An: This is so stupid of me, but I've started another project to add to all my others. But random inspiration struck. I decided to try my hand at some dark Klaroline. Warning, M rated content and dark themes. Sorry if it offends you. If anyone wants me to continue this as a multi-chapter story, review and give me some ideas. PS-This is my first M so I apologize if it's not up to par yet. But Klaroline deserves to be my first.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own them.

"Disturbia! It's like the darkness is the light. Disturbia! Am I scaring you tonight?"

Caroline's POV

"You did this to me!" I shouted, staring down at my shaking blood-covered hands. I couldn't make myself stop shuddering.

I felt my arms move almost involuntarily, instinctually covering myself. As I felt my fingers wrap around my arm and I almost jumped at how cold they were. I was used to being cold-skinned-I was a vampire-but this was different. This was like I didn't recognize the feel of my own skin.

I stared into his face, wanting desperately to turn my gaze from him and run away, but I couldn't stop looking at him, my eyes still wide. I wasn't sure if I was angry or terrified. Mostly, I felt a terrible, crushing sense of guilt and sorrow. Not guilt at killing the man, at killing more than one of them, but guilt for not being bothered by the monstrosities I'd just committed.

I felt my breathing become harder; it felt like I was trying to breathe with water in my lungs, drowning. His reaction was exactly what I expected, but the opposite of what I'd hoped. His eyes lit with dark satisfaction. A smirk slowly pulling up at the side of his lips and his eyes swirling midnight blue, a spark that simultaneously excited me and scared me lighting them up.

"Debatable," Klaus breathed, his breathing accelerating like mine, looking like he was sickly satisfied, "How do you feel, love?"

I blinked. For a few seconds, I forgot how to breathe. I considering just finding a piece of wood off the floor and staking myself, if only so I wouldn't become this monster I was starting to feel develop in me. After what felt like thirty minutes, but I somehow knew was only two and a half seconds, I took a deep breath and felt the residual burn race up my throat from the still-present smell of blood in this abandoned warehouse.

"I…don't."

His face split in a grin, his dimples showing. I'd never seen dimples look that…impure. I was frightened that he automatically knew what I meant. It made me think that he was doing this on purpose. A few minutes ago when I'd accused him, it'd been more to vent the emotions I couldn't understand. Now I was starting to suspect I'd been right.

"Good girl," he was practically purring as he walked towards me, closing the distance between us and before I could even step back, he'd grabbed me. I pulled him to me by his hair, the urge to claim him or punish him for this somehow overtaking me like I'd never felt before. He groaned into my mouth and the vibrations ran down me, raising goosebumps on my sides as he squeezed my hips, pulling mine to his, practically throwing me against him. Normally, when I did something unwise, there'd be this little voice in my head telling me to stop, but it was gone, my head was quiet for once. I wasn't happy at all, but I was thrilled. It made no sense. This was wrong. But I loved it and I somehow loved it more because it was completely wrong. I just didn't care. And it was freeing. I clung onto that mental-silence, physical thrills shooting through me. I wanted to hit him, slap him, stake him, but I had just as much desire to kiss him, throw him against something and just take him. I felt like it wasn't me doing this, out-of-body, but at the same time, I'd never felt more into the moment.

I growled as I raised my arms to his neck, violently scratching my nails down his neck and feeling my pupils dilate as I watched the stark contrast of scarlet liquid run down his pale skin. So beautiful, so sick and extreme.

He pulled back from me a centimeter, his arms never loosening, as his hot breath panned over my face, his eyes burning, "Excellent, Caroline. I'm glad I chose you."

"Chose me?" I hissed, then shook my head, "You know what? I don't want you to answer that right now. Just shut the hell up and fuck me."

His eyes widened in the slightest, obviously not expecting that from me, "Spitfire. I like it," his eyes twinkled evilly a millisecond before he leaned down and recaptured my lips. He growled at him, the sound like a pissed off animal, as I shoved his head away, forcing him to arch his neck as I kissed down it, licking off his blood from his skin. A vague memory played through my head of that night on my birthday when he'd saved my life. The memory was cracked and shifting around in my head, like my mind was trying to reject it, fighting with the opposing images of the scene before me and the one of the only sweet moments I'd ever shared with him. I shook my head at it, dispelling the warped pictures from my mind as I felt the veins around my eyes protrude and my fangs extend. He groaned and placed a hand at the back of my neck. I could feel he was trying to be gentle, but his nails were starting to dig into my skin. He couldn't hold back. And I liked it. For over a year, he'd tormented everyone and everything I cared about; he'd always been the master, Mr. Control. And now, for once, I held the power to affect this almighty Original, probably the most powerful being alive. That thought and a hundred others raced through my mind as I breathed the feeling in, exhilarating and horrible, but wonderful. For now at least, he plays by my rules.

With that decision in mind, I scraped my teeth over his skin, taunting him for what I was about to do without waiting long enough to let him stop me, before I sunk my teeth into his neck and immediately moaned at the taste. I'd forgotten how euphoric he tasted, better than a live human. His blood raced over my tongue and down my throat, tingling as I relished the tang.

"Caroline," he bit out, his grip switching to my arm, becoming painfully tight and instead of hating the pain,I understood that he was doing it involuntarily because he couldn't control his strength. The thought aroused me more as I pulled back, running my tongue over my top lip to savor any remnants of the blood, the strength I'd stolen from him. Usually, purposely weakening someone, forcing my will over their own, would make me feel sick, but I was numb.

"Mmm," I hummed, staring him down and waiting for him to say something.

I noted with gross satisfaction that it took him a few seconds to open his eyes and look down at me, he took a deep breath, like he actually needed it, "If you're expecting me to verbalize elegantly after that, you are tragically mistaken."

I rolled my eyes acidly, "You just did, jackass."

He paused, realizing, then he smirked, "Yes, I did."

I fumed, "The more you talk, the more I want to break your neck."

"You won't," the confidence in his eyes made me fume as he spoke slowly, "Right now, you want me just a tad more than you hate me."

My eyes narrowed to slits, like a blue gas flame shooting towards him, "As much as I feel the urge to scratch your face off, you're right," I titled my head to the side, trying briefly to reflect on how I felt about that. But all I could feel was rage and lust, like I was subconsciously blocking everything else without realizing it.

He threw his head back, laughing almost manically, before he reached out and picked me up by my thighs, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I could feel him hard against my thigh as he groaned deep in his throat at the feeling, his face changing to show what he really was.

This feeling was burning me, scorching my mind and my heart, but it was also scintillating in my veins. I could stop if I wanted to, I wasn't out of control, but I didn't want to.

I could feel his eyes on the back of my head as I sucked on his neck, trailing little nips down his skin, "Don't look at me," I hissed. I didn't want to connect with him, I wanted to own him, if only for an hour.

He made a rumbling sound in his throat as he grabbed my hair and jerked my head so I was looking up at him, holding me by one arm. So hybrid strength wasn't exaggerated…the thought fell through my mind like a dark trickling stream before I blinked and saw him staring into my eyes, no compassion and no anger, just intensity and will, "I will watch you if I please, Caroline. And you won't stop, because you don't want to. I don't necessarily want to compel you, but that doesn't mean I won't."

Why was he warning me ahead of time? That wasn't like him. A minute later, he spun me around and rammed me into the wall, the silk material of my shirt tearing as the bricks scratched against my back, probably leaving marks. I understood somehow that he made the marks on purpose. He was feeling possessive too. His lips went right back to mine, leaning his head into it as he used both hands to pull my thighs tighter around him.

I displayed my urge for rebellion by grinding down against him, smirking when I felt him become impossibly harder.

The sound he made was equal parts euphoric and agonized, "Fuck you," he growled through his teeth.

I felt my eyes gleam wickedly under the flickering lights above us as I muttered silkily and heated, "Please."

My plead was actually a challenge, tinged with a tone of threat, and I could see in his eyes that he recognized that, and liked it. For the briefest fraction of a second, while staring at his face, I suddenly realized what I was doing and jolted in his arms, extremely close to jumping out of his grip and running away, never looking back. But he smirked a second later, and I'm not sure if he damned me or saved me at that moment. I had no idea and I didn't understand, but I felt free. Losing your conscience is not as scary as you'd expect, more like numb relief.

I let go of his shoulders as he pushed himself back up on me, moaning as he didn't even catch me. I fell backwards, my back arching, but my legs and my vampire strength keeping me from slipping off him. He immediately took advantage of my position, leaning forward to place a hand on my shirt between my breasts, fingering the lace in a contradictory gentle and musing way before his hand clenched around the material and yanked, the shirt ripping down the middle. He threw the shreds behind him as he tilted his head down, kissing between my breasts, letting his tongue come out to lick over my skin.

"Agh," I gasped, clawing his shoulders and ripping off his shirt as pleasure raced down my skin and heat pooled in my stomach. My core was aching as he made his way over to my bra, running his fingers under it up to my nipples, rubbing his thumbs over me. My back arched to the point it would've hurt if I was human, "Please, Niklaus."

I had no idea why I used that name; maybe it was just easier to breath out, at this point, I didn't care. But he seemed to. His eyes caught mine and the aroused shimmer intensified as anger joined the emotion in his eyes, "Don't call me that. Please, what? What do you want, sweet Caroline?"

The endearment was mocking, purposely ironic as his eyes raked down my topless form, trying to burn marks in my skin to show the world that he'd touched me, "I want to kill you and have sex with you," I tried desperately to catch my breath, "At the same damn time."

He laughed, chuckling to himself, probably not caring if he offended me, "You have no idea how many women have felt that way about me. But you're the only one who's ever said it to my face."

"What kind of sick man enjoys that?" I scowled at him.

"The powerful kind. I may be twisted, Caroline," he whispered, leaning down in my face, licking my bottom lip and smirking at me with just his eyes when I bit his lip and wouldn't let go. He tore it from my grip, making it bleed, the taste dripping into my mouth, "But you want me. Which is worse-the wicked or the ones who desire them?" he tilted his head inquisitively, pretending to consider the question.

He had a way of forcing me to think about dangerous things while simultaneously making me forget who I was, making me feel nothing and everything, numb, but with live-wires under my skin. It made no fucking sense and I was thriving off of it.

I glared at him, "Just stop talking," I sighed, wanting to feel that power again that he exuded, that seemed to sink into my skin, infecting me and strengthening me. My walls were falling down, crumbling, and being built up and armored. I was a walking contradiction.

"Please," he scoffed, "I dare you to be quiet during this."

I hissed at him as I unbuttoned his pants, and eyed him for a fraction of a second, taking in the very slight surprise and abundant euphoria in his reaction with my lightning-fast vampire mind, before I slipped my hands under the band of his black boxer briefs, gripping him firmly in my hand and tilting my head at him in challenge. His eyes glowed sizzling at me, before his head dropped back with a thud against the bricks behind him, an extremely too attractive, deep sound being torn from his lips. His breath was shaky as he looked back at me, "Brave, dear, but not wise-I tend to become vengeful in bed."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression flat and unamused, "We're not any wear near a bed. And you are not making love to me. I am fucking you."

He paused, genuinely blinking in contemplation as a misplaced thoughtful look crossed his face, "Perhaps someday."

His comment ticked me off, so I stroked my hand down, running my thumb over the tip, using my nails slightly.

He swayed forward as he choked on air, not being able to hold back his reaction. He moaned, but only slightly, trying to not show how much I was affecting him. Even if this man is losing, he would never show it. His hand shot down to my wrist like a steel trap and he pulled my hand away from him, fracturing a tiny bone in my wrist. I acknowledge it, I knew it had broken, but I didn't feel it.

"Stop it or you won't get your turn, Sweetheart."

I leered at his seductive words, "Who said I wanted to have a turn? Maybe I just want to torture you."

"Your body gives you away, Caroline," he murmured as he leaned down to my neck, letting his breath swirl around on my skin as he reached down and ran a finger lightly over my core through my skinny jeans, "I think these need to come off now."

Sizzling fingers of electricity shot up through me, reverberating where his fingers rubbed teasingly. I moaned, my head briefly falling onto his shoulder, before I regained composure and glared at him, "No foreplay. Take off your pants," a moment after my order had left my mouth, I'd taken off my own jeans, the buttoning being torn off accidentally in the process.

He smirked and raised an eyebrow as he let his eyes drop down lazily at my naked form, "As appealing as you look right now, love, I don't do commands."

"You will if you're going to do me."

He laughed, "I'll give in just this once. Only because I like your fire. It…gets to me," he admitted, his eyes sparking, doing that thing where he smirked without smiling again.

I eyed him appreciatively as he bent slightly too remove his own pants, "I can see that," I eyed the bulge in his boxer-briefs and a moment later he flicked his eyes up to me, grinning wickedly at me, dimpling his cheeks at me, "Oh, you're fun."

I rolled my eyes, "'Fun' won't be the word you used when I'm done. And what makes you think this will happen more than once?"

His face became completely serious, contemplating me again, "The fact that you didn't look scared when I kidnapped you and you killed four of those construction workers without pausing. If you were going to regret it or run, you would've done so after the first killing. You did not," he raised his eyebrows at her, daring her to say he was wrong.

"You're right," I purred, my eyes glinting, "I don't regret it. Don't know why. Wished I did feel guilty at first, but I don't really care anymore. Strange, but I liked it. The intensity, the power. I loved it and hated it. And you suspected I would, didn't you?"

His eyes sparked, "It's always the bubbly ones that make the sexiest killers."

"Violence turns you on?" My voice wasn't disgusted or confused, I merely sounded annoyed, disdainful. But I knew he could see through it; I was excited.

He simply nodded, "Like you said, love; it's the power it brings."

"Ah," I clicked my tongue, getting it, "It's the control that turns you on. That's why I want to own you right now," I mused darkly and watched as he tore off his underwear.

He glared at me, "Don't turn this around on me, darling. It won't work," he warned, flatly and confident, his tone strong as he stalked over to me where I was standing with my weight on one hip, somehow completely at ease with standing naked in front of him. I realized that I didn't feel exposed because I was only physically naked and I didn't care if he approved of my appearance. He couldn't see my mind and that was all that mattered to me at the moment.

He encircled my waist in his arms, pulling me flat against him, knowing the feel of his hard, lean muscles and soft skin against my stomach would get a rise out of me. It was getting a rise out of him. I smirked as I felt it, then felt my breath get caught in my throat when his nipples brushed mine, sending sparks down, burning my core. I repressed a whimper at the growing ache in me. His face was smug and I knew then that he did it on purpose.

I clenched my jaw in restraint, anger and lust running through my veins, fueling me as I pushed him back against the wall. And from the hissing intake of breath he emitted, I knew I'd scratched his back. He may even be bleeding. I sniffed. Yes, he was. I leaned up on my tiptoes to draw his lips to mine and he closed the inch between our mouths, I bit his lip to reopen the cut I'd made before and sucked some of the sweet metallic liquid into my mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting himself enjoy the sensations now, knowing our fight for control was useless and neither of us would ever win.

However, a minute later, after a few moans from both of us, he flipped me around and my legs were around his waist again. He looked at me for only a second, his only warning was the increased blaze in his eyes, before he thrust up into me, pushing me into the wall.

"Klaus!" I screamed, knowing he would pull out and hold out on me if I called him by the name his father gave him again.

The moment he entered me, he groaned, long and deep, his eyes fighting to stay open. But after a moment of fighting himself, his eyes went wide open again, staring into mine, "Don't look away from my eyes, Caroline. I am going to watch you as I make you fall apart."

I couldn't respond; I wanted to push him away, I felt too full, but I knew I'd whimper if he stopped. It was like when you were a kid when you would keep eating food that was still too hot, even after it burned your tongue, because it just tasted too good to stop.

All I could do was moan, screaming words I didn't give permission to leave my mouth, "God, don't stop," I gasped out.

He pulled back, almost all the way out of me before he slammed roughly back in, the friction burning me inside. He choked on the sensation as he stared into my eyes, "Bloody h-hell," he breathed against my neck. I didn't even register the fact that I'd just made the Original Hybrid stutter.

It was too good. I'd never felt anything like this. I felt as if I didn't scream, I'd combust; I had to get out the agonizingly orgasmic sensations in some way.

"Oh!" I shouted as he flipped me away from the wall and in a second we were on the ground and I didn't care how we got there because he was letting me be on top. This angle drove him deeper into me and I could feel him in me to the hilt. I rocked on him, circling my hips, and his nails dug into my waist as his neck arched back, the veins showing in his neck and around his eyes as he stared at me still. He had yet to close his eyes again.

"Holy…Caroline," he spoke on a sigh and I wasn't foolish enough to think he was being tender. I knew neither of us had any reason behind our reactions right now-no logic, no thoughts besides Oh God, yes.

I echoed the sounds he made my sighs and moans mingled with his groans and shouts. It grew so loud that it reminded me of the sounds of the dying men I'd killed earlier. It was a horrific symphony, beautiful and disastrous.

But I could feel it rising, building in the both of us, mixing until we both thought we were going to lose our minds. I couldn't take it. I almost wanted it to stop, but at the same time, I wanted to draw it out as long as I could. Unlike any other time I'd ever had, I didn't feel affection or love run through me, but hate and begrudging respect, overrode my the electricity we were creating. It wasn't warm by any means, but a connection was forming between us. Because we both viewed this the same way, we were both smart and angry, we were beautiful in the day and monsters at night. We liked going at each other, thrived off it, but I enjoyed beating at him almost as much. I was repelled and attracted. But I couldn't think at all anymore as the swell of pleasure was rising. Higher and higher and higher and Klaus was shouting, loud and incoherent. I made shameful, incomprehendable screams as I joined him in the high, and I'd never enjoyed anything more.

"CAROLINE!" He sounded exhilarated and he was staring straight into me.

I returned him with equal vigor, my voice sounding dark, "Fuck, Klaus!" I wanted to say 'fuck you!' but I knew he'd point out how ironic it was.

I dropped down onto the concrete beside him, and I felt a nail under my back, but I couldn't move. My limbs were jelly and I didn't want to look at him.

"I don't think I've ever been that loud," he chuckled at himself.

I turned my head slightly to glare at him through hooded eyes, "I think I hate you."

He didn't even look at me, "Like I said-spitfire."

An: Hmm, hate sex, weird to write, but I enjoyed the physiological part of it. People underestimate how intelligent Caroline can be.