When the Moon Is Full and the Blood Drips Down
by Sandrine Shaw
Even if Klaus can change into a wolf at will, there's still something different about him during the nights of the full moon: something raw and wild, more predatory than ever but at the same time strangely vulnerable and in need of companionship.
He doesn't let Stefan out of his sight on those nights; he finds him victims to kill and stays close as Stefan takes them apart limb by limb until he's wading through a sea of red.
The guilt sets in afterwards as it always does, fast and inevitably, and Stefan tries his best not to let it show. A pointless feat. Klaus is far too observant to be fooled, far too attuned to Stefan's moods. He reaches out and swipes his thumb across Stefan's lips, wiping at the blood until his finger is coated crimson, and he keeps their eyes locked when he sucks the sticky sweet red away. Stefan wants to look away, he wants to ignore every last reminder of what he's done, but there's nowhere to turn to even if he had the strength of will to force his eyes elsewhere.
Klaus steps closer, impossibly close, until their bodies are almost touching and his breath brushes Stefan's face. He smells like blood and death, intoxicatingly sweet.
"My poor little ripper. Still hasn't learned how to properly enjoy himself." His lips ghost over Stefan's. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I'm sorry," Stefan chokes out, automatically on the defensive. But it's with some surprise that he realizes that he means it. There's a part of him that wants to be exactly as Klaus would have him: vicious and remorseless, with no guilt or memories holding him back.
He catches Klaus's mouth with his, chasing the taste of blood on his tongue. It's too desperate and fleeting to even be called a kiss, and yet it's enough to make Stefan more light-headed than drinking from the dead girl at their feet.
Klaus smiles with his teeth showing. "Don't worry, love, we'll get you there yet."
End.