Notes: This prompt was probably supposed to be a human AU but it veered vampire/hybrid. Enjoy!
Come and Stay
(Prompt from wearthesamecaroline: Klaroline + Hot Yoga. Title from 'Dirty Mouth' by Hot Hot Heat. Smut.)
As much as Caroline's changed, since becoming a vampire, some things just don't. She likes plans. Lists. Schedules. Always has, always will.
So she's aggravated, when she walks into the yoga studio, and looks around for an open piece of floor. Caroline had picked Honolulu on a whim, thinking island life, bright sun and pretty beaches, would be a nice change, from her last four years in Berlin.
She hadn't been expecting the traffic.
Rush hour congestion seriously made her want to kill people, especially when it made her late.
Caroline likes to get a spot up front, mostly to ogle the instructor. Oliver's Australian, all golden skin and bright green eyes. And he has the best abs she's ever seen, in her ninety plus years. She kind of wants to turn him into a vampire, just to immortalize them, they're that good.
Unfortunately, he's a little too into the whole yoga thing. She'd talked to him, a time or two in the interest of possibly getting her hands, and her tongue, on said abs. Caroline rarely had sex with humans anymore – it was kind of boring, and sometimes a girl just forgot to mind her strength, and that got messy. But she'd considered making an exception, for Oliver Ten-Pack. Plus vampires were kind of thin on the ground in Hawaii, and she'd not had decent sex since moving here, which was not healthy or good for her control. But each time she'd struck up a conversation with Oliver she'd had to clench her teeth together to hold in a yawn. He was all chakras and third eyes and inner chi. Things Caroline neither believed in, nor had any interest in speaking of.
She'd taken up yoga almost a decade ago, in the interest of trying new things. And it had stuck. Caroline enjoyed the fact that she was great at it (thank you supernatural speed and agility!), and liked the single minded focus it required. And, as a bonus, classes were often populated by clean living hippie types, and Caroline had found that their blood tended to be delicious.
She's been bouncing around a few studios, in the weeks since she's moved to Honolulu, and Oliver's is her favorite, despite it being a little out of her way. That's not a deal breaker, because she makes her own schedule, at the moment. Her current occupation, after her last degree in English Lit, is freelance editing. Caroline had used a little compulsion, to push past the lower rungs, skipped the grunt work, and now got her pick of assignments. It's not her favorite job ever, but it has its perks.
She'd been engrossed in the book she was working on that afternoon (a very dirty tale about a vampire, and the sweet, innocent kindergarten teacher who was hot for his exotic accent and dangerous aura, which was endlessly amusing to Caroline) and had left her house later then she'd wanted to. This had led to a tense drive, and Caroline cursing her fellow drivers the whole way to the studio.
But she'd made it, just in time, and was looking forward to some much needed Zen.
Caroline hurriedly unrolls her mat, in the middle of the back row, just as Oliver calls the class' attention. She whips off her sundress, tossing it behind her, and takes a deep breath, letting the already muggy air of the studio fill her lungs.
It's easy enough to fall into practice – she has been doing this for a while – and once she's holding positions, her skin slickening from the room's heat, her eyes start to wander. There's a woman two people down giving Caroline the evil eye (she assumes it's because her warrior III is a shaky mess, and Caroline's is rock solid). Caroline shoots her a sunny smile, before easily shifting into a forward bend.
Little Miss Competitive is quickly forgotten when Caroline's attention is caught, by the guy in front of her, and his truly exceptional ass.
Maybe she should hang out in the back of the class more often.
She keeps his eyes on him, on the way the lean muscles of his back flex and bunch as he rolls up to a standing position, the drop of sweat that slides down his spine, until it's stopped by the low slung waistband of his thin black pants.
Letting her eyes rake back up, she takes note of the leather cords around his neck, the damp curls. And then she sees the tattoo, on his shoulder. A very familiar tattoo. A tattoo she'd traced with curious fingertips, while the owner of it had lain lax and lazy, between rounds, on the forest floor in Mystic Falls.
Years later she'd done it with her lips, in a shower in New Orleans, while his arms had been braced on the wall in front of them, and her hands were wrapped around his cock.
Later still, in a bed, in a ritzy hotel in Bangkok, while she'd straddled his lower back, and asked him what it meant.
And okay fine, at least a half a dozen other times, in the last sixty years.
As if he'd sensed her stare, and maybe he had, Klaus turns slightly, catching her eyes. She narrows hers, trying to convey just how unimpressed she is to find him here, in her yoga studio, unannounced and uninvited.
She's not an idiot, and she knows that their casual run in's over the years have been orchestrated. But they've always been in places where she was just passing through, never somewhere she's put down roots, no matter how temporary such things were when you'd always look seventeen.
Caroline likes routine, and he's messing with it.
Klaus merely grins and nods, gleaming white teeth and dimples, no hint of the predator, and clearly not the least bit perturbed by her ire.
But then getting her angry had occasionally worked out well for Klaus (and for her, if Caroline was entirely honest) in the past.
She hadn't noticed Oliver coming up beside her, so engrossed was she in her staring contest with Klaus, so she startles, when he touches her, correcting her posture with a hand on her ribcage, his fingers feeling cool against her overheated skin. She barely hears what he murmurs to her, something about grounding her heel, too busy cataloging Klaus' reaction, the tightening of his jaw, the way he glares at the hand on her body.
It's just a flash, a tinge of gold in his eyes, and if you didn't know to look for it you'd probably miss it. But Caroline's sharp eyes catch every shifting emotion, and she's hurtled back into memories, of all the time's he's lost control, and let his monster's face out.
How much she'd liked to be the one making him do it, the power she'd felt, having him underneath her, how incredible he could make her feel with his hands and his mouth and his cock.
God, it really has been too long.
He smiles again, his gaze meandering down her torso. Her nipples have tightened into taut points, with the rush of dirty thoughts, and she knows they must be noticeable, behind the Lycra top she wears.
Oliver wanders away, and her eyes stay locked with Klaus'. His expression has heated, the smile's turned wicked, and she realizes her thoughts must have been obscenely obvious. Her body clenches involuntarily, when he runs the point of his tongue over that unfairly full lower lip.
Yeah, there's no way she's finishing this class.
Making a snap decision Caroline gathers up her things, and leaves quickly. Yet another thing that being in the back makes easier. Caroline doesn't look back, but she knows that Klaus is following her.
She doesn't bother to throw on her dress, stalks through the lobby without a glance at anyone in it, and exits. Caroline leans against her car, waits for Klaus to emerge. Tries not to ogle his chest, when he steps outside and makes his way towards her. Would it have killed him to put on a shirt? There could be children around.
This, Caroline reminded herself, was totally why she couldn't press him against the car and shove her hand down his pants.
Caroline bites down on the inside of her lip, so hard she tastes blood, and pushes that thought away. She forces her expression into cool lines, crosses her arms and stares him down. "Yoga, Klaus? Really?"
"I am working on my rage," he tells her serenely, clasping his hands behind his back, a hint of a mocking smirk playing over his lips.
Caroline lets out a snort, at the thought of him even trying, "Bullshit. Try again. What are you doing here?"
"I live here."
"You do not," Caroline counters immediately.
He lifts a brow, "I've owned a house here for ages, love. I'm quite certain I told you when I bought it."
She freezes, a brief conversation they'd had filtering back to her. She'd been a little tipsy, and it had been decades ago, but she remembers falling asleep to him talking about the colors of the sunset.
It had been her fortieth birthday, and she'd called to thank him for the gift he'd sent.
"And you decided to move into it? Now?" she presses skeptically.
"'Now' is a relative term, isn't it? I've been in residence since last year, I'll have you know."
Caroline studies him, while she weighs his words. He's an excellent liar, she knows, but he's long since stopped bothering with subterfuge or equivocations, with her. "So you expect me to buy that you being here is a coincidence?"
"Of course not, sweetheart. You're far too smart for that. I'd heard you'd moved into the neighborhood…"
"From your creepy spies," Caroline mutters.
Klaus ignores her, continuing his sentence, "…and decided that this city's much too populous to wait around for our paths to cross. Not when we have such fun, once they do."
He's drifted closer, while he'd spoken, only the barest of inches separating his bare torso from hers. And then he reaches out, glides his index finger down the length of her belly, from just under her sports bra, to the waist of her shorts.
Caroline sucks in a breath at the touch, her muscles tightening, body swaying forward. She grits her teeth and stops herself. Because they were outside, in public. In broad daylight. And she had no desire to deal with misdemeanor indecency charges, despite the fact that they'd be easy enough to shed, once she burned through her current identity.
She swallows, presses her back against the car, the sun warmed metal a distracting burn. Caroline lifts her chin and asks, "Should I assume you know where I live?"
"Inviting me over already, love?"
Caroline scoffs, and unlocks her car, relishing the press of his body against hers when she steps forward to open the door, "If you're going to be a dick, Klaus, it'll be a one-time offer. Otherwise I'll see you there." She places a palm on his chest, pushes him away slightly, before climbing in.
She doesn't look back, as she peels out of the lot, keeps her eyes forward, on the winding roads home. She knows he'll follow, knows he can't resist a gauntlet thrown.
It's exactly why she'd done it.
Caroline bypasses her front door, ducking around the side of the house, and through the fence to her backyard.
A swim sounds just about perfect right now, with her skin sticky, her hair damp with sweat, from the hot yoga class.
The pool was half the reason she'd bought the house. The privacy of the backyard the other half. Both things she's planning on taking advantage of tonight. She shakes out her hair, strips out of her workout clothes. She hears tires on the gravel drive, just before she dives in. She surfaces, and finds Klaus standing on the edge of the pool. "Are you coming in, or what?" she taunts, treading water.
"I'm deciding," he murmurs, head tipping to the side.
"Uh, I'm kind of naked here," Caroline points out. "What exactly is the dilemma?"
"What happens after, love? I'd be delighted to leave you exhausted, boneless, sated. But that will pass, you being a vampire, and a rather stubborn individual. Will you run? Pick up and leave? You've been scared of anything more than a transient fling for decades. And I understand, meant it when I said I'd wait."
She bristles slightly, at the word 'scared.' She'd never liked to admit to her fears, had always preferred to plow through her doubts, thinking optimism, and the force of her will, would see her through. "What, and now you're tired of waiting?" Caroline snaps, sinking lower in the pool, trying to hide, in case she'd just thoroughly humiliated herself.
Klaus laughs, warm and genuinely amused, "Not at all. You're still so very young, Caroline, and you grow more fascinating, by the decade. But I wonder if it isn't the time to try a little persuasion, to show you what you could be, what you could have, with me."
Caroline rolls her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, orgasms a plenty. I kind of figured that out already, Klaus."
"Not precisely what I'd meant, but I do appreciate the compliment to my prowess. We'll start there, if you'd like."
The ache between her thighs, the prickling of her skin, tells Caroline that she very much would like. But it wouldn't be them, if she didn't push back. "Start there? What happens after?" she questions.
"You don't run," he tells her simply. "You let me convince you that you want to stay. You understand that I intend to be very convincing."
She's tempted, by the promise in his eyes, the low, coaxing tones of his voice. By her lingering dissatisfaction with her mostly solitary life, the boredom that drives her to try endless new hobbies. Klaus has been a constant, even if he's been a fleeting one and she's found herself lingering in his presence, something he'd likely noted, more and more. In the beginning she'd given him hours, then days. Four years ago they'd spent three weeks together. She'd blamed the weather, conveniently ignoring the fact that a little blizzard was nothing to either of them.
She'd always been the one to make excuses, and he'd always let her go, with knowing eyes and a softly spoken, annoyingly assured, "I'll see you later, Caroline," and a kiss on her cheek.
She'd totally been planning on making him wait a century.
But she'd already set foot on every continent, had careers, adventures, lovers. And what was a couple of decades, to a vampire?
Caroline lifts a shoulder, feigns casualness, even though she knows he can hear the nervous pounding of her heart, "I've only been here a few weeks. Haven't even begun to see the sights. It'd be a shame to leave so soon."
It seems to be what he'd wanted to hear.
Klaus is diving into the pool, before she's finished the sentence. He's fast, losing his pants and slipping under her, plastering himself to her back. He wraps an arm around her waist and spins them, and Caroline reaches out to catch herself on the side of the pool. Klaus winds his free hand in her wet hair, tugging gently until she tips her head to the side. She expects his lips, after the faint scrape of his stubble, but his fangs are a welcome shock, digging into her skin as his hand delves between her thighs. She cries out at the initial sting, moans as he drinks deep. His fingers find her clit, worrying the sensitive bundle of nerves. She moves, rocks against his hand, fast breaths coming from her parted lips.
Klaus withdraws, takes a long lick of her wound, humming in satisfaction. He lets go of her hair, and offers her his wrist, sinking two fingers inside of her. Caroline bites down without hesitation, the taste of his blood on her tongue the thing that pushes her over the edge.
He nuzzles her neck, as she relaxes into him, "I need you out of this pool, love," he rumbles, spinning her and boosting her out before Caroline can even think to reply. She lets out a noise, an embarrassing little squeal of shock, that turns into a whine, when he pulls her to the edge and pushes her thighs wide, his mouth diving between them. And then his tongue is inside of her, his thumb rolling over her clit, and Caroline's hips are arching up, her hands scrabbling uselessly at the concrete needing something to hold on to.
"Klaus," she moans, her head tipping back as he works her higher, fingers and tongue precise and devastating and perfect. Her legs are quivering, and she can't seem to catch her breath, the tension coiling inside of her. He pulls back and she wants to scream, until he speaks, hoarse and demanding, "Look at me, Caroline," he murmurs, lips wet with her arousal, fangs out and eyes yellow.
It sends another hot jolt of need through her, and she pushes up on her elbows. He holds her gaze as his head dips, and she watches him taste her, watches his lashes flutter in satisfaction, feels his moan against her skin.
He's merciless, hitting all the right spots, and it only takes a few more passes of his tongue, before she's shaking through an orgasm.
But she still wants more.
Caroline reaches down, threads her hands into his curls, uses her grip to tip his head back, "Get up here," she says. It's an order he's happy to obey, and he's out of the pool with a quick push of his arms. She sits up, before he can crawl over her, swinging a leg over his hips. She reaches between them, strokes him gently, then not so gently, until he hisses into her mouth, his hands clenched tightly on her hips. Caroline brushes her lips over his, slips her tongue into his mouth, a slow tease as she positions his cock at her entrance. When she opens her eyes she finds him watching her, his features drawn tight. He's so tense underneath her, muscles like stone. She grabs his wrists, tugs his hands from her hips, and places them over her breasts as she sinks down, taking him in one smooth slide. He sucks in a harsh breath, and Caroline moans, as his fingers begin tugging at her nipples, her body clamping down around him. She's had vague ideas about staying still, about taking this slow and torturing them both, but he feels too good, his fingers too skilled. She's quickly got her hands digging into his shoulders, and she's riding him in earnest, her hair slapping against her back.
She's almost there, skating along the edge, when Klaus moves, rolling them and pinning her to the ground, his hips holding hers immobile. She squirms, mindless, uncaring about the rough stone at her back. She lets out a whimper, nails digging into his back, her legs climbing up his hips, but still he doesn't give her the friction she's craving. "Klaus," she pleads, "more."
But he shakes his head, withdrawing painfully slowly, before easing back inside of her. "Are you convinced yet, love?" he asks, and Caroline locks her legs around him, attempting to keep him inside of her.
But he's stronger, and easily stills her hips, continuing the slow glide. She lets out a frustrated groan, tries a taunt, "I've only come twice, Klaus. Is that supposed to be convincing?"
Klaus makes a contemplative noise, grinding against her clit on his next down stroke in a way that leaves her shuddering, "I suppose you've a point, I believe our record is what, six, in a night?"
"Seven," Caroline corrects, voice rough. "That time in Sao Paulo."
His next thrust is unexpected, a harsh snap that leaves her breathless. He's not exactly steady, when he speaks either, thankfully. "Ah yes, however could I have forgotten that? I suppose it gives me something to strive for."
And then he picks up the pace, giving her what she needs, and it's not long until she comes again.
Klaus barely gives her time to recover, before he's scooping her up, and tumbling her on to one of the chaises, hooking her legs over the armrests.
He manages eight, that night. Nine the next, after he's taken her to dinner, and she's agreed to another.
In the end it's not even the sex that convinces her.