*Musings of an Elder Salvatore*

Its times like this when the house is silent save for the popping and sputtering of the burning logs that I allow myself to ponder the fascinating lil' bits of information that land into my ears. …Whether I want to hear them or not.

So, she went and lost her virginity to Baby Gilbert. I suppose it's a good thing,

or a bad thing.

He was probably gentle with her and they were so 'innocent' that they were under the assumption that it was better with the one you love. Heh. Oooh but I could tell her practice makes perfect and offer to show her. I kinda get a kick out of seeing the flush of anger glide up her face; it brings her blood close to the skin and that is hot. And I can feel the signature sinful smirk curve my face on that thought. For a moment I allow the light from the crackling fireplace to dancing through the amber liquid in the elegant cut tumbler and envision the light bouncing in a room of two naked bodies…mine and hers locked up tight so I can teach her all the things she missed out on…

Piff Little Gilbert most likely fumbled the whole thing, he has no finesse. There were probably apologies and uncomfortable giggles and a complete lack of manliness on Jeremy's part. And secretly despite the 'loveyness' she's going to be missing something – the spirit of our verbal sparring. That burn, that fervor, the fury. The suaveness. Me.

And when she figures it out and gazes at me with what she thinks is surreptitious needy doe eyes I may just cave in and show her all that she was missing. Hell who am I kidding; I may be the one to beg…nah…

*Maybe*

Bonnie Bennett would rather die that admit she has a thing for Damon Salvatore. And well she has, died that is. More than once maybe? So it wasn't so bad that she could confess to herself that Damon was really nice to look at. Any woman with eyes can see he has major appeal. Maybe in a perfect world where she wasn't just 'background chick' and he wasn't just death with teeth would they end up together. Maybe if Elena hadn't looked like a lost love and Bonnie could be more forward with getting something (or someone) for herself instead of always giving to any and every one, would they see more into each other than just defender and destroyer.

Was it a crime to slightly enjoy when he did the sexy crazy eyes thing or find thrill in his cerulean orbs lingering a little too long on her petite form? He wore black well, was highly intelligent even if a ton impetuous and still plunged into his chivalric history by opening her door even while doing it with that sneer that he flashed her on frequent occasion. What a gut twisting dichotomy. Was it so awful that she enjoyed the flicker of fire light traipsing over his pale skin and dappling through his inky hair, turning the tufts of midnight into wisps of ebony with tips of whisky tinge?

She sometimes wonders what his skin feels like. Are his lean lines as hard as they look? Will his texture still be smooth and supple despite the supernatural power running his body? Will his lips be warm and soft or hard and cool or fall some spot deliciously in the middle?

Perhaps next time when she dreams of him again, because there is always another dream of him, she will give into the dream with zest. She can let herself feel and do and say all the things she won't in real life because it's not a sin to dream it right?

To sleep perchance to dream…