Title: Causalities Of Accidental Dating

Author: skysamuelle
Author's Note: Betaed by Emmy/martinigirl15, inspired by impishdragon
Rating: MATURE

Timeline: Post 'Fool Me Once'

Summary: A series of accidental dates between Bonnie Bennett and Damon Salvatore stir feelings of a deeper nature than anyone would have guessed. Currently on – Bonnie is upset and Damon offers his particular brand of comfort, displaying an unusually selfless streak along the way.

This update is for all my very patient reviewers… you deserved this and made writing it so much more enjoyable !

PART 8

XIII

Being a witch and fighting alongside your friends to keep an ancient vampire master from invading your hometown doesn't mean you'll be spared from those wonderful trials of adolescent angst.

Bonnie learns this simple truth after two hours of arguing back and forth with her dad about her future, and what she will do with it now that her grades are dropping. She is not exactly happy about her latest academic results, but it's not like she can actually explain to her dad all the reasons why schoolwork, since Grams died, has been at the bottom of her priority list.

She ends up promising and apologizing and reassuring that failing classes is not her highest aspiration either, and she has almost convinced her father of her good intentions… before the 'college issue' comes up.

The matter is, every ambition Bonnie used to cultivate before finding out she was a witch feels extraneous and farfetched today. She is so deeply immersed in occultism these days that she can't imagine her future the way she did before. The one thing that feels true and passion-worthy right here and now is her magic: it keeps her standing while everything else in her world spins and changes, it keeps her true to herself in her darkest hours.

Obviously, her father can't ever know anything about this and it only adds to the growing rift between them. He says he doesn't know her anymore and he certainly doesn't understand why she would 'throw her intelligence away' to follow in her grandmother's footsteps.

Bonnie leaves after a window accidentally cracks to pieces, without slamming the door behind her, without any dramatic last words, without truly knowing where she will go next.

She mostly drives around pointlessly until her temper has cooled and disappointment has overtaken the anger.

This is when she realizes the one person with whom she wants to talk about her horrible evening is Stefan. If there's someone who would understand, really understand the sense of isolation and distance she has been fending off for so long, it's him. He knows firsthand what it means, to feel and be different from everyone else.

She inwardly cringes when it's Damon, not his younger brother, opening the door to her. Things with Damon are always complicated and ambiguous and the last thing she needs at the moment is more uncertainty.

Something indefinable flashes through his pale eyes as he looks up and down her, like he's imprinting the very image of her on his threshold into his mind. "Little Witch, it's always a pleasure. "

The vampire smirks and for some reason, it bothers her that he's perpetually attaching those arbitrary etiquettes of his onto everyone he meets. It's, she believes, just another way to diminish other people in his mind and let them know.

"I have a name, you know. It wouldn't burn you if you used it, unlike certain incantations I've learnt."

Damon' gaze brightens like she just praised him.

"You keep threatening me with fire and flames at each chance you get. I'm starting to think it's either a metaphor for something else entirely, or one of your fetishes. I hope for the latter, it would make for some very interesting foreplay."

She rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"You are disgusting, and I'm looking for your brother. "

"Well, you are disgustingly cranky and my brother is checking the perimeter with Alaric."

"Oh."

She doesn't really know what to say after that, because going back home doesn't feel like a particularly good idea yet and there's no saying when Alaric and Stefan will be done, if they are checking for vampire nests on Mystic Falls' outskirts.

"Do you mind if I go through your family library by myself then?"

Bonnie asks at last, relieved she has at least one excuse to not look like a complete fool.

Her interlocutor stands aside and welcomes her in with a mock bow."Not at all."

"Were you looking for something in particular?" He asks, his hand on the small of her back while he guides her inside and toward a destination she already knows quite well. It sounds like a casual, mildly curious inquiry but it's probably all about Damon fishing for the real reason she wanted to see Stefan. Damon has the annoying penchant to see too much, at the worst possible moment.

"No, I'm just bored and in the mood for a good read." She half-lies as he opens the library's door to her.

"You look more melancholy than bored," the vampire comments a bit later with apparent idleness, his back turned to her while he occupies himself with a whiskey-filled decanter and two glasses. She stops examining the titles of every tome on the shelf in front of her to focus her attention on him, frowning and then looking back to the books.

The dark-haired witch refuses to acknowledge him verbally until he hands a glass to her, his expression perfectly amiable like he is any sociable host. "It does wonders for lifting the spirit, especially if you down it at once."

"I think I'll stick with a good book."

"Then you won't find it among my father's collection. Unless being bored to tears is your brand of release."

Despite herself and her bad disposition toward everyone and everything, she chuckles at both his wisecrack and the deliberately pompous tone he uses to deliver it. "You should find yourself another drinking buddy. I'm not exactly the ideal candidate."

"Oh, don't put yourself down like that. I promise you've done perfectly well so far."

Now she thinks about it, it's impressive just how many drinks they have shared on his instigation."Are you trying to corrupt me, Homicidal Vampire?"

He smiles fondly at the nickname and it makes him look younger, affable.

"Don't disappoint me, little Glinda. Let's have a toast."

She doesn't really understand or care, which is why she reacts by rolling her eyes and taking the glass out of his hands. "What are we toasting to?"

Damon shrugs like it doesn't matter. "You decide."

"Hm, what about my dropping grades and sketchy college prospects?"

"That's why you are all gloomy and snappish?"- he shakes his head in blatant disappointment- "Shame on you, sweetheart. Don't you know that education is for those poor fools who can't magic anything they want into their lap?"

Smirking a little as she refills her glass under his approving gaze, Bonnie can't resist provoking him a bit: "Or compelling anyone to give them anything?"

"You get my drift," he nods eagerly, sinking into his armchair, which happens to be right beside her seat.

Bonnie sips her whiskey, enjoying the euphoric heat already rushing to her head and untwisting all complications into their far simpler basics. "Go explain that to my dad. "

"I take it he doesn't know what you are?"

"Dad is a very no-nonsense, practically-oriented type of person. If I told him and showed him that I practice witchcraft, he would be hell-bent on forcing me to quit. He already thought Grams acted batty. Can you imagine if he knew she died in the backlash of a spell? I would never know another day of peace."

She shudders at the idea alone.

Damon snorts, apparently annoyed."It's not the spell that killed your grandma. It's old age and strain."

"Yeah, magical strain"-Bonnie stresses, pissed that her happy-buzz bubble is already cracking under the pressure of ugly memories- "but let's not open that can of worms, okay? "

"Whatever."

Damon gulps down the remaining liquid in an oddly inelegant gesture, his features fighting not to show some kind of conflict. Watching him makes the witch feels unusually benevolent. And fuzzy.

Perhaps that is the whiskey's fault. She is definitely verging on tipsy now, a pleasant lightness settling around her like a warm blanket, spurring her to be chatty. "It's a paradox. I am a seer, but when it comes to my future, all I see is a wide, nebulous space. "

He pats her shoulder companionably, shaking off her concerns with barely a sliver of condescension. "You are a growing girl. It's normal."

"Is it?" – she continues, swirling her third drink lazily – "I used to be invested in so many interests that don't mean anything anymore to me. But when I do magic I feel so free, whole…. I never felt like that about anything before. "

"Ordinary human lives are boring. Power never is. How can you compare them?"

His voice has grown lower, insinuating, way too close to her ear. She finds the presence of mind to be surprised that his fingers are stroking her hair slowly. It feels good, and she leans into his touch instinctively, a satisfied smile forming on her lips.

"You are such a douchebag." –she half-moans, resigned- "You got me wasted on purpose, didn't you? Are you planning to take advantage of me?"

Fingertips trace lazy patterns over her collarbone and follow the outline of her shoulder.

"You know what you're doing"- he replies, defensive and slightly offended, then he brushes her locks aside to expose to his lips the curve of her neck – "and I don't hear you saying no."

"I should," Bonnie sighs, regretful. His palms keep sliding up and down her arms, summoning sensations she has warned herself against, and his lips are exploring every inch of skin he can reach, reminding her of that night she had allowed him to feed on her.

But it feels even better, without the anxiety or the worry to hinder her enjoyment.

His mouth sucking on her throat, his tongue tasting the sensitive spot behind her earlobe, his breath on her flesh, her his fingers twisting in her hair, his arm around her…it's intoxicating.

It's also something they have shared before and nowhere close to enough, anymore. His nose nuzzles the hollow between her neck and her shoulder, breathing her in deeply.

"Your scent is addictive"- the vampire murmurs, almost dreamily, before hiding his visage in her soft curls- "I might do this all the day long. "

Bonnie giggles, rather uncertain whether she is drunker on the alcohol or the vampire harassing her."I think you're less disturbing when you're threatening my life."

"Stop being so sassy. It's not attractive." He admonishes, voice dark with warning, his nails digging into her collarbone painfully.

You are only a grumpy little boy – she wants to snap, but he's fisting her hair and pulling her up forcefully and all that crawls out of her mouth is a strangled gasp.

He turns her around roughly so they are standing face to face and she can see his unnaturally ink-black eyes, the bluish network of engorged veins around them, his lips closed in a tight line but trembling like they are about to break into an animalistic snarl. It should scare her, but it doesn't.

Bonnie looks on, mesmerized, as his visage shifts repeatedly from vampire to human, again and again until humanity wins over the feral instincts and he's, once more, the blue-eyed Lucifer that teases her and confuses her senses.

He touches her gentler now, drawing her close firmly but with a surprising prudence, combing her mussed strands away from her face with a soothing carefulness. His gaze is mournful, brimming with all the words he can't bring himself to say, the agony of wanting something so very badly and not knowing how to obtain it.

It awakens a bittersweet restlessness inside her, akin to a desire to wrap her arms around him and allow him to have anything he needs. Her blood, her body, her heart. Anything.

But it's such a risky caprice to indulge in, with him. She already trusts a lot more than she should.

"We have many sound reasons not to do this to ourselves," the witch whispers shakily.

"Too many of those reasons are flesh and bone people. It doesn't need to be that complicated."

He mocks, impatient and frustrated. Ironically, the very net that has brought them together would have -in her eyes, at least- always kept them apart. Matt, Elena, Stefan, Caroline…he has broken each one of them in different ways and it drives him to the wall, to know they all have a better claim on her than he has.

Damon cups her face in his hands, caressing her warm cheekbones with his thumbs and striving to memorize how her eyelids just fluttered closed to his touch.

"It doesn't?" she murmurs, unable to think properly while a thumb is tracing the outline of her bottom lip. She is so tired of everything being complicated. She wishes she could give in.

He mind-rapes people on a daily basis. - her conscience reminds her- He took Vicky away from Matt. He enjoys inflicting pain on Stefan. He is the king of psychological warfare and he's not even ashamed of how he has treated Caroline. Will you just dismiss it? Because of a few occasions when you saw him not being a monster?

"We can just take what we want, no questions asked, no consequence. "

Bonnie feels her throat tighten at the rare intensity reflected on his face, the hypnotic seriousness of his voice. Eyes the startling, vibrant color of the Pacific are staring down at her, and for a moment she's shocked at the sharp contrast with a memory not so deeply buried. She has looked into those eyes when they were cold like the frozen Atlantic, and she has already felt his hands on her face, touching her softly only to better convey a threat. He looked very, very cruel then, merciless even.

He doesn't look cruel right now. He only looks passionate, beautiful, a man.

It can't be enough. Not to respect him, not to care about him. How can you give part of yourself up to someone you don't respect? - the witch wants to hang onto that conviction and twist free of him, but then he lifts her chin so their lips can meet and she can't remember anymore.

It's nothing like the last time Damon had kissed her. There's no aggression, no fury, no coercion: his mouth just caresses hers teasingly, and his arms don't force her to stay put but surround her with a strange care, like she is something easily broken and all the more precious for it. Damon is kissing her like it's both a promise and an offering.

Trembling, she leans into the kiss and then hesitatingly responds to it, her eyes closing on their own accord.

He tastes of Death and of Night and of Wilderness, whiskey and manliness.

Something golden unfurls inside her as she relaxes into it, gratified by the feeling of his hands roaming up and down her back. Bonnie puts hers on his hips, pulling him closer before mirroring his caresses.

Being touched by him feels good, but touching him in return feels downright natural and Bonnie finds herself praying to Hekate, the Witches' Goddess, - Please, please let this not be love.

She tucks her hand under his shirt regardless, exploring his lower back. His skin feels pleasantly cool and smooth and she finds she can't stop reaching for more.

Damon groans into her, pulling her backward while they deepen the kiss, until her back hits the table and he can hoist her up, his palms greedily cupping her ass before she is sitting on hard wood. All tenderness has given away to hunger, every possibility of resistance is forgotten.

Bonnie clings to him, wrapping her legs around his waist while the vampire dips his head lower and nibbles on her shoulder, his fingers running all over her bare stomach. Leaning back and breathing out harshly, she has no idea of when her shirt got completely unbuttoned and she doesn't care, either.

The sensation of his tongue sliding down, from her collarbone to the cleft between her breasts, empties her of every coherent thought and fills her with such a blazing, throbbing need that she can barely contain it.

She opens her eyes to the ceiling only to see more than a few books floating high over her head.

"Oh," the witch gasps, shaken out of her lust-filled trance, and the guilty objects all fall down suddenly, colliding with the floor in a loud crash that has Damon flinching, startled.

The two look at the mess around them in a certain wonder, then focus on each other with what might nearly become awkwardness.

"You are quite the powerful little thing." He drawls appreciatively, his nails skimming over her legs.

Licking her dry lips, she chooses to stay quiet and just looks at him from behind lowered eyelids. To be honest, her recent display makes her feel like a freak. His touch creeps higher, lingering in snail-paced circles over her inner thigh and her hips rise just a bit in response, her gaze a liquid brown-green magnet that he finds too enthralling to resist.

Damon savors intently the very sight of her: his little witch looks as wild and raw as that night he had spied on her in the woods, but also tense and easily frightened. His lips graze her temple, her cheek, her forehead before finding their way back to hers again.

"I want to do something for you." He all but purrs against her mouth after a deep, gut-stirring kiss. Her gaze is unfocused and her breath is broken in short endearing puffs of air as he kneels down between her parted legs. Her heartbeat speeds up fiercely as she looks down at him, jitters and anticipation chasing each other across her expression.

Just like a scared, helpless little bird – he thinks, remembering when he and Stefan were children. They used to find young sparrows or robins fallen out of their nests, unable to escape when he and his brother would capture them and cup them in their hands. Damon remembers how fragile and small those creatures felt in his hold, how fast their tiny heart would beat, so wild that he could feel the erratic pulsation against his skin and fear that the bird would die of sheer terror.

"My Little Bird, " the vampire utters against her stomach, brushing his lips on the soft expanse of brown, supple skin. Bonnie quivers as his tongue trails lingering circles around her bellybutton, fractures his name in stuttering syllables when it delves inside.

He feels the beast roaring inside him, experiences a violent desire to cut to the chase and bury himself inside her in every way possible. Resisting is nearly impossible, with those breathy, soft, wanton sounds she is making and the way her inviting scent surrounds him, taunting him with what he cannot have. Yet.

Because even with lust raging through his veins at full volume, Damon is perfectly aware that he needs to play his cards right. Taking everything he needs from Bonnie now would mean being at a grave disadvantage once the witch is fully sober and in defense mode.

He may not be all together certain of what he wants from her, but it sure as hell isn't one glorious bout of sex, ruined by endless recriminations of how he has taken advantage of her.

For some undefined reason, it feels extremely important to him not spook Bonnie by rushing too much. He wants - he needs- to reel her in bit by bit and savor every minor victory along the way.

He pushes her knees wider apart to get more room, and when he dips his head down towards her wet folds, she flinches, her small body tightening at once in nervous tension.

Damon caresses her thighs to calm her, but can't silence the self-satisfied humming that vibrates across his throat at the evidence of her panic. He is still a predator, and there is, deep underneath the surface of him, a surprising jolt of guilt for partly enjoying her distress.

"You don't need to be scared" - he tries to amend, summoning his most reassuring tone- I'll make sure you won't regret it."

His choice of words vaguely disturbs him –It is not as strictly sexual as it sounded in his head- but it works. Bonnie finally relaxes under his touch, allowing him to pull her underwear down, bunched around one ankle, and he keeps the 'innocent' caressing up for another excruciatingly long awhile, merely for her benefit. Although it takes considerable restraint: he can smell her arousal and knowing she is so warm and ready for him makes his blood boil.

It truly amazes him that this woman can get him so hot and yet so fucking patient, when she is so inexperienced and he is by nature so absolutely, greedily selfish.

Eventually he lowers his head to taste her, parting her lips with his tongue softly, and the most enticing sound falls from her mouth, in between a cry and a whimper, while he lingers there, simply basking in the flavour of her essence.

It gives him a heady, exhilarating feeling unlike anything else he has ever experienced during sex. Who knew you could be that high on bringing pleasure to someone else whilst withholding your own?

Fascinated with this utterly new concept, he decides to return to old school basics, traces the alphabet with the tip of his tongue on her nub, overjoyed when she wriggles against him and breathes shakily.

He barely reaches the 'H' and his usually self-contained little witch is clutching at his hair and panting like there's no tomorrow. 'K' gets out of her a drawn-out, lust-embedded moan that has his eyes blacken and his fangs clatter together.

Damon freezes, every muscle painfully tense from the ferocious desire to attack, but then her small hands pull him tighter to her sex, her hips buckling in an instinctive, imprudent movement. Miraculously, that's all he needs to push his cravings aside and be with her again.

Yet he draws back, allows his canines to slide along her thigh as he abruptly pushes two fingers inside her wet heat, stretching and retreating a little just to drive deeper, in rhythmic motions.

Bonnie abruptly lets go of his head, preferring to grip the table's edge to maintain a semblance of balance.

She may have had sex before, but it was just a one-time deal, quite awkward and uncomfortable and ...nothing like this.

Books keep falling from shelves and she is pretty sure a few things around her are levitating, but it's really, really hard to concentrate on that.

Losing control feels good, incredibly good with Damon's fingers stroking her inside, just the way she craves, just the way to make her toes curl in pleasure. It feels like every stroke is winding a coil inside her, tighter and tighter until she is drowning into a fiery, alien heat.

She is intensely aware of his mouth sucking on her thigh and it doesn't surprise her when his teeth sink into her flesh, right as his fingers curl and hit that perfect spot. "Yes," Bonnie groans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, her walls clamping and fluttering around him as she begins to shake uncontrollably.

A startling tide of passion rises inside her, sweeping her violently up and under, dragging her down, toward the void. Suddenly, she is over the invisible edge, her hips are bucking and a loud, raw sound she has never made in her life is scratching its way out of her throat as she tightens like a vice around his hand.

He drinks every beautiful sensation of hers straight from her blood, moaning into her caramel skin when her orgasm races across his system and pulls him asunder right along with her.

Damon tastes every bit of her pleasure, feels it filling his head completely until her release has become his release and he is drowning into the very presence of her.

When she has calmed down and he senses the tang of her satisfaction blending in with some pleasant soreness, he is reluctant to part himself from her. He slides his fingers out her body before withdrawing his fangs, pops his fingers into his mouth to enjoy the mixed flavor of her wetness and her blood.

Bonnie blinks down at him in a sort of awed daze, considering it's a surprisingly erotic gesture. Bonelessly relaxed and pretty much speechless, that's what Damon Salvatore has reduced her to.

"Wow."

"Wow is right," he repeats, licking his lips and sparing a cursory glance to the chaos surrounding them Moments like this, he's almost sorry he has killed Zach. Almost. "But I hope you know a spell to fix this disaster, because I'm no desperate housewife."