This was written for getyourwordsout's Yahtzee prompt "gamy" (which means "having the tangy flavor or odor of game;
having the flavor or odor of game or other meat kept uncooked until slightly tainted"). I had to write over 700 words.
This is obviously an AU. I will forever be fascinated by the push/pull, respect and hate between Katherine and Klaus.
summary: Katherine's not pleased with Klaus' idea of a birthday gift.
i'm a survivor
part four: gift
Katherine glares at the plate in front of her. Keeping her hands on her lap, she arches her brow and looks up at him. "Really?"
"What?" Klaus smiles, standing beside her chair. A blue dishtowel hangs over his forearm casually. She dislikes how well he wears it. With a smile, he says brightly, "I thought I'd do something very special for my girl—"
"I'm not your girl."
"—and spoil her on her birthday," he continues, voice a little terse. Smiling at her a little too sweetly now, Katherine enjoys the sour pinch to his lips. Pinning her with his stare, Katherine tilts her head to the side and regards him with a bored look of contempt.
According to him, he's cooked her a roast. She highly doubts his fingers even touched a knife to carve it, despite his penchant for gutting wolves and undead beings with his bare hands. No, the servant sitting in the kitchen idly twiddling his thumbs had done the cooking for him. He doesn't smell of the right kind of sweat. Klaus is sweaty from his run as a wolf, not his jog as a kitchen chef.
Besides, she had wished for this in 1491. Katerina had wanted a roast so she could enjoy him fluttering around the kitchen. Katherine wants to shove the chicken leg he's cut neatly for her down his throat.
"You got one thing right," she says, leaning back in her chair. Sagging against it, she notes how his lips turn downward before curling up again forcefully. She likes this look on him the best, the one that shows she's usurped him yet again from his delicate, temperamental throne. "You spoiled it."
Klaus rolls his eyes. "Come on, Katerina, love. Let's not pretend that you've ever been spoiled on your birthday since 1491. The Salvatores most certainly didn't spoil you…" Narrowing his eyes, he taps his fingers to his chin, the dishtowel falling to the crook of his elbow. "Or did they? Is that when you decided to take them both into your bed?"
Inhaling deeply, she glares up at him. "No," she says tightly. "But if you want to know, I can tell you all the sexy details."
He shakes his head, gesturing with a dismissive sweep of his hand. "No, that's not necessary, sweetheart. I know what I had for my five hundredth birthday and that had been you moaning around my—"
He laughs as she pushes her chair back abruptly. Turning on her heel, she storms to the second door of the dining room, knowing that he's following her. She can feel his smile burn the back of her head.
"I was just reminiscing, come on! Let's have an enjoyable birthday dinner together." Klaus' footsteps lengthen and his fingers hook around the crook of her elbow, forcing her to stop. She doesn't turn to face him despite his gentle tugs. "Look, no more taking the piss, then. I'll be a good boy for the birthday girl."
Scoffing, she shakes her head. Looking at him, she doesn't tear her arm out from his grip. "I'd like to see you try," she says with a smile. "Klaus Mikaelson, being good and selfless? Not making anything about him? Hm. I'd love to see it."
His brows lift up in curiosity. She can hear his heart slow down, beating a little heavier and comfortably now. "Is that what you want for your birthday? To see me be good?"
Biting on her bottom lip, Katherine makes a show of eyeing him. He keeps his fingers pressed in the crook of her elbow, his touch gentle rather than domineering. Before, when he'd brought her to New Orleans as his little doppelgänger captive, he'd grab her roughly and dig his claws into her skin. These days, he merely touches her like she's one of his prized paintings.
"Yes," she says, looking up at him deviously. She notes how he swallows thickly and audibly. "Can you be a good boy, Niklaus?" His cheek twitches at his birth name, but his grip remains light and calm.
Clearing his throat, he furrows his brows. "I could consider it."
"No," she says firmly. "You said you'd be good. Are you lying on my birthday? That's rude, you know. I might report you to the birthday police."
He narrows his eyes. "You're making fun of me."
She regards him with a tilt of her head. "Am I?" Shaking his hand off her arm, Katherine takes a step closer to him. Shoving at his shoulders, she pushes him to the ground. He lands with a loud thump.
Quick to straddle his hips, she glides her hands down the fabric of his shirt, feeling the threads begin to fray beneath her nails. His heart sings for her now, beating impossibly fast. Hovering over his face, she lets the tip of her nose glide against his cheek.
"Maybe this is what I want for my birthday," she says, licking at his cheek. His breathing grows shallow with repressed anger and the desire to control her. She presses her hands sharply against his biceps to keep him against the ground. "You beneath me."
"Well—" Klaus clears his throat. "I'd consider it."
Katherine merely hums, gliding her hand down his arm. Tugging the dishtowel free, she sits up on him as if he's her throne. Pulling the dishtowel taut, she arches her brow at him.
"I think you need some help being quiet, don't you? Can't have you howling like a wolf on my day."
At his pleased smile, she brushes the towel against his chin. He opens his mouth obligingly before she presses it between his lips. She wonders how long it'll take for him to tear it with his teeth. She pulls her shirt up and over her head before shifting on his hips and tugging the buckle of his belt and then the zipper of his jeans open.
Peering down at him gagged and compliant, she singsongs, "Happy birthday to me."
notes.
Thanks for reading!