My plan right now is to concentrate on my exams, and take a break from bamon and writing. I hope I can do that, but since you were so eager to see Damon and Bonnie manage their relationship I thought of giving you this little thing. Put in mind that if I should keep on writing this fiction to make it a proper sequel (in the future, not now - remember the break) it would be angst/romance (and if you've read Dormiente you have an idea about what I mean with angst). So that's up to you. I am asking you again, do you really want the sequel?
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"I'm dying..." she says in a weak breath, letting her eyes close in the light of the day, which seeps through the thin curtains covering her window to draw patterns on the pastel walls of her bedroom.
She can't stand the light right now, it blinds her tired eyes and they tear up against her will.
"Tell Stefan that I'm sorry," she tells Elena, forcing herself to speak as her dizziness makes her feel like she's floating on a boat instead of lying in her bed. She always figured that if she was going to die it would be in battle against some evil force that has nothing else to do to pass their time but bother them, "And tell Caro that I love her".
Every muscle of her body hurts and her skin is so sensitive that even the sheets feel uncomfortable. No wonder she's saying her goodbyes.
"What?" she hears Damon's voice and she grimaces, because her eyes burn and she can't look at him right now, "No last words for your boyfriend?"
She can be sorry towards his brother for missing out a double date he's happy to skip and has nothing to say to him? Really?
When Bonnie opens her eyes to look at him he's standing next to her bed with his arms crossed on his chest and a grin on his perpetually-mocking face.
"I don't have a boyfriend," she says.
"Don't you?" he asks frowning, "I probably made out with someone else this past week. She looked a lot like you," he informs her, "But now that I look better," he adds scrutinizing her, "She was hotter."
Bonnie, all hidden under a disconcerting number of blankets, gives him a dirty look of indignation and he must keep himself from laughing.
"I can hardly imagine that," she says, her rasp voice threatening to break. She's burning because of this hellish fever, and she feels miserable. No doubt she's looking like hell but it should be his duty to lie about it, but no, cound on Damon to be sincere when he is not supposed to. He's such a caveman.
"The medicines aren't working, yet," Elena says, trying to ignore her discomfort at seeing them like this. She supposes that she will get used to their new routine; to their bantering and fighting ending up in an apnea of kisses.
"Poor bird," he mocks her, bringing his hands to slowly unbutton his black shirt as his eyes don't move from her face.
"What do you think you're doing?" Bonnie's voice is loud despite the rasping.
"Damon, I don't think this is the right moment to-..." Elena is embarrassed and she throws her hand in the air, speaking with the useless hope to stop him, "to do... whatever it is that you want to do right now!"
"Oh, believe me, it's always the right time!" he informs her with a dirty grin, which makes her turn instantly red.
"Please!" she insists, shrieking, "Do you realize that I am here in the room?"
"Your choice," he shrugs carelessly, "You can sit somewhere and enjoy the show if you like."
Bonnie says his name with that scolding inflection that makes him think of a sexy teacher ready to hit the back of his hands with a baton, but it surely doesn't have the effect she was aiming for. In fact, they should try that scenery; her desk looks resistant enough, he thinks throwing a casual look that way.
"I am getting to the good part, this is your last chance to buzz off," he tells Elena as he throws his shirt over a chair before reaching for the button of his black jeans, "You already had the pleasure," he reminds her, making a show at unbuttoning his pants, "but I guess you wouldn't refuse a second show," he says winking at her.
Elena gasps, turning to Bonnie with a fast "Sorry," and then walking away, almost slamming the door behind her in embarrassment.
"You are impossible," Bonnie accuses him covering her eyes with one hand. She feels even warmer right now, and she's sure he's making her fever rise more, "I can't believe you're thinking of... that, now! You jackass, I am not going to have sex with you!"
"Oh, Bon-Bon," he says with a mockingly condescending voice, "You wound me," he adds, slipping under her blankets. The movement makes her feel the cold air against her warm skin and she shivers, trying to curl up on the side of the bed, away from him.
When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions
It's my worried mind that you quiet
He slips one arm around her waist and drags her against his body. Having him pressed to her confirms her suspicion about his habit to not wear any kind underwear and she wants to protests at his current attitude and general narcissism but his cold skin, once the aftershock of the change of temperature has passed, is such a relief that she moans, turning around so that she can hold him.
"Oh, God," she says, brushing her cheek on his hard, fresh chest, ignoring completely the fact that his nipple is one inch away from her mouth, like the fact has no relevance at all. She slips one leg between his, rubbing one foot against the length of his muscular leg.
"So good," she murmurs in ecstasy, slightly rubbing her body against him, almost exhilarated by the sweet relief she's getting.
"Yeah, glad to be of use, really, but could you please control your enthusiasm before I forget you are actually sick and in need of rest?" he asks, tightening his jaw and concentrating on not moving his hands from the middle of her back.
Place your hands on my face
Close my eyes and say
Love is a poor man's food
Don't prophesize
She giggles against his chest, and he twirls a lock of her air around his index finger.
"You are a tease," he accuses her.
"I am not," she replies, uselessly trying to sound offended.
"You're dressed in a pair of shorts and tank top shamelessly rubbing yourself against me while we're lying in a tiny bed and then expect me to not make a move," he reminds her, with a matter-of-fact tone, "I rest my case, your honor."
Bonnie needs to bite the inside of her mouth to keep herself from giggling again like a stupid teen ager. She's not stupid, even if sometimes she wants Damon so much that she feels so.
"It must not be so hard for you to resist me since I'm not hot, remember?"
"I assure you, it's quite hard," he says, with a resigned sigh, "And about that, ignore it."
She blinks, raising her head to look up at him, "What?" she asks, "What should I igno-"
Damon rolls his eyes and moves his lap, meeting her stomach with his erection.
"Oh," she says, blushing as he raises one eyebrow, daring her to say anything. Bonnie just gasps and lower her head, placing her cheek against his chest, trying to ignore this awkward situation.
"You should feel really proud of the things you can accomplish," he says, "And I'm not talking about my physical discomfort, only."
"You mean, having you as my personal ice pack?" she asks.
"Among other things, yeah," he replies, "But I was thinking about having such a thoughtful, accommodating boyfriend."
"I already told you I don't have one," she teases him.
"Oh, so you let everyone go second base the first time you kiss them?" he says like he's wondering aloud, "You're such a bad girl. Gives me all kind of delicious thoughts."
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
He had her sitting on his lap, with both her legs on one side when he slipped his hand under her shirt. She had herr sank into his hair while they kissed, and he was almost with his fingers inside her bra when Elena and Stefan arrived hand in hand for a fast snack in the kitchen, ruining the moment. For how much he urged Bonnie to go back to their previous occupation she was too concentrate on explaining things to her friend to listen to him, and even Stefan trying to distract Elena didn't work out in the end. Apparently it was all way too shocking to let go. That night Damon regretted that Elena wasn't a vampire anymore, because he couldn't snap her neck to make a point, for how valid the said point was.
"I am an independent woman whom belongs only to herself," she almost chants, sounding proud.
"Oh, spare me, this is the most idiotic thing I've heard. And I've heard a lot of them," he protests.
She raises her head again, looking at him with burning, offended eyes, forgetting she's feeling weak, "I should have known!" she shout, looking outraged, "So you think that a woman must have a man to be happy, or count for something!"
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
"No, I think that every human being can brag about independence all they want but, when the party's over and it's time to go home they want someone waiting for them. Because in the end all everyone really wants is to feel like they belong."
Bonnie blinks, taking in his words, feeling very exposed and very idiotic. How strange that Damon is the one to say something so true, without any shame. She guesses he had a lot more time to process reality then she had.
"You want that too?" she asks, with voice feeble and yet serious.
"Me?" he grimaces, gaining her surprise, "please, don't be ridiculous," he says, holding her against him, keeping her face in the crook of his neck, "I do belong," he whispers, kissing her hair, "You smell bad, you know?" he suddenly asks, ruining the moment on purpose and getting a punch on the shoulder.
"Ouch! Such a violent woman you are," he accuses her, rubbing his shoulder with one hand as she slips away from him and lays down with her back turned towards him, "I like you."
"That's because you're a masochist," she accuses him, trying her best to stay mad at him.
So now we see how it is
This fist begets the spear
Weapons of war
Symptoms of madness
Damon grins taking her shoulder to gently push her until her back in on the mattress.
"I really like you," he repeats, tenderly, looking her in the eyes and lowering his head to brush her lips with his own.
"Are you sure?" she asks, holding his face to look at him in the eyes.
Sometimes it happens, just like this. He looks at her in the eyes and in between the passion and the strength he reads doubt too. He can't count on his memory inside her head anymore, because despite the lingering images the feelings accompanying them are gone, and she's the girl towards whom he was careful to never show any weakness, like some blind part of him knew that she could complete him or break him like no one else could. So now he has this beautiful, incredible, doubtful girl under him and one long eternity to make her understand what he intends to do with his time.
"Can I show you how sure I am?" he asks, husky, before kissing her with a lazy rhythm. The kind of self-indulgent rhythm that's made for the lucky ones.
Don't let your eyes refuse to see
Don't let your ears refuse to hear
Or you ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness
When his lips meet hers, chapped by fever, she opens her mouth willingly. Her breath is hot. It takes him just a touch and, her tongue joins his into a slow dance; he can guess the taste of syrup. To think about it, it only took him one hundred and forty-seven years to find out that intimacy has nothing to do with sex; to find out that intimacy feels like a feverish girl in your arms and tastes like awful sough syrup. He loves intimacy, or more likely he just loves her. It's not like he really cares to know the difference right now.
This must be the reason why it's not so bad they didn't have sex, yet. Well, of course it doesn't mean he doesn't want to do it, or teach her every page of the kama sutra and then some. But she manages to make him feel content just to linger in her light.
Bonnie has her fingers in his hair, caressing them, and when she does this it feels like she's straightening his thoughts. In this moments, when she's in his arms offering no resistance to his kisses tracing the curve of her lips, of her slender neck, he thinks he can be generous with the whole world, let them live and prosper and multiply as long as they let him keep Bonnie. If they let him keep Bonnie and her lashes that tremble from pleasure every time his fingers trace her chin and neck. If they let him keep Bonnie and her voice which can sound so sweet sometimes that he almost regrets shutting her up with his mouth. If they let him keep his little bird, his judgy witch, his soul.
"You're hot," she moans as he kisses her neck.
"Aren't you a lucky girl?" he asks, raising his head to kiss her mouth but she turns her face with a grin.
"I meant your temperature," she says, "If we keep this up the whole purpose of having you in bed with me will be defeated."
"That depends on the purpose," he replies, suggestively.
"I thought it was to give me a little relief from the fever."
"Oh, you're so naive," he says, leaning in for a kiss, but she presses her hands on his chest pushing him back a little.
"I'm not," she protests, "Don't try to fool me just because you're embarrassed," she scolds him, "You were trying to make me feel better because you're such a good boyfriend."
Damon grins and sighs, turning on his back and pulling her with him, letting her lay on him.
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
"You use dirty methods to get what you want, did I ever tell you that?" he asks, feeling - in a pretty twisted way - proud of her sweet manipulation.
"Once or twice, " she replies, "But I thought you liked dirty," she adds feigning innocence.
"Oh, I love dirty," he says, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger to make her look at him in the eyes. She's biting her plump lower lip, the little vixen, "And you are doing this on purpose," he accuses her.
"Well, maybe I am a bit of a tease, after all," she admits, smiling at him.
How can she be so gorgeous with a fever and her hair in a mess is beyond him, but he surely is not going to complain. He brushes her hair using his fingers and then, when her scared, amazed green eyes become too much to bear he traps her face into his palms to pull her towards his mouth.
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold forever
She thinks she really is a lucky girl.
#
Note: The song I used in this chapter is "Hold you in my arms" by Ray LaMontagne. The title of this fiction is an Italian word and it means "becoming".