Title: Baby, It's Cold Outside

Author: Bynamearose/CynicalAuthoress

Fandom: Vampire Diaries

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Damon/Katherine

Summary: It's instinct, feeling like someone loving him is a lie and he plays into it with every insecurity.

Warnings: Sexual Situations, Mature Language, Violence – IDK, the works.

Notes: Started writing this in December for my Datherine Christmas Lingerie manip and forgot about it.

Disclaimer: If I owned this show, Damon and Katherine would have had car sex. Unf.


"Are you done pouting?" she asks mockingly.

She's nearly naked, clad in a black camisole that reached mid-thigh, keeping her skin covered in thin, sheer fabric. It's a temptation Damon doesn't really appreciate at the moment, though – not when he's this angry and not when she's this nonchalant about things. If anything, he could rip the fabric to shreds and not give a damn.

Well, he'd try.

"That depends. Are you done teasing?" he sneers, not moving towards her. Instead, he nurses a glass of bourbon, only setting it down as Katherine steps out of the archway between his bathroom and bedroom.

"So, I played a little game." Katherine scoffs lightly, licking her lips as she crosses slowly over to him. "Would you really want me any other way?"

And, like that, Damon grips her shoulders tightly, pulling her towards him, hovering above her lips. Her eyelashes flutter momentarily, like they shouldn't after so many years of being held too roughly, and she sees the look of satisfaction before it even crosses his face. He's teasing her, she realizes, and prides herself on not breaching the distance between their lips.

"You think every man would want you any way he could have you."

She smirked, her perfect lips curving into a malicious grin."Aren't I right?"

"Maybe," he relents, just a bit. "But don't confuse wanting you with needing you." He pulls her tighter against him; he feels everything, knows every curve and every action he provokes in her, from her nipples hardening like pebbles against his chest to the wetness between her legs that, if he weren't so intent on punishing her, he'd dip down to taste. Her eyes are dark, but her grin is still there, and that keeps him from doing anything in her favor.

Damon stares into her eyes directly, speaking lowly, "It doesn't mean I can't throw you out for the night, or for the rest of eternity, for that matter."

There's a fraction of a second where he can see the flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, quickly covered by a pout of skepticism.

"Like I haven't heard that before-" she starts, but his hands crawl up her thighs, under the camisole, and her breath catches. He smirks as he presses a hand against her core and Katherine stifles a moan. She wants to buck her hips to encourage him, but, when she looks up into his eyes, his lips are feverishly pushed against her own, dominating her breath.

There's something wrong about this, so rushed and indifferent.

But no one gets her off quite like Damon, and if this is what will release his frustration, she's not exactly complaining.

He slips one finger, then two, inside her, smirking as he finds her warm and wet and waiting eagerly. He releases her mouth and Katherine immediately gasps, one hand clenched around the sheets of his bed and her hips arching to his touch. He increases the pace of his thrusting fingers, thumb circling her clit, and finds himself memorizing every mewl of pleasure, every sound she makes. He remembers how it sounded as a human: fulfilling, carnal, passionate, amazing – hell, it's still fucking amazing. He thinks that he's never found anything quite this erotic in his life, even after one-hundred-and-forty-five years of searching.

There's a pang of reality and disappointment when he remembers why he's doing this in the first place.

He withdraws his hand, expressionless, and Katherine's eyes pop open as she glares and warns, "Damon..."

"Katherine." He flashes her a smirk, sitting back on the bed indifferently, and, one by one, sucks off his fingers. He moans lightly around the second one, licking his lips once the finger is clean. He won't be the only one feeling pangs of jealousy tonight.

She resorts to a different tactic, realizing she's clearly unforgiven. "Damon, please."

Damon doesn't smile or smirk this time, only looks up at her once before shrugging.

"Fine," Katherine says, raising her eyebrow before using supernatural speed to pin him onto the bed. She kisses him deeply, tasting herself on his lips, and her hands thread through his hair, but he's as unresponsive as he can be, like he's dead under her. Katherine almost groans.

She's actually going to have to work for her orgasm. Joy.

She unbuttons his shirt, grinding her hips along his, and tracing the skin she exposes with every button with her tongue. Her hands are rough as she removes his shirt, and, once it's off, her touches are light and gentle once more, a finger tracing the dark patch of hair leading into his pants. They lock eyes, dark brown against startling blue, and he gives a grunt of pleasure when she finally grasps his hard on, she slowly strokes him once, twice with her hand.

She smirks up at him seductively. "Consider this my apology."

There's a pause and, in an instant, Damon flips her over, pinning her arms above her head. She could easily throw him off of her, but the pleasure-pain from his hands tight around hers, his hips grinding against hers, and the heated gaze he gives her is all getting to her.

It's a game, she thinks, and, fuck, does he know how to play just right.

He leans into her, face centimeters from her own and she think she finally has him. She's got him between her legs, ready to take her just like she wants him to, and the thing she wants more – his lips on hers, their rhythms perfectly matched – is just a few pieces of clothing away.

"Not good enough," he hisses, his eyes darkening.

He lifts off of her slowly, like its nothing. He doesn't speed out of the room or tell her to go screw herself, like he's been known to. He doesn't even give her those wide blue eyes that speak of hurt and betrayal, the ones that affected her more than she liked to admit and she hoped she'd never cause again. He smooths out his dark shirt, not bothering to button it up, and grabs his jacket off the coat rack. He nears the door when Katherine speaks, eyes dropping shut as she finally finds her voice.

"Damon," Katherine objects, confused and frustrated all at once.

Damon pauses, turning around only to meet her eyes blankly. "When does it stop being a game, Katherine?"

Even though, deep down, she knows she deserves it, Katherine feels her heart fall as he walks out the door.


TBC...