III.

Like a predator, he waits.

He's never been a patient man. But he loves a good challenge and he always wins them anyway. Every second feels like a million.

But for her, he waits. For her, for that, that something, for the hunger he can't satisfy and the urge he can't resist.

He sees her struggling, her resilience wavering. She's close, he can tell, so close to letting him in. He feels the strain of it in his shoulder muscles, all his aching limbs. Her bottom lip quivers as though she's fighting herself.

But she's losing, he can tell.

When her name escapes from his lips, he knows he has her. Her eyes flicker up to meet his and everything grows dead quiet.

There she is, he thinks.

What a sight.

-XXXXXXXX-

Lunging forward on her tiptoes, she seeks him out and grabs his face with both hands, furiously crashing her lips into his and nearly throwing off Kai's balance. Bonnie demands entrance, pushing forward until he parts his lips and lets her in, his arms circling around her waist.

Fittingly, he tastes like destruction would: Sweet enough to lure her in and addictive enough to grip her like a vice. Hungrily, they push and pull, back and forth, neither of them regaining steady ground. Her nails rake across his jaw line, scratch across his prickly stubble, as she draws him in to deepen the kiss, and his magic engulfs her, possessively clawing at her own, sparking her hunger, the ache, that dark, toxic craving building and rumbling in her gut, feeding the parasite at her core. She feels his hands roaming her body, stroking and grabbing as though he needs to touch every inch of her, sliding down her waist and back, gripping her hips to pull her body flush against his. Then, finding the curve of her ass, he hoists her up, and she hooks her legs around his waist on instinct. Seconds later, her back hits the hard, cold, wooden door, his warm body trapping her between it and himself.

The painful collision snaps her out of it. Bonnie breaks away from him once she realizes it, pushes him away by his shoulders and finds steady ground under her feet, needing air to breathe and think- think- just think. When she opens her eyes and looks up at him, hands still clutching her waist, she sees the hungry, possessed look on his face, wicked darkness that reminds her of 1994. Yet despite it, perhaps because of it, she still feels hot, almost feverishly so, and it alarms her. She rushes past him, turns away from him and them and that. The taste of him still on her tongue, her hand moves to her mouth, to her swollen lips. As she does, it dawns on her how much she craved him in that moment, how much she craved to sink and drown in him and them.

There are muffled voices outside of her dorm, but inside all she hears is their panting, shaky breaths. Even now, with her back turned towards him, her hunger for him is still ever present. She feels it in her bones, as though she's nothing but skin and bones glued together with this parasitic urge. It's like it's tormenting her, laughing at her maniacally as it takes her, as it drags her down and away from the darkness that vowed to protect her.

Did it ever stand a chance?

Did she?

Maybe it was already too late when Kai stepped into her dorm. When she tried to leave him, or even when he left her. Maybe it was always a losing battle from the moment she met him, when she set fire to the ground below, or even the moment she died and was sent to his prison. Because even when she hated him, even when she hates him now, there's a part of her that's his.

Theirs.

It pains her that they share anything at all.

But he enrages her like no other, ignites a craving that just won't leave her alone and an ugly ache that just won't stop. And she sees it in his eyes, too, the same damn thing. In him, her own personal monster. She longs for his scars and wounds and pain, because they're hers. Longs for the power of bringing him down to his knees and for his submission. And for her own, to submit to sweet, sweet relief, because damnit, he'd caused this, he'd lured her in, trapped, stabbed and left her and now nothing feels right anymore, nothing at all. Nothing but a lust for bloodshed that makes her feel good and a depraved hunger for him that makes her feel better.

"You know, maybe I have lost my damn mind," she turns around to face him, a soft laugh escaping from her despite herself. Gesturing at the space between them, she says, "This? Doesn't mean that I don't want you to rot in hell. I hate what you did to me. I hate you for that, I can't just forget that."

-XXXXXXXX-

"Then don't."

The words come out a little raspy, undoubtedly affected by his own arousal. He can't even think straight. He sees the same in her eyes, the longing, the ache that's begging to drag her down to his level, their level, a level of depravity he can't even fathom. An ache covered by layer on layer of rage and resentment and his blood on her knife, but laced with that, that something, with need, drenched in the same hunger he feels and he knew it, he knew- he saw it and sensed it the minute she laid eyes on him and called upon her magic after going months without it.

She has no idea what she's unleashed.

She can't.

He's fucking starved for this, for her, his hunger for her feeling as primal and basic as the hunger he feels for steak or burgers or even his hunger for his rightful title as coven leader. It's all him, all his and just his and he wants her- fuck, fuck, fuck, so much, so, so much more than he even realized. She gave him a taste of her darkness, let him taste it, and now he wants, needs, must have every bit of it, even the pain that comes with it. Especially the pain that comes with it.

"Tell me to leave."

He takes a step towards her and before he even knows it, he's right in front of her again, again as if he can't even help himself, as if any distance is excruciating. Maybe he can't. Maybe it is. He raises his hand to her jaw, placing his thumb right over her lips, tracing them curiously. Her soft, plump lips make him feel an animal, like a predator of nature, preying on such softness only to annihilate it. When he removes his thumb, rests it on the corner of her mouth, her tongue darts out, swiping past her bottom lip as though to taste his touch. A thrilling rush shoots through him. He's a bundle of nerves, every sense heightened by the pull towards her.

He strokes her jaw, trailing his hand from her jawline to her neck, as he leans in and swiftly closes the distance between them. His thumb caresses her throat, his hand curved around her nape, and with his other hand he pulls her in, pulls her close, pulls her against him and makes her feel the heat of his body. She lets him in, sighing into the kiss like it's a relief, as though the minute she just spent without was a long drought, but soon she grows needy, becomes forceful and careless and overwhelming as her lips respond to his and his tongue swipes across hers.

Bonnie kisses him as though even this is a fight, as though she wants to inhale him yet destroy him at the same time. He responds to her just as hungrily, letting go of his restraint one bit at a time, relishing in her sweet taste that only adds to his need to consume every part of her. She claws at him, painfully digs her nails into his arms, his shoulders and sides, tearing at his shirt, only breaking away from his mouth for seconds to nip at his lips and soothe the sting with her tongue right after. It hurts him just as much as it hardens him.

They move, somehow; stumbling, clumsily taking steps between kisses, until his calves hit her bed, forcing them to break apart. Before he knows it, her hands move to his shoulders, pushing him down hard until he's seated on her bed. Seated, looking up at her and reveling in the sight of her, Kai finally notices how tight his jeans have become and how his dick is throbbing and aching to be released from its constraints. Aching for her, her wetness, her hot, slick walls wrapped and clenched around him as he fills her up and corrupts her, as she milks him and marks him. Kills him. Or he kills her, taints her, fucks the darkness right out of her or into her or them or-

She straddles him and kills his thoughts, every one of them, both knees on the outsides of his thighs, hands on his throat, thumbs pressing hard, and soft, plump lips on his. Bonnie grinds down on his groin, only adding to his ache, his hard, throbbing ache, as her tongue roams his mouth roughly, recklessly, selfishly.

"Fuck," he chokes out in a moment of separation, "Friction." She silences him with her mouth, all teeth and tongue and fury, and she grinds down harder, on purpose, tightening her grip on him with her knees. His hands sneak underneath her sundress, hiking it up, stroking her skin from her knees to her inner thighs, and grazing the fabric of her panties with his knuckles. She responds to his touch with a strangled noise, breaking their kiss.

Running his hand through her hair, he tilts her head back to expose her throat to him, leaning in and pressing his lips against her skin, as his other hand grabs her ass to pull her into his groin. The taste of her skin drives him mad, fueling his hunger for her and his desire to taste every inch of her and then some. He sucks on the exposed skin, feeling the vibrations of her moans from deep in her throat.

Her hands claw at his shirt, hurriedly pulling at the fabric.

"Off."

-XXXXXXXX-

Cobra Kai separates from his body, becoming a crumpled heap on the floor next to his kicked-off shoes. Black, moist panties follow, and when she straddles him again, knees dug deep into her mattress, his erection presses against her through rough denim fabric.

"We're entering dangerous territory, Bon," he murmurs against her jaw, inhaling her scent. His hand settles on her lower back, pressing, holding her steadily in place. With his other hand, he reaches down and runs his knuckles down her slit, before circling her clit with his thumb. She rolls her hips against his hand, wanting more of his touch, even closer, "No going back, I won't let you."

"How? How could I-," she says, her breath hitching in her throat. Her cheeks are flaming hot with arousal, and her pussy throbs like her heartbeat, "Wouldn't even know how."

He captures her mouth in an open-mouthed kiss, as he strokes her slit, teasingly parts her wet folds, before sliding in his finger, coated in her juices. Pushing deeper into her throbbing walls, he develops a slow, torturous rhythm. She shuts her eyes, tilting her head back as he adds a second and third moments later, speeding up and thrusting into her faster and she feels it approaching, pure ecstasy, feels the slow burn of it building in her belly. Arms laced around his neck, she threads her fingers through his hair, as her breaths turn shallow, reducing them to shallow gasps in the back of her throat and she feels dizzy, delirious as she rides his hand, eagerly opening up for him and wantonly trashing against it. She feels herself slipping, tumbling into madness of the purest kind, feels her orgasm building, feels tight heat quenching her thirst as he strokes her, drives his fingers inside faster and faster and better and damnit she'll snap if he- if he doesn't-

A sudden, sharp sensation, a pinch on her ass, causes her to open her eyes, hazy and possessed, as he keeps stroking her clit with his thumb. When she meets his, cold and dark and wicked, it sparks an old feeling of fear mixed with lustful, seething curiosity. When he curls his fingers inside of her just a little, just right there, she sees him, the old him, the one who killed her, and it makes her come with a thundering shock.

Pulling her closer, he swallows her moans, making her feel heady and crazed as she relishes in her high, her clenching muscles around his thrusting fingers. In the distance she hears the crackling sparks of ignited fire in her fireplace, the effects of her magic, or his, or maybe even theirs. His smug, smug, grin against her mouth triggers her rage, triggers her need for destruction. She takes his bottom lip into her mouth, before sinking her teeth into it, biting hard until he groans and pulls away. She tastes coppery blood that must be his and hears a dark laugh that must be hers, cut short when he slides out his fingers so abruptly it makes her feel empty.

"Kai," she doesn't recognize her own voice, laced with need.

He ignores her plea. There's still a smudge of blood on his bottom lip, but he makes no effort to wipe it off. Instead, he licks his fingers clean of her juices, removing them with a pop when he's done. Then, he grasps her chin, digging his fingertips into her cheeks before crashing his lips into hers and kissing her harshly. His tongue rolls over hers, tastes of honey, his blood and herself. She moans into his mouth, taking it all in, accepting what he's offering her and letting him drag her deeper into hysteria. She's never felt more famished, more primal. The taste of Kai, of them, is intoxicating, casts out the darkness that makes her hate him and replaces it with the darkness that makes her want him. Need him, she thinks, but she instantly kills the thought.

Rough denim hurriedly grazes her ass, then soft polyester. Her sundress follows, hiked up and pulled off in his haste, covering the crumpled heap like a yellow blanket. It barely takes a second, but then he's right there, groping, kneading her breasts and sucking hard on her collarbone, hard enough to leave a mark. And she can't think, not anymore, there's nothing but hunger that despite her orgasm hasn't dissipated but instead grown and spread as though it's latched onto her like a damn leech. A parasite. Somewhere, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wants to think, rationalize and run, but there's nothing else but his touch, taking every part of her and making her want to let him.

"All I've thought about, every fucking minute since you've been back," he inhales her scent again, again as though he can't get enough of it, laps at her skin down to her breasts, tending to each of them, one then the other, with each circling wet motion of his tongue around her nipples, hardening them. She runs her hands through his hair, grinding down in his lap to find his hard cock sliding past her slit.

But then he kisses her sternum, nips her right beneath her breast, right over her scar as though it's his, like it's not hers but his, but it's not, it can't be and that gets to her, sucks the air right out of her lungs, presses her throat shut and tugs at her heart, because that feels a little too messed up. Too twisted, too sick, sick like him and this and shit, she can feel it, shivers down her skin, heat pooling low and throbbing, aching flesh as if it's good and welcomed and clean and should make her feel like this. And she can't, she won't. She can't let him. It's not his scar, it's hers.

She tugs his hair, hard, shoves him by his shoulders until he's flat on his back, keeping him down with all the strength she can muster. Better, she thinks.

"Don't. Move."

-XXXXXXXX-

"Now where's the fun in-," his smirk fades as soon as Bonnie reaches behind her and takes his cock in her hand, stroking him and guiding him to her entrance. Slick heat follows, her sweet, tight, wet cunt, as she lowers herself down on his cock until he's buried inside of her to the hilt. Hands splayed over his chest, she keeps him down, adjusting to the feel of him. It's a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one; golden brown skin, soft curves and perky, supple breasts. Hooded eyes half shut in ecstasy, chest heaving as she alternates between slightly parted lips and biting her bottom lip. Yet all he wants is to distort the image. Corrupt it and taint it and add to her scars. His.

"Doesn't hating me feel absolutely fantastic?" he asks, his voice low and deep, unable to mask how far gone he is.

It earns him an exasperated laugh, cut short for a moan when he shifts, trailing his hands from her knees up to her hips, grabbing her and raising her slightly, only to pull her down harder, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open in surprise. Then, her eyes turn dark, meet his with a glare that sends a rush of heat straight to his gut. Her hands cover his, prying them off her skin, and she interlocks their fingers, only to pin his hands above his head, pushing him down. He lets her.

"Feisty," her face is right above his, her swollen lips nearly touching his, and their breaths intermingling, "Is this how you like it, me at your mercy?" He reaches for her, reaches up and brushes his lips past hers, but she shoves him back down by his wrists.

"I said, don't- Don't. Move," rolling her hips, she takes him in deeper, the thrill of it so good it's maddening, so good it makes him hate her just a little because fuck- he wants to let her, he really, really does, but he needs to lose it, go off and take and have her how he wants her and she's slick and tight and hot and why- why- why won't she just let him? He groans when she rises, just a little, squeezing his wrists tightly for purchase, only to slam herself down on him. She rolls her hips again, starts riding him, milking him and setting the pace as though she's in control and he shifts as much as he can because fuck that, he is, makes each slide down just a little better, deeper than she can on her own, faster than she'd like. With each passing aching second he grows hungrier. Falls deeper into that monstrous void where he almost forgets himself, almost loses himself in her divine cunt accepting his ruin and her perfect, bouncing tits with drops of sweat right between them. She develops a good rhythm, riding him so damn good he can't fucking think, her eyes dark and hazy and hooded like he's never seen them. And he can tell she's getting closer, can tell she's losing focus, and just when she tilts her head back as though it's too much, as though she's too close to even move an inch, just when her grip on him loosens, he grabs her wrists, taking her by surprise. Swiftly, he sits up, slides out of her and flips them before she can stop him.

"Enough," he growls, grabbing her by her waist and positioning her, teasing her slit with the head of his cock.

"I wasn't-," his mouth swallows her words, and then her moan, as he parts her wet folds and enters her in one long stroke. Her hands settle around his neck when they break apart, keeping him low, his face near inches away from hers, as he pulls back and thrusts into her again, magic clashing, lips brushing, breaths shallow. She holds his gaze defiantly, doesn't let him tear his eyes away, looks up at him like he didn't think she ever would. He wants to savor it but he can't go easy on her and this, can't slow down; he's too mad with hunger, so famished he can't help but drive into her, urgently, roughly, possessed by the feel of every contracting muscle around his dick and every bit of her wet, slick throbbing walls. She loses control with him, responding to his body like it's all she knows and he sees in her eyes that she's right there with him, losing her mind like him, gasping, aching like him and for him and shit- Everything about him, all of this, it's hers- because Bonnie's looking at him like that and fuck, fuck, fuck- she has her hand clutched around his beating heart even when she can't rip it out.

Damn her.

He's hers, even if she won't be his.

This, them, it's him being greedy, he knows that. Maybe he wants too much, expects too much if he wants her just like this every damn minute of every damn day. But maybe, just maybe, they both are. Hungry for each other and hungry for their joint power. The air around them is drenched in their magic. He wants every drop of it, of her. Every bit of this high. He can't go back to not feeling her, he won't.

She fights him even now. Her magic strokes his skin, crackling electricity right underneath her fingertips from his neck down to his hard, lean chest to his sides before circling her arms around him and pulling him even closer. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, taking in their joined scent like it's his drug, nipping on exposed skin, feeling tight, hot tension building as he drives into her with frenzied thrusts. Her nails dig deep into his skin, raking his back and sides, harder each time.

It isn't until she's midway through the spell that he realizes it, that it registers. It gets lost right between two breathless moans and another loud, bruising smash of her bedpost against her dorm wall. With her fingernails she claws at the skin on his back, burns him, marks him right under his shoulder blades. Kai feels the cuts, the slashes, feels his skin breaking and the sting of salty sweat, feels warm blood escaping him, dripping out of his wounds and down his sides. But she's so wet and good and hot and un-fucking-believable clenched around him that he doesn't care, keeps going; it hurts but it only makes him harder, only makes him hungrier and only makes her sweeter.

He groans when Bonnie dips her fingertips into his wounds, when she traces the lines of open skin down his back, but he feels the pressure deep and low in his abdomen, the sweet, throbbing ache, taking over every sense, building right below the surface. Kai hears her panting breaths, her soft, needy whines, her pleading, desperate mewls and her gasp as she gets there. Her body tenses as she comes, crying out, before he feels her shudder around him and arch her back against him, her hard nipples grazing past his chest. As she revels in the high of them, the ecstasy of her orgasm, he increases his pace, continues to thrust into her, madly, blindly, sloppier as he gets closer.

She sends him over the edge when she whimpers his name.

-XXXXXXXX-

"You should go," she says, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above, "You can't be here when Elena or Caroline comes back."

She doesn't know how long it's been. Kai's on his side right next to her, propped up one elbow, and she feels his eyes on her, but she can't even look at him. His arm weighs heavily on her abdomen, keeping her in place like an anchor. Every now and then he winces in pain from the sting of the open wounds on his back.

"Yeah, wouldn't want your friends to know you've been lying with the enemy."

She traces a line down his arm with her bloodstained fingers. His dick twitches against her hip in response. Somehow, the sight of his dried blood on her hands pleases her, sends ripples of heat right back to her abdomen. She still craves Kai like it never happened, like she never let him touch her with the same hands he used to choke her.

She feels a lump in her throat as she exhales a shaky breath, "We were reckless- too reckless, Kai, we're lucky no one walked in on us."

"I'm sure we would have given them one hell of a show," he says, followed by a dark chuckle that makes her want to wring his neck, "But, maybe you're right, what with me being the one and only Gemini coven leader and all- I have to uphold that spotless reputation."

"Yes, because that's the problem, you and your reputation."

She doesn't even have to look at him to see it, the smug grin plastered on his face, "What would they think of me if they knew I'd been… fornicating with a Bennett witch? Which, speaking of, and under the guise of a slightly different kind of recklessness… I know a spell, a Gemini spell to protect us this time. A Parker-Bennett kid would be a sure sign of an impending apocalypse, no?"

She shuts her eyes, covering her face with her hands and groaning at the thought of her recklessness. It's frightening. She's never been this careless before, this destructive to her own sanity, never lost it to the point where her damn common sense flew out the window. She hears the call of her chosen darkness; dark, blind hatred reclaiming her.

"This time?" her laugh sounds more bitter than intended, "That's awfully presumptuous, don't you think?"

"Isn't this much more fun than stabbing me?"

"This was a moment of- of madness. One. Or maybe I just needed to get you out of my system."

"Maybe," he pulls her towards him, turns her on her side until she's facing him, "Or maybe now I'm in your system."

Her eyes flicker down to his lips. A little too long, because he cups her face and brings her closer until his lips are nearly touching hers. She closes the distance between them, kissing him ravenously. Kai's hands move down her body, trail down her curves and back. He kneads her ass, grabbing her to lift her. Before she knows it, she's on top of him, feeling his growing hardness against her. She breaks away from him, sitting up. Looking into his eyes, Bonnie sees nothing but hunger, again. His eyes are as dark as hers must be, she thinks.

She's still starved for more of him, of them, on the verge of dripping wetness for his touch and his submission. Is this the state of delirium she was afraid of? An insatiable appetite for her destruction and his pain? Hunger for his blood on her body, his open wounds, his pulsing dick inside of her or the flick of his tongue?

"Like I said, dangerous territory, Bon. You're forgetting that you weren't alone in this, that I felt that same power. Good luck staying away from that. Besides, one moment of madness probably made you feel better than anything has since you came back."

"What makes you so sure?"

"This," he caresses her scar with his thumb. This time she lets him.

"And the ones on my back."

-XXXXXXXX-

The sound of her door slamming shut startles her, as she washes his blood off her hands. She doesn't know what she expected, but it hurts. Kai hurts. Bonnie wonders how long she'll need to crawl out of this, to find back the dark rage that covered up the all-consuming ache. Then, she wonders if she even wants to.

A hard knock on the door followed by a muffled voice interrupts her stream of thought. She pulls her dress over her head, straightening it while looking in the mirror. Walking out of the bathroom, she notices that he's left no trace of himself. The spot where he hit the wall is fixed, the fire in her fireplace has died down and her sheets are clean and good as new.

His absence is troubling, somehow.

Another knock follows and it becomes clear to her whose voice is at the other end of the door. Bonnie checks the room once more before opening the door for him.

Damon walks in, frantic and angry.

"I just saw our friendly neighborhood psycho down the hall. Did he hurt you? Say the word and I'll-"

"Kai was just here for the ascendant. But I didn't give him what he wanted." Her voice is slightly hoarse. Bonnie hopes he doesn't notice, that he misses her flushed cheeks and her pupils, dilated with the bit of hunger still present. Still, his face shows signs of disbelief. He studies her for a while, but he doesn't speak. It's unnerving.

"Why are you here, Damon?"

"Just checking in, Bon Bon. Rightfully so, apparently. I can smell him all over this dorm."

"And I can smell all your lies. Why are you really here?"

"The ascendant. My mother… I need it."

"Of course you do. Did you miss the part where I said I didn't give it to Kai either?"

Bonnie crosses her arms as a barrier. She glares at Damon, as he continues to study her and the room in silence. Damon's selfish dishonesty still enrages her. They haven't talked about any of yet, not really. But the more she finds out he's kept from her, the more she's at a loss for words.

"Anyway, I have somewhere I have to be, so…" she says, breaking the silence, "Don't come asking for the ascendant again if you know what's good for you."

Bonnie grabs her bag, the ascendant still in it safely tucked away, and moves toward the doorway. She doesn't know where she's headed to, but she doesn't care. She wants air, fresh air to clear her mind of this and Kai and them and every inch of skin she let him have.

But Damon stops her dead in her tracks.

"Damon…"

"My mother's patience is wearing thin."

"So is mine."

"She found out about the cure. She hid it somewhere and now she's using it as leverage. Can't you do your witchy woo thing and track it down, make this go away, help me get it back so I can give it to Elena?"

"Not. My. Problem," she says, "Maybe you shouldn't have lied. Not to her, and not to me… Lock the door when you leave."

He narrows his eyes at her, his displeasure apparent, but it doesn't hit her in that spot, the other sweet spot, that Damon spot he's created in her brain by virtue of months of isolation.

She brushes past him, opening the door before he can respond.

When the door slams shut behind her, she's met with nothing but relief.

A/N #1: So, this is it! How was the smut? I find that hard to objectively judge, as the writer. To the guest reviewers who I couldn't privately reply to (i.e. Cherry1, Vera, guest #1, CocoTapioka, Guest #2 and Tina), thank you for your support! I was so incredibly nervous about posting this story as a whole (and this part in particular), because it's been so long since I've written anything. It makes me so happy that you guys enjoyed reading this and I hope you enjoyed this last part as well. I found this part the most challenging to write, but I think it ended up being my favorite part out of the three.

A/N #2: There's a tiny part of my brain that's considering a sequel, perhaps to fix the rest of the events of season 6 (and so No-Humanity Caroline and Kai can meet, lol.) It's something to think about after I get some time off from uni in a few months. Or maybe I'll write a new fic all-together. But I loved writing bonkai, even more than I expected, so whether it's a sequel for this or something new, I think I'm definitely going to try to write for them more, keep them alive on paper. Thanks again!