Title: An Understanding of Sorts
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Pairing: Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore
Rating: M for sexual situations
Word Count: 4,583
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Bonnie and Damon have an understanding...of sorts. Even if it doesn’t make much sense, it works for them.
Author’s Note: This piece has not been betaed so all mistake are my own. I started this oneshot during season one right after Grams died. Therefore, you must understand that we’re not on the same timeline. This Bonnie is not the same Bonnie that we know today. Also, this was not written in my normal writing style so hopefully it’s not too bad.
We have an understanding—he and I.
I mean, I could try to explain the circumstances regarding our little arrangement, but what would really be the point? Words were not needed when it came to us. And in a sense, would be wasted in an effort to explain what we are in relation to each other.
A sorry pair, I solemnly admit, but a pair nonetheless.
He does not care about the part that he’s played in my misery these past few weeks. He lives his life in the present and does not concern himself with wrongs of the past. Therefore, I am uncertain as to how we got here.
Yet, there is no denying where we are.
Limbs tangled, breaths labored—even as my body grows lax while he drinks from me, I marvel at the fact that this is the most alive I’ve felt in quite a while. I find the sensation to be euphoric and otherworldly. But mostly importantly, I find it ironic that it is Damon Salvatore who is igniting such a fire in me after inadvertently being the cause of my unbearable anguish.
Awaking from a restless sleep, it’s hard to make him out at first. But when I do, I react accordingly. Recoiling from his touch as he hovers over me, I reach for the switch of the lamp by my bed only to watch him vanish from my sight. For peace of mind, I choose not to dwell on the fact that I’ve never once invited him into my house.
Within the next few days, I learn that he does this often enough.
Whether it is to scare me or to annoy me, I wasn’t quite sure. But with Damon, I settled on the former. It’s obvious though—now that I think back on it—that Damon saw a change in me that all the others seemed so blind to. He saw the darkness that had crept inside and taken hold so relentlessly. And for the most part, I think he loved the sight; this broken down version of my former self.
As the saying goes: “Misery loves company.” His twisted soul and my broken spirit…
In his mind, we complimented each other.
So we came to an understanding… of sorts.
Hating him was a waste of time, though I did. The need to lash out at him twisted and coiled up my insides like a spring trap, but I relented. Though there was no visible scar, the feel of Damon’s teeth savagely ripping at my neck was not a memory that I would soon forget. It served as a vivid reminder of what he did to those that crossed him. Therefore, he became my unwelcomed house guest; a silent confidant in my misery.
Many nights during his visits, I found myself awakened by either a rustling hand on my shoulder, or the gentle cupping of my tear-stained cheeks. Either/or depended solely on Damon’s mood that particular night, yet the events that followed were always the same. Green eyes always met blue, but there were no words uttered between us. Nothing ever seemed appropriate and most nights, I didn’t have it in me to place fault or blame on anyone, but myself.
Just so we’re clear, to get out of bed each day thus far, I’d convinced myself that others were responsible for my Grams’ death—that it was solely his actions and that of his younger brother that resulted in her leaving me so suddenly. It was only when I was left alone and allowed my own guilt to weigh down on me, did I clearly hear my pleas for her to do the spell that would consequently drain her of life. The fault rested with me and I carried it around like a two ton weight on my back.
It was only once, after Damon roused me out of one of my more gut wrenching nightmares, did I actually wait for him to speak. To offer me words of comfort or cruelty—whichever—I was prepared to take it. But when he offered neither, simply slipping the covers back on top of me, I rolled over onto my side, back turned to him, and reached for the dreams I’d left behind.
The next time I see him, it’s night once again, and I’ve just emerged from the bathroom after taking a shower. Towel drying my hair, I watch as he climbs through my open window and sheds his signature leather jacket. With a thick book in hand, he casually lounges in the chair by my bed, feet propped up on the edge. I sneer; my lips parting to voice my disapproval when he silences me before a single syllable can even pass them.
“Don’t ruin this, little witch.” He speaks absently; already scanning the contents of the leather bound pages.
It’s his only warning and without real reason as to why, I comply with his command. His face is the last thing I see when my eyelids grow heavy and sleep overtakes me. I do not dream of death that night and he does not leave me until I wake for school the following morning.
This is our pattern—our endless dance.
He never tells me why he comes and I never turn him away.
We’ve developed a routine… of sorts.
During the day, we keep up pretenses.
To the outside world, nothing has changed between us and we like it just fine that way.
In fact, Damon has become such a permanent fixture in my house at night that I start to wonder what he tells Stefan whenever he does decide to venture home, undoubtedly smelling of this place—smelling of me. However, if his younger brother does suspect that something is going on, he never confronts me about it and I’m grateful for I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
When we’re together—though we’re not together—it’s quite…pleasant.
I dare to say that I’ve even grown comfortable with Damon at my side. So much so that when he moves from his usual place in the chair onto my bed (him on top of the covers, me underneath), it doesn’t faze me.
There’s nothing sexual about it even though this is Damon we’re talking about it. It hasn’t come to that just yet, but as I reach for him in the middle of the night and he holds me without hesitation, I’m aware of the calmness that washes over me so fiercely, stirring a faint longing in the pit of my stomach. A longing reserved only for him.
I soon come to realize that if I were to tell him that I no longer wanted nor needed him with me, my own body would betray my words. Solace is what I seek in his arms and often what I found. As crazy as it sounds, I felt peace with him. And such a feeling after weeks of pain was not something that I felt inclined to give up any time soon. Therefore, when he does not show up one night after countless nights with me, a sense of trepidation washes over me in waves.
I tell myself that I shouldn’t be worried; that he never said our arrangement would last forever so it was likely to end as abruptly as it had started. I argue that it’s better this way, to just cut our losses now. Yet, knowing all of this did not outweigh the incessant yearning I have for him to be with me.
Damon had become my port in the storm.
I needed him to keep the demons at bay.
Since his absence, I’ve been unable to sleep. And when I do have the fortune of resting my eyes, past nightmares catch up with me. As pathetic as it may be, nights seem to bleed into one another without him.
One night becomes two.
Two nights becomes five.
And it all becomes endless torture.
A week and a half passes without contact, without his presence, and I’m no longer worried, but pissed. After a second night alone, I indirectly broached the subject of Damon to Stefan while in the hall between classes. Nothing to raise any red flags or suspicion, I simply asked the younger vampire how things were going with him. Obviously, if something had happened to Damon, he would say something.
“Everything’s fine,” he nods with a polite smile.
We continue to make small talk as we walk to Alaric’s history class. It is then that Stefan absently complains about his brother’s recent orgy party with a couple of Tri-Delta sorority girls.
I give the appropriate look of disapproval and disgust as I take my designated seat, two rows over. From this news, two things become abundantly clear; one of them I already knew.
Damon is shameless, blood-sucking man-whore, but he is, in fact, alive…Or as alive as a vampire can be anyway.
So that’s the end of it.
The decision has been made and even if I don’t like it, I have no choice but to accept it. Damon was back to being Damon. The world should have made sense again, but I felt more off balance than ever.
For the next two weeks, I reasoned that I’d survived without Damon before; I could just as easily do it again. Go back to before I needed him—before I craved his presence like some sort of drug. It wasn’t easy, but I think I was beginning to find some sort of solid ground when he appears behind me one night while standing in my kitchen.
I shriek in surprise, an undoubted look of horror playing on my features before my fear subsides at seeing his familiar face. Whatever happiness I have at seeing him is then quickly swallowed by my anger and resentment at being abandoned by him. I’m furious at the fact that he has the balls to waltz in here after being gone for so long.
I yell at him.
I curse and I shove as he tries to pull me closer. I briefly think of using what he refers to as my “witchy-juju” but I decide against it. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t even want to look at him, although, it’s all I’ve wanted since he’s been gone.
It is only when Damon drops to his knees and buries his face against my belly, do I know that something is wrong. He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tightly. At that moment, my anger dissipates and I’m worried once more.
I pulled away slightly to get a look at his face. Cupping his chin, I take in his haggard appearance—tousled hair and sunken eyes—and I don’t know what to do. I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but my intended words are engulfed by a startled yelp as he grips my hips, and props me down on top of the kitchen island. I look at him wide eyed and confused.
What has gotten into him?! I ask myself because it must be said that words don’t work well with Damon. Not when he’s like this. He says so much with looks alone that after spending so much time with him, I’ve gotten good at deciphering them. But as I watch him, watching me, I see a certain look in his eyes that makes me self conscious.
A part of me wishes that I was as ignorant to him as I used to be.
He leans forward into my personal space; his hands resting on either side of my exposed thighs as he looks every bit the part of a broken man. With little thought, I reach up to caress the side of his face, eager to wipe away some of the sadness that has masked his beautiful features. He embraces my touch, and when I feel a gossamer kiss on the curve of my thumb, I realize that Damon is asking me for comfort of a different kind.
This is when a decision has to be made. An idea that I’d fleetingly toyed with before had become a possible reality. I weighed my options.
Damon had hurt me.
I couldn’t deny it and I don’t think that he would either, but it’s not really about what’s happened between us in the past. It’s about what we are—were—to each other now. And right now, I know that he needs me.
And as much as I would like to deny it…I need him too.
Gingerly, I spread my legs and he is quick to close what little space there is between us.
At eye level, neither of us makes a move.
Under normal circumstances, I would never consider Damon a proper gentleman (though he was in fact brought up as one in his human life), but he seems keen on giving me the opportunity to back out of this if it’s what I want to do.
Gazing at each other, he waits for me to pull away or show some indication that I’ve changed my mind, but my stare does not falter under his intense baby blues. I guess a part of me knew that we would end up here eventually. Maybe I needed to be as close to him as he needed to be to me in this moment. I mean, if not for the sake of love, then for the sheer pleasure of connecting intimately with another person.
Regarding my silence as permission to continue, I felt both his hands run leisurely up the length of my thighs before gripping my hips firmly and pulling me forward so that his erection pressed against my warm sex. I let out a shaky breath, a damn-near shudder, for I could already feel the delicate throbbing that built from deep within my belly and traveled down, making my panties grow damp. I’d already showered for bed so a blue, buttoned down t-shirt and a pair of hot pink panties was all the clothing that separated my skin from his.
He grabs hold of the collar of my shirt with both hands and guides my lips down to meet his for a kiss. It’s sensual, yet raw at the same time. But more importantly, it’s purely Damon. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth before kissing me fully. Within seconds, I’ve opened my mouth to accommodate his probing tongue. It’s a duel for dominance—a fight for control—and try as I might to gain the upper hand, I accept that I’m no match for him as he continues to massage his tongue with mine.
Lost somewhat in heated delirium, I gasp against his lips when rips open my shirt without warning, exposing my breasts. I can barely register the sound of buttons hitting the linoleum tile of the kitchen floor as I raise my hands and snake my arms around his neck. Fingers laced through his messy black hair, I find his full lips once again.
It is only after a few drawn out seconds does he move from my lips, to the curve of my jaw line. He continues downward, trailing soft kisses along my neck and collarbone until his talented mouth finds my perky, dark nipples. He runs his limber tongue lavishly over the sensitive skin. Up and down, then in a circular fashion before latching on and sucking greedily.
I whimper, biting down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out.
Against his tongue, I feel myself reclining back onto the island until I’m lying down, back arched, and writhing underneath him. I’m unable to take the build up any longer as the need to feel all of his skin on mine becomes urgent. In my lustful haze, I desperately reach for the button of his black denim jeans in hopes of removing the offensive clothing that separates us, but Damon grabs hold of my forearms and pins my hands above my head.
“Not yet,” he whispers huskily and I let out a groan, unwilling to give in to him when my body had a mind of its own. I wasn’t even above begging.
“Damon, please… I, I can’t just—”
Whatever words I might have spoken were swallowed completely when I felt his fingertips toy with the elastic of my panties. He enters and exits my moist folds so abruptly that I think that I’ve imagined such pleasure, but when I feel his calloused thumb over the blub of my clitoris, my toes curl and my eyes roll back. I squirm underneath him, trying to free my hands from his unleashing grip.
The sensation of his mouth on my breasts and his skillful fingers against my sex has me yearning for him to take me. I need him inside of me, and thankfully, it isn’t long before Damon finally shares my sense of urgency.
Releasing my hands, Damon slides off my soaked panties in one fluid motion and settles his head in between my legs, dipping his tongue in for a taste. I let out what could only be described as a decadent moan, aroused beyond belief. With skillful lips and tongue, Damon pleasured me like no man ever has. Teasing me, he flicks my clit with his tongue in a slow and lavish motion before taking the oversensitive blub in his mouth and sucking. I screamed out, digging my the heels of my feet into his lower back as he once again applies his fingers, thrusting them over and over into my dripping sex.
As it turns out, Damon was a gifted lover.
This was not much of a surprise given his overt, sexual nature. Behind his devilish smile and those mischievous baby blue eyes was the promise of mind-blowing sex, and as it turns out, he was a man who put his money where his mouth was—literally. A master with his tongue, he found sweet spots that I didn’t even know existed and teased them until I was a ball of nerves on top the island. My head rolled from side to side against the cool surface as he continued to bring me closer and closer to my peak.
Unable to fight it any longer, I gyrated on his fingers. Moaning and arching, I feel my fingers thread through his dark locks as I swiveled my hips like a mad woman in favor of any and all friction. It’s only matter of seconds before I’m riding out the orgasm that washes through my body in waves.
Breathing heavily, I lay limp as Damon rises from between my legs and pulls his jeans and briefs down past his bulging erection. I watched him through heavy-lidded eyes until I caught the first glimpse of his cock. My eyes widened.
He was slightly longer than I expected and thick. I could see just a bit of pre cum on the tip.
He stroked himself twice for good measure and even ran his length between my folds before positioning himself against the slick entrance of my center. “Now it’s time to see if you feel as good as you taste,” Damon smiled.
Leaning over, he took my mouth with his once again. I could taste myself on his lips and tongue as he hooked a hand under my left leg, pulling me closer to the edge of the island. I moved both hands to his lower back, loving the feel of his cool skin pressed so firmly against my fevered body. He pulled back slightly, breaking our kiss and moved his hand back down between our bodies to center his manhood.
“Damon…” I whisper, a wanton gaze on him. I couldn’t remember ever wanting something so badly in my entire life. My body was on fire and craving him in ways I would never have imagined. Then he thrust deep inside me and every coherent thought I had faded away to nothing.
I haven’t been a virgin for quite some time now, but it’s been a while since my last sexual encounter. To have Damon be the man to re-educate me… it’s a daunting task, but I find that I more than up for the challenge.
I bit back a moan as the onslaught of pleasure rose like quicksand to swallow me whole. I felt like I was on the edge of the precipice, able to reach my climax at the simplest of movements. It was almost as if my body had never known pleasure before tonight, before Damon. The way he filled me so completely was downright scary, but so unbelievably right.
“God,” Damon rasped, putting into words what I couldn’t even utter at the moment.
My slick walls clench hungrily around his thrusting shaft. Ravenous for every bit of him, my hands paw at the flesh of his back as I spread my legs even wider. Heavy sweat starts to film my skin as the new angle allows him to sink even farther inside, pleasuring me more than any man ever had before.
“Oh, Bonnie,” he groaned against my neck. “That’s it. Take me in.”
And I did, giving as much as I got.
For every thrust he gave, I pushed back into him, taking him deeper and deeper, until the thick crown of his cock brushed against my cervix. Never had anything hurt so good. I cried out, unable to ignore the pleasure that built up inside of me and Damon only encouraged me to let go even more.
“Don’t fight it,” he urges, quickening his pace. His thrusts are steady and focused, like a man with only mission in life. “I want to hear you scream,” he says and I relish the need to let go.
“Ahhh…Damon,” I moaned as he continued to fill me and then some. “…Yes…Oh God yes… harder…” With heavy lidded eyes, I slowly tried to regain some focus and the current state of him causes another ripple of arousal to tear through me like a freight train.
His canines had extended and his eyes were now viney and red. For a while, I’d almost forgotten that he was a vampire I’d feared for so long. I’d forgotten that, for him, true satisfaction could only come with one thing — the sweet taste of human blood.
So I did the unthinkable; something that the old Bonnie would never have done.
I pulled my hair over my shoulder, and bared my neck to him.
The look on Damon’s face was a mixture of surprise and …something else I couldn’t quite place. He’d never looked at me like that before and when I whispered, urging him to drink from me, it isn’t long before he buries his face in the crook of my neck and bites into flesh.
The feel of his sharp teeth breaking my skin stung at first, but then he thrust into me and what little pain I felt was forgotten.
I gripped and pawed at the flesh of his back, feeling my hair stick to the side of my face as the blood started to flow. I hold on as Damon rides me while he drinks, desperately trying to keep up with his increasing pace. I tightened my legs around his waist like a vice. His fingers laced through the locks of my damp hair, urging me to let in him go deeper and deeper. The harder he sucked, the deeper he thrust.
My body was no match for such over simulation.
He drew back, and then drove forth once more.
That was all it took.
I bucked beneath him, clawing his back with my nails as I came with a shudder.
I expected Damon to slow down to allow me to catch my breath as I slowly came down, but even though he released my neck, he sped up, riding me until the built up between my legs was renewed. I came for the third time tonight with another mind-blowing orgasm before he came too.
“Ohhh…fuck!” He groaned before collapsing on top of me. His head rested against mine. His breath was ragged and his mouth was stained with my blood.
I focus for a moment on his crimson lips and when he catches the wonderment in my green eyes, he smiles before pulling me into another searing kiss. A coopery taste fills my mouth as I practically swallow his tongue.
I know that we’ve started something that won’t easily be forgotten, nor will it lead to anything good, despite how wonderful it may have felt at this moment.
As I pull away from the lips, it’s like Damon can already sense the little wheels of logic turning in my head now that the passion has subsided.
“Not tonight,” he whispers, staring at me like he’s just discovered something shiny and new to play with and be coveted. “Nothing else matters, but this.” Still inside of me, he gives a good, long stroke that hits my inner wall and causes me to let out a guttural moan that beautifully straddles the line of pleasure and pain. My eyes close as I slowly unwrap my legs from over his narrow hips.
As I take in a deep breath, he places sweet, soft kisses over my face, eyelids and my lips. I feel as if he’s worshiping me. His movements are so leisurely, so matter of fact; it’s as if we haven’t spent the majority of our time despising each other in the past months.
After what we’ve just done, none of it even matters anymore.
When dawn approaches, Damon’s has had me on pretty much every hard surface of kitchen and even the floor in the living room. Thank God my father is out of town on business. My back is sore and the bite on my neck is starting to throb. I’m practically listless, but I’ve never felt so rejuvenated. I snuggle against Damon’s chest as we rest; a down blanket the only thing covering our modesty as we lay on the living room floor.
He gently strokes my hair, staring off at nothing in particular.
“Are you okay?” he asks and I’m not sure if he means physically or emotionally, so I simply nod, tightening my hold on him.
I sigh contently. “I’m good.”
And it’s all the words that pass between us; a comfortable silence filling the room.
Damon and I have an understanding…of sorts.
I mean, I could try to explain the circumstances regarding our little arrangement, but what would really be the point?
Words were not needed when it came to us.