This is a sequel to my other fic Extra Credit. It will be a series of outtakes, not necessarily in chronological order. You can request them on my tumblrs (thetourguidebarbie and onyourkneescaroline).

Thank you for the lovely reviews, follows, and favorites to EC, and I hope you enjoy this.

Dedicated to she-walked-away, accidental-rambler, megansarah11, and howeverlongs (who made the beautiful cover).

When Klaus walked in the front door, he'd expected to see Caroline curled up in the armchair by the window with a textbook, as she usually was, but by the smell wafting through the air and the sound of bubbling liquid, he could tell she was in the kitchen.

He set his laptop bag on the floor next to the door as fast as he could without actually dropping it, and walked to the kitchen, hoping that it was early enough to rescue whatever she was attempting to make.

Caroline was an excellent baker, but cooking was, for some reason, an entirely different matter.

She was in one of his shirts, flannel pajama shorts peeking out from under the hem, and her hair was slightly mussed, as though she'd been sleeping. Or perhaps just lying down.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said when he walked in, his hand moving to rest against the small of her back as he peered over her shoulder into the pot, relaxing when he saw that it was just pasta. "Are you all right?"

"Can we talk?" she asked abruptly, turning off the burner and facing him, her hands pressed lightly to his chest.

"Of course," he said, and she pushed him away gently so that she could pour the water out of the pasta before she filled two bowls, setting one in front of him and sitting down with the other, twirling a fork in the noodles slowly, not starting to eat.

He waited for a few seconds as she gathered her thoughts. "I want to talk about us."

He stiffened. "What about us?"

It had been two weeks since she'd confessed that she'd been in a relationship since high school with him to her mother, and he knew that she'd felt incredibly guilty about it. They'd had dinner with her the week before, and despite his sterling behavior (if he did say so himself), he also knew that Elizabeth Forbes was less than pleased with what she viewed as his illicit seduction of her only child.

Although, if he was honest with himself, he hadn't exactly expected her to be over the moon.

She set her fork down, a small smile on her face. "Nothing bad. She just had some questions when she called the other day, and it got me thinking..."

"All right," he said cautiously. "Is there something wrong, sweetheart?"

"I just...You're serious about this, right? About me?"

"Of course," he said immediately. "I love you, Caroline. I've told you that."

"Would you want to get married? Eventually, I mean?"

"If that's important to you, then it's important to me," he said diplomatically, and she smiled slightly.

"Not very romantic, are you?"

"I'll have you know that I can be very romantic. I took you out to dinner when you got into NYU."

"First of all, you owned that restaurant, so there really wasn't any planning required. Second, we fucked in the bathroom while you pulled my hair and called me a whore, and I'm not sure that qualifies as 'romantic'."

"You liked it," he said, trying not to sound too defensive.

"Yeah, I also like eating Cheetos in your bed at three in the morning. That doesn't make it romantic."

"Our bed, and I maintain that you're mistaken."

"Prove me wrong."

"I'll take that as a challenge."

"I hoped you would."

"Any other questions?" he asked, trying to get them back on track to their original conversation.

"Yeah. What do you think about kids?"

"I'm not confident that I'd be a good parent, but perhaps we can revisit the subject once you're out of school?"

She nodded. "Okay."

She shifted slightly, curling a piece of hair behind her ear and biting her lip, studying her pasta intently.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Would you still love me if I wasn't willing to be your sub anymore? Would you still want to be with me?"

"Yes," he said firmly, only not having interrupted because he had to wrap his mind around how ridiculous (though honestly objectively quite reasonable) her question was.

She gave him a bright smile.

"Why? Do you want to stop?" he asked, feeling a little bit sick.

Had she only been doing it because she wanted to please him? Was she honestly not interested in it and he somehow hadn't noticed? Did she feel like he was pressuring her?

"No," she said quickly, reaching to press her hand over his, clearly realizing the direction of his thoughts. "I really, really like it. That's not what I meant. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't just...you know..."

"Only with you for sex?" he asked dryly, and she nodded.

"Yeah."

"You know, many people that are in the lifestyle don't actually have sex, and simply-"

"If you stop having sex with me, I will punish you," she interrupted, a smile pulling at her lips, and he gave her a dimpled grin. "I'd love to see you try."

"I'll remember you said that," she warned, waving her fork at him, and he just shrugged.

"If you say so, sweetheart."

XXX

"Caroline, love?" Klaus asked as he walked inside the house, closing the door behind him.

It had been a long day. Ever since he'd moved back to New York and returned to managing his business, he'd had increasingly long days, and consequently less time to spend with Caroline.

Halloween was the next day, so the last few weeks had been a nightmare. They'd had to spend an absurd amount of time deciding whether to house special merchandise or food, and then try to buy enough materials for it without having things left over.

He was looking forward to coming home and spending some time with his girlfriend, preferably time spent naked with her writhing underneath him.

The sound of sizzling and the scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and he smiled, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up before following the smell of food.

After that one time when she burned salad (she still wouldn't tell him how it happened), she'd signed up for a cooking class at one of the local community colleges to transfer in for credit, and she'd taken to it instantly once someone actually explained the basics.

Caroline was standing at the stove in profile, moving the spatula across the pan to cook what looked like stir fry, but not dressed quite the way he expected.

He was used to seeing her in one of his shirts, if she was wearing anything at all, but instead she was wearing a black ruffled dress, tight around her middle but with a loose short skirt, revealing black garters attached to sheer black stockings. An apron was tied around her front, and she looked to shoot him a bright smile. "Hello, Mr. Mikaelson. How was your day?"

"Better, now that I'm home," he said, lingering in the doorway. "That smells wonderful," he said, his eyes glued to her legs.

"Thank you, Mr. Mikaelson."

"May I ask the occasion?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"The outfit. You look positively delectable, but I don't recall saying that you could wear anything more than my shirt in the house."

"I was hoping we could do something a bit different tonight."

"Well, that's not for you to decide, is it?"

"But, Mr. Mikaelson, you promised we could do something for my birthday."

"Yes, and you told me you hadn't figured out what you wanted."

"Well, I have now. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays."

"Is it?" he asked, his mind conjuring all sorts of role-play situations they could try, though she was wearing one of his favorites already…

She seemed to have followed his train of thought, and she bit her lip, giving him a dose of wide, pleading blue eyes. "Do you trust me, Klaus?" she asked, her voice soft and serious.

"Of course," he said, not even having to think about it.

She smirked. "Why don't you eat while I wash up?"

"You've had dinner?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes. I ate before you got home, Mr. Mikaelson."

He sat down, trying to suspend his instinctive suspicion at Caroline's behavior, and he watched as she bent over just a bit more than was necessary to wash the dishes before she put them in the dishwasher and said she was going to tidy his ('their', he resisted correcting) room.

If that wasn't an invitation, he didn't know what was.

He finished his food in record time, walking into the bedroom and grinning as she pushed him against the door, her lips moving passionately against his.

"Undress me," he ordered between kisses, and she nodded, pulling back to let him steer her to the bed.

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson," she said, her voice dropping to a tone he associated with unsolicited sexual favors (always welcome, obviously, but generally some sort of bribery).

He sat down and she stood between his legs, unbuttoning his shirt easily and untucking it, helping him shrug it off before falling to her knees and undoing his slacks.

He stared unashamedly down the costume as she did so, and he was achingly hard for her by the time she stroked his cock, her tongue darting out to flick against the tip of him.

"Stop," he ordered, and she pulled back to sit, watching him with hungry eyes as he moved to lie down.

"Come up here with me, sweetheart. I want to see you ride me."

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson," she said, and he wondered whether she was fighting down a smirk, quickly letting the train of thought go as she straddled him, her garters a stark contrast to her smooth, pale legs, the sheer black stockings the perfect mix of naughty and tempting.

He groaned as she rolled her hips against his erection, the slick skin of her heat heaven against his aching cock.

She stroked him a few times and sank down onto him, and he would blame it on exhaustion later, but he didn't notice as she grabbed his wrists, massaging the skin with her thumbs, and by the time he realized that she'd cuffed him to the headboard, it was too late.

She was still rolling her hips against him, her pussy clenching around him as she moaned, and she squeezed her breasts through her bodice, tugging at her nipples through the fabric.

"Caroline..." he said warningly, and she smirked, her eyes slightly glazed when she opened them to look at him innocently.

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson?"

He watched as she threw her head back and moaned as he thrusted his hips, hitting her g-spot, her breaths growing ragged.

"Uncuff me," he ordered, and she smirked, reaching down to rub her clit under her skirt as she moved on top of him.

"Remember when you essentially dared me to try to punish you?" she asked, her voice breathless as she moved, clearly bringing herself closer to her release with every roll of her hips, every stroke of her finger against her clit.

"Yes," he ground out, watching her, trying to decide how he'd punish her for this.

It was a very good thing that she enjoyed the soreness she got on her arse when he spanked her, because he fully intended to make it difficult for her to sit comfortably for at least the next day or so.

"Well, I did it."

"I can see that," he ground out, and she just watched him, her teeth sunk into her lower lip. "Uncuff me," he ordered again. "Every time I ask and you do not obey, I will add ten strikes."

She hesitated, clearly debating whether to ask what number they were on now, but seemed to think better of it.

"If you come before you release me, I will add additional punishments as I see fit."

"Sorry, Mr. Mikaelson," she said, bending over him to unshackle him, and he grabbed her wrists flipping them over so he was on top. "You did say you'd like to see it," she pointed out, her lips pulled in a pout, though her eyes were teasing.

"I will not let you come for the next two weeks," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll get twenty strikes, and you will count them and thank me for each correction. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get up and bend over the desk," he said, and she scrambled to obey, clearly hoping that he'd go easier on her if she followed his orders perfectly.

He wouldn't, but he did appreciate the effort.

Hope you enjoyed. Please review and let me know what you thought. :D
Hugs!
-Angie