Notes: Happy Klaroline Wednesday (it is just after midnight here) So I really am the fluffiest cheeseball imaginable, with this one. This came from one of the au prompt lists that are floating around on Tumblr. The exact prompt is buried in my likes but it's something like, "Person A and Person B share a bathroom wall. Person B always overhears person A singing, until one day they hear more than that" aka smut happens.
If These Walls Could Talk
(AH-AU. Caroline and Klaus are neighbors. The building's old the walls are thin. Klaus is an accidental voyeur, at first. But then it's on purpose. Smut.)
He's rarely awake, at 7 AM. Between the trust fund, and the decent living he makes selling paintings, Klaus is basically nocturnal. He usually sleeps from 4 AM to around noon. But he'd gotten absorbed in a piece that has been giving him trouble for weeks last night, and by the time he'd been satisfied with it, enough to walk away, and glanced at the time, he'd found it was several hours past his usual bedtime.
He'd stretched out the kinks in his back and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He can hear water running, next door. A clanking noise startles him, for a moment, before he rolls his eyes and continues prepping for bed. The building's old, the pipes terrible, and the walls thin. Klaus supposes he should thank his erratic schedule that he's rarely disturbed by the new tenant in 4B. The last couple had been awful, prone to fights at all hours, that he'd heard loud and clear.
The new woman is a lovely blonde, tall and lithe. C. Forbes, according to her mailbox. They've nodded politely to one another in passing, a few times. But he's not had the opportunity to introduce himself, in the month or so since she'd moved in.
He can hear the shower sputter, and the splashes of water hitting the porcelain of the tub that's likely identical to his. His mind wanders. Pictures her bouncy blonde curls becoming heavy with water and reaching down her back to the arse that he'd noted as being quite spectacular, having once come upon her bent over to pick up a dropped piece of mail. Klaus is stuck wondering what color her nipples would be when he hears her start to sing.
He braces himself for terrible pop music, is pleasantly surprised when instead he hears the first verse of a Beatles song. Klaus drops his toothbrush, and takes a step towards wall that divides their apartments to hear her better. He needn't have bothered, as she's cheerfully belting 'Hold Me Tight' by the time she reaches the chorus.
He continues to listen, as she finishes, then starts in on another song. Fiona Apple, this time, and the stab of arousal he feels at the sultry way she purrs out, 'I've been a bad, bad, girl…" makes him vow to learn her name as soon as fucking possible.
He manages it on Sunday. He's coming home from the mandatory brunch with his siblings that Elijah insisted he attend once a month, that Klaus habitually showed up to unshaven and underdressed, just to be contrary. Every time he could see Elijah struggle not to comment, and every time he took it as a personal victory when Elijah lost said struggle. One had to enjoy the little things.
C. Forbes is pulling groceries out of the back of her little black hatchback when he gets out of his car. He approaches, deliberately making noise, so not to startle her. Her eyes are narrowed and wary when she looks up, though her expression becomes more neutral as she seems to recognize him.
She straightens, offers him a small smile, "4A, right?"
"Right. Most people call me Klaus, though."
That causes her to raise an eyebrow, "I thought it was N. Mikaelson?"
"Studying up on me, love?" Klaus teases.
She meets his eyes, unimpressed with his first attempt at flirting, "My mother's a cop. I don't want to be one of those people on the news who's all, 'oh, but he seemed so nice!' when it turns out their neighbor was making skin suit, you know?"
Klaus can't help but laugh for a moment as she continues to stare him down, "It's Niklaus, actually. But only my mother and my older brothers use my full name."
"Oh, well then," she relaxes slightly, and holds out a hand, "I'm Caroline. Sorry I implied that you might be a serial killer."
"It's not a problem," Klaus answers, taking her hand, perhaps holding it a touch too long, "I've a sister, myself, so I understand the caution. It's a pleasure to meet you."
So her neighbor? Ridiculously hot. She'd kind of known it, of course. They'd run into each other a handful of times and she wasn't blind. Caroline had found her eyes lingering on his shoulders in the tight t-shirts he wore, wondering at the texture of his dark blonde curls. But, having only ever interacted with him briefly, she'd never really gotten the opportunity to absorb his attractiveness. His mouth alone is the stuff dirty dreams are made of. The dimples, blue eyes and unexpected accent? Cherries on top of the already delicious sundae.
He offers to help her carry her groceries up. Asks all the right questions about how she'd liking Chicago, her job and her hometown.
Caroline's not too sure if he's genuinely charming or it it's her epic dry spell but the little devil on her shoulder is telling her to yank him into her apartment and shove her tongue in his mouth. It's probably the dry spell. It's been nearly a year since she broke up with Jessie, and five months since that one night stand that had ended up being colossally disappointing. So she'll listen to the little angel that's telling her he's just being neighborly and polite.
Stupid angel.
Unlocking her door she turns to relieve him of the two bags he'd carried up, "Well, Klaus. I guess I'll see you around?"
He smirks at her, walks a few steps backward until he's in front of his door, less than ten feet away, "Looks like it, love."
Caroline Forbes is a creature of habit, Klaus finds. Up by 6:45 AM, out her door at 8:30. She gets home between 6 and 8 PM. He catches her on the later days once or twice when he's taking out his trash and notes a duffle bag, so he assumes she goes to the gym, or perhaps does yoga (leading to some very inappropriate thoughts about how he'd like to test her flexibility). She grocery shops on Sunday mornings. Picks up her dry-cleaning on Thursday evenings. Has a bit of an addiction to online shopping, if the packages he sees her juggle occasionally are any indication.
He wonders about her lack of a social life. Klaus isn't much of a people person, but she strikes him as the opposite. She is fairly new to the city, and she hadn't been shy about her ambitions, when she'd spoken of her career. Still, he wonders about the men (because he's not blind to the hint of lust in the appraising glances she shoots his way) of this city, that none of them seem interested in inviting such a gorgeous creature out for an evening.
Since meeting her, he's taken to drawing her, particularly fascinated by perfecting the exact pattern of the freckles on her nose. There'd been something enthralling about her, every time they've spoken. The quick comebacks, maybe, or the easy way she laughs with him. He has found himself wanting to know Caroline, for more than just a few nights, a rare thing for him indeed, that grows each time they converse.
Klaus can admit, privately, that he might be a tad infatuated.
She sings in the shower every morning, and on the evenings when she comes home closer to 8. He's not even aware that he's doing it, at first, but gradually Klaus finds himself in his bathroom, listening to her move around, closing his eyes and letting her voice wash over him, more often than not.
It's Friday evening, and her week's gone terribly. She skips the gym because she's going to make peanut butter cookies as a pick me up when she gets home, so why bother exercising? She kicks off her heels, the second she crosses the threshold, and pulls the pins out of her hair. Caroline hooks her phone up to her stereo, turns it up a bit too loud (but it's Friday, and barely 6 PM so sue her) to her sunniest playlist.
She wipes off her makeup, changes into a pair of shorts and a tank top then twists her hair up and out of the way. She's dancing to the beat in no time, mixing ingredients, when disaster strikes: she is out of eggs.
She considers running out to the store. But does she want to get dressed, and drive somewhere, for one measly egg? No, she really does not. Caroline debates scraping the cookies, but she really wants them, and would hate having to waste more than a cup of peanut butter.
Caroline's eyes catch on the wall that separates her 4B from Klaus' 4A. He'd seemed nice enough, friendly even, the few times they'd talked. Perhaps he would help her out? She'd do it for him.
With a mental shrug Caroline grabs her keys. It wouldn't hurt to ask, now would it?
The knock on the door is unexpected. Klaus severely discouraged drop in visits, though Rebekah did not seem to care, and Kol sometimes popped by purely to annoy him. He's supposed to meet Marcel at a bar downtown, in an hour, had been busy getting ready when he heard the pounding, so it won't be him.
Klaus checks the peephole, not above pretending not to be home if it's someone he doesn't want to deal with. He's surprised, and pleased, to be greeted by the sight of the neighbor that's been haunting his waking (and sleeping, to be honest) thoughts. He debates putting on a shirt, decides against it. It couldn't hurt to encourage the fact that she evidently found him appealing, at least physically, could it?
He quickly undoes the lock and throws open the door.
Caroline's mouth opens, but nothing comes out, as her eyes rake his bare torso. Her tongue peeks out, to wet her plump lower lip, and Klaus preens internally, "What can I do for you, Caroline?" he asks, when still she does not speak. Not that he'd minded the opportunity to take her in. The shorts she's wearing are very tiny, offering up miles of bare skin for his viewing pleasure, and he's fairly certain there's no bra under her loose, sleeveless shirt.
Her eyes snap up, and the tips of her ears turn bright red, "Right. Sorry. Too busy ogling you like a drooling moron. That was probably super creepy of me, wasn't it?"
Klaus shrugs, "I didn't mind, love. And I saw not a trace of drool."
Her eyes widen in shock, "Um… okay. Eggs. An egg, I mean."
"You need an egg?" Klaus asks, just to clarify.
"Yes. Just one. In return I can supply you with four of the greatest cookies you'll ever put in your mouth."
"I like the confidence. Come on in and I'll grab an egg for you."
He steps back to let her pass, but purposefully doesn't give her a lot of room, so her bare shoulder brushes the skin of his chest as she passes. Her eyes dart around the room, "Have you lived here long?" she asks.
"Three years," Klaus answers, gently grabbing her elbow to steer her towards the kitchen. There's likely an open sketchbook or two, strewn about the living room, and he'd hate to spook her if they happened to be open on an image he'd sketched of her.
She stumbles slightly, her eyes fixed on a painting on the far wall, and bumps into him, "God, you smell good," she blurts out, immediately clapping her hand over her mouth afterwards.
Klaus raises an eyebrow, "Thank you, love."
Caroline ducks her head, "Sorry! You must be about ready to file a restraining order."
"It's fine, Caroline. Really. Compliments from a beautiful woman are good for my ego, I think." And considering he regularly eavesdropped on her in the shower Klaus was quite sure she wasn't the one dipping her toes in stalkeresque behavior. But that wasn't the sort of thing you told a lady you were interested in getting to know better.
She bites her lip, "I'd tell you that I'm usually not like this but honestly my brain to mouth filter isn't the best."
"Truthfully, I'm not one for sugar coating, myself," Klaus leans in conspiratorially, "You don't know me very well, just yet, but I'm really not very nice."
"'Just yet?'" she repeats with a hint of a smile, "Now who's confident?"
The knock on her door isn't unexpected. Klaus had explained last night, that he'd been on his way out to meet a friend for drinks, and she'd told him to stop by whenever, the next day, to collect the cookies she'd promised him. Caroline Forbes honored her bargains, always. And who was she kidding? She wanted to see him. Had in fact strained her ears listening for him to come home (which he had, at around one AM) curious as to if he'd have company. He'd been alone, as far as she could tell, and she'd gone to sleep smiling.
Caroline might have gotten up a little early, to curl her hair and put on a little mascara, in preparation. And okay, the push up bra probably wasn't necessary for a lazy Saturday, either. But she'd noted his preoccupation with her assets last night, and it couldn't hurt to make the most of them. She's fairly certain he'd answered the door half-naked yesterday for much the same reason.
And hey, the added detail the tattoos had brought to her dreams of him underneath her, and in her bed, had been much appreciated.
She's resolved to flirt, and flirt hard. He'd mentioned last night that he's an artist, most productive in the wee hours. Given how infrequently she'd seen him around, Caroline's fairly certain she can avoid him like the plague if she crashes and burns. But her gut's telling her he's receptive, and the way he makes her body hum with his voice and his smell and his proximity has her thinking that her dry spell's about to be broken in a spectacular fashion.
Checking to make sure it's him, she opens the door with a smile, "Hey, Klaus. Come on in."
"Thank you," he replies and surveys her place in much the same way as she probably had upon entering his space last night. "You've done a lot with the place," he noted. "Considering you've only lived here, what? Two months?"
"Just about," Caroline agreed, "I'm not really the type that can leave things half unpacked. I was pretty much done within three days."
He grins at her, like he finds that endearing and not terrifying. Another point in his 'pro' column.
"How was your night, last night?" Caroline asks, hoping she doesn't sound like she's fishing for information. She grabs the Tupperware container that holds the cookies and leads him towards the couch. She tucks one leg underneath her and sits so she's facing him.
"It was fine. Nothing exciting."
"Meet anyone interesting?" she prods, cringing internally because that was the opposite of subtlety.
Klaus accepts a cookie, chews thoughtfully and swallows before answering, "At the bar? No. Marcel was quite put out with me, truth be told. Said that I was a miserable failure as a wingman."
Caroline giggles, "I find that hard to believe."
"And why's that, love?"
Caroline leans her head to the side, lets her eyes wander his body in a slow appreciative perusal, "Well, not to make you think I'm creepy, again…"
"I never thought you were," Klaus interjects.
"But you're really hot. And this is America. The accent alone boosts your scoring power, even if the package wasn't quite so appealing."
Klaus nods seriously, though his eyes remain mischievous, "That's quite true. And I cannot lie, I've used it to my advantage, a time or two…"
"I'll bet," Caroline says archly.
"But I just couldn't find it in myself to feign interest in any of the women who approached me, last night."
"Oh?" Caroline wonders, "And why was that?"
"Because of you, Caroline."
Caroline can't stop the harsh breath that she sucks in.
"Would you go to dinner, with me, tonight?" he asks, catching her gaze.
Wow. When her instincts were right, they were really, really right. She's nodding, before she even really decides to accept, "I'd like that," she tells him.
He grabs her arm, kisses the back of her hand, like this is one of those cheesy romance novels she's got stuffed under her bed. Though the wicked little rasp of tongue between her knuckles affects her far more strongly than written words ever had, "Good," Klaus replies simply, "I'll pick you up at 7."
Klaus makes reservations at his favorite Italian restaurant. He hadn't thought to ask her if she had any preferences but he figures just about everyone likes pasta. He decides to shave (his inner Elijah railing at him to look presentable, for a lady he intended to woo). He hears the water start up at Caroline's place, and cannot help the smile that spreads across his face. He waits for her voice to start up, is surprised when it doesn't. He doesn't hear the banging that indicated she's engaged the shower head, either.
He continues to lather his face, idly listening out of habit. Eventually he hears the squeak of Caroline turning off her taps. He hears water moving, and it takes a second for it to register that she must've run a bath.
She's quiet, and Klaus misses her singing. He's bringing the razor up, and then he hears a noise, that is unmistakably a moan. His hand jerks, and he nicks his chin. He bites the inside of his cheek to force the curse that wants to come out down. Klaus is under no illusions that he won't have to confess to his habit of listening to her shower, but he wants her to be a little more invested in him before that happens.
A slightly louder moan comes from the other side of the wall and his fists clench.
If he were a gentleman, he'd leave the room, but Klaus wasn't kidding when he told her he wasn't a nice guy. He grabs a chunk of toilet paper to stop the bleeding, and climbs into his bathtub to get closer to the wall.
Pressing his ear to the tile he can hear the water moving, and his very vivid imagination conjures a picture of her in the tub, one long leg hooked over the edge, one hand tugging on a nipple, the other working between her thighs. Another moan, a harshly panted sobbing breath and a murmured, 'Oh, god," have him palming the erection that's now demanding attention.
He can't hear much, for a few seconds, just the water lapping, though he thinks it's more rapid. Finally, there's a distinct splash and she says, "Fuck, Klaus!" and his brain shorts out because he's fairly certain she'd just come, and it had been his name on her lips when she had.
Klaus is stepping out of the tub and wiping the shaving cream off his face, as soon as he can think again. He yanks open the drawer he stashes condoms in and grabs several. Fuck dinner, they could order in.
Later. Much later.
Caroline is rudely yanked from a delightful post orgasm haze (the waterproof vibrator might have been a gag, 'sorry about your breakup!' gift from Kat, but it had turned out to be pretty awesome, and useful) by an insistent banging on her front door. She groans, sinks her ears under the water, and hopes whoever it is will go away. She's seriously considering a second round.
When she emerges, a few minutes later, the knocker is persisting. With a few muttered expletives she wrings out her hair and throws on a robe, fully intending to make whoever interrupted her 'me' time suffer if what they wanted wasn't life and death.
"What?" she snaps when she yanks open the door. Caroline briefly registers that it's Klaus, with some surprise. He's wild-eyed and there's a streak of shaving cream on his jaw but he's got his hands in her hair and his mouth pressed to hers before she can ask him what's wrong.
There's no gentle teasing, no asking for permission, in this kiss. He angles her head how he wants it and he plunders, walking her backwards into her apartment and kicking the door shut behind him. Caroline clutches his forearms, and fights to keep up.
They stumble into the arm of her couch, and he tears his mouth away, only to work his way down her neck, sucking and biting and licking until her mind is spinning.
She shifts around the edge, and sits, ungracefully, and Klaus follows her down, urging her to lie back and settling himself between her thighs. Her eyes pop open, feeling how hard he is, when he rubs against her. She hitches one leg over his hip and rocks herself against him, still sensitive from her solo play in the bathtub, and he immediately grinds back.
Klaus is kissing down her sternum, the v of her robe barely covering her breasts, "Klaus," she gasps, finally finding her words, "wait."
He stills above her, tenses like he means to push off, but she grabs his neck and uses her leg to keep him in place, "No. Not wait like, stop. Wait like, why?"
He relaxes against her slightly, hauls himself up to kiss her again, slowly this time. Her lips cling to his, she moans when he disengages, "I heard you," he tells her, "just now. In the bathtub."
And that was super mortifying. Caroline turns her face away from him, but he nudges her chin back, forcing her eyes to meet his, "You've nothing to be ashamed of, love. I shouldn't have intruded, but the walls are paper thin. I heard you say my name and I just couldn't wait. I had to touch you."
"Oh," Caroline says, dumbfounded.
"I've been listening to you sing, for weeks now."
"Oh no," she sighs, closing her eyes in embarrassment.
"Oh yes. It's why I decided I had to know your name, actually."
Caroline can't help but look at him, at that. He's got a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and his eyes are soft and lit with an affection that makes her heart beat a bit faster, "Seriously?" she can't help but say, skeptically.
He nods, "It's why I helped you with your bags that day."
Caroline considers him for a long moment, runs her nails lightly down the back of his neck, feels the shiver of pleasure he's helpless to hide. Oh, it was going to be good between them. "Okay, don't think we're not going to have a conversation about boundaries, at some point. A girl needs so have some secrets. And I'm pretty sure some reciprocity is required here."
"You want to listen to me wank in the bath?" Klaus asks in disbelief.
"I want to watch you," Caroline corrects him, delighting in the little flicker of interest that crosses his face, "the bath part's optional."
"Anytime, sweetheart," Klaus says lowly.
Caroline nods, in mock seriousness, "Alright then. Carry on."
Klaus takes her seriously and has her robe open in no time, his tongue wrapped around a nipple. He brings a hand up to play with the other, and Caroline arches her back in a wordless demand for more, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt. She tugs on it, and he takes the hint, rising to his knees to pull it off. She sits up to shrug off her robe and lies back down.
He watches her for a few minutes, eyes devouring her bare body. She stretches her arms above her head with a smirk, "Well? You barged in here. Let's get this show on the road."
He pushes one of her legs off the couch and has a hand on her pussy immediately. Caroline moans, makes a mental note that taunting him has very favorable outcomes. Klaus strokes her clit gently, then with purpose as she writhes beneath him on the couch.
She's very wet, and it has little to do with the bath she'd emerged from not too long ago, so his fingers sink into her easily and his groan echoes hers as he moves his fingers. She chases them when they leave her, and brings her hands up to cup her breasts. His blue eyes are dark and measuring as he watches her heatedly and she quickly grows impatient when he shows no inclination to move things along, just keeps her on the quivering edge.
With one last impatient groan she rears up, surprising him, and climbs into his lap, pushing him back against the arm of the couch, "I'm done with the teasing, Klaus."
Caroline sits back on his thighs, kisses down his chest and abdomen as she goes for his belt. She fumbles with the buttons of his fly when she looks up to see him sucking her arousal off of his fingers, "Condom?" she demands.
"Pocket," he supplies, and perhaps she'll forgive the torturous build up since he came prepared.
She grasps the foil packet, he helps her get his jeans down, and she can feel him kicking them off. She puts the condom between her teeth and wraps her hand around his cock, strokes him firmly, because payback's a bitch.
His head tips back against the couch, and she leans down to trace a tendon with her tongue and teeth. The strangled groan of her name, and the way he twitches underneath her are intensely satisfying. But she wants him inside of her so she rips open the condom and he helps her roll it on.
She leans forward, rising on her knees, and grips the back of the couch. She places him at her opening and slides down his cock, slowly.
He grips her hips, so tightly she might have bruises tomorrow, his entire body taut.
She smiles down at him, throws her head back on a sigh when he's buried all the way inside of her. He feels incredible, and she's kind of kicking herself for not jumping his bones weeks ago when they'd first been introduced.
"Caroline," Klaus pants, "move."
She gives an experimental circle of her hips, before rising and sinking back down. She's the one that moans this time, and when he slides his hand up her thigh and begins to rub her clit, she's the one calling his name and asking for more.
They move together like they've done this a dozen times, and his mouth is on her breasts again in no time. She runs her hands through his hair, chases her release, eventually losing her rhythm as her entire body tenses and she lets go. Klaus has her, though, his hands on her back keeping her steady as he pumps into her a few more times and before he gasps her name and comes.
Klaus falls back onto her couch boneless, pulling her to sprawl against his side. He reaches over his head, fumbles for the box of tissues and deals with the condom. He wraps his arms around her and plays with her hair as their breathing returns to normal.
Caroline props her chin up on his chest, "So does this mean we're not going out for dinner?"
Klaus laughs softly, "Up to you, love. If we hurry we can still make our reservation."
"Hmm," Caroline pretends to think about it, "How about we take a nap, order a pizza to refuel, and then I give you a tour of the rest of my apartment?"
"Sounds perfect," Klaus agrees, pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch down to cover them.
THE END.