AN: After hearing James Arthur beautiful lyrics, I thought it would be fun to recapture the theme of the song in a Kol and Bonnie fanfic. They've always been one of my favorite pairings and since there is not nearly enough fics about them floating around out there, I wanted to add my contribution to the Kennett vault. So please be gentle. It's my first time, you know!
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me, but I plan to play with them anyway.
Say You Won't Let Go
Kol Mikaelson's gums throbbed to release his fangs. The familiar burn of eternal hunger assaulted the back of his throat. He ached to tear into something soft and bursting with life. For what was sweeter than prey who believed to be on the cusp of greatness? Nothing compared to the coppery taste of hopes and dreams. He couldn't count how many mistresses he'd drained over the centuries. What could he say? Their hopes and dreams for an infinite future with him often became too tempting to resist.
His poor, social climbing, beauties. For a short time, he'd elevated them from the gutter, but eventually returned them there as a final resting places of sorts. It was a vicious cycle really. He'd done it so much in London, they'd taken to calling him the Whitechapel Butcher. Best month of his life until Nik showed up with a dagger in hand. He'd spent a decade in the box that time. All because he dared to 'live' out loud.
Niklaus could be quite the prig when no one was looking. More so than Elijah, who spent more time with his tailor than the great loves he was always on about. It was quite sad when predators donned costumes and pretended to be prey. Here it was a century later and his brothers still masqueraded as sheep. Pathetic! It was no wonder he'd went along with Beka's inane plan to kill her date. Restlessness has always driven him to be more…creative. Once, he'd even compelled Nik's favorite painter to cut off his ear in an attempt to break up the monotony. Boredom and hunger were two things he refused to abide. Immortality was just way too long to sit in silence and stare at a wall. He'd rather kill time in a box.
The scorching in his throat, pulled him from his musings. If Kol didn't find sustenance soon, he'd set a random house on fire and grab the first human to run outside. His need to drain—in the very least—half of Mystic Falls' meager population could be equated to the thirst of a newborn vampire's. After being locked in a box for over one hundred years, control could be a slippery bitch. Even for an Original vampire.
Desiccation for any period of time had a way of reestablishing control issues he'd all but mastered in his first century of vampirism. Yet, that was neither here nor there. He could feed himself into a stupor and still not feel a twinge over the blood spilled to sate his hunger. His insatiable need to gorge himself on Mystic Falls' finest had more to do with rage than control or desiccation. The urge to disfigure and maim could only be attributed to the overbearing shrew he had the misfortune of calling mother.
Ester was back among the living, with all of hell (and Finn) nipping at her heels; all while claiming, she wanted nothing more than to heal their family. Well how fucking rich! When not even twenty minutes before he'd witnessed Ester's tongue become a razor blade. The singular purpose? Slashing him a new one of course. And why pray tell, would an allegedly loving mother want to mentally injure her youngest son? Over a human. Rebekah's human, no less! For it was no secret, his darling baby sister collected inferior lovers the same way spinsters collected cats.
No matter, mommy dearest still proceeded to castrate him through verbal means. Spouting phrases like: Why can't you be more like Finn and Elijah, or nonsense such as: Why even Niklaus managed to tame his savage nature for the duration of the evening, his favorite, however, was: those beasts that wail at the full moon each month show more restraint than you, my depraved child? And on it went until his ears bled from her cutting remarks and biting criticisms, all while Nik looked on with brows that nearly disappeared into his hairline and a smirk which most certainly assured: You're an idiot, Kol.
The memory elicited a low growl. Kol's fingers curled in to tight fists in the pockets of his tuxedo jacket. Saliva pooled in his mouth. The scorching at the back his throat intensified. Burning deprivation gnawed on his rib cage. Tonight Ester would be responsible for the slaughter of dozens. Preferably witches. Blonde witches with sharp tongues. He could almost taste… His nose twitched. Cheap perfume and bottom shelf Vodka assaulted his nostrils. Two distinct heartbeats collided with his ears. A slow grin pushed at the corners of Kol's mouth. The hunt was on. He picked up his pace, walking only slightly faster than the average human. Not long after, a couple of young harlots came into view not even two miles ahead.
A frown wrinkled his forehead, as he watched them stagger their way across Old Hickory Bridge towards a warehouse at the edge of town. They chortled like hyenas, while rubbish spewed from their lips as they went. He scoffed. Honestly, it made no sense. Why were they making this easy for him? Wenches of this time obviously had no real awareness of self-preservation. The drunken pair before him, clearly spurned life and courted death. For such an offense, they deserved to reap the consequences of their folly. To think, vampires were referred to as abominations. Daft humans were the true affront against nature. Tonight he planned to restore the balance by ripping into their foolish necks. Besides, Elijah said, overpopulation had become a problem. He would be doing a global service.
Kol's thrill for the hunt may have been dampened by the idiotic humans bellowing about rude boys from the bottoms of their lungs, but unfortunately his thirst had not. The hollow within still demanded to be filled and though they weren't witches, their lifeblood was as good as any. Even if his senses warned of there being more Vodka coursing through their vessels than blood. No matter, a stiff drink would take the edge off.
At vampire speed he raced ahead, stopping within arm's reach of the barely standing duo. Before he could drag his spoils into the nearby forest, a decadently delectable fragrance forced its way up his nose, and then slowly crawled down the back of his throat. His nostrils flared, while his tongue smacked the roof of his mouth. Witch blood. Such a scent should've turned him rabid. A trail of bloodless corpses should've been left in his wake as he pursued the origins of that bewitching attar. Instead it tempered the breathtaking blood lust that had plagued him for over a millennium.
No better than a baited fish on a hook, he allowed the soothing essence to reel him towards the entrance of the warehouse. All the while ignoring the outraged hisses of the trollops as he ruthlessly pushed his way pass their rocking frames. At the entryway of the establishment a rather large human of the male persuasion attempted to place a hand on Kol's person. In the glint of an eye he snapped the wrist of the offending appendage.
With dilated pupils, Kol glared at the hulking mass towering over him. "Go take a dive off of Old Hickory Bridge, Mate." The man nodded, before turning towards the door. Not quite done with him yet, Kol stepped in his path as a smirk firmly twisted his lips. "And if you know how to swim, forget you do."
The scent he'd first caught hint of outside, thickened. It coated his tongue in a brazen invitation. Cunningly pilfering his attention yet again. Even as string instruments and drums clashed together in an unfortunate merger, and multiple soiled bodies wreathed together to release odors nothing short of impressively foul, that one enchanting fragrance still beseeched and beguiled him to find its source. The golden glow from the bar however, rendered the haunt unnecessary. For their, perched on a stool among the beer guzzlers and tequila shooters, the queen of sirens sat sipping a thimble of what smelt to be scotch and soda. Deep crimson fabric caressed her hills, dips, and curves from shoulders to mid-thigh. Bloody hell! Was that supposed to be a gown? The chit was nearly naked. A hundred years ago the dress would've gotten her arrested. Not to mention, fucked, bitten, and drained. He had to have her.
Warmth blossomed in the pit of Kol's gut and radiated throughout his body. Wisps of energy slithered over him in a probing fashion. For a moment he tolerated the invasion until the mystical force attempted to enter his mind. The steel door slammed closed on his thoughts. If her magic took even a peep at the inner workings of his psyche it would perceive him as a threat. A predator, born and bred from the depths of hell and it wouldn't be wrong. He was vile and there was no getting around that fact.
Still not done with its investigation, her sorcery penetrated every pore on the surface of his skin and lit him up, giving light to every darkened cell in his body. Elements, which lay dormant in him for over a thousand years sparked to life and pulsed through his vessels. Something felt off…or maybe something felt right? Either way he had no desire to reflect upon the eccentricity of it all. No, all of his desire belonged to the glowing goddess at the bar. The attraction to be near her overwhelmed and ordered his steps until he stood almost half a meter too close to her. And even though he had an extensive vocabulary, superior really. Every single dastardly word he'd ever learned over the course of his very long existence, escaped him. Niklaus was right. His was a bloody idiot.
Bonnie sat at the bar content to mind her own business and get, Caroline and Elena, wasted. For one night she didn't want to hear, a fucking thing, about Original Vampires, doppelgangers, hybrids, nor the blood which needed to be used to successfully transition a werewolf into a hybrid. For all intents and purposes she wanted to be left the hell alone. If the Salvatore's even thought about showing their faces at that Rave, she would stake both of their asses on general principle. Elena would just have to learn how to survive without her favorite boy toys.
"What can I get ya, Sweet Cakes?" A bartender asked as he leaned into her from across the bar.
Bonnie rolled her eyes at the name, and then took in the man's clean cut appearance, muddy brown aura, and skin crawling vibe. Dude was creepier than a bucket of snakes and she was far from interested, but as long as he knew how to pour liquor into a glass he and she would get along just fine.
"Bourbon, rocky," she said, casting a glance over the warehouse. On conclusion of her assessment, she wrinkled her nose over the findings. The place lacked talent. Shit she should've worn a t-shirt and jeans, instead of Caroline's uncomfortable—freak something—dress.
"Sorry, honey," he said, giving her a crooked grin, which silently conveyed his lack of remorse. "There's only beer and Tequila for the kiddies. So what's your poison?"
She nodded her head towards the shelf behind him. "I'll take whatever is in that bottle up there."
"The Macallan." The bartender snorted.
Bonnie lifted an eyebrow. Her stare unflinching.
His eyes bugged at her audacity. "That's a twenty-five year old single malt scotch. Trust me. Your parent's pennies aren't that pretty."
"It's fine," she said, producing the credit card her dad gave her for emergencies.
With a smirk the bartender shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It'll be a hundred and seventy five dollars."
Bonnie's eyes nearly crossed. "Oh no you're mistaken. I don't want the bottle."
"For a glass, Sweet Cakes."
"Good, a steal," she forced through a stiff lip smile, refusing to back down even though she knew her pride was setting her up for a serious tumble. "Charge the card under miscellaneous items, please." Reluctantly, she slid the card across the counter.
After the barkeeper charged her credit, he used a dirty towel to wipe out a shot glass, and then splashed a swallow of scotch in the tiny tumbler. "Enjoy." Instead of moving on to the teens down the way, who were practically climbing on the make shift counter to get his attention, he focused on her until the clinging of glass breaking drew his gaze back to the sloppy drunk teenage girls. "Damn it, Samantha and Krysta. Take a walk before I call security." He then, folded his arms across his chest and continued to watch her.
She clenched her back teeth together to restrain herself from uttering the words that would set his disrespectful ass on fire. For the amount she'd paid for the scotch, he should've been kissing her feet, but no. Instead he chose to stare at her as if he expected her to strip down, climb on the bar and shake it fast. The nerve! Did she look like Diamond from the Playa's Club to him? She is Bonnie Freaking Bennett.
The same Bonnie Bennett who dropped a certain hybrid to his knees. It was her mercy Klaus pleaded for as he rolled and twitched in the dirt. Not Damon nor Stefan and damn sure not Sweet Cakes! Pissed beyond belief, her magic rushed from her center shot down her arms to pool in her hands. More than ready to spark a bitch. Those problems however, were not the ones she wanted. So in the spirit of a bullshit free night, she needed to get her issues together. Quick!
Without weighing actions against consequences, Bonnie snatched the shot glass from the bar and downed the contents to calm her dissecting nerves. Wrong damn answer. Scotch had one hell of a bite. Not only did it snatch open every sinus in her face, but it lit a blaze down the back of her throat, which bottomed out in the pit of her stomach. Seriously, she would be shitting flames for weeks.
The bartender threw his head back and howled almost louder than the music coming from the DJ's speakers. Once his cackles partially subsided, he splashed a little more scotch in the glass. He ignored all Bonnie's gestures to stop him. "No worries. This one's on the house." Snickering, he squirted two skeets of club soda in the drink. "How about sipping this one, Sweet Cakes?" That parting shot, he tossed over his shoulder as he swaggered down the bar to wait on his other costumers.
Bonnie hurled, Satan inspired, glares at the bartender's back even as she took his advice and slowly sipped her scotch. After several minutes of licking the scattered wounds on her pride, she relaxed and concentrated on getting her drink on. She wanted to hit the dance floor and she needed liquid courage to do so. Not that she was a bad dancer, but she wanted to lose her inhibitions and see where the evening took her. Maybe she'd meet a Daniel Gillies look alike and get her back blown out or maybe she'd end up on her bathroom floor worshiping the porcelain goddess, while crying a river over unresolved daddy issues. Who knew? The night was young. It could go either way.
As she picked up the glass to take another sip her steady hands gave way to a tremble as her heart rate began to imitate the rapidly flapping wings of a humming bird. A light sting of heat upon her cheek, provoked her magic to slowly seep from the minute openings on her body and radiate over the surface of her skin. Normally, when her powers responded like this, it meant Klaus was in the building. Yet, this time somehow felt different. Even though her powers were at the forefront ready to be commanded, her magic didn't feel threatened. In fact, the surge of energy almost felt a bit flirtatious. If that made any sense.
Aware of the major paranormal disturbance invading her personal space, Bonnie cut a dirty look at the gaze, which fastened itself to her cheek and caused so much upheaval in her magic. She heard a sharp intake of air as hot chocolate brown irises took possession of her eyes and refused to let go. For a full minute or maybe two, they stared at each other without the benefit of words, until she tore her gaze away to take in his aura. A beautiful vibrant turquoise wafted away from him to tentatively mingle with her golden life force.
Bonnie regarded their auras for a moment, not missing the thin thread of scarlet, which announced his vampirism. Normally, if the thread was that fine it could mean one of two things. Either the vampire was newly turned or ridiculously ancient. Judging by the hue of his primary color, he'd been a witch before becoming the undead. A powerful one too. Since she didn't see him maintaining such a level of brilliance to his primary life force, she'd bet dollars to air he'd recently died. Her vision blurred. For some insane reason the thought of him departing from nature swamped her in grief. The hell? It must be the alcohol.
She opened and closed her eyes to blink away the tears, before dragging her gaze back to his. "May I help you?"
Well what should he say to that? Why yes, my darling. Come away with me to partake in some vigorous sex and blood play. Damn it, Kol! Just bloody compel the chit and get on with your eternity. A voice, which sounded suspiciously like Nik's, whispered from a dark tawdry corner of his debauched mind. If that was indeed a possibility don't you think we'd be halfway back to the mansion by now? She's a witch you blithering idiot. Was his mental reply.
"Can I help you?" She asked again with a little more forcefulness as she held him hostage with those impossibly green irises.
"You can if you allow me to procure you a drink," he answered, finally finding his words.
"Um…" She held up a tiny glass filled with barely a swallow of scotch. "All set, thanks anyway. So if you don't-,"
"Why, that's hardly enough to imbue a thimble," he said as he sat on the stool next to hers. "Here, allow me." Kol held out the metal black card Nik had given him earlier that morning. "How about opening an account for me, Mate?" With a tilt of the head Kol gestured towards the bottle of scotch. "Begin by adding the Macallan to the check." Dismissing the barkeep, his gaze drifted back to the delectable witch at his side.
Her mystical eyes slid over him, slow and precise in their appraisal. Upon conclusion a smirk corrupted her enticing mouth. "Which is it? Wedding or funeral?"
"Am I to pretend, I know what you're on about, my darling?" He asked unable to stop himself from leaning even further into her.
"One, don't call me, my darling, it's condescending. Two, personal space is a right not a privilege. And three, this is a pop up rave at the edge of town, in a warehouse of all places. Black tie is not required."
Amusement hitched the corner of his mouth as he watched the tiny siren who could easily be mistaken for a queen. "One," Kol began. The witch stiffened. He raised a hand to put her at ease, and then resumed. "The phrase was not utilized for a tool of condescension. In fact, there was a period in time when it was nothing more than a term of endearment spoken between lovers and friends."
"Term of endearment?" The enchantress smirked, while folding her arms beneath her small but perfectly rounded bosom. "Lovers and friends. Well we're getting ahead of ourselves aren't we?"
Oh darling. They were nowhere near as far as he wanted them to be. If left to him they would be at one of his properties in Monte Carlo. She would be naked as strips of crimson fabric littered the floor of his bedroom. Their coupling would have her gasping for air as she worked assiduously to keep up with each of his thrusts. The witch's eyes narrowed as if she had a peep hole into his mind.
Kol pressed his lips together to suppress a grin. "Two, I apologize for encroaching any boundaries you have erected, but I fear it is only in your personal space I can truly breathe."
The witch snorted. "Well it's a good thing you don't need oxygen to survive."
The minx. This time Kol did grin, while obsessing over the alluring glint in emerald jade toned irises. "Three," he reluctantly broke eye contact to glance around the warehouse. "What's a Rave?"
If his question surprised her, it didn't reflect upon her face. She just merely shrugged, before finishing off the last bit of scotch in her tiny glass. "It's like a party, where people get together to either dance, drink, trip, or roll. In some people cases…," she nodded her head in the direction of the dance floor. Kol arched a mocking brow. The harlots who were almost his late night snack, were in the middle of the designated dance area making a bloody spectacle of themselves. "All of the above. Most cities don't have them anymore, but being this is Mystic Falls and the only other club is an hour and a half outside of town, a Rave revival was in order."
"Ah, like the bordellos of Paris," Kol said, remembering one of the few taboo decadences of the Victorian era. Vicki was no fun after she ascended to the throne. She became quite long winded, actually. On again and again, about duty and propriety. Her son however… "Bertie," he snorted, at the memories. "What a riot. I tell you, he was the best of that lot. Almost turned him twice."
"In what way does this Rave remind you of a whore house in Paris?" When he opened his mouth to answer, she covered his lips with the palm of her hand. "You know what? I'm not touching that one."
No longer able to continue demonstrating restraint, he pressed a kiss in the center of her hand. She snatched the appendage away as if she'd been burned.
"Well you would've had to have been there, Love." He smiled, warmed by a sense of triumph. He affected her, but then again, how could he not?
She grabbed one of the tumblers the barkeep brought over with the bottle of scotch. Then she waited as Kol poured the bronzed liquid in the glass.
"If we're gonna share a two thousand dollar bottle of scotch, this should probably be the time we exchange names."
"Of course, Enchanting One," Kol sat the bottle down to give her his undivided consideration. "I'm…" His name dissolved on his tongue before it could dare cross his lips. Rebekah's voice floated to the forefront of his mind: Everyone in this town despises our family because of Nik. That doppelganger wench of his, even went as far as to stab me in the back. Quite literally, Brother. No, no, no! It simply wouldn't do for this bewitching siren to hate him over his familial ties. "Leopold." He lied with all the ease of truth.
The temptress blinked. "Leo- who?"
"Leopold, but I have no objections to being called Leo," He said, magnanimously. "Now it's your turn. Please, tell me the name of the woman who has stopped my world from spinning."
Disbelief marred her exquisite features. "Beyoncé," she said, her tone flat.
"Ah, why that's a lovely name. Is it French?"
"I have no idea," she said, before taking another sip for her glass.
He opened his mouth to say more, but when a songstress began wailing and wondering, if it was bad to never have made love even though she was an exceptionally adequate lay, Beyoncé yelled that was her song and snatched the Macallan from the bar and beckoned for him to follow her to the designated dance area. Kol did so without a word of complaint.
Normally, when a vampire touched Bonnie, an icy chill slid through her veins, her skin prickled and slithered over her body in the most repulsive way, which led to the bubble guts, only to conclude with visions so horrendous they could earn the Texas Chainsaw Massacre a G-rating in comparison. The funny thing is though, when Leo slid his hands over her hips to guide her on the dance floor, the complete opposite happened.
Instead of an icy chill, warmth resonated throughout her body. The icky rumbling, which signaled for her to make a mad dash to the restroom, didn't assault her stomach, however a delicious tightening in her lower abdomen did. Almost making her feel as if she was a few thigh rubs away from a major blow out. And the visions! Well don't even get her started on the visions. They were still triple X rated, but for a whole other set of reasons. Just thinking about the promise her visions made about them, provoked her to take a swig from the bottle as she began to slow grind to the beat of Wale's, 'Bad'. She squeezed her eyes shut as she withstood the deliberate burn sliding down the back of her throat. After a few glasses of the liquid heat, Bonnie had begun to discover there was more bark than actual bite to the twenty-five year old liquor.
"Are you planning to share, Lovely?" Leo asked as he pumped into her ass to the beat of the song.
Surprisingly, as far as melanin challenged boys went, he had a keen understanding of rhythm. Maybe he should teach a class and invite the Salvatore brothers to attend, Bonnie mused as she passed him the bottle. After the Macallan was in his possession, she leaned forward and shook her ass at him, before dropping it, and then bringing it back up again. Slinging her hips from side to side, she bounced around to face him. The look of shock and need going pound for pound on his face, had her fingers itching for the camera on her phone. And don't think she missed the hint of fang peeping from beneath his top lip, either. Usually, if a vampire tried her by flashing fang, she would've turned their ass into bonfire, but not with him. No, the sight of his brought out the kink in her. Blame on her visions or the alcohol. She definitely was feeling a way.
Leo slid his arm around her waist, and tugged her to him. On their own accord her arms wound themselves around his neck. Damn she was tipsy. She didn't know him from the bartender. And yeah he said his name was Leo-something, but that clearly was a lie. It wouldn't have taken him so long to answer if Leo was truly his name. So with no reliable information forthcoming from him, the only data she had to go on was context clues. Which were: A British accent that had, no doubt, done irrevocable damage to the crotch of her panties. An old worldly vibe, which reminded her of the Tudors. He seemed relaxed in his own skin, so there went her newborn vampire assumption. Last but the most important clue of all, the three thousand dollar Armani tuxedo that appeared to have been custom made to hug every hard plain and edge of all that body. Wasn't the Original Witch's ball that night?
Before she could add one plus one together and step back with two, someone bumped her from behind. The expression on Leo's face darkened as he glared over her shoulder. She angled herself to see what had pissed him off.
"Bon!" A brunette girl named Krysta from school yelled over the music. "Oh my god. Can't believe you finally came," she said, tugging her away from Leo to give her a hug, but Bonnie had the sneaking suspicion Krysta was actually using her to hold herself up.
"Bon." A tall strawberry blonde came to a stop right next to them. "See Krysta. Told you it was Bon-Bon. We spotted you at the other end of the bar. Is Dullena and Freak-a-zoid Forbes here too?" she asked, glancing around the dance floor.
"Now, Samantha-"
"Look, Krysta," Samantha said, cutting her, the hell, off. "It's the jerk who almost ran us down in the parking lot. Where exactly was the fire, Jackass?"
"There wasn't even a line," Krysta sniffed.
"Leo?" Bonnie questioned, feigning sympathy. She really didn't put too much thought into Samantha and Krysta's claims. They'd spent almost all of their high school experience in a drunken and drug induced haze.
"My apologies, ladies," Leo said in a low voice that seethed with a, 'don't fuck with me' vibe.
"Fuck off with your apologies, Doctor Who." Samantha snapped. "If you really wanna apologize. Nothing says sorry like bottle service."
"Samantha," Bonnie cried, not at all surprised by Sam's candor. She could be petty and vindictive when the mood struck. And when the hell did the Warehouse get bottle service? They didn't even have waitresses.
Krysta shook a tiny baggy of pills in her face. "We got party favors, Bon."
"You know…I think we're good for now Krys." Bonnie declined as she watched Samantha snake the scotch from Leo, and then turn the bottle up like she was guzzling down water.
After she finished she passed the bottle to Krysta, before leveling Leo with a glare. "Now about that bottle service."
"Sam-," Bonnie began.
"It's fine, lovely." He cupped Bonnie's cheek in his hand, while gazing down into her face. "I have an open account. They can order whatever they like."
"Apology accepted," Samantha said clapping her hands together.
Krysta handed the Macallan back to Bonnie with a dubious smirk perched on her glossy mouth. "Later, Bon." She licked her lips as her gaze moved over Leo, before flicking back to hers. "He's hot. I'd so play with his anaconda if I were you."
"You're such a whore, Krysta." Samantha grinned. "You'd fuck every last one of the Wiggles if the opportunity presented itself."
"So what?" Krysta said as they stumbled away. "They're hot too."
Bonnie shook her head as she watched the girls go. How in the hell did those two make it in a town like Mystic falls without getting their throats ripped out? She took another swig from the bottle, the burn had taken a tangy turn. Good, maybe she was finally building a tolerance to the scotch.
"Those two are a public hazard," Leo said as he took the bottle from her. She watched as he took a generous sip. "Something ought to really be done about them."
Bonnie snorted. "Please, Sam and Krys will be around even after cockroaches have seized to exist."
When Rhianna's, 'Diamonds' blasted from the speakers Samantha and Krysta's drunk asses were all but forgotten. Leo wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled until her back collided with his chest. Using the rhythm as a guide, she began to grind her ass against his front. Not even a second later, she hit wood or to be more accurate wood hit her. She loved the way his skin felt as it slid over hers. It sparked a kaleidoscope of sensations in places that weren't usually stimulated. Which only served to remind her of all the firsts she'd allowed to slide to the bottom of her priority list.
Since Mystic Falls was now the supernatural place to be, there was no time. For anything. Not cheerleading, boys, waxing, or anything else that wasn't Elena related. Having the original hybrid as an enemy was a full time job. Klaus stayed plotting. Every day was something new with him. Hell, it made her wonder where he found the time. Between breaking curses, siring hybrids, harvesting doppelgänger blood, you'd think he'd be tired. She knew he wanted to rule the world, but damn. Even God took a day off and he created the damn thing. Leave it to Klaus to try and one up God. His cockiness knew no bounds.
"Smile, lovely," Leo whispered, placing the bottle to her lips. "I plan to let you have your way with me." As she took a generous swallow, he nuzzled the skin behind her ear and murmured. "Again and again and again…"
"Stop that." She giggled despite everything she stood for. "This will go no further than what's happening right now." Her gaze cut over her shoulder to find his. "So if you're counting on this night ending in some sloppy hook up, then you better ask about me. I'm not the one you want for your undead life, Leo. Trust, because I'm telling you what god loves."
"My apologies, I never meant to imply I was searching for anything more than a tupping. I prefer my relations without relationships. It's bloodier that way, darling."
"What?" Did she hear him right? She whirled around to face him.
"Honestly, is there no sense for humor to be found in this era?" Leo's engaging mouth stretched into an unrepentant grin. "Lovely, you must know I jest. I would never make a mess of you." Relief dropped her shoulders. She allowed him to pull her closer and angle his mouth next her ear. "You're too delectable not to be savored." The breathy whisper, provoked her entire frame to tremble harder than a detoxing alcoholic.
As Bonnie's, double-crossing, body became a victim of Leo's seductive vampire nature, her mind reeled. What the hell was wrong with her? Even as the thought grazed her brain, she clung to the vamp in question. Obsessively pressing every soft piece of her to every hard inch of him, making sure nothing could get between them, not even air. For the first time since she sensed her pride, her will disbanded from her needs and formed an unholy alliance with her wants. Those two working together would be her undoing. Just look at Elena. No good could ever come from over indulging one's wants.
"You really should stop fighting this," Leo chided. "You want me. Why deny yourself?" His tone dripped with genuine curiosity instead of arrogance.
Bonnie tugged the bottle from his loose grip and guzzled down the rest of the scotch. When some of the amber liquid dribbled from the corner of her mouth, Leo wiped away the excess with his thumb. Her eyes damn near rolled from their sockets as she watched him run a darting pink tongue over the pad of the digit. After, something wild and feral glinted his pupils, which in turn stoked the heat of his gaze to blaze even hotter. The intensity of his stare reminded her of a predator biding its time in a cage. Bonnie swallowed as she gathered her diverging thoughts.
"W-what makes you think I want you?" She asked, while wrapping her arms around him to bring him closer.
Leo tapped the side of his nose. "Vampire senses, my darling. And dare I say, your arousal is mouthwatering." She huffed, it was really the only thing she could muster up in the ways of outrage. Between the, lip grazing, murmurs and the slow grinding, he was decimating her control and making a mess of her restraint. Even a middle age woman with no sex drive would be leaking from her bloomers by now. "Oh, don't be cross with me, love. My desire for you is more than apparent." He pressed the length of his wood into the mound nestled at the tops of her thighs in case she missed his meaning. "Don't you think it only fair I know the gist of yours?"
"Gist?" She asked as she inhaled him, and committed his scent to memory. "Please, my desire for you is nonexistent. Truth is…you bore me. If you've seen one vampire, then you've learned to adjust your expectations. Anyway, they're not exactly rare here. Try walking over Old Hickory Bridge without tripping over one."
"You're a bit of shrew aren't you?" He clucked his disapproval. "You sort of remind me of my mother in that way."
"Gee thanks." Her arms slackened around his neck. Whatever moment they shared, chucked up deuces and slipped away.
Leo didn't seem to notice. "My attraction to you is rather disturbing when you think about it. I can't abide her, yet I find you irresistible. Hmm, my brother's human may have been right in his assumptions. You see he came up with a theory. Called it the Oedipus compl-,"
"Shut up," she cut him off.
"Excuse me?" A frown wrinkled his forehead like he'd misheard her.
She ignored his stupid question, because they both knew he heard her. "Look, all I wanna do is dance, get drunk, and maybe fool around. If you can't handle that then I'll find someone who can."
She spun on her heel to walk away, but before she took a step Leo grabbed her wrist in a loose grip. "Whatever you want. All you need do is ask and you shall have it, Beyoncé."
A smile crept across her face, and quickly retreated when Carly Rae Jepsen's, 'Call Me Maybe' began to blast from the strategically placed speakers. "Agh! Forget it!"
Bonnie turned once again to stomp away, and this time Leo used his vamp speed to block her path back to the bar. Her first mind was to drive him to his knees by blasting his brain stem, but the shine that gleamed in his eyes as he stared at the speakers with his mouth hanging open, pressed pause on any plans of retaliation.
"Where are you going?"
"The bar." She attempted to step around him. "I hate this song. They play it way too much."
"What? This song is brilliant." He grabbed her hand. "Dance with me. Please?"
Bonnie studied his expression a moment longer, before a sigh dropped her shoulders. She just didn't have it in her to say no. Not while he was looking at her as if she was the goddess of his religion. Feeling like the martyr she was apparently destined to be, she allowed Leo to pull her to the center of the dance floor.
Kol watched Beyoncé transform. She no longer had the calculated seductive movements of a siren. No, now she mesmerized in the way only a woodland nymph could. The way she gyrated her body in graceful wild abandon, enraptured him. All pretenses and inhibitions on her part were shed. Vanilla, coconuts and a hint of roses, saturated the air and coated his tongue. Her scent had imprinted itself on his senses. A thousand years from now he would still remember the smell of her skin. He'd be able to recall how her glow warmed him better than the sun. Recollect how it lit him up and slayed his darkness, effortlessly.
As the evening marched purposefully towards dawn, events after a certain point that night became a bit obscured. Which was strange when reflected upon. Being a thousand year old vampire afforded Kol certain advantages. Clarity being among them, but as time progressed faces blurred, sound waves appeared, and the only thing he wanted to do was cling to Beyoncé, dance, and guzzle down gallons of water. All in that order. All at the same time. The thought crossed his mind to feed, but when the two dimwits known as Samantha and Krysta positioned themselves on both sides of Beyoncé and began to dance, all while screaming bunny sandwich, it distracted him from taking a temporary leave.
After three songs, he was able to extract Beyoncé from the unholy trinity she found herself a part of, only to be drawn over to the mate responsible for the music, and having her demand he 'do the thing with his eyes' that would make the conductor play their song. Kol had no idea to what song she referred, but since she enquired he relented and attempted to compel the man into 'playing their song'. The conductor, however, must've been a witch or worse a werewolf, because instead of compliance he told him—and he quoted—to 'fuck off and take his drunk bitch' with him. After that slight, bedlam descended upon the warehouse. For in a turn of a phrase, Kol found his hand wrapped snugly around the disrespectful sods neck. He was unsure how it got there, but he decided to go with it and proceeded to snatch the witch/wolf over the booth, and then sling him across the dance floor.
While this transpired, Beyoncé replaced the conductor in the booth and isolated fisticuffs broke out all over the establishment to the treasured sound of, 'Call Me Maybe'. In the midst of all the mayhem, he witnessed Samantha wheeling what appeared to be a metal ale barrel out of the warehouse, followed by a staggering Krysta who carried a bottle of brown liquor in each hand. He should do Mystic Falls a kindness, and just exterminate them. The change of music and the small hand on his back drew his attention from Mystic Fall's pest problem.
Kol turned. Beyoncé surprised him by pressing her body against his, and wrapping her arms around his neck. Slowly, her soft curves began to move against him to the sounds of a sultry female vocalist pleading they do the unthinkable. So he did just that. Right there amongst the screams, fighting, and injured bodies littering the dance floor he pressed his lips to hers. The precise moment her mouth began to move tentatively against his, something shifted inside of him on a fundamental level. He could barely discern it, but he knew there had been a change. How could he not when he'd lingered in the same frozen existence for over a thousand years?
From then on, Kol's lips only left Beyoncé's to allow her the occasional gasps of air. For the remainder of the evening their tongues tangled, teeth clashed, as blended moans attempted to escape the seal of their joined lips. Even as they left the Rave and fell into a vehicle called an Uber, the kiss willed out. On the way to her home, she straddled him in the constricted confines of the vehicle's back seat. With her fingers threaded in his hair, she peppered kisses on his face and neck when she wasn't using her thrusting tongue to plunder his more than willing mouth.
By the time the Uber deposited them in front of a nondescript house in an unremarkable neighborhood, he arrived at the conclusion that she'd forever ruined him. The only other time he'd ever felt such a way was when Ester and Mikael cursed him and his siblings to walk the earth as monsters and he'd lost his connection to nature and magic. Now here he stood on the precipice once again lost in the embrace of the tiny witch who held the blueprint for his destruction in the palms of her dainty hands. After clutching her in his arms, and discovering the sweet taste that was her mouth and skin, the eternity he'd existed in before would never again be enough. Not without her.
Beyoncé broke their kiss to unlock her door, when it swung open she stepped across the threshold. She stared at him with wide unblinking eyes from behind an invisible barrier he would never be able to penetrate without two words uttered from her. For one desperate moment he feared she wouldn't extend an invitation, but then she said…
"Go home." His heart plummeted, until her laughter filled his ears. "Nah, I'm just playing. Please, come in."
Soon as she breathed those magical words in to existence, the invisible barrier fell. Before he stepped in, he had the unfamiliar urge to play the gentlemen. "You should get some rest. It's almost dawn," he said casting a glance at the pinking sky.
"It's okay, Leo. If you're worried about the sun, I can make you a daylight-,"
He held up the hand where his daylight ring resided.
"Oh," she said, stepping forward to interlace her fingers with his. "Then there goes the only excuse I'll accept."
She tugged him inside, leading him through the foyer and up the stairs. Her scent filled the house along with a faint masculine one. He could tell whomever the scent belonged to hadn't resided there in some time. A moment later she pulled him in a room, which childish interior conflicted with the stunning seductress he'd come to know. Such a contradiction baffled him.
Kol imagined her languishing in a boudoir lined with satin walls to cushion her moans. With heavy drapes to hide away her carnal sins. A large over-stuffed bed to contain the wildness of each coupling, while covered in silk sheets for added stimulation to heighten every last one of her orgasms. Her arousal should've permeated the air as a clear invitation for any suitor fortunate enough to cross the threshold. What he didn't anticipate was this powdered pastel frilliness, more suited for either Nik's doppelganger or his newest teen-aged blond obsession. Beyoncé was a siren of the first order, and should be housed in apartments more fitting of her station.
A soft frame collided with his and he allowed himself to be knocked to the narrow bed covered in furry stuffed creatures. After pulling out a purple elephant wedged under his back, he tossed the ridiculous looking animal to the side. He then, settled in and gave his attention over to the exquisite witch perched on top of him. She was beauty personified, the undisputed masterpiece of the human race and…from the looks of it severely nauseous.
Covering her mouth with both hands, she climbed off of him and made a dash to the door next to her wardrobe. Seconds later retching, gagging noises floated to him from the room.
Leaving the bed, he followed her, at vamp speed, into the restroom. He found her on her knees vomiting into a chamber pot of sorts. A curtain of brunette tresses varying in shades from milk chocolate to mahogany brown shielded her face from view and seconds away from slipping into the porcelain bowl. Without inclination, he flashed to her side and gathered the silky strands in one hand, while rubbing soothing circles into her back with the other. For the next several minutes she purged all of the scotch she ingested the night before from her body. When she was done he grabbed a wash cloth from the cupboard. He soaked the rag in the sink, and then filled a plastic cup with water.
After handing her the items, he sat on the floor a half a step behind her. Once she cleaned her face and rinsed her mouth out she laughed.
"Bet this is ringing your bell, huh?" she rasped.
"It's not the high light of our evening, but I still would much rather be here than anywhere else," he replied, more honestly than he'd intended.
In response, she angled her head to look at him over her shoulder, and then graced him with a smile so breathtakingly stunning, it chased away the lingering effects of the scotch, and doused him in clarity. In that illuminating moment he knew beyond the shadow of reason, he loved her. In a single night she'd done what no one in nigh a millennium was able to do. She'd made him treasure the gift of eternal life, because without it he never would've come to know her. Overcome by his feelings for her, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her closer to his chest. They sat there, on the restroom floor, in silence for an indeterminate amount of time.
After a moment longer. "You should stay over," she whispered, her voice still raspy from all of the vomiting.
"I've already told you, love." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I think that you should get some rest."
"I will if you stay," she insisted. "I don't wanna be alone, Leo."
Unfounded jealousy temporarily incapacitated him. That name on her lips in that moment felt intolerably sacrilegious. He wanted stomp out of there and snatch out the heart of the first Leo he could find, and then toss the organ at her feet. Just so she'd see, no Leo's heart would ever be adequate enough to love her the way he could. But for now he'd have to keep his feelings to himself. If he revealed what was in his soul too soon, he sensed she would flee.
"Will you just stay and let me hold you for a little while?" She pleaded, slightly pulling away so she could look up at him.
He pressed a kiss to her lips before whispering, "Only if you say you won't let go."
An earnest emerald jade gaze arrested his. "I won't let go, Leo."
"Do me a kindness, little love," he murmured, as he tucked an errant wave behind her ear.
She nuzzled the palm of his hand with her cheek. "Anything, within reason."
"Call me Kol."
"Only if you call me Bonnie."
AN: Okay there you have it, so now you can let me have it. Seriously, I want to know everything. Should I break my keyboard and stick to what I know (Mainly Wattpad) or should I crack my knuckles and stretch before I peck out the next update. I'll let you all decide. Favor this, Follow this, but above all else review this!