AN: one shot! Smut. You know the drill.

things he can't do with elena

There were certain things Damon could not do with Elena.

Being a vampire had brought out the vixen in his new minx of a girlfriend. She embraced her new existence with a whole-hearted zeal he had not seen since… well, since him. And of course, he was proud of her. He wouldn't deny her her self-discovery. She celebrated her sins – especially gluttony. And lust. And she was indiscriminate – in his opinion – in choosing her partners. Yes, partners. The new vampire life was not one of monogamy.

Not that Damon minded.

In fact, he preferred it this way.

To each, their own discretions. She didn't ask, and he wouldn't tell. Which worked, because whatever this thing was he had going with the little Gilbert would not work if Elena knew that the anonymous vixen whose legs he currently had his face between was none other than her former best friend, Bonnie Bennett.

Try not to eat the homecoming queen, indeed.

Bonnie was no longer the sweet, naïve Bennett she once was. Dying would do that to you. And she didn't even get to come back like they did – immortal, unstained by age or human weakness. She was all human. Blood and soft, warm flesh and all.

Yup, there were some things for which Elena would just not suffice.

"Are you…" Damon withdrew his face an inch, peered up at the little witch who seemed annoyed above him. His brows raised, and he even dared to smirk as she pinned him with her eyes and let out a huff of air. Arrogant, even now. "Are you doing this, or what?"

"Impatient," Damon replied, and he had half a mind to release his grip on her ass, underneath her impossibly short skirt. He had just begun to peel back those dorky yellow panties when she interrupted him. He could hear her heart pounding in anticipation – heck, he could smell her anticipation – from the pulse pounding in her thighs. He paused to rub his face, ever so slowly, against one before hooking it over his shoulder. He placed a long, open-mouthed kiss over the other, pausing to nip at her skin. "Relax," he said, running a fang across the seam of her underwear until they split. In its place, he lay a long lick. "Enjoy it."

"That's not the point," Bonnie huffed out again. He imagined, if she didn't need her hands to hold her up against the wall, elbows all awkward in near-impossible balance, she would be crossing them. And if she didn't need to bite back that lip as he traced her curves with his lips, she would be lecturing him.

"Isn't it?" he murmured against her. She shuddered and clenched her teeth. They both pretended not to notice.

"That's," he made her breath hitch deliberately, pulling a moan from her as finally he placed that wicked mouth where she wanted it most. She almost fell against him as one hand fell from the wall to tug at his hair. His grip on her tightened – he could hold the witch up with one hand, if he wanted to. But he'd never let her know that, because she wouldn't let him massage her thighs, like this – another moan. He paused to observe his glistening handiwork with a smirk. She took the opportunity to catch her breath and conclude – "Just a side-effect."

Damon's gaze was menacing as he looked up at her. Disheveled, blouse half-on, half-off, with her long hair cascading in curls over one shoulder. Her lips were puffy from their kisses, her eyes hooded. But her mouth – which, he was sure, could perform miracles – was running again in ways that made him only see red. He wiped the blood from his lips.

"This is a business transaction," Bonnie reminded him. She was saying that more and more lately.

How exactly it had started between them almost a year before, Damon couldn't precisely remember. It was all too fast. And the blood was too good. Orgasmic, even. She was into some kind of magic, he didn't even want to know. Well, he did, sometimes – but he wouldn't ask, just to give her another chance to tell him to piss off. She didn't want the trappings of her monthly cycle.

But Damon did. Damon could lap it up forever, because every drip she dropped was a delicacy.

But oh, how she ran that damn mouth…

"Really," Damon grunted, gripping her more tightly about the legs. He ran his hand up and down her, familiar with her body in a way she didn't want to think about.

Elena and she were no longer friends. She no longer felt guilt about the girl she gave her life to make happy. Sometimes, she thought, she barely felt at all. Bonnie didn't want to have anything to do with nature when this started. The more she averted anything to do with the moon, with womanhood, with her birthrights… the easier she could hide from the spirits. So, she went looking for a cure.

And, accidently, found Damon.

And well, he did the trick.

Damon moved back, and she could see her blood fresh on his lips.

Deliberate. She rolled her eyes.

"Seems to me, I get the same payment every time," He licked his lips and smirked, "But you enjoy your half more and more."

Bonnie's grip loosened in his hair. He frowned. Didn't like that.

"If this is getting complicated," she moved to swing her leg off of him.

He stopped her, pressing her more firmly against the wall in seconds. He was on his knees, kneeling before her, one brown leg over his shoulder and the other dangling on the floor. He swiped his tongue over her, spread her legs open, and kissed his little bird senseless.

The thing with Bonnie was, there was only one thing that could shut her up, properly. Turn her words and, presumably, thoughts to mush. And that was Damon Salvatore and his incomparable tongue.

He licked up her blood, growling with pleasure as her hips began to betray her by shifting towards him every time he might pull away. She tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, even as her legs began to tingle. Her toes grew numb, curled and cracked. She threw her head against the wall, eyes closed. Her breaths, panting, were senseless though they entwined with what she could only guess was her voice.

Damon.

She said his name, and her blood tasted sweeter. So much better. So much wetter. He sucked and pulled at her, ran his tongue along every fold, teased every drop of ambrosia from the goddess.

Damon!

It was quiet, but it was there. That little chant of hers that was almost as addicting as her body.

One more cry, a few more sobbing prayers.

Damon's grip was tight against her now, directing her hips and squeezing every bit of her flesh he could. If she would let him, he would run his hands up her stomach and tear the blouse from her entirely. He would kiss, and nick, and nip and lick, his way to those full, glorious lips. He would press her against this wall, tell her how fucking beautiful she was when she came, when her brow furrowed and she called his name. He would bury his face inside that lovely neck, and hold her back in his wide, long-fingered hands. He would slide inside her and, if he felt generous, cry her name.

Bonnie.

Bonnie came in a series of sobbing breaths. She bent forward, leaning over him. He felt her panting breath against the back of his neck.

His hands were still knotted in her skirt, and the pair of panties that clung together by a thread over one leg. The blood was gone. Devoured. She would continue, manipulating her inherited link to nature, the moon, the ancestors, and forget him.

Another month.

Counting days.

Waiting until she gave him that look, she let out that scent, and he was free to pursue her again.

Maybe if Elena hadn't turned… Maybe if she was still as soft, and hot and wet as Bonnie. As human, with her thudding heart and uncontrollable cries. Her petit mort.

Bonnie's nails trailed against his scalp, and Damon closed his eyes.

Maybe not.

Damon leaned forward and continued his torturous kiss. He felt her gasp against his skin now, felt the moment when her lax fingers grew tight and her grip strong. She shuddered against him, and he showed his appreciation with his tongue.

"Damon…" Bonnie said, her voice cracking on his name. A warning? A plea?

"Bonnie," he replied, and was startled by how deep and rough his own voice sounded. He wanted her. But more than that, he wanted…

"Aren't we…" Bonnie started, fisting her other hand in his shirt as another orgasm began building at the apex of her legs, "done…?"

"Don't you ever," Damon spoke into her body. One hand moved from her ass to better support her weight. Her breasts, as she breathed, rubbed against him and, not for the first time, he wondered… "Want more?"

"Yes!" Bonnie cried unwittingly as his free hand found her folds and began, slowly, to rub.

She felt his grin against her skin, but didn't care. She would blame it on hormones. She was always particularly in need at this time. More so, since she started terminating her periods early. Or rather, since she started this thing with Damon…? Bonnie didn't have time to consider it further as his skilled hands picked up speed.

She was panting again, calling his name. "Oh," she grunted, clenching his body against her, her chest almost upside down against his solid, beautiful back, "God!"

One slow finger became two.

She was deliciously wet. She called his name, cried it against his skin. She was gripping his shirt frantically, pulling it up at the hem as she writhed against him. He was knuckle deep in her, and he was torn between appreciating how wonderfully tight she was, and how excruciatingly tempting the sensation of her hot breath muttering his name against his bare skin was. He wished they were naked.

Damon picked up his speed, and added his thumb against the tiny pulse between her legs. Bonnie was a mess of nerves. He didn't know – did he? He couldn't. She thought everything Damon did was on purpose – especially in bed. He would never…

And yet, he was. Damon was muttering her name, whispering endearments against her as he kissing and nipped at her stomach and hips. What was he saying… She tried to focus, between the heat that flushed through her body, and her own senseless mutterings…

My wicked witch, he said. He chewed lightly on her hip bone, careful not to break her skin. He ran his tongue against her cut lines. Come for me.

And so, she did.