serendipity (n); finding luck without even looking for it.
prompted by melissa (goldcaught) on tumblr. sequel to you were swinging for mars. please read that first!
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said the world could be burning;
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Caroline is drinking from his wrist, with such leisure. Her tongue is hot and wet around his skin, seeking out the vein, the blood, the madness, everything he's ever wanted to give her. Her throat hums, filled with red, sloshing and sated. She loves this. She loves his blood. He thinks he sees stars when he blinks.
He'd lost, Elijah had won with not even a speck of dirt on him, and the Original siblings, the losers, Elijah allows a moment for such kitsch and all had quietened for the moment.
Until Caroline barges into his art studio, eyes wide and quite frightful, demanding apology for using her house as platform for their twisted little game. She looks as if she's come back to avenge his breaking of her wrist. He allows her to break his, right before she bites into it.
It's painful, but Klaus had always liked pain, always a little bit turned on by it, always grins when he fights. Caroline drinks deep and messily, and the moan of his name from her pink-red lips is enough to send him.
"Love," he manages, voice rough, "you're getting greedy. My turn."
"No," she responds in a voice just as thick as his, though it's probably less in arousal and more with the kind of hunger only a vampire like her can have. "You've taken your sweet time in my skin. It's still my turn."
Klaus snarls. She'd trapped him to his sofa, paying no mind to the painted parchment scattered there, torned and ruined and speckled with his blood.
Her thighs wrap around his lap, her dress is pooled around her, and she's started to rock ever so sinfully slow as she continues drinking. He'd let her drink from him for hours, he hadn't even needed to go look for her.
She'd stumbled through the door, wild and starving, and had eyes only on the pulse in his throat.
Every swallow of his blood in her mouth hitches a lost breath in his throat. She continues grinding down on him, denim through cotton and then - more cotton, but damp. Klaus can smell her, his sweetheart, getting high off his blood. Maybe that's why he doesn't heed her demands and grabs her hair, her neck, pulling her to his teeth.
He only allows his fangs to drop once he's tasted the salty need on her skin, and she cries out, angered that he's gone against her wishes, and the taste of her blood changes to accommodate the heat. She tastes like no other blood he's ever had, of just need and breath and woman, and he can't help that little chant in his head – a plea, really – his Caroline, his Caroline, his Caroline.
Perhaps it's more than a bit fucked, and Finn would make a face at his crass use of words, but he'd ambushed her at her dance, broken her wrist, watched her burn his impression of her and then stolen a kiss – and still she comes, still she wants him, who she considers his equal. He doesn't know why that knowledge makes his undead heart pump faster, make the blood hotter as it drips now. Caroline has never been a clean eater. Klaus is delighted Caroline allows him to see.
His tongue had been ghosting her skin, lost in his thoughts, and he takes another long pull.
He wonders what her cunt would taste like, mingled with all that blood, and nearly pushes her down into the leather of the couch thinking about it. He wants her, and wants to take her.
He doesn't know what he'll do if she says no. That would probably have been the biggest exercise in restraint he'll ever manage to pull off.
And still they drink. He forgets how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed. She drinks from him like she'll never stop, like she'll always be thirsty.
"You scare me," she chokes through his blood, "You're so hateful, I hate you."
Klaus retracts his fangs and grabs her chin, forcing her lips away from his wrist, to force her blues into his. "You don't," he says roughly, "and you fucking know it."
"Fuck you," she hisses.
"Please," he says, before claiming her lips. The kiss is not their first but he wishes it was – she's all need and whimpers of his name so gently, so softly, as if she hadn't just announced her hatred of him mere seconds ago.
Caroline drinks from him, this kiss, as if it was blood, as if it was breath. She loses herself, and he's not even inside her yet. Oh, what a marvel his Caroline is.
Her fingers tear lines down his shirt. Klaus imagines her in her boa and her carefully done-up, hairsprayed curls, remembering how badly he wanted to just tear into her dress that night of the dance. He thinks she would have even let him, how angry she had been at him that night.
He rolls his hips up, pressing harder into her none-too-gently, and she lets out another cry. It's not his name, and he wants it to be, how she'd whispered it into his blood-soaked tongue earlier.
He does it again, and she cries out again, red trickling from her open mouth down her chin. He's never seen her look so wild. Like she's part of the green forest that surrounds his home. He succumbs into her as easily as he falls into leaf, dirt and evergreen every full moon.
Their kiss lingers as long as their sharing of blood had. He chances a glance out the windows carved into the high ceiling and sees that it's nighttime now, remembering quite well that the sun had just begin to set when she'd set her fangs on him.
And with that, he pulls her dress off. Like it's playthings made for a doll, so delicate under his grasping fingers. Caroline allows this, and pulls a straight finger straight through his buttons. They clatter onto the pool of blood on the floor noiselessly, the room is quiet save for their harsh intakes of breath when the kiss finally ends.
Caroline drinks from him again, from his neck this time.
It's like a game of who can last longest, who can show the most restraint. He'd spent nights in her room whilst he'd been searching for Kol, and the way Caroline breathes on those nights turn slow and dangerous, like she'd known he was there in the shadows of her cheer trophies.
She'd only given him ten seconds, and she gives herself longer to enjoy his neck.
With the way they're desperately thrusting at each other now they might as well be naked, her clenching around his cock. The only thing separating their heat is her panties, cotton and white and driving him mad, and his jeans. Even her shoes are still on, and isn't that a sight.
Klaus thinks Caroline will wear a hole through his trousers so he tears himself away from her long enough to shuck them off. "it's for your benefit," he says a touch cheekily. Caroline makes a sound of approval before pushing him down onto the couch. If he reaches down, he can just about press her clit and feel how slick it is, and, yes, he thinks he'll do that.
"You're gushing, sweetheart," he groans, before her lips shut him up. But because he's an asshole, he still says against her lips, "So wet for me."
"It's because you taste so good," she whispers, helping him take off his shirt, because she hasn't allowed for much space between them. Less clothes now, better, he thinks, before he rolls them down to the floor.
His hand cradles the curls on the back of her head before it can hit the polished wood, and he presses all his need into her, where she's soaked right through her panties. Her fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders as if telling him, yes Klaus, she likes how rough he's being, but she wants more.
Caroline wants Klaus inside her, wants him in his bed, wants him in the woods, wants him in his art studio, standing up, wants to fuck him in his stupid swivel chair, wants him in every position imaginable, and wants him now.
She almost doesn't know herself, doesn't know why she came to him when the sight of Elijah clawing his way out of her lawn became too much for her, his games are just too much for her.
"Keep your hands above your head," Klaus warns her, before licking his way down her neck, to her breasts. Her bra is divested easily and he sucks at her tits, wants to bite down and show no restraint. Caroline doesn't know why she listens, but keeps her wrists far above her. Klaus makes his way down, slowly, then he's lapping at her pussy right through her panties, tongueing them aside to mark her clit red with his tongue.
There's still so much of her blood in his mouth, and now there's a different taste entirely.
And really, Caroline shouldn't be so surprised that Klaus is so good at eating pussy, he's a thousand years old, he must have learned. But she's not ready for how her hips buck up and how she has to muster every ounce of her strength to not grab his hair and push his tongue deeper into her.
God, he makes her so wet and she hates it. She hates how she fingers herself at night thinking about him doing exactly this. Eating her out, making her gasp.
Her fingers scratch at the floor, held together as if by some magic invisible ribbon. Her spin hurts from where it keeps banging against the floor with every buck of her hips, goes mindless over how he's licking her open so enthusiastically. She'd imagined he would like the taste of her, but didn't think he'd show it so honestly in his delighted swallows.
Just as Caroline thinks she's going to lose it, Klaus stops. She almost sobs, the feeling slamming into her so suddenly. The loss of Klaus.
"I could do this all night," Klaus says, with his damning smirk, and crawls over her.
Caroline doesn't know why she finds that so hot. "Prove it," she dares him.
With a flash he hadn't anticipated Caroline is above him now, riding him, almost. "You're so mean, Klaus – I could – I could have loved you, in time, I knew it from the first moment I drank your blood."
"Caroline?" Klaus blinks, did she just say-?
"But you just keep trying to kill me, you have no idea what you do, do you?" She pulls her panties aside to let him feel how wet she is. There are tears crushed behind her dark lashes. "You just can't help it."
"Sweetheart—" Klaus tries again.
"And then you come with your stupid sweet words and the cycle starts all over again—"
Caroline had said it, he'd heard her, he's sure, he's not that crazy that his hearing has gone. She had said love, she felt something for him, something deep and true, something that he might feel too, despite all the violence.
Klaus cups her face. He's gentle now, he's ready to submit. The hate seemed to drain out of her then, replaced by something so soft that when she sinks down on him, he almost doesn't realise.
His hard length inside her, she lets out a breath and moves at a pace he'd never imagine them moving in. Slow. Tender. But there's something underneath—
"No more, Klaus." The tears are gone now, in their place unshakable rage. She means to end him if he doesn't obey her. "I mean it. No more luring traps into my house. No more kidnapping me to further a scheme against Elena. No more hurting me."
"I never want to," Klaus says, sweat breaking across his forehead. "I didn't mean it, Caroline—" She clenches down on him so tightly the sensation of it travels through her whole body, "—you're going to kill me."
"I will," Caroline promises. "I want your word, Klaus."
"Come on my cock first," Klaus tries, reaching desperately for her "Fuck—"
"Yes, I know I'm fucking you," Caroline says impatiently, putting her whole weight on him, dripping for him. "I won't come until you promise me," Caroline adds belatedly, but it's with a whimper now, she's so close.
Goddamn it, it undoes him, because he clutches her close, whispers raggedly, "You have my word, sweetheart—."
Caroline finds her orgasm, a whole otherworldly rush, and he follows soon after. His fingers hold onto her so hard that he's sure he'll see his brand on her skin even days later.
It takes a while for them to catch their breath. Caroline is slumped against his chest, her nose in his neck. He feels every breath she blows on his neck, where she'd bitten him.
The air is so thick with the smell of their mingled release that he's sure any one of his siblings would smell it as soon as they walked through the door. And oh, he'd be teased mercilessly.
Couldn't keep it in your pants, brother? Kol would say.
But there's time for that later.
The weight of Klaus' promise makes him sink further into the floor, his cock still inside Caroline, holding her close.
"One more thing, sweetheart," Klaus says sleepily, stroking her ruined curls.
"What?" she asks, already groaning at whatever stupid thing he's going to say.
"I let Elijah win," Klaus grins wickedly.
Caroline groans louder this time, and it makes his cock twitch interestedly. "Shut up and get on the couch. If your age hasn't caught up to you yet, we're going again. But I'm going to suck you off first."
Klaus lifts her up easily and acquiesces. "We've got all night."
"You did promise that, too," Caroline says primly, and with that, they start again.
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The town is quieter after that, no more games, no more gloating.
Caroline forgets what she'd said to Klaus in her rage.
But Klaus doesn't. He never forgets.
He knows he's promised her no more games, but the thought of chasing her to the end of millennia excited him endlessly.
Love, she'd said, and he keeps it close to his chest.
He'll make her remember.
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fin