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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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.

Her breath is stuck in her throat, and she makes a strangled noise as she stares up at him, and she knows something is off, she can see it in his eyes before his forehead touches hers and her fingers slide through his hair, her voice hoarse and thick but still concerned. "What is it?" She's trying to hold still, but she flexes around him and she can't silence the tiny sound she makes even though she tries, but then he moves, and she gasps.

It's clear from the way she acts and sounds and responds that she is no blushing flower, she is not made of spun glass. She's got her nails in his lower back, and she doesn't know what she's asking for exactly when she breathes Please into his ear.

He's making her pant and beg and she's all twisted in knots, and she feels it happen, her face get hot and her fangs slip out. She doesn't want it because she thinks he'll stop and she's fighting it even as she doesn't want him to stop. They should have talked about it, she should be control -r-us, but all she'd been able to think about before she slips up is that she desperately wants to make him feel as good as she does, because this pretty much wins all he best sex awards. But now? She's just this mess of emotions and feelings and she begs, her voice low in his ear to keep her mind off of it, "Harder- please?"

Moving again is not his only answer to her question, there's that and a kiss and a whispered 'Nothing' against her lips that is supported by the way he slides in and out of her, hips rolling with each thrust. He's finding his balance and he thinks that he could do that for hours, too - introduce her to tantric sex - but he's fairly certain she won't have it, not now at least.

And then her face shifts, and his hips stutter, and it's a new wave of arousal that's just slammed through him. He's thankful for the pain in his lower back from her nails, because it's something else to focus on besides how good she feels and how much he wants to let his fangs drop and sink them into her neck.

"Go on," he tells her, eyes on her dark ones, and she's so fucking beautiful but he won't shift, because he knows what he's telling her, but he doesn't know if she would know what she's telling him, and he's never had to exercice so much control before. He tilts his head slightly to the side, so she can have at his neck, and then he thrusts in, sharper and harder than before, giving her exactly what she's asked for, and it's gorgeous and overwhelming and he thinks he might fang out unless she bites him, now.

She's pressing her cheek to his neck, and she's trying to lose herself in the feeling so she doesn't do it, so she isn't him and she doesn't let herself think Damon's name, not now, but she doesn't understand that Klaus is trying to get her to do it, to let go. She's gasping as he gives her what she wants, and it almost everything she wants but it's not enough- her control is slipping but she's not going to give in, and her legs tighten around his hips as she tries to force it away, tries not to hunger for him, and lose herself in what he's doing, not what she is.

"Caroline," he growls, when she doesn't, and he feels the shift, eyes wolf-golden now, fangs dropping, and her neck is right there and he could just - "Bite me," he gets out, voice low and demanding and desperate all at once, hips snapping punctuation onto the end of that, another sharp, hard thrust, and another, and - "Bite me," again, but with more steel to it, because otherwise he's biting her.

The movement of his hips is making her tremble, it's making her gasp and her nails rake up his back, and she can feel it, can feel herself getting closer, but then he says it, he says she should bite him and it all goes sideways because her face twists- and it's clear she's trying to fight it as she says, "But-" and then he says it again, growls it, those two words, and she makes the mistake of turning her head and his neck is there, it's in front of her and she can't stop, she's too young to have the control, too in the moment, too close to losing her grip on everything. She can't stop herself as she sinks her teeth into his neck, and she's ravaging his back and she can feel the sticky-slickness of blood on her fingers as she breaks the skin, but she's so close now. She's drinking from him, and she's desperate and she wants him to do something so she can reach that brass ring and just let go, but the warm blood in her mouth is somehow almost enough.

It's so much all at once, but it's pain he can focus on instead of his own hunger, even if a part of him knows that it'll be worse later, because of the blood loss, but for now it's enough, it's her fangs sharp in his neck and the pleasure with each buck of his hips, and he has just enough clarity that he slides a hand between them. His fingers are more rough than they usually would have been, because he has to focus on the pain in his neck that much so as not to lose it, and he hopes - prays - that she'll come quickly, not because he wants it over with, but because with each second it becomes more difficult to hold out, to hold on, to hold her and not bite.

She lets go, she lets go of whatever blockade she's holding onto and her mouth slips from his neck as she cries out, her mouth red with his blood, it smeared on her lips. She's trembling, and she thinks something that's wrong and ridiculous and she knows it's hormones and endorphines and she whimpers against his ear, her hands shaking as she skims them up his back, and his name- Oh, god, the way she says his name is saying way more than just his name. Its how she feels about him, how this is new and bright and fragile, but that she trusts him and maybe there's something else, the tiny spark that could eventually turn into something more.

She's overwhelmed, and she has her face pressed against his jaw, making a soft sound against his skin.