Katherine sat in the passenger seat, her right hand held a lit cigarette loosely in between her fingers, the ash glowing red momentarily before being lost to the darkness.
The windows were rolled down as Damon drove them through the winding path of the back roads that lined the river.

He reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Elena as he looked over at Katherine.
They'd had too much bourbon and too many sidecars at dinner.
Both of them knew where this was headed: Katherine' apartment.
Katherine narrowed her eyes at the intersection ahead as the wind played with her dark hair, swirling it gently around her face.

Damon slowed the car as they approached a railroad crossing, the flashing lights a bright warning in the dark night. The loud whistle of a freight train was followed by the vibrating of the earth below them.
Damon cursed as he pulled the car over, killing the engine.
They were going to be here a while.

"I read something the other day," Katherine said, filling the silence.
"Tell me," Damon said, looking over at her as she exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night sky.

He could sense the beginning of her game.

She was using that voice that let him know she was going to pry him open and bleed him dry, a form of entertainment so entirely Katherine that Damon expected nothing less.

He was ready. This was exactly why he had called her.

"It was a psychology think piece," she added as a disclaimer, "it said that we accept the love we think we deserve."

This was going to be a treat.
The train was still crossing in front of them.

What had Elena said to Damon once?

You sabotage things. Whenever there's a bump in the road, you lash out.

"Do you think you deserve love, Damon?"

"Katherine," Damon groaned, looking out his window. "I didn't call you for a psychoanalysis."

"Didn't you?"

"No, I wanted to get out of the house for a drink with an old friend. But Ric is dead, so that makes you the oldest person I know."

"Funny," she said, throwing out her cigarette. It glowed red for a final second before landing in the river. "I thought you called for a quick fuck."

The train had finally concluded its passage in front of them.
The warning lights blinked a final time as the barriers went up, granting them access to continue to their destination.
There was nothing but darkness to keep them company.

He could feel Katherine giving him that stupid, condescending smirk she saved exclusively to torment him. She unbuckled her seat belt when he turned his head to look at her.

"You know I don't like fucking in cars," Damon reminded her, as she climbed into his lap, kissing his neck as he pushed up her dress.

Fuck.

He caught her lips in a rushed kiss, he was desperate for a distraction and Katherine wasn't wearing anything under her dress.
She tasted like cigarette smoke and brandy. It reminded him of the 70s and sleepless New York nights.
Nostalgia was a bitch but it was no match for Katherine Pierce.

"Elena and Stefan are probably fucking right now," Katherine said, pulling back slightly.

"Katherine, " Damon warned, sitting up straighter and bringing her lips back to his.
He wanted to get lost in her taste, he wanted to forget.

Katherine reached between them to undo his belt, hands moving expertly as if no time had passed between the last time they'd done this.

Damon lifted his hips for Katherine as she pushed his jeans and boxers out of her way.
She reached down to straddle him, her fingernails teasing him from base to tip as she lowered herself onto him.

Katherine exhaled with a quiet, triumphant moan and Damon closed his eyes, feeling the way her body adjusted around him, pulling him in.

It was just Katherine and him in this small space; just two bodies in need of validation, of release, of entertainment.
His lips searched Katherine's for the words he hadn't heard from Elena, but he definitely wasn't thinking about Elena.

"Tell me what you love about her," Katherine whispered in his ear, kissing his temple and wrapping her legs around him as much as she could without the seat getting in the way.

This was all too familiar: Katherine was in charge, goading him into a silent rage to claim his vulnerability as her pleasure.
He was her favorite toy and she'd never let him forget.

She gyrated her hips tauntingly slow, clenching her inner muscles rhythmically around him.

Always so calculated, but tonight he didn't care.
He needed someone else to take control.

He breathed into Katherine's neck, moving his hands to her hips.
He needed her closer.

"Tell me what you love about her," Katherine demanded again, covering his hands with hers at her hips, showing him the pace she wanted.

"Katherine, stop," he begged.

"Stop?" She teased, stilling her hips.

"Stop talking. Take your fucking dress off, " he grunted in frustration, pushing up into her, willing her to move again.

Katherine was reveling in his misery, he could practically feel her radiating with satisfaction.

"Not until you tell me what you love about her," Katherine repeated.

She clenched.

"Fuck," Damon moaned. " Everything. I love everything about her."

Katherine pulled her dress over her head, tossing it into the passenger seat.
He reached behind her to undo the clasp of her bra.

She resumed the rolling of her hips, reaching forward to pull Damon's shirt above his head and closing the gap between them.
Her nipples brushed against his chest, sending a shiver down his body.

He covered her mouth with his before she could ask something else.
She kissed him back harder, biting his lip and drawing blood.
She locked eyes with him as she wiped the droplets away with her finger and licked it.
He wished they were at Katherine's apartment, on her bed where he could grab her by the waist and flip them around so he could fuck her from behind.
He needed her to stop asking asinine questions.
Questions about Elena.

But right now all he could focus on was the steady rhythm of his hips and driving into Katherine with the strength of all the unspoken things between him and Elena.

Katherine cried out, pulling on his shoulders, bringing him closer.
He hated how much he wished it were Elena contracting around him at this very moment.
He hated himself.
He reached up to brush Katherine's nipples with his thumbs.

She arched her back in response, burying her hands in his hair, urging him to keep going.

"Are you thinking about her right now?," Katherine gasped out as his lips closed around her nipple.

No, he lied.

Damon focused on her breasts, giving them each attention, making her forget her questions momentarily.
He wasn't going to last much longer if Katherine kept mentioning Elena.

"How does she like being fucked? Does she like it when you fuck her from behind?" Her breathing was getting quicker and raspier.

"I said stop," Damon reached between their joined bodies and pressed a thumb against her clit.
She cried out in surprise, and the clenching became less calculated and he knew she was close.

He pushed his hips up harder, his thumb still circling her clit.
He pulled her hair with his free hand, bringing her throat to his lips.

"Are you pretending Elena's the one about to come around your cock?" Katherine breathed, still fighting for control.

"Yes," he admitted as he bit down into her flesh.
Katherine's body stilled around his as she moaned.
He pushed his hips up into her body as he released pent up anger, worry, and all the unspoken things that lived within him.

Katherine's slow heartbeat pulsing gently beneath his fangs.
She ground her hips harder against him, begging him to finish it.

He thought of Elena that afternoon in the kitchen.
He thought of how he had pinned her body against the counter and how he traced this exact spot on her throat.
The body above his was trembling and Damon thought of nothing but Elena.
Damon closed his eyes, tasting Katherine on his lips, feeling her fluttering muscles around his cock, finally spent and satiated.

"You're just a placeholder. You were to me and you are to her," Katherine said breathlessly.

"I know," he agreed, letting go of Katherine's hair, arms falling at his sides in defeat as Katherine rested her body against his.

They sat in silence, catching their breath.

A car's oncoming headlights lit up the car and Damon reached for Katherine's discarded dress.
He draped it over her shoulders as the car sped by, swaying the car gently in its wake.
The crunching of gravel replaced by the chirping of crickets in the summer night.

Katherine pushed back from him and pulled the dress over her head.
She kissed Damon, slowly at first, like she was savoring another sidecar.
She deepened the kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

Damon broke the kiss and Katherine opened the car door.

She pulled herself off of Damon and he shivered involuntarily at the loss of contact.

Katherine stepped out of the car and pulled her dress down, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Damon breathed for a second, running his hands through his hair before fixing his pants and pulling on his shirt to follow Katherine into the darkness that surrounded the car.

Too much bourbon and too many sidecars, he thought again.
Like it mattered.
It sounded like a well practiced excuse.

I don't know what happened. Too much bourbon and too many sidecars, I guess.

He felt sick.
Led to misconduct by his own mental demons.
He felt empty.
Empty, disappointed, and left with nothing but shaky, clammy hands.

He walked to the back of the car and emptied the contents of his stomach.
It burned the way only bad decisions laced with bourbon and regret could erode from within.

He patted his pants, checking for his phone. It was still in the car. He reached for it and the lock screen showed no missed calls.

His stomach hurt.

"Damon. She doesn't care," Katherine said.
She had lit another cigarette and was leaning against the hood of the car, looking up at the stars.

"When did you fall in love with Elena?" Katherine asked as he joined her side.

"Katherine," Damon said, clearing his throat. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Damon, she literally has my face," Katherine deadpanned.
She waved her hands in front of her face and gestured at her body.
Her lit cigarette burned angrily in her hand.
"What is this obsession with wanting what Stefan has? You can say it's not about me, but we know a part of you both is still hoping to catch the version you wish I had been in 1864."

He'd never heard her speak so candidly and seriously. He couldn't deny there were pieces of truth in her statement.

"That might be true of Stefan," Damon said after a while.

"But not of you," Katherine said, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Katherine," Damon said seriously. "I was in love with you. I died for you."

"I never asked you to," she shrugged. "Now tell me when you fell in love with her. When did you stop loving me?"

Damon sighed.

He hadn't told anyone this but there was a kind of catharsis in telling Katherine the truth.

"The night I went into the tomb under the church looking for you and you weren't there ," Damon said thoughtfully. "I left the tomb in an absolute rage. I was heartbroken, disappointed, and embarrassed. I felt like a fucking idiot. I had spent decades researching how to get you out. And you weren't there. Elena walked over to me, carefully, back when she was still afraid of me," Damon laughed. "She put her arms around me, not with pity, and it did something to me. She didn't want anything from me, not my money, not the promise of eternal life, nothing. She just wanted me to know she felt my pain. And suddenly…I felt free. I went into the tomb to save you, but Elena rescued me."

Katherine didn't say anything.

He watched her finish her cigarette.

"I died for you, Katherine," he said again.

"I heard you the first time," she said as she got back into the car. "Take me home."

Damon's phone vibrated.
ELENA lit up the screen.

He declined the call and got in the car.