Love Bites
by adlyb
Pairing: Klaus/Elena
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through season 4 of TVD
Warnings: Explicit sex, excessive bloodplay, angst, more angst, depression, canon-typical violence
Disclaimer: I own nothing except these words.
A/N: Just a short little holiday project. Daily small updates until finished.
The thing of it is, this is supposed to be straightforward. The girl has werewolf venom in her veins, and his blood is the only cure. He wants the girl to live, so that he can make her alive again. That should be it.
For some reason, he offers her his blood directly from his wrist.
It's hardly as though he's never done this before. He's enjoyed this particular activity many, many times, as it were in point of fact. It's just that he's never done this with a woman in possession of that face.
So it is that Klaus has to grit his teeth against the feeling of Elena Gilbert's fangs pressing into his wrist as she drinks hungrily from his exposed vein. The tip of one of her razored canines scrapes against his ulna. The sensation sends shivers down his spine. The newborn predator beneath her skin senses it, growls against his wrist and yanks him closer. His cock twitches in his jeans.
Taken with the brazenness of the girl, with her face that he has dreamed of for a millennium and with her blood-smeared lips and sharp white teeth, he allows himself to be spooled in closer. The ease of his acquiescence to her appetite gives him pause. He had come here ready to secure an asset. Strictly speaking, he's already accomplished that. A cursory glance reveals her color to have improved and the sweating sickness to have abated. Really, they should have finished long seconds before. But he is, quite unexpectedly, finding himself enjoying this rather a lot. Any desire to keep this purely transactional deserts him completely as she draws him close to her.
Behind him, Stefan peers over his shoulder, carefully monitoring, assuring himself that this is purely clinical. It's not. The girl's not even in her right mind, her brain probably already half way to fevered mush, and still Klaus can feel this situation spiraling out of his control.
Elena moans against him, her breath hot against his flesh. The vague desire stirring within him sharpens abruptly into a bolt of raw lust.
He really has never had any carnal designs upon her in the past. True, he'd been attracted to her, in the days leading up to the sacrifice and most especially when he finally, finally held her in his arms for what he'd assumed to be the final embrace. And there had been the memorable shock of seeing her alive again, and a few odd episodes wherein she had impressed him with her bravery and her machinations that looked a lot like honor but was really just brutal survival. And he can never forget her face—no, that face is like a curse, slipping itself into his mind and molding itself to his every susceptibility even when he would rather forget about it.
But he hasn't lain awake at night thinking of Elena, eager for their next duel, or even lingering too much on all the small conflagrations between them in the past. He's never thought of her too much at all, save for how he might use her. It's why he finds it so shocking that he really does desire her.
She tugs hungrily on his arm and he wants very much to surrender to the sensation of her. But surrender—he can never do that.
He takes the opportunity to reestablish his dominance over her when he settles on the bed next to her. His superior strength keeps her pinned against him as she eagerly takes what she needs from him and more. Her mouth sucks at his wrist, and he watches her throat work as his ancient blood, potent beyond imagining, pours into that singularly bewitching body.
At the foot of the bed, Stefan paces. Were it anyone else in the room, Klaus might find the third presence a trifling inconvenient. As it is merely Stefan, his wayward brother, but a brother all the same, he finds himself mostly able to forgive the intrusion. He pushes him out of his mind.
Klaus soothes a strand of hair back from Elena's face while she nurses against his wrist, her tongue prodding into the wound to keep it open. His fingers tighten in her hair.
He could probably have her after this. She'll be wild out of her mind, high on his blood, eager to do anything he asks of her.
"She's done, Klaus," Stefan breaks in before Klaus can think what to do with the blood-addled girl in his arms.
Elena ignores her lover. Her teeth clamp against Klaus's bone, her hands like claws curling around his hand and arm. If any other fledgling vampire had dared cling to him so limpet-like, he would take her arm off. He's done it before, more than once.
But in this case, he finds himself, reluctantly, prying her off of him. Elena settles back against the mounds of pillows piled high in Stefan's bed with an empty, blissed-out look upon her face. "I think she's overcooked," Klaus comments as, with great restraint, he steps away. He turns to Stefan. "You'd do well to keep her out of further danger. Should any harm come to her, I'll take it as a personal mark against you."
Stefan grabs his arm. "What do you mean by that? What interest could you possibly have in her now?"
Klaus throws him a smirk designed to rattle him. "I think we'll leave that little revelation for another time."
Behind them, Elena calls out. "Stefan?"
Predictable though it is, he finds himself uncharacteristically annoyed.
His head clears as soon as he is out of the room. Without the tactile experience of Elena, without the feel of her fangs in him and the sensation of his blood and power passing into her and the needy way she'd moaned against his skin, he finds himself unable to say what it was about her that had affected him so.
Really, he much prefers Miss Forbes.
Because tasting the girl on a whim would unnecessarily complicate things. Better to simply cure the girl and get on with building his army of hybrids.
He resolves then, as he lets himself into the empty mansion he'd built in hopes of at last residing there with his family, that he would put his momentary attraction to doe-eyed Elena out of his mind entirely.
And really, he does.
He does not realize that this lapse is not the only time, but rather what he will later come to think of as the first time.
A/N: Hmm so this isn't actually the fun holiday project I hinted at last week, this is the angst that I started writing instead. The other project is still to come, and will probably start arriving the moment this is finished.
Thanks for reading. More to come tomorrow.
