brightestlight | (no subject)

She'd been treating him like he was something fragile since he came back from Narnia. It had affected her more than she'd particularly wanted it to, even if she didn't realise it. Still, she was just careful, not raising her voice, not really talking back the way that she would have normally, asking if he was alright, bringing him blood-- Just those things that were ingrained that were Caroline Forbes is taking care of you. Any time it came to arguments, she ended up changing the subject or acquiecing-- which was obviously the sort of thing that was very unlike her.

And, unsurprisingly, Klaus didn't exactly appreciate it. Since she didn't realise she was doing it, she reacted badly to his looks that clearly said not to take care of him-- and she didn't know if it was because he didn't remember how sick he was, or how hard it was; she was constantly in a state of alertness because of it, and crabby besides, so when she sat cross-legged on the couch in the observation room and asked him how he was feeling, the look she got finally made her explode. "Okay, look, what the heck is your problem? I'm just being nice." And she's sort of on pins and needles, looking at him with furrowed brows and a frown.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Both of them are streaked with sweat, and when his fingers find her she gasps in his ear, and her hips shift faster as she tightens around him, her teeth finding that spot again before she murmurs in his ear. "I can't-" And when she says I can't, it's that she can't be patient anymore, that this is shifting from slow and deep to love like wildfire, her hips rolling on his, her nails trailing pink across his skin before her hands find his hair, and she's nearly shaking, her head tipped all the way back, baring her neck to him.

She can't, and he can, he has to, needs more depth and force and he can't get them that way, flipping them again so he's on top, his hand on the back of her neck to make sure he doesn't hurt her as he does so, at the speed he's going. And then he can push harder into her, covering her mouth with his to drink in the sound she makes when he does, his hand going back between them because he doesn't want to deny her this, he wants her there with him, and he'll do his best to hold off until she joins him.

She doesn't need his touch between her thighs- he flips them and he surges into her deeper, and she gasps wih a choked cry and she can't stop herself from tightening around him and losing herself against him. Her moan is lost in his mouth, high pitched, and she's pulling him closer to her, as close as she can.

Klaus drinks that in, all of her in this moment, cry and spasm, sweat and taste, and he makes sure to make it last for her, until she cries out in that way that means too much, and his hips are still moving. He pulls his hand back to lean on both elbows and get more leverage, and he can't kiss her anymore as he gives himself over to it completely, but he breathes against her mouth and his hips roll and push until his orgasm surges through him, mouthing her name against her lips with barely a breath, because he doesn't really have any left.

She whimpered against his neck, totally lost, overwhelmed, holding him close as she still slid through the golden feelings, nearly just as breathless. Her voice broke when she said his name, pulling him down on her, close to her, wanting to feel the weight of him. "Oh, God... I-" She nuzzled his throat, kissing his earlobe before she held him close.

Klaus doesn't need much encouragement to let her have his full weight; it isn't like he could crush her, and his brain isn't exactly functional, anyway, too sluggish for now. He buries his face in her neck to keep smelling her, sweat and sex and Caroline, and licks out for a taste of that salty sweet flavour of hers. He's breathing again, low and steady, and he's just letting himself bask, with her, for now.

"No matter what happens," she whispers sometime later- it could be three minutes, and or twenty, but she whispers it against his skin like a prayer, pressing tired kisses to his skin. "This. This is how I feel." She kissed his sweaty shoulder, not pulling away- if anything, shifting closer.

He moves, rolling them - more slowly than earlier, not even quickly for a human - so that he's on his back, grabbing a pillow to stick under his head, and she's cuddled up against him, his arm around her, holding her close, not going anywhere. "This is us," he answers, speaking against her forehead before he presses a kiss there, because there's no place for I's in a moment like this.

That is the first time she wonders if he might love her someday, long from now, when they leave this place. When she is a hundred, when he shows her a tiny gallery and she tells him that she loves him and he replies the same. She's not thinking about losing him, and she's not afraid as she kisses his neck. "It is us," she agrees, curling closer. Finally relaxing.