Author's Note: I apologize profusely for the delay in update, but I had attempted to find a beta-reader before posting. I didn't end up having much luck- so if anyone knows of someone or would be interested in beta-reading the final chapter of this, and perhaps even my planned sequel fic, please send me a PM.

This is my first attempt at writing back and forth in the third person (one of the main reasons I require a beta- a lot of these techniques are new to me as an author) so please: read, review, etc. Feedback is much appreciated.

And as always... SMUT WARNING.

Elena lay in bed for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably only a few long minutes after Klaus' abrupt and spontaneous departure.

She might've convinced herself that this recent turn of events was nothing more than another of those impossibly vivid dreams- a borderline hallucination of sorts, but her skin still seared from his scorching touch, soft features positively glowing from the intensity of such a powerful orgasm… A release she most certainly hadn't been able to achieve with a solo act, no matter how valiantly she could've tried.

A sigh of mixed emotions slipped past pallid lines, inherently shattering the blanketing silence that surrounded her.

Slowly pushing herself up and off the mattress, shaky limbs carried her slightly unsteady silhouette throughout the surprisingly sparse interior of her bedroom, gathering the scattered clothing and bedding from wherever it had landed across the sleek hardwood floor. After retrieving the various strewn articles, the conflicted brunette carelessly tossed them atop the bed, collapsing astride the wrinkled heap and drawing the sheet loosely around her slim waist.

Laying on one side, smooth fingertips brushed the plump petals of her lips in a state of awe; chocolate optics locked upon the empty doorframe of the bedroom where she'd first spotted Klaus, as taunting accents echoed relentlessly in her mind, 'But if you want to continue…'

That conceited, manipulative, little shit. The man was pure evil… bottled sin; indulge too freely and you're bound to become addicted… willing to let it consume you from the inside out.

Adrenaline still coursed throughout undead veins, proving it especially difficult to regulate her totally unnecessary breaths. Mahogany hues, alight with fierce determination, burn into the wood-grain of the room's entrance, scrutinizing the area for any indication of the foreboding shadow that had lingered there but minutes beforehand.

Just when she'd all but convinced herself that Klaus wouldn't seek out her company on his own… She'd even begun to question her oral skill and silently criticize her technique with the growing self-doubt… And then he'd appeared. In the dead of night. Silently prowling through the Salvatore's property, masked completely within the dark shadows, and silently stopping solely to wordlessly observe her unabashed act of self-'love'.

Sleek little peeping Tom…

At the same time, credit where credit's due; the hybrid was sly, his behaviors crude, shameless, and downright depraved… but he had more than fulfilled a desperate longing… soothing the persistent ache that had been screaming his name for much too long already.

Though exhaustively satisfied, she came to the sudden and conflicting realization that her body still yearns for his touch, his taste… for him. All-consuming desire blazes from sated embers to a fiery inferno of lust, unquenchable to any and all but the Original hybrid himself.

She's never quite felt this way about any one particular person before; with Stefan things had always been intimate, centered, controlled… Damon had been more electric, the untamed attraction and long-denied chemistry creating unthinkable new blissful highs… But with Klaus, it's just different.

Elena Gilbert has outwardly despised Niklaus Mikaelson since before he even set foot into Mystic Falls- and this crucial fact remains unwavering still. She harbors no feelings of love for the immortal Original, not even those of forgiveness. In her mind, his colorful history of innocent victims and heinous crimes is beyond redemption, his soul eternally damned. She loathes him for all that he's done.

And she craves him nonetheless.

She longs to have his perpetually flawless frame writhing beneath her, his rigid shaft thrusting with reckless abandon into her warm, accepting mouth… to feel the intensity of his gaze traveling brazenly across her flowing curves as she lays wanton, willing, ready… to re-live the delirious sensations the skilled hybrid effortlessly elicits as his tongue slips between silken folds, tasting her arousal while simultaneously increasing it ten-fold.

It's an unexplainable, unavoidable, gravitational force begging for acceptance- for relief. She wants to be dominated. Marked. Branded. She needs to be his in the most basic and primal of ways.

It's irrational.

It's dangerous.

It's verifiably psychotic.

And none of that matters.

Her subconscious seizes victory, solidifying the decision before she can even grasp or weigh the options. Fuck the guilt that will surely later accompany her selfish actions- the unspoken and yet unwavering pledged loyalty to Caroline, her so called 'best friend', isn't even factored into the equation. It can't be. This is beyond her control; she doesn't have a choice… And the ball's in her court.

The crisp air of the last hours before dawn offered a stinging contrast against the hybrid's feverish flesh, but it wasn't enough.

It had taken a great amount of self-control, self-control he didn't think he'd possessed, to tear himself from the truly stunning scene splayed so readily before him.

Elena Gilbert. The last Petrova doppelganger. The key to breaking the curse that had been sworn upon him for over a thousand agonizing years. His former walking bloodbag. Another fucking baby vampire.

Gasping for breath as she slowly returned from orgasmic bliss; thickly-lashed eyelids fluttering of their own accord, blind fingertips frantically grasping for anything within reach, and his name rasping from her lips…just a prayer swept away with the wind.

In that moment, he'd wanted nothing more than to ravish her whole; to discard his poorly constructed (and yet perfectly executed) plan of revenge, and simply just claim her.

He would take her again and again until her voice was hoarse from screaming his name and she begged for his mercy. He wished to forever ruin her for any other man; the surging testosterone rapidly rousing his dominant 'Alpha-male' tendencies. He could nearly taste the unforgettable nectar of her life's crimson essence dancing upon his tongue, intoxicating his senses in much the same way it had the first time he'd tasted her. The indigo-colored vein pulsing just beneath the flesh of her inner thigh was practically inviting the animalistic intrusion.

With hybrid features threatening to emerge, he'd managed to summon unfathomable restraint, restraint he'd previously been unaware of, and instead move sensually up her lithe frame, pressing a chaste kiss to confounded brims before making a swift and immediate exit.

Though the basic, primitive instincts to own, to possess, to quite simply take what he wanted nearly crumbled a millennium's worth of self-resolve and strategically planned impulse-control, a more logical thought process still broke free.

Payback was a necessary evil here.

She'd initially sought him out… taken advantage of his slumbering perception… and left him wanting more. That couldn't go without consequence.

The mere thoughts of the tantalizing little vixen had driven him absolutely wild, bringing him to the edge of insanity and voiding his mind of rational thought in unfair exchange for endlessly multiplying daydreams of her.

A savage growl slices through the brisk night air as he quickly distances himself from the unexplainable weakening of his resolve; superhuman agility proving incredibly useful with his waning patience.

The familiar scenery passes in a blur of insignificant details; each neighborhood residence appearing remarkably similar, one property visually blending into the next as he sprints at full-speed towards the outskirts of Mystic Falls.

Running. Fully reveling in one of those cherished and beloved supernatural abilities is exhilarating, proving to be a most useful and needed distraction. The tepid temperature of the Virginia breezes nip into his flesh, a light flush of physical and mental exertion coloring ivory-toned cheeks as he finally bursts through the large oak doors of the Mikaelson estate.

Hinges creak from the force, an audible stress against the grain of the wood as Klaus slams the door shut behind himself, instantly leaning his full weight against it in an ongoing effort to maintain the required restraint to not turn around and go back to Elena.

Groaning in frustration, his fingernails carve deep ruts, splintering the intricate woodwork framing the entryway; blunt, human teeth digging harshly into the tender tissue of his bottom lip.

Fuck! She'd really gotten under his skin this time…

But this time, he's equally to blame.

She's intoxicating… heavenly… a depraved, guilty pleasure that he wishes to indulge in again and again.

"Fucking hell!" he growls, the prominence of his aching erection still caged painfully within dark denims.

He can't explain the attraction, the allure, and it's beginning to drive him mad. Klaus doesn't take kindly to matters he cannot explain.

Breathing heavily in a tremendous effort to gather composure, and with his hands balled into tight fists, he quickly strides through the manor, kicking his boots off along the way. He treads the stairs two at a time, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake as he makes his way to the bathroom located within the master bedroom.

He needs a shower; a cold shower.

It wasn't a conscious decision. Fuck, it wasn't really a decision at all.

Once Elena had managed to regain some fortitude of balance, it was as if she moved on auto-pilot; mind and body totally despondent to one another.

While her actions were unhurried and seemingly detached as she donned her discarded pajamas, checked her complexion in the vanity mirror, and ran a comb through tangled tresses, the flurry of activity behind hazelnut orbs remained constant throughout.

Vivid flashes of memories colored her consciousness; visions of times come and passed joining forces with the debased fantasies and impure desires no longer dormant within,to create one hell of a lethal attraction.

She has to have him.

The engine of her vehicle silences at the end of his drive in record-breaking time. It's been perhaps twenty minutes since his lips last possessed hers, alcohol-laced breath mingling together, leaving her craving more, but it feels like it's been so much longer.

Despite the reassuring fact that Klaus had indeed taken the offered bait, her nerves still made an unwelcome appearance, setting a slightly apprehensive ambiance as she exits the car; somewhat unsteady limbs carrying her up the long driveway to the hybrid's home.

He should've heard her approaching. He should've heard her car switch off. He should've heard the decidedly slow paces that carried her up the weathered steps and across his front porch. He should've heard the sharp hitch in her bated breaths as she paused with her fingers upon the handle. He should've heard the quiet sounds of the front door of his home opening and then closing behind her.

But he'd heard none of it.

Pelting streams of crystalline droplets rained mercilessly down upon his naked form; the icy mist unfortunately failing to alleviate the feverish heat of his skin- the burning desire of passion budding from deep within.

His usually keen and pinpoint superior senses are dulled by the steady spatter of cold water against the smooth porcelain tile of his expansive bath. His mind is miles away- entranced with the painstakingly enticing beauty of the youngest doppelganger.

He feels the boiling blood racing throughout his masculine frame with each accelerated beat of his non-living heart. Each frantic thrum echoes loudly in his ears and proceeds to drown out the entirety of the world's existence. His head falls back, heavy lids falling shut over aqua-tinted irises as he succumbs to the thoughts waging war on his mind.

Imagination is both a powerful and dangerous tool, especially one with hundreds upon hundreds of years to ascertain its strength- its believability and accreditation.

The hands that skin across his toned physique, gliding smoothly with the silk-like water… they're hers. They're her dainty little digits sporadically brushing atop his flesh with a fiery touch that draws out short, ragged gasps as they move downwards with unspoken intentions.

A loud groan resonates around the room as confident fingertips finally grip his rigid length, slowly stroking from base to tip with deliberate ease and precision. Unrestrained moans fill the air as gentle caresses and tender touches abruptly increase in pace, fervently guiding the sexually frustrated hybrid to his long-awaited demise.

"Fuck… Elena…" Klaus breathes, her name sounding more like a growl than anything else.

Elena had fully anticipated that Klaus would undoubtedly hear her forthcoming arrival and meet her at the door. She hadn't thought more than a moment ahead all evening; but his absence at the door forced her to at last make a decision.

Pausing at the entrance, she heard the telltale sounds of a shower running full-blast somewhere in the upper level of the house. Smirking to herself, she wasted no time in letting herself into the newly familiar residence, much like her previous visit, tiptoeing silently up the stairwell.

'It couldn't be more perfect,' she thought to herself.

It was rather fitting, actually. Klaus had caught her in a most vulnerable position; coincidentally, she'd managed to catch him in a slightly compromising situation as well.

With a more confident spring in her step, she entered his shadow-filled bedroom; the light filtering through the open doorway to the adjoining room both guiding her steps and drawing her closer.

Attempting to block out the all-too-tempting visualization of the incredibly attractive Original showering only a few paces away, she paused to rest at the foot of his bed to slip off her shoes and socks.

The entire bedchamber was laced with his unique scent; its qualities proving themselves seductive and captivating in themselves. The enticing and familiar smell of his usual cologne lingered upon the fabric of the wrinkled bedspread, her gaze flitting towards the mattress in distinct recollection of their previous escapade.

A guttural groan pulls her from her thoughts and draws her closer to its origin. Her eyebrows raise with both amusement and surprise as her name passes his lips with evident frustration, raising a self-assured smirk to otherwise cherubic features.

She doesn't think as nimble fingers quickly pull the charcoal-colored tank top over her head, letting it fall noiselessly to the plush carpeting, her sleep-shorts and the scrap of fabric somehow classified as underwear soon to follow.

He wants her… maybe even as much as she wants him.

The time for games is over. No more cat-and-mouse nonsense, no more 'catch me if you can', no more waiting.

She came here with one purpose; one truly undeniable urge… and she can't wait or fight it any longer…

Though she'd been fully aware of what the hybrid had clearly been doing, nothing could have possibly prepared her for the earth-shattering sight she was about to witness as shaky digits slowly slide the door to his shower open, the last remaining barrier separating them instantly vanishing.

His eyes had been screwed shut, beaded water glistening with reflected illumination as it cascades over every inch of his body, toned muscles tensing beneath the smooth surface of his flesh as his hand fervently works the length of his shaft. Astonished azures fly open to an unbelievable sight; Elena Gilbert- the precise woman of his current daydreams, standing right here before him in all of her nude glory.

She meets his gaze almost shyly, finding herself suddenly speechless under his intense, hungry stare.

"Elena," he growls again, more clearly and intensely than before as he appreciatively surveys her curvaceous figure.

Midnight lenses glisten a fierce, shimmery gold; lightning-quick reflexes catching her wrist in an impenetrable grasp. Purplish veins instinctively surface with anticipated lust, discoloring his generally flawless, timeless features with the mask of the monster hidden within. Venomous fangs protrude from his gums with malevolent promise; his bruising grip on her wrist strengthening furthermore as he abruptly yanks her seemingly apprehensive form forward with no warning.

A horrified, shrill scream pierces the early morning air…