Please, since I forgot turning on the notification button, make sure you've read chapter 14.
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The music stops.
A voice inside his brain tells him to step back immediately, and go downstairs to wait for her, but his stupid body seems to misinterpret the command, for it takes a step forward, hovering at her ajar door as she twirls on the glossy stiletto to don the pinstriped blazer. Their eyes meet as he stares at her with what he knows is desire, and he lowers his eyes fast, trying to conceal his weakness with a self-confident question. "So, on a scale from one to ten, how handsome do I look?" He smooths imaginary wrinkles over his burgundy shirt, which gives him the excuse to not meet her eyes until he's sure he's gotten his ill-timed desire under some sort of control.
"And before you ask, yes, twelve is an acceptable answer," he adds, smiling at her.
"That's not even in the top ten of the questions I could ask right now," she replies, rolling her eyes, her plump, lucid lips drawing all the attention as she smirks. It has the effect of a kick in the stomach, the sudden realization, as she ignores him to turn around and put on a pair of diamond stud earrings, that all his talk of celibacy so that the first night as a married couple would be a special moment was bullshit.
At some point, part of him, he can admit now, had suspected that his sex drive had diminished, because the scent of Elena and her warm body in his arms as they kissed did not ignite his hunger or threaten his sanity. During their nights apart he had tried to get himself off at the thought of her, and hardly managed to squeeze relief out of it, like the inexhaustible source of passion that had kept him going for centuries had dried up when he turned human. He had found himself wondering if he'd made a big mistake becoming human again only to face the complete humiliation of some type of erectile dysfunction. Statistically speaking, as many as 30 million American men have it regularly.
So, on the bright side, considering the violent rush of blood towards his southern regions and the fact that he needs to subtly tuck himself, pulling on the belt and counting on the blazer to do the rest, he's just disproved his theory of a medical condition. Or rather, Bonnie did. And even if right now he's doing his damn best, he knows that sooner or later he'll play this scene in his mind again, but it will end with her clothes on the floor and the bouncing sparkle of her earrings as she moves up and down over him.
In a last, valiant attempt at saving this doomed night he tries to switch fantasies. He tells himself that after this last night of debauchery he'll be back in his bed and he'll think of Elena, naked and wearing only a pair of diamond stud earrings. The tingling in his muscles quiet down.
Well, fuck.
"The first one, in fact, would be: how the hell did I get myself into this?" But she smiles as she poses the question, and he does too. The moment feels warm, comfortable and exciting.
Bonnie walks towards him, ready to tell him to march down, but he raises one hand to straighten her collar with his fingers and there's a sudden tension in the air that makes her skin break out in goose bumps. It's a gentle, unassuming gesture, but all at once she's painfully aware of his taut muscles and his tender eyes and the close space between them, and she ignores all those things like a consumed professional. It's a long, long moment, in which she feels her skin grow hot and her sex become humid, and then, like a fire alarm going off, she hears the doorbell breaking the moment.
She walks around him rapidly, leaving him to follow her down the stairs. Leaving her feelings and her beating heart in that room upstairs where the soft lights have made her see things.
"Gentlemen," she calls out as she stands at the door between the men of her life, "And Damon," she adds with a mildly reproacheful look directed at her best friend, "I think we're ready to go."
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She catches the sight of Damon's fingers snapping approvingly to the rhythm of the song by Motley Crue that fills the room as they enter The Boobie Trap, and she looks about herself taking in the ambiance, so different at night when the red neon lights on the walls are turned on and she can see the female bodies flashing in different poses around them.
Alaric looks like a teacher taking the class on a day trip, keeping an eye on them as they walk through the club. Matt looks like he might slip and show his badge and ask for answers, though he swore that tonight he is just one of the boys and all he wants is to have fun. Jeremy, who has just gotten back to witness his sister's wedding, looks nervous and fidgety, almost bashful, reminding her that he's younger than all of them. Damon on his part, looks at the boy and then shoots a knowing look towards Bonnie with that taunting smirk that belongs only to him, implying that Jeremy is not embarrassed to be there, only scared someone will recognize him as an old client. He's never passed up an opportunity to joke about his limited experience and how sure he is that the young Gilbert must provide on his own to his pleasure.
"Do you think he's walking down memory lane?" Damon asks her to her ear, bending over her as she looks elsewhere.
"Shut up," she answers rapidly, trying not to be hyper-aware of his intense presence next to her, and smiling up at the waitress that's approaching them.
"Miss Bennett," she says, though she doesn't remember ever speaking to her. "Please, you guys can follow me this way," she says, walking comfortably in a pair of golden cowboy booties with a short heel. The shorts and t-shirt she wears are black and fitting but nothing sexy enough to distract the patrons of The Booty Trap, or to make them hitch for a handful. She's pretty sure it still happens to many of the girls working there, but the waitresses look very much like they can take care of themselves.
The girl, Gina, if Bonnie has read the tag correctly, lead them to one of the VIP areas, a secluded space with a two-seat sofa and three armchairs. By tacit accord, and to her consternation, everyone takes their seat leaving her to share the small sofa with Damon. She is the best man after all, and the most important person after the groom-to-be. Still, his proximity and that lingering feeling that she felt when they were alone in her room is making her feel slightly uneasy.
Bonnie takes a breath and readily accepts the drink the waitress assigned to them offers her. She takes a large sip while Damon only cradles the glass in his hand, exchanging words with the guys.
On the small stage in front of them two smiling girls start to twirl sensually around the poles, and as they continue taking off items of clothing she tries her best to remain concentrated on the athletic part of their performance. She herself is rather fit, but she would never be able to do what they do, looking so good at the same time. It's slightly depressing to realize only half an hour ago she felt so powerful and cool in her pantsuit and lip gloss while now, looking at those two stunning girls on stage smiling with their red lips and miniscule clothing, she feels almost inadequate.
It's stupid really, and when she tries to distract herself from those thoughts, the first thing her brain catches is Damon's thigh pressed against hers, solid and warm.
Bonnie can feel his muscles tense up against her. She can't help but wonder how much he's enjoying the show, and as two more girls appear on the stage dressed in white uniforms and giving everyone the military salute to the sound of Gloria by Umberto Tozzi, she steals a glance around, barely taking notice of Jeremy's hanging mouth before spying Damon's expression. He's actually taking a sip of his drink, appearing appreciative of the show though not the way the others are.
The waitress comes back with another round of drinks, and when she bends over to put the tray in front of Bonnie to let her take hers, her eyes fall on the V-neck and the girl's full breasts. She didn't even mean to look at that particular area of her anatomy but she couldn't help it, and in a reflex she turns to see if Damon did the same, but he's already turned towards Alaric to answer something he apparently asked him.
It's starting to feel a bit too hot in there and she takes off her jacket, trying not to give away her stressed state.
All things considered, things are going pretty well, but when each of the girls – now five of them – come down from the stage to flirt openly with the men sitting there, swaying their hips to the music covered only in a pair of white and gold panties and small anchor shaped nipple covers, Bonnie can resist for less than a minute before she needs to get away.
She smiles at Gina before the girls can reach her to ask if everything is going according to her requests, making a small gesture to signal to her that all is fine, while walking to the bar.
The bartender is busy with an acrobatic performance so her assistant comes over to ask Bonnie what she would like to drink. She tries to make small talk as she fills up her glass and even after, looking at her with an interest that makes Bonnie feel a bit better about herself. After all, she's used to being surrounded by beautiful girls that are usually naked, so even if Bonnie cannot reciprocate, once the girl is called to serve another customer, she's feeling appreciative of the attention received.
Someone leans against the bar, right next to her, and she smells their presence right before they do so. The strong scent of cheap aftershave, after being seated next to a man like Damon, freshly showered and smelling nice, it makes for a stark contrast.
The man looks at her with a smile, which comes off slimy, as does the smile of his friends. All three men are looking at her, beer in hand, like they are trying to find the opening in her clothes.
"Aren't you a little too covered for a place like this?" one of them asks.
"I'm not a dancer," she answers firmly, looking at her own glass and waiting for them to catch the drift.
"Shame," the guy leaning against the bar tells her. "With a nice, tight body like yours… I bet your thighs can do magic with the right pole." He smiles under the reddish beers and his friends laugh at the innuendo.
The man's breath stinks of beer and Bonnie feels in great need of a shower.
Bonnie is tempted to play a bad trick on him, but for how disgusting he is, he's still just a man, and she takes a deep breath to keep herself in check before turning her back on them to leave; but, before she can do so the man's hand reaches for her naked arm. His fingers barely grip before someone tears his hand off her.
"I didn't bring an anti-tetanus shot along, so don't touch her."
Bonnie sees Damon smiling derisively at the man, but even with his attempt at humor she can see him itching for a fight, so she feels incredibly relieved when around them she can see Alaric, and Jeremy and Matt. Especially Matt, who will surely pull out his badge and disperse the small crowd.
But Matt looks at the men threateningly and does nothing else. Go figure, exactly the right moment to put his overzealousness aside.
"Don't worry boy. I don't know about your dick," he begins, "but mine isn't rusty at all."
Bonnie grabs Damon's biceps, pulling him down so that she can make herself heard clearly. "Let's go," she urges him. "I don't want to have to explain to Elena why her husband has a black eye."
Damon looks down at her with a deflated expression. "You're right, we should go," he agrees, nodding.
Damon turns abruptly, taking a swing at the man's face, and before they are able to react he grabs blindly for her hand and pulls her away, running as they hear the commotion behind them.
They're forced to run in the direction opposite where they left Damon's blue Camaro, and Bonnie turns her head to see one of the men at their heels while the others are held back by Alaric and Matt, or maybe not drunk enough to be able avoid the most serious attempts at a punch.
"Faster!" Damon's urges her, his hand tightly holding hers. The devil himself couldn't tear her away from his hold right now.
They keep running even when the sound of heavy feet behind them is gone, and he stops a taxi almost putting himself in front of it as it drives past them.
When they sit behind the driver she's completely set on reprimanding him, but when she turns around she sees him breathing fast and smiling with brilliant eyes and the adrenaline still pumping strongly in both their veins. She doesn't know how it's possible, but they end up laughing all the way home.
Still, Bonnie finds the time to call the club and apologize to the owner. Anthony Carlson has already been informed, and he's gracious enough not to threaten to call the police on her. Actually, he is so decent he apologizes for his staff being too slow and not realizing they had to intervene. The men that have tried molesting her have been banned from entering the club again since it wasn't the first time they made trouble for his costumers, and they are welcome to come back anytime. Since they didn't enjoy the whole show as planned and she didn't have a chance to grab her blazer, he's taken the liberty to send it to a dry cleaner before mailing back to her.
"That's really nice of him," she says appreciatively, following Damon inside the house as he unlocks the front door.
"Yeah," he agrees. "Really nice. You are surrounded by nice men tonight."
Bonnie rolls her eyes as she opens the white cotton cuffs on her small wrists.
"If you're trying to put the failure of tonight on me you should take a good look at yourself first," she says, still walking behind him towards the kitchen.
"Actually, if they had taken a good look at me first, we wouldn't be in this mess," he jokes, opening the fridge to take a bottle of water and carefully toss it at her. "And who says this night has been a failure?" He walks towards her with his own bottle in one hand.
"Poor human me can still give it good," Damon says, his voice hoarse because of all the running and laughing, a smirk and a mischievous spark in his eyes. For a moment Bonnie doesn't remember how the whole breathing thing is supposed to work.
She feels the urgent need to lower her eyes, and they fall on his beautiful hands, knuckles scraped and bloody. She doesn't realize immediately that it's a bit too much blood to be his alone, and her instinct prevails.
"What did you do?" she asks.
"I thought we were over that already," he replies, unaware.
"Not that," she replies giving him a dirty look before ordering, "Sit while I get the first aid kit."
It takes her less than a minute to come back. He sits obediently on the counter top dangling his long legs like a kid, and as she concentrates on his bloody hands, he is about to make a dirty joke about her and a nurse costume, but she touches his hands so very gently and her plump lip gets trapped between her teeth as she cleans up his scraped hands, and she smells so good despite their run and the smoke in the club that he forgets what he was about to say.
Call me anything you want to, I woill be gone
Like a ribbon of smoke in the wind
And I'll climb out of your life the way I came in
And no one will ask forgiveness for sins
Bonnie is so pretty, so lovely, he feels a stab in the chest.
"Does it hurt that bad?" she asks, raising her eyes suddenly, finding her face infinitely close to his own.
"You have no idea," he says, breathing his answer against her lips, before using his free hand to cup the back of her head and pull her towards him in a kiss.
But if I told you my heart was on fire
Would you leave me to burn in my cage
Filling with smoke and desire
and choking on ashes of rages
Damon's tongue in her mouth feels more real and right than the blood in her veins. It feels like being awakened from a long, long, sleep. Like discovering a new state of consciousness. Deeper than her power, larger than the life she's lived up to now.
His hurt hand slips away from her own, and the now free arm hooks around her pulling her closely towards his chest. Bonnie is caged in his arms like a small, defenseless creature and she cannot find the strength to rebel against his kiss because the way he ravages her mouth is enchanting.
Bonnie finds her heartbeat reverberating in places it never did, and the wet sensation between her thigh is making her feel faint.
Her hands open on top of his clothed thighs to help herself up on weak knees, and something in her brain is telling her to breathe and think. It shouldn't feel like this. It shouldn't be like this.
"Damon…" she moans despite herself, and she is about to tell him, "we shouldn'—" before his hand grabs at her blindly once again, and his mouth catches hers like he's about to bite her soul out of her.
"Why not?" He manages to ask the question with his tongue still in her mouth, sounding in between dreamy and savage.
She's all wrapped in his arms, against his hard chest, feeling his beating heart and something else poking her lower abdomen. It's electrifying, scary and beautiful all at once.
But if I told you my heart was on fire
Would you leave me to burn in my cage
Filling with smoke and desire
and choking on ashes of rages
Why not? Why not? Why not?
Her brain is fighting hard against the foggy state she's in, and the strength it takes for it to find the answer to that horrid question takes away the last ounce of energy she has.
It takes all her effort to tear herself away from him. She stumbles back, trying to put distance between them, but like a possessed man Damon just slides off the countertop and walks towards her, reaching his hands out to grab her again and capture her like prey.
"Elena," she says, eyes wide as she presses herself into the wall at her back.
For a moment, looking in his eyes, she's not sure he's even recognized the name of his bride-to-be. It takes him almost a full minute before he's able to tell who Elena is.
"Elena," she repeats for good measure.
Damon is ashamed, more so realizing that that name did not extinguish the desire he has for Bonnie right now. For a lucid, awful moment he is aware that if only she wasn't the good person that she is, he could stoop so low as to repeatedly fuck her the night before his supposed wedding.
"You're about to marry Elena," she says, reminding it to both of them.
"Am I?" he asks, sounding doubtful, pained.
"What?"
"You heard me." He grimaces in front of her astonishment. Is it really such news to her? Did she never, not even for a second, think about how it would be if they could give themselves a chance? "I don't think I should marry her."
"What?" her strangled voice is disarming. She shakes her head 'no' and he feels the ground giving away under his feet.
"Bonnie, listen—"
"No!" She refuses, adamantly, raising both her hands to stop him from continuing, and before he can ignore her she turns away and leaves him. She can feel his steps behind her as she runs up the stairs. Her feet hurt from all the running she's done in her heels but she can't let that stop her, though she's tempted to. It would be beautiful to let Damon capture her and convince her to throw away everyone's else happiness in exchange for their own, but she can't do it.
"Bonnie, please" he begs, following her "Wait" but she's faster.
She won't believe in a sudden epiphany the night before the wedding. It's cold feet, and she would be an idiot falling for it. Putting her heart on the line for the man she's secretly always wanted.
Yes, yes, she's always wanted him, she admits to herself slamming her door behind her as he calls out her name, but that ends tonight.
"Bonnie!" He calls out again, knocking on her door. "Please, come out, let's talk."
Bonnie can't answer him in fear she'll crumble and say the wrong thing, in fear she'll crumble and promise him to love him forever. She could do that. And forever wouldn't even be a long time.
She sits on the bed, forehead pressed against her latched hands, almost praying to God to help her out.
"Bonnie, you can't tell me you never thought about it," he insists. And he's not so stupid not to know that he's asking exactly what he is most scared about.
"Things are so easy between us, so natural," he tells her. "You made me human before I could turn again."
When she doesn't reply, he tries changing tactics.
"I know you don't want to hurt Elena. I don't want to do that either, but what good would it do to marry her when all I want is—"
"Stop it!" Her voice is adamant. He can feel her presence behind the door and her coldness reach his heated skin.
"You drank too much," she says. "Alcohol and adrenaline went to your head. And you're nervous. Tomorrow you're going to be sorry about what you just said."
"I don't—"
"Damon," she interrupts him again, "Elena is my best friend." She says it like she's clarifying the hierarchy in her heart. he comes second to Elena. He comes last. "She's my sister. If you hurt her… I swear, I'll never forgive you. Never."
He should be used to rejection by now, but it cuts through him so easily he bends his head pressing the forehead against the wooden door to see the floor and see how much blood he's spilling on the clean parquet.
He closes his eyes, trying to regain some composure.
Now lets sabotage the memories and burn all our things
through good money after the bad
I can understand the reasons that you don't believe me
But you were the best thing I had
"Right," he says, standing again and taking one step back from the door. "You're right." He feels the lie burn his tongue. "I didn't mean to…" He can't really say he didn't mean to kiss her because he still wants to, even now, even as he stands there humiliated and rejected. A part of his brain is still conjuring ways to bypass her refusal and hold her again.
The doors are too study to try breaking them down with his shoulder, and she would kill him, and he could lose her. That's the thought that holds him down. He could lose her, that easily.
"I was wrong, okay? I shouldn't have put you in this position. It's all my fault," he admits readily. He raises both his hands to press down on his temples, trying not to sink into the memory of Bonnie responding to his feverish kiss. This is really not the moment.
"I will do what I have to, okay?" he asks, needing to hear her voice, but she does not answer.
This is the most powerless he's ever felt since the day a servant came to tell him his mother had passed and he realized he was going to be alone with his abusive father and a little brother he wasn't going to able to protect.
Damon feels the anger simmering while she's abandoning him at the mercy of his love.
But he just asks, "Okay?"
But if I told you my heart was on fire
Would you leave me to burn in my cage
Filling with smoke and desire
and choking on ashes of rages
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Damon can't pinpoint the exact emotion that keeps him awake the whole night. He was high from the kiss, wounded by her reaction, and disappointed in himself.
All that talking about treating his fiancée better, about making up for his shortcomings, and he had gone and kissed his best friend like his life depended on it.
He had wanted so much to be the man that could make Elena happy. He had taken the cure so that he could be all that she deserved. He had tried to fit into the mold shaped by his brother, and become the person that could share her life, but the Salvatore for the job had given up his life to let them have theirs. And now, as he watches everyone get the last preparations like industrious ants he deeply feels the irony of it all.
He watches from the window as everyone is taking their places on the chairs lined in his garden, which has been opulently decorated for the grand occasion.
Maybe, if he had died instead of Stefan, Elena would have had a better shot at happiness and Bonnie would more inclined to admit he wasn't such a bad choice as a romantic partner.
But he's ruined his chances long ago, when his brother died, or maybe when he swore to Elena he would always put her first, or maybe the first time he saw Katherine. He can't tell. He only knows there's one direction to go right now, and it's forward.
He leaves his room, stops in front of Bonnie's door. She's left him alone all morning, sending Alaric in her stead with the excuse that he's better than she is at making a tie knot.
Bonnie is not in the room and he lets himself in, making the necklace fall into the suede bag they brought together in Amsterdam. The gift comes attached to too many things she's not ready to hear and he won't be able to say anymore after today, so it's easier like this.
This is his goodbye, the only one he's got.
"Damon!" Caroline calls his name again and he begins descending the stairs. "Finally! Where were you?" she asks holding a folder and probably a whip somewhere under the dress. "What did you do? You look like death warmed over."
"I love you too, sis," he says saccharinely.
"Are you about to vomit?" she asks, studying his expression.
"As a result of your pep talk?" He pulls on the suffocating collar around his neck. "It's entirely possible."
"Stop," she says, nervously turning around to peek at the large glass doors that open to the garden. "Elena is almost here and you'll ruin your tie knot, so stop and go outside." She moves her hands a in a shooing motion and tries to push him in the right direction.
"And where are you going?" Caroline asks, with a slight sense of panic. The bride has almost arrived, the coach is about to stop in front of the gate any minute now, and undisciplined people just move from their spots for whatever reason—"oh I'm about to faint", "oh I really need to pee", "there's a robbery with hostages at the bank and I'm needed for the negotiations". Really, Matt's excuse was the lamest of all. The point of a robbery with hostages is that the bad guy isn't going anywhere any time soon.
"I need to check something," she answers vaguely.
"Okay, but do it fast," Caroline insists.
The golden fabric makes waves around Bonnie's legs as she moves while she passes through the doors, making her look like she's a Venus walking over the golden waves of a setting sun, and the thin material make her skin look like her body is painted in delicate strokes of gold. Damon stops walking to watch her but she keeps going like she's too busy to notice him.
Damon knows she'll avoid him for as long as possible, offended by the vile act of him loving her.
"Com' on." Caroline looks at her phone where a message pops up to tell her Elena is two minutes away. "She's almost here," she tells him excitedly.
But the news, instead of rushing his steps, stops him altogether.
"What are you doing, Damon?" she almost whines. Why can't everyone do as she tells them to? What's so hard about following orders to the letter?
"I need to see her," he says.
"Yes, I know. Go outside and wait for her at the altar," she agrees encouragingly.
"No, I mean before the wedding," Damon clarifies.
"You're kidding?!" Caroline is flabbergasted. "If you think you're going to have a quickie with your future bride right next to your guests you're sorely wrong, mister."
"Caroline." Her name is said so firmly she's scared he's about to tell her he's got three months left to live. The gravity of the moment makes her stomach fall. "I really need to see her now. Before we get married," he repeats calmly.
"I'll call her," she nods. "I'll tell her there's been a change of plans. You can walk down the aisle together after you've seen each other."
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Note: I hope you've enjoyed the chapter. The songs used/mentioned in this chapter are "Girls, Girls, Girls" by Motley Crue, "Gloria" by Umberto Tozzi, and "Burn in my cage" by Jake Newton. I'll be waiting for your reviews, they are a great support when it comes to facing the scary white screen hoping to put down my silly fantasies.
I you want/can buy me a coffee I will be grateful, you can find the link to my ko-fi page in my ffnet profile and over at my tumblr at paintedwithwords.