an: hi. it's been a while, June was so so so hard for me in multiple aspects. a lot of things came to my realization and i feel so much better now. this fanfic was something that came to me maybe yesterday. i don't know, im sort of fixated on Bamon moments like these. enjoy, as always tips are greatly appreciated n thank you all for the bday wishes, it was absolutely fantastic! missed u all v much (:
In his hands was Bonnie's heart and he submitted to a foreign, cruel propensity to make her suffer. He wanted her to think that she was alone in the attraction that developed like film in a red room between them. Gradually coming to life hour after hour, second after second.
What attraction? The attraction that developed when a lawful good woman accidentally fell in love with a charming, beautiful, chaotic and devilish man. The man everyone warned her about. The man that would never be granted redemption because each misstep landed him one step closer to his true destiny: an archetypal hell with fire and despair.
Women like Bonnie were susceptible to falling for men like him because the vehement denial was some sort of diversion tactic and the stronger said denial was, the more complicated the web of sticky unyielding, binding emotions became.
If he wasn't himself he'd ask what exactly she saw in him because they were so incredibly different and Bonnie had a character that was too good.
In fact, Damon wasn't suspecting Bonnie of hiding demons under sage green eyes and a crooked smile that never quite reached happy. Not like the way Elena's innocent doe eyes held a familiar darkness.
Damon knew all about untamed obsession, could write a book about it, and when he saw it sitting in Elena Gilbert, it made him want to test the waters; see if he could swim in it.
One minute he was being the perfect man for her, the next, he was a serial murderer possessed by an unhealthy need to make the same mistakes over and over, that, if anything, grew in her proximity. When they weren't having sex, he was still somewhere fucking up because the more Elena accepted it- dismissed it- the more he truly knew that she loved him unconditionally. The dead bodies were piling up, his progression was on a downward spiral but Elena's love for him still prevailed.That was the kind of affection Damon craved, and Katherine never cared to receive the memo.
He could put his big boy pants on and be honest with himself in admitting that perhaps he was so initially enamored with Elena because Katherine's denial of him pinched him in the ribs.
Nothing could trump being tossed aside like a broken toy, and any woman who had the power to do that to a man like him needed to be deeply feared. They were in a boxing ring and Katherine was still undefeated. His folly, being the brother who cared too much and was secretly seeking an approval that Stefan had but could care less about, made him feel weak and vulnerable. Embarrassed even.
He could make things right with Elena though, steal her from right underneath his own brother's nose and glorify her to the point of making Katherine sick and all would be well in the world. Despite his failures, Damon could still win, equilibrium would be attained. But there was always a wrench in his plan.
When Bonnie walked into his life, he knew that she was truly the code he could never crack, the girl he could never ever get. The thought of it made him go absolutely berserk for a while. Bonnie was what he thought Elena was, thus the realization that he still hadn't gotten what he wanted in the end caused him to sprout a hatred for the little witch. He didn't care about her or for her and if she died, he could forget she existed and Elena could retain her rightful place in the hierarchy of unattainability.
Never in a million years had he imagined becoming friends with Bonnie. But he did. He got too close, saw too much and when he noticed she made some space for him in her big, already-at-capacity heart, something inside of him stirred.
The friendship, in itself, was a type of torture that was unfamiliar to him. He had the tendency to ruin relationships one way or another but Bonnie Bennett made it clear she wasn't giving up on him anytime soon, so he felt obliged to be a good person around her in every sense of the word. No killing people, no eating people, and definitely no fucking Bonnie.
Simple enough, right? But Damon was at war with all three and when his crazy emotions began to do that latching thing, he realized not only did he have to worry about not fucking her, but also about not allowing himself to desire her the way he desired Elena. (Because there was absolutely, positively no falling in love with Bonnie.)
She was the last person he should've been stuck with in the prison world but as fate would have it, there they were. Eating chocolate chip pancakes he cheffed up with whip cream.
"Bonnie, you're glowing." he said sardonically, knowing that it was a post-orgasm glow from the solo fun she was having upstairs a few hours ago. Not a million running faucets would make him miss the pregame of his favorite sport, even if it was just the sound of it. She did try her best to keep quiet when she convulsed herself into a third climax, but Damon had supernatural ears and Damon was a bad person who did bad things.
With that being said, he didn't hesitate to traipse upstairs when the faucet stopped and the shower head started. He needed a good whiff of it, if only to recall the smell of female anatomy.
Damon's salivary glands were working overtime when the scent hit him down the hall. He was a dehydrated man in the desert and in her room lay the reservoir, so he entered, and inhaled deeply then exhaled as if he was practicing yoga. Oh yes, this was peace. His mind began to wander on the scene the walls had the glory to witness, before falling back on the bed with outstretched arms, letting her scent huff out of the sheets with his added weight.
He could almost imagine her, performing for him, eye contact locked, asking if he really wanted to see thatbad.
Damon swallowed.
She was probably the timid type, pressing her legs together this way and that before caressing herself ever so slightly through the seat of her panties. After allowing her brain to stop admonishing her, she'd give in, dipping a finger in, maybe two for a decent stretch. But Damon would stretch her all the way out.
And sometimes he could imagine Bonnie a little wild, a tad uncontrollable with her legs spread wide and pulled back with a hand over her mouth to remind herself to not go over the edge. But Damon would split her in two.
Lightly, he pressed his palm against his zipper to alleviate the poke in his jeans. The friction of the small action made him release a groan, his hips lifted of their own volition craving a mouth, craving Bonnie. Craving his best bud wet and slick and open and begging. Oh, God. The things he would do to her if given the chance. The ways he would bend her. His eyes were glassy with a world only he could see, where Bonnie needed him back.
In the real world she was so resistant and tight but in Damon's world, he was fucking every screw loose. He'd make her go insane.
His dick was smothered by his jeans, but it didn't hinder it from demanding everything he couldn't give it, not now, not ever. He unzipped his pants to evaluate the tent in his boxers, feeling the tension in his scrotum rise. All for you, Bon Bon.
If he did just stay in her room like a creep until she finished showering, she wouldn't know what to do with him. Damon was certain she couldn't handle him, not with the curtains pulled back and the full act revealed. He had to be careful with her if he did ever approach her- a tight stroke up- he'd have to make it look like she wanted him more- a slow stroke back down- make it seem like she possessed some sort of control- when his hands cupped his scrotum he threw his head back on the pillow and sighed. Damon, with his shirt rumpled up, the waist of his jeans at his thigh, and his proud erection for his BFF, was the lowest tier of pining.
A mixture of anger and frustration flooded his chest knowing she would deny him, deny herself the pleasure of knowing Damon a little better because she was so damn virtuous, despite them both being on the verge of spontaneous combustion. He wanted to punish her for that.
What are you doing? He thought to himself, he really wanted to care. He really hoped to feel some sort of guilt but as the possibility of them ever returning back to their rightful dimension drifted out on a raft, his conscious was packing its bags too. Au revoir, bon voyage.
It was Bonnie's fault anyway. Her sexiness just snuck up on him. He always viewed her as prudent, but in the prison world he could see she was a sexual being just like any other person on earth. Every now and then he forgot but then she'd excuse herself, lock her door, turn the faucet on for up to an hour and never come back downstairs. So with him running out of topics for small talk, and being his unbelievably horny self, things were getting…unbearably hard.
Not only that, but lines were blurring. He could recall the morning they spent arguing over crossword puzzle answers, Bonnie's customary complaining about his pancakes, or her eyes lighting up when he suggested they watch The Bodyguard again with gummy bears and stove top popcorn. Then, when she came back from her shower, her skin was still moist enough in certain spots that her thin white t-shirt was practically see-through. And Bonnie had ditched bras a long time ago. With her little boy shorts that puckered so prettily between her legs.
He thought to himself, this the part where we have very filthy, very fulfilling sex, before realizing and remembering that despite feeling like an old married couple, cooped up in his house, they were besties. Besties to the point that Bonnie could feel comfortable wearing something she'd wear around Caroline and Elena with him and maybe he felt a little emasculated by that fact but it was hard to review the downside. Not with the slightest curve of areola winking at him.
Bless her heart, she didn't even realize the things she did to him but he wanted her to find out. Damon was probably at the point of no return in friend zone land, but damnit if he didn't always find a way.
Laying on her bed with his dick in hand while she showered, completely oblivious, felt like the farthest thing from finding a way.
So he removed himself, calmed down and started to fix breakfast, all the while wishing he was the witch and she the vampire just this once.
.