although the end had been pre-written. Damon could make a few edits here and there and that's what he sought out to do. However, Bonnie's agenda had been vastly different. That night it wasn't about feeding. It was about letting loose several years of pent up frustration and aggravation in the form of snarls, hair pulling, eye-gouging, gonad tampering, and organ rearrangement.

They nearly beat one another to a bloody pulp until they stopped, too out of breath and lethargic to do anything but limp to their respective corners.

When the sun broke over the horizon and his skin began to blister and burn that's when Damon came to the horrifying realization he was without his daylight ring.

"Missing something?" Bonnie inquired innocently.

Taking cover, Damon dashed into whatever patch of shade he could find, which wasn't much. He railed, "Give me back my fucking ring!"

"Come get it," Bonnie sing songed.

He snarled at her and quickly searched the ground for a large enough area of shade that was close to her. It didn't matter, though because Bonnie was standing in direct sunlight.

"Fine! You win this round. You have the bigger dick. Now cough up the ring."

Bonnie had hesitated before throwing it at his feet. "I certainly can't drain you if you burst into flames now can I, Damon? Have a good morning."

She had vanished after that.

Caroline crossed the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room first, followed two point nine seconds later by Bonnie.

Out of his peripheral, Damon saw that the vitch was carrying a white pastry box. Heads swiveled in her direction. Smiles ranging from sincere to plastic to tentative greeted Bonnie who sat the box down on the center island and then shrugged out of her coat.

Damon peeped at her footwear. Another pair of shockingly high stilettos that instantly made him want to grab and protect his man parts housed her feet.

The atmosphere changed. It was plain to see. No one was sure of what mood Bonnie might be in considering this was her first time socializing with the group as a whole since becoming undead. She wore a smile on her face but her eyes were telling a much different story.

"Bonnie, you look amazing," Elena had been the one to break the ice. She rounded the corner and silently asked Bonnie for a hug. "Thank you for coming."

The vitch may have hesitated for a second but it was a second felt by all. Soon, Bonnie was pulled into the arms of the human—Matt, her emo ex Jeremy, and then finally Caroline.

Stefan merely inclined his head to which Bonnie completely ignored him.

Damon didn't make a single move when Bonnie turned to face him. Neither smiled nor grinned nor glared at the another. Their faces were made of stone but they were translating messages through their own brand of communication that left everyone else comfortably in the dark.

"Damon."

"Bonnie."

The second their pleasantries were out of the way the "fun" resumed.

"What's in the box?" Damon heard the boy Matt ask Bonnie.

Bonnie opened the box to reveal a platter of strawberries. She carefully took the dessert out of the box and placed it on the countertop.

"They're caramelized strawberries drizzled with raspberry sauce," Bonnie explained. She lifted one fat strawberry, inhaled its sweet decadent scent before holding the blood-red fruit up to Matt's mouth. "Taste."

Damon cleared his throat at the inflection he heard in Bonnie's voice. Low. Seductive. Lethal.

All eyes were on them to which Matt noticed and couldn't override the blush staining his cheeks. His human teeth sank into the treat and after a few chews he bobbed his head up and down in approval.

"Wow…that's sick! It's really good."

Bonnie smiled wickedly. "I made them myself. Go ahead everyone. Help yourself. You, too, Damon."

A little surprised by the open invitation, Damon hesitated. This might be a peace offering, an olive branch, or Bonnie laced the strawberries with vervain. In any case, Damon pushed away from the wall and plucked a strawberry off the tray, examined its rich color, sampled a bit of the sweet aroma before taking the sticky tip in his mouth.

This very well might be the only time Damon would agree with Matt on anything. It was sick! The good kind of sick that made you want to slap your mama. Damon had to smirk a little as he realized that strawberries bore the most resemblance to a human heart. He could certainly appreciate Bonnie's use of irony as he devoured the fruit. The raspberry sauce was grainy like biting into a pear but was sweet and made the dormant taste buds in his mouth awaken and fire. He wanted another one.

"What do you think, Salvatore?" Bonnie asked.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Damon reached for another strawberry. "Not bad, but I'm sure a kindergarten Home EC class could do much better."

Challenged issued and with the narrowing of Bonnie's eyes, challenged accepted.

Winking, Damon retreated into the living room. He knew without turning around to see that Elena was following him. Her hand clamped down on his arm and he was swung around to face her.

"Could you keep your patronizing down a notch tonight? This is Bonnie's first time hanging out and…I want everything to be perfect. She's been so isolated."

Not really, but it wasn't like Damon could tell Elena that without raising a bunch of questions. Part of him felt bad that he had to keep such a massive secret from her, but they didn't share that kind of relationship where he revealed parts of himself to her. As Damon thought long and hard about it, he could say that Elena didn't know much about him other than what his actions had showed her of his character, but even that was ambiguous information at best.

He knew he would have to sit down at some point and come to terms with his feelings for Elena. Deal with them, try to convince her to move on because at the end of the day, Damon didn't think he'd ever be good boyfriend material. He was too set in his ways. Too much of everything bad that the little good which resided somewhere deep inside of him, unfortunately was only enough for one person to benefit from.

Anyone with a brain would say that person was Stefan.

Unconsciously his cyan eyes traversed over to Bonnie working from the crown of her head to the soles of her BAMF pumps. Bonnie knew parts of him that Damon hadn't unearthed or bothered to unearth in centuries. And he couldn't say why but he found it fitting.

Elena noticed that he was distracted and redirected her attention to what was holding his.

"She's so different," Elena went on to say. "I just want her to remember that at the end of the day all we have is each other. So will it kill you to play along?"

Damon stared down at Elena, into her earnest and open auburn eyes. "Yes," he said and bit into his strawberry. He went over to the sofa where he parked his butt, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

XXXX

Right now he was feeling…Damon scoffed. He wasn't jealous. Nope that wasn't the emotion currently leading a rebellion through his blood as that base instinct to stake his claim reared its head.

She was just talking. Talking to Jeremy of all fucking creatures so really he didn't feel threatened. But, the way the boy's eyes glittered with stars as he smiled at Bonnie who constantly had to touch him, Damon almost gnawed off the right side of his tongue.

He caught every single sweep of her eyes as they gawked at the awkward teen's neck, caught every flick of her tongue against her full bottom lip or her sharp tooth. She was hungry and that hunger was being translated into several dozen languages. Damon felt his lip curl. She wouldn't dare feed on the boy not when he was around.

The brazen hussy then turned her attention on Matt who hadn't stopped blushing since Bonnie fed him a strawberry.

"I'll be right back, you guys. I need a refill."

"No, I can get it for you," Jeremy eagerly volunteered.

"No, I'll do it," Matt jumped up to his feet.

Bonnie had already disappeared into the kitchen. Damon finished off the last little drop in his own cup before rising to his feet and following after her.

He and Bonnie locked eyes, holding gazes while he went over to the pitcher and poured himself another margarita. He wasn't a fan of margaritas but figured why not branch out a little.

"Hungry?" Damon smirked knowingly.

Bonnie drummed her manicured fingers on the top of the island. "I'm always hungry. That seems to be a downside to this lifestyle," she muttered gloomily.

Zooming over to her, holding another strawberry in his hand, Damon tried to tempt Bonnie with it.

"You can pretend you're sucking the blood out of a heart," he teased.

Bonnie smacked his hand away sending the fruit flying across the room where it splattered against the wall.

"I don't want that," she said on a low growl, her face vamping out for a second before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself.

Eating up what personal space was left between them, Damon carefully touched her cheek. "All you have to do is ask, Bonnie."

"Why ask when I can just take, Damon?"

"Right here, right now," he raised a dark eyebrow in the air tauntingly.

Bonnie's smile was sinister at best. "And out myself as being the one to turn you into a juice box?" she wagged her finger. "I don't think so."

"When was the last time you fed?"

"It's been a week. I'm trying to see how long I can go between feedings. I got…I got a little carried away…after…you know. It's all about moderation."

"You're too strong to deny yourself. I'm sure the last thing you want to do is cost Mystic Grill its lone bus boy. I don't care much what you do to Little Gilbert," except for drink his blood and have sex with him but Damon wouldn't voice that. "I can help take the edge off."

Bonnie stared at him speculatively. "You like it, don't you?"

Damon made a restless motion with his shoulders. "It's different."

"You really want to do this?"

Bending his knees so he could make direct eye contact with Bonnie, Damon said, "When have you ever known me to back down from a challenge? This will be the only time I offer, Judgy. Take it or leave it."

"I can always take it, Damon and you know that."

"And I won't tell if you do."

By far this was probably their most innuendo laced conversation and Damon couldn't lie and say he wasn't getting excited. Luckily for them the noise pouring from the living room masked their tête-à-tête because he was sure if anyone were listening, they'd be barging in demanding to know what the fuck was going on.

Pushing away from the island, Bonnie took a few steps towards the living room, but she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder.

Damon smiled. "Thirty second head start. Your place."

Without agreeing or blowing him off, Bonnie merely exited the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later…

Tapping his fingers on the glass, Damon didn't have to wait long before the curtains were pushed aside and he came face-to-face with Bonnie. Wordlessly she opened the window, took a step back granting him a dispensation. He had been invited into her home a few months ago by her father during the height of Bonnie's Expression power trip. It had been unanimously decided that if anyone had a chance of talking Bonnie back to sanity it was him.

Damon hadn't been sure of his abilities back then, but he gave it a go. Besides, a deal was a deal and he had promised Emily that he would protect her line. Yeah he had a couple of fuck ups, but really could he honestly be faulted for those? Maybe. Mostly. Definitely.

Although he had the gift of gab, Damon's chattering had only agitated Bonnie more setting her off and yet another round of causing chaos.

Entering her bedroom, Damon stood to his full height, towering over Bonnie. He didn't even have the chance to speak, say something biting before he was grabbed roughly by the neck and thrown on the bed.

He laughed as he bounced against the mattress, but his chuckles died down the minute Bonnie climbed over his body.

Damon reckoned she wasn't doing this because she loved or liked him. Her hunger far surpassed those human emotions that there simply was no name for it. Supply and demand—simple economics in which he was the manufacturer but also the consumer.

Two vampires sharing blood, there was nothing more consummate than that. Damon reasoned he should be worried about the repercussions of them continuing on like this unhindered and unchecked. However all of his doubts, worries, and fears fell by the wayside when Bonnie sank her fangs into him and drank his blood. And Damon didn't know peace until he was here at her total mercy, right at the brink of true vulnerability and rawness. Where for once, he felt human—truly human something he missed more than he cared to show or admit. With Bonnie, Damon could be Damon. The Salvatore who fucked things up. Loved women, sex, blood, and booze, and was unapologetic. Besides, there was little he could hide from her once his blood was in her system.

She sat astride him, her chocolate hair in 'S' shaped waves that framed her face like a halo, donned in a sheer black one piece with lace embroidery covering her breasts, and a pair of black skinny jeans. Sexy and casual rolled into one and yet looking up at her still made him breathless and his blackened heart quicken in his chest. Bonnie was a masterpiece, and Damon wasn't just referring to her looks. She was not like herself—the martyr, the witch, protector. She was a celestial being, a fallen angel. Folklore and reality. A legend in the making. Or at the very least she would be with his help of course. They would go down in the history books together.

Damon held her tightly by the waist marveling at the strength he could detect. Bonnie hadn't gone in for the kill—literally. She had yet to bite him but that didn't stop him from licking his lips in anticipation. He shouldn't be this excited to be the "special" on anyone's menu, and plenty of times Damon questioned his sanity. Whenever he felt as if he were losing control of his life that's when he'd make the conscious decision to flip his switch, but he didn't want to cop out, take the easy way out. The fear of missing something, of losing this flux of feelings is what kept him from going that route.

He watched as Bonnie's face began to transform. Black veins undulated beneath her bottom eyelashes, writhing like snakes. Green eyes became onyx, and normal canine teeth morphed into fangs. Slowly she drew closer, her hair falling forward like a veil. Damon didn't want to miss the show, but knew he needed to turn his head to give Bonnie better access to his neck.

She hissed, and Damon relaxed his muscles. He groaned a bit when the heat of her mouth beat against the coolness of his flesh. His back arched the second she struck, double pin pricks of lightning singeing his skin.

Damon listened to the sound of Bonnie drinking his blood, concentrated on the feel of her fingers caressing the column of his neck and then his pectorals, writhed a little at the sensation of her hair feathering against his face.

His hands grew a mind of their own as they rubbed her back before lowering to grab her ass. Bonnie let out a squeak but didn't stop her feeding, and taking that as a sign that she liked it, Damon did it again before flipping their positions.

Bonnie tightened her legs around Damon and, drinking a few more mouthfuls of his blood, she disengaged her fangs.

Damon leaned away and stared down at her. Bonnie's chocolate hair was fanned out against the mattress as her chest rose and fell rapidly. She had always been a tough book to read, a tough nut to crack but there was no denying what Damon read in her eyes right now. She wanted more than blood exchange. She wanted to experience the total package of being alone with Damon Salvatore. He wondered if she saw any of his memories encoded in his blood as he had seen in hers the one and only time he was given permission to feed from her. If so, what did she see and had that changed or altered anything between them?

"You want me," she said suddenly. It wasn't a smug revelation, but it caught Damon off guard nonetheless because he had been working so hard not to want her. Right?

He nodded and then waited for her to tell him to get real or to run back to Elena. Funny how his thoughts were drifting farther and farther away from Elena with each passing day, and with each encounter with Bonnie.

When Bonnie didn't make a follow-up statement, Damon crossed his arms over his torso, reached for the hem of his shirt and took it off.

Bonnie toured his exposed chest with slumberous eyes, and Damon desperately wanted to know what she thought about him. He knew how he appeared to women. They had never been shy in letting him know what a hot piece of ass he was, but Damon wanted the former witch's opinion. Did she like what she see? Did what she see turn her on? Was he the most beautiful thing she ever laid eyes on? Had she ever fantasized about the two of them getting Biblical? Had she known they would end up in this position at some time in the future?

Damon's internal questions were soon distracted by Bonnie running a hand from his navel up to his Adam's apple. Damon covered her body with his and wiped a corner of her mouth clean.

"Let me see," Bonnie pushed his raven hair off his forehead.

Damon vamped out. Bonnie did the same and then slowly their heads drew together determined to meet halfway.

"I shouldn't," she paused right before their lips touched.

"Why?" Damon asked feeling irritable.

"You know why. I said I wouldn't until you resolved your issues."

Damon sighed. "That's going to take some time."

Bonnie traced his bottom lip with her thumb. She knew that it would take more than a couple of weeks for any guy to purge Elena Gilbert out of his system.

More to the point, it was hard purging Damon out of hers, Bonnie was discovering. But until said time arrived she would take her jollies where she could find them.

Damon watched as her eyes closed, and needing no further prompting on his end, he sealed his lips over hers, kissing Bonnie with abandon. Damon prided himself on being the kind of kisser that caused ovaries to go into nuclear meltdowns, and from the mewls of pleasure erupting from Bonnie's mouth to which he greedily gobbled up and swallowed, he knew he was getting the job done, making his mark, and leaving his impression.

Slipping his tongue deep inside her mouth, he smiled a little when Bonnie's little muscle teased and toyed with his.

Damon couldn't hide his erection but it didn't seem to matter because Bonnie had widened her legs allowing him more room between her thighs while her hands found their resting place on his ass. He highly approved of that.

The elder Salvatore could taste himself on Bonnie's tongue which only made him thirst for a drop of her blood. Unfortunately their tongues and lips were too busy frolicking around to stop and get to know more intimate body parts during this exploration.

Air was not a necessity between their kind so they kissed and kissed and kissed. And kissing turned into grinding. He'd thrust his hips into her wishing he could actually feel Bonnie, but Damon was smart enough to know she would never consent to that happening. Not now at least.

Didn't mean his hands were idle. They explored her sinuous curves, cupped and squeezed her breasts, and fondled her nipples until they pebbled against his fingers.

Their lips separated and when they did Bonnie let out a sigh that echoed in Damon's ears. And what neither one of them knew was that her eyes glowed as if someone were shining a light out of her orbs. The wind howled outside, and the lights flickered but only for an instant.

Damon buried his head in the space between Bonnie's shoulder and neck and began peppering her with kisses while she combed her little fingers through his ink-black hair.

She was right on the brink and Damon took it as his opportunity to strike, sinking his fangs into Bonnie like a cobra. She nearly snatched him bald for that, but clutched him tighter.

Once again Damon would find himself agreeing with someone else's opinion. He recalled his conversation with Bonnie at the Grill where she said she could taste a person's emotions in their blood, and right now he was savoring her complexities. She was thrilled, terrified of losing herself—not to him but to the darkness that had latched itself like an succubus within her. But most importantly she was very, very, very horny.

Damon didn't take more than a few tablespoons and that was enough for him. With his top lip coated with Bonnie's blood, he bit into his bottom one until he bled and then resumed kissing her recklessly.

Clumsily his fingers tried to pop the button on her jeans and lower the zipper, but the moment was interrupted with the annoying beep of an alarm.

"What the hell is that noise?" he growled.

It took a moment for Bonnie to climb down from the cloud she was riding on. Her eyes fluttered opened and then widened as she easily pushed Damon off of her. She clamored out of bed and then searched her messy desk for her cell phone. Finding it, she cut off the alarm and then ran a hand through her hair.

"Sorry, but we're going to have to pick this up later. I have another engagement."

Damon's jaw visibly dropped open. "Excuse me? It's gotta be past midnight. Just where the hell are you going? And with whom?"

Bonnie ignored his questions as she disappeared in her closet and reappeared within seconds dressed in a black long sleeve Lycra top and a white flowing skirt with a thigh-high split.

Damon swallowed thickly and followed Bonnie with his eyes as she headed over to her dresser and began to rifle through her jewelry box. He was still waiting for her to answer one of his questions.

"I'm being courted," Bonnie finally killed the suspense.

Something uncomfortable pressed down on the center of his chest and Damon did the best he could to ignore it, write it off but he couldn't. Bonnie was looking a little too happy to be going out on this date when clearly they had been in the middle of something pornographic. Well, it was getting there.

"Who the fuck is courting you?" the question sounded more like it was supposed to be an insult translating into who would waste their time trying to court her.

Bonnie's spine stiffened and she stopped her search for the perfect jewelry to glower at him. "Not that it's any of your business but…it's Klaus."

Once again, Damon's jaw hit his chest and he was up and on his feet in less than a second. "How the hell does he get off trying to court you when his ass is supposed to be…" he clammed up once he realized what he was about to say.

Bonnie arched an eyebrow. "Seems I have a habit of attracting the attention of men—vampires who have a thing for my best friends. Maybe Stefan will be next on the list." She brushed past him and entered the connecting bathroom.

And Damon knew she wasn't saying that to try to stick it to him but to make a point. Still it burned his chest among other things to know that Bonnie was treating "their" situation so casually when just moments ago they had been making magic for lack of a better word.

His mouth chose this time to move faster than his brain. "You're not going."

Bonnie stepped back into her bedroom a look of astonishment on her face.

"Stay here with me," Damon implored. "We were having fun. You don't need Klaus' attention when I can show you as good a time as he can. You'd probably have more fun with me than him anyways." Pause. "Have you…?"

Bonnie held up a hand. "No, I haven't gone there with Klaus and I have no intentions of going there."

"So why are you even giving that asshole the time of day?"

"Why do you care? Don't you have enough on your plate with the whole sire bond thing than to worry about what I'm doing and with whom?"

"That's the only ammunition you have to use against me and guess what it's not having its desired effect," Damon was now standing toe-to-toe with Bonnie. He cupped her cheek. "Blow him off, Bonnie and I promise you'll never have to turn to another vampire for kicks again."

"You think that's what this is all about? Of course you do." Bonnie pulled his hand away. "I never said Klaus was courting me in the romantic sense."

Realization dawned on Damon. "You're the first of your kind. A witch and a vampire and he wants you in his harem. Smart, but he does know he doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of actually wooing you to his side, right?"

Bonnie said nothing. Only resumed her search for the appropriate jewelry.

A tick began to hammer in Damon's jaw. "Right?" he reiterated sharply. As time crawled by and Bonnie didn't answer his question, the more agitated Damon found himself becoming.

He was on her like white on rice, spinning her around to face him, her hair taking flight in the process, smacking her in the face once she stopped turning.

"Right, Bonnie?"

"What do you want me to say, Damon? Rest easy because your vitch isn't going anywhere? That would be a lie. I'm not staying in Mystic Falls for the rest of my life. I can go anywhere in the world I want and I'll use whoever I have to get there."

"Then use me. Let's get out of here." Again his mouth was moving faster than his brain. Damon didn't like Bonnie like that and she clearly shared the same sentiment towards him. Yeah, he wanted to bone her—but really that came as no surprise.

Yet Damon couldn't deny they worked well together when options were limited. There had never been a burning need in Damon to earn Bonnie's approval, and he never jumped through hoops to try to get her to notice him, and Bonnie never expected that from him, which in hindsight had been refreshing. But the thought of her running away with Klaus left such a foul taste in his mouth it made him act irrationally and think illogically.

He should be convincing Elena to run away with him. Not Bonnie. But it was Bonnie's bedroom he was standing in. It was Bonnie's blood flowing through his system. And it was his blood and his blood only that he wanted Bonnie to drink. They were, in a very odd and unorthodox way, connected.

Damon knew he needed to sit down and figure things out before opening his mouth again. However, when two people kissed the way they did, argued the way they did, came and worked together and saw success the way they did this all added up to something. And it was that something Damon didn't want to lose.

"You're being serious right now?" Bonnie said.

"Frighteningly so," he licked his lips. "We can figure out the rest later. Just go away with me for a couple of days."

Bonnie nibbled a corner of her lip, contemplating.

He was waiting to be bombarded with second and third thoughts, but surprisingly he was calm. This was the right decision.

Sliding behind the wheel, Damon started the ignition. "Any regrets?"

"Nope."

"Good."

"So where are we going?"

Delivering his notorious half-smirk, Damon pulled away from the curb and then looked at his companion in the passenger seat.

"The place where I was at my most…inhumane. New York, of course."

Green eyes glittered in mischief while blue eyes widened theatrically. They were going to do some serious damage and Damon couldn't wait.

The End.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this. I do plan to do a third and final installment to kind of tie everything together and to go a little into Bonnie's POV and how she feels about being a vitch, and maybe possibly exploring that more. I kind of just wanted to explore Damon more as a character because when I pen a story its usually from Bonnie's perspective, so I just wanted to do something different from the norm, from what I'm used to writing. And I purposely left something's ambiguous for a reason, and maybe you'll see why in the final one-shot. Thank you again for reading and please let me know what you think! Love you!