Hi all, welcome back to my mind! Story takes place in the 1994 prison world. Damon and Bonnie have been there for about three months.

*Heads up, this gets a little lemony... a little not safe for work*

...

"So, Damon."

"So, Bon-Bon," he replied.

Bonnie rolled her eyes at Damon's nickname for her, but didn't acknowledge him. She found it easier to just ignore him. "Let's play 'What If'. You can start."

"I don't want to play 'What If'," Damon said from his prone position on the couch opposite from Bonnie.

They had finished their attempt at being productive and trying to trigger Bonnie's magic for the day. The two reluctant roommates were laying around the living room, waiting for motivation to strike.

"Well you ruined Monopoly and Battleship for me, and you're not allowed to ever play Truth or Dare again, so-"

"Says who?"

"Says me. Your dares are ridiculous and your truths make me wanna take a bleach bath, so no, we're not playing truth or dare."

"Why do we have to play anything? Can't we just sit here quietly, pretending we're not trapped with the most annoying person on the planet?"

"Oh I can do that just fine, the question is- can you?" Bonnie fired back

"Are you implying I can't sit here in silence?" Damon asked.

"I'm implying that you don't actually want to sit here in silence. So. What if-"

"No, don't act like I'm the one who can't stand the silence, that's you Bennett."

"Damon, puh-lease. You love the sound of your own voice so much you'd talk to yourself if you had to."

"Not true. I just know how much you love my voice and can't get enough of it, so I only talk to sooth your troubled soul. I'm chivalrous like that."

"Ha, don't do me any favors. I'll just sit here. Quietly."

And she did.

Damon sat quietly as well for about a minute before he got up to make a drink and then returned to his seat.

After his drink was gone, he reached over and snagged a book off the side table and began to read.

That lasted about five minutes.

And all the while Bonnie lay there on her couch.

She'd catch herself humming a tune and then quickly stop. She found herself playing with her fingernails but then crossed her arms and stuffed her hands under her armpits to stop. To prove she could sit there doing nothing.

It only took Damon half an hour before he broke, and picked the conversation back up like nothing ever happened.

"So, what if we never get back home?"

"We're going to get home," Bonnie rolled her eyes, "Try something less melodramatic, like What if the sky was green and the grass was blue?"

"I think we'd have some very confused birds," Damon quipped. "What if you never get your magic back?"

"I will get my magic back," Bonnie answered matter of factly. She was used to his negativity now after 3 months alone together; she could navigate his moods like a pro.

"What if bourbon tasted like cotton candy?"

"Blasphemer! How dare you?" Damon shook his head at her and whispered, "She didn't mean it," into his glass. "What if… You actually asked a good question."

"Ok, fine." Bonnie had had a certain thought lingering in the back of her mind for a while now. It all started with a dream she'd had after Damon gave her one of his backwards compliments under his breath: 'Goddammit, Judgy how is it possible you can manage to make flannel look sexy? If I wasn't happily taken…'

He never really finished that sentence, but the heat in his eyes coupled with the way he abandoned her to have breakfast alone, the implication was there and Bonnie couldn't shake it no matter how hard she tried.

"What if…" she hesitated. She didn't know how exactly to phrase her hypothetical question.

Because that's all it was, right? A hypothetical question?

Bonnie took a deep breath and asked…

"What if you-" pause, "-dyed your hair blonde?"

She choked. Totally chickened out. But at least it made him laugh. She was afraid her real question would've upset him.

"First of all, I can rock any look. Second, there may have been a very brief period in the late 90s where I frosted my tips, and yes it looked fantastic and no there isn't any photographic evidence. But-" he paused to sip his drink, "that's not what you really wanted to ask, is it."

Dammit, she was caught.

"You want to know something, just ask, Bon."

"It's stupid."

"What is?"

"Nothing, nevermind."

"You wanted to play this stupid game."

"Well. It's your turn to ask, so go."

"What if you said what was actually on your mind?"

"Ugh, I don't wanna play anymore."

"Oh my god, Judgy just ask the damn question!"

"No!"

Damon sighed and tried not to let the witch make him crazy. He took a page out of her own playbook and sat quietly for a few minutes to allow them both to cool down.

And after a few moments when Bonnie was sure that Damon wasn't paying attention to her anymore she asked her 'what if'.

Very quietly, as if she was merely speaking aloud to herself, she asked "What would you do if I asked you to… help me?"

Damon heard her heartbeat pick up. "Help you do what?"

"You know...like," Bonnie wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully and shrugged her shoulders but couldn't actually bring herself to meet her roommates eyes.

Damon was struggling to understand her question. He looked over at the witch and noticed her foot jiggling and the way she was gripping her arms as they crossed her chest. Her gaze was stubbornly fixed on the ceiling like the answers to a test were written there.

"I'm sorry, what exactly are we talking about right now?"

Well, Bonnie, you're here now, she thought. She may as well go for it.

"What if… I were to, like, proposition you?" There. That was clear, right? And relatively painless.

Damon's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his eyes almost bugged out of his head.

"For what, for sex?!" he squeaked as he sat straight up.

So much for painless, Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"No, for a part in a play- Yes, Damon for… that."

Damon was stunned. That hadn't been what he was expecting from the uptight witch. No, not at all. He could admit that it had crossed his mind a few times over the course of their exile, but he always banished those thoughts away before they got him in trouble.

Now, here she was, not quite propositioning him, but was she trying to gage his willingness? Was she willing? Was he? What the fuck Bonnie?!

"Um, I mean," Damon tried to come up with something before she shut down again. If nothing else he wanted to know if she really wanted to or was this just another hypothetical, just part of the game. "I guess it would depend."

"On what?"

"On how you propositioned me."

"How?"

"Yeah. How would you do it?"

"Seriously?" Bonnie finally took her eyes off the high ceiling and looked over at him, and Damon grinned at her.

"Hey, it's your game- I'm just playing along. How would you proposition me?" he asked as he draped one arm over the back of the couch and kicked his long legs out, getting comfortable.

Bonnie wasn't sure if that was an invitation to actually do it, to proposition him or whatever, and she wasn't even sure she was ready for that. It was just a stupid question!

One she already had an answer to, though.

Because this was the dream she'd started having a couple weeks ago. Maybe the dream was some kind of premonition of this moment..

Bonnie turned her head back to focus on a spot above her as she began to describe her dream.

"Well. I would come downstairs. After a long day of fruitless research and training, as usual. And-"

"So, wait," Damon interrupted, "Is it right after we finish training, or like later?"

Bonnie shot him a look.

"Just trying to get a feel for timing. Go on."

"It's after dinner. Let's say I've just gotten out the shower, you're sitting shirtless as you do-"

"I don't like wearing clothes, sue me."

"-by a ridiculous fire even though it's still 80 degrees outside."

"It's comforting!" Damon argued reflexively. This was a fight they've already had several times.

"Anyway, you're sitting down here, in your chair, by your fire, sipping your bourbon and reading, and I come up and ask if I can talk to you for a second. And you, of course, say something rude like-"

"Like we don't already talk enough, Judgy." Damon supplied.

Bonnie fought a small smile at him, pleased that he was playing along with her little game.

"Exactly. But I pull the book from your hands and tell you it'll only take a minute."

Bonnie closed her eyes, she could practically see the scene unfolding as she spoke, could feel the heat rising between them even though he was still sitting across the room from her.

"Pause," Damon interrupted again. "What are you wearing?"

Bonnie blushed again.

In her dreams she's always wearing this silk nightie, but she doesn't own anything like that here and that's way too embarrassing, so she edits "Um, uh. I'm wearing pajamas? My sleepshirt?"

"The yellow one with Tweety Bird on it?" he clarified.

Bonnie was surprised he remembered what she slept in. "Is that okay? Or should I have worn something else?" she teased with a bit of nervous sarcasm.

"No, you look good in Tweety," he told her casually before kicking his feet up and leaning back, resting his head against the arm of the couch. "Go on."

Bonnie blinked and swallowed. Did Damon really just compliment her? Was that real?

"Um, where was I?" she asked, flustered.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Right." Bonnie shook her head, trying to get back into storytelling mode. "So, I tell you it won't take long, I promise, and you say-"

"Ha! I've heard that before," Damon answered.

"And then I say, 'I just wanted to ask you a question…'"

"Ask away."

"Well, What if-?"

"Really?"

"Shut up Damon!" Bonnie exclaimed with a laugh. Even she had to admit she sounded ridiculous, going around in circles but he was going right along with her. "I would say- What if you weren't...happily taken?" her question croaked out on a broken whisper that she knew he heard loud and clear, even from across the room.

And suddenly, Damon could see the whole scene Bonnie described quite clearly.

Up to that point he was trying to understand where Bonnie was coming from with all this and now he could see it. He could perfectly envision her short hair still damp from her shower, her legs glowing in the light of the fire, her eyes shy and dancing back and forth to his as she nibbled the skin around her thumbnail like she does when she's anxious.

She's for real, standing there in front of him in her oversized Tweety Bird t-shirt down to her knees and nothing else, she wants to know exactly what he meant by that slick comment he made the other day.

She'd been looking altogether too edible in the flannel shirt she was wearing with the ends tied up exposing her flat belly and the top buttons undone showing off cleavage he'd never thought to really check out before back in the real world.

He'd had a rough night, was horny as hell and then here she came looking and smelling delicious- he'd snapped! And then he quickly got lost to go handle the product of his ogling.

'If I wasn't happily taken…' he had told her.

His mind flashed to all the filthy things he had thought about doing to Bonnie in that kitchen, thoughts he has tried to nip in the bud but somehow kept creeping back up late at night when he was trying to think of big doe brown eyes and creamy skin instead of green orbs and cafe au lait thighs.

Thighs that looked so damn silky every time he saw them…

Well, Damon, what would you do? If you weren't happily taken by a woman you left behind in another world, a world that you may not ever return to?

He knew exactly what he would do…

He cleared his throat and glanced over to where Bonnie lay, patiently waiting for a response. Her heartbeat was thumping out of control, as if she were really standing before him and putting herself out there.

He could sense that they had left the game behind, but even so he had always prided himself on his brutal honesty during those games. He held nothing back. Had no shame about anything. Part of the fun was seeing how far he had to go to make Bonnie squirm and then ban him from ever talking about that subject again.

Now, he was conflicted. He knew she wanted the truth, that's why she setup the game that way. But what if (ha) he went too far and she never brought it up again? Or what if he went too far and things went from just hypothetical to physical? And which one did he want?

He could feel the tension coming off of her in waves in the few moments it took him to formulate his answer. She was fidgeting now under the pressure of the mess she'd started. But Damon could never, ever, let her off so easy.

"Well, I would tell you that if I were not happily taken by the woman I am in love with, I would be free to take your hand… and pull you closer. Till you're standing between my legs and I can look up at you. And tell you that... I would do anything you wanted me to."

Bonnie's heart was crashing around in her chest making it hard to breathe.

Shit, that was hot, she thought.

She had begun thinking he would never answer and that he must be thinking of a way to let her down gently, but that was the opposite of a let down.

The way his voice dipped lower, nearly growling at her made her clit jump and her thighs snap together. She resisted the urge to rub her already aching nipples.

She envisioned herself right back in that dream, the fantasy she replayed over and over in her mind. She continued.

"And I would say… I just want you to help me feel good," she sighed. "Remind me I'm alive."

Damon heard the edge of pain in her voice and wanted to reach out to her. That pain was a mirror image of his own and thus far he had no idea how to get rid of it. Liquor and picking fights with the only person he could were his only options and now he realized Bonnie was dealing with the same pain and anger, she was just dealing with it better.

Or so he'd thought.

She continued, interrupting his thought process, "And I would lean in, place my hand on your shoulder and say, real close to your ear…'Would you? Would you help me, Damon?'"

Her voice whispered across the room to him, but he felt it ghost across his neck like she was really standing next to him. It sent a wake up call straight to his cock, and he looked down to see his member moving in his pants.

Damon had already decided he wouldn't quit first so he answered her question.

"And I set my glass down on the table-"

"-I drop the book I'm still holding," Bonnie inserts.

"And I'd look up into those, unbelievable green eyes of yours as I slide my hands up the back of your knees."

"My hands run up your arms, grip your shoulders, to steady me as I climb into your lap…"

"I pull you closer, tug on the collar of your Tweety shirt and"

"You'd kiss my neck, my collarbone. While my hands push through your hair, scratch your scalp, your back until you-"

"Kiss my way to your lips, I'd try to resist and fail."

"And I'd kiss you."

"I'd kiss you back, tasting your lips. And my hands-"

"-all over my body, under my shirt-"

"Getting rid of your shirt," he corrected.

"Pulling my shirt off, and holding me tighter-"

"Kissing your chest, licking and sucking on your nipples,"

"God, yes," Bonnie murmured, her fingers pinching her own tight nipples.

Damon paused, at the sound of Bonnie's sigh and chanced a glance at her for the first time since she started her little game and the sight of her working her hands around her own breasts turned him on even further, his hand reflexively rubbing his dick through his jeans.

He watched her for a moment, marveling at the picture she made before continuing,"My hands slide to your ass, squeezing, grinding you down on to..me." He edited himself; he wanted to say 'down onto his rock hard dick' but didn't want to be too bold all of a sudden.

Bonnie, however, heard the stutter in his voice and blinked her eyes open at him, catching his gaze as she continued rubbing her nipples. She watched as he did the same to his dick, slowly massaging himself.

"Are you hard yet?" she asked.

Damon wasn't sure if she was still talking in "what if?" context, but he answered honestly, "I've been hard since I first saw you in Tweety. I grind you down on my dick, nothing between us but two layers, your panties, my sweats-"

"What makes you think I'm wearing panties?" Bonnie smirked.

"Oh woman," he sighed.

"I take your hand, guide it exactly where I need it"

"Where's that?" He asked, wanting to hear her say it.

"Between my legs, your finger slides right up in my pussy; it's so wet"

Damon watches Bonnie as her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her jean shorts. His vamp ears perked all the way up and listened and when he heard that telltale gush of Bonnie fingering herself, he had to force himself not to move from that couch and go to her, replace her hands with his.

"So wet," he repeated, dragging his eyes back up to hers.

When she finally caught his eyes again, she deliberately spread her legs wider, splayed out on the couch, "You slide another finger in,"

"Two," he barks.

"Unh, two fingers," she adds two of her own.

"Nice and slow," he directs and she slows her ministrations slightly, her eyes drift shut again, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"I work my fingers in and out, as you ride my hand, begging for more," he guides her

"Don't stop," she begs

"I speed up"

Her back arches off the couch, as her fingers pump into herself with one hand, while the other tweaks her nipples under her tank top.

She watches Damon now as he pops the button on his jeans and pushes his hand in to grasp his cock following her lead.

"More," she moans, and Damon's hand pistons harder as Bonnie's writhing on the couch, the scent of her arousal filling the room. "Unh, Damon," she whispers.

"Come on, Bonnie," the way his voice caresses her name, "Cum for me Bonnie," he encourages her

"I'm so close, Damon, don't stop…" she keeps her eyes on him.

"Keep going, Bonnie," Damon growls, he's so hard, he knows he's seconds away from blowing his load but he wants, no he needs to watch her cum first, "Harder Bonnie, fuck me"

"I am I am oh god, yes yes yes unnnnhhhhh fuck," her eyes rolled back and her thighs clenched around her hand and her whole body shook into silence.

Damon quickly finished, his nut busting all over his stomach, watching Bonnie's O-face as she rode the wave of her self empowered orgasm.

Each of them were breathing heavy and slow to return to their senses as the gravity of what they'd done settled over the room like the musk that filled the air.

Bonnie's eyes fluttered open and landed on the ceiling, her smile slipping away, as she slowly slid her fingers from her gushing pussy, wiping them on the inside of her shorts.

She glanced over at Damon and smiled at catching him in the middle of cleaning himself up as well. At least she hadn't been alone, he was just as turned on by that as she was.

Neither of them knew what to say at that point, even Damon couldn't come up with something quippy or snarky as he watched her climb to her feet.

There were so many things she could say or do at that moment, and she dithered for a second, contemplating.

Damon propped up on his elbow and waited- Would she regret it? Tell him to never mention this again and pretend it never happened? Or would she invite him upstairs to finish what they started… she looked like she was leaning towards the latter…

When she finally spoke it was soft and shy again, a simple "Goodnight, Damon" before she turned and made her way to the stairs.

Damon collapsed back on the couch and closed his eyes. What the hell was that??!

Bonnie stopped at the bottom of the steps and Damon stopped breathing-

"What if that happened for real?" she sighed to herself.

Damon's eyes blinked open

...

A/N: Hey yall. Back again. Had this little diddy sitting in my folder and couldn't help finishing it. Tell me what you think. There is another chapter, it will be up soon..