"It doesn't mean anything."
Warm lips ghosted down her spine, the occasional edge of teeth and Caroline shivered.
"If so say so, sweetheart," the languid indulgence in his voice irritated her. Blinking open hazy eyes, she tilted her head to look at him. Bare chested, hair in disheveled-curls, eyes lazy.
"Klaus."
He settled next to her, dominated the bed. Cool, bare skin was illuminated by the early morning light and the stark lines of his tattoos drew her eyes. Her fingertips chased edges of the birds, until he caught her hand.
"Don't make this more than it is." Caroline said stubbornly, ignoring the way her voice sounded a touch breathless. He dropped her hand and rolled to his knees. She stayed still, unwilling to move just yet.
"Sweetheart. The only part of this that means nothing is still hours away." He stroked a line down the back of her thigh with his knuckles, movements unhurried. "When you get up, dress yourself and walk away."
She frowned at him. "Is that what you think?"
"That's what I know." Klaus corrected, lips curving at her growing indignation. "In a few hours, you'll get dressed and go back to your friends. In a few weeks, a few months - you'll be back."
Leaning down, he dragged blunt teeth down her shoulder. "I'll be here. Waiting. And when you do show up - angry, sad, lonely, happy, it doesn't matter - we both know I'll fuck you senseless. Stroke the long lines of you until you purr, beguile you with blood and silk, tie you to my bed until we both bleed; so that moving is a distant thought, until the idea of leaving me, this bed, takes effort."
Caroline shuddered as he lightly kissed her shoulder.
"Same as this time. Same as the last. I run through your veins sweetheart." He lifted his head and dimpled at her. "What is leaving, compared to that?"
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