Day 5 of Holiday Fic Extravaganza!: for dante_kent
Title: Rightfully Mine
Author: lit_chick08
Pairings: Damon/Katherine/Stefan (Damon/Elena/Stefan undertones)
Rating: R for sexy times
Spoilers: Goes AU after 2x20 “The Last Day”
Word Count: 676
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: This is the opportunity Katherine has been waiting for.
A/N: written for the great dante_kent who prompted: You've gone too far this time, you have neither reason nor rhyme with which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine.
Elena Gilbert dies on a Wednesday, and Katherine Pierce turns up on a Thursday.
Damon punches her.
Stefan fucks her.
Neither love her, not anymore.
But, for the first time, Katherine stays.
* * *
She wears this loose-fitting, jersey shirt in the kitchen one night, her long legs bare, dark curls tumbling down her back, the swell of her breasts pushing up against the material enticingly. Damon watches her for a few moments, remembers the morning he laid Elena back against the counter and went down on her until she screamed, and suddenly Damon hates Katherine Pierce more than he ever has for wearing Elena's face.
Katherine snorts when he tells her this. “It was my face first, remember?”
Damon grasps her by the hair, jerking her head back; she could toss him across the room with minimal effort, but she doesn't, just looks at him, waiting. “Be her,” he orders. When Katherine smirks, his grip tightens and he growls the order again, jerking her hair painfully.
Katherine's face melts into Elena's, eyes softening, mouth more generous. Even her voice is different as she sighs, “Damon...”
He bends her over the kitchen table, thrusts into her with the kind of force which would have hurt the girl he can't even pretend this woman is. The moment he comes, he pulls out, Katherine whining at being left wanting, and she snaps, “This how you treated Elena?”
Damon does not even glance backwards as he walks away. “You're not Elena.”
* * *
She climbs into his bed blissfully nude, all lithe limbs and soft curves, her body moving as fluidly as water. Her skin is warm against the cool sheets, against his own cool skin, and Stefan tells himself he doesn't want this, doesn't want her, but he reaches for her anyway, squeezes her hips as she rises and falls above him. The large curls he used to love to bury his fingers cover her breasts, twists of her torso revealing brief glimpses of the darker skin of her nipple, and she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
Except she is just as beautiful as the one who came after her, just as beautiful as the one who came before her. Katherina Petrova or Katherine Pierce, the vampire riding his cock is just another doppelganger whose death was caused by Klaus.
Katherine opens her mouth in a silent cry as her pleasure peaks, and Stefan closes his eyes, wishing he was hearing the startled gasps and breathy words of a girl for who sex was still new, still exciting, still mysterious.
He bites his lip to stay silent; he doesn't praise her beauty, doesn't tell her he loves her, doesn't do anything other than lie still beneath her as she curls up on his chest.
“You're thinking about her, aren't you?” she accuses without lifting her head, voice thick with rancor.
“Always,” he calmly replies.
* * *
She cannot compete with a dead girl, and, even if she could, Katherine Pierce competes with no one.
For 145 years, all she has wanted is to have the Salvatore brothers to herself, but this is wrong, twisted, and it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. This is not who she is, and she will not allow them to turn her into someone so pathetic.
Damon does not acknowledge her good-bye.
Stefan looks at her for a stretch of time before nodding.
In a hundred years, Katherine decides as she leaves Mystic Falls, she will try again.
Author: lit_chick08
Pairings: Damon/Katherine/Stefan (Damon/Elena/Stefan undertones)
Rating: R for sexy times
Spoilers: Goes AU after 2x20 “The Last Day”
Word Count: 676
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: This is the opportunity Katherine has been waiting for.
A/N: written for the great dante_kent who prompted: You've gone too far this time, you have neither reason nor rhyme with which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine.
Elena Gilbert dies on a Wednesday, and Katherine Pierce turns up on a Thursday.
Damon punches her.
Stefan fucks her.
Neither love her, not anymore.
But, for the first time, Katherine stays.
* * *
She wears this loose-fitting, jersey shirt in the kitchen one night, her long legs bare, dark curls tumbling down her back, the swell of her breasts pushing up against the material enticingly. Damon watches her for a few moments, remembers the morning he laid Elena back against the counter and went down on her until she screamed, and suddenly Damon hates Katherine Pierce more than he ever has for wearing Elena's face.
Katherine snorts when he tells her this. “It was my face first, remember?”
Damon grasps her by the hair, jerking her head back; she could toss him across the room with minimal effort, but she doesn't, just looks at him, waiting. “Be her,” he orders. When Katherine smirks, his grip tightens and he growls the order again, jerking her hair painfully.
Katherine's face melts into Elena's, eyes softening, mouth more generous. Even her voice is different as she sighs, “Damon...”
He bends her over the kitchen table, thrusts into her with the kind of force which would have hurt the girl he can't even pretend this woman is. The moment he comes, he pulls out, Katherine whining at being left wanting, and she snaps, “This how you treated Elena?”
Damon does not even glance backwards as he walks away. “You're not Elena.”
* * *
She climbs into his bed blissfully nude, all lithe limbs and soft curves, her body moving as fluidly as water. Her skin is warm against the cool sheets, against his own cool skin, and Stefan tells himself he doesn't want this, doesn't want her, but he reaches for her anyway, squeezes her hips as she rises and falls above him. The large curls he used to love to bury his fingers cover her breasts, twists of her torso revealing brief glimpses of the darker skin of her nipple, and she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
Except she is just as beautiful as the one who came after her, just as beautiful as the one who came before her. Katherina Petrova or Katherine Pierce, the vampire riding his cock is just another doppelganger whose death was caused by Klaus.
Katherine opens her mouth in a silent cry as her pleasure peaks, and Stefan closes his eyes, wishing he was hearing the startled gasps and breathy words of a girl for who sex was still new, still exciting, still mysterious.
He bites his lip to stay silent; he doesn't praise her beauty, doesn't tell her he loves her, doesn't do anything other than lie still beneath her as she curls up on his chest.
“You're thinking about her, aren't you?” she accuses without lifting her head, voice thick with rancor.
“Always,” he calmly replies.
* * *
She cannot compete with a dead girl, and, even if she could, Katherine Pierce competes with no one.
For 145 years, all she has wanted is to have the Salvatore brothers to herself, but this is wrong, twisted, and it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. This is not who she is, and she will not allow them to turn her into someone so pathetic.
Damon does not acknowledge her good-bye.
Stefan looks at her for a stretch of time before nodding.
In a hundred years, Katherine decides as she leaves Mystic Falls, she will try again.