In the Looking Glass-NC-17
Bonnie dry-washed her face as she watched Damon stroke his member. His thumb brushed the head, and he shuddered. Bonnie moaned, scooting to the edge of her seat as she bit her lip. She was past being surprised at what she was doing. She rested one of her hands on the desk and slid the other above the crystal ball. The image wavered and bobbed, and she went from a side view of Damon’s naked body to a close view of his face. She loved watching his face, the different ticks and contractions, as he worked himself. He sat on his bed, his back to the headboard, his legs spread wide open. She mimicked him as he licked his lips. She didn’t think there was anyone more comfortable with their bodies than Damon Salvatore. She grabbed the ball by its base and moved it closer. This was honestly not her intention the first time.
Her father had gotten her the crystal ball as a gift. She had been feeling depressed due to the path her life was taking. He had called her to the living room one day when he came home from work, and he’d presented her with a box wrapped in blue paper. It wasn’t often that she received a gift outside of her birthday, and she had really needed a good surprise in this instance. She had been amazed when she saw the clearest glass she had ever seen. She had expressed her amazement to her father, and he’d warned her not to touch the glass explaining that it was a crystal ball made from rock crystal. She had grabbed it by its base, carved with the symbols of the zodiac along with the Chinese symbol for fire, to admire it. It had been heavier than she had expected. She would have been perfectly content to stare at the large, beautiful piece of glass, but learning that it was more than decorative brought a smile to her face. She could use it to see into the past, present, and future. That was how her father and grams had kept an eye on The Founders Council. It’s also how he had known that she needed this. In trying to predict her future, he had seen her set Damon on fire. He had seen her reach her limits. He would teach her to meditate with the ball. The empty, featureless interior would help in clearing her mind, relieving her stress. She had thanked him with a wide smile and a big hug and left, his warning not to abuse it trailing behind her.
She was too afraid of the future to predict it, knowing she wouldn’t feel any better if she knew exactly what kind of bad things were going to happen. She already knew her past, so she focused on the present. She looked in on the school, its halls empty and waiting for the students to fill it in the fall. As with any normal person, it occurred to her to check on her friends. Somberly, she looked in on Caroline. Her friend’s attitude was the opposite of hers as she chatted away on the phone with Tikki about what routines to do in the coming school year. Her smile was one of sadness and hope as she watched. She did not check on Elena, not wanting to spy on something she had no business seeing. The thought of Elena and Stefan brought her to Damon. She sat back in her chair and thought about it. She was curious about what he did when he wasn’t trying to kill people and ruin lives. Besides, she had recently tried to kill him, so it would be good for her to know if he was planning something in revenge. She made her desire known while waving her hands above the ball, and there he was. With a frown on her face, she watched him laugh with Caroline’s mom before they resumed talking about figuring out why the device had affected Mayor Lockwood. Yet another person that was buying Damon’s bull. In her annoyed state, she ignored the fact that Sheriff Forbes did not know the truth about him. Knowing the truth about Damon did not seem to make a difference she was finding. She rolled her neck to let out the tension that was quickly overpowering her before she made the image fade.
She had looked in on him the second time because she had really thought he was coming after her.
Two nights in a row, she dreamed of setting him on fire. Only instead of going toward him, the fire rushed at her. She could not stop it; her powers had ceased to work, yet the spell was still active. Damon lay on the ground watching, his eyes alit with mirth as the fire climbed up her body. She woke up in a sweat both times, her head pounding, her heart escalating. So she reached on her nightstand, grabbed the crystal ball and looked. What she saw rendered her still. Damon was in the shower, one of his hands resting on the wall in front of him as he masturbated with the other.
“Oh shit,” she whispered as she watched. Her own voice shocked her into realizing that what she was doing was inappropriate. She gasped and covered her eyes with her hands, the ball resting between her crossed legs. That did not erase the sound.
“Uhhh,” she heard him grunt.
“Oh my God,” she whispered in panic. She split her ring and pinky fingers and peeked through them. “Oh my freaking gosh. No!” she squeaked. She was watching her enemy masturbate. She removed her hands and looked around her room, as if the ball was a television stuck on a program she shouldn’t be watching, and she could not find the channel changer and didn’t know how to manually change the channel. The ball re-captured her attention when Damon grunted again. As soon as she looked, Damon came with a curse. Bonnie’s entire throat was involved in this latest loud gasp, and she balled her hands and held them to her mouth as she watched Damon’s come spill out and mix in with the water. He made sounds she had never heard before. He shuddered and growled; his face intense as he rode his orgasm, his hand jerking his cock. Once spent, he leaned against the tiled wall and caught his breath.
Mouth agape, Bonnie quickly shoved the crystal ball beneath her covers. She threw a guilty look at her door, afraid that she might have been loud enough for her father to hear. When she stood in her own shower stall later on, she took extra care to wash her body and only wash her body. After all, it was only utter shock that kept her from wiping away the image of Damon in his private moment.
As Damon slowly stroked himself, smearing his pre-come along his member, Bonnie stood and let her hair fall from its messy ponytail. It was still a bit damp. Practice at Tikki’s house had run late. She shook out her now wavy hair and proceeded to undress. After taking off her bra, she waved her hand over the globe while whispering a couple of words, and the image moved to Damon’s pelvis and slowly travelled up to his torso while she took off her bottoms. Anticipation burned in Bonnie’s stomach.
Watching Damon masturbate was like watching him make love to himself. He took his time. He caressed his cock, and she has wondered more than once if that is how he was with women. Was he generous or, going in line with what she thought of him, selfish? When she had masturbated after seeing him that first time, she had tried to think of anything but the image that was seared into her brain. The first time she had masturbated while watching him, she had tried not to think about what it said about her.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she carried to crystal to her bed like a prized trophy, her eyes never leaving her private show. The wet sound of flesh against flesh as Damon picked up the pace again had her squeezing her own wet thighs. She smiled and shuddered as she watched. She loved to watch him doing this. She had realized it the first time she crossed paths with him since she’d developed her shameful secret. Only while watching him be cocky, sarcastic, obnoxious, and a complete know-it-all, she had not felt that ashamed. He had been in the middle of an argument with Stefan and Elena about why his way was better, and she had retreated inside her head to think over this new realization. Since she had been sporting her customary frown of ‘I Do Not Want to Be Mixed Up in This,’ no one thought there was anything out of the ordinary. When he had addressed her directly, she had been speechless. In that moment, she had gotten the most embarrassing urge to look down at what she knew he wielded in his pants.
She placed the ball between her legs and supported herself on an elbow. She touched her breasts as Damon’s breathing became shallow. That first encounter had left her bolder. She had not worried about getting caught in a long time. She lay down, closed her eyes, and explored her body. Her hands framed her pelvis before continuing to her thighs. She undulated her hips while her arousal leaked out of her. She moved her hips to the rhythm of his breaths as she wondered not for the first time what he thought of when he jacked off. What kept him hard as he teased himself by prolonging his orgasm?
Her fingers ghosted along her skin leaving goose bumps in their trail. She heard the change in Damon’s breathing pattern. He had slowed down again. She moaned as she pictured him with her mind’s eye: hard, lean angles; sinewy legs; fingers both firm and yielding. She had gotten off many times while fantasizing about sucking on his thumb. She slowly spread her pussy lips apart, enjoying the sensation of the folds separating, pulling from the pre-come that matted them to her skin. She squeezed her hooded clit and started rubbing it in a circle.
“Mmm.” She dipped her hand down to her opening and let the fluid from her desire gather there. She then spread it on her nipples. She twisted the hard peaks, arching her back in wanton pleasure. She squeezed her breasts and juggled them, alternately squeezing her chocolate nipples. She lifted her legs and ran her hands along the back of her thighs. Damon had taught her to take her time.
She sat up when she heard quick movement. He had started jacking off with fervor, and she knew he was going to the summit this time. Her pillows were already prepared. She placed them and then slid down on the bed. She positioned herself on her elbow again and slipped a digit into her pussy. “Shit,” she murmured as she slipped in a second finger. She fingered herself in tempo with him. She had timed her orgasm to his many times. Other times she came first and then watched him as she came down from the apex, and other times still she let him come first and then brought herself off while watching him rub his still engorged cock with come all over his thigh.
“Fuck,” he cursed and she responded with, “oh yes,” as she gratuitously lifted her right leg. A wet slopping sound flooded the room as she picked up her rhythm. He soon followed and they were in sync again. She smiled greedily as she watched him growl. She hoped he did it. It was always a silent wish since the first time he had done it.
“Fuck yeeeessss, fuck,” he spat gutturally as his hand repeatedly swallowed the head of his dick.
“Oh God, come on, please,” she breathed. She never said his name. Her clit burned as it peeked from its hood. She stopped her ministrations just long enough to rest her shoulders on the pillows. She resumed her play, this time rubbing her clit with her other hand. Her eyes never left him. Her legs started to tremble and her pussy started to flex around her fingers. He let out an expletive as he molded his flesh. He finally budged from his spot, his other hand fisting his sheets. He hunkered down on himself, his shoulders hunched, his face hidden from her.
“Oooo,” she said brokenly. She unceremoniously moved her legs about the bed as her orgasm became within reach. She rubbed her clit mercilessly as her fingers flew in and out of her. She bent her legs and buried her toes on the bed, and then it happened. Damon came, ‘fuck’ on his lips. He threw his head up, fangs bared, eyes black and vein-y, and Bonnie lost it. Her head thrashed against the pillows as an intense orgasm ripped through her. Her scream was animalistic as her fingers lost coordination and rhythm. Her come gushed out of her, squirting past her hand and on the bed. “OH. Oh, oh.” She folded into the fetal position as she heard him growl, her hands locked between her legs as she desperately tried to get much needed air into her lungs.
///
Damon flicked his thumb over the bulbous head of his cock and wondered if she was still looking. He had barely remembered not to shout her name. As it was, he now struggled not to tell her goodnight. If she was just now coming, acknowledging her might put a right end to that. He didn’t stop the chuckle. He moved over to a less wet spot on the bed and then lay down, spreading himself out for her to see. He closed his eyes with a smile on his face. His newly spent cock twitched, giving signs of life as he thought of her watching him get off. Of her getting off while watching him get off. That was his favorite part; his favorite fantasy; what had been making him come for the past 4 months.
It had been two months into Bonnie’s new hobby when he had figured it out. For a while he had felt the distinct sensation of being watched. His first suspect had naturally been Katherine. The bitch had eyes everywhere. He had brought it to Stefan’s attention, and they’d scoured the perimeter of the mansion. Nothing, but they had kept up their guard. Then, he had realized that he only felt like he was being watched during certain times. Namely when he was masturbating. What the hell would spying on him while he masturbated get Katherine? Nevertheless, he had searched the perimeter of the mansion in his birthday suit. Still nothing. He had known he was being watched. If there wasn’t a person physically standing outside of his house watching him, then they had to be doing it through other means. He had started to think outside of the box and came to the only conclusion: magic. Katherine was using magic to spy on him. Why the fuck, he didn’t know. Magic and that little murderous witch went hand in hand, so he had decided to bring his suspicions to her.
He waited against her car in the parking lot of the school all day in order to tell her his theory. He had been so caught up in his thoughts about what Katherine could be up to, since she had declared that it was Stefan she loved so why the fuck was she looking at him, that he didn’t hear the final bell ring. He snapped back to his surroundings when he heard some teenager yell something or other. He crossed his arms as he looked for the witch. He saw her hurry down the front steps with Elena before she continued to gossip or whatever it was she and Elena talked about. He was at once glad and disappointed that Elena was there. The witch would be more cooperative, but…the witch would be more cooperative. He was sure that that was the last thing she wanted to be with him after she had irrationally set him on fire two months ago. As he watched her gather her hair on top of her head only to let it fall again, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. Didn’t Stefan say she’d acquired a crystal ball? His brother had said that might help them in their fight against Katherine, and he’d responded with an unenthusiastic, “great,” and his ever-suffering younger brother had walked away. He frowned as his mind refused to draw the conclusion. Now he considered himself the mentally, and physically, quicker of the Salvatores, but the witch spying on him while he jacked off?! His eyes widened as the thought took hold. He slowly straightened as he watched her laugh conservatively with her arms crossed. He backed away, mouth agape, hitting the back of his leg against the car as she shook her head in amusement at something Elena had said.
He couldn’t have faced her then. His new thought wouldn’t leave him alone. He had needed to go back and think about it. And the more he had thought about it; the more he had believed it was her. And he had seen red.
He burned a trail on the expensive rug as he paced back and forth. Each time he would slow down, a picture of the witch watching him on her magic ball would pop in his mind, and he would get going again. His blood was hot, and he’d broken three glasses against the wall. If Stefan knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t come home any time soon, because he wanted a fight. That fucking witch was getting mighty comfortable. First she sets him on fire and now she’s playing voyeur? What is he a puppet? Yeah, that’s exactly what she thought he was. He spun on his heel when he got to the end of the room and headed the way he just came. Like Katherine. He was there for her amusement. He went to the wet bar, poured a scotch, downed it, and slammed glass against glass, cracking the bar. His fangs were itching to come out. He was going to go to her house, no; he’d wait for her at the school again. He was going to grab her by the shoulders, and he was going to sink his fucking teeth into her. He was going to drink to his heart’s content, and just when she was close to death, he would feed her his blood and bring her back. Fucking watch her deal with that. No. He resumed pacing. He rolled his head as he walked. He’d get in her head while she slept and paralyze her with nightmare after nightmare. She wouldn’t be able to step out of her house when he was done with her. Fuck it he could do both, and he wasn’t going to wait another day.
He had stormed out of the mansion, slamming the door behind him. He hadn’t bothered turning into a crow, he had ran to her house.
He would trap her before she went inside. He would show her who was still the most fucking powerful between her and him. He hid, barely, around the corner of her house. As soon as she stepped in front of the door, he would snatch her away. Maybe he would take her to that same spot in the words where he’d bitten her the first time, for maximum effect. His head swam with the images of how he was going to torture her. She was going to cower in front of him again if it was the last fucking thing he did. He crouched and waited. It was getting late which was perfect. As he waited, in between fantasizing about how he was going to make her tremble before him, he tried to figure out where her sudden interest in voyeurism had come from. He would have never thought her a sadistic, perverted one. And why did she keep looking in on him?
He heard a car door shut, and he peaked around the corner. It was her. He stealthily stood up as she pulled her backpack from the front seat. She strapped it to her back, and shut the door. Her face was relaxed for once. She walked up to the house, and he could not imagine her sporting that same privileged, faux coy smirk that was permanently attached to Katherine’s face. The witch always meant what she did. She had meant to kill him. So was she now watching him because she…liked it?
He tried to merge his knowledge of the witch who was so righteous that she’d kill him with his knowledge of the witch who apparently liked to watch him get off. He let her go inside her house. He needed to think on this more. He leaned against the wall. He knew she was a puzzling little thing, but this might be too much for him to wrap his mind around. The uptight, moral, sanctimonious, judgey little witch, the crusader for the innocent people of Mystic Falls, the one with a list of rights and wrongs…liked to watch him masturbate. And then the thought that she might be getting off while watching occurred to him, and his mind was blown.
That thought was now his favorite fantasy. His little witch lording over him, watching the small world that consisted of only him; liking what she saw so much that she came because of it; her looking forward to and anticipating him taking his clothes off.
And she would still take him out if he stepped out of line again. It excited him as much as it pissed him off.
///
It was the next week, and Bonnie waved goodbye to Elena and Caroline and then made her way to her porch. It was the first time she had partied in months, at Caroline’s insistence of course. She was a little tipsy, she felt great, and if she was lucky Damon would get naked tonight. She giggled as she ran up the steps, her stiletto boots clacking against the cement. She was digging through her small purse and had found her keys when she heard the voice.
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Bonnie froze as her stomach dropped and the hair on her arms stood on end. Oh God.
“I bet good ‘ole Lord Acton knew nothing of true power to have come up with some lame shit like that.”
She turned as he walked from the shadows and into the light. He knew. It was so obvious that he knew.
“Am I right?” he asked slowly as he stood in front of her.
She flattened her back against the door though her chest still stood out proudly. “What are you doing here?” she asked, voice composed.
“I’m not here to answer any questions. I’ve been performing for you looonnnggg enough.” He lifted his hand and placed it on the door behind her, cornering her.
Bonnie’s throat dried up, and it hurt to swallow. She opened her mouth, but, unbelievably, only a squeak came out.
Damon smiled like the Cheshire cat as he leaned down. “Considering they’re all you can focus on, you should know my faults better than anyone, Bonnie. I don’t do things without expecting anything in return.” He leaned away from her and cocked his head, blatantly checking her out. Her pale pink coat fit to her body; her black skinny jeans clung to her legs, but it was what she wore on her feet that captured his attention. They were black, they were peep-toed, and they were laced up. His mind immediately had her in only those boots and her underwear.
She cleared her throat. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said looking every bit sorry.
“I didn’t come here for an apology,” he said, getting close to her again.
“I know that too,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed on her.
A small frown line appeared on Bonnie’s brow, and she said, “I…I don’t want to sleep with you, Damon. I really don’t. I just…want to…watch,” she whispered with a small shake of her head. Her heart was racing in her chest, and her palms were sweating in her gloves. How could she have ever believed that she wouldn’t get caught? It had just been so easy. So private. She didn’t know how he knew; how it ever even occurred to him. But she was busted. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll stop, I swear.”
And she gave him her back, opened her door, and shut it with one last apologetic look.
Damon was as still as a statue. His cheekbones jutted out as his teeth pushed against each other. He walked away from the house, across the street, and found the spot in the shadows that gave him a clear view of her room. He saw her come to her window and look out. She closed her curtains. She knew he was there. He didn’t think she’d find being watched as arousing as he did. He didn’t think so.
All the same. He watched.
Her father had gotten her the crystal ball as a gift. She had been feeling depressed due to the path her life was taking. He had called her to the living room one day when he came home from work, and he’d presented her with a box wrapped in blue paper. It wasn’t often that she received a gift outside of her birthday, and she had really needed a good surprise in this instance. She had been amazed when she saw the clearest glass she had ever seen. She had expressed her amazement to her father, and he’d warned her not to touch the glass explaining that it was a crystal ball made from rock crystal. She had grabbed it by its base, carved with the symbols of the zodiac along with the Chinese symbol for fire, to admire it. It had been heavier than she had expected. She would have been perfectly content to stare at the large, beautiful piece of glass, but learning that it was more than decorative brought a smile to her face. She could use it to see into the past, present, and future. That was how her father and grams had kept an eye on The Founders Council. It’s also how he had known that she needed this. In trying to predict her future, he had seen her set Damon on fire. He had seen her reach her limits. He would teach her to meditate with the ball. The empty, featureless interior would help in clearing her mind, relieving her stress. She had thanked him with a wide smile and a big hug and left, his warning not to abuse it trailing behind her.
She was too afraid of the future to predict it, knowing she wouldn’t feel any better if she knew exactly what kind of bad things were going to happen. She already knew her past, so she focused on the present. She looked in on the school, its halls empty and waiting for the students to fill it in the fall. As with any normal person, it occurred to her to check on her friends. Somberly, she looked in on Caroline. Her friend’s attitude was the opposite of hers as she chatted away on the phone with Tikki about what routines to do in the coming school year. Her smile was one of sadness and hope as she watched. She did not check on Elena, not wanting to spy on something she had no business seeing. The thought of Elena and Stefan brought her to Damon. She sat back in her chair and thought about it. She was curious about what he did when he wasn’t trying to kill people and ruin lives. Besides, she had recently tried to kill him, so it would be good for her to know if he was planning something in revenge. She made her desire known while waving her hands above the ball, and there he was. With a frown on her face, she watched him laugh with Caroline’s mom before they resumed talking about figuring out why the device had affected Mayor Lockwood. Yet another person that was buying Damon’s bull. In her annoyed state, she ignored the fact that Sheriff Forbes did not know the truth about him. Knowing the truth about Damon did not seem to make a difference she was finding. She rolled her neck to let out the tension that was quickly overpowering her before she made the image fade.
She had looked in on him the second time because she had really thought he was coming after her.
Two nights in a row, she dreamed of setting him on fire. Only instead of going toward him, the fire rushed at her. She could not stop it; her powers had ceased to work, yet the spell was still active. Damon lay on the ground watching, his eyes alit with mirth as the fire climbed up her body. She woke up in a sweat both times, her head pounding, her heart escalating. So she reached on her nightstand, grabbed the crystal ball and looked. What she saw rendered her still. Damon was in the shower, one of his hands resting on the wall in front of him as he masturbated with the other.
“Oh shit,” she whispered as she watched. Her own voice shocked her into realizing that what she was doing was inappropriate. She gasped and covered her eyes with her hands, the ball resting between her crossed legs. That did not erase the sound.
“Uhhh,” she heard him grunt.
“Oh my God,” she whispered in panic. She split her ring and pinky fingers and peeked through them. “Oh my freaking gosh. No!” she squeaked. She was watching her enemy masturbate. She removed her hands and looked around her room, as if the ball was a television stuck on a program she shouldn’t be watching, and she could not find the channel changer and didn’t know how to manually change the channel. The ball re-captured her attention when Damon grunted again. As soon as she looked, Damon came with a curse. Bonnie’s entire throat was involved in this latest loud gasp, and she balled her hands and held them to her mouth as she watched Damon’s come spill out and mix in with the water. He made sounds she had never heard before. He shuddered and growled; his face intense as he rode his orgasm, his hand jerking his cock. Once spent, he leaned against the tiled wall and caught his breath.
Mouth agape, Bonnie quickly shoved the crystal ball beneath her covers. She threw a guilty look at her door, afraid that she might have been loud enough for her father to hear. When she stood in her own shower stall later on, she took extra care to wash her body and only wash her body. After all, it was only utter shock that kept her from wiping away the image of Damon in his private moment.
As Damon slowly stroked himself, smearing his pre-come along his member, Bonnie stood and let her hair fall from its messy ponytail. It was still a bit damp. Practice at Tikki’s house had run late. She shook out her now wavy hair and proceeded to undress. After taking off her bra, she waved her hand over the globe while whispering a couple of words, and the image moved to Damon’s pelvis and slowly travelled up to his torso while she took off her bottoms. Anticipation burned in Bonnie’s stomach.
Watching Damon masturbate was like watching him make love to himself. He took his time. He caressed his cock, and she has wondered more than once if that is how he was with women. Was he generous or, going in line with what she thought of him, selfish? When she had masturbated after seeing him that first time, she had tried to think of anything but the image that was seared into her brain. The first time she had masturbated while watching him, she had tried not to think about what it said about her.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she carried to crystal to her bed like a prized trophy, her eyes never leaving her private show. The wet sound of flesh against flesh as Damon picked up the pace again had her squeezing her own wet thighs. She smiled and shuddered as she watched. She loved to watch him doing this. She had realized it the first time she crossed paths with him since she’d developed her shameful secret. Only while watching him be cocky, sarcastic, obnoxious, and a complete know-it-all, she had not felt that ashamed. He had been in the middle of an argument with Stefan and Elena about why his way was better, and she had retreated inside her head to think over this new realization. Since she had been sporting her customary frown of ‘I Do Not Want to Be Mixed Up in This,’ no one thought there was anything out of the ordinary. When he had addressed her directly, she had been speechless. In that moment, she had gotten the most embarrassing urge to look down at what she knew he wielded in his pants.
She placed the ball between her legs and supported herself on an elbow. She touched her breasts as Damon’s breathing became shallow. That first encounter had left her bolder. She had not worried about getting caught in a long time. She lay down, closed her eyes, and explored her body. Her hands framed her pelvis before continuing to her thighs. She undulated her hips while her arousal leaked out of her. She moved her hips to the rhythm of his breaths as she wondered not for the first time what he thought of when he jacked off. What kept him hard as he teased himself by prolonging his orgasm?
Her fingers ghosted along her skin leaving goose bumps in their trail. She heard the change in Damon’s breathing pattern. He had slowed down again. She moaned as she pictured him with her mind’s eye: hard, lean angles; sinewy legs; fingers both firm and yielding. She had gotten off many times while fantasizing about sucking on his thumb. She slowly spread her pussy lips apart, enjoying the sensation of the folds separating, pulling from the pre-come that matted them to her skin. She squeezed her hooded clit and started rubbing it in a circle.
“Mmm.” She dipped her hand down to her opening and let the fluid from her desire gather there. She then spread it on her nipples. She twisted the hard peaks, arching her back in wanton pleasure. She squeezed her breasts and juggled them, alternately squeezing her chocolate nipples. She lifted her legs and ran her hands along the back of her thighs. Damon had taught her to take her time.
She sat up when she heard quick movement. He had started jacking off with fervor, and she knew he was going to the summit this time. Her pillows were already prepared. She placed them and then slid down on the bed. She positioned herself on her elbow again and slipped a digit into her pussy. “Shit,” she murmured as she slipped in a second finger. She fingered herself in tempo with him. She had timed her orgasm to his many times. Other times she came first and then watched him as she came down from the apex, and other times still she let him come first and then brought herself off while watching him rub his still engorged cock with come all over his thigh.
“Fuck,” he cursed and she responded with, “oh yes,” as she gratuitously lifted her right leg. A wet slopping sound flooded the room as she picked up her rhythm. He soon followed and they were in sync again. She smiled greedily as she watched him growl. She hoped he did it. It was always a silent wish since the first time he had done it.
“Fuck yeeeessss, fuck,” he spat gutturally as his hand repeatedly swallowed the head of his dick.
“Oh God, come on, please,” she breathed. She never said his name. Her clit burned as it peeked from its hood. She stopped her ministrations just long enough to rest her shoulders on the pillows. She resumed her play, this time rubbing her clit with her other hand. Her eyes never left him. Her legs started to tremble and her pussy started to flex around her fingers. He let out an expletive as he molded his flesh. He finally budged from his spot, his other hand fisting his sheets. He hunkered down on himself, his shoulders hunched, his face hidden from her.
“Oooo,” she said brokenly. She unceremoniously moved her legs about the bed as her orgasm became within reach. She rubbed her clit mercilessly as her fingers flew in and out of her. She bent her legs and buried her toes on the bed, and then it happened. Damon came, ‘fuck’ on his lips. He threw his head up, fangs bared, eyes black and vein-y, and Bonnie lost it. Her head thrashed against the pillows as an intense orgasm ripped through her. Her scream was animalistic as her fingers lost coordination and rhythm. Her come gushed out of her, squirting past her hand and on the bed. “OH. Oh, oh.” She folded into the fetal position as she heard him growl, her hands locked between her legs as she desperately tried to get much needed air into her lungs.
///
Damon flicked his thumb over the bulbous head of his cock and wondered if she was still looking. He had barely remembered not to shout her name. As it was, he now struggled not to tell her goodnight. If she was just now coming, acknowledging her might put a right end to that. He didn’t stop the chuckle. He moved over to a less wet spot on the bed and then lay down, spreading himself out for her to see. He closed his eyes with a smile on his face. His newly spent cock twitched, giving signs of life as he thought of her watching him get off. Of her getting off while watching him get off. That was his favorite part; his favorite fantasy; what had been making him come for the past 4 months.
It had been two months into Bonnie’s new hobby when he had figured it out. For a while he had felt the distinct sensation of being watched. His first suspect had naturally been Katherine. The bitch had eyes everywhere. He had brought it to Stefan’s attention, and they’d scoured the perimeter of the mansion. Nothing, but they had kept up their guard. Then, he had realized that he only felt like he was being watched during certain times. Namely when he was masturbating. What the hell would spying on him while he masturbated get Katherine? Nevertheless, he had searched the perimeter of the mansion in his birthday suit. Still nothing. He had known he was being watched. If there wasn’t a person physically standing outside of his house watching him, then they had to be doing it through other means. He had started to think outside of the box and came to the only conclusion: magic. Katherine was using magic to spy on him. Why the fuck, he didn’t know. Magic and that little murderous witch went hand in hand, so he had decided to bring his suspicions to her.
He waited against her car in the parking lot of the school all day in order to tell her his theory. He had been so caught up in his thoughts about what Katherine could be up to, since she had declared that it was Stefan she loved so why the fuck was she looking at him, that he didn’t hear the final bell ring. He snapped back to his surroundings when he heard some teenager yell something or other. He crossed his arms as he looked for the witch. He saw her hurry down the front steps with Elena before she continued to gossip or whatever it was she and Elena talked about. He was at once glad and disappointed that Elena was there. The witch would be more cooperative, but…the witch would be more cooperative. He was sure that that was the last thing she wanted to be with him after she had irrationally set him on fire two months ago. As he watched her gather her hair on top of her head only to let it fall again, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. Didn’t Stefan say she’d acquired a crystal ball? His brother had said that might help them in their fight against Katherine, and he’d responded with an unenthusiastic, “great,” and his ever-suffering younger brother had walked away. He frowned as his mind refused to draw the conclusion. Now he considered himself the mentally, and physically, quicker of the Salvatores, but the witch spying on him while he jacked off?! His eyes widened as the thought took hold. He slowly straightened as he watched her laugh conservatively with her arms crossed. He backed away, mouth agape, hitting the back of his leg against the car as she shook her head in amusement at something Elena had said.
He couldn’t have faced her then. His new thought wouldn’t leave him alone. He had needed to go back and think about it. And the more he had thought about it; the more he had believed it was her. And he had seen red.
He burned a trail on the expensive rug as he paced back and forth. Each time he would slow down, a picture of the witch watching him on her magic ball would pop in his mind, and he would get going again. His blood was hot, and he’d broken three glasses against the wall. If Stefan knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t come home any time soon, because he wanted a fight. That fucking witch was getting mighty comfortable. First she sets him on fire and now she’s playing voyeur? What is he a puppet? Yeah, that’s exactly what she thought he was. He spun on his heel when he got to the end of the room and headed the way he just came. Like Katherine. He was there for her amusement. He went to the wet bar, poured a scotch, downed it, and slammed glass against glass, cracking the bar. His fangs were itching to come out. He was going to go to her house, no; he’d wait for her at the school again. He was going to grab her by the shoulders, and he was going to sink his fucking teeth into her. He was going to drink to his heart’s content, and just when she was close to death, he would feed her his blood and bring her back. Fucking watch her deal with that. No. He resumed pacing. He rolled his head as he walked. He’d get in her head while she slept and paralyze her with nightmare after nightmare. She wouldn’t be able to step out of her house when he was done with her. Fuck it he could do both, and he wasn’t going to wait another day.
He had stormed out of the mansion, slamming the door behind him. He hadn’t bothered turning into a crow, he had ran to her house.
He would trap her before she went inside. He would show her who was still the most fucking powerful between her and him. He hid, barely, around the corner of her house. As soon as she stepped in front of the door, he would snatch her away. Maybe he would take her to that same spot in the words where he’d bitten her the first time, for maximum effect. His head swam with the images of how he was going to torture her. She was going to cower in front of him again if it was the last fucking thing he did. He crouched and waited. It was getting late which was perfect. As he waited, in between fantasizing about how he was going to make her tremble before him, he tried to figure out where her sudden interest in voyeurism had come from. He would have never thought her a sadistic, perverted one. And why did she keep looking in on him?
He heard a car door shut, and he peaked around the corner. It was her. He stealthily stood up as she pulled her backpack from the front seat. She strapped it to her back, and shut the door. Her face was relaxed for once. She walked up to the house, and he could not imagine her sporting that same privileged, faux coy smirk that was permanently attached to Katherine’s face. The witch always meant what she did. She had meant to kill him. So was she now watching him because she…liked it?
He tried to merge his knowledge of the witch who was so righteous that she’d kill him with his knowledge of the witch who apparently liked to watch him get off. He let her go inside her house. He needed to think on this more. He leaned against the wall. He knew she was a puzzling little thing, but this might be too much for him to wrap his mind around. The uptight, moral, sanctimonious, judgey little witch, the crusader for the innocent people of Mystic Falls, the one with a list of rights and wrongs…liked to watch him masturbate. And then the thought that she might be getting off while watching occurred to him, and his mind was blown.
That thought was now his favorite fantasy. His little witch lording over him, watching the small world that consisted of only him; liking what she saw so much that she came because of it; her looking forward to and anticipating him taking his clothes off.
And she would still take him out if he stepped out of line again. It excited him as much as it pissed him off.
///
It was the next week, and Bonnie waved goodbye to Elena and Caroline and then made her way to her porch. It was the first time she had partied in months, at Caroline’s insistence of course. She was a little tipsy, she felt great, and if she was lucky Damon would get naked tonight. She giggled as she ran up the steps, her stiletto boots clacking against the cement. She was digging through her small purse and had found her keys when she heard the voice.
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Bonnie froze as her stomach dropped and the hair on her arms stood on end. Oh God.
“I bet good ‘ole Lord Acton knew nothing of true power to have come up with some lame shit like that.”
She turned as he walked from the shadows and into the light. He knew. It was so obvious that he knew.
“Am I right?” he asked slowly as he stood in front of her.
She flattened her back against the door though her chest still stood out proudly. “What are you doing here?” she asked, voice composed.
“I’m not here to answer any questions. I’ve been performing for you looonnnggg enough.” He lifted his hand and placed it on the door behind her, cornering her.
Bonnie’s throat dried up, and it hurt to swallow. She opened her mouth, but, unbelievably, only a squeak came out.
Damon smiled like the Cheshire cat as he leaned down. “Considering they’re all you can focus on, you should know my faults better than anyone, Bonnie. I don’t do things without expecting anything in return.” He leaned away from her and cocked his head, blatantly checking her out. Her pale pink coat fit to her body; her black skinny jeans clung to her legs, but it was what she wore on her feet that captured his attention. They were black, they were peep-toed, and they were laced up. His mind immediately had her in only those boots and her underwear.
She cleared her throat. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said looking every bit sorry.
“I didn’t come here for an apology,” he said, getting close to her again.
“I know that too,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed on her.
A small frown line appeared on Bonnie’s brow, and she said, “I…I don’t want to sleep with you, Damon. I really don’t. I just…want to…watch,” she whispered with a small shake of her head. Her heart was racing in her chest, and her palms were sweating in her gloves. How could she have ever believed that she wouldn’t get caught? It had just been so easy. So private. She didn’t know how he knew; how it ever even occurred to him. But she was busted. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll stop, I swear.”
And she gave him her back, opened her door, and shut it with one last apologetic look.
Damon was as still as a statue. His cheekbones jutted out as his teeth pushed against each other. He walked away from the house, across the street, and found the spot in the shadows that gave him a clear view of her room. He saw her come to her window and look out. She closed her curtains. She knew he was there. He didn’t think she’d find being watched as arousing as he did. He didn’t think so.
All the same. He watched.