Author's Note: Bonnie is twenty-years-old, therefore was never in the same grade as Elena, Caroline, Matt, etc... The rest of her back story will remain a mystery...for now B). Damon's back story is the same as in Vampire Diaries...the only difference is that he never "met Elena first" because that was just stupid and out of character for him to be like "you want a love that consumes you! But you won't remember me...so...peace!" and then he leaves...really? No. He'd be like O.O KATHERINE?! COME TO ME!

This is set in 2009 so I'm really excited! Reminiscing with some nice 2009 music B) I'll probably recommend a lot of 2009 songs to you readers ehehe

Songs: So Fine - Sean Paul (1st half), Power - Katerina Graham (2nd half)

Damon's long, smooth fingers press against dark wood, tapping impatiently. He eyes the bartender who is busy sending tin cups into the air and bouncing them off his elbows when they come back down. After his seven second show he sets the two cups on the counter, reaching under and then pulling a clear, vodka bottle out. He throws the bottle into the air. It spins. He catches it with his other hand.

Damon isn't impressed.

He looks at the other bartender, this one is also a man but much more attractive, even Damon could admit; though, obviously this server isn't better looking than him. But he likes this guy. This one seems to actually be making drinks instead of spinning cups. Probably because he isn't ugly, Damon thinks. He can relate to this bartender.

You don't need tricks to impress when people orgasm just by looking at you.

A waitress takes a step in the space between Damon and the man beside him. "Need a Kamikaze, Rich" she says, making eye contact with the bartender. He nods and turns around to collect the ingredients. She looks at the other bartender, eyes narrowing. "Hey, Carl, less flipping, more pouring, yeah?"

He looks over at her, smiling sheepishly. "You got it, Bon."

"Kamikaze...I've never had one of those." Damon smiles at the caramel-coloured waitress. "What's in it?"

The waitress tries to hide her annoyance as she looks at this man. "I'm not a bartender," she says, voice not as kind as the fake smile on her face.

Damon's eyes shine in the light as he glances at the woman's full, red lips then back up at her. "You should be...I'm sure you would attract a lot of customers."

She forces herself not to roll her eyes. Even attractive men have become repulsive to her after working nine months in this place. "Lime juice, triple sec and vodka."

"What?"

"The ingredients in the Kamikaze. I highly recommend it," she says, winking. She is almost like a prostitute the way she has to flirt in this place and she hates it. But money equals food and food equals a happy witch. "I'll be back to see how you liked it."

"Here, Bon."

A cocktail glass with a blue-coloured liquid in it and a sliced lime stabbed through the top is placed in her caramel-coloured hand.

Then she is gone.

And Damon feels almost...

Brushed off?

"What can I get for you?" Rich asks, reaching for empty cups left on the counter.

Damon smiles. "Kamikaze."

The blond man nods.

Damon doesn't watch him as he mixes together the three ingredients. Instead, he turns to watch the waitress as she delivers a single glass to a table filled with colourful drinks. The woman she hands it to smiles and thanks her before turning to her friends and laughing at something one of them said.

The waitress hurries through a pair of doors and comes back a couple of seconds later, two plates full of greasy looking burgers balanced in her hands.

"Wouldn't recommend it, my man," Rich says as he hands the cocktail to Damon.

Blue eyes meet brown ones.

"She came out of her mom's cunt saying 'no'," he explains, obviously exaggerating to emphasize his point. "Trust me." He pulls a clean, white rag off of his left shoulder and slides it over the wet counter.

They both glance at the smiling waitress.

Damon looks back at the bartender. "You're only encouraging me, man."

Rich smiles, eyes taking a little while longer to focus on Damon. "I know." He tosses the rag onto his shoulder. "Maybe I'm just hoping that someone will fuck the uptight virgin out of her." He taps the dark wood twice before continuing to speak. "Good luck, my man," he says before heading towards a man and his empty glass.

"Don't need it," Damon mumbles. He brings the glass to his lips and swallows all of it in two sips. His lips purse as his head tilts. He nods while looking at the now empty glass. "Not bad."

He must admit, however, that he is more of a whiskey kind of man; not to forget vodka and rum. He prefers straight alcohol instead of the mixed, fruity, colourful type. Chicks can keep their flamboyant drinks, he prefers simplicity.

A hand rests on his shoulder. He turns to look at the tall, brunette woman behind him, the one who ordered the Kamikaze.

"I'm Samantha." She smiles.

"Damon," he responds, voice lacking flavour. He looks her up and down, pleased with her curvy figure. Then he glances at the waitress and back to her. Never mind, he thinks, realizing that she doesn't have enough of a figure to please him. No, he'll wait for his prize.

"Look..." she says, obviously new to the pick-up-strangers thing. "My friends over there were convinced that you were looking at me. And..."

He nods. "I was." He puts on his most charming smile. Might as well pass the time. He looks at the table she came from, seeing her friends' watchful eyes. "You have an extra spot for me over there?"

She seems almost surprised when she responds. "Yes."

Perhaps she realizes that she is not in the same category as him: drop-dead sexy.

She is correct.

Yet, he follows her to the middle-aged woman table; purely to pass the time, he knows, just until his waitress gets off shift.

"Why hello there," one woman says, eyeing him as if he is her next meal.

Damon forces himself not to gag at the sight of her plaque-covered teeth. "Damon, pleasure to meet you," he says, reaching for her hand and pressing her light skin against his lips. She blushes when he lets go and focuses on the other forty-something women.

He vaguely hears her introduce herself as Kathy.

Maybe.

He doesn't care. She is too ugly for him to pay attention to her.

Samantha motions for him to sit in the seat beside her.

He is at the table for about ten minutes before he begins to tire of them. The cougars, however, are too mesmerized by the beauty in front of them to even consider boredom. They stare at him, eating up his every word. Then Jack Sparrow - an unspoken nickname he has given to 'Kathy' - looks at the waitress who walks past their table.

"Excuse me," she says, trying to get the woman's attention.

The waitress looks back. "Yes? What can I help you with?"

Damon looks up at the caramel-coloured beauty, licking his lips in anticipation for what he plans on doing to her later.

"Do you have a special? Something...on the house?"

The waitress shakes her head. "No, sorry. Is there anything else I could do for you?"

Jack Sparrow leans forward. "I come here every week, dear. Are you sure there is nothing you can get for me?"

"I'm sorry. I really-"

"Look, as I said...I come here every week. It's not cheap. Are you trying to say that you don't give any special benefits to returning customers?" She shakes her head, anger starting to surface in her eyes. "What kind of business are you running here?"

The muscles in Damon's jaw twitches.

"Miss, I-"

Damon looks at Jack Sparrow. "If money is an issue I can take care of you." She tries to open her mouth to speak but he interrupts her. "This lovely lady has been working hard to please you, even getting you drinks when you could just get them yourself." He motions to the place just two meters away. "Give her a break...for me." He says the last part with a heart-melting smirk, pupils shrinking.

Jack Sparrow is wide eyed for a moment, recovering from compulsion as she swallows and nods. She looks at the waitress. "Never mind, I don't need anything."

Damon makes eye contact with the waitress. She smiles, thankful before she turns to carry out orders given to her by other customers. Damon leans back in his chair, feeling suddenly accomplished.

One genuine smile.

Check.

Next on his list?

Some jealousy.

He grabs Samantha's hand and raises her to her feet. "We'll be back," he promises the women.

The tall brunette glances back nervously at them as she walks with Damon. As soon as their feet touch the colourful, glowing dance floor the vampire's hands find her hips, filling her with all kinds of butterflies.

I'll be your sunshine

You could be mine

He spins her around and pulls her ass to his pelvis, swaying his hips as he does so. Her back arches as she reaches for the back of his neck. She pulls herself closer to him as they grind.

You'll be my wind chime

I've got the rhyme

One arm wraps around her waist, just below her breasts.

We'll have a good time

Make up your mind

She moans as his pelvis presses closer to her.

Roll with me girl

You're so fine

Both hands return to her hips as she suddenly takes control and begins grinding against him. Cougars, he thinks, always come out to play when something young and hot rubs against them.

He glances out at the dining area.

His waitress is nowhere in sight.

Growling, he guides Samantha away from him, spinning her so that she is facing him. Their equal height allows for him to look straight into her eyes as his hands squeeze her hips. She is attractive, sure, but any jealousy from 'Bon' would be unfounded. He knows, however, that women are far from rational, therefore the waitress is bound to feel a hint of something when she sees them dancing like this.

Maybe envy?

"You will not scream," he says. She nods slowly.

He pulls her closer to him, bringing his lips to her neck. She gasps as he bites down. He covers the act with a single hand, sucking quickly so that no blood can escape him.

She begins to moan.

No one could say that he doesn't please his victims.

He licks his lips clean before scratching a spot on his collarbone, causing blood to form. "Drink." He grabs the back of her head and forces her lips to his skin. She licks at the crimson. He watches as the wound on her neck heals. Once the area is completely smooth he resumes his dance with her, this time feeling a slight more attraction to her.

Her blood tastes nice.

Again, he looks at the dinning area. He catches his waitress glancing at them. He smiles, looking at her as he spins Samantha back around so that her ass is once again pressing against his pelvis. He grinds against her. The waitress looks away.

Jealousy? Maybe not.

But envy is a yes.

He is done.

He grabs Samantha's hand and takes her off the dance floor, her mind still spinning, butterflies now mating in her stomach. She feels wetness against her thighs when she takes her seat next to the man who has done this to her.

The rest of the cougars smile at them, having watched their every movement up there. They glance at her neck, surprised not to see a hicky; though, the spot is noticeably red-tinted. They look at Samantha, unspoken words passing between them and her.

The bar is ten minutes from closing when 'Bon' comes back to check on them. "We'll be closing soon. Is there anything I can get you before you leave? Some food?"

They shake their heads. "No, thanks."

"We'll just take the bill," Jack Sparrow says.

She nods and leaves, returning less than a minute later with a receipt. She lays it down on the table in front of Jack Sparrow, who's eyes widen in surprise. Damon wastes no time in sliding the bill over to himself. He takes a dark wallet from his pocket and pulls five hundred-dollar bills from it. He takes the receipt and places both in her hand. "That's for the Kamikaze, too."

She looks at Damon, eyes widening in remembrance. "Sorry, I forgot...how did you like it?"

He raises a glass filled with Jack Daniels. "I'm a man of simple tastes," he explains.

She nods, a curly strand falling into her vision. Gently, she brushes it away, smiling. "Well, I hope to see you here again tomorrow."

"Here?" he questions, frowning. Suddenly, he stands, making her take a step back so their proximity isn't awkward. "Why not in your bed?"

Samantha looks quickly at the man, hand fiddling with her necklace as she watches them. Her friends watch as well, though their faces are different, pissed off.

The waitress laughs. "That's the alcohol talking."

"I don't know about that." He takes her wrist in his hand, caressing her skin with his thumb. "I wanted to lay you down on that counter over there and fuck you senseless as soon as I saw you."

Her laugh becomes non-existent as she studies this man before her, visions of blood and screaming victims flashing in her eyes. She pulls her hand from his grasp like someone would once they realize the person that is touching them is a leper. Damon frowns at the sudden action, eyes narrowing in confusion. "I'm sorry, I have to go clean tables," she says before speed walking away.

"What the hell was that?" Jack Sparrow says.

"He's a man, what do you expect," another, somehow uglier, woman says. He could care less what the pointy-nosed bitch thought.

Damon rolls his eyes before looking at the table of cougars. "You should get some White Strips, Captain Jack Sparrow," he says, looking at the annoyance across from him, face scrunching like he has eaten something sour. "Maybe just a tooth-brush."

"Excuse me?"

"Shut the fuck up. I take shits that look better than your face, Sparrow."

She frowns. "You are a sorry excuse for a man, you pig."

He scoffs. "You'd be lucky if I even let you near my dick. As well as contracting herpes," he says, looking her up and down. "I'd get gingivitis, you sick, ugly bitch."

"You-"

His hands press against the table as he stares directly into her eyes. Slowly, he says, "Shut the fuck up."

She is quiet.

He looks at each woman, compelling them to forget that they ever met him. With Jack Sparrow he goes one step further and compels her to go to a dentist and get her mouth fixed. She is lucky he doesn't compel her to commit suicide.

Letting her walk this earth is a sin, itself.

She should be grateful.

Ten minutes later he is waiting for the waitress outside, hoping that she hasn't snuck out from some back entrance.

After ten more minutes she appears, Rich by her side.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you."

They both eye Damon, Rich moving protectively in front of her.

Damon almost rolls his eyes. "Go home," he commands, pupils becoming smaller.

The bartender blinks a couple of times before obeying and leaving. Bonnie looks at Rich's retreating figure with wide eyes.

"Want to take me up on my offer?"

Brown eyes meet blue.

The waitress swallows. "No, thanks. I have to go home." She tries to walk past him but he blocks her.

"You're afraid of me," he says, convinced. "Why?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire, Bon. Now, you can come with me willingly or I can just make you...It's your choice, really."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she says through a clenched jaw, her fingers beginning to twitch.

He reaches for her wrist again.

She avoids his touch.

"Don't make this difficult. I wouldn't want to bruise that beautiful skin of yours."

Her eyes narrow as she looks up at him. Suddenly, he falls to his knees. A pained growl leaves his lips as his hands press against his head.

Dark veins begin to run up from her neck and onto her face. She watches him, smiling at his pleas.

"Stop," he demands.

The pain increases.

He screams.

Bonnie inhales loudly, the fear of this thing consuming her again making the veins disappear. She runs past the vampire.

He remains on the ground, paralyzed by the pain that has not yet gone away.

Five seconds.

It is gone.

He climbs to his feet and turns around, eyes wild. Her back disappears as she turns a corner.

Fucking witch. She's a fucking witch.

He pauses, deciding whether he will follow her or not.

His anger doesn't allow for any other option but to hunt her down and drain her.

Such a waste, he thinks before speeding after her.

"Let go of me."

"What happened to that magic, huh, witch?" Damon smirks against her neck as he holds her body against his.

Bonnie's elbows jab into his stomach as she tries to get away, legs flailing. "I'll do it again!" she threatens. "I'll-"

"I don't see you doing anything, witch. Now, if you don't stop struggling, I will snap your neck, understood?" He caresses her hair as she calms down.

She breathes in deeply as he smiles, victorious.

"Good little witch."

Slowly, he releases her.

She remains still.

He walks in front of her, bringing his hands to her hips. His skin almost tingles when he touches her as if something deep is being ignited in him. He is very familiar with this feeling.

Lust.

He lifts her arm and rubs the sleeves of her black jacket against her lips. Once the red is a faded pink he kisses her, taking her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling on it. He kisses her for only a few seconds before he pulls back, angry. "I'm not into necrophilia," he says. "Don't be a fucking corpse."

She swallows.

He caresses her cheek. "Look, Bon, I'm going to give you this chance again. Know that I don't do this often." He leans into her, allowing his breath to warm her face in the night air. She closes her eyes as he continues. "Kiss me back and I won't hurt you."

Slowly, gently, he pulls her closer. A sharp, audible noise comes from her mouth when his thumb presses against a spot just above her left hip. He smiles as she arches forward, surprised by the feeling being sent through her. He presses the spot just a little harder as his smooth lips press against her cracked, stained ones. She gasps into the kiss.

This feeling is wrong.

He threatened to kill her.

She says no to anyone anytime they try anything. Why should he be so special? Why does he deserve her kisses?

The answer comes to her easily: he doesn't accept no for an answer; he commands her to do as he says; she feels almost powerless in his grasp.

And she can't help but to feel a little thrilled by all of this.

One night, she thinks. One night then I'll sneak out in the morning and I'll leave this city. I'll find a place where I won't need to resort to Expression. I'll-

His tongue enters her mouth.

She clutches at the sides of his leather jacket, forcing him to be even closer, so much so that his pelvis is pressed against her stomach. His eyes open in surprise. To be quite honest, he didn't expect her to give into his threats so willingly. He stares at her for a moment before closing his eyes and squeezing her ass.

Damon slams Bonnie against the wall beside the entrance to her suite. Her back throbs but the pain is soon forgotten when he begins to reach into her jacket, his thumb still pressing against her soft spot. He pulls a shiny, silver key from one of the pockets.

He shoves the key into the lock and opens the door. It almost bursts from its hinges as he grabs her by the front of her dark jacket and drags her inside, almost slamming the door behind them. He throws her onto the bed, removing his jacket and shirt with a speed Bonnie has never seen before. Before she can even think about questioning him he appears in front of her and unzips her jacket. He throws it across the room and proceeds to, literally, rip the black tank top from her body. He tosses the pieces to the floor as he changes his focus to her shoes, items that he simply slides off. Now, the pants. Even though they are a tight fit - something he doesn't mind at all - he removes them with ease.

Soon, her thong is on the floor and he is separating her legs. He looks up at her, curious as to whether the bartender was right about her being a virgin. She definitely does not kiss like she is one.

Her expression, fear mixed with longing says it all.

He smirks, moving his face to her trimmed area. His tongue glides across the most sensitive area of all women. Slowly, the motions quicken and he is writing the whole alphabet into her clitoris within seconds.

Slowly, without disturbing the speed of his tongue, he slides one finger into her wetness. Her walls feel tight against his finger. It doesn't take long for him to double it, making the tightness he feels that much greater.

The bed sheets fold beneath Bonnie's grasp.

Her moans are almost enough for him to go right here, right now.

Most girls scream with him.

If they only knew that it is the simplicity of heavy breathing that gets him off.

Bonnie's back arches as she reaches her first climax of the night. It is nothing compared to what she will feel when he is inside of her.

Her chest rises and falls at a rapid pace as Damon stands. At this point he would usually be making her gag on the length of his dick.

But he just can't wait.

He has never been patient, besides she is inexperienced. It would just be disappointing. She may be surprisingly good at kissing but, then again, kissing is not sucking a dick.

He slides his feet from his shoes and removes his pants completely - he doesn't enjoy the hassle of fucking someone when his ankles are in jean cuffs, so to say. His boxers are next and soon, he is just as naked as Bonnie.

Almost.

He curls one finger around the piece of fabric connecting her C cups together and pulls her up. Slowly, he reaches around to the back of the laced, black bra while going to his knees and bringing his mouth to her neck. Again, she moans.

Fuck.

He wastes no more time with foreplay. He drops the bra to the ground and rises to his feet, shoving her back down to the bed. He grabs her hips and pulls her towards him, so much so that her ass hangs off the bed.

She looks at him, the fear and longing still in her eyes.

Definitely a virgin.

No matter. He'll just eat her out again once he is done.

There is no point in wasting good blood, especially if she is a witch. There is nothing better than a witch's blood. His mouth salivates at the thought. And, for a moment, he wonders if he is more vampire than man, considering this is what he is thinking about instead of already entering her.

He wastes no more time.

Slowly, he pushes in, pausing when the tip is fully in to look at Bonnie's expression. He continues, still slow, until he is halfway in. Her eyes are closed.

He doesn't like that.

Smack!

Her right ass cheek reddens in just a second. Her eyes widen.

"Don't close your eyes, witch," he orders.

She bites her lip as he pulls out and pushes in again, still only halfway in. It feels weird at first, not completely painful, that is, until he slides all eight inches into her. She forces her mouth shut, not allowing the scream to escape her. She tries to close her eyes but is immediately smacked again.

"That's not a punishment," she whispers, darkly. "Ever consider that I like it?"

His eyes shine in the little moonlight that seeps into the room. Quickly, he pulls out and shoves back in, hard and forceful.

A muffled gasp slaps the inside of her mouth, trying its hardest to escape.

Her determination only arouses him more. He grabs her neck and lifts her into the air, free hand pushing her pelvis to his. Yet, her legs continue to dangle. He growls, looking up at her like she is stupid. Then he sees her smirk, amused by her own refusal.

He can't help the dark smile that comes to his lips. "Masochist," he whispers through a light chuckle.

Bonnie returns the smile just before he slams her back against a wall for the second time tonight. She is going to have a bruise in the morning. She just knows it.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commands. This time, she obeys. He releases her neck and wraps a single arm around her, his free hand squeezing her ass.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Her nails claw into his back. He growls, animalistic, as his thrusts become deeper, harder, faster. "Fuck."

Lines of blood roll down his pale back, staining his skin instantly. That is nothing, the arousal he feels from it is nothing compared to when she brings her mouth to his neck and bites down hard. His grip on her ass tightens as a pained moan escapes him.

He feels himself getting close.

No, not yet.

He intends to fuck her more than twice tonight. But, even for one of those, five minutes then done isn't an option for his ego.

In a second they are on the bed and she is flipped over onto her hands and knees.

It's okay.

He'll go slow.

Gather himself.

Then Bonnie reaches behind her with one hand and digs into his thigh. She looks back at him, mouth wide with pleasure as he thrusts into her.

He pulls out, releasing onto her ass cheeks.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck!

He growls as she smirks. "Well, that was quick," she says, knowing that he should be ashamed of such a thing.

"We're not done," he whispers, voice raspy as he thrusts into her again. She moans loudly at the sudden entrance, causing Damon to want her to make more noises like that. He is not a fan of screams but there is a strong part of him that craves hearing her shout his name, beg for him to keep going.

Bonnie is too proud to do such a thing, even though his efforts are definitely worthy a scream or two. All she feels is pure ecstasy as blood runs down her thighs. There is no pain, nothing like that.

Everything is simply blissful.

Author's Note: My first mature fic. What do you readers think? :p It got a little steamy...just a little ahaha. There will definitely be some more Bamon next chapter...though, it'll mostly be mostly filled with them getting to know each other...and...Damon trying to persuade Bonnie not to go to work. ;)

Btw...don't be confused. It is all simply lust...for now B)