Congrats on one year, buddy. You've come out not too worse for wear. Best you could hope for, I guess. Stefan thought sardonically to himself as he knocked back another shot.
It had been one year since that night. That night where Bonnie Bennett, the sweet girl who had always been there for them and always put herself on the line for them, died again. That night where he lost his best friend and soulmate all over again after promising each other they would meet whatever fate befell them together. That night when the man he has loved and loathed for 165+ years, his only constant, his big brother, died. It wasn't a night one celebrates but Stefan was celebrating. He was still alive after all. He'd call that something to celebrate, depending on who you asked anyway.
It had been nine months since he left Mystic Falls, or what was left of it anyway. He couldn't take it anymore. He saw his brother everywhere and in everything and it hurt. For a while he tried to ignore his hurt and be there for the others. Jeremy, Matt and Caroline were grieving for Bonnie the most out of everyone. Elena was more focused on the loss of Damon. Alaric kept sulking around the house. Enzo wasn't much better, just better at hiding it. Tyler was struggling with being a werewolf who was beholden to turn every full moon again and so Stefan was distracted from his grief, but Elena was what finally pushed him off the deep end. Most times she wouldn't stop crying, she barely left her room or did much of anything, but she had left long enough to notice he hadn't cried since the night Damon died. That he hadn't talked about what happened or even acknowledged Damon's death. She got upset and shouted at him, telling him he wasn't doing right by Damon, that he obviously didn't love Damon enough because he wasn't grieving right, that he should be the one dead and not Damon and that if he really cared about Damon he'd be a mess. Well, she got her wish.
After that, he had left town despite Caroline's protests that Elena didn't mean what she said and that he shouldn't leave at a time like that, but he had left and completely lost it. He was either so filled with rage that he was liable to kill anyone who looked at him twice or so cripplingly depressed he couldn't get out of bed. He still hadn't cried though.
It had been eight months since he last cried. It had come out of nowhere. He had passed a store and they had this leather jacket on display that Stefan knew Damon would love to have and then he was crying. He ran to his motel room thinking it would stop, he'd feel better once he got it all out, it could be cathartic. It wasn't. He was crying the next day too and the next and the next, until finally after a week of tears only interrupted by nightmare-filled dreams, he came to his decision to flip the switch. It wasn't an easy one to make but he did it.
It was different this time though. He wasn't maiming his way through the United States, he wasn't ripping people's heads off, hurting people. The only person he hurt was himself. He started partying. He danced a lot and drank a lot and brought home a different woman every night, sometimes a man because why the hell not? He was alive, he might as well live it up. He had taken drugs a couple of times when they were offered but mostly alcohol was his choice of poison. It felt good in that moment and he wanted that, to feel good, because it beat the alternative and if feeling good and living came at the price of forgetting what it means to have a brother and a soulmate and a friend, if it means forgetting that the death of one you love should matter, then to him it was a small price. He can't bring himself to care that that's wrong and that's the whole point: not to care and to seek out pleasure wherever and whenever he could so he could chase the bad thoughts away and the cracks that his mind wanted to form to let the emotions seep through. He wouldn't let that happen, he was going to ride this wave until the wheels fell off and he was thrown to the wall with an almighty crash.
Speaking of pleasure, I'm about ready to find some. He thinks as he stands posted up against the wall at the far corner of the club he was currently in.
It was loud, and the music shook the wall he was leaning against. Strobe lights kept flashing different colors though there were already yellow star-shaped lights overhead and other lights that gave the club a neon blue glow that looked nothing like the nighttime blue they were trying to imitate. There was a massive conglomeration of sweaty bodies moving like one unit, bumping and grinding against each other to the music with no care for propriety or names or inhibitions. It was something Stefan had come to enjoy in the past year.
He was scouting, trying to find his prey for tonight. Not someone to eat, not in the vampiric sense anyway. He wasn't hungry in that way tonight, no, tonight he wished to find someone to warm his bed. Who will it be? An insecure girl with daddy issues who wished to lose herself in someone else just as much as he did? A closeted guy who would deny Stefan's very existence after this night if they were ever to see each other again? A bombshell with a maneater attitude who planned to milk him for all he was worth, before discarding him and moving on with their day like he was nothing to them because he wasn't? So many possibilities.
His eyes were scanning the room when he was suddenly trapped in a sea of blue. His brother's eyes were blue, but this was a different shade, darker, colder, more impossibly mischievous and dangerous and yet holding very specific, rare fondness and Stefan knew why.
He wasn't shocked to see him. He had been in New Orleans a month now and hadn't come across the Original yet. He knew he would eventual, he was hoping anyway. Klaus' stare kept to his, penetrating in its sharpness and causing Stefan's stomach to roil and his groin to tighten. He hadn't been with Klaus in that way in almost two years, not since he whisked him from Mystic Falls in exchange for Damon's life. He was feeling a bit nostalgic. He didn't usually do nostalgia. Nostalgia was dangerous, it could push him off the emotionless, non-serial killer precipice he found himself on between ripper and severely depressed, immortal, teen vampire. However, nostalgia could also lead to pleasure and he was all about pleasure nowadays.
Stefan smirked invitingly at the blonde vampire and Klaus quirked an eyebrow at him, prompting the really-but-not-really-17-year-old to tilt his head to the side challengingly at the older man. Klaus narrowed his eyes at Stefan, but he still got up and began making his way over to him slowly. He had to grip the wall behind him as his groin tightened more in anticipation and his fingertips tingled. Finally, Klaus came to a stop in front of him, his jacket brushing against Stefan's bare arms.
"Well, what have we here? I didn't know my town was being graced with the last Salvatore standing." He said, speaking in a normal tone knowing Stefan's vamp hearing would catch every word.
"I wasn't secretive, but I wasn't seeking you out either. I didn't come here for you, I came for fun. I figured you'd pop up eventually somewhere in the equation. You usually do."
"Hmm, I didn't think you'd care much for fun with your brother being sucked into a dark oblivion." Stefan just shrugged,
"Shit happens." He replied nonchalantly. Not feeling pain was a definite perk of being without emotions. Klaus' face showed slight surprise before satisfaction and what Stefan was sure was lust set in.
"Ripper…" Stefan smirked and rolled his eyes. Klaus was way too easy sometimes.
"Not exactly. I'm not going on any rampages any time soon. I'm at a place in my apathy where I'm out for me and only me and being out for me doesn't include wasting time severing necks."
"What does it include then?" Klaus asked. He couldn't quite hide his slight disappointment or his genuine interest and curiosity in this new layer to Stefan (or maybe it was an old forgotten one, who knew).
"Fucking, living, doing whatever I want with whoever I want and not caring about the consequences or what anyone says, because what the hell does it matter anyway? We're all going to die one day, even the immortals." Klaus looked both a little shocked, perturbed and gleeful about this new motto of Stefan's.
"I'll think we'll get along just fine."
"I hope we do more than just get along." Klaus smirked and stepped closer to Stefan causing, his breath to hitch a little. Klaus leaned in almost kissing him but last minute he moved his lips to Stefan's ear.
"I intend to do many things to you." Stefan's breath caught in his throat as he felt Klaus' hands running down his sides and his mouth ghosting down Stefan's neck. He sucked in parts of his skin, leaving hickies in his wake and his hands move down and down to Stefan's covered penis. His fingers quickly undid the belt and zipper as Stefan raised his hands to hold onto Klaus' shoulders in anticipation for the pleasure to come. His body jerked a little and shivers ran down his spine as Klaus spit into his palm and then reached into Stefan's boxer briefs, stroking his dick before he grasped it firmly and flicked his wrist just enough for Stefan to hold his shoulders tighter and moan lowly.
Klaus set a steady yet electrifying pace as he pumped the younger man's member. Stefan gasped and wrapped his arms around Klaus back. He felt him bite into his neck and slowly began sucking his blood.
The dual sensations and the pulsing of the music and the atmosphere of the crowded club that kept right on moving even though two vampires were messing with each in a corner was enough to push Stefan off the edge he gladly jumped off time and time again and into the sea of pleasure and satisfaction. Klaus let go of Stefan's neck and bit his hand, shoving it in Stefan's mouth while still pumping his hand and squeezing Stefan's dick, milking him and healing him of the beginning of a werewolf bite before extracting himself fully from Stefan. He raised his hand which held strings of come to Stefan's mouth and he licked it clean without hesitation, keeping his eyes on Klaus' hooded ones. The mouth pulled Stefan to him and pushed their lips together in a hungry, rough kiss filled with want, need and desire.
"You're coming home with me." Klaus ordered, pulling Stefan along. Stefan frankly didn't care if he ever left as long as he was able to chase that pleasure and bury the pain under it, he would let Klaus fuck him in a metal safe submerged in the quarry if he had too.