Notes: A random drabble I churned out last week when I was stuck on other projects. Had a lot of fun with this world, totally reminded myself of how much I LOVED DA!

Busy Running

(A Dark Angel inspired AU that popped into my head after I was playing with one of those random prompt generators. If you've never watched the show: the main character was genetically engineered and had enhanced abilities because she had animal DNA as well as human. Smut).

She really shouldn't be doing this.

Caroline's supposed to be cutting back, to one heist a month, and she'd already lifted a painting from a snotty divorcee she'd had the bad luck to deliver a package to last week. But work had taken her to the museum that afternoon and there was this one necklace – emeralds on the most delicate platinum filigree - that she just had to have.

Maybe there was a little bird DNA somewhere in her cocktail.

She'd circled it, unable to help herself, like a hunter stalking her prey. Had barely registered the other people in the room, only ascertained that there was not a threat amongst the afternoon crowd of tour guides, high school students and senior citizens. She'd only had eyes for the sparkly jewels in the glass cases.

And now, ten hours later, here she was.

The building's security is good, but nothing Caroline hasn't cracked before. The pressure triggered floor easy enough to bypass – one leap and she'd caught a thankfully sturdy light fixture, and had made her way easily across the room without ever touching the ground.

It's not until she's hanging over the display, that her plan hits a snag.

Because the necklace is gone.

The case is undisturbed, but empty, save for a rectangle of gleaming black paper. Etched with a small gold wolf. It's a symbol that she recognizes.

Oh, Caroline's going to kill him.

She scales the side of his building – of course he lives in the penthouse. Breaks the door off the balcony with a flick of her wrist, despite the fact that he'd left it unlocked. Let's herself in, without even attempting stealth.

He doesn't even look surprised to see her, the infuriating dick. Has the nerve to tip his glass in her direction, casual as can be, "Drink? It's quite good," he offers mildly, "I stole it from the mayor."

Caroline scoffs, and stalks over to him, taking the glass from his hand and tossing the liquid back, forcing herself not to cough at the burn, "Are you following me, you creep?"

He doesn't bother to deny it, "You left my bed so hastily, sweetheart. And I found myself intrigued. I've never met a human who could do that."

She doesn't blush, even when his eyes rake down her body, even when his tongue (that she has very fond memories of) sweeps out across his lower lip. "When a girl doesn't leave a note, it means she's not interested in a second round," she tells him flatly, even though it's kind of a lie.

Something about him, something about the way he'd smelled, had hit her hard. They'd been dancing at a fundraiser – a hoity toity shindig she'd been doing reconnaissance at. She hadn't known it at the time, but he'd been doing much the same. They'd moved together so smoothly, and the first thing she'd been aware of was the heat of him, the way his heart beat just a smidge too slowly. And then she'd inhaled, and her pulse had picked up, her senses reeling. She'd grown slick and aroused at an alarming rate. Like a heat cycle, even though she'd been weeks away from that particular awkwardness.

And somehow he'd known.

His hands had clutched her more tightly, his body pressed more firmly into hers. His nose had run along her neck, a low pleased rumble coming from deep in his chest. She'd bitten back a moan, feeling it vibrate through her, and caught his eyes. She'd come to a complete stop, in the middle of the ballroom at the flash of gold in them.

Because he obviously wasn't human. But he wasn't like her either. Which could be very, very dangerous.

She'd wrenched herself out of his arms, mumbled an excuse, and hurried for an exit. Ditched her heels, and hiked up her dress, fully prepared to do whatever it took, to get away from him, even if it was a risk.

But he'd been so very fast. Had managed to get ahead of her, and had caught her elbow, and tugged her into a small gap between two buildings. He'd backed her against a wall and clutched her face, murmured, "What are you?" in a silky tone that dripped intrigue, his eyes burning into hers.

Caroline hadn't been able to help herself. Painfully turned on, with the lean heat of him pressed against her, her instincts screaming at her to take. So she'd fisted a hand in his dark blonde curls and yanked his mouth to hers.

Things had been a blur after that. Of kisses and frantic hands. Needy gasps and desperate writhing. He'd ripped the skirt of her dress almost to her waist, had her legs wrapped around his hips and his cock inside of her before she could beg for it. She'd been too far gone to mind her strength, and the vice of her thighs should have crushed him.

But it didn't. Only made him groan raggedly and thrust harder.

And it had been so freaking good. The best orgasm she'd ever had, and she'd barely come down before his hand had slipped between them, his fingers ghosting over her hypersensitive clit. Caroline hadn't been able to say no when he'd breathed, "Come home with me," against her lips.

She'd slipped out early the next morning, on silent feet while, he'd slept peacefully on the fancy sheets they'd ruined.

He ignores her sarcastic barb, his gaze knowing, "But then you're not quite human, are you, love?"

There's no point in denying it. He'd not tried to hide from her, worn gold eyes and black veins proudly when he'd moved inside of her. She's still not sure what he is, had forced her curiosity aside. Because asking questions invited questions, and she wasn't willing to provide any answers. Not when there was a price on her head.

"Takes one to know one," she shoots back petulantly.

He laughs, soft and amused, but his focus remains on her face. "My name is Klaus Mikaelson. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

"I didn't ask, did I?" Caroline shoots back. She wracks her brains, but the name rings no bells. And what kind of thief wants to be famous, anyway? She says as much, and he makes another sound of mirth, "It's more of a hobby then a profession, sweetheart. Something to keep me busy."

"Must be nice," Caroline snaps. "But some of us have bills to pay. So give me my necklace, and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast. You're a bit of a puzzle, to me. I've never come across anything quite like you, and I've come across my fair share of oddities."

Caroline raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her, "Oddity? That's some sweet talk. Bet it gets you all the ladies."

"I do just fine," Klaus retorts, "as you well know."

He stands then, and Caroline's once again surprised by how he moves. Quick and graceful. Lethal. It should scare her, but it doesn't, only makes her blood hum when she remembers what it had been like to move with him.

He takes a deep breath, and his teeth gleam when he smiles. And then she's flat on her back, pressed between the solid weight of him, and the cushions of the couch. He reaches up, and pulls her ponytail out, spreading her hair out, "Better," he says, almost to himself. His thumb traces her jaw, and down her throat, stopping at the high neck of her jacket and toying with the zipper. She swallows, mouth dry, resisting the urge to touch him, to mold his body to hers, to rub the ache between her thighs away on the solid bulge behind his zipper.

He makes another one of those noises, deep and throaty, and her eyes flutter closed as she bites her lip. "Look at me," he coaxes, just as his fingers begin to tug, the zipper's teeth parting oh so slowly. "I don't mean oddity as an insult, sweetheart. You're special, fascinating. I knew it the second I saw you, and I want to know more. I want to know everything."

His head dips, and he kisses the skin of her throat that he'd bared, lips dragging down her sternum. Caroline sucks in a breath, and wills her voice steady, even as he makes it difficult by tugging the fabric of her bra aside to bare a breast, "I'm not great at sharing," she manages to say, biting her lip to hold back another gasp.

He licks, and sucks her sensitive skin, the faint hint of teeth on her nipple making her jolt, before he answers, looking up at her with such heat, "I can be very convincing."

She remembers. And while she's bad at sharing, she's a smart girl. She knows it's supposed to be a give and take kind of thing. She'll be damned if she's the only one giving.

Caroline wraps a leg around him and rolls, bringing them both to the floor. She sits up, pushes when he makes to follow, shooting him a stern look. He subsides, but he's tense, jaw clenched tight. She runs her hand down his chest, slides a hand underneath his shirt to palm the lean muscles of his abdomen.

"Sharing is caring, Klaus. You first. What are you?"

"Complicated," he drawls. She uses her nails, not quite hard enough to draw blood, and his head drops back with a hiss. Caroline files that away for later use.

"Funny, me too. Looks like we're never going to get anywhere," she lifts herself off of him, but he grabs her wrist.

"I was born a werewolf. Made a vampire."

Caroline's first instinct is to laugh, because that's the stuff of fairy tales. But he seems perfectly serious. "A werewolf. And a vampire," she repeats slowly.

"That's right," he says, pulling her back down so she's straddling him once again. "And you seem skeptical, so I'm guessing that you weren't aware that such things existed?"

She shakes her head, trying not to get distracted by his hands on her, the rough palms gliding up her sides. "I'm not entirely convinced you're not screwing with me."

Klaus looks contemplative, calculating, "I assure you that I am not. But I am left wondering what exactly you are."

"I'm not going to tell you. It's not safe."

"I can take care of myself."

Caroline rolls her eyes, "For me, you idiot. And for others. We have to stay hidden."

His expression grows hard, eyes stormy, "From who?" he grits out.

"I can't tell you that, either."

He lets out a harsh breath, but his shoulders remain tense underneath her hands. When he speaks again it's in measured tones, "If someone is hunting you, love. I'm not a bad ally to have."

"I don't even know you. Why would I trust you?"

Klaus relaxes slightly, and nods once, "I suppose you've a point. And I did say something about convincing you, did I not?"

He's up and she's slung over his shoulder before she can formulate a reply. He moves quickly, and if she was only human the hallway to his bedroom would have been nothing but a blur, and then he's depositing her on his bed. He follows her down, hands pressed to the mattress on either side of her head, "Tell me your name. Just your name."

She hesitates, thinks about lying. But something tells her he'll know, if she attempts it. "Caroline," she tells him finally.

"Pretty," he comments, with a grin.

"Thank you," she replies sincerely. She had picked it herself, after all.

He pushes up, so he's kneeling above her, eyes dark as he surveys her splayed out in his bed. He brings his hands her hips, "Take off your jacket, Caroline. The bra too."

"Why?" she asks, just to be stubborn.

He flashes a smirk that makes her breath hitch with the filthy promise of it, "Positive reinforcement," he tells her, flicking open the button of her jeans.

She arches up and strips the garments away, lifting her hips at his silent demand so he can do away with the rest of her clothes.

"So pretty," he murmurs. "I've wanted you back in my bed since the second you left it, love." Klaus lifts her leg, presses a kiss to her kneecap, lifts the other and does the same. "Grab the headboard," he tells her, a touch of gravel in his voice.

Caroline shudders, and lifts her hands, wrapping her hands around the metal bars that make up the frame, "I might bend it."

"I hope you do."

His head drops, lips dragging over her slit. His hands on her thighs hold her still, when she tries to lift up for more. He's slow about it, savoring licks that stop just before where she needs his tongue, until she's straining against his hold, trying to shift to get just a little hint of pressure on her clit. She makes a strangled noise when he pulls back, that turns into a moan as he shifts up, his body covering hers. She can taste herself on his tongue when he kisses her hungrily, rubs her body against his, the roughness of his clothes on her skin making her shiver.

"Klaus," she grates out, wrapping her legs around his hips. He rocks against her obligingly, and she lets out a gasp at the sparks it sends shooting through her, "I'm not feeling super positive right now."

She feels his smile against her skin, and then he's off of her, stripping out of his clothes, seams ripping as he goes.

And she can totally get onboard with this whole vampire thing, because he's back on top of her, his cock nudging at her entrance, in the scantest of moments. She releases her death grip on the headboard as he slides inside of her. He's being soft with her, almost gentle, and she needs more.

But he's got her hands pinned before she can grab him and flip them over, fingers encircling her wrist. And as much fun as his strength is, she thinks it might get annoying. He chuckles, brushes his lips over hers. "Don't pout, love. I promise to let you take a turn. As many as you'd like." He pulls back, his free hand dropping to tilt her hips, "But for now, trust me."

And then he's driving back inside of her, the angle he's found forces a curse from her lips, as all of her nerves light up in pleasure. The whimper she lets out is almost embarrassing but then he does it again, and again, and Caroline can't bring herself to care. His hand slips between them, and the extra stimulation on her clit leaves her legs shaky, and she spirals into a mind blowing orgasm, calling his name and digging her nails into the back of his hand, with a few more hard thrusts.

He trembles through his own release, muffling a cry in the skin of her throat. He slides off of her but pulls her into his side, and Caroline goes willingly, catching her breath as she listens to his heart. His fingertips glide up and down her back, "Can you tell me something else, Caroline?" he asks idly, as their bodies cool.

She's silent, for a long time. And in the end it's the fact that he hadn't demanded, though she suspects he's dying to, that gets her to drop another tidbit. "My name wasn't always Caroline," she tells him finally.

"I am a thousand years old," he replies casually.

Caroline's head shoots up to look at him, only to find him waiting, and amused smirk on his lips, "How… you're… so old…"

Klaus lets her stutter for a moment, "Yes, I know. I am remarkably well-preserved. That's a perk of vampirism. There are many, that I'd be happy to tell you about."

There's something in his tone, something coaxing. But his hand has drifted low, tracing the dip where her spine curves into her ass, and it's pretty distracting, too distracting. She's not in the mood for a lesson about creatures that shouldn't exist, not with all of his bare skin so conveniently spread out for her to touch and taste. "Later," she says firmly, the hand that's been spread out on his stomach drifting lower. "I'm gonna need some more reinforcement."