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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Once he knows he's got her, he pulls back, and he finds it in himself to smile, as if he didn't want to keep on kissing her until they both stop breathing, because it's just a reflex with them, it's not like they could die of asphyxiation. But he smiles, and brushes her hair back from her face, and only then kisses her again, softer, warmer by opposition to hotter.

"Now," he tells her, holding her gaze, "now you want it like I want it."

It's not a smug thing, it's not a point he's making, or if it is it's about emotions and balance, not about being right or proving anything. Because sex can just be sex, but if he's going to have sex with her, then he's going to make love to her, and it shouldn't ever be anything close to second best.

Caroline stared up at him, her eyes dark and vulnerable, and she makes a noise when he kisses her again, warm and sweet. "Klaus.." She breathed his name, and it's sort of a question, but she moves closer and she leans up to kiss him again, slow and drugging. It's weird, because this isn't fun, and it's not angry and it's not hormones- and she thinks this is the first time it's been this way ever for her, and her hands slip into his hair and she's giving herself into it, her hand slipping down onto his chest again. "I want this," she whispers against his lips, before she breaks the kiss to skim her mouth down his jaw to his neck, when she breathes his name get again.

The words he wanted to hear, and the look he wanted to see in her eyes, the sound of her breath, the desire behind it all and the feelings that come with it, mirroring the state he was in last night, with that thing inside that is inevitably drawing them together, and he pulls her into his lap as she kisses him, a hand in the small of her back, the other behind him to lean on. His hands slides up her back to push his fingers into her hair when she kisses his neck, and when she hits that particular spot he moves in a heartbeat, with all the speed he's still capable of, turning them over so she's on her back on the bed, and he's over her and kissing her again.

She breathlessly laughs when he flips them, and it's not because it's funny but because it's wonderful and she runs her thigh against his hip. She kisses him sweetly, then deeper, delicate fingers tugging up the back of his shirt to both get it off and because she wanted to touch his skin.

But she's not letting him control everything, and she flips them if he lets her so she's straddling his hips, and she ducks her head, her tongue skimming that spot on his neck, a low sound in her throat that was close to his name.

He lets her, of course he lets her. This isn't about domination or power, this is about them, and in just under a second he's shirtless and on his back, her warm hands on his chest, his on her waist, following the belt that cinches her waist and he makes a noise when she finds that spot, that one spot that makes his hips rise slightly, and she can have no doubt about exactly how into her he is just then. He makes a noise that's almost a moan but mostly a sigh, and his hands find her belt buckle and undo it, throwing the belt off the edge of the bed to follow his shirt, and he can finally get his hands under her t-shirt and onto her skin.

She whimpers when he shifts under her, and she grinds her hips down against him, feeling him hard against her and she kisses him before she shifts down. Caroline sucks a mark on that spot on his neck before moving down, pressing a trail of biting kisses down his chest then further down, her fingers skimming his waistband before she asked quietly. "Let me?"

She didn't know if he'd let her, but she wanted to make this good, and she wanted to see what he was like when he lost control.

"Caroline, love," he smiles at her, and she's beautiful, and she's offering, and he might be a thousand years old but he's still a guy, and yet he tugs her back up, if she'll follow, "we've got plenty of time. C'mere." He's leaned up on one elbow, his other hand tugging on the sleeve of her t-shirt, because there's no rush, and they're only just starting.

She follows, but her brows knit, and she says quietly- "But-" And then she stops, and her cheeks are burning because she's embarrassed, and she ducks her head, so very self-conscious where she was not before. "I want this to be good for you," she says, and it's a whisper against his skin, because her forehead's almost against his shoulder - she's hiding, even if she doesn't want to admit it.

"What," he starts, but interrupts himself, because she's not looking at him, so he puts a finger to her chin and tilts her head up so she does, and only once he has her gaze does he ask, "what makes you think this won't be good for me if we take our time?"

Once a first time was over, it could never be relived, and it was much too precious to squander away. His hand cups her face, and he kisses her with a smile. "Humour me, love. I swear I'll make it worth your while."

"Because-" And she feels dumb saying it, and she's staring into his eyes, and she bites her lips together as her voice lowers. "Because this- I mean, I love it, but... for you?" And she's so red, and she doesn't pull away from his hands but she's so embarrassed and earnest that she thinks he's not going to like what they're doing unless it involves more direct means. Or - he'll like it, but that doesn't mean it will be good. Not the same sort of good.

"If you're telling me you couldn't feel how much I love it as well thirty seconds ago, I'm going to feel offended," he points out with a half-smile, to try and pull the embarrassment away from her. He kisses her again, thumb stroking her cheekbone, and he thinks that Tyler really didn't deserve her, if she still viewed sex like this. "We're going to take our time, and it'll be so much better for it. For both of us. Trust me, love."

"I trust you," she murmurs, and she leans in to kiss him again, sweet and slow and it's not about sex but about him, about the sort of guy who'd turn that sort of stuff down not because he doesn't like it but because he wants to spend more time with her, and she makes a low noise in her throat, one that's sort of shy, but she is pouring herself into the kiss and her arms end up slipping around his neck. Kissing, she can do. Kissing--

She likes kissing. Always have, always will, and embarrassed or not, it makes her feel good.

There, better, and he welcomes that kiss and can feel her relaxing in it, which would make him smile if he wasn't busy kissing her. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, a happy smile, but he's kissing her again the next moment, and making a noise into the kiss that is very purposeful, a noise that means yes, see, we could do this for hours and I would love it. He means that as literally as possible, and he's still leaning up on the one elbow, and his other hand is under her t-shirt, sliding over the soft skin of her back to settle there, fingertips playing with the bumps of her spine.

She kisses him like he's what she's been looking for, and when he makes that noise she can't help but make one in response, can't help but move her hips against his - she's still in his lap, and the slow roll of her hips has her trembling, just slightly, when things rub the right way and she's so his she can barely take it.

She pulls back, her eyes half-lidded as she bites her lip, and she repeats herself from last night, and she's sober and there's nothing stopping him. "I want you to touch me," she whispers, and then she's kissing him again, losing herself in it.

And he will, oh, he will, he wants more of that tremble she had when she shifted, and he's already painfully hard inside his jeans but it doesn't matter, kissing her with his acceptance, and his agreement, and the reciprocity of his feelings. "I will," he tells her against her lips, and kisses her again, pushing her back so he can sit up by pushing up on his arm, and now he can use both his hands and push her t-shirt up, breaking the kiss to pull it over her head. Her bra's a flimsy flesh-coloured lace thing, and her breasts are gorgeous, and he's looking into her eyes as he brushes the back of his curled fingers over the curve of one, and he wants her so much it hurts, but he's going to make the most of it, and appreciate all of her beauty, leaning in slowly for another kiss as he shifts his hand to gently cup her breasts, feeding a sound into the kiss.

Caroline shivers as he touches her, goosebumps running up her arms- it's just the back of his hand but she pulls in a breath with a little squeak and she shivers again as she tips her hips right as she feels that hot liquid pull in her belly, kissing him back. Her breath kept starting and stopping, her nails skimming down his chest even as her other hand was lost in his hair. She can't sit still, can't stop moving her hips slowly against him. She does tremble again, but whenever it happens it's brief because it's still too many clothes between them but every once in a while it's just right. "Please," she whispers when the kiss breaks, and she doesn't know what she's pleading for, but she's kissing down his neck, sucking another mark onto his skin before she kisses across the coiled muscle of his shoulder.

His ribs still smart where there is a bruise spreading over them, whenever he doesn't hold himself right, but he doesn't really care. Pain is just something that happens but has no bearing on this, on them, and after saying "Yes," to her "Please," he hisses softly when she sucks a mark on his neck, kissing the curve of her breast since that's where his mouth ends up. His hands slide across her skin, because even when he has a goal in mind he's going to appreciate getting there, until they find the clasp of her bra and unhook it. The way she keeps moving on top of him is sweet torture he never wants to stop, and he pull her bra straps down her arms and sends the bra in the same direction as the rest of their clothes, a hand spread on her stomach before it slides over to her waist, the other one cupping her breast before he licks over her nipple, his eyes on hers, intent on figuring out everything that makes her moan and gasp and tremble.

The bruise is the sort of thing she'll notice later, that she'll wonder why she didn't see it sooner and probably feel bad- but right now, she's shifting up and away enough that her bra's off and she only has about three seconds to feel self conscious before he ducks his head and she can feel the line of his tongue that goes right to between her thighs. Her whimper is tiny and high pitched, and she doesn't care that she's sort of up on her knees so he doesn't have to bend except that it means that she can't keep rolling her hips against his, but her head tips forward as she bites her lip- and that he's watching her, that his eyes are on hers even as he moves against her skin, she can barely handle it. She sighs, and it's in pleasure, her hand lost in his hair.

Her nails skim back up his chest, leaving slightly pink trails behind, not hard enough to do anything but just feel. But then, when his mouth finds her breast they dig into his shoulder just a bit. "Klaus..." And she wants to sort of desperately fix how overdressed they both are, and she doesn't know how long she can keep this up, keep touching without doing, before she dies, but she'll figure it out.

Edited 2012-06-07 16:42 (UTC)

Better yet, they'll figure it out, and the bite of her nails into his shoulder gets her a playful graze of his teeth over her nipple, and she's responding so beautifully to him. His name on her lips sounds like a prayer, a promise, and he moves to her second breast, a hand trailing her spine, sliding along the slight arch of her back, but then he wants to kiss her too much, mouth moving off her breast as his hand goes to her nape to bring her back down to his level for a heated kiss. That involves her moving back down and more contact than they had been having and he makes a hungry noise into the kiss, and they really are overdressed, and really should do something about that.

He flips them over, breaks the kiss and smiles at her before he kisses his way down her stomach, fingers hooking in the waistband of her leggings to pull them down, and her knickers, as he goes, the trail of his kisses moving down her leg , trying to map the spots that have the most effect on her.

She laughs breathlessly as he flips them - it's a change from her gasps and soft sounds that were from his teeth, from the kiss. It's clear from the way she shivers that the teeth feel good, but they both know that's not something that can go further.

Her fingers are in his hair as he moves down, her nails scraping his scalp as she arches up to help him get her leggings off, and there are spot like his neck and he finds a few- on her stomach, right by her belly button, then there's a spot on her calf just under her knee that makes her toes curl ans squirm and she doesn't know why. This isn't all about her, its them, and that's why if he doesn't shuck off his jeans she's sitting up to help him with them. She's blushing more than she should, but if he's not going to mention it, neither is she.

Klaus isn't going to mention it, and he wasn't about to get rid of his jeans just yet, but then apparently it's happening, because Caroline wants it to, and there's no reason not to. So he lets her unbuckle his belt and pull open his fly, and he's kissing her again before he pulls away, has to to get the jeans and boxers off. There's not a hint of self-consciousness to him as he moves back to her, finding her mouth and kissing for a long few seconds, a hand traveling over her skin like he'll never get tired of it as they lay back down on the bed. The kiss breaks and he looks at her, all of her, just looks and smiles and tells her, "You're beautiful," in a way that's different to usual, a way that is so much more, before he's kissing her again, and one of his thighs slides between hers, evidence of his arousal resting against her hip.

That's what makes her blush so much, the looking, and even though she's hardly some virgin (frankly, she's not been for a couple of years and she's mostly got a pretty good sex life if you ask her) there's something weird about this that makes her self concious. It's like when he says that she's beautiful- like that, no hesitation, no nothing- it makes her want to crawl somewhere and hide, but she doesn't because she wants to be with him. She moans when his thigh presses against her, when she finally gets some sort of contact, and she's obviously just as into this as he is.

The kiss has changed to something needy, the sound that slips into his mouth is not quite a whine but close. She pulls back, staring up at him. "I know you want to wait, and that's mostly okay, but I feel like if I have to wait more I'm going to die," she says it with raised eyebrows, and she looks a little more puppy-eyes then she means to, but she flexes her hips without thinking, and she makes a choked sound in her throat, her teeth digging into her lip.

The way she puts it makes his lips quirk up, eyes shining warm with amusement. "And we wouldn't want that." Especially when she is already making that kind of sound, and he wants more of them. He smiles, and kisses her, but briefly so that he can move, so he's properly between her legs and he's kissing her again, leaning on the one arm so he can line himself up, and he's looking at her as he rubs against her to spread her folds, and how wet she is makes him die to push in, but since he's rubbing against her clit he keeps at it a little longer, but not too long. Before she has to ask again, he is pushing inside of her, slowly, because he wants to feel every inch of her enveloping him in her perfect warmth, and they're not kissing but their breaths are mingling in what little space there is between their lips, hot on hot, and this time it's him saying her name like it's a prayer, Caroline...

Her voice catches in her throat as he kisses her, and then he's there and her thigh slides up his hip, her foot skimming the back of his calf. She thinks that this is it, that she'll get what she wants, that all of these things they've been doing are coming to culmination - but he teases her, he makes her squirm and gasp her nails raking up his shoulder harder than before.

And then finally, finally he shifts and she can feel him, and she can't stop the low, gasping, almost hiccuping moan, and he says her name and she's leaning up to kiss him, brief and needy as her leg slips around his hips and she flexes up against him. "Oh God," she murmurs, her eyes searching his.

"Not God," he assures her with a hint of a smile, there and then gone, but his voice is hoarse and strained and it's all he can do not to move straight away. His pupils are a little dilated, and his gaze is a little off, a little dazed, like he's a little beside himself, and that's exactly it, because usually he controls himself, and it's difficult right this moment. He ends up closing his eyes, his brow against hers, and just breathing for a few seconds, because he has to take a break, to focus on the sensations and make them a part of him instead of something that throws him. Eventually he kisses her, again, longer, and he starts moving, slow, deep thrusts that make him feel like his whole world is rocking with each one, and he's focused on her with everything he's got, because he doesn't know what she likes yet, and he wants to figure it out.