A/N: Many thanks to PiecesofEight and voilawriter for their awesome beta'ing and encouragement! I don't own VD.
The Man of Mystic Falls
Bonnie couldn't believe she let Elena talk her into cramming in make-up and lighting for this last minute photo shoot! Granted, 'The Men of Mystic Falls' calendar had gone viral over the years and had become an internationally bestselling fundraiser for the town's worthy causes, but she'd long ago left behind her days of beautifying the spoiled, adored and rich for far more intellectually satisfying pursuits. She was quite happy making a living as a respected biochemist, shuttling back and forth between her Duke and NHI labs at will. However, this particular subject, not to mention the Founder's Council, staunchly refused any and all offers of the best and most au courantmakeup artists, wanting to keep the resources local.
Resigned to her commitment, she parked her car in front of the Salvatore boarding house, steeling herself against any possible confrontations with the ever-wily Damon. Famon would be more like it, she said to herself, mentally scrolling through some of the covers of entertainment magazines and tabloids he'd graced since she'd moved away from Mystic Falls a decade ago, leaving its vampires, magic and mayhem behind. He'd always been a playboy of sorts, but in the age of the 24-hour news cycle, he'd made quite the media whore of himself. From what Elena recounted about him via email, phone calls and visits, he was all but de-fanged, choosing to sip from starlets and celebutants, opting to wipe their memories instead of killing them outright. Which makes absolutelyno sense. If anyone deserved to be offed, it should be those damned aimless, vacant-headed bimbos he'd attached himself to with barnacle-like, disturbing regularity.
The killing hadn't altogether stopped, Damon was just more discriminating with his kills, Elena relayed. He traveled farther afield for his prey, and did research of all things, preferring to hunt and chase down the predators of the human populace. Apparently, there was a special place in his appetite for the child predators of the world.
"So...Damon's become something like a fanged-up 'Dexter'?" she thought, recalling a long ago conversation, laughing at the news.
"Yeah," Elena chuckled. "He's even a consultant with the F.B.I. They send him their most perplexing cases with little to no leads or evidence and he goes hunting. He gets results, the crimes stop and they ask no questions. There are at least a half dozen commendations gathering dust around here somewhere."
"Unbelievable," she whispered, eyeing the house balefully bringing herself back to the present. Shaking herself of her disdain and wrapping herself in a cloak of resolve, Bonnie told herself, "I'll just treat him like any other client I've had and hopefully, he won't want to re-hash any of the bad old times." Getting out of the car, she hefted her suitcases of equipment out of her trunk and rolled them towards the entrance of the manse.
She was met at the door by Elena and Stefan, who were oddly toting their own rolling cases.
"Hey guys!" she greeted, hugging the beaming couple. "You two heading out?" she frowned.
Grinning at each other, Elena broke off looking at Stefan. "Yeah, it's sort of last-minute. We're gonna spend a few days at Shenandoah, check out the wineries and the fall foliage."
Bonnie, narrowed her eyes. "Leaf-peeping? Really Elena, I'd expect it from Stefan, but you seem a bit too enthusiastic about it." Pointing a delicate finger at her girlfriend, she stated, "You and the outdoors go together like, well vampires and sunlight…er, without the benefit of spelled rings," she waggled her fingers at her for effect.
Stefan ducked to carry her cases into the foyer, as Bonnie smiled in gratitude. "There's a new spa there that Elena's been wanting to try out. Give and take and all that, Bonnie. Damon's waiting in the den, by the way."
Unconvinced, she drawled slowly. "Uh-huh. Y'all are just gonna abandon me with him. You knowwe're still beefing, over the last skirmish we had, right? I can't believe you two. No sweet potato pie for either of you next month when I come home for Thanksgiving!"
"But, Bonnie-," they protested.
Hoping to deflect her friend's ire away from herself and her mate, Elena grinned. "It's not like you can't just zap him if he gets out of hand. Not that he will, though." she promised, crossing fingers behind her back at the white lie. If all goes as it should,Elena mused, Damon and Bonnie will getridiculouslyout of hand.
"Just what is it that you think you're trying to accomplish? Did you rig hidden cameras to catch a Bonnie/Damon Smack-down to laugh about over the holidays? It's bad enough that I have to handle him while he's practically naked." She shook her head, tousling her messy, nearly waist length curls. "Nevermind, don't wanna hear it. You two enjoy your trip," she said, giving them a parting kiss and wave.
"And the pie, Bonnie?" Stefan said, turning and giving her his version of puppy eyes.
She laughed out loud as they retreated, packing their vehicle. "Still on the menu. But Damon gets out of hand, then I'll be carving him up instead of my usual bacon-wrapped turkey."
"Understood," he said, bowing deeply from his waist.
"Courtly bastard," she muttered underneath her breath as he turned and strolled to their vehicle, unaware of the devious smile on his face.
Bonnie watched them hop into a new, dark SUV. The disgustingly happy duo waved and beeped as they drove away.
She sighed. "Well, that's just great." Blowing out a breath, she turned, walking through the open doorway.
Making her way through the yawning foyer with her cases rolling behind her, Bonnie headed towards the den. A massive fireplace, big enough to drive a Prius through, took up one wall of the room. It emanated a cheery, warm fire, and lent complementary light to the furnishings, much of which had been pushed aside to accommodate lighting, staff and other equipment.
In one of the cleared spaces of the sizable room, Damon stood, no, danced with his back to her, clad in low slung black silk drawstring pajama pants and a matching unbuttoned shirts, seemingly unaware of her presence. Bonnie closed her eyes, inhaled then let it out slowly, Buddha breathing from her abdomen.
Gathering her scattered wits about her, Bonnie began to feel a restorative sense of balance and calm, she started opening her cases, taking out the various implements of her former trade. Reviewing the call sheet, she noted that the photographer was shooting Damon for a winter month, his pale flesh was not an issue. She sent up a word of thanks to TPTB that she wouldn't have to be bronzing his entire body. Once she was set up, she turned back to her dancing subject. Yep, she thought, Damon'sdefinitelya winter.
Now, he gyrated undulating his hips in sensual movements, mimicking a nice, long and slow…Fuck! She cursed inwardly. She nearly sank to her knees to beg for mercy, when he began to sing, putting Greg Dulli's sensual voice to shame.
Pull it together, Bonnie! She admonished herself harshly. Taking hold of her breathing techniques, she once again entered a state of peace. Schooling her features to a study in ennui, she cleared her throat to get his attention.
No response. Just the continued, teasing ebb and flow of his hips.
"Damon!" Nothing.
"DAMON!"
Slowly, he gyrated around, revealing an iPod complete with noise-cancelling ear buds plugged in. Damn, Bonnie, you look good.The desire he'd been feeling for her still hummed pleasantly in his bloodstream, like an unidentifiable white noise; not enough to annoy but present enough to acknowledge, yet go on with life. He's wanted her for years, but hadn't felt a pressing need to act on it until this evening.
He smiled, full lips parting to reveal that predatory grin. Silkily, he drawled, "Hello, my witch," he said dialing the volume down with.
"Not your witch. Besides, those days are behind me," she shot back.
"My bitch, then?" he asked cocking an eyebrow skyward.
Not about to be bated when he was barely dressed, she drew upon her professional manner, which got her through not only her doctoral dissertation, but bratty photography subjects, she plastered a fake smile on her face. "Let's get started. The shoot's in two hours and we've got to get you done."
"And you're STILL a buzzkill after all these years," he growled, dismissing her and making a show of turning up the volume in his ears.
"Hey, you and the Council are the folks who asked me to rearrange my schedule and do this! Show some gratitude."
Smirking, he cooed, "Oh, I've got all the gratitude you'll ever need, baby…in my pants."
"Ass! Everything is always a game to you."
Damon spread his arms wide and smiled knowingly. "The world is my play space."
Bonnie spared him an acknowledging nod, shed her jacket and retrieved a clip to secure her errant curls, winding them around her head.
Grabbing her hands free device, she placed it about her head, expecting calls from the NIH lab and her newly-separated girlfriend, Petra, who called as the mood struck her to gripe in equal parts about the evils and deliciousness of men.
She moved about the room, testing the light with a light measure and set up various lights at different intervals throughout the space.
Bonnie shook out a plastic tarp from her kit and draped it over the floor, retrieved a nearby folding canvas chair and centered it on the tarp. Absently toeing off her shoes, she motioned for Damon to sit. He complied, still swaying, trying to catch her eye, as she shifted about the room.
"I'm going to start on your face," she murmured, hauling her huge trunk of a makeup case next to where he was seated.
Taking his face into her hands, she studied the planes of his face, struggling to avoid the hypnotic pull of his eyes. I think this is the first time I've ever touched his face, if you don't count the many times I've smacked it or tried to punch out his lights. She suddenly reared back, removing her hands and casted about for her light meter and a digital camera she kept handy.
"I think I've been summoned here on a fool's errand," she muttered, alternately taking measurements and snapping photos. "There's really nothing in or on your face which can be improved upon nor enhanced by cosmetics."
"Gotcha!" Damon shot out of his chair, pumping his fists in triumph.
Turning away from him to scrutinize some of her shots, she paused. "Oh, I see now. I just need to add a few strokes of color, so all that paleness of yours isn't washed out in the photos. The firelight totally helps."
"Lemme see that," he said, snatching up the camera. "Oh, well. Look at that."
"Just how much of you is staying covered for this shoot, anyway?" she inquired, snatching up blusher to apply to his face.
"Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. All you had to do to see me naked was ask."
She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Down, boy! I just want to get a sense for how much color we'll need to give you a healthy glow, freakbait."
Narrowing his eyes at her, he tossed her camera back to her, "Freak- Never mind. Photographer wants to start with the black shirt unbuttoned, then off, leaving me in nothing but the pants and my irresistible smile."
"Fine. Off with the shirt, then. I may need to pull out the heavy artillery to get a camera to catch your torso's definition. Hope you've laid off the Snickers and soccer moms." She quipped, snapping more pics of his upper body.
Blowing out a breath, as he shed his shirt, draping it on the back of the canvas chair. "I haven't had a tasty soccer mom in ages!"
"Good for you. Hold still, we may be a while at this."
"Tell you what cupcake. You go to work and I'm going back to the music. Stick around after you're done and I'll feed you-" she held a hand up to shush him as she picked up a call on her phone. He rolled his eyes and plugged his phones back in. He purposely kept the volume on low, so that he could better listen in on her conversation.
"This is Dr. Bennett." Bonnie answered, pulling out cosmetic paints to apply to Damon's body. "Hi, Chuck! Please tell me that dehydration synthesis has occurred in my proteins for sample U-417…Well, did the antibodies bond to it at least? …There's something, then. Try the process again and we'll give it another 72 hours and see what happens."
Chuck, Chuck. Oh, right. Fellow lab rat. Gay guy with a boyfriend named after some branch of Mathematics.Damon allowed himself a small relieved intake of breath.
"Yep. Uh-huh. Right. You're a doll! Say 'hi' to Trigg for me. 'Night," Bonnie said, signing off with Chuck.
Bonnie began to lose herself in her work and in admiration for Damon's form. She used delicate brushstrokes, applying dark shadows to his pectorals, exaggerating the definition of his chest. She sighed unconsciously, her face a mere whisper away from his flesh as she alternately used featherlike strokes of the brush and shaded and blended with her fingertips.
It's criminal that such an aggravating ass should be so damned mouth-wateringly beautiful. A demon and an angel all wrapped in this delicious package could make even the most chaste woman wantonly surrender up any and all things to the care and feeding of Damon.
Another call came in to Bonnie's phone. Quickly activating her headset, she greeted her friend.
"Hey, Pet'," she greeted in low tones.
Who the fuck is she calling 'Pet'? Damon growled internally.
"No, I think the question is, 'what are you wearing, honey'," she smiled.
You've got to be fuckin' kidding me. I should crush her phone and take her over my knee! I- Oh, Jesus…
Moving on to work the skin encasing his abdomen, she sank to her knees in front of him, unaware of the tantalizing picture she made for Damon. She blew gently now and again to get rid of the excess shadowing. Occasionally, Bonnie would lean back to survey her work before moving in again to perfect the effects of the cosmetics.
This witch is killing me with all her rubbing and blowing. I can't wait to have that delicious mouth on my skin, my nipples… my cock.
"Girl, I'm working." "Huh? Yeah, the cosmo job for the calendar." "Uh-huh, Damon," she breathed.
Oh, good, it's hergirlfriend, Petra. Damon thought, smirking inwardly. I won't have to go in search of and snap the neck of some unknown lover.
Bonnie, before responding to a query from Petra, glanced up at Damon, who quickly schooled his features in an attempt to make it seem as though he was lost in his music and unaware of her speaking, answered her friend, a whimsical smile tugging at her lips.
"Yeah, he's still as smokin' hot as ever. I would have taken him for a test drive years ago, but there's only so much hubris and bullshit a girl can take. Plus, he'd neverlet me live down the fact that he'd slept with me. Not that he'd wantto what with the whole Elena/Katherine debacle or any-female-with-a-pulse-and-operable-pussy on the menu."
Damon warmed at the thought that Bonnie found him attractive and felt the stirrings of arousal as his cock lengthened.The question is: whowouldn'tfind me attractive? Also, Doctor Witch, I've been over Elena and Katherine for some years now. And I take umbrage to that whole 'any female' comment.
"HELL no, he's insufferable!" she exclaimed, tugging him back to her conversation with Petra. "We're damned-near family, too. You definitely don't shit where you eat, especially not where Damon is concerned. Then there's that whole 'he tried to kill me once' issue. And I'm not into being cast aside once I've thrown down my card. Besides, he doesn't want me like that anyway, so it's a moot point."
Card? Damon thought. What c…get the fuck out! Damon grew instantly rock-hard, barely suppressing a growl of possessive satisfaction. He looked down, studying her incredulously. She's still a virgin? What kind of pussified men are running around Raleigh, Durham and D.C.?
As Bonnie reached his mid-section, she came to the shocking realization that Damon's cock was hard and protruding, making a tent in the dark silk of his pants.
Son of a…"Any port in a storm…" Bonnie muttered underneath her breath.
Her face, turning the hue of a caramel-coated Macintosh apple, she stood abruptly and turned to retrieve something. Approaching a nonchalant Damon, Bonnie began wrapping her arms about his waist, encasing his hips in a stiff and heavy canvas apron. That should do it.
Damn.Damon thought. I may just have to take a more direct route to getting her clothes off.
"W-what did you say, Petra?"
"No, I had to take care of something," she replied drolly.
"Yeah," she confirmed. "That. I don't know what it is with guys and getting body makeup, massage therapy or the wind kicking up from the south that gives them all wood all the damned time. This is partly why I gave this career up. Lab rats don't have the perpetual wood problem and if they did, I wouldn't know about it because we're usually wearing lab gear."
Petra asked yet another probing question, spurring Bonnie to glance again at him. Good and clueless, just how I like him.
Speaking in a low voice, Bonnie relayed, "Yep, as far as I know, the spell's still holding. I'm a null as far as he's concerned. No, it'll remain in place as long as I don't reveal it. Nope, not until I tell him and per usual, Damon's so self-absorbed he can't hear a thing."
Damon felt a small pressure 'pop' in the atmosphere around him and his senses were set ablaze. He looked down at Bonnie and realized that she was so hot, she was damned-near flirting with a fever. He could literally feel and see the heat coming off of her in waves. Damon heard the blood sing in her veins. Her eyes shone more intensely coppery-green and her hair was lustrous. And her smell…
Sweet JESUS, she smells so delectable. I'm going to eat her alive.
He could smell everything about her. The shampoo in her hair, her subtle yet expensive perfume. Most of all, he was damn near felled by the scent of her desire. His mouth literally watered in anticipation of learning what she tasted like everywhere.
Realization hit Damon like a truck.
That tricky witch!
A tic began to hammer on the side of Damon's jaw line as he stared blatantly at Bonnie. He was beyond irritated, intrigued, shocked and horny as hell for the witch and vowed to fully sate his appetite for her before the sun rose.
"Enough about me, what's new with you?" he dimly heard Bonnie ask.
Damon removed the ear buds, tossing it and his iPod aside. Sizing her up like a predator after prey, he gently grasped her face with one hand, pinning her with his heated ice-blue gaze and removed her phone.
Bonnie sputtered, trying to flick him away, "Damon, what the f-"
Speaking into the receiver, he said "Thank you, Petra. Bonnie will talk to you tomorrow."
Never breaking eye-contact with Bonnie, he clicked off, but not before his sensitive ears heard tinny peals of good-natured laughter coming out of the phone, along with the firm admonishment, "Play nice, Damon."
Dropping Bonnie's phone to the tarp, he cradled her face which was trapped in his hands, he stood over her kneeled form and demanded, "How long?"
Bonnie searched his face, highly confused yet slightly alarmed. "How long what?"
"How long have you been holding out on me? On us? How long have you had this spell up and running?"
"Damon-" she began to backpedal. Oh, shit! That sneaky, eavesdropping fucker!
In a deceptively calm voice, he said, "Answer me, Bonnie."
Bonnie acquiesced, breathing out, "Ten years."
Damon's expression grew thunderous. "I have a general idea about what this spell does, but humor me and let me hear it from your own treacherous lips," he demanded, ripping Bonnie's makeshift cockblock-cum canvas-chastity-belt from about his waist. He felt like he had to busy his hands with a task before he wrapped his around her to throttle her. Casting his eyes about the room, he seized on a package of wipes and began to remove the makeup from his body.
An explanation nervously tumbled from her lips. "The spell has two parts. One part, directed at the target, namely you, sort of has a dampening effect on the senses of that individual when ever in the presence of the focus, me, of the second part. You just don't experience my physical presence as strongly. Your heightened vampire sense of me is dulled to be like that of any other human."
Damon's expression darkened, as he seethed. "Why?"
Bonnie flung her arms out, gesticulating exasperation, and rose to her feet to face him. "Because I don't want to sleep with you and be just another nameless, faceless body in your list of conquests. Because there is just too much history between our families. Because I saw what you and Elena and Stefan went through because of your obsession with Katherine. Because I want to be able to continue to come home to visit and be able to hold my head up without shame or have you treat me with that same callous indifference you showed to Caroline. Because I never wanted to have to try to resist you, fail miserably, only to wake up with you gone or staring at me with that omniscient smirk on your face."
Bonnie bowed her head, avoiding his eyes and whispered. "My body may want you, but my head, heart and gut screams 'No.'"
Damon's eyes closed, his face in what looked like a pained grimace. Opening his eyes slowly, he directed a heavy-lidded stare at her. In low tones, "Do you know how much I'm fighting between ripping your clothes off and taking you over my knee for the spanking you so VERY much deserve or ripping your clothes off and sinking myself so deep into you that a thousand of your cleansing baths could never rid you of my claim?"
Bonnie looked up into his face, nearly shouting, "Damn you, Damon! This is EXACTLY the reason for this spell. I had to protect myself! Don't you get that?"
Damon reached out, closing the distance between them, skimming the smooth perfection of the skin of her face with the back of one hand. "No. Bonnie. You owe me this. We should have had the ten years. After Katherine's return, I began to understand my obsession and made peace with it. Some part of me has always watched you, wondered and wanted you, but you seemed so immune and indifferent. I've always wanted you, above and beyond any spell you could cast."
Bonnie instantly played back in her mind all those times she'd been alone with Damon and he never tried to take advantage of her or kill her. She recalled all the moments when she'd bested him verbally and he not once struck out in violence. Bonnie's memory flitted through those odd moments of tenderness and affection he'd shown her: an ancient ceremonial knife for her 18th birthday, helping her unpack her dorm on her first day of college, chaperoning her on her 21st so that no harm befell her, the ridiculously expensive jewelry left for her 'anonymously' when she graduated high school, undergrad, then graduate school. Musing, she'd fondly recalled the snarkily terse note once she'd earned her doctorate: 'Enough with the fucking schooling, witch! The family vault's running low on baubles. I may have to drain someone just to keep you in jewels.' She remembered the many meals he'd cooked for her, the thoughtful takeout or comfort food he brought when she was sick. 'Not that I actually care, I just need you hale and hearty to work this spell for me.'
"Damon, please don't," she begged with her mouth, but she leaned into his stroking of her face, like a cat craving her master's caressing affection.
Damon closed his eyes, hissing on an inhalation of breath. "You smell so goddamned GOOD, Bonnie," he groaned.
Everything in Bonnie began to thaw, soften and melt. She tried to put up her mental shields and protested.
"Damon, the crew and the photographer-"
"Aren't coming. The actual shoot isn't until next month."
Damn.
She looked at him. "Stefan and Elena-"
"…were in on this, too." He smirked. "Apparently the email correspondence between Elena and Petra has been fast and furious."
"I don't understand how they figured it out. Petra's been under a geis not to speak to anyone about the spell except me…"
"Wait for it…"
"Dammit!" she sighed in realization.
"That didn't hurt your pride too badly, did it?" Damon grinned in satisfaction.
Bonnie gave him a frowning side-eye, "Still not letting you talk me into this, Damon."
"I crave you and you're not leaving my bed for at least a week." He countered.
"I'm not going to let you do this."
Damon stopped touching her face grabbed her upper arms in his hands, giving her a little shake. Eyeing her fiercely he said heatedly, "You had no right to do this to me, Bonnie. This bill has come due."
"I owe you nothing, Damon!" she snarled, trying to pull away from him.
"And my Bonnie is wrong yet again. You owe me ten years, woman! And you're forgetting I'm a damned predator: I take what I want, when I want. What I want is you," he said decisively.
Ominous silence stretched between them as they stared at each other waiting to see whose will would crumble first.
Suddenly, he released his hold on her, giving her a light shove away from himself. Tilting his head sideways, he changed tactics, eyeing her knowingly. "Alright. You can walk out of here tonight on one condition."
"Name it." Bonnie parried, squaring her shoulders, spirits lifting in anticipation of getting away from Damon.
"Panties."