She is sitting on a balcony, contemplating a greater mess that her life has become after she had joined the Mikaelson family. She wishes she had a drag of cigarette; it's kind of cliché, debris of her teenage days, but she wants to feel a bitter taste in her mouth. Elijah is no longer interested in her , however he always acts politely with gentleness, which makes her wish to clench his shoulders and shake him. An urge to destroy his goodness arises within her every time, because she's cold and indifferent, so very unlike him. Then there's another brother who stares at them grimly across the room and pours glass after glass down his throat, finishing a whole bottle in one seat, drilling her skull with prying eyes, but not uttering a word. Elijah says his good-byes , pets her on her shoulder, as if seeking to brush off a sheer layer of coldness, but she looks at him just like through a tunnel. It's a pity ,she no longer understands him. She walks out from the living room when their conversation is over, watching Klaus from the corner of her eye, then decides to leave him, because his drunken ass annoys her greatly.

She takes in sharp chill air, missing her days as a wolf, freedom and wildness that came with it . Now she feels backed into the corner, tied into a tight knot, even though love for her daughter sits in her marrow. She's caught in claustrophobic feeling; life lays dry on her tongue, so she mixes it with some human blood. She craves dying flame in her preys eyes, their last convulsions and twitches, when she sucks them dry and brakes their bones. She should be ashamed, disgusted even, she's not.

She hears a crashing sound coming from the living room. The asshole stumbles, muttering profanities, fractured glass all over the floor.

"Would you care to keep quiet?" she says coldness evident in her voice.

He ignores her comment.

"How come your suitor has left you? I thought he would stay longer, scratch some itch", he mutters darkly.

"What is to you anyway?"

"I don't like that you fuck my brother."

Perhaps alcohol has loosened his tongue a bit too much. She huffs dismissively. However, he doesn't find her reaction amusing –seconds later he looms above her his face twisted with unknown emotion. Hairs tickle at the back of her head; her neck muscle turn rigid. She leans back not because she's afraid of him (she never was), but because she doesn't appreciate unwanted that stir in her brain. His breath with a hint of bourbon in it washes over her, suddenly he doesn't seem as drunk as she thought him to be. His sharp gaze unnerves her.

"First, I was your broodmare and now all of sudden you've taken the interest in my personal life" she spits bitterly. "We happen to share a child. That's it. I draw my line there."

His jaw clenches at her words. Actually, his jealousy surprises her, so when he grabs her by her shoulders and draws her into him, she doesn't react at first, her body paralyzed by his boldness. Her eyes focus on his swollen red lips, avoiding his angry (hurt?) stare. Strangely enough she doesn't struggle or try to push him away. Their physical interactions have been limited since pregnancy, this whole situation and proximity of his body feel bizarre to her though not unpleasant. They are drifting into a dangerous territory; she realizes. It all feels like out of body experience to her, almost hallucination. His hands that were looped around her back, start roaming, leaving light brushes here and there, careful and anticipating an inevitable rejection.

Slowly, his expression softens and becomes neutral, his fingers acquiring boldness, slide down her spine and rest on a small of back. At this very moment, something snaps in her, even though her hardheaded self tries to cut short nuclear reaction, which sweeps her previous reservations and inhibitions, while her hands move on their own accord. As if in trance, she grasps his palms and guides them to the curve of her hips. It all seems like losing chess game to her, partially she hates herself for doing it, for giving in so easily, because she always was that one person who saw through his elaborate schemes. He, on contrary, is quick to exploit his leverage, destroying last shreds of her resolve. With his pupils blown wide, he takes her in; his gaze slithering down her body, a wicked smile playing on his lips. She can't argue that his seduction isn't masterful, when clearly arousal coils right between her legs. After making route down her figure his shameless eyes return to her face, mere centimetres between them. His breath tickles her lips, as he watches her, giving her bottom a generous squeeze, bringing her closer, until their pelvises collide. In the matter of seconds, he's pushing his tongue into her mouth, and she's holding back an urge to bite those smug lips of his. His arrogance irks her to no end; she wonders if sexual attraction happens to be a by-product of their antagonism. She mercilessly tugs on his hair, hopes to drag him down from his heights, earning a little gasp that he releases right into her mouth. Nevertheless, her small victory is short-lived, as he breaks free from their embrace and spoons her around.

"Aren't you rude, Hayley?" he exhales hotly against her ear, while his digits play with a hem of her short dress, then sneak under a flimsy fabric. Her thighs are lean and muscular, smooth pale skin beneath his fingertips. His hands are crawling up, until they reach the edge of her underwear. He traces a white patch of flesh, where silky material bites into her gluteus, slowly moving to her front. He taps his fingers against her mound, light teasing touches. His games irritate her , she's tempted to put his palm where it belongs or slap him. He seems to sense her impatience and smiles into her hair, changing his tactics and cupping her brazenly. He hums, as he detects her wetness coating tips of phalanges, runs them across her contours. He had sex with her, but it had never been like this, utterly erotic. He slows down a little bit; however, she doesn't like his hesitation and reminds him to keep going, grinds into his palm. In return, he locates her clit and presses down hard, so that the muscles of her inner thighs jump and her mouth drops ajar. It's the only weakness, she is willing to expose. Just like him, she feels a constant need to be in control. Giving him too much of her appreciation will snatch power out of her grasp, and she won't allow this to happen even though he is clearly skilful at wrenching orgasm out of women. His touch would be too direct if there wasn't silk between them, but he knows what he's doing, keeping her on the edge, tweaking and circling her knot of nerves with his thumb and forefinger. She can't see his face, slight blush that creeps onto his cheeks and how his lips open; however, his erection pokes into her lower back and pushes her ass trying to rub against it. He flinches away.

"Not so fast" he whispers, pushes her knickers aside and plunges two fingers into her. She's unbearably hot, wet and his stomach drops at the sensation of her slippery flesh. He drags his fingertips along her labia, catching her juices and smearing them over her clit. Breathy "fuck" reaches his ears; however, her uttered profanities are not enough for him. He won't be satisfied till she cums and washes his palm with her release. He starts applying more pressure; his ministrations become demanding and aggressive. He kisses long column of her neck; his lips are soft and gentle. Combination of them on her skin and his obscene fingerfucking makes her writhe in his arms, torn between wanting to stop this torture and greedily seeking his touch.
"Do you like this, love?" he murmurs, vibrating her nod of nerves with one hand and rubbing her nipple with another through material of her dress.

" Is this a rhetorical question?" she gasps, honestly not caring about his words. He smirks at barely concealed aggression. He enjoys seeing her like this, deliciously wanton, consumed by the need to reach her peak. Her thighs glisten with her wetness and quake, while she contemplates on snapping his neck. Never-ending build-up exhausts her, the longer he prolongs her pleasure as his digits slide up and down her cunt, the more she wants to finish. His digits deepen into her hole, circle her opening, whilst getting squeezed by her inner walls. He knows she's close, so he drags his fingertips to her clit and presses it into her pubic bone. Hard. Her knees tremble and a loud pant rushes through her lungs; her cunt clenches in pleasure, soaking her upper legs and his palm in cum. He gives her a light peck on her cheek, letting her sink into him for a moment. He nuzzles at her neck , his nostrils take in scent of skin and arousal that make his eyes black with lust. Before she can recover her senses, he kneels in front her, rips her knickers into shreds and begins to kiss her thighs. He has thought this through during those long nights punctuated by hours of solitude, when he fantasised about her and many sinuous ways in which he was planning to undo her.

He starts carefully with long sensual sweeps of his tongue, licking up, approaching triangle between her legs. At first, he nips at delicate flesh, which covers her inner thighs then parts her labia with a tip of his tongue running along her slit and working against the bundle of nerve endings. For a few seconds, he is positively struck when her fingers unexpectedly wound up in his hair, and she brings him closer, pulling on his locks rather harshly. However, he quickly comes to his senses, grinning wolfishly, perfectly aware of the effect his breathing has on her sensitive flesh.

She has to admit he's insanely good with his mouth. Red plump lips of his literally wreck her from inside out and leave her creaming all over his sharp cheekbones. He drives his tongue deeper, grasping her ass and hugging her trembling legs, keeping her securely in place. He is probing her experimentally, swiftly finding out what exactly makes her tick –his lips wrapped tightly around her clit or his tongue fucking her cunt.
Her nails bite into his scalp when she falls apart the second time in a row. Her release seems so much more violent, she trashes her hips against him; she shamelessly rides his face, but he doesn't intent to let her slip off his hook that easily. He continues to lick her through her orgasm, even though his jaw aches and his mouth are full of her taste, which will linger for days after he's done with her. He pushes her over the edge repeatedly. She has lost count of the number of times he has managed to get off with the dirty lips of his. Finally, she can't take it anymore; she winces from overstimulation. Grasping him by his short hair, she forces him to stop, dragging his head back from her.
He appears to be so pleased with himself eyeing her hotly, arrogant smirk twisting his face. He rises from his knees devouring her with his gaze, which sparkles both with innocent curiosity and thirsty lust. His thumb absentmindedly brushes below his lower lip and gathers smear of her wetness only to retreat back into a cavern of his mouth. His eyelids close for a moment, as he savours her taste, his head slightly cocked. She knows he acts like this on purpose to provoke, make her lose her last scraps of reticence, forget the fact that not so long ago she's been sleeping with his brother. She has to agree his behavior gets under her skin, arouses her despite her better judgement.
He approaches her, his eyes never leaving hers. His stare feels like a trap. Her pulse rises. She's not a blushing virgin with trembling heart and weak knees, a poor girl, who could be easily seduced. Her sarcastic mind dismantles everything and believes nothing, but there's something magnetic about his presence. He brushes a strand of hair from her brow, a gentle gesture, so very unlike Klaus.
"What do you want Hayley?"

She feels that his question seeks to fish the truths out of her which she is not even ready to examine herself. He demands her explanation, when she is not in her full armor, when she's weakened and needs time to gather her wits. She's been thrown on a frying pan, and she doesn't like where this conversation is going. He sounds like interrogating her.
"It's not time for soul-searching questions, Klaus"
Sometimes it bugs him that she reads him so well. Part of him thinks about pressing farther until she cracks and spills the answers. Nevertheless, intuitively, he understands if he keeps breaking through her shell, he will likely meet even greater resistance. He is torn between making things clear, ripping promises out of her and acting upon his urges.
"Yes, I guess you're right" he rasps. Of course, he will return to their conversation later. His ever-present need for control pulses at the back of his skull, he doesn't allow things to simply slip through his fingers; he seizes them, transforms them, until an outcome pleases his ego or suits his inquiries. However, he lets his focus shift to the matters of flesh, simply because she's too tempting to resist.
He takes her to his bedroom, starts stripping immediately. She would prefer to do it herself – take his V-neck jumper off and his black jeans, instead of awkwardly standing by his bed; however, she says nothing, only removes her black dress. After discarding her clothes, she watches his impeccable figure move. The memories of their first time are foggy – she was drunk back then, though she remembers he succeeded to undo her several times in a row, made her bones rattle. She felt as if she'd been entirely skinned –his touch was raw and intimate. She wonders whether this time will be different. They're no more anonymous lovers with little in common. They have a child; threads have been weaved between her and Klaus, as much as she likes to brush off their connection, their intercourse can no more be turned into one-night stand with no strings attached She bites her lip, considers backing off, even though the option strikes her as being ridiculous. She already had him on his knees eating her out. Later after they're done with each other, she will put all her intellect into rebuilding and maintaining political neutrality between them, but now she wants satiate her huger. He doesn't allow her to linger on her thoughts any longer, suddenly grasping her and throwing her on the bed. He's quick to snake his tongue in her mouth simultaneously stroking his chest against hers. His cock rubs against his thigh, and she rotates her pelvis to get him in. He teasingly tilts his hips, avoiding her, small smile touching his lips. Although she would probably roll her eyes at his antics, unfortunately for her sarcastic self, he's sucking on her tongue and doing other nasty things, so she is too distracted to throw a snarky remark. His hands which previously have been embracing her shoulders drop down her ribcage. His mouth follows their path, leaving wet trails. Finally, he closes his lips around her right nipple whilst gently tweaking her left peak between his thumb and forefinger. She throws her head back, bites on the back of her palm, trying to contain her enthusiasm and still staining his sheets with her juices. His right palm slides down her waist, caresses her hip and thigh, then his digits sink into her. He croons feeling her wetness, her readiness for him.
He grasps her by her waist, lifts her from her spot. His warm palm sears into the skin of back, pushing her down. Thrill blooms in her stomach when she realizes what's about to happen. She looks at him over her shoulder expectedly. Her uncertainties are unfounded; he is not willing to tease her any longer –in one swift motion; he drives his cock into her. He grits her teeth as her heat, her inner walls sucking him in. He can plainly feel her arousal leaking onto him, and the fact dissolves his composure pretty quickly. He starts thrusting into her, his face gnarled by animalistic grimace, his grip tightening around her middle half. She begins to push back meeting his strokes, wiggling her hips, wanting more of him, more of his length. She finds his uncontrollable reactions deeply arousing, maybe because he's fucking her from behind while she's on her fours, so their current position only maximizes the forbidden nature of their coitus.

"What do you want, Hayley?" he whispers. His voice trembles from restrain.
"Harder"
"And your wish shall be granted"
Thrusts of his cock become more forceful, demanding. Wanting to escalate her growing climax, he directs his fingers to her clit.
''Fuck'' she wails
"Fuck"
She erupts writhing, whilst he squeezes her clit. Few moments later, he follows her shooting his cum into depth of her cunt.