Rescue Me

A.N. First off, HUUUGE shoutout to dhfreak over on Tumblr who made the kick-ass edit for this story. It was the greatest surprise and I'm madly in love with it. Check out the other edits on dhfreak's blog, because they will BLOW YOUR MIND!

And speaking of blowing your mind, y'all blew mine with your reviews from the last chapter! I'm glad you all enjoyed my sorry excuse for a smut, and that everyone was pretty stoked that they finally hid the salami or did the horizontal mambo or whatever other horribly corny analogy you care to come up with. But for realz, peeps, you blew me away with the response. I can't handle your perfection, guys. Seriously.

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"Are you sure you saw them leave?"

Rebekah stumbled through the doorway, rolling her eyes as she twirled around to look at her fiancée. "I saw them leave, Stefan, for the tenth time," she said slowly, trying to keep her words from slurring. She probably shouldn't have had that last glass of wine, but as much as she loved Stefan, his work associates were just so drab and boring. "Caroline left out the side door and Nik followed soon thereafter. Honestly, Stefan."

Stefan shook his head, smiling as he watched Rebekah stumble down the step before growling under her breath and glaring at her shoes. Because her shoes are why she can't walk straight, he thought, chuckling under his breath. "Well, excuse me for second guessing my boozy fiancée, Bex," he said, unabashedly letting his eyes take in the view as she bent over to wrestle with the buckle on her heels.

She whipped her head around to glare at him, her long blonde hair provided a curtain around her face. "I am not boozy," she protested, turning back to her task at hand. Her fingers fumbled against the straps and she gasped when suddenly she felt herself lurch forward.

Before she could connect with the ground, a strong arm wrapped around her waist while another grasped her arm. She shot up, leaning into Stefan's chest as he led her over to the couch. "These floorboards are uneven," she whined, closing her eyes as she plopped down onto the cushion.

She heard Stefan chuckle, and then felt his fingers caressing the skin of her ankles as he easily undid the buckles and slid the shoes off her feet. "Of course they are, babe," he said, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her knee before rising to sit next to her on the couch. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as his eyes traveled to the staircase behind him.

"Careful, Mr. Salvatore," Rebekah said next to him. "If you continue to worry so, those horrible creases in your forehead will get worse."

"You said you liked my forehead," Stefan said, turning his head back to look at her. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned away from him as she rested against the pillows. Even sloshed out of her brain, she was beautiful. Even more so than when he had first seen her in that pub in London. He'd gone there to meet some of the partners, desperate to prove he wasn't just some "American wanker" who had a golden spoon in his mouth. He'd walked in, acting much more confident that he'd actually felt, and made a beeline for the bar. The whole ordeal would be easier once he'd had a drink or two, he'd decided. He had flagged down one of the passing waitresses carrying a tray of pints, but before he could grab hold of one, a hand reached past him and snatched it off the tray.

He'd turned, expecting some large, burly local to be glaring at him, but instead he saw Rebekah. She was standing behind him, one hand perched on a slender hip, the pint of ale rising to her smirking lips. Her perfectly arched eyebrows were raised in a challenge, and he couldn't help the smirk that crossed his own face as his eyes scoured her body. "Oh, by all mean, help yourself," he'd said.

She shrugged, licking her lips as she lowered the glass. "Oh, I plan to." His smirk had grown at her smug tone, and she shook her head, taking a step towards him. "Careful, Mr. Salvatore." She peered up at him, her blue eyes dancing across his face. "You won't do well in our court systems with a poker face like that." She raised herself to her tiptoes, her breath ghosting against the shell of his ear. "I can tell your every intention from here."

He could only stare as she'd pulled away, her red lips smiling up at him, and turned away to leave. Without thinking, he'd reached and grabbed her elbow, pulling her back a few steps until her back was pressed to his front. "Wait a minute," he said, his voice low as he craned his neck to look at her face. "Who are you?"

She smiled, pressing a finger to her lips, before she slipped from his grasp and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him standing in awe after her.

Eventually he'd learned her name. Learned that she was the younger sister of one of the senior partners, Finn Mikaelson, hence how she knew who he was. Learned that she visited that pub every Friday night. Learned that after every encounter, he found it harder and harder to leave her.

He'd fallen for her the second he'd seen her. And he was still falling, every day after.

"I do like your forehead," she said, her lips quirking up into a smile. "But the creases will make you look so much older than you already are, and I can't have people thinking I'm the arm candy of some old man sugar daddy."

Stefan laughed, shaking his head, and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. "You're hilarious," he said, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. He saw her smile grow, and he grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "He won't hurt her, right?"

"Nik's not an idiot," she replied, sighing as she turned her head and peered up at him with sleepy eyes. "Well…he is an idiot. Be he doesn't toy with women, Stefan. He's seen what it does to them, and he made a vow long ago to never be one to do so. He might not be a steady, run-of-the-mill relationship guy…but then again, I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at Caroline." She watched as Stefan nodded, his eyes traveling once more to the staircase. "Anyway, don't worry about her. I already threatened Nik if he did anything to jeopardize the wedding, and in association, Caroline. He'll be watching his steps."

"You threatened him?" Stefan laughed, turning his gaze back to hers. "You threatened him."

Rebekah scoffed, struggling to prop herself up with her elbows. "Yes. I can be quite vicious and mean when I want to be."

"Oh, believe me, Bex, I know that," he replied, pushing her hair off her shoulder.

She grinned up at him. "Prove it then," she said, leaning forward slipping her hands underneath his button-up shirt. "Take me to bed, husband-to-be."

Stefan grinned, leaning down to press his lips against hers. "Anything for you, babe."

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She had done it now.

Caroline let out a weary sigh as she leaned against the headboard, a sheet wrapped tightly around her naked body. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, slowly letting her gaze travel to the sleeping man lying next to her.

She had slept with Klaus.

For nearly 20 minutes she'd been sitting there, alternating between remembering the events of the last few hours and letting her eyes rake over Klaus' body as he slept. The sheets had pooled around his hips at some point, leaving his torso bared and visible in the moonlight. His chest was far more scarred than she had thought. Small, circular scars; long, jagged scars…she wondered where he had gotten them all. His comment about dark pasts and shady histories came to mind, but she had pushed them away, deciding to concentrate on the matters at hand.

She sighed again, her eyes moving to rest on Klaus' sleeping form. One strong arm was draped over his taut stomach, the other resting at his side. His head was turned towards her, his breathing even and shallow, and she was amazed he could still be so handsome even in sleep. No frown graced his face. No wary scowl clouded his eyes. He looked content. Peaceful.

Caroline knew this hadn't been the smartest move. She'd been completely sober, yes, but she'd also been angry. Angry and hurt. Mortified, even. She'd wanted to forget Vicki Donovan and her hurtful words; wanted to forget how she could go from confident vixen to insecure victim in so short a time span. She wanted to forget everything—everything but her and Klaus and the way he made her feel like she was the most desired and cherished thing in the entire world.

And forgot she did.

She could still feel the fiery trail his hands had left behind on her skin when he dragged the dress up over her head. She could still feel the coarse hair on his face scrape against the sensitive skin of her thighs. She could still feel the way his tongue had devoured her until she'd nearly forgotten her own name.

She felt that familiar burning in the bottom of her stomach, and as her eyes roamed across his battle-worn chest again, she bit back a strangled moan.

She had sure as hell done it now.

Wrapping the sheet tighter around herself, Caroline carefully slid to the edge of the bed, her feet silently slipping over the side and settling on the ground. She clutched the sheet to her chest with one hand while the other braced beside her. But before she could use the leverage to push herself away from the bed, a firm, familiar hand wrapped around her wrist and gave a sharp tug.

She gasped as she was propelled backwards, keeping a death grip on the sheet around her torso, and looked up to see the slightly groggy face of Klaus Mikaelson blinking down at her.

"Trying to make your escape, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep, as he used his free hand to push the curls out of her face.

She stared up at him, trying to stop the shiver that went through her at the innocent touch of his skin grazing her cheek. His eyebrow arched slightly at her silence, and she shook herself out of her stupor. She shook her head, pushing herself to sit up, attempting to put some distance between them, but his hand stayed latched around her wrist, holding her to him. She sat, leaning her back slightly against his stomach. "I'm not sneaking out," she said, looking everywhere but at him and his handsome, sleepy face. "I'm just…you know…stretching my legs."

Caroline, you stupid, brainless skank.

Klaus' lips quirked up into that smirk she had become so familiar with over the last few days. "Your legs need stretching then, love?" he asked in a cocky tone, the hand around her wrist now tracing lazy patterns against her pulse point. She could swear his smirk widened at the sudden jump in her heart rate.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "As if you didn't kn…like THAT'S why they need stretching. Seriously," she babbled, telling herself that his touch wasn't as distracting as it truly was. She sighed, looking back at him as he propped his chin on her shoulder, his blue eyes staring up at her intently. "I don't regret it," she suddenly said.

He shrugged. "Well, I should hope not," he said nonchalantly. "You were the one who made the first move after all. Jumping me outside the bar like I was a common trollop."

"I did not JUMP you," she said, laughing.

"Oh, I believe you did, love," he said softly, pressing his lips to the bare skin of her shoulder. "Not that you'll hear me complain. I wasn't exactly an innocent victim in the matter."

Caroline closed her eyes when she felt his lips continue to kiss a path across her shoulder and up her neck, the hand around her wrist moving to encircle her waist instead. She snapped her eyes open, breaking away from his hold before it could tighten anymore, and twisted around to look at him. He was like an Adonis, lying there propped on his side, the sheets haphazardly strewn across his hips and legs. She let out a shaky breath, raising her eyes to look into his own. "I don't regret it," she reiterated, her fingers tightening on the sheet around her chest. "But I think...we might have gotten a little carried away. You know, you'd been drinking and I was fresh off the battlefield with Vicki—"

"You're making excuses now, Caroline," Klaus said, pushing himself up until he was sitting against the headboard. Running a hand through his hair and down his face, he looked at her. "Starting to sound like regret to me."

"It's not," she argued, crossing her arms over her chest. "I knew what I was doing and I wanted it—God did I want it." She caught the slight raising of his eyebrows, and she glared at him, kicking herself for letting her wanton confession slip out. "But no matter how much we both might have wanted to end up in bed like this together or whatever the hell circumstances led to it, it doesn't change the fact that this is ridiculously complicated."

"What's so complicated?" Klaus questioned, his eyes unable to keep from traveling along her sheet-clad body. "Boy meets girl, girl meets boy…"

She rolled her eyes. "Sex, yeah, I get it, I know how it works, Klaus."

"Then why the argument? You weren't protesting a few short hours ago."

Caroline scoffed. "Yeah, well, that's because you were distracting me."

With your dimples. And your hands. And your tongue. And your—

Stop it, Caroline! Focus!

"The point of the matter is that four days ago, I didn't even know who you were, Klaus. I STILL don't know who are, really. I don't know anything about you. Other than the fact that you drink bourbon and love your sister and have rescued me at least…twice now. And that when you look at me, like you are right now, I feel like…" She sighed, unable to find the words to complete her train of thought. Or unwilling, she really didn't know. "I don't know. I just feel like since I came back to this town, I've been taken a million steps backwards and suddenly I'm that stupid little girl who jumps into bed with a complete stranger who she knows nothing about just because he called her pretty, and I just…"

Klaus cleared his throat. "Beautiful," he said softly. "I called you beautiful. Pretty wouldn't do you justice."

Caroline let out a laugh, shaking her head as she turned away from him. "That's not the point, Klaus."

"Then what is?" he asked, reaching out to pull her back onto the bed when she made a move to rise from it. "You want to get to know me, Caroline, then go ahead. Talk to me."

She looked at back at him, her eyebrows furrowed, even though a small smile was creeping up on her lips. "What?"

He shrugged, smiling. "You said you didn't want to jump into bed with a complete stranger you know nothing about, so let's remedy that, then. Talk to me." He grinned when her lips twitched again even as she rolled her eyes. "Come on, get to know me."

Caroline laughed, shaking her head. "Just because you tell me some random facts about yourself doesn't mean we're gonna have a repeat, Mikaelson."

Klaus smirked, shrugging. "Well, we'll just have to see where the night takes us then, love," he said, wrapping his fingers around her wrist once more and tugging her closer.

She relented with an eyeroll and an exaggerated sigh, and she curled onto her side and faced him, a small, amused smile on her face.

She learned about him over the next hour or so. She learned that, out of his siblings, he was closest with Rebekah, though he claimed his brother Elijah was his closest friend. He had never really been close with Finn, his other elder brother, and that while he loved his younger brother, Kol, he found him to be irritating and infuriating, which was why they could never be in the same room for long. His youngest brother, Henrick, he hadn't seen in years. He was in school over in England, barely 14, but he spoke about him with a fondness she found endearing. He skirted over the subject of his parents, and though she wanted to push more on the subject, she let him lead her into a subject of more comfort for him.

She learned he enjoyed jazz and classical music, though he enjoyed a good Journey song now and then, and that he preferred books to film and TV. She learned that he could draw—"Much more since I arrived in this one-pony town than I have in years," he said, his eyes caressing her face—and she could swear she could feel the blush down to her toes.

As they spoke, they'd drifted closer to each other on the bed, until they were mere inches apart. Her hands were resting against his chest, and one strong arm was wrapped snugly around her waist while the other cradled her cheek in his hand. Their noses brushed, eyes meeting, and then their lips were pressing together, his tongue slipping into her mouth when she let out a quiet moan.

One hand tangled into the curls on his head while the other caressed the side of his neck. The arm around her waist pulled her closer, and then she was being pushed back into the mattress, his strong body covering hers until they were bare flesh on flesh.

She could feel his length brushing up against her stomach, and she couldn't help the shaky breath she let out against his lips. He pulled away, his lips traveling across her jaw, down the column of her throat. His tongue darted out to trace a wet pattern against her collarbone, her pulse thundering under his ministrations.

Her hand trailed from his neck to his chest, her fingers tracing the many scars. "What about these?" she whispered breathily, feeling his hands travel down to grasp her hips.

"What about them?" he asked distractedly against her skin, one hand moving down to tickle the skin under her knee.

"How did you get them?" she asked, looking down at him when his lips stopped their journey across her chest, and his head raised to gaze up at her with hooded eyes.

He was silent for a long moment before he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Wrong place, wrong time," he murmured, trailing his lips across her cheek. "Bar fights, childhood accidents. There's more than one explanation."

Caroline tilted her head, giving him better access as he kissed down her neck again, lingering at the space where her shoulder met her collarbone. "There are so many though."

"It's a subject for another time, love," he said roughly against her throat, his grip tightening on her hips as he pressed himself against her, smiling when he heard her gasp. "I need to have you."

She knew he was avoiding the subject, but when she felt his fingers slide between her legs and rub against her wet folds, she cried out and pulled his face up to hers, crushing her lips to his. "Take me then," she whispered, shifting on the bed so her legs bracketed his hips and he fit snugly between them.

His fingers stopped their ministrations and she opened her mouth to protest, but then he was thrusting into her, and all she could do was let out a moan as her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. He groaned against her neck, the pleasure mixing with the pain, and he withdrew from her before thrusting back in harder and deeper. They set a steady rhythm, her hips meeting him thrust for thrust. Their breaths mingled as their lips brushed against each other. The bed creaked with their movements, sheets rustling as skin grazed against skin.

Klaus could feel her walls tightening around him, and he pressed a hand to her lower back, pulling her tighter against him. His other hand trailed from her hip and down her thigh, tucking itself underneath her knee as his fingers dug into her skin. He pulled her knee up against his side, angling himself so he could dive deeper into her, and he was rewarded with a strangled cry and the feeling her of her hands tightening around his shoulders.

She was an addiction. Her skin, her mouth, her hands. Every inch of her—inside and out—he was finding himself relishing in. He couldn't walk away from her now, not after finally having her writhing underneath him, her face a mask of complete ecstasy. She was more than an infatuation now—she was an obsession.

"Klaus," he heard her pant, her breath ragged and harsh and heated against the skin of his shoulder. He raised his head, capturing her lips with his, swallowing her moans as his free hand traveled between their bodies and moved to caress her swollen nub. She tore her lips away from his, crying out as she felt her body tense. Her orgasm ripped through her, sending delicious ripples all the way down to her curling toes, and she threw her head back into the pillows.

Klaus sped up his pace, plunging into her frantically as he chased after his own end, coming undone with a low growl against her throat when he felt her walls clench around him again.

He collapsed against her, resting his weight on his forearms, careful not to crush her, and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. He could feel her chest heaving against his as they both came down from their highs. Her hands were resting against his hips now, her fingers tracing nonsensical patterns against the slick skin of his back.

Klaus raised his head, pushing away the strands of hair from Caroline's face as he gazed down at her, pressing his lips softly against hers. She hummed contently against his lips, and he couldn't help but smile before he pulled away, pressing a kiss to her temple as he rolled off of her. His arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her closer until she rested against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, and he felt her fingers tickle down his chest before they hesitated over the long scar that wrapped around his torso.

Caroline felt him tense underneath her, and she let out a breath against his chest, her fingers traveling the length of the scar. "Klaus…" she said softly, a question in her voice.

"Another time, Caroline," he whispered into her hair, pressing his lips against her temple softly.

She nodded, her hands quickly going slack around his waist as she snuggled deeper into his chest. Once again, she drifted off in the comfort of his arms, a dozen questions answered but even more taking their place.

Another time, she said to herself as her eyes drifted shut, but before she fell asleep, she felt his strong hand encase her own and pull it away from where it rested.

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So yeah…this was kind of just a filler chapter. A filler chapter that quite quickly took an a smutty aspect I hadn't originally planned. But oh well. Se la vie.

Leave your thoughts, concerns, and theories in the reviews. I've enjoyed reading your various theories to the story, and I grin when someone gets close. I promise we'll be delving a bit into Klaus' past in the next chapter or so, including the scars that captivate Caroline's attention so. Expect an appearance by another member of the Mikaelson clan soon, as well. Any guesses as to who?

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