Notes: More smut from the trope prompts! I've added some to this from the Tumblr version to make things a little clearer. Enjoy! Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewing! I always enjoy hearing what you think.
More Than Meets The Eye
(Prompts: #6 Bookshop AU + #91 PWP + #56 Awful First Meeting. SMUT)
No matter how many centuries one lives, being torn from sleep is never pleasant. Caroline jerks upright at the first crash of shattering glass, flinging the sheet from her body. She hears screams, shouts, crashes and banging indicating that her shop, her merchandise, is being destroyed. She trades in books, grimoires, and the occasional magical trinket. All old, all irreplaceable and immensely valuable.
Caroline stalks towards the stairs, not bothering to dress.
The trespassers are unlikely to survive her temper even if they manage to avoid disturbing something painful or deadly. She sees no point in modesty.
Halfway down the stairs Caroline can see that the front window's been destroyed and several sets of shelves are now rubble. There's also a fair amount of blood decorating the walls.
"Freaking vampires," she grumbles, picking up the pace. She ducks when a body is tossed in her direction. It crashes into the wall behind her, tumbling down the rest of the steps. Caroline plants a hand on the banister and leaps the rest of the way down. "Hey!" she shouts. "Freeze!"
No one listens to her, of course. There's a half dozen vampires on her sales floor, all intent on attacking another man in the center of the room. He's holding his own, doesn't seem to even be struggling, a faint look of glee on his face as he breaks limbs and draws blood. Her eyes narrow when she recognizes the object in his hand, a heavy jeweled cup he'd using as a bludgeon. She'd paid a pretty penny for a few months ago, had a few buyers in mind. The investment's ruined now that the blood staining it has activated its magic and wasted it.
Now she's really annoyed. They'll be having words.
She plants her hands on her hips, reaching out to snag one of his attackers. He whirls on her with a snarl and Caroline almost rolls her eyes when he lunges. He chokes out a wet wheeze when her hand sinks into his chest, a garbled plea spilling from him just before she yanks. He crumples and the noise diminishes.
The vampires gape at her, though the one with the blade looks more impressed than surprised. She's going to assume he's older than the rest, aware that things deadlier than vampires exist out in the world.
Everyone is still, the vampire's attention divided between her and their intended victim, varying degrees of calculation and alarm and dread in their bright red eyes.
She drops the heart, wiggles her bloody fingers. "Boys," she chides, "you've made quite a mess. Didn't you read the sign? You break it, you bought it. And trust me, nothing in this room is cheap."
No one moves for a long moment. Caroline takes the opportunity to take a closer look at the intruders. They're all young-ish in appearance and their failure to even draw blood, despite their numerical advantage, suggests they're not all that old in vampire terms either.
Probably cannon fodder.
Which means their target might be a concern. She pivots slightly, raking him with assessing eyes. A distant part of her notes that he's very pretty. He meets her scrutiny with a smirk, inclining his head slightly. He's watching her just as avidly, taking her measure as she evaluates him.
It's been so long since Caroline's met someone who can challenge her. They'll have to dispatch the rest of the vampires before she can figure out just how much fun he could be.
She wipes her hand on her nightgown, frowning when the blood smears across the pink silk.
She crosses her arms, raising her brows expectantly, "Well? Have I been too subtle? Get out or get dead. Now."
She's suspected that there's a whole lot of geniuses in the room and she's proven right when another one attacks her. Caroline sidesteps him easily, landing a swift hard punch to his throat that sends him reeling. She uses her knee next, driving it into a spot that's even sensitive on vampires, snapping his neck as clutches his crotch and moans in pain.
The next few minutes are a blur of fangs and fists and not so flattering curses directed at her. She's barely winded by the time bodies litter the shop's wood floors though her nightgown is thoroughly ruined.
It's La Perla and she's definitely adding it to someone's bill.
And, considering there's only one person standing, it's gonna be his. He's straightening his clothing, pushing the sleeves of his t-shirt up his forearms, watching her with naked curiosity. He nudges an arm aside with the toe of his boot, "I'd heard you were a witch," he says. "But that's obviously untrue."
"Technically, I was a witch. Once upon a time."
His head tips the side, the disarming dimples she's trying not to notice popping out. "Interesting. And you've been here for nearly six months, correct?"
She forces herself not to fidget, drawing up to her full height. That he knows something of her, that he's been asking about her and she'd had no idea, is a bit alarming. She has her suspicions about who he is. His face is smooth, human now, but when he'd been fighting his eyes had been bright gold, not the red of the other vampires.
She's never encountered the Mikaelson's directly but she'd be a fool not to know of them. They're legendary, powerful, said to have a vast collection of their own magical books and knick knacks. What kind of business woman would she be is she hadn't tracked down all the info she could about such a lucrative potential client?
"Closer to eight, I think. The shop needed some serious renovations."
He turns slowly, taking the shelves and tables, "One would think witches would be reluctant to sell their heirlooms to someone not of their kind."
"I'm very persuasive," she says coolly. He's staying rooted to his spot, has leaned back against the counter, more curious than threatening.
His teeth gleam white when he smiles, "I don't doubt it. What are you now, love?"
"Kinda rude," she says. "Exchanging names seems more polite, don't you think?"
He makes a low noise, she hopes its amusement. "I'm Klaus."
She can't help the quick breath she sucks in when he boldly confirms her suspicions. She quickly locks down any other visible show of emotion, hides the apprehension building in her gut. "I'd figured."
His smile doesn't falter, nor does his attention. "Not just a pretty face, are you?"
He's flirting and she's not sure how to feel about it. He's certainly nice to look at, the lean lines of his body shown to perfect advantage in his well fitted clothes, with his full lips and strong jaw. "I go by Caroline," she offers.
"Pleasure," he murmurs. His eyes flick over her body, a more leisurely perusal than before. His appraisal is heated with something far beyond politeness and Caroline wonders if grabbing a robe might have been smart. She's feeling a little warm, a lot interested, and her nipples tighten against the silk that covers her. No way he can miss them. He straightens from his slouch, tossing the chalice aside carelessly and Caroline winces instinctively as it clunks when it hits the ground. He glances behind him before he eases forward a step, "It's a lovely piece," he says.
"Was," Caroline corrects. "Still pretty, but now useless."
"I thought it felt odd." He flexes his hand absently.
Uh oh. That might be a problem.
Klaus prowls forward a step, something hungry in his expression, and Caroline would bet that it's not blood he's craving.
"Please tell me you weren't bleeding when you picked up that chalice."
He shrugs, unconcerned, easing into her space. The rough denim of his jeans brushes her bare legs and he rests a hand on her waist. "I don't think so."
It's absent, soft, like he's not paying attention to what he's saying. Caroline needs him to snap out of whatever daze he's in. She slips from his grasp, walking towards the counter. "Are you sure? It's used in a pretty serious, super permanent, bonding ritual and I really don't think I want to be stuck with you forever."
This time when he laughs it's pure amusement, loud and unrestrained. She likes the sound, has to press her lips together to prevent herself from smiling. "Now who's being rude?"
"You've got a reputation for being unpleasant," Caroline informs him. She wonders if she should be choosing her words more carefully but quickly dismisses the idea. If he'd wanted to kill her he would have tried to do so in the heat of the earlier battle.
"I can't claim I haven't earned it," he says, no trace of remorse to him.
Caroline supposes she has to respect the honesty. "Hit the lights, will you? Back wall."
She's a little surprised at how easily he does what she's asked, would bet anyone requesting such menial tasks from him is a novelty. She picks up the chalice as soon as it's bright enough to see, wrinkles her nose at the bits of hair and tissue on the rim, before examining the rest closely.
She jumps at the sound of his voice, just over her shoulder. "I can assure you that there's no magic guiding me right now."
Caroline can't see any blood on the stem, the area he'd touched appears clean. Still, she can't help but be skeptical, "So you just deploy sex eyes after every battle and I'm the lucky recipient this time?"
His hands come to rest on the counter on either side of her, caging her in loosely. He's not quite touching her, she can just feel the barest hint of his heat through the thin layer of nightwear she's got on. She feels him inhale, his chest pressing lightly to her back for a moment, his exhale tickling the back of her neck. "I don't want to be rude…" he murmurs, ignoring her snort of disbelief, "…and ask about your… species once more. But you're old, are you not?"
"Define old."
"Centuries, I'd guess. Perhaps not as many as I've seen but more than any of the attackers you dispatched so neatly."
He's right but Caroline hasn't survived for so long, and so quietly, without knowing how to keep her own secrets. "Maybe," she admits. "So?"
"You've fought before."
"If I'm as old as you say it would be hard to avoid, wouldn't it?"
It's another non-answer but he doesn't call her on it. She feels the rasp of his stubble against her bare shoulder, his body settling along the length of hers. "Haven't you ever celebrated afterwards? Been desperate, frantic, needful? Haven't you wanted to calm your racing heart, feel your skin slick and hot against another's, reveled in need and enjoyed being alive?"
"Not for a long time."
He hums, "A shame."
She finds that she wants to press back against him, to curve her hand into his hair and direct his mouth to her skin. She turns her head so she can see him, "If this is some weird ploy to get me to forget about the fact that you trashed my shop…"
Impatience flickers over his features and he spins her, urging her back against the counter. Her thighs part and she bites back a moan when he surges against her, the thick line of his cock rubbing against the thin silk of her nightie. "Tell me to go, and I'll go. I'll return tomorrow and we can discuss how much I owe you for repairs."
"And lost stock," Caroline can't help but add.
He sighs, tinged with exasperation. "And lost stock. Or we can discuss it over breakfast tomorrow. I bet you've got a good view of the sunrise from upstairs."
"I'm not much of an early riser."
He smirks, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "Who says you'll have slept?"
Caroline decides that she's controlled her instincts long enough. She arches into him, sliding a hand into his hair. Her eyes flutterer shut as his mouth slants over hers. He tears her nightgown away easily, his palms hot on her back, dipping to palm her ass and rock bare flesh against him.
There's nothing slow or searching in this kiss, it's all heat and need. Klaus licks into her mouth with a groan, grinds against her when she draws his lip between her teeth. He tears away after a moment, lips swollen and eyes beginning to gleam gold, and boosts her onto the counter.
Caroline's really glad that she hadn't picked the glass one.
It's a fleeting thought, easily chased away by his hands on her thighs. She grabs at his shirt, yanking it away from him, smoothing her hands over his newly revealed skin. His lips find her throat, dragging down the curve as he pulls her to the edge of the countertop, urging her to spread her legs wide. His head bends, watching as his fingers brush against her folds. She whimpers when he strokes her open, squirming as his exploration slows and turns feather light. "I thought about you like this when you stormed down those stairs," he rasps. "Barely clothed and furious, you were ravishing."
"Klaus, I…"
"The way you look right now though, ravishing is too paltry a word. You're so pretty, quivering against my fingertips."
"Less talking," Caroline demands, rolling her hips against his hand, "I want…"
He nips at the curve of her breast, tongue following to soothe the sting. His thumb rubs over her opening, coming away wet, and pressing against her clit. "I think you like the talking, love."
She barely hears him, too caught up in the slow build of sensations – his lips brushing her nipple, the tremors of pleasure that shudder through her as he draws tight little circles over her most sensitive part. Her breathing grows shallow, her head tipping back. She grips his shoulders, nails digging in to keep her balance. She can feel his eyes on her but can't bring herself to feel self-conscious, not with how tense he is, the clenching of his muscles under her hands. She's grown slick, straining, rocking against Klaus and the counter in search of release.
He sucks her nipple into his mouth harshly and she cries out, fingers winding in his hair. "You're close, aren't you?"
Caroline nods, frantic, moaning in relief when he sinks two fingers inside of her.
"You feel incredible," Klaus croons, his fingers curling, searching. "I can't wait to see how you taste."
He brushes over the spot inside of her that always makes her shake and Caroline clings to him harder, pants out, "Oh, there. Right there."
He listens, stroking and rubbing until she comes with a shout, her head falling to rest on his shoulder. He draws it out, touch gentle, until she's leaning most of her weight on him to avoid slumping off the counter. He busies himself with unravelling her braid, spreading her hair over her back. When Caroline thinks she can speak again she rolls her head up. "You thought of that the first time you saw me?"
His lips curl, something mischievous in the action. "Technically no. I thought of you wrapped around my cock against the shelves but the night is still young, hmm?"
"You did promise I'd still be awake at dawn."
"So I did," Klaus drawls.
He lifts her, whirling her away. When she hits the shelves he's careful, his hand cradling her head. "I won't break," Caroline tells him.
Their hands tangle on his belt, and she lets him finish, slipping her hand inside to stroke what she can reach of his cock. Klaus shudders, crowding her, hitching her higher with one arm as he shoves his jeans down with the other. Caroline presses the tip of him to her entrance. Klaus' words come out thick, "I'm beginning to understand that."
She moans as he lets her sink down, relishing in the stretch of her still fluttering muscles. Klaus doesn't tease this time, setting a firm pace, his thrusts rough and perfect. When he grates out a demand that she touch herself, that she come for him, Caroline doesn't hesitate.
He's still hard, inside of her, when he takes the steps up to her apartment at a sprint.
Later, when he's behind her, the both of them panting in the early morning light, he asks her again what she is.
This time Caroline tells him, offers him her wrist, invites him to taste her.
Demon blood is a powerful aphrodisiac, after all.