Notes: A sequel to "we're better if we weather it" (the first drabble in Chapter 8) the one where Klaroline are roommates and Caroline's afraid of storms. Because my brain just could not focus on any of the ongoing fics today.
dark skies, tell no lies
(Loosely inspired by a prompt from thetourguidebarbie: "The 'I always feel bad watching spiders drown in the shower so if I see one I have to rescue it and this one is being really stubborn and seems to just want to stay stuck to the wall and so this is how you found me with my towel half off on the floor of the dorm's communal bathroom trying to convince a spider to get onto my hand' AU." Title from "Stormy" by Hedley. Smut.)
The next morning got… weird.
The day had dawned sunny and beautiful, birds actually chirping, outside Klaus' window, the sounds of the city muted, since it was only just waking up.
High above it all, Caroline had stirred, bits and pieces of some extremely good dreams drifting away. Cracking her eyes open she realized, with some dismay, that she was still draped across Klaus bare chest. And, mortifyingly, one of her hands was resting very, low on his stomach. Like, almost touching certain, uh, engorged, private pants areas, low.
Caroline had been pretty tempted to move her hand to a slightly more PG rated place, close her eyes, and go back to sleep. Because she was comfy, damn it. And it was way easier to ignore what a jackass Klaus usually was when he was a.) silent and b.) a really yummy smelling human pillow.
And he'd said he had to work early right? So maybe he'd creep off while she was still sleeping and then Caroline could ignore the fact that this this whole thing ever happened. She'd go back to sniping at him (because he was clearly out to get her, and her willpower, with all the gourmet chocolate he left in plain sight!), he'd go back to antagonizing her. Boom, status quo achieved, weirdness removed.
She'd thought it was a brilliant idea. But, of course, Klaus lived to ruin her tidy, orderly, well thought out, plans.
"You know, the polite thing to do would be to move your hand, love. If you're not going to help a bloke take care of the problem, that is," the rough sleepy drawl from Klaus was mostly amused, but Caroline had been pretty sure there'd been a little note of hope, too.
Which, come on. It was going to take way more than one night of surprising sensitivity to make Caroline willing to do non-roommate things with Klaus. No matter how delicious he looked, sleep mused and languidly stretching, or how good he felt pressed against her.
So Caroline had recoiled, both from Klaus and from her own twinge of interest, and shoved him away. Sitting up, bringing her hands up to cover her chest (since sometimes her boobs made a run for it in her sleep), she'd snarled, "In your dreams, Klaus."
And of course, he shamelessly watched her straighten her top. Caroline made a mental note to wear a bra, should she ever be forced into this situation again.
"Mmm. I do believe I confessed something to that effect," Klaus murmured, his eyes drifting lazily up to her face.
Would it kill him to be at least a little embarrassed about it? God, she'd rather have three consecutive root canals than give Klaus the satisfaction of confessing to the hot, sweaty sex dreams she had about him semi-frequently.
It was the proximity, and his aversion to being decently covered. That was all.
Caroline threw him a dirty look, intending to storm out (and hide the coffee, because petty revenge felt freaking great, sometimes) but Klaus sat up and grabbed her hand, halting her progress. "What?" she snapped.
He gave her a smile, almost sweet, that showed his dimples to their best advantage (seriously, did he practice that in the mirror?). "Good morning, Caroline. Sleep well? May I say that you look stunning in this light?"
Caroline rolled her eyes, but he did not release her hand. Did, in fact, twine his fingers with hers. Caroline glared, annoyed, but Klaus continued watching her, seemingly waiting for a response. She took a breath, pasted a smile on and chirped, "Good morning, Klaus. I'm pretty sure I look terrible, but way to try to get into my pants via empty flattery. Thanks again, for being cool last night." Caroline made herself drop the slight hostility on the last part, because she hadn't been born in a barn.
"You're welcome, Caroline. And I meant it. My door's open, if you're ever in need of comforting."
She eyed him suspiciously, but found no trace of innuendo, not an eyebrow wiggle or a smirk. Finally she nodded, once, and Klaus released her hand.
He threw of the covers, and got out of bed, leaving her sitting on it, still a little discomfited by his behaviour. He grabbed his towel and turned to her, and this time there was a little smirk, curling his lips, "And you're beautiful Caroline, I'd never say it if I didn't mean it."
He sauntered out of the room, leaving her gaping after him, and Caroline heard the shower start up moments later.
Ugh. He knew she liked to have the last word!
And then things got weirder. In Caroline's head, if not in reality. That first morning she'd totally expected Klaus to have a marathon shower and leave her to shiver through an icy one. But he'd been quick, had nodded amiably, saying, "It's all yours, love," when he'd passed her in the hallway, towel knotted loosely, tauntingly, at his waist.
That towel had totally dominated her shower thoughts. And what Klaus would have done if she'd shoved him against the wall, and traced the beads of water that dripped down his chest, with her tongue.
And then, for the next couple weeks, it seemed like Klaus was kind of making an effort? It wasn't overnight or anything, but he became more tolerable. He was tidier, he didn't pick fights, he seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was having a shitty day, and brought home her favorite things (and how did he know all of them?!) for dinner.
Sometimes Caroline heard The Twilight Zone theme music in her head.
And then they started having actual conversations. About him, and about her, about things they agreed on, and the (way more numerous) things they disagreed on. He still laughed at her, sometimes, but he laughed at her jokes too. And Caroline found herself more and more captivated by the way his hands moved when he told stories, the little crinkle around his eyes when he was trying not to smile too widely and the sound of his voice when he was particularly passionate about a subject.
And yeah, her dirty thoughts and fantasies increased exponentially, and sometimes she couldn't meet his eyes first thing in the morning, with all of them still whirling through her head.
Stupid hormones.
And then another storm warning came, and Klaus mentioned that his door would be open, casual as can be.
And when Caroline had tiptoed into his room, he'd lifted the blanket, and invited her under them. Klaus had opened his arms, she'd practically dove into him, and he'd made shushing noises and rubbed her back through the worst of the thunder and lightning, until she'd been able to fall asleep.
And this time, when Caroline had woken up, it had been Klaus' hands that had done the wandering, one possessively cupping her breast. Drowsy and aroused, she'd arched into the touch, the scrape of his thumb against her nipple sending hot little stabs of need through her. She'd moaned his name and Klaus had frozen, stammered an apology, and rolled away from her.
And maybe seeing the usually unflappable Klaus Mikaelson, pink cheeked and chagrined, after feeling her up in his sleep, was kind of satisfying. But she really hadn't wanted him to stop. Caroline had wanted him to peel her top off, and use his mouth. But Klaus was gone, before she could tell him that, leaving her alone, and turned on, in his bed.
Maybe she should just stay? And strip. Caroline's pretty sure there'd be no mistaking that hint.
But before she can decide to do so, she hears a strange, panicked noise, coming from the bathroom. Almost a shriek.
Caroline got out of bed, concerned, and walked down the hallway. Klaus was quiet, so she relaxed, but then she heard thumps. It sounded like things hitting the wall, and the tub.
She knocked gently on the door, "Klaus? Are you okay?"
"Fine," he calls back, but he stutters it. "I'm fine, Caroline!"
"You don't sound fine. Can I come in?"
Her hand was already on the doorknob, and she barely waited for his hesitant permission. Inside the small room, Klaus was nearly pressed against the wall opposite the tub, a hand holding his towel up, his face set to revulsion, as he stared hard at something in the shower.
Caroline took a second to ogle the strip of bare hip and thigh Klaus was revealing, the towel hanging open under his fist, before she tore her eyes away, and followed his gaze.
To the large centipede, that's clinging to the tiles.
Caroline's wasn't proud of it, but her first instinct might have been to laugh. She'd sort of thought that Klaus had been joking, about his phobia, trying to make her feel better. But the rigid lines of him, the harsh way he swallowed as his eyes tracked the bug, told her that he definitely wasn't just being nice. He was sincerely freaked out. And he hadn't laughed at her, so no way would she be an asshole, and let that first instinct win.
"Okay," Caroline said quietly, trying to sound soothing. "It's okay," she grabbed a hunk of toilet paper, making an effort to move slowly, and continued narrating, "A deal's a deal, right? So I'll just squish this guy," Klaus flinched at the sound, "and then we'll flush him." Klaus relaxed marginally, once that was done, and Caroline grabbed the Lysol wipes from underneath the sink, taking two and scrubbing away any evidence that the centipede had even existed.
She washed her hands, watching Klaus in the mirror behind her. He looked embarrassed again, but to a far greater degree, avoiding her eyes when they tried to catch his.
Caroline stepped toward him, once she'd finished, and he'd let out a rueful laugh, running a still shaky hand through his hair, "What you must think of me, sweetheart," he'd muttered.
"Hey, no," Caroline protested, grabbing his hand, before he could drop it to his side. She'd pulled him gently towards her, so she could wrap her arms around him, "Someone once told me that fears aren't rational."
Klaus returned the hug, tentatively, one hand still clutching the towel that covered him, "Well, that was before that someone groped you in your sleep, so I thank you for still indulging my silly fear."
Caroline pulled back so she could look at him, "I was going to tell you, before you bolted, that I didn't mind."
Klaus' eyebrows rose, in shock and intrigue, and Caroline dragged her hands down, to play with the edge of his towel,
"The groping?" Klaus asked, and released his hold on the towel when she gave it a tug, letting it drop to the floor.
"The groping," Caroline confirmed, pulling back enough to strip her tank off. Klaus' hands were on her, then. Spanning her hips and sliding up her ribcage to cup her breasts. Caroline's head dropped back with a sigh as he toyed with her nipples.
She kept her eyes open, watching his face, the way he licked his lips and seemed fascinated by the sight of his hands on her. The clench of his jaw when her fingers danced over the trail of hair that led down, the flutter of his lashes when she wrapped her hand around his cock.
Klaus moaned her name as she stroked up the length of him, to thumbs the head, his hips jolting into her hand. He stepped into her, pushing her backwards, his hands frantically shoving her sleep shorts and panties down. Caroline bumped into the counter, and he'd lifted her onto it, ducking his head and littering kisses down her throat.
Her hand on his cock moves faster in response, but Klaus brushes it away, pants out a, "Not yet."
Klaus pushed her knees apart, stepping between them. Caroline's head hit the mirror when she leaned back, when he'd finally sucked her nipple into his mouth, his tongue lashing at the peak. Her hands had scrabbled at his shoulders, clutching at him, trying to get him closer.
Caroline let out a breathless laugh, as he went lower, nipping along her ribcage, realizing that Klaus hadn't even kissed her yet.
He pulled back, looked at her with a question in his eyes, but her grip on him didn't allow him to go far, "This isn't how I pictured this happening," she tells him.
Klaus' hand paused, high on her thigh, and Caroline's hips rocked forward in protest, "Do you want to stop?" he asked, voice gravely, expression apprehensive.
Caroline shook her head instantly, grabbed his wrist and led his hand higher, letting out a whimper when his fingers grazed her, "No, I don't want to stop, I don't want to slow down. I want you to kiss me, and touch me."
Klaus eyes were dark, and he'd been breathing raggedly, he'd stroked her folds, parting them, before lowering his mouth to hers, swallowing the whine she made when he'd slipped two fingers inside of her, his thumb finding her clit.
"I've pictured this," Klaus had murmured, looking down at his hand touching her, at her hips rolling to meet his motions. "Pictured you, like this, on the counter. And in the shower. Spread out in my bed, begging for my tongue. In yours, too. Slow and lazy, you're legs wrapped around me. Followed by fast and wild, your nails scoring my back. You, riding me on the couch. Me, bending you over the kitchen island. I've thought of it all. I want it all."
Caroline moaned at his words, at the images that he'd put into her head.
Then his mouth was on her nipple again, she'd jerked at the hint of teeth, writhed as his thumb rolled over her clit with the perfect amount of pressure.
"Can I have it, Caroline?" he'd murmured, looking up at her. "Can I have you?"
She'd nodded, taking great gulps of air, her climax so close she'd been trembling, because she wanted everything he could give her. All of his dirty thoughts, and all of hers, too.
"Good," it came out low, and guttural, and Klaus had dropped to his knees, holding her thighs apart as he's licked her. Her hands clenched the countertop, needing something to hold on to as his name, and curses, and pleas, spilled from her lips as he took her apart with just a few swipes of his tongue.
She'd shivered through an orgasm, collapsed in a sweaty, panting mess, against the mirror. Couldn't even begrudge Klaus the smug way he'd surveyed her, as his hands had kneaded her thighs.
Caroline sat up as her heartrate slowed, noted the way his eyes had turned wary, like he half expected her to say thanks, and walk away. But Caroline had been far from done with him. She'd let her eyes track down his body, bit her lip teasingly, gaze lingering on where his cock was hard and beyond ready. "What's next?" she'd asked playfully. "Shower's convenient, but I'm thinking we save that for when we're dirtier."
Klaus let out a groan, closing his eyes briefly. Caroline eased off the counter, rocked up to suck on his lower lip, pressed her bare chest against his. She'd sighed in approval when he's sunk his hand into her hair, angles her head to take the kiss deeper, hotter. "Bed," he'd nearly growled, running his hand down her back, when she'd pulled away to breathe. "Mine first," he'd said decisively, "then the kitchen."
Caroline had grinned up at him, "Good plan. Your bed's bigger," before she'd strolled out of the bathroom, confident that Klaus wouldn't be far behind.