I don't own the vampire diaries.

This fic timeline is around season 3 ep 5

Please reviews

Part I

Small and crowded, Bonnie stares at the walls. He paces like a wolf ready to pounce. She is nothing but a frail victim. Blood slipping from her nose and torn knuckles, giving up the fight feel ridiculous. However, Bonnie has lost. She is torn-flesh for the canons of defeat.

Her broken and painful limbs sing the song of death. Her blood pools around her and draws the brighten canvas of his victory. Klaus circles Bonnie, and he is ready to damage more pieces of her wrecked body. He sniffs the air and sighs with content when the scent of her blood saturates his lungs.

Bonnie wipes her mouth, and the redden cut reopens. She presses her thumb to her lower lip to establish the damage. Her eyes travel, and she takes a long look at Klaus. No hair out of place and no wrinkles on his clothes. He did not fight as hard as she did. Bonnie grows more furious. He wrecks her like a wave colliding with a beach of rock.

Bonnie is in a state, which is on the opposite spectrum of Klaus' immaculate appearance. Her hair has coiled into a questionable shape. Her clothes miss fabrics in some places. Bare skin covered with gaping wounds, she is undoubtedly the loser. Enough blood slips out of her to form a sinuous river in which Klaus dips the sole of his shoes.

Klaus crouches before her, and his thumb chases a drop of blood by the corner of her lips. The pressure of cold flesh against her scorching wound is unbearable. She gasps while choking on the warm breath. Bonnie only holds her tears to retain her dignity.

Exasperated, Bonnie swats his hand away from her face. She bares her teeth almost more feral than the wolf in him. Her wounds would beg to differ. He clawed in her flesh like a wild animal.

"Easy," Klaus cajoles her as he would a kitten with breakable claws.

Klaus raises his hand in mock surrender. Palms crimson and nails saturated with skin, which he flayed from her body.

"Don't touch me," She threatens.

Her magic cannot carry such bold threats. It is a matter of wounded ego. She is a loser basking in the delusion that her terms forged a path to survive the cost of defeat.

Amused, his smirk beautifully sits on reddened lips. Klaus shakes his fingers, and he pulls his hand behind his back.

"I didn't make the offer," Klaus responds with patronising patience. "If you flinch at my touch, I can only imagine how this will go." He rises to his full length.

"You do understand what sex implies, or naivety is another flaw knitted on you cloth of martyrdom, witch."

Again, he crouches to reach for Bonnie's body sprawled on the floor. His fingers linger over the broken limbs. His thumb dips in the gaping wound, and she bellows in pain. He sucks his thumb clean, and his lips are redder from her blood.

What he could not suck smears the corner of his mouth, and his pearly white teeth are now pink. His sight makes Bonnie's stomach twist. Bitter saliva coats her tongue. She refrains from spilling her guts.

"If you can't bare my touch, sex is out of the realm of possibility." He moves a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You made the bargain." Klaus reminds Bonnie. "The Gilbert child and the…" He does not remember who else motivated Bonnie's surrender. "They might be gone, but out of my reach, they aren't." He twists a lock of her hair around his finger.

Klaus slowly sprays his fingers, and he challenges Bonnie to retake her words. What does he have to lose? Friends, life, or honour? Nothing. Bonnie has already faced her losses. Her hands remain on the wooden floor. Her nails scraping on it to keep her hand lined by her body.

The tips of Klaus' fingers graze her face. He hums with content. His fingers spread like mangrove branches when he roots his nails in her skin. His thumb draws the cut spread across his visage. He hit her harder than he thought. Bonnie fought so hard that he forgot she was breakable. He should fix her back into something of use to him.

"Here," Klaus tears his wrist, and he presents his forearm to Bonnie.

Bonnie looks at the blood infiltrating the sleeve of his Henley, which turns the green into a sort of purple. Drops fall on her cheeks. Her throat itches and she wonders how sweet his blood might be. The thought brings forth displeasure.

"No," Bonnie refuses without hiding her disgust.

She closes her eyes and turns her face to the side. Klaus licks his wrist, and his tongue cleans the agglutinated drops around the closing wrist wound.

"Very well," He gleefully says.

The pleased tone of his voice raises alarms in Bonnie's brain. Klaus kneels before her. Bonnie feels vulnerable now. She wonders what mistake she made. He smiles like the cat who ate the canary.

Klaus slips his arms below her sprawled body, and he lifts her as he would his bride. She shivers and attempts to escape his grip. He holds her with crushing strength. She silently cries to bear his grip.

"In your state, you won't bear the act." He quietly announces. "I didn't agree to fuck a corpse." He spits vulgarly, and it is so him while sounding so different from the elegant picture, which he presents.

Klaus drags his arm close to his chest, and she becomes a ball of flesh and broken bones, which he holds close to his heart. Bonnie's nose finishes in the fabric of his shirt, which smells like her rotting blood and the fresh scent of winter rain. She nuzzles his shirt in search of comfort while her stomach churns in revulsion for her weakness.

"If you must heal at a human pace, I must be certain you won't use that time to cheat me out of our bargain," Klaus explains. "I could hold the Gilbert child until you can withhold your side of the bargain." He mutters.

Bonnie dislikes how he refers to the situation as a bargain. There are honour and morality to a bargain. What she suggested in a moment of despair is a sham. She offered her body to salvage the lives of her friends. It is more a deal with the devil than a bargain.

"You should keep me." She says with determination. "For as long as it takes."

Klaus throws her on the bed where they should have consumed the night. Her blood pours on the linen brown sheet.

"Very well," Klaus says as he walks to the door and locks it. "I will keep you."

Odd, Bonnie has no other words for his behaviour. Locked in a wooden cabin in the middle of a sea of grass, she cannot explain Klaus' behaviours. She can explain her compliance with the ludicrous game. Bonnie has friends to lose, and she has a moral code. Klaus might have coerced a bargain out of her, but he still has her words.

Klaus' long fingers are in her hair. She has argued about the practice, but his will has subdued hers. Bonnie remains to beat to complacency. Her broken limbs are healing faster than they should but slower than they could. Another bargain, which Bonnie and Klaus have to discuss, occupies her mind.

The strands tangle around his wrist, and coyly tips break under his fingers. Klaus is gauche. Unaware and lacking experience at what he does. Bonnie is a rag doll in his hands. He combs her hair almost too violently. She fears another headache. He pulls patches of her hair off her scalp.

Bonnie took the prideful decision to heal at a human path. Humanity means weakness and no magic. She has not chosen any of those options. The fight leading to their bargain was chaotic. Bonnie took old victories as a certitude for supremacy. She almost burns it once at the altar of his sacrifices. Almost does not count and Bonnie learned it through broken bones?

Klaus made a mockery of her glorious past against him. He beat the weakness in her and the magic out of her. Bonnie's body aches and her magic is a humming sound in the back of her soul. She is defenceless before Klaus Mikealson. Nothing remarkable and nothing, which Klaus exploits beyond his victory. He combs her hair instead of claiming what she promised.

Klaus enjoys a mundane life, and he waits on the time when he can claim his prize. Bonnie only waits for the days when she can be free of her words. Sometimes when he hums with content and brushes her hair, the heart of her femininity throbs in knowledge, which she lacks.

Klaus holds the brush, and he pulls too hard on the roots of her scalp. He hums a disturbing hymn of joy while brushing Bonnie's hair. Bonnie does not want to unearth the root of his joy. She stares at the crooked mirror on the broken and dusty vanity.

"You can shower now," Klaus announces while he carefully places the brush by the vanity.

She looks at Klaus with exhaustion closing her eyes. Sitting for too long is painful, and yet, he makes her sit before the vanity to brush her hair. Her back aches when he does not stand behind her to bear Bonnie's weight.

"If you say so," Bonnie agrees.

The shower is outside, and it is something old and rusty among the tall grass, which reaches her thighs. He often carries her to the small wooden platform. When she is too tired like tonight, Klaus bathes her. He quietly hums while he pours buckets of water over her shivering frame. She does not understand why he derives so much pleasure out of the smallest act, but she notices that Klaus is content.

He soaps her arms, and they have begun to take a normal shape. Soon, Bonnie's arm will be able to carry the magic flowing through her blood. His fingers press on her thighs, and he pushes and stretches her flesh like dough, which he moulds to his desire.

When he finishes washing her, Bonnie's head comes to rest on his chest. There is no steady heartbeat. It is void and silence, which console her through the days that quickly turn into months spent under Klaus' care.

Bonnie only knows the time for the length of his hair and beard. Now, his hair is of a length past his shoulders. The curls have stretched into water waves. The time spent on her grooming is not one, which he bothers to spend on his care.

"Soon," Klaus softly says when he carefully lies her into a freshly made bed.

Tonight, Bonnie did not have to ask the question. She takes the cup of tea, which he offers. He does not bother to clean his wrist. Bonnie no longer cares that he uses his blood to speed through the healing process.

"Then you will let me go," Bonnie asks as many other nights.

"If you weren't so stubborn, this will be over, witch." Klaus reminds Bonnie who deserves the blame for their cohabitation. "At least your little friends have begun to understand. It has been a month since the last rescue mission. I must say they are no good without you, witch." He tells her as if he is relating amusing anecdotes. "Do not worry! Once you uplift your part of the bargain, I will let you go."

Bonnie drags the blanket over her body, and she covers her bare legs before he has the desire to apply lotion over her skin.

"When can we have sex?" Bonnie asks.

"When you can shower without my help," Klaus replies, "when your body stops aching," he adds with a smirk, "When you have healed from our last fight, I think soon." Klaus finishes with a small smile. "Soon until then rest. Good night, witch."

Bonnie grows restless, and she has been able to shower alone for the last week. Klaus sits on the cabin porch to watch her in case she suddenly falls. Her magic is dormant, but it hums loudly around Klaus. It coils and twists in his presence as if it attempts to embrace him.

Tonight, he is on the porch. Hair tied at the nape and he wears nothing but low hanging pants. In the past day, Klaus has grown feral. Far from the refined and elegant vampire, the creature staring at Bonnie through amber eyes is lupine.

He smells more like earth and less rotten. She feels unrested next to him. He leaves her wanting and yearning. Something in her craves to nurture the beast. The same way he likes to comb her hair, Bonnie finds joy in trimming his beard. He is an animal, and she is a mistress of nature.

From the corner of her eyes, Bonnie watches Klaus while she washes the soap from her body. Her muscles are tense like the cords of a poorly adjusted guitar. She fears to dip her finger between her legs because a fire burns in the core of her femininity.

Klaus watches Bonnie, and his eyes avert to the sky. She feels anxious. Under her skin, magic is rampant. She closes her eyes because she needs to stop looking at Klaus. The wind howls now and then, and it burns her skin. Her magic threatens to reach for Klaus. She sighs and hopes for a conclusion to such torture.

There is drumming in the back of Bonnie's mind. She draws a deep breath, and she rushes through her shower. She pours buckets after buckets. The cold water does not cool her skin. However, Bonnie shivers as if she suffers the heat of a fever refusing to break.

Her hand always threatens to dip between her legs. She draws her curves, and Bonnie follows the pulse of her magic. The grass sings the chorus of the wind grazing it. She looks at him, and Klaus is no longer on the porch. He stands before her, which hands groping her curves.

"Now," Klaus comes to stand before Bonnie, and he grabs her roaming hand.

"What?" She asks in a cry of panic. "Klaus," she attempts to halt his step. "What are you doing?" She pulls on an arm, which remains fragile after a long time of no use.

"Time to uplift the bargain, witch." He announces while he stands in the middle of the grass field.

The small cabin stands behind him while the moon spreads its shadow. Soap still covers Bonnie's body. She looks at Klaus' translucent skin. Aside from a few tattoos here and there, he is a pale canvas for the moon to kiss and stretch on.

Bonnie takes a step back, and she takes another step. Klaus' fingers play with the button of his pants. She prepares herself to flee.

"Good," He looks into Bonnie's eyes, "make me chase you, witch." He announces with glee. "And bear the consequences."

Bonnie freezes, and she wants to understand the instinct at play. The thought is too strong in her mind. She lifts her hand, and she shows her palm to Klaus.

"What did you do?" Bonnie dares to ask, and she looks at the ink, which has stained her palm where he grabbed her hand.

"My part of the bargain," Klaus replies, and he pulls down his pants. "Are you going to run?" He asks with a smile revealing his canine.

He is a wolf more than he is a vampire. She is the guardian of nature, and Klaus is a peculiar piece of it.

"I should run," Bonnie agrees, but she takes a step toward Klaus, "but I gave my words. Jeremy and Matt's lives against a night with you." She says with a trembling voice. "And you're going to let me go after?" She inquires.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Klaus teases. "You would walk free from here, and well walking might not be the word. You'll be free to crawl away." He extends his finger until he can graze her skin.

"Okay," Bonnie steps where Klaus can reach her.

When he spreads his fingers, Klaus' claws sink in Bonnie's visage. She yells and he drags her to him. Her cries only stop when he presses his searing lips against her puncture wounds. His tongue laps on the blood drops that adorn the side of her face.

Bonnie desperately holds and shoves Klaus in the same heavy breath. He tackles her to the ground, and the bed of grass scraps her delicate skin, which Klaus has apply lotion the night before.

His weight is crushing, and Bonnie struggles for breath while it is easier to moan. His tongue continues to explore her face, and Bonnie's fingers dig a hole on Klaus' shoulder. She hesitates between pushing him away and embracing his touch.

His palm grabs her legs, and he parts them to lie between Bonnie's thighs. She chokes on a moan unaware on how to react to the caress of his finger in her abdomen. His manhood firm rests on her thigh.

Klaus moves the loose coils behind her ear, and his thumb wipes the big tears on the corner of Bonnie's eyes. He presses his lips to hers. The taste of her blood is subtle but present. She licks on the salty nectar. She prefers to know a taste of her than remembering and loving Klaus' sweetness.

He is sweet like ripe and almost rotten fruits. That taste that sits on the tongue for hours and makes the teeth endlessly wants to bite in the same sweet flesh. Bonnie can help but kiss him, and she chases the sweetness until she has nothing but bitterness. She wants to vomit, and she cannot refrain from seeking more of his touch.

Klaus bites her lower lips, and her blood spills in his mouth and coats his tongue. Bonnie shoves him away, and Klaus laughs above the howling sound of the winds.

"Easy, witch." He says while he pulls away from Bonnie, and she sits to follow him.

Klaus grabs Bonnie's leg, and he drags her to him. He kisses her inner thighs, and he wraps her legs around his waist. She now straddles him. He loves when she looks down to him with disdain, which she will never be able to hide. He pushes his thumb in her mouth, and the ink on it stains her lips with a dark hue.

Klaus' hands run along the curve of Bonnie's body. His hand closes and opens around her pulsating throat. His warm palm swallows the firm mound of her breast. She struggles with the expression of her pleasure. She covers his hand with hers.

Klaus' fingers continue to explore Bonnie's silhouette. Delicate caresses stroke as lightly as the brush of a painter versed in his art.

Bonnie's curves are undefined. She has yet to become a woman. The femininity is gauche on her. Hips are too narrow, and her waist lacks flesh. Her abdomen is compact muscles, which a cock has never stretched. Klaus did not ask when he took the bargain.

"I'm your first," He does not ask, but he becomes aware of her inexperience. "No one deflowered you," He says "Your sweet cunt," He pushes a finger, and it is the first intrusion, which is not from her hand.

Bonnie steals a breath, and Klaus grabs her chin. He tilts her head until he can claim her lips. The moan that follows the second finger in Bonnie's cunt, he drinks it with an unquenchable thirst. She tenses unused to the intrusion, and she clenches around his moving fingers.

"My breakable witch," He holds her in a crushing manner while his fingers coerce pleasure that stains her purity.

She moans on his tongue. Bonnie's nails break his skin. She learns the course of nature on his finger. Her femininity, she will find it on Klaus' cock. He kisses her with tenderness. He holds her as if she is precious. The witch is precious and pure.

"My witch," He says with his tongue pressed on the curve of her neck.

Bonnie basks on the warmth of his words. She climbs on the altar where she must be worshipped. His finger plucks purity from her soul. The ink, which he left on her arms, sinks in her blood.

"My wolf," she cradles his face, and she forces him to look into her eyes. "Now," she breathes the word.

Bonnie moans at the loss of his fingers, but she gasps when he begins to sheath his cock in her walls. She closes her eyes to bear the pain, but Klaus refuses to allow it.

"Look at me," He barks the order, and she cannot ignore it. "Look at me, my pure witch." He purrs in the hole of her ears.

Tears pool in Bonnie's eyes. She looks at Klaus, and she watches his eyes switch colour until they settle for a warm shade of gold. His visage morphs, and he is more wolf than man. She ought to be frightened, but Bonnie is oddly pleased. A smile breaks on her lips.

The ache between her legs begins to tear her apart. She feels him grow bigger and bigger until his cock locks in her. She cannot move, and she trashes.

"Easy, witch." He whispers while he begins to move slightly.

Bonnie groans and she clings to Klaus as a wave of pain travels through her. She desperately holds onto him until the pain becomes slightly pleasurable. On her tongue, she tastes the copper of his blood and the saltiness of his skin. She bites so hard on his shoulder to bear the assault of his dick.

"Soon," Klaus whispers as he continues to drive into her cunt. "Bear it, my witch." He sounds frantic and lost into a haze of pleasure.

"Now," Bonnie pleads.

Her blood burns and her magic permeates through her skin. It feels like lying on pins and needles. Her magic hums in the back of her mind. She knows the chant to be ancient and natural. It feels like thread twisting around each other to form a tapestry.

"Bite me," the words fall from her lips, "Bite, me." She grabs his face, and she presses his lips to her pulse. "You must do it, my wolf." Bonnie cajoles Klaus, and her fingers play with the hair on his nape. "Bite me," she whispers.

It is a chant, which Klaus cannot disregard. It is magic, which he cannot overrule. His jaws unclasp, and the tender kisses, which he lays on her skin, do not suffice. His gum itches and his fangs graze her skin. Klaus pushes the tip in Bonnie's neck, and the blood teases his thirst.

Klaus loses control, and he sinks his fangs deeper in her pulse. The blood pours in his mouth. She tastes divine, and it is rich in layers, which years of snobbism do not help in distinguishing. He cannot tell her taste, but he wants nothing else, as it is divine.

"Fyrir mitt blóð lofar þú að vera trúr, og með þínu niðjum lofa ég að vera trúr." Bonnie chants a spell, which her instincts bring forward.

Klaus is too intoxicated with her blood to care. He continues to pluck her sweet cunt. Bonnie has long fallen in the arms of the petite mort. He spills his seeds. His cock unlocks from her cunt. The moon grows red above their tangled body.

For a few minutes, they lay next to each other. Klaus breathes heavily, and he licks the drop of blood on her neck. Bonnie attempts to move out of his grip. She shoves him every time he draws closer to her.

Klaus raises his hand in surrender. He rises on his knees, and he grabs his pants. He stands to dress up. He crouches to be at eye level with Bonnie. Somehow, he instinctively finds kindness for the witch that he has deflowered.

"You should shower before your friend comes," He tells her.

"If you don't mind," Bonnie asks, as she has no strength left.

"The witch only has to ask," Klaus smirks, and he picks her from the floor as he did previously when he broke her limbs.

The water does not suffice to wash away Klaus' scent. It clings to Bonnie's skin like a fur blanket in a sauna. She watches him soap every inch of her skin. He scrubs her body and the ink on both their palms wash away.

Klaus should flay her skin instead. He is too tender, and Bonnie feels the anger grows in her. It is something profound that rips from inside. Her magic rolls out of her in heavy layers. He extends his finger as if he can catch some of it.

"Incendia," Bonnie sobs. "Incendia," she yells in a rage.

Nothing comes out of it. Her magic is a dull knife against Klaus. It breaks before hitting him.

"Incendia."

Klaus smirks and he pours the last bucket over her head.

"You're not quite ready for a fight," he carries her away from the shower.

Bonnie sinks in the bedsheets, and Klaus grabs a towel. He begins to dry every inch of her skin. He takes extra care of the ache between her legs. She winces when he passes over her bruise.

"Here," Klaus tears his wrist. "Drink."

The scent of his blood makes Bonnie's stomach churns. She fixes her mouth to refuse, but he speaks before she can.

"Would you care to explain to the Gilbert child why you can't walk, witch?" Klaus knowingly asks. "Would you tell what your big bad wolf did? And it will be all for nothing because I will rip the child's neck." He calmly states. "Feed, witch." Klaus presses his wrist to Bonnie's lips.

Bonnie drinks until his blood begins to taste rotten. She drags away her lips from his wrist. Klaus wipes the excess blood on the corner of her lips.

"Very well," Klaus says, and he moves away from Bonnie. "I will let your friend know where they can find you." He says as he leaves.

"We tried to get you back," Jeremy says as he hugs Bonnie.

She stiffens in his arm, and she refrains from shoving him away. He smells like he always did, and Bonnie finds that it burns her nose.

"I know," she replies while he helps her climb in his car.

Bonnie pulls on Klaus' sweater. He left with her torn clothes, and in the last months, she has worn nothing but his clothes. She pulls on Klaus' sweater, and she enjoys the comforting warmth.

"Are you okay?" Jeremy asks.

His voice annoys her, and she wants to mute him for an eternity. The question is stupid. How can she be okay? Yet, she feels great. Slightly exhausted but she feels better than she felt before tonight.

"Yes, I'm fine." She says with a smile. "Don't worry." Bonnie insists.

Jeremy curiously looks at her. He attempts to find the hair, which lies in the wrong way. She hates the scrutiny, and she wants to point out that Jeremy does not look with enough intensity. Bonnie pulls on the sleeves of Klaus' sweater.

"Did Klaus do something to you?" Jeremy ultimately decides to ask.

"Nothing, I didn't want nor enjoy." She replies without a thought.

Jeremy parks to the side of the road, and he turns to face Bonnie. She is in clothes too large to belong to her. Her hair has grown long, and they perfectly lie on her shoulders. She looks like a watered flower, delicate and beautiful.

"You can tell me, Bonnie." Jeremy insists. "If Klaus did anything to you, you can tell me."

Bonnie draws a shaky breath. What is there to share? Intimate moments and months of care are not worth sharing. Jeremy hopes to hear horror stories, but the horror comes in the lack of stories.

"I did nothing I had not agreed to," Bonnie replies. "He let me go," there is a glimpse of shame in the sentence.

"So what did you agree to," Jeremy finds a better way to poke. "Why did he let Matt and I go?"

Bonnie sighs, and she nuzzles her sweater. She brings the fabric to her nose in search of something, which she cannot name. The scent is soothing, and she does not like the way Jeremy pokes and probes.

"Nothing that matters to you or me," Bonnie flippantly replies. "I don't know how long it has been," She rubs her eyes and cannot hold a yawn. "I'm tired, Jer. I want to go home and sleep. I need it now. Take me home, Jer."

"Of course, what was I thinking?" Jeremy starts the car, "Stefan compelled your dad, and so don't worry." He continues to speak. "You can stay at my place tonight."

Bonnie frowns, and in the back of her head, there is a rumbling. She presses her hand against her ears to quiet her thoughts.

"Maybe not tonight," Bonnie replies with a blank expression, "I'm tired." She adds, "Klaus got me tired." she blushes, and her tone is timid. "I just want to go home."

"Okay, we will catch up tomorrow," Jeremy agrees.

Bonnie and Jeremy remain silent for the rest of the journey. She rushes out the car when he parks before her home.

"Bonnie, wait," Jeremy calls when she hears toward her door without parting words. "I'm glad you're back." He hesitantly kisses Bonnie.

She freezes under Jeremy's caress. It is not her first kiss from him, and they have been dating for the last six months. Despite how familiar and comforting the kiss is, Bonnie notices something.

Bonnie quickly pulls away, and she glares at Jeremy. Her magic rumbles, and her skin tingles. The little sparks crack at the back of her head. The word is on the tip of her tongue.

"Bonnie?" The door opens on Rudy, "ah Jeremy," he says after taking note of her daughter's boyfriend. "Thanks for bringing her home on time. I was about to call." He adds.

Bonnie steps away from Jeremy, and she moves toward her door.

"Goodnight, Jer." She rushes to her father. "Hi, dad." She hugs Rudy. "I'm going to bed. I don't feel well." Bonnie flees inside the house without a glance toward Jeremy.

"Is everything alright with both of you?" Rudy asks now that he stands alone before the Gilbert boy.

"Everything is fine," Jeremy replies. "Goodnight, Mr Hopkins." He walks away from Bonnie's door.

Jeremy sits in his car, and he curiously looks at his left sleeve when he rests his hands on the wheel.

"What the fuck?" He cannot remember when he grazed a flame, but the hem of his sleeve is burnt.

Bonnie stares through the window.