He shouldn't be surprised to see her. After all, Katherine's always had a way of simply showing up. They're in the grill, and she's playing charades in the form of straight hair and doe eyes feigning innocence. Only he can tell right away it's not Elena, because Elena hasn't looked at him like that since -. The Salvatore shifts in his seat, torn between uncomfortable, irritated, and quite honestly depressed because she looks like Elena and that's enough to remind him. A soft click of heels approaching only pushes him further to the bar and to the vodka even though deep down he knows he needs something stronger.
"Hello, Stefan," there's a catch in her voice. A soft purr that's known to draw the animal from any man and he's no exception - especially not like this. Halfway to drunk and miles past reasonable. So he turns to face her, green eyes dark with suspicion as she lets the facade fall away beneath a coy smile. "Did you miss me?" He knows what he should say. That he hadn't thought about her once in the time that she's been gone. Only that wouldn't exactly be true.
He thinks about her now more than ever. He thinks about a time when he was naive and willing to do anything for love, when he stood a fighting chance against his brother and they'd both known exactly where Katherine had stood on the matter. Long before Elena, indecision, and heartbreak. Before all of this.
"Katherine."
The smirk that stretches back across her lips is sinful in itself, and for no apparent reason he can imagine them against his. In such dayreams they're full and moist with want, pulled between his teeth and bruised to the point of swelling.
"What are you doing here?"
She chuckles, and there's something condescending about the way she cocks a hip beneath her hand. "What? Didn't you expect me to visit?" The smirks never leaves. She steps closer, pressing in in a way that makes her feel as if she's surrounding him. "And after hearing about your lovely Elena and our dearest Damon, well, I just had to check in on you Stefan."
Stefan's torn between heartache and the burning desire to ask her 'how would you know about that?' - but she's Katherine, and she's always had a knack for having eyes in every corner.
So instead of doing either he stands up in a rush, somehow managing to keep his pace even and reasonably human as he makes for the door. Of course she's right behind him. He couldn't get her to leave even if he wanted to. So, together, the pair stalk their way down the sidewalk, past the bridge, and they just keep walking. To a vampire, who's energy never seems to weaken, who's body is fueled by blood but also emotion and all it entails, the trip is short. Only he knows that's not true, because by now they're so deep into the forest that he's not even sure where they are.
"Cozy," she teases from behind him as she admires a moss laced tree and bare undergrowth. This time, he doesn't hold back. Every ounce of energy, every emotion built from Damon, Elena, and her drives him at the doppelganger in a blur. Just a second, if that, and he's got her pinned back against the nearest tree. There's the splintering sound of wood as the bark breaks away from the force and a soft grunt that sounds more euphoric than miserable. She seems impressed, watching him with eyes trimmed in black. "Go on, Stefan, don't stop now," she eggs him on. Sweet encouragment on a serpent's tongue. And he wants to, he does, but he's struggling. Loyalty and a now slightly shrouded agony from the recent break-up threaten to well. Katherine can see it in his eyes - the pain.
Another grunt, only this time it's distinctly masculine. In a pace just as quick as his own Katherine's managed to push him back to the forest floor. He knows he should push her off, but he can only watch as she slinks back into a sitting position - her hips perfectly rested over his. There's a subtle shift and then a great circular motion, pressure behind the act pushing her pelvis to his in a way that's positively maddening. He groans, she groans, and there's no going back at this point.
Hands seem to be everywhere. He slides them along her back, memorizing over again every groove until the hem of her shirt is between her fingers. The fabric pulls off like a second skin, slow but enticing. Every inch of bare skin is greeted with a heated gaze and a promise for more as she returns the favor and before long there's nothing left betwen them. Teeth are bared as her nails press their way into his chest, deep against the contours of his abdomen down to the promise of his groin. A hundred and forty five years later and she's still impressed. Only now he's a vampire too, and desperate for the control he used to so easily relinquish. Emboldened, hardened, his hands clasp around her hips. Fingertips press into the silk skin of her thighs to test the muscle underneath She quivers, bucks as he pulls her over him - again, and again, and again. The teasing drives her mad and she snarls for dominance but he doesn't yeild the space necessary for her to take what she's now panting for.
So, she overpowers him. With a strength that surpasses him as easily as her age, Katherine pulls his hands from the safety of her thighs. Rather, she draws them up the front of her, along the smooth line of her stomach to the pert mounds of her breasts. Nipples harden under the renewed attention, dusky mounds filling his hands just right as she takes the moment of distraction to slip up and then over until she's impaling herself on top of him. The noise he makes isn't human, but then again, it wouldn't be, would it? Her head thrusts back as his whole body seems to drive up to meet her. He doesn't even give her a moment to adjust, knowing she prefers the powerful friction that comes with the sudden force. Only he still can't quite exhaust the power he wants, not at this angle. Thus, in a quick blur of speed and lust he twists them over until she's pressed to the dirt and he's pressed to her. Her legs are eager to wrap around him, and so in need is he that he drives himself inwards until going any further is impossible.
Right there. Her chaotic groans and the frantic scrambling of her nails against his back keep him drawn in even as he slides back, pushing forward in the moment to follow. This action comes in quick procession, over and over, until she's a banshee of wanton expression and he's tip-toeing on the edge. Then, there's only white. With a snarl as resounding as a thunderous cry he meets the release he so desperately craved. However, for a few more moments he continues to push forward, determined to push her off that same precipice. When she finally does fall, she does so with parted lips and an enunciated groan that leaves him shivering. "That's more like it," she finally purrs from underneath him, and he gives her a cold look as he draws back. His pants are soon in hand, and he fumbles about in post-ecstacy to pull them on while she watches, still naked, from the earth. "Going somewhere?" she quirks a brow, long legs slowly drawing under her to push her up so that she's standing just behind him.
"I can't do this, Katherine, not anymore," he grits his jaw as he speaks over his shoulder, the same patch of tattooed skin she slowly draws long fingers over.
"Yes you can, Stefan," she promises, and even in a whisper her voice is no less callous, no less cunning. "It'll be our little secret."