A/N: Merci beaucoup to everyone who left me a review for last chapter. XOXO.
Getting caught in the rain happened to people in movies. Well, she supposed it happened to people in real life too especially if there was no prior warning of a shower. The sky opened up and you're drenched, finding yourself dashing for cover, for a place to escape the torrent happening above your head. But it's too late. The damage had already been done. You're soaked, cold, waterlogged. The only things left to do were curse and laugh and search for a towel.
They were sieged with blissful awkwardness unsure of what to say or where to look, Damon more so than Bonnie. She had pushed out of his arms, stood to her feet and stared at the gray skies which faded to navy, but a rebellious ray of sunlight lashed through the clouds.
"Bonnie? We need to go."
"I know."
Damon, too, pushed to his feet, staggered a bit as he shrugged off his leather jacket and, with averted eyes draped it across Bonnie's tiny shoulders.
"I can…I can hear it, Damon," she said, her voice whisper thin.
"Hear what?"
"Everything. How do you make it stop?"
"Find one sound and put all your focus on it."
There was too much to choose from. The birds chirping, the gurgling of the lake as it continued to settle, the grains of sand shifting as the wind pushed the tiny pebbles into new formations, the knocking of tree branches, the scuttle of insects. It was too much. Bonnie winced and slapped her hands over her ears. She bent forward a little, teeth grinding. She knew Damon was asking her what was wrong but she could barely hear him.
Not until he stood in front of her, hands framing her wet cheeks. He tilted her head up to look at him.
"What?"
"…listen to…m…vo…ice…"
"I can't…"
He shook her a little, "LISTEN TO MY VOICE!"
"All right, you don't have to yell. Wait."
Those noises she hadn't been able to hear thirty minutes ago were quiet now. Slowly Bonnie smiled and her grin was contagious.
A crack of thunder and lightning made vampire and witch jump.
Eyes focused on the rapidly darkening sky, Damon reiterated, "We need to go."
Somehow they ended up at the boardinghouse soaked to the gills.
Her eyes couldn't help but covertly look around. Lily had yet to forfeit her quest to bring her family from the Victorian era to the 21st century. Being ambushed by Damon's mama didn't account for why she suddenly felt so nervous or that she was doing something wrong. Bonnie tried to shake it off as she followed behind Damon.
The front door opening suddenly made it difficult to swallow. Matters weren't helped much by his broad back, nor the wet shirt stuck to it that showed, in fine detail, his sinewy muscles bunching and flexing.
Damon held the door open hardly leaving much room for Bonnie to skirt by without some part of them touching. But a clap of lightning and thunder hustled her inside, her rear end almost coming into contact with his crotch as she brushed by him.
The foyer seemed smaller than usual with the two of them standing there. Damon kicked off his shoes, staring at her the whole while. The air felt steamy and muggy, and each time they exhaled the temperature went up higher. She licked her lips. He watched. Her cheeks reddened and she forced herself to take in the surroundings she was more than acquainted with. The paneled walls, the clean and shiny hard wood floors covered here and there with Persian and Aubusson rugs, and the air, it smelled surprisingly like banana bread.
That relaxed her, somewhat.
"Let me get you something to change into," he lightly touched the small of her back as he ushered her deeper into the living room. "You can shower if you want."
His touch singed and seemed to have a direct line to her air supply because it suddenly became hard to breathe. A shower was right up her alley but Bonnie was uncertain she could get herself to move upstairs.
Damon vanished, tight jeans nearly falling off his ass showing he wasn't wearing any underwear.
Cheeks blotted and screaming, Bonnie touched her face. She was shocked there was no resounding hiss the moment her cold fingers made contact with her superheated skin.
Thundering feet down the stairs kicked started her heart, which hadn't calmed down in who knew how long. In her head, Bonnie already played out the scenario. She'd accept the change of clothes, find a bathroom, freshen up, change, exit bathroom, and thank him for his hospitality. She'd decline any offers of food, drink, or waiting out the storm. She's driven in harsher weather than this and she didn't live too far, she'd be all right. She'd offer him a smile and promptly leave without looking back, or staring at him in a way that told Damon everything she was feeling. They would part as friends with no rudimentary awkwardness between them. Yes. That was the plan.
The plan hit its first snag when he returned sans shirt, hair still wet, chest still damp, pants riding way too low to be decent. Bonnie barely saw the towel and shirt he carried in his hands as she was using everything in her arsenal not to stare, ogle, gape like she'd never seen a muscled torso before.
Bonnie could not locate her tongue. Damon wasn't obscenely buff, nor gangly. He was chiseled fineness that matched his sculpted face.
The color of his eyes darkened as Bonnie drank her fill. She waited for his kissable lips to curl into a knowing smirk. It never came.
He half-heartedly stretched the items to her leaving Bonnie little choice but to come to him. Come closer. "Here you go."
Her feet were cement blocks. Bonnie stood a foot away and reached for the provisions, taking care to make sure their fingers didn't overlap.
She heard every breath Damon took and there was no question about him hearing hers. Their lungs were getting an aerobic workout without the actual exercise. His massive chest lifted and expanded and he moved forward, closing the gap.
Bonnie barked at her legs to move, to step away. They refused to help her out.
Half a step and his stomach would be crushed against her breasts. Her nipples hardened into painful points at the thought. His dizzying, towering height didn't intimidate her. It was actually comforting. The quivering in her stomach—familiar. The trembling of her limbs—familiar. The stiffening of her clit and pulse in her quim—familiar.
But he was the wrong damn person to make her feel this way.
Blood pounded everywhere. Head, tits, fingers, toes, pussy.
"You're fighting it," Damon astutely deduced.
"I need to go," she remained where she was.
Bolstered, he draped a hand on her hip, gripping it gently, fighting his instinct to slam her fully against him. "Tell me you're not wet."
Bonnie's eyebrows climbed higher. He was doing a bang up job of short circuiting her brain.
"Tell me you don't want my tongue in you."
His phone rang startling the both of them. Bonnie pushed at his chest and flew to the front door. But he was right behind her, trapping her between it and his body. He thrust his hips forward sinking his denim covered erection right between her ass.
"Please, don't go."
Bonnie swallowed a moan. "I have to go because this is wrong. I'm…we're friends."
"We can be more."
Bonnie almost laughed hysterically. "Do you even hear what you're saying? What about Elena?"
"Bonnie…"
"No."
She cast the evil eye over her shoulder that made him gulp nervously.
"I'm not giving up," he promised and moved just enough for Bonnie to wrestle the front door open.
She paused and stared at him. He was too beautiful. Too jaded. He was her friend and he had the capacity to hurt her like no one else.
Bonnie shot out of the boardinghouse and came to an abrupt stop. There stood her mentor wearing that same black coat with that same staid expression. The rain was still failing but not a drop landed on Dahlia.
"You've done well, witchling. Today you will rest."
A horn honking spooked Bonnie and she stomped on the gas. She did it again. Let her mind drift with images from her unconscious mind while she went about on autopilot. Her brain, a layered cake, interspersed actual events with her dreams that certain parts felt more real than others, and the parts that made a far deeper impression never actually happened.
Unfair, Bonnie pouted as she drove down the familiar streets of Mystic Falls. She sighed at the sensation of heat burning through her thighs as she thought of Damon close to her, saying they could be more. This was a brand of torture she was unused to and she could either let it have its evil fun or banish it to the ether.
Despite what could have happened between she and Damon had she not broken the spell in time, a chasm had formed. Bonnie sensed Damon's estrangement even as he carried her back home since her legs refused to cooperate. He didn't say anything but his mind was spinning the same as hers.
He had dropped her right there on the welcome mat, mumbled something about her getting dry and warm before turning and leaving.
"Damon?" she called after him. He paused but didn't face her. Bonnie didn't know what she had been prepared to say to him, but she hadn't wanted him to leave. "We should talk."
His rigid shoulders slumped and he nodded mutely. "We will. Later." Damon was gone after that.
Twelve hours later and Bonnie hadn't heard from Damon nor been accosted by the doppelganger which told her everything she needed to know. Her hothead of a best friend had yet to open his trap to his girlfriend, and though Bonnie knew she had just as much responsibility to tell Elena, she felt since she wasn't the one dating her, it needed to come from Damon.
Nothing that transpired had been their fault.
But loving her best friend beyond platonically…Once you opened a door you had to deal with whatever stood on the other side. Opening it involved risks. Risk disrupted your harmony. Risk invited something in you weren't prepared to handle. Risk allowed something of value to walk out.
Dahlia's spell forced Bonnie to be honest with herself. She wanted Damon. The question remained: If he wanted her too, were they brave enough to end the one of the most significant relationships in their lives for each other?
Sadly, she didn't think it would ever happen.
Bonnie smashed her molars together and pulled into the driveway of her destination.
She switched off the AC that had been going at full blast though it wasn't hot enough for it. Anchoring her magic to the sun came with side effects. One, her body heat doubled, and as a result the windows kept fogging up. Two, her eyes had yet to return to their natural green hue. The irises had been taken over by a coppery orange tint if she had to describe them. Bonnie, worrying her bottom lip hoped it wouldn't be permanent.
Sighing, she added her weird eye color and abnormally high body temperature as two more things to talk to Dahlia about.
Cutting the engine to the car, Bonnie crossed the pavement to the front door of the residence she was visiting, knocked. About a minute later it opened.
"Bonnie? Hey."
"Hey, Matt. Mind if I come in?"
The police cadet winced feeling like his retinas were being attacked. Why was it so damn bright under an overcast sky? "Sure," he shuffled aside, holding his left arm close to his body.
Bonnie stepped into the former Lockwood mansion. A shiver went through her. She could feel the ghosts of Richard and Carol Lockwood, and almost expected the latter to waltz down the spiral staircase. Bonnie had never really talked to either of Tyler's late parents beyond an obligatory hello. An odd, fleeting sense of regret swam through her.
"How are you feeling?" she hugged Matt carefully, mindful of his injury.
He wagged his blond head once they separated and led Bonnie to one of the dens. "Being stabbed in the stomach, all things considered I've been better."
Bonnie knew that feeling. Literally.
"Hey, did you get contacts?" Matt questioned.
"No."
Matt stopped and stared intently at her eyes, and the longer he did the more self-conscious Bonnie became. "Do I want to know details?"
"Probably…in another ten years," she chortled. "I'm fine. It doesn't hurt or anything."
"Are you sure? They're…it feels like I'm looking at the sun."
Bonnie nibbled the inside of her cheek, shrugged. "They don't bother me. I just hope it isn't permanent."
They swept into the parlor. The HD television was on, a movie unfolding on the screen. One that earned Matt a speculative brow who scrambled to find the remote buried beneath papers and magazines. Bonnie bit into her lip. He had been watching Marie Antoinette, the Kirsten Dunst version.
"Let me turn that off," he laughed deprecatingly.
"You don't have to change it," Bonnie settled on the couch. "I haven't watched this in forever."
Matt appeared uncertain for a second but gave up the perfunctory search and retook his spot on the sofa. The two friends watched the Queen of France spend her country into bankruptcy for a few minutes.
"Can I get you anything?" Matt remembered his manners.
"No, I'm fine. I just came to check on you after the incident with Lily."
"Yeah," Matt's face darkened. "She filled my monthly quota of being assaulted by a vampire."
The hatred was unmistakable in his voice.
"She hurt you because of me," Bonnie informed gloomily.
"Nah, she hurt me because she wanted to. I heard most of her conversation when she stole my phone to call you. She wants something from you, and whatever it is, I hope you don't give it to her, Bon."
"I have no plans to, Matt," Bonnie attested stoically. If Lily kept barking up that particular tree of using intimidation tactics to get her family back, Bonnie had something up her sleeve. "You don't mind if I hang out here for a while, do you?"
Matt smiled, "No, I don't mind at all."
There was being an asshole and feeling like an asshole. Damon prided himself on being the former, but he was certainly the latter as he dropped his bum on a barstool and flagged down the bartender.
He was dodging all personal responsibility today though he couldn't afford to. Damon had a threadbare relationship to repair, a brother to turn inside out emotionally, a mother to keep tabs on. But none of that sparked any kind of fire into him to get the hell on. Mentally he was a hundred shades of screwed up. Emotionally…his stomach turned thinking about it.
He could feel embarrassed for his actions, for some of the utterances he made. Explicit declarations typically egged on by alcohol. Yet Damon resisted pummeling himself as he heard the echo of his promise, "…if I catch you that pussy is mine."
Had he really said that? His cheeks flushed.
"That kind of day, eh?" the bartender assumed as he gave Damon a once over, taking in his surly features, and slumped shoulders.
"Just give me my usual," Damon snapped.
The bartender harrumphed but dug under the bar for three rock glasses and an entire bottle of Elijah Craig. He placed the items in front of the despondent vampire who barely allowed the man to draw his hands back before snatching the bottle and twisting off the cap. In his peripheral he saw the barkeep hovering and chose to ignore him.
Damon filled up all three glasses and slammed the bottle on the bar. If only he could resurrect the Damon who fed off booty calls to clear his mind. Drinking hard liquor would have to do the trick. Naturally, Damon doubted anything would really help, but he wouldn't mind trying.
He sighed, pushing the first glass back and forth, staring at the honey colored alcohol almost wishing an answer to his problems would fall out of the sky and land right into his lap. He was tired of walking around with this gaping hole in his chest that sprung up because of yesterday's events.
Why won't it just go the fuck away already? He growled mentally and could feel the area beneath his eyes grow hot. If he didn't get a handle on himself he'd vamp out right here, and turn this place into a slaughter house. Bonnie would love that.
Shit, he was thinking about her again though admittedly he hadn't stopped. Why didn't he say anything to her before leaving last night? Why did he leave right after seeing her home knowing they had a mountain load to talk to about? The answer was simple and did nothing for his reputation. He was scared and unprepared to go there.
"If you want my advice…" the bartender's voice split into Damon's musings. "If a woman has you drinking in the middle of the day it may be time to let her go."
Damon had the glass poised to kiss his lips, but he paused and stared at the bartender. "Who the hell said anything about a woman? I could be having an overall shitty kind of day. Or week."
The bartender, who the locals called Logan because they believed he bore some strange resemblance Hugh Jackman, sized Damon up.
"You come in here every single day, man. Usually you just look bored. Some days pissed off with the whole world. Today…like your old lady left you for another man, maybe even a woman. I've never seen you look like you rather take up lodgings in a sewer until today."
Damon was astounded at the bastard's audacity, but then he chuckled darkly, raised his glass, and took his shot to the head.
Logan leaned his elbows on the bar surface standing a good distance away from Damon so he wouldn't be directly in his face. The crowd was thin at this hour. Things wouldn't start to pick up until after three when the high school crowd rolled in. Therefore, Damon was his only customer at the moment, and he had been starved for conversation.
"So what did you do to piss her off?"
Damon snorted and shook his head, disbelieving this was what his life had come to. When a bartender of a stupid backwoods town like Mystic Falls wanted to gab and help him reach some kind of revelation about the utter humiliation that was his existence. That was a sure sign it was time to move. Especially if said bartender could so easily judge his moods. But maybe he could benefit from the perspective of someone who didn't know him as long as Stefan had, nor shared any kind of history with him.
Damon gave Logan his full attention. "Believe it or not, I'm not the one at fault. My…" he couldn't tell the barkeep he'd been spelled to want to fuck his best friend. His mind raced with clever edits, and he went with, "Someone I don't like decided to fuck with me and my best friend and things could have ended in disaster. They didn't. I'm just…processing."
Logan nodded, "And your bestie?"
Damon winced, "See that's the thing. I haven't talked to her about it. I'm going to, I am," he rushed to add. "I don't know…"
"Where you need to start. Was she hurt?"
"I don't know."
"All you can do is check on her, man. No one wants to feel alone after they've been through some shit."
"Yeah," Damon muttered absently, picking at the label on the bottle. "But what if…" he looked at Logan, "what if what happened to us changed everything between us? What if…we can't go back to the way things used to be?"
"Nothing stays the same forever. Either you remain stagnant or you evolve. But you gotta ask yourself: would it suck if things changed? Or would things be better if they don't?"
A couple happened to stroll up to the bar instantly capturing Logan's attention. He prowled over to serve them. Damon didn't care. He had done enough sharing and soul-searching for the day.
Finishing off the rest of his shots, he dropped the appropriate amount of money on the bar and added ten bucks for the micro therapy session. Climbing off the stool, Damon wasn't terribly surprised to run into Dahlia.
He gave her a mocking bow, "Madam Life Ruiner, how are you this fine afternoon?"
"Better than you from the looks of things."
Damon almost retorted if she'd looked in a mirror in the last thousand years but knew that wouldn't be smart nor go over well.
Instead, he acted rashly by hustling Dahlia to a dark corner knowing full well he was pushing his luck by manhandling her. The deadly glint in her abnormally tawny eyes served noticed she wouldn't tolerate him touching her again. She tugged her arm free, cocked her head and glared at him with cool intent.
"That was a messed up thing you did to us yesterday," Damon sneered. "But it still makes me question what are you're really after. And spare me shit about helping Bonnie reach her potential. No one has come into her life in the last four years that ever had her best interest in mind."
Dahlia arched a superior brow. "I'm assuming this is coming from a place of your own guilt. We've already had this conversation once before, vampire and I am not the sort to repeat myself. I know everything your paramour has been through."
The tendons in Damon's neck protruded as he fought to keep his voice down and his temper in check. "She's not my fucking paramour."
Dahlia's smile was cold.
"You had her anchor her magic to the sun?" Damon accused. "The fucking sun? That could have killed her. Or she could have killed us trying to break your stupid ass spell. You're playing games with our lives and it needs to stop."
"Well, since you're standing before me berating me on things you know nothing about it would seem your fears are unfounded." The old witch paused. "I was wrong about something though."
"A first, I'm assuming."
"I possess enough scruples to admit when I've misjudged. I thought you to be a hindrance to Bonnie's tuition but no. You're quite the opposite. In many ways you're another anchor for her. A familiar almost."
Damon gulped.
"It is a rare thing indeed for a witch to foster the kind of relationship you two share. It is heretical to our beliefs but also…extraordinary. It is not my place to say more than I already have. You love her and yet you fight it."
"All right, I'm done."
"Coward. Of many things Bonnie needs she needs a man not a boy and you are certainly a boy."
Damon's nostrils flared.
"Why can't you admit what you feel?"
"Because I'm in love with someone else!"
And he said that loud enough to have several heads turning in their direction. Heat stung Damon's cheeks.
Dahlia moved closer, "Are you sure about that?"
Five minutes later Damon staggered out of Mystic Grill and dropped into the bucket seat of his whip. He was fast but there was certain truths he couldn't outrun.
Phone glued to the palm of her hand, she willed it to ring, though she ceaselessly berated herself for not taking off to find Damon effing Salvatore. How could he humiliate her like that and then just up and run for the hills?
"Fucking coward," Elena Gilbert fumed.
Could she regard Damon's calling out another woman's name while she blew him as a Freudian slip? It was amazing how the ego and heart worked in concert to fill in blanks to rile up or simmer down her anger and misgivings about the situation. How it tried to give Damon the benefit of the doubt and argue the better part of the afternoon had been spent talking about Bonnie directly and indirectly, so therefore she been on his mind. But…
The way Damon said her name…that's what irked her. And what of his behavior before that terrible moment in the shower? Damon had been agitated and jittery, snappish and spacing out. She had no idea what had been going on with him, and she honestly couldn't remember the last time he confided in her about anything. They were in a relationship but honestly these last few weeks Damon had been a ghost.
Every encounter involving Bonnie and Damon she witnessed filtered through Elena's head. The smiles, the lingering looks, him cockblocking Klaus and Stefan at the ball; it came tumbling forward colliding with her insecurities and taunting from Caroline who boldly proclaimed one of them wanted to fuck the other.
Had they?
Elena turned from the window hearing tires drive across pine needles and rocks.
The prodigal boyfriend had returned.
The rustic bungalow cushioned between sprawling trees never appeared more intimidating to Damon than it did in this instant. When he got right down to it, there were only two ways things could go down. All right three. Badly. Horribly. Or Horribly badly. Head hanging low, Damon pushed air in and out of his lungs psyching himself up to face the inevitable and do the inevitable. The idea of what he was about to do, he would rather take a dip in a pool full of rotted animal flesh. But this had to be done. For a while he had been living a double life. And it was in those poignant seconds of awareness that Damon saw the irony and understood how being trapped in the middle fucking sucked.
Three years ago he thought it had been a selfish statement Elena made: choosing one and losing the other. Now being in that same situation he understood her hesitation, her waffling emotions, her indecision, her refusal to actually think about her feelings and make a sound and fair decision. Hurting someone could be remarkably easy and incredibly hard.
His boots left tracks on the damp ground as he drew closer to the porch. If the world decided to end he wouldn't fight it. He would happily let this be the last moment of his life.
On the porch now his hand hovered above the knob. Throat closing, eyes stinging, Damon twisted the knob and ambled inside.
The living room was vacant but his brow did furrow at the duffle bag waiting on the couch. The bag belonged to Elena.
Who was now coming down the stairs. She paused at seeing him, lips compressed so tightly together they were almost white. Her eyes fell away and she cleared the rest of the stairs, rounded the corner and headed straight for her luggage.
"Where are you going?" Damon asked in a graveled tone.
"Back to the dorms."
"Did Stefan flip his switch?"
Elena scoffed.
"Where is he?" Damon felt unease creep along.
Elena stopped her packing, glared. "I let him go."
Eyes bulged Damon stood in front of Elena so fast tendrils of her hair flew up. "What the hell do you mean you let him go?"
She shoved him to get some breathing room, "I mean, Damon I let your brother go because you're too fucking preoccupied to make him and us by extension your top priority. Face it! I was never going to be enough to get Stefan to welcome his humanity in with open arms. Neither of us is capable of doing it. So why bother?"
"Elena," Damon scrubbed the back of his neck. "I know my head has been all over the place since I came up with the idea…"
"No," she cut him off with an imperial hand. "You've been preoccupied way before we kidnapped Stefan. You haven't been here since Bonnie came back." Elena waited for him to deny it.
Damon opened his mouth to do just that, but the shaky smile Elena graced him with stopped him cold in his self-explaining tracks.
"I think I have a pretty good idea why things have changed but I just need to hear it," Elena pled softly.
The last part of that dredged up an unpleasant memory in Damon. The night he asked Katherine plainly, no bullshit, no chaser if she loved him. Ever loved him. He wanted to beg Elena not to do this to him so he wouldn't destroy her like Katherine had destroyed him that night. His intestines like that brutal day were tying into knots, and he was fairly sure if he talked blood would pour out of his mouth.
Moistening her lips, eyes clouding with tears, Elena breathed out, "Are you in love with Bonnie?"
Damon cursed in Italian and wished Elena had asked him anything but that. However, he thought of the relief he would feel before guilt inexorably flooded his conscience.
When he didn't answer right away, Elena asked again though repeating the question was sapping her of energy. "Are you in love with…."
"Yes."
Spending the day with Matt turned out to be far more cathartic than Bonnie expected. They binged on pizza, chips, and soda while getting caught up on several Netflix series'. She hated to feel oddly thankful to Dahlia for giving her a night of freedom but she needed the detox. However, throughout the day when one ear wasn't listening for a phone call that never came, Bonnie couldn't trample down her curiosity about the new strength of her powers.
Getting a handle on her body heat was tantamount. Matt had cranked on the AC, even found a portable fan, but still he perspired profusely. Over and over Bonnie tried to leave to give him some relief, but he waved her concerns aside constantly reminding Bonnie they hadn't spent any real time together since she escaped the prison world.
"You really are fire now, aren't you?" he snorted good-naturedly.
Yeah, Bonnie supposed she was.
Halfway to her humble abode, her cell rang. Her heart lurched and her stomach flipped once she spied who was calling.
Bonnie let her phone ring a few more times before answering.
"We need to talk," Damon began without preamble.
Her eyes glinted at his lack of etiquette. "Where are you?"
"Parked in front of the 'Welcome to Mystic Falls' sign."
Bonnie wedged her phone between shoulder and cheek, palmed the steering wheel to make a U-turn. "Give me ten minutes."
Nine minutes later she pulled her Prius to the shoulder and crept along until she parked behind Damon's Camaro.
Climbing out of her car, the smell of rain was heavy on the air. She softly closed the driver's side door and tentatively joined Damon who sat on the hood of his car.
He didn't look at her or say anything when she planted herself next to him. His headlights were trained on the sign; a bottle of bourbon rested near his boot that was planted on the ground. This was symbolic for Damon. He had toasted the sign of his hometown right before driving his car into the Grill igniting the charge that had been set by Matt and Jeremy. It was where his relationship with Elena went out with a bang and where his friendship with Bonnie, not necessarily started but the door had been opened.
Gnawing her lip, Bonnie tossed Damon furtive glances unable to decipher his neutrality. An inordinate number of minutes expired with neither of them uttering a peep. Tension congealed like the clouds that were rolling in from the east. Ozone thick in the air shrouded them. Slashes of lightning served as a warning to get to safety, yet here they stood on an open road.
"If you're not going to say anything…" Bonnie began.
"There's something I need to do," Damon interrupted, seemingly jolting out of his silence.
"What?"
Damon stood in front of her, stood so close if she so much as took a deep breath her chest would have brushed his. He cupped Bonnie by the back of the neck. He felt her skin pickle at his touch and something about that soothed him. Damon's steely blues drowned in her anomalous golds. Twenty-four hours later and they still shone like the sun. The dark-haired vampire wasn't sure if he liked it, but she was beautiful either way.
"Damon…" Bonnie tried to keep it together. But he was touching her.
"You're so warm."
"What are you doing?" she hated how shaky her voice was. Her breath hitched...then...
Damon's lips sealed over hers and Bonnie's incredulous eyes remained open. He sucked reverently on her top lip before switching to the bottom, laving it with care and attention. Slumberous, her lids shut the moment Damon's nimble tongue gently prodded the seam of her lips begging entry.
Entry granted.
Tongue tips touched and it wasn't long before Damon piston his in and out of Bonnie's mouth mimicking what the bottom half of him would love to do. Blood flowed to his dick which he pressed into Bonnie's hip.
Hands twisted into the lapels of his shirt and what started out as an exploratory jaunt was turning into something wild and uninhibited. Mewls and moans, Damon hungrily devoured each and every single one.
She couldn't help it. A lash of power escaped her like an orgasm.
The horns of their cars started blaring, windshield wipers whipped back and forth across dry glass, radios flared to life blasting an ear shattering mix of Nine Inch Nails and Bruno Mars. Those disturbances went ignored.
Heads bobbed and weaved looking for the right place to attack, taste, nibble. It was too much for Bonnie and then not enough. She tasted the bourbon on Damon's tongue and beneath that was him. That flavor she wanted more and more of, and was convinced if she didn't get it her head just might blow off.
Or that could be the lack of oxygen.
She held on to his bottom lip even as her lungs screamed. Hayden was an excellent kisser, Jeremy had been all right, but Damon…world class. He kissed like she was the conduit to his immortality. Kissed like her mouth contained buried treasure. Or perhaps she was the treasure and he was honoring it, paying it tribute. She hummed all over and drew even closer to the point her nose was buried in his cheek. And still it wasn't close enough.
Damon burned for her, was hot for her. She was making a place for herself in his veins, in his head, in his heart. Bonnie was everywhere and everything to him. He had a bad day she made it better. He missed home and her voice reminded him he had never left. He closed his eyes and saw her face, and if he touched himself he would probably feel her hands.
Vampire hormones were a hell of a drug.
Bonnie pulled away first, needing to breathe. Light curls of smoke filtered between her swollen lips. Damon's as well. Damn, she almost sent them up in flames. She stared at him with a mixture of timidity, awe, and raw hunger.
He wore the same mirrored expression until his usual cockiness reared its precious head. His equally swollen lips curled into a dirty smirk. "Now we talked."
A/N: Some talk *chuckles*. Originally I did have a Bamon conversation written but it just didn't feel right. It wasn't gelling right, the words weren't coming to me how I wanted, and there was too much inner musings. So it got the ax.
Special note: In the beginning of the chapter the parts italicized actually happened. Everything else in the beginning may have been a dream or a premonition. *waggles brows* Thank you guys for reading. If you feel inclined to review it would be deeply appreciated. I hope you do.