Only For One Night...Maybe

Elena's breath caught, her fingers tightening at her sides.

Leon took a slow step toward her, his gaze unrelenting. "You came because of the memories, didn't you? The ones that you didn't know you had, now the ones that you can't shake. The ones that keep creeping into your thoughts no matter how hard you try to suppress them."

Her face burned with shame.

Leon smirked, watching her reaction. "You remember the way you moved beneath me. The way you felt. You came here seeking the truth, Elena. I'll give you something better."

His presence grew heavier, his mental prowess seeping into her mind before she could resist.

Darkness enveloped her.

Then, reality twisted.

Elena found herself lost in an intoxicating haze, her body tingling with new sensations. In her mind's eye, days stretched into nights, then weeks, then months. One hundred days of pleasure, of raw, unfiltered indulgence. Each moment is more intense than the last. She felt every touch, every whispered word, every gasp of pleasure.

And every moment, it was him.

Leon.

By the time she awoke, the dreamscape had shattered, leaving her gasping, her body alight with an unfamiliar hunger.

But something was wrong.

The room was still the same, but now, at the center of it, was Katherine—her doppelgänger—on her knees, lips wrapped around Leon's cock, her masked face finally discarded.

Reality hit Elena like a punch to the gut.

It was never her. Not once.

Every memory, every intimate moment she thought she had shared with Leon—it had always been Katherine.

The realization sent her emotions spiraling. Humiliation. Anger. Betrayal. And yet, deep beneath the storm, something darker whispered in the back of her mind.

Leon's voice cut through the chaos.

"But I'll give you one chance."

She looked up at him, trembling, her mind battling between pride and something dangerously alluring.

"Tonight or never," he said, his smirk returning.

Elena's heart pounded. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to run from this twisted game before it swallowed her whole. But another voice—one she barely recognized as her own—asked: What if I don't?

The mental wedge placed by Leon pressed against her thoughts, forcing her deeper into temptation.

Only for one night.

Everyone already thinks it happened. They all believe I'm that girl. Stefan and Caroline even thought I was pretending and sneaking around with him. Shouldn't I be exactly what they want me to be?

Even if it was all an illusion, I've learned something about myself…

Leon saw the shift in her expression, the subtle falter in her resolve. He knew he had her.

Elena exhaled shakily. "I'll do it."

Leon's smirk widened, his voice rolled, almost like a demonic song. "Good girl."

The night unfolded in a tangled web of pleasure and deception, with Leon weaving himself between Elena and Katherine in ways neither of them could have foreseen. Shadows flickered across the lavishly furnished room, candlelight casting golden halos over sweat-slicked skin. The air was thick with heat, a suffocating mix of desire and something far more dangerous—an unspoken betrayal lingering beneath every touch, every gasp.

Elena had lost track of time, of where one body ended and another began. Sensations bled together, indistinguishable from one moment to the next. The lines between pleasure and manipulation blurred, each whisper, each press of lips against heated flesh sending her deeper into a haze. Leon's hands moved with practiced skill, pulling her under, unraveling her inhibitions like a puppeteer guiding his marionettes. And Katherine—Katherine had been just as lost, tangled up in the same heady storm, her moans mixing with Elena's until they were nothing but echoes of the same surrender.

But as the night waned, as their bodies finally gave in to exhaustion, reality slithered back in. The weight of what had transpired settled over Elena like a leaden shroud. The fevered heat had dissipated, leaving only the cold aftermath. She tried to move, but her limbs felt like they no longer belonged to her. The sheets were twisted, damp with sweat, and beneath her, the mattress bore silent witness to the night's sins.

She blinked slowly, her mind a haze of sensation and half-formed thoughts. A dull ache throbbed between her thighs, a lingering testament to the hours before. And then, awareness crept back in—the sticky warmth still clinging to her skin, the scent of sex heavy in the air. It was undeniable, inescapable.

Elena barely registered the shifting weight beside her, the rustling of fabric as someone—Leon? Katherine?—stirred in the dim light. Her breath hitched, her stomach twisting. What had she done?

Leon watched with satisfaction as she gathered herself, preparing to return to the life she had known before.

But she wasn't the same.

Not anymore.

Elena's mind swam in a chaotic tide of satisfaction and guilt, her body still thrumming from the night's indulgences while a deeper ache gnawed at her conscience. Every nerve in her body hummed with the aftershocks of Leon's touch, the way he had commanded her, consumed her, and tied her so seamlessly to Katherine in a pleasure-drunk haze. She had never experienced anything like it—never been so thoroughly wrecked, so stripped of hesitation and restraint. And yet, beneath the lingering heat of it all, the memory of Stefan clawed at her, unrelenting.

Stefan. The man who had sworn to love her, to keep her safe. The man who had, once upon a time, been the center of her world.

A flicker of shame coiled in her chest, sharp and punishing. She could almost see his face, the quiet, brooding disappointment that would tighten his jaw, darken his gaze. He would never say it outright, never raise his voice or curse her for what she had done. That wasn't Stefan's way. He would simply look at her as if she had broken something sacred between them—something fragile that could never be pieced back together. And that thought should have devastated her.

It didn't.

Because deep beneath the surface, past the guilt and the weight of expectation, another truth simmered. A darker, more twisted realization.

Stefan wasn't just a man who loved her. He was a man who craved control, who teetered on the edge of his own monstrous nature every single day. A man who, had he been here—had he seen the way Leon ravaged her, the way she and Katherine had melted into one another—would have lost himself completely.

Elena's lips curled into the ghost of a smirk.

Because she knew Stefan.

And she knew, without a doubt, that he would have watched. He would have devoured the scene with hungry, tortured eyes, torn between his love for her and the sickness that lurked beneath his carefully maintained mask. He would have hated himself for wanting it, for needing it. But he wouldn't have turned away.

That thought alone sent a slow, shameful heat curling through her once more.

She had betrayed him tonight.

But deep down, she suspected he would have liked it.

"I'm late… I have to be at the dance." she spoke, as if asking permission to leave.

"Get dressed and go down stairs. Vanessa should be waiting." Leon spoke casually. 

He then whispered to Katherine and she used her speed to vanish in a moment.

And as she left to meet her boyfriend, the undeniable truth weighed heavy between her thighs—spoiling her panties and sealing her fate. But, she didn't care, licking her lips in satisfaction as breathed in Leon's lingering scent.

She only came to when her eyes met Vanessa's, who was waiting in the kitchen with a smug smile. Elena rolled her eyes but the heavy blush, primal hair, and indulgent smile had said it all.

"You ready, lover girl?" Vanessa asked.

"Of course," Elena sang.

"I take it that Katherine's presence is a secret that we'll keep?" Leon spoke as he joined them.

"Absolutely. She's the one that Bonnie commanded on the night of the Bonfire." Elena replied.

Leon nodded and Elena was satisfied. That's all she had to know and it wasn't anyone else's business.

_____________________

As Katherine walked the street during her free night in town, her body exhausted, her mind tangled in a mess of contradictions she could barely process. She should have been used to this—being used, being played. It was nothing new. Men had wanted her, worshiped her, chased her to the ends of the earth, but it was never about her. It was always about control, about power, about possession. 

Leon was different. 

She had thought she understood him. He had used her, yes—but he had also protected her. He never chased her, never begged for her attention like the countless others who had fallen at her feet. He never promised her anything, never whispered sweet lies of devotion. He took what he wanted, made her feel like nothing more than a tool, a means to an end. And yet… she had never felt safer than in his grasp. 

That terrified her. 

And what made it worse—what truly unsettled her—was the way he had looked at Elena. 

Katherine had always been able to manipulate her doppelgänger's admirers, always found it amusing how easily they confused love with obsession. Every man who had ever looked at Elena had seen something fragile, something that needed to be cherished. But Leon? He saw something else. Something raw. Something that pulled at Katherine in a way she didn't want to admit. 

The bonfire had been the first time she had truly noticed it, the way Elena looked at him, the way he let her get close. It had sparked something ugly inside Katherine, a twisting envy she hadn't felt in centuries. She had spent her life running, surviving, bending the world to her will. But here, in this town, with no means to leave and no need to run, she had been forced to confront the one thing she had always avoided—her own feelings. 

She never expected to be with Leon like this. 

Never expected to be taken by him in the same breath as Elena, to be made to feel equally valued in a place where everyone would die for her doppelgänger. Everyone except Leon. 

That was what undid her. 

For once, since returning to Mystic Falls, she wasn't second to Elena. She wasn't a shadow, a temptation, a lesser version of the girl who bore her face. She was Katherine, and he had wanted her just the same, as she was. Not because she was a tool. Not because she was a means to an end. But because he could. Because he chose to. 

The realization lodged itself deep inside her, a dangerous, growing need that she couldn't shake. 

She wanted him. 

Not just for protection. Not just for survival. 

She wanted to be his. 

The defiance she once felt was slowly fleeing.

The thought sent a thrill down her spine, a feeling she had long since buried. And for the first time in centuries, she felt something terrifyingly close to submission. Not forced. Not manipulated. 

Chosen.