WARNING: Graphic polyamory content ahead


There is a dull pulsing in her skull, courtesy of the previous night spent drinking herself into a stupor. The emptiness of the boarding house and the recovery time of vampire metabolism made it hard to forget that it had been weeks since she last heard Damon's voice or felt his hands on her body, that calming closeness of his presence that tells her she can breathe again because her maker is near. The longer he is away, the more it feels like there is a drop of water falling in the same spot, digging a hole through the bone to drill down her grey matter, and she feels the vague, whispering need to scratch at that hole like an infected wound.

The only time his absence doesn't claw on her brain like nails on a blackboard is when she's with Stefan, for Stefan Salvatore has always been the healing force in her life, the glass bell that protected her from any little thing. The mere awareness of him in the cell two floors under her is enough to make her hold fast during these difficult times.

When she was human, she liked to believe that everything in life happened for a reason, and that life was going to reward her for every loss with something bigger, greater, better. Yes, she had lost her parents, but she had been gifted with a stronger relationship with her little brother, with a romantic love that was the stuff novels were made of. And yes, she had died, but she had gotten a new life and a new eternal devotion. This time around, Bonnie had taken Stefan and driven Damon away. But soon, life was going to reward her for her suffering with all her heart desired.

Last night, when – try after try – once again Damon had let her call go to voicemail, and Caroline was playing guardian to Stefan, leaving her alone in her boyfriend's bedroom, she had assured herself of her future happiness, had indulged in the bonds that were hers and hers alone. She had looked for the comfort that Stefan could provide, wearing one of his shirts, feeling the texture of the fabric over her naked skin. The same material that had touched his muscled body was touching her naked breasts, her slender hips, enveloping her in the smell of his skin like a comforting, delicate erotic embrace. And yet, the subtle call of her instincts had lead her to sink herself between the sheets of Damon's bed, to hunt down her own pleasure like it could bring her lover back.

That's how she had fallen asleep, with the inadequate touch of her fingers as her mind called for Damon's mastery and her heart begged for Stefan's prowess, and her body rocked for both of them in a tense dance as they each pulled her in a different direction like a flag battered by violent winds.

It was easy, carried by the waves of lust, to envision it, the future her life was going to reward her with. A future where maybe they would have seen how right it was to not let their souls be chained by silly human morals that didn't apply to them anymore. Because human Elena could only cherish Stefan, and vampire Elena was dependant on Damon, and she could not choose one over the other because they were both, in their own way, the great love of her life.

She had been trembling for the fevered need of them and in her mind she was bent to their pleasure, filled up to the brink, working Stefan's impressive size with her mouth as Damon eased his considerable length into her from behind, making her knees burn whenever he pumped up into her and, in turn, forcing her to take his brother's cock deeper.

Their attention was completely on her, as it was supposed to be, and Stefan caressed her hair languidly while the heel of Damon's hand traveled along her spine, and their words were of love.

"You're so beautiful," one said, looking down into her eyes. "Isn't she the most beautiful creature you've ever seen?" he asked conversationally to his brother, speaking in awe as he indulged in the sensation of her warmth. "Nothing compares," the other answered truthfully. "She's fucking perfect," he added with a growl that rumbled up from within the steely walls of his soul into her petite body. "Tight and perfect, yeah," because in their common, devoted, consuming love for her the brothers could finally understand each other like never before.

It was blissful perfection. She was overflowing with love and lust, dripping and tingling, on the brink of an explosion, but before she could enjoy the pleasure she was being offered, behind her lids her worshipped curves darkened. Damon's hand was traveling on caramel skin, and Stefan's fingers were gripping black hair, and Bonnie was at the centre of their unyielding attention, glowing in gold like a newly discovered treasure.

Damon bent over her to cup her breasts with his large hands and kiss her shoulder languidly as he picked up his pumping while Stefan framed her face with both his hands and stared deeply into her eyes, swallowing a roar as he rocked gently into her mouth and felt the approaching orgasm she was going to capture and hold in her body like it belonged to her. For it did.

"A goddess…" one said. "Our goddess," the other repeated, and their raspy voices were confused, tangled together, echoing in her skull and pounding painfully in her ribcage. And though she couldn't tell who had spoken first or who had spoke later, the image of the attuned, carnal rhythm they kept for their lover was sharp and vivid in Elena's eyes, behind her eyelids, within her brain.

It was Bonnie they loved and adored, Bonnie shattering from pleasure as wave after wave of agonizing passion battered her irretrievably.

And Elena screamed, in her dream and in her vacant bed, but no one heard her. No one came to her side. No one rushed to her to dry her tears of frustration.

It all adds to the pressure against her dead lungs, on her brain cell, and she breaks it trashing the room until nothing is left of her rage.


Caroline had made a list of things to do to help him pass the time and regain his previous, self-sacrificing, sincerely underappreciated self, and he can see the wheels turning in her mind so clearly that's it's almost like watching TV.

Stefan is not mad at her, because he can think clearly when her voice takes that monotonous inflection as she reads to him, trying to be soothing. Caroline is easier to turn off when she's not being herself but rather what she thinks others want her to be. Maybe one day Stefan will again care about her enough to tell her, but right now he has strings to pull, and vampires to play, and a luscious little prey to capture.

She's been reading for almost an hour before the book bores her enough to make her pass out, sitting on her chair outside her cell. Her head falls forward, a curtain of blonde hair covering part of her face and uncovering it again when it lolls on her neck. Her incessant can-do attitude irritates him quite a bit, but on occasion she makes him smile though the haze of his desire for Bonnie, over his sweet tooth for manipulation, and he doesn't resent her. He just wishes she'd do her Twelve Steps program when he's got a hole in his schedule, because Elena needs his repeated cajolement and his subtle estrangement to find herself in the exact spot he needs her to be, because he works with her the way Ivan Pavlov worked with his dogs. He knows, because Stefan actually helped him with that.

The book falls from Caroline's lap in the morning. He knows because he can feel the subtle change in the temperature of the walls, though they are thick and humid, and the sound awakens her with a startle.

"God, my neck," she laments, slipping her fingers along the curve of it.

"I wanted to wake you, but you seemed to need the rest," he says gently, sounding so much like the Stefan she adores that she has trouble finding the words immediately.

"I'm fine," she replies, "but the book was boring. What do you even like about it?" she asks, picking it back up from the ground.

His steps make her lift her eyes, as she's kneeling down on the concrete, to see him appearing behind the bars. "It might seem empty and superficial, but it possesses a scintillating quality about it," His voice is soft like he's speaking a secret between them, like he's unraveling her soul, delicately so. "It has moments of sharpness, and great tenderness that leave you dazed and fascinated," he continues.

She feels naked under his gaze in a way that is both terrifying and erotic. A hushed voice in the back of her mind is telling her, 'of course, Bonnie had no chance against such a man.'

"Like, for example: I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity," he quotes, observing her like he hasn't seen her in a long time, and making her feel like she had never been seen before. "Like: His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy's white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited…" he paused, eyes fixed into Caroline's, listening for the breath of her that did not come, for she was so completely still she had stopped breathing, "…listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed like a flower and the incarnation was complete."

Her stomach trembles, and somehow his fingers are tracing the contours of her heart.

Caroline bats her lashes, standing up from the ground and dusting off the imaginary lint from her skinny jeans, holding his eyes like she knows she'll lose if she doesn't. Like a part of her knows what he's doing though he doesn't himself. Chances are he's resentful because she's hindering his plan, slowing him down when he could already have Elena opening that damn door for him.

Chances are he wants her to know she's not immune to him either, that he could play her instead of her friend, though he chooses not to for some obscure reason that darkens his mood greatly at times.

"I'd still rather wait for the movie," she informs him, doing her best impression of a woman radiating indifference, trying to shake his spell off of her and abandoning his precious first copy of The Great Gatsby on the chair.

There is a little bit of pride in him for the way she stood her ground, and a certain desire for retaliation because of it. Her presence makes that cell feel crowded. Elena has lost the attention and care of his old self – there's nothing in him fighting to protect her – but Caroline hasn't; and it can feel inconvenient at times; and appealing, if only slightly.

Yet he's already set in motion his plan, and it would slow him down to turn his attention to Caroline, though she's so pretty, so fresh, so new. He's wondering – as he occasionally did before – what kind of solace a man can find in the arms of someone so blindly devoted like her. She'd do anything and everything for him, he knows, but when his mind tries to conjure up the scene, only Bonnie appears, bathed in light, wet with longing for him, whispering in his ear and turning his sight black.

"You want another?" she asks, resting her chin on his shoulder, tenderly, playfully, for she knows the answer already. Her index finger draws a path along his defined chest, following a vein hidden by the fabric of his t-shirt stretched by the large muscles.

"Never," the Ripper in him swears in the darkness.


He's doing his best to ignore it, but every now and again her fingers twitch. Her fist moves involuntarily over the table as she tries to concentrate on the words she's reading, and he can feel the energy collecting at the bottom of her stomach, inside her veins, nudging at him like a bully pestering his victim.

Damon slides his fingers into his thick black hair, pushing back against the chair to raise his annoyed gaze to her. Bonnie ignores him as usual.

"You have some steam to let off, witch, and coincidentally I know just the way you can do that with maximum satisfaction." One corner of his mouth tilts up into a grin as he watches her face morph into a haughty repulsed expression. It has always turned him on a little, that disgusted face, that holier than thou attitude, that underlying threat to only touch him with a stick long enough to beat him dead. It was a sort of challenge he had wished to take on more than once, but survival had held him back, or so he thought at the time. Now he's more inclined to think it felt safer not to see the grip she had on him, because he was devoted to hopeless causes but this one took the damn cake.

Bonnie raises her eyes only to peek around and make sure no one heard him make this proposition.

"For Elena's sake, I'll pretend you didn't just say what you just said," she mutters, turning a page of her book. Her finger trembles slightly and the page tears a little at the seam.

Her conscience tries to remind her that Elena's sake wasn't of much interest to her when she's let Damon see her naked, when she tried to seduce him into letting her become a vampire so she could go back to Stefan and have him use her however he pleased without risking her life anymore; but her mind is a little clearer, and the way Damon's eyes look at her make her slightly claustrophobic, and so she'll shield herself however she can with no regrets.

"Elena doesn't get to tell me how or with whom I get to blow off my steam, anymore," he replies; and his voice holds no severity, like there's no part of him dwelling on it, no spark of hope or rage to tell her how much he truly cares about Elena. She can't reconcile him with the single-minded vampire she always knew, and it's something that can screw their whole barely found balance, because she knows how to deal with Damon Whipped Salvatore, she knows what button to push with him and how to use his love for Elena to her advantage, but she doesn't know how to deal with him when Elena Gilbert is not the Earth to his satellite.

"She loves you," she says, spitting the words with no sentiment. Yet, in her mind she can only see Elena's joy when she believed Stefan's attraction towards her to be the product of a spell. "She's overly protective of Stefan but that's only–"

"Because she loves him, too," Damon finishes, reaching his hand out to grab the folded newspaper he had set aside before, when they began their fruitless study to find a solution to the dark moon magic. "But no hard feelings here. The sire-bond probably screwed her brain a bit. And I screwed the rest of her," he adds, voice dripping sarcasm.

"You're being unfair," Bonnie accuses, words rolling smoothly over her tongue, feeling much more like herself when she can blame him for something.

"She's the lousiest friend I ever saw, and I've done some awful things to my so-called friends," he admits, studying her with interest, "So, believe me when I say that for me to say that counts for something." He leans over, placing his forearms on the long table of the library. "She accused you of magically raping her ex-boyfriend and turning him into your sex slave, like that would take much effort." He chuckles rolling his eyes at the idiocy of the concept, and misses the fleeting embarrassment on Bonnie's face at his acknowledgement of her sexual allure. "And you still defend her…" he says, amazed, and slightly irked. "So, is this you being your usual martyr self? Or is it just that fighting me is what gets your juices flowing?" He leaves behind the thought of Elena to open the newspaper to the 13th page, sliding it in front of Bonnie. "Because in that case, I know just the place where you can do that to your heart's content." He points his finger on the side column where there's an advertisement for a place called Hot Shots that invites people to Come empty your load.

She's about to tell him in as many words as she can muster how disgusting she finds him when he stops her.

"And before you refuse my offer," he says patiently, "you should know that despite its appropriately suggestive name, this means you'll get to actually have a gun and shoot m–"

"I'm in." Bonnie accepts immediately.


The guy welcoming them has a bored expression on his face after almost ten hours of watching the testosterone-fest of the mostly pimply group of boys that pack into the place, but he's decent enough not to take it out on them.

"Sorry guys," he says, with a doleful expression, "But the only team you can go against is the Huston Rockstars. The last one just left after losing big time, and since you're newbies, I don't think you'll have much fun. You'll more likely lose in five seconds flat and they'll celebrate like they won against ISIS," he explains looking down towards Bonnie and leaning in to add, "They are complete assholes, and because they just became a professional team they've got even worse," as the loud group is getting closer and closer.

There is a resounding laugh before someone calls, "Rod, are you holding a new team back? You know we've got muscle to flex here," a blonde, freckled guy says, elbowing one of his friends as his eyes land on Bonnie. She would have found him more attractive had he kept his mouth shut.

"I've got a flashlight in the truck of my car, if you need help finding it," Damon comments, without turning to the guy.

"What did you just say?" The other guy jumps at Damon's words and pushes his friends away even before they can grab at him, like he was itching to make a scene and show off his masculinity. Bonnie recognizes it as a sign of insecurity, and probably ineptitude in bed. Her unimpressed look only worsens the mood.

"Rod here said he's lost a key," Damon lies jovially, rapidly backed up by the owner, who is not exactly happy at the prospect of having to call the police on one of his most loyal teams.

"Right, right," he says, "Anyway, Glenn, I was just explaining to them that they're no match for you, so it wouldn't be fun to go against each other."

"Oh, but we can be gentle," he replies slimily. "Can't we, guys?" he asks, keeping his eyes on Bonnie.

"But I like it rough," she argues, taking great care in sounding disappointed. The reply she gets is a loud chuckle and some whistles of approval.

"Should I assume that you don't want to shoot at me that much anymore?" Damon whispers, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans to the side towards her.

"That's…possible," she ponders, surprised at her own admission.

"What are we waiting for?" Glenn calls.

"Calm down, buddy," Damon replies, turning to Rod and signaling for him to give them the necessary gear while putting down a golden credit card. "He probably has a habit of shooting his load too soon," he comments turning towards Bonnie. She chuckles at that without worrying about offending the guy, rather foretasting the humiliation she'll feed him. It's probably petty of her, but she's away from Stefan, her friendship with Elena is hanging by a thread, and the only one left to remind her what's right and what's wrong is Damon Salvatore, so she has all the rights to be petty. And then some.

"He's being so eager about this that shooting someone is probably the only way he gets to penetrate them," she replies with a shrug, making Damon turn sharply to her. Rod's eyes bulge out. She has impressed them and she's smug about it.

Not so much when it comes to gearing up, since she has never tried playing war before. When it comes to war, she doesn't play. So, she ends up being dressed by Damon, and feeling like a doll, precious and delicate. She makes a point to appear even more clumsy than she is, and Damon doesn't comment on it, but she knows when he looks down into her eyes that he's having fun, too, leading them to believe she's incapable of moving around clad in her mask and goggles, let alone holding a gun.

"You, little evil thing, you," Damon whispers against her cheek as he leans in to strap the helmet under her chin. "I really like you," he admits in a strange rush of genuine pride. Yet his expression falls as he registers the words he's muttered, but she's interpreted them as a compliment for her little scheme, so she doesn't flinch, and clearly that was the meaning behind them. He wasn't trying to make a move, or court her or anything like that.

He's not stupid enough to give himself permission to fall at her feet just because she's beautiful and feisty and can give back as much as she gets. And she's in love with his brother, anyway. He went down that path twice before and got his heart broken both times. He's not itching for a reprise. But looking at her green eyes, and the curve of her mouth and the way she lets him attire her, for a moment he thinks maybe it would be worth the try.

But she doesn't want his heart, he reminds himself. She wouldn't ask for it not even if it was edible and she was starving. All she wants, right now, is a little vengeance to take out on a group of poor bastards, so he plays their game, lets them circle him, convinces them they are winning this battle easily and lets Bonnie have a bit of satisfaction.

She takes them down one by one, using a little trick of magic here and there, sneaking inside a hut and disappearing. Sliding inside an empty trunk and fading into thin air. Making them see shadows in the setting sun as she gets swallowed by the violent green of the vegetation when she crawls on the ground.

He's so relieved to see that it doesn't backfire at her, that he forgets the game and Glenn ends up pointing his rifle at him.

The bullet of color explodes in Damon's ear before it can actually hit the camouflage suit. Glenn's eyes grow wide at the realization and Damon crosses his feet as he leans against the tree at his back observing the scene with smugness.

"You shot him in the ass," he says, with a large smile. "That's too evil even for my standards."

"Fuck," the guys swears, taking off his goggles. "Fuck me," he mutters again, angry at himself.

"Her standards are not that low," Damon replies, passing Glenn by and leaving him behind as he joins Bonnie to walk away with her.

"I just saved your life," Bonnie reminds him, letting her rifle rest on her shoulders, and blowing a strand of hair from her face. "You should be thanking me instead of questioning my morals." She smells like pain and white flowers.

"Thank you, my champion," he offers dramatically, placing a palm over his heart, "I'm forever indebted to you. I shall pledge my life to your service."

Bonnie rolls her eyes at his dramatic antics, waving a hand in the air. "Yes, yes," she replies with a sigh, "Do not forget that."

She doesn't imagine that he won't.


Note: Hi there, I hope this chapter founds you well and you enjoyed it. I'll be waiting for your review and to hear your sincere opinion (but to that/those person/s that likes to insult me in the review section and to accuse me to be deceitful to stefonnie fans I'd like to tell to stay away and keep their opinion for themselves). I'm having a difficult moment so it's quite hard to sit down and let my brain be engulfed by my stories long enough to write, but I tried my best and I'll do that again as soon as things will let me. If you're still in quarantine I hope this story helps you a bit and provide a safe zone to unload.

As usual, if you can 8and if you want) you can buy me a coffee over my kofi page, you'll find the link in my bio or on my tumblr page, you are welcome to follow me and/or to send me prompts... I don't always have the ispiration to develope them, but I'll always take them into consideration and do my besto to try and fullfill them.