A/N: Hey peeps. Y'all are the . This chapter is told exclusively from Stefan's POV, which I'm nervous about. I haven't decided if I'll be alternating POV's, but when I feel Stefan needs to give a testimony, I'll deliver it. Thank you for reading! Enjoy! *Graphic language ahead; you've been warned*

||Stefan||

That moment of release, that moment of rhapsody my jaw unhinged, jutted out failing to keep the base part of myself contained. My back arched, furrowed brow slackened as my eyes burst open. A guttural roar spilled from my wide open mouth as I spilled my seed into her.

Body freezing from the chest up, it was an inferno beginning from my hipbone on down, right to the tips of my toes. I was embedded balls deep in the wettest pouch I ever had the privilege of being in, swimming in a sea of contracting elastic muscles that wrapped around my cock and squeezed for dear life. There was no escaping.

Lungs screaming for oxygen, sweat dripping, I, Stefan Salvatore came undone.

Soft, sultry laughter tickled my eardrums. I looked at her then, her glossy hair matted to her equally slick skin, lips parted, nostrils slightly flared. Deliberately she contracted her inner muscles, squeezing me—a wet vice around my dick, making me groan and jolt up from the table. Damn, we had sex on a table. I was depleted. There was nothing left except memories I wanted to relive again. But my dog was down for the count. Could feel the blood oozing out of me, flowing back to my heart and other organs—softening. However, that come hither, I'm-not-done-with-you-yet look in her eyes hardened me again.

Impossible.

"Have fucking mercy," I pleaded and sunk my fingers between hers, linking our hands together.

"Mercy? I don't know that word."

My laughter lacked humor and energy and those good ole eyelids desperately wanted to shut as the rest of my body craved to follow. Sleep was calling but it paled in comparison to the woman sitting astride me naked as the day she was born.

Greedily I drank in her appearance. Perfect breasts that filled my hands, dark nipples that responded to my touch and mouth, flat stomach, trim waistline, those powerful thighs, and those killer legs—though short were a wonder of their own. Sculpted calves I couldn't get enough of admiring from afar and up close.

But it was that face, though. A face that was both innocent and seductive simultaneously, like a Botticelli painting. A face like Bonnie Bennett's. Oh god I'm having a sex dream about Bonnie Bennett. My roommate.

I jackknifed upright in bed very much aware of the fact I was granite hard, erection straining the cotton weave fibers of my boxers. Confusedly, I looked around my bedroom to make sure I was actually sleeping in my bed, and hadn't done anything incredibly stupid. Like fuck my roommate. I was alone, horny, heart pounding, and frustrated. Not a good way to start a morning. Rapidly I began firing questions at myself demanding to know why I was having a sex dream about Bonnie—a friend, practically a sister to me. I should feel wrong about that, disgusted at myself. Strangely…I wasn't.

It's been two weeks. I needed to get laid. Clearly.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I planted my feet on the floor at the same time my bedroom door flew open.

I quickly tossed the sheet over my lap.

Bonnie, fully clothed, leaned against the doorjamb and sipped her coffee. A corner of her eye crinkled as she observed me with my hair sticking up every which way, a feat because my hair never moved.

Innocent face on I waited for her to say whatever she had to say, but she watched me over the rim of her mug and fear gnawed inside of me that she'd figure out what I dreamt about—more specifically that I dreamt about her.

We had been friends for what seemed like forever, six years, and I would be the first to raise both hands and say she was beautiful, sexy as fuck. I'd be a liar if I said temptation hadn't poked me on the shoulder, but Bonnie was my best friend. Off limits.

Willing my erection to go away was taking a bit more brain power, what with the star of my dreams standing in the threshold and all, her perfume wafting to my nose. "What is it?"

"You overslept."

"Thanks for waking me up," I snarked.

Bonnie smirked. "You're flushed. Good dream?" one of her perfect eyebrows rose.

"It was a nightmare."

"Liar."

Touché.

Her lips were dark again today. Must be a sign of something because she typically reserved the dark, bold colors for when she was on the prowl. It was…I peeped the time. It was eighteen minutes after seven on a Monday. Fucking Mondays. Anyways, Bonnie worked from home most days so I wondered who she was meeting up with. A breakfast date? Did those even exist?

I did what I could to sound casual. "Where are you headed off to?"

"I have a meet-and-greet down at GWU. My editor wants me to narc on the private lives of tenured professors," she scoffed and chased a drop of coffee on her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Did not help with my hard on. "As if they'll open up to a complete stranger. Then again everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame."

I nodded and shot daggers at her to go away so I could either take care of my issue, or scare it off with cold water.

Bonnie sauntered inside my bedroom and plopped down next to me, handed me her mug. I accepted it and placed my lips on top of the lipstick stain marring the edge, drank. Perfectly blended mocha flavored caffeine.

"Better?" she asked.

"Nope," I passed the mug back.

"Have any plans tonight?"

"No. Amber isn't talking to me since I declined heading out to the bar with her sorority sisters the other night," I shrugged. "She didn't call or texted me at all or return my phone calls."

Bonnie snorted and sang, "You're in the doghouse."

"Probably."

I wouldn't be for long. Amber had a particular talent for sniffing out whenever I allowed outside distractions to distract me. Two days max of no communication was the limit. On day three, she'd pop up outside of my office with an invitation to grab lunch or take a coffee break where her hands would get missing in my pants, and she'd let me grope her come-on-me tits or between her legs to reel me back in, remind me she had a world-class mouth and knew what to do with it. I fell for it, hook, line, sinker and didn't feel any kind of shame because I liked her. She was easy to like.

Dinners, movies, drinks on U Street, watching live performers entertain crowds outside of metro centers, an after work mixer, happy hour at a grill while watching Sportscenter had been the sum total of our three and a half-month relationship. Couldn't forget about the sex. Five dates spaced evenly apart in four weeks and I slid my sausage into home base on our one month 'anniversary'.

Being with Amber was simple. I didn't have to think about breathing, being witty, charming, or annihilating whatever stereotype she pegged me to fall under. She was a much welcomed change after being shoehorned to the most self-absorbed, wishy-washy, delusional woman on the planet whose name wasn't worth passing through my lips ever again.

Bonnie's arm brushed against mine, my skin pebbled. I stared at her. It was hard not to stare. Her pupils dilated, her mouth twitched, and she smelled fucking awesome.

"Do you have plans tonight?" I cleared my throat.

"I might get with the girls if they're available. We haven't had a ladies night in a while."

A lineup of her friends paraded through my mind. Accomplished women that liked drinking Shiraz and gush over shoes and how well-behaved or trifling their significant other was. They were an intimidating bunch. If you didn't have your shit together, you'd hear about it.

There was something else pressing on my brain (other than my massive erection). Whether or not to bring it up was the question and I didn't want Bonnie to read too much into it. Yet I never handled curiosity well. When I wanted answers I didn't stop poking, prodding, and rambling until I got them.

"Tell Tanya I'm still interested in seeing her naked." Bonnie shoved me. "Quick question…"

"Quick answer."

I playfully growled at her. Her smirk stretched wider. "Are you…gonna call that Jared guy?"

Bonnie slighted me with a look that I translated into: Stop pretending like you don't know his name. Of course I knew because Amber said it about a million times at his art show this past weekend. Every other word that traipsed out of her mouth had been: Jared this and Jared that and Jared is super this and Jared is super that and Jared is going to be best at this because he's already the best at that. If Amber was his PR person, give the woman a raise. But since they were friends her enthusiasm I couldn't find alarming. She was proud and let everyone know it.

What was I complaining about again? Or my point? Right, Bonnie and Jared.

"Are you?" I pressed.

"I'm not sure. He's handsome and I'm fairly sure my vagina wouldn't mind sitting on his face," that was Bonnie. Blunt as hell. "But I don't know. I'll have to see. In a moment you can have an instant connection with someone, but is it real or just born out of the circumstance? Two strangers meeting, one of them literally putting his soul on display…would be a bit unnerving, leading him to potentially latch on to anyone who isn't outwardly, or aggressively coming on to him."

Never take this woman at face value. She could analyze the hidden meaning in practically anything leaving you viewing something from an angle you never pictured an angle to be.

"All right so you wouldn't mind boning him," I deduced and ignored that little niggling sensation in my knuckles to plant them somewhere fleshy, "yet you don't want to give it a shot because you don't believe he's honestly attracted to you?"

Had my intelligent roommate not seen her face or body for that matter?

"Or there could be another reason," she hinted ominously but wouldn't look at me.

"Another reason like what? You think he's a player?"

"Could be…only one way to find out, though. If a guy wants your pussy and only your pussy he'll go out of his way to get it. Doesn't mean he isn't out trolling for other pussy while waiting on yours."

All this talk about pussy. My hand almost started to rub my dick, but I stopped.

Friday when we made it home, ordered pizza, and burned though almost the entire season of Daredevil, Bonnie and I parted ways at one in the morning. Thirst had driven me out of bed half an hour later and, walking past her door, I heard the sound of reggae music and soft moans. Bonnie only played reggae when her B.O.B was pulled out of hibernation.

I wondered who she had been thinking about. Let it go because it was none of my business. Now my brain was trying to fill in the blanks because of that stupid, albeit awesome dream.

My gaze drifted to Bonnie's hands. They were slender and before I could stop myself, I was running the back of my knuckle down her arm. She watched, said nothing, chest heaved up and down at its regulate beat. But I felt the hairs on her forearm rising. My fingers curled over hers, she squeezed mine in return.

It felt like heat was everywhere. Between us, over us, shrouding us. She was warm.

I said, "Unless you call him, Bonnie, how will you know that it's your and only your pussy that he wants?" Don't think about your roommate's pussy, Stefan.

Bonnie seemed to mull over my words. "You're right. If I call, I'll call. If I don't then it's settled."

"Perhaps you should." Was I seriously encouraging this? I didn't have anything against Jared. It's just he was too heavily linked to Amber.

A dimple formed over Bonnie's left eyebrow.

"Godric?" I figured I'd just throw that out there.

"Who?" she winked. I laughed. "He called me last night and left me several messages. He's deeply hurt I ditched him. Said there were about a million other girls who'd love to go out with him. Where they are, I sure as hell don't know."

I let Bonnie's hand go. "Are you going to stop using him now for free meals?"

Bonnie bobbed her head, hair tickling her bare shoulders. She was wearing a mini dress in a bright turquoise color. Her feet were still bare. Cute toes.

My roommate caught me looking at her toes. I grinned, she rolled her eyes.

"As far as I'm concerned, Godric is history. Whether or not he'll accept the memo is to be determined. I need to go and you need to shower. There are delays on the red line, FYI."

I huffed. "That's nothing new. There are always delays on the red line. Let me know when it's running on time for once. That'll be news."

Bonnie chuckled lightly, rose from the bed—ass in my face (my dick jumped), stretched her left arm above her head. "I'll see you later. Have a good day, Stefan."

"Stay out of trouble, Bonnie."

She wandered out of my room without a backwards glance, shutting the door behind her. I counted slowly, waited.

The door creaked open and Bonnie poked her head through. "Can I borrow twenty bucks and pay you back on Friday?"

"You know where my wallet is better than I do."

Bonnie grinned hugely. "Thank you, Stefan," the timbre of her voice deepened.

I cleared my throat, nodded, and waved her off. The door shut again and when I felt it was safe, I tossed off the bedsheet and rubbed the rigid length in my boxers. The head throbbed, little big dude was crying and I was right on the edge of crying with him.

Showered and attired in my worker bee threads, I rooted around the kitchen looking for something to eat. The lightbulb in the fridge was blinding and that's how Bonnie and I gauged it was time to go to the store. The bills were split evenly between us, but when either of us was running low on cash and it was time to hit the market, we'd pool our funds together and shop. When things were booming, we alternated. I believe it was her turn to go, but since Bonnie could survive on eating Ramen noodles for a week straight, it appeared shopping for food would land on my shoulders.

She was gone, the apartment quiet. Most mornings I'd hear her pecking away or jabbering on her cell, checking sources or haggling with her editor. When Bonnie was around there was constant noise because she was so energetic. I hated the quiet but relished it at times since most of my day was spent talking to others, talking to myself, or listening to people talk. Writing was something shared between us. Bonnie was the relationship guru columnist while I was the project manager at a small, yet respectable publication. I wrote for pleasure and what I wrote would never see the light of day.

Opening the freezer, I pulled out a box of Eggo's that was dangerously light. Score! There were two left. Awesome.

Powering on my laptop, I checked the major news for any stories while my waffles browned in the toaster. Minutes later, food ready, mouth ready I dumped my breakfast on a plate, grabbed the syrup and what was left of the OJ.

My tenacious roommate hadn't left the apartment like I assumed. She came rushing into the kitchen, tote bag on her arm, one Nike sneaker on her tiny foot, the other in her hand. She made a beeline for my waffles.

"Oh, you made me breakfast."

"I didn't. Hands off, woman," I held the plate aloft.

"Let me have a bite."

"Absolutely not."

"You're going to let me starve? Let my stomach do all the talking for me at this meet and greet? I thought we were better than that, Stefan."

Bonnie broke out the big guns and stuck out her bottom lip. I was defenseless against that bottom lip. Sighing in resignation, I cut her a perfect triangle of waffle swathed in syrup and fed it to her. She smiled while chewing and feeling generous I cut her another piece. Before I knew it she had swindled me out of an entire waffle.

"I hope you're happy," I grumbled.

Her lips pressed against my cheek and she smacked my ass. "I am. Thanks. See you."

The minute Bonnie flounced out of the apartment, my cell phone rang. I spied the caller before answering.

It was my mother.

"Hey mom," I stated warily. Lily Salvatore only ever called when she had bad news.

"Stefan I'm glad I was able to reach you. How are you, honey?"

She was throwing in an endearment, good Lord this was bad. "I'm fine for the most part. What's going on?"

My mother cleared her throat. "I-I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm getting married."

Didn't know she was seeing anybody. Weird. A son should know if his mother was dating, right? Nevertheless, I guess I was sort of, kind of happy for her since my mom's last relationship was with my father whom she divorced ten years ago.

"That's great, mom. Congratulations."

"Ah…there's more."

I braced myself. "Okay."

"It's Enzo, sweetie."

I blinked once and a ringing noise bloomed in my ears. Enzo who used to be Damon's best friend Enzo? Enzo who's twenty-five years younger than my mother Enzo? Enzo who slept with my college girlfriend on my birthday Enzo?

Are. You. Out. Of. Your. Gotdamn. Mind?

"Stefan…please say something."

I did. "I have to get to work."

Click.

A/N: Thanks for reading.