brightestlight | (no subject)

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klaus mikaelson

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Are you coming over?

It's the text that makes her chew on her lip, that makes her type four answers and delete them and then type again and then delete that, because it's not so simple as yes or no, and she's spent the last four hours going what am I doing and being weirdly girl-power-self-affirming because she's making a choice for herself, but then wondering what the hell Bonnie and Elena would say, and then wondering what Tyler would do, but she's not thinking about Tyler, because she's not letting her think about Tyler, because- because. Because she's not. Because she doesn't love Klaus, she loves Tyler, but this thing she's got isn't dating, and-

And it's sort of crazy. Of course it's crazy.

But he sends her a text asking her if she's coming over, and she starts tearing through her clothes after she goes back and forth, but she just sort of gives up, and ends up in leggings and a t-shirt that's belted like a dress and flipflops, but she's got makeup on and she's trying to balance between not looking like she tried too hard or too much, and looking nice.

It's a delicate line, and as she's walking to his room, she walks halfway, and then turns around and walks back, and then stopped again, turning back, because she's going to do this, and when she gets to his room, she hesitates but the door's open and she's got a pillow under her arm because it's hers and she just goes in. "I'm spending the night," she informs him, and she looks at him like What're you going to do about it? and she sort of flops into one of his chairs, folding up her feet, like she wasn't here like six hours ago.

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Eventually, though, he has to pull free, otherwise he might keep kissing her all night, so the kiss breaks, and he just breathes against her lip, but then he can't help himself - or won't - and he's kissing her again, still between her legs, and he's kissing her again like she's the only thing in the world that matters, but it isn't the heat of the moment anymore, it's a kiss that is a lot more real. it's more than wanting her, it doesn't have that urgency to it, it's just them and, as far as he's concerned, it's so much better that way.

The kiss is sweet and long and deep in a way that's not I'm going to find your tonsils, and it makes Caroline melt, it makes her meet the kiss, her hands touching him wherever she can - touching and just skimming, her fingertips featherlight until the kiss breaks again, and she stares up at him. "Hey," She says again, but now it's not half a question, it's not a Are you okay, it's a soft, half-breathed greeting, her lips curving into a slow, sweet smile as she toys with one of his auburn curls, her eyes searching his even though she doesn't know what she's looking for.

"Hey," he answers, his own lips quirking up into a small smile, fingers in her hair, and he kisses her again, softer, briefer, and back to himself now. His neck prickles with pain, but he doesn't mind. Any time now he's going to move and go get himself some blood from the replicator, but not just yet. For now he's happily to just look down at Caroline, and it might be weird to just be looking into her eyes, but it doesn't feel weird.

"You okay?" She asks it softly, the question not really worried - she's a little too blissed out right now to be worried, even though they're both pretty much covered in blood at this point and she can smell it but she's pretty okay right now - because she's staring up at him, and she can't stop the smile on her lips, and him staring into her doesn't seem weird at all, because she's doing the same.

She leans up to kiss him again, briefly, before--

"I messed up your back," she said softly, and it was more sheepish than regretful. "Sorry?"

Klaus can't help it; he laughs. It's not mockery, it's genuine amusement, and he kisses her again for that. He's bleeding from the neck, and she's worried about a few scratch marks on his back. "I think I'll survive." Besides, they still heal faster than humans. It will all be gone come morning - the scratch marks and the bruises he owes Nuada, at least. The bite marks will probably last a little longer, but eventually they would fade away as well.

She laughs too, rolling her eyes. She's not talking about his neck because she needs to not think about his neck, about the blood that's covering them both, and she leans up to kiss him again, almost as a distraction.

"We should shower, and you should eat," she says quietly, because she knows it'll help, of course it'll help, and then she won't have to worry about it, because right now sort of everything smells like blood. She doesn't know if this will continue, if this sort of thing was their lives, now, or not - but right now she likes it.

And-- "It's good, right?" She asks it softly, because she still bit him, he still turned away, and even though he finished, she just wants to make sure he's okay, that he's.... good.

"We're good," he answers, a smile lingering on his lips from the laugh, and the kiss, but he is serious, and 'we' matters so much more than 'it'. It is too vague. They're good, and that's what matters. "It's alright, or I wouldn't have told you to."

There's a lot more than that to it, but right now they're basking, and he doesn't feel like getting into it right then and there. They can move and go shower and he can feed in a little while. Not just yet.

"I like it when you smile like that," she says softly, staring up at him, even though - yeah, it's a little weird now because she's still trying not to think about the blood, and she glances down at his mouth and her brows furrow for just a moment - she's thinking about what she did, that she bit him, and how much she'd been trying not to, because- because of things that happened way before he knew her, and she swallows as she decides that she's not going to think about Damon, and he asked her to bite him, he told her too, so it's different.

"So this is a thing, now?" She ventures the question, changing the subject. "I mean, this... isn't a one-time deal?" Because... honestly, she wouldn't mind if it was a thing.

It's an oddly touching thing to say, and Klaus isn't sure everybody told him that before. He doesn't really know what to reply, so when she asks her question... at least he knows what to say to that.

"This is whatever you want it to be, love," Klaus tells her, and his lips quirk up into another small smile. "Although I must admit I'd be more than a little disappointed if it were just the one time." He moves, to her side, so he can lie on his back and tug her towards him, hoping she'll wind up half on top of him. He's stopped bleeding, he knows that much, even if it still itches like a little bitch.

She doesn't end up half on top of him, she ends up totally on top of him, sliding over him so she's lying on him, and she doesn't show the care he does about her body weight, but she bends to kiss him again, and it's a little more deep then she means it, and if she's super honest, super-duper honest, she likes it when he touches her, and she'd not say no if his hands move up and touch her skin again, because Caroline's sort of into that. The touching and kissing and sweet things and just being close, and her eyes are a little darker as she kisses him, nipping his bottom lip.

"I don't know what it is," she murmurs, but she's not pulling away in the slightest. "But I'm okay with figuring it out later." She pauses, and she stares into his eyes again, and for one moment she's thinking of Tyler and Matt and Damon, and her brows furrow as she takes a deep breath because this is so different, and she's glad for it, but it makes it so that she can't neatly label it and shove it into a box.

"We're both gross," she murmurs against his lips again, not because they're disgusting, but she hates feeling like she's on the edge of something. Like she'll bite him, but she shouldn't bite him - that's ridiculous because it's not like he's alive, and that's a whole 'nother thing, and she exhales and it's a little unsteady.

It's a good thing, because he loves to touch her, too, and the second she moves towards him, his arm wraps around her waist, and his other hand is trailing fingers up and down her kiss, absent-mindedly, because that's just what he does, naturally. And her answer works for him, really, and he can't really nod with the way he's lying, so it's jut a tiny tilt of his head and the look in his eyes that tells her that, that tell hers it's just fine by him, and she can take her time.

"Yes," he says, eventually, to her latest remark. He doesn't really think they're gross, but they're certainly not clean, and there's an edge of discomfort in her, so she gets a yes, not to their grossness, but to what's behind it. "Come on," he tells her, and gives her bum a soft tap, the look on his face making it clear he's just baiting, teasing her, waiting for her reaction to that one. "Let's go hit the shower."

She rolls her eyes as he tells tells her that they're going to shower like it's his idea and she hasn't been mentioning it over and over for the last five minutes, but whatever - and now she's shy, now when she slips off of him she's not wasting time as she heads into the bathroom because she knows he'll be behind her probably once he grabs something to eat, and it's not like he's not seen it and way more than that, but she's just- Caroline's a little self conscious because of all of those stupid things that she knows are stupid. Like, she could be thinner and taller and all sorts of things and it's not something she's going to acknowledge, because she knows it's stupid, but there you go. She's in the bathroom and he's behind her or not behind her and that's fine, because she's turning on the hot water and she doesn't know if they are showering or if she's showering and he's showering, but, well. There you go.

She's in the bathroom and he's behind her, because he can grab something to eat afterwards, unless she's going to tell him she'd rather shower on her own. So he's behind her and he's definitely looking at her, all of her, and there's not an ounce of anything not deep appreciation written on his face, shining in his eyes. He's enjoying the sight alright, because she's beautiful, and she has some curves, not like the anorexic models all the rock stars are dating these days.

He steps in behind her in the shower, heedless of the spray of hot water, and pulls her hair back to kiss the side of her neck. It's genuine affection, and it's something more - something about how close he came to losing control, and this is reaffirming that he is in control. The spray is washing some of the blood away, water tainted with red as it hits the tiles, and it's the most natural thing in the world to turn her around in his arms and to kiss her again, with how beautiful she is.

Okay, so she's not actually expecting him to follow her, and he does, and he's right there and she can't stop the way she looks surprised but it's not like she's complaining, her cheeks tinged red with a blush, but her eyes sort of droop closed when he kisses the side of her neck, because apparently - apparently right there is a spot, and she makes that tiny sound she'd made in the beginning, and then he's kissing her, and she's leaning up on tiptoes under the water, and the kiss isn't exactly what she should be doing, because they're supposed to get clean and she's pulling back.

Because clean. And soap. "Sorry," she murmurs with a soft laugh, ducking her head as her hair sticks to her skin, and she's pulling back enough to grab a washcloth, and that's when she does see his back, and she just sort of stops, and yeah, his neck is his neck, and she knows that, but seriously, it's not just scratches, and she's trying to find the right words and they just don't come.

Klaus is oblivious for a moment, because he's tipping his head into the spray and slicking his hair back under the hot water, eyes closed. His neck and back itch and prickle even more with the water, but he's growing familiar with long-lasting pain again, because it wasn't something he really remembered, but it's not completely unwelcome. It's new, even if it's unpleasant, and it was worth it, and those two things make it okay.

But then he looks back down and at her and there's something there, something that has her upset, although he doesn't know what kind of upset or why. "What's wrong?" he asks her gently, with a slight frown.

"Your back," she says quietly, and she looks lost. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Her eyes flick up to his, and she's not okay with it, because they're not light scratches, they're gouges and she did that. She did that. "I don't- I mean, I don't even eat people, you know?" She swallows hard, and she looks up at him again. "I didn't mean too, I swear."

"It's alright," he assures her, and cups her face, hoping she'll let him. "There's nothing you can do to me that I wouldn't let you." That is the absolute truth. He might be weakened, but he is still stronger than her. He knows that, not because he has tried it, but because he trusts that it is true. Either way, he knows that any time, he could have tried to stop her, and he didn't. That is what matters. "You didn't do anything to me that I didn't let you."

Her hand came up to cover one of his hands on her cheek, her eyes searching his, clearly distressed. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispered, licking her lips, both of them soaked from the shower. She had been trying not to bite him, and her eyes slid from his face to his neck, and she reached to very, very gently touch next to the raw wound, the pink streaks in rivulets down his chest, and she was breathing quickly, too quickly, and she shook her head. "I don't- This is- I don't want to hurt you." And it was a bigger thing than him, and she wasn't going to melt down in the shower, but he needs to know that she doesn't mean to hurt him, that she tried not to.

She drags her eyes from his neck, to lean up and kiss him, and it's not a kiss that's an apology, it's not tentative and worried, it's just emotion, and the two of them - it's like they're drunk on it, and tonight--

Tonight was tonight, and in the light of dawn it might be different, but she kissed him under the pouring water, her hand catching his waist, to pull him against her.

Klaus lets her pull him close, thumb brushing her cheekbone as they kissed, but eventually he pulls back, but keeps his forehead against hers. "This is nothing, Caroline. I'm fine. It'll all be gone come morning."

His hand has caught hers, and he brings her fingers back to the wound in his neck, controlling his expression well enough to hide the flicker of pain when they reached it. "This is alright. It made it all better - for you and for me."

"But it's not better. It's-" And she doesn't say it, but she just shakes her head, and then pulls her hand away, curling close against him, her temple against his jaw. "I don't want to be that person." Because of reasons she wasn't going into, because of a lot of things, because she knew what it was like and she didn't want to be that person.

"Can we not talk about this?" She said it quietly, not pulling away, just letting the steaming water run over them both like it'd carry away the problem, too.

Klaus thought that they ought to, that it wouldn't go away for not talking about it, but for now, well, for now... "For now," he agreed, or compromised, really, between what she wanted and what he did. But they would talk about it, because she had to accept who she was - what she was.

The steaming water wouldn't carry any of the problem away.

She accepted what he gave her, and she curled closer to him, which wasn't getting either one of them clean, and she had to force herself back, looking down as she grabbed the washcloth, not really wanting to look up at him. Not now. Not- Her thoughts were heavy, and even though they shouldn't be, they were.

She should be sort of up and happy and man, great sex, but... not so much. She thought - only for a moment - about going home, until she realised it'd make him feel awful and bad, and so she set her shoulders, mostly just expecting to go to bed after this.

"Caroline," he calls her, softly, because she is so far away, and he can feel it, he knows it, somehow. "Let me," he requests, his hand wrapping around her washcloth. He wants to be the one to wash her, less because of the symbol, although that, too, and more because he just doesn't want her to close in on herself.

"I'm okay," she said, her smile small, but when he took the washcloth, she let it go. "Really, I'm clean and everything." She shrugs one shoulder, but she makes the mistake of glancing at his shoulder and she looks away, biting her lips together. Does it hurt? she nearly asks, but she swallows the words, forcing that smile.

"You know," she says after a second, and her voice is bright. "Someday, I will officially stop being so weird about stuff. You need to wash your hair." She leans past him to grab the shampoo, and holds it out to him with raised eyebrows, expectant. Because there's only so many ways she can change the subject and deflect, but she will try them all.

"As long as you don't stop being you," he murmurs, and the washcloth is now full of soap and running over her skin. It isn't about her being clean, it's about contact and keeping it going, no matter how much he wants to get out of there and drink something.

When she holds up the shampoo, though, he sighs, but with a smile, because he's about to humour, and he puts the cloth away to grab the shampoo, tilt his head back and pour some on his hair, quickly rubbing it in.