Chapter Text
When Elena had originally cut her wrist open, Katherine had no reason not to believe it had all been by accident. Those big doe eyes and the way her heart beat to a quick and anxious staccato had easily led Katherine to believe it was all by accident.
Then, she came to know better.
When Elena slices the underside of her forearm open this time, Katherine pouts and calls her a poor baby. Leading her to the dining table of her large hotel room, she tugs out a chair and invites Elena to sit. Holding her wrist gently between her fingertips, Katherine allows Elena the moments she needs to try and sell her story. It hurts, it stings, she feels woozy from all the blood. Katherine wonders if her attempts at being a damsel had always been so foolproof to the Salvatores.
But Katherine knows better.
Nodding in mock sympathy, she lets Elena pull out a stray tear before she decides to call her bluff. Scooting her chair closer to her until her knee bumps hers, she hears the uncertain tug of breath clump Elena’s throat. Elena stares at her, still smart enough to keep her lip quivering.
Katherine lifts Elena’s bloodied and dainty wrist up to almost brush against her chin. Bowing her head, she drags her tongue slowly along the cut of her wrist, licking up the blood staining and oozing thickly out from the slice. Elena’s heart seems to stop. That clumping in her throat gives way to a sound that only makes Katherine smile.
Kissing the slice only once, Katherine peers up at Elena and smirks, lips glinting and stained with her blood. She latches her mouth to Elena’s wrist and sucks hard, and keeps her gaze tilted upward so she can watch as Elena’s face contorts into an open display of pleasure.
When Katherine lifts her head and licks at her lips, Elena’s shaking her head incredulously. She stares at her with those big doe eyes. The veins beneath Katherine’s eyes feel heavy as her eyes threaten to blacken over. Elena stares at her openly, her lips parted. Her breathing comes rapidly, desperate now. "It still hurts."
Katherine pouts, liking the way Elena’s gaze drops to her bloodied mouth and lingers. "Poor baby." She does the only thing she can do: she lowers her head and sucks at her wrist, licking at her blood and leaving her skin bruised.