AUTHOR'S NOTE: This just happened to be the way Damon and Katherine's long awaited reunion played out in my head - hot dirty sex aside, this is ultimately a Delena story. Be patient, we'll get there.

The first words Damon Salvatore spoke to the woman he'd once loved - and would now love to loathe - were deceptively cool. Because damned if she didn't still make his blood run hot.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Miss Pierce?"

Katherine's stunning face fell. Her lower lip jutted out into a sexy little pout. "Well it's nice to see you, too, Damon."

"Spare me the theatrics, Katherine. We both know you wouldn't be here if you didn't want something."

"This place is lacking a certain ambiance," she said, abandoning the pretense of hurt feelings with a shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes roamed the shitty little space comprising Damon's temporary residence - a motel room just outside the town of Mystic Falls, Virginia.

"It's called staying off the radar," Damon answered, forcing a mild, disinterested tone. The seedy motel ran more to those looking to rent a room by the hour, but he wasn't all the picky. The place suited his purposes, and in his long, illustrious life, he'd experienced worse. After all, what was a month or so in a crap motel room when you had eternity?

"Can I come in?" Katherine asked, offering her dazzling smile.

"Not like you need an invitation."

"I was being polite," she countered, and he could see in her eyes how much she was loving this long overdue confrontation. And that his attempts to appear distant were entirely transparent to those sharp eyes.

Deciding he might as well get this - whatever this was - over with, Damon gave a mocking little bow and waved her into the room. "If it means you'll leave faster, by all means, join me."

She grinned. "Once upon a time you would've been begging me to come in the moment you saw me in the doorway. You've grown claws, Damon. I like it."

"Fangs, actually. Courtesy of... damn, I can't seem to remember. Maybe you do?"

She strolled into the room, undeterred by his obvious irritation. She wore jeans that had to be part spandex, given the way they hugged her sinful legs like a second skin. Spiked heels added several inches to her lithe frame, which somehow managed to be both curvy and slender. Her body, and the devastating way she used it, screamed sex. Every inch of her was confident and beautiful and sensual; Damon should know, having explored it so many times in the past. Every luscious dip and curve was forever burned into his memory. If he let himself, he could feel her skin burning beneath his fingertips, hear her breath catch when he touched her, taste her soft, generous mouth.

He was trying his hardest not to let himself, but damned if she wasn't making it hard. If she wasn't making him hard. He moved with his own innate grace to take a seat on the creaky motel chair beside the creakier motel table. She had enough ammunition without seeing the obvious evidence of her effect on him.

But she did anyway - she'd always been too clever for her own good, or anyone else's, for that matter. One perfect brow rose as a smile tugged at her lips.

"Looks like part of you is happy to see me." The smug comment made Damon grind his teeth.

"Fuck, Katherine. You made me a vampire, not a eunuch."

"Oh, I could never deprive the female population like that. Why so bitter, Damon? Need I remind you that I gave you precisely what you wanted so desperately?"

"I wanted you," he snapped, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Apparently, you still do," she said, smug as all hell.

"Bravo, Katherine - you can give a guy a hard-on. You can also give a guy a bitch of a headache. What do you want?"

"First things first," she answered, examining the bedspread critically. It looked clean enough, and it wasn't like she was susceptible to germs. Besides, she liked the idea of lounging on his bed, liked the idea of reminding him of the days when they'd shared one. She sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off her heels, and sat back, propping herself up on her elbows. "I get that you're a little pissed, but bygones are bygones and all that. Like I said, I gave you what you were after. Are you honestly gonna tell me you regret it?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, hard, trying to keep the blood in his brain when it wanted to flood south to his cock. "I regret believing for a single second that you'd stick around. Hell, I regret believing a damn thing you've ever said to me. But the vampire thing? That's grown on me." He could match her sexy smirk for sexy smirk, and his eyes smoldered as he ran them over her. "I like being an eternal stud."

"So really, you should be thanking me," she said, just to piss him off.

"Not in this lifetime or any other," he shot back, his smirk vanishing. "You abandoned me to feed or die. Worse, you abandoned me to feed or die with only my little brother for company. Things got dicey for you, this black hole of a town decided to burn out the vampire plague, and you left Stefan and I totally fucking helpless. We died trying to save you. That much I regret. At least if you'd died I could've enjoyed burning in hell right alongside you."

"Oh, don't be dramatic. The Damon I remember would've gone straight to the pearly gates. You were too good. You're much more interesting now." She gave an eloquent little shrug. "One more thing you really should be thanking me for. But if you want to hold a grudge, fine. It was self preservation, darling. Better you - better anyone - die than I. Don't take it so personally."

Something flared in Damon's eyes, something hot and dark, and lust pooled low in Katherine's belly. Business first, or pleasure? She'd play it by ear.

"Look, Damon, I knew Stefan would take care of you. And as far as I've heard it, you're the one who left him. Who knew the younger Salvatore would be so vicious as a vampire? And you just left him to blaze that trail of death and destruction. I wonder how many people died because you didn't care enough to save Stefan from himself."

Damon scoffed. His mask of disinterest was no longer a mask - it was entirely genuine.

"And yet the human race lives on. Don't pretend to care about a few dead humans, Katherine. I don't, and I'm not half the monster you are. Humans are a dime - shit, a penny a dozen. We're predators, they're prey. Guilty consciences are a waste of time."

"You have endless time to waste," she pointed out, head cocked to the side as she surveyed him. Damn, Damon Salvatore was all grown up. And appealing as sin.

"I have endless time to do whatever the hell I want," he said easily. "That doesn't include mourning humans. Screwing them, killing them - screwing them, then killing them? Much more to my taste."

"And you've always had impeccable taste," she told him, grinning.

"Present company notwithstanding," he answered wryly.

Katherine rose in an easy, sinuous movement, crossing the room to stand in front of him. He could smell her spicy scent and hated her for it. Her eyes gleamed with power and sexuality. With Katherine, the two had always been so tangled up in each other they couldn't be separated. "You don't regret being turned, and you don't regret a single one of those nights we had together." Leaning in close, she smiled wickedly. "All those nights spent beside me..." She closed the distance between them to flick her tongue along the tender curve of his earlobe. "All those nights spent inside me..."

"The hell with this," Damon muttered, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her toward him so that she tumbled into his lap. His words were laced with threat when he spoke. "Careful, Miss Pierce. I'm not half the gentleman I used to be."

"Is that a promise?"

His mouth crushed down on hers in a violent clash of lips and tongues and teeth. He nipped her bottom lip once, twice, and the third time sank his teeth in hard enough to draw blood. She let out a purr of pure lust as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and tasted sex and blood.

Pleasure first, she decided, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and giving it a violent tug as she dragged him to the bed. The buttons of his shirt went flying and before he could process what was happening she had him on his back, straddling his hips and rocking hers against the impressive swell of his hard-on. He groaned, drowning in her. She was fierce and feral and fucking delicious - her potency hadn't dimmed a whit in over a century. If anything, Damon thought, she'd become even more intoxicating.

And then her hand slipped to his belt buckle, deftly undoing the fly of his jeans so she could slide her fingers beneath the denim and feel him, hard and thick and throbbing for her. His capacity for coherent thought disappeared in an instant and he groaned, eyes drifting shut as she freed him fully from his jeans and let her fingertips dance down the base of his cock before her hand closed around him. Impossibly, she felt him grow harder in her hand, and for a moment she forgot why she was there in the first place, forgot everything except Damon's body and the things he could do, had done, to hers.

"Off," he demanded roughly, and Katherine was snapped back into reality, hand freezing on his dick, mouth dropping open in surprise. He couldn't possibly be rejecting her.

He actually laughed, reading her expression. "Your clothes, Katherine. Take them off. There's no way you're walking out that door till I've fucked you brainless. Lose the pants."

Christ, this demanding, forceful Damon Salvatore was unbelievably hot. She stood over him on the bed, looking down into his eyes as her fingers went to undo her own jeans. She maintained eye contact as she peeled the denim down those glorious legs of hers, stepping out of the jeans and tossing them to the side.

His eyes were near black with desire. How had she forgotten just how hypnotizing those eyes were? She knew there'd been a reason she'd felt such an overwhelming urge to turn him. She hadn't planned on jumping ship - she'd planned on jumping him until she got bored of that mouth, those hands, that hard, sculpted body. Fate intervened and she'd left Mystic Falls in her proverbial rear view mirror, but she'd never forgotten Damon. Or his brother, for that matter.

But it was Damon she needed now. He was instrumental in everything that came next, and for that reason, she had to keep part of her brain firmly steeped in reality. There would be time for her to lose herself in him later. Now, she had a mission to accomplish.

When she stepped out of her jeans and threw them carelessly to the floor, Damon felt a stab of desire so intense it hurt. She hadn't bothered to wear underwear. The thought of her walking around like that, bare and ready beneath her clothes, was unbearably sexy.

She sank to her knees beside him, pressing kisses to his chest, and every one of his senses was wrapped up in her and blind to the rest of the world. When she moved lower, her tongue tracing the definition of his abs, his hand clenched the bedsheet. When her tongue skimmed lower and traced another body part entirely, Damon's hip jerked upward, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth and making her moan. The vibration of the sound raced through him, and he had a moment to wonder if he'd last long enough to fuck her.

The thought was like a splash of cold water for his brain, waking it up, firing neurons that told him he had to be inside her right that moment, had to come with his cock buried in her velvet heat.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, and her head jerked up. And something in her eyes sent every cell in Damon's body on high alert.

She was up to something. There was a calculating gleam behind the desire clouding her eyes, and he forced himself to remember where he was and precisely what was happening. She'd strolled into this room wanting something, met his hostility with blatant sexuality, and used her body to distract him. What the fuck was she up to?

He could've asked her flat out. Instead, he flipped her to her back and shoved her legs apart, sliding his hands to the backs of her knees and bending her legs so that she was fully exposed to him. Whatever trick she was pulling, she sure as hell wasn't faking her arousal. He released one leg, freeing his hand so he could touch her, spread her open for his viewing pleasure.

"God you've got a hot pussy," he growled, looking down at her. And before she could form a response, he rammed his cock into her in one swift, violent motion.

Her body bucked and she tried to wrap her legs around him, but his hands kept them firmly spread.

"Watch," he instructed, and her eyes dropped to the spot where they joined together, watched with heat and fascination as he moved in and out of her. Again he let go of one leg, and this time she let it fall open limply, too dazed by the power of each silken thrust to move, to think, to breathe. She couldn't tear her gaze from his hard length as it moved in and out of her, slowly, achingly slowly.

"More," she demanded, suddenly losing patience and freeing herself from his grip to wrap her legs tight around him. He caught her hips in his hands, lifted them, changing the angle of his strokes and making her catch her breath. She was close, so fucking close, to breaking completely, to shattering around him. Seconds away, building up, up, up -

And then he stopped moving entirely, eliciting a whimper from her throat.

"Don't stop," she ordered, pumping her hips to force him deeper. He pulled her close, letting her secure her legs around his waist before standing. She was wrapped around him like a fucking vine, twined with him, skin to skin, heat to heat, and her eyes opened in confusion when she realized they were suddenly vertical.

"What - "

"Here," he managed, and she let out a little yelp of surprise when her bare bottom came in contact with the cold wood of the dresser drawer. It was just the right height for him to fuck her into oblivion, and she balanced on the edge of the dresser, held in place only by his bruising, beautiful hands.

She arched her back and he drove deeper, harder, faster, until he knew she was about to break. He could feel her muscles clenching tight around his cock, could feel her trembling, desperate for him to push her over the edge.

And again, he stopped moving, mid-stroke. Kept her body still with his firm grasp as he slowly pulled out of her, until only the head of his swollen shaft was still inside her. Pulled further back and left her achingly empty.

"But - "

"Why are you here, Katherine?" It was a harsh demand, and it was taking all his self-control to separate his brain from his body. All he wanted to do was plunge into her, come inside her, feel her contract around him. But he had to know what she was after, other than the mind-blowing orgasm he held just out of her reach.

Her eyes opened, and he knew she would tell him anything if he'd just let her come. They were dark and desperate, and he felt a brutal surge of satisfaction knowing he'd outmaneuvered Katherine Pierce, manipulator extraordinaire.

"Please," she begged, "Please, Damon."

He gave her a few more inches, watched with almost clinical detachment as she tried fruitlessly to take more of him, to take all of him. But he was brutal, totally focused, refusing to give her any more until she answered his questions. He withdrew again, felt a dark and delicious rush of satisfaction when she whimpered.

"If you want any more of this," he murmured, rocking his hips just the slightest bit so she could feel the head of his cock pressed to her hot, wet, entrance, "You're going to tell me exactly what you're doing here."

He moved with agonizing slowness, pushing himself a little deeper, loving the fact that she was making incoherent noises, desperate ones, loving the fact that he'd finally conquered her.

"I need you to help me," she managed raggedly, thinking of nothing but the release he could give her.

"Help you with what?" A little deeper this time, then another rapid withdrawal.

"Jesus, Damon, just fuck me!"

"With what?" He repeated, pulling out further.

"Who," she answered, letting out another desperate whimper.

"With who, then?"

"No one who matters," she said, arching her back again, trying to rock her body forward, upward, sideways, whatever goddamn direction was necessary so he could just be inside her again.

"You're so close," he crooned into her ear, bending his torso forward to nip at her jaw while remaining entirely stationary from the hips down. "I'll give you what you want, sweetheart. But unlike you, I can be patient."

Which was a lie, of course - he was fairly certain he was going to kill himself trying to fuck her into submission, but she was too far gone to see how hard it was for him to hold back.

"She doesn't matter," Katherine managed, sounding near tears. "Please, Damon, please."

"Who, Katherine?"

"God damn it," she cursed, opening her eyes and staring up at him, fury and desire blazing bright. "Her name is Elena, okay? Elena Gilbert."

He knew that name. Why did he know that name?

"What about her?" he asked, giving her more of him, feeling her start to convulse around his rock hard dick. "Almost, Katherine," he whispered, shifting the slightest bit forward so that a strangled sound caught in her throat. "You're almost there. Tell me what I'm supposed to do with Elena Gilbert."

Katherine whimpered again, and it was music to his ears.

"I hate you," she breathed, "I absolutely hate you, Damon."

"Let me fuck you, Katherine," he taunted. "Tell me about Elena, and I'll fuck you senseless."

"I need her," Katherine ground out between clenched teeth. "And I need you to get her for me."

"What for?"

"Klaus," she breathed, tipping her head back, giving in to the needs of her body and throwing caution to the wind. He wanted to know, she'd tell him. "Klaus wants her, I want Klaus. Bait. She's bait, and you're gonna keep her safe for me until he comes for her. Okay? He's gonna come for her, and I'm going to end something that's hundreds of years in the making."

Damon's eyes roamed her features, and his knees nearly gave out from under him as relief weakened his body. She was telling the truth. She was too far gone to hold out any longer.

"You know what you're gonna do?" he asked, his voice almost gentle.

"What?" she answered, still trying to catch him off guard, still trying to regain the control she'd so thoroughly relinquished.

"You're going to come for me."

The leash on his willpower snapped, and he slammed into her like an animal, harder and harder, claiming her with his cock, owning her with his body.

"Yes," she breathed, and did.

Convulsions rocked her body, her muscles trembled, and as the orgasm tore through her, he let himself go.