I do not own TVD or TO.
As usual this chapter has some smut in it.
Happy Mother's Day :)
She was in a foul mood.
She had barely closed her eyes when a large hand landed on her shoulder. She ignored it, rolled over, and lifted the heavy blanket above her head. When she slept alone, which was all the time as far as anyone was concerned, she was cold. In the absence of limbs to tangle with she opted for blankets; piled high on the bed.
Her heavy blankets were torn from her body.
She crossed her arms over her chest, tucked her hands into the folds of the grey Henley she had donned for sleep and curled her knees up into the fetal position. She cracked open one tired eye and glared at her baby brother.
He held up his hands and backed away.
"Don't look at me like that."
She glared harder until her gaze would have melted ice and pointed with her knee to the blanket he had dropped on the floor.
"Can't," he swallowed, "you've got company."
Her head protested the movement and her shoulder begged her to lie back down, but she rose the three inches and glared at the offending numbers of the alarm clock: 3:47 AM.
On a Saturday morning.
3:47 AM, on a Saturday morning.
It was a good thing he was out of reach and she was so tired because she might have beaten her brother with a pillow if he were close enough.
"I know what you're gonna say," he grabbed a sweater and tossed it on the bed; he had enough sense not to get within swiping distance. "I already told him to get lost, but he's an entitled ass and demands to see you. It's a good thing Jenna sleeps like the dead."
"Tell him to go away," she croaked. She sat up and pulled on the sweater because she was cold; she had no intention of greeting her early morning visitor. If Damon wanted to talk to her he could wait for a reasonable hour.
"Klaus isn't one to listen," Jeremy rolled his eyes. "And he's got this manic look… like he might murder the whole town if he doesn't get what he wants."
Elena's heart skipped a beat before pounding away. She found herself filled with a confounding mix of irritation, joy and fear. The thought of his arms wrapped around her waist and the steady beating of his heart against her skin knocked her temperature up a few degrees.
"Go back to bed, Jer," she got to her feet, shivering when her toes hit the floorboards. "I'll see what he wants."
"I'm not leaving you alone with him," he shook his head, following her into the hall.
Elena spun on her heel at the top of the stairs and pressed her hand to Jeremy's shoulder, pointing with her free hand to his bedroom door. The last thing she wanted was for him to get in an argument at the threshold and wake up Jenna.
"I will be fine."
"Why the hell would I leave you alone with the evil hybrid?" Jeremy gritted his teeth. Elena was stubborn, but so was he; it was a Gilbert trait.
"Jeremy," she hissed as loud as she dared, "look at me." She was so tired that she wasn't sure what her eyes were revealing, but what he saw there made him pause. "I will be perfectly safe; he's not going to hurt me."
His eyes flickered over her, from her earnest eyes to the grey t-shirt he had never seen before. He gave her a curt nod, backed up and closed the door to his bedroom behind him. He moved into the shared bathroom when he heard her feet on the stairs and tiptoed into her bedroom to stand by the door.
Elena inhaled a shaking breath and gripped the doorknob until her knuckles turned white. Jeremy hadn't been lying about the frenzy in his eyes, but it wasn't mania.
She had seen him in many moods and could register them by the light in his eyes: anger, amusement, hunger, lust, and passion.
She saw none of the emotions she associated with him in his eyes. The gleam there was one she had never seen, but she knew what it was. The tightness around his mouth and slight tremor of his hand confirmed her assumption.
He was afraid. He was shaken to the core.
She was powerless to stop her feet from crossing the barrier to stand in front of him. She didn't even try to keep her hand from cupping his cheek.
"What is it?" The pad of her thumb passed over his bottom lip. The unspoken question hovered between them: 'did your brothers do this?'
He didn't answer. His hands skimmed over her sides, running from her ribs to the curve of her hip and around her back as if to confirm she was really before him but afraid he might hurt her it he pressed too hard.
"Klaus?" Her hand moved from his cheek to his hair, urging him silently to meet her eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew they were standing on the front porch of her house with only the light from the hall to illuminate his face.
"Did you invite them in?"
His question startled her.
"My siblings, sweetheart," he clarified when her brows lowered.
"No," she shook her head, sliding her hands down his arms to his elbows. Her sweater fell open and she shivered against the cold. "Elijah already had an invite, but he moved the other two outside. They never even saw me."
He felt his brows lower in a mirror of hers.
"He was afraid they might be overcome with bloodlust having been daggered for so long," she arched a questioning brow.
"I'll be sure to thank him for that consideration someday," he breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are you doing here?" She shivered. A chill was working up through her bare feet.
"I needed to…" he trailed off, letting his eyes roam over her face. She was in front of him. She was safe. "It's been a very long night."
She could feel her fingers and toes beginning to freeze; they needed to move. She let go of his arms and stepped backwards, pushing the door open with her heel and crossing the threshold.
Her heart wrenched when she saw his shoulders sag. She held the doorknob and whispered low so her voice wouldn't carry back up the stairs to where she suspected Jeremy was listening.
"Wait five minutes," she tucked her hair behind her ear, "and then come in through my window."
She saw the surprise in the rapid blink of his eyes, but she closed the door before he could say anything about the line she had just crossed.
Jeremy frowned when he heard the door shut with a soft click and the sound of the lock engaging. He'd heard very little of the conversation and the words he had managed to make out were in no way telling.
He shook himself of his suspicions and reasoned that the shirt had to belong to Stefan; one she had 'stolen' during their relationship. His reason seemed to be weak to his mind though. Wouldn't he have seen it sometime in the laundry?
He straightened up when Elena entered her bedroom and cocked an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"I told you I wasn't going to leave you alone with him," Jeremy mirrored her expression.
"Why?" Elena crossed her arms. "I told you he won't hurt me."
Jeremy blinked and shook his head. He knew from her tone that she truly believed her words, and that made him want to believe her; he did believe her, but he couldn't understand why that was.
"How can you be so sure of that?"
Elena's teeth sank into her bottom lip. She was so tired and longed to crawl between her sheets; she wanted to curl up in the arms of her lover without having to worry about a sibling barging in. She wanted to come clean; obviously not to Jenna, but those in the know. Jenna could wait a few years until the physical age difference wouldn't raise her brows or until she actually learned about the supernatural and remembered what she knew.
She wanted to tell him right there in her dark bedroom, but if she did she knew they would argue; Jeremy wouldn't come around immediately, and he would definitely raise an objection to him when he came through the window.
"I'm just sure," she held open her bedroom door.
"Lena…"
"I'm tired, Jer," she sighed. "Can we talk about this later?"
"When?" He tilted his head. He knew she was hiding something.
"Later tonight," she closed her eyes. "I'll make dinner and we can talk." Jenna would be out with Alaric.
"I hope by make dinner you mean you're gonna order in," Jeremy smirked.
"Don't insult my cooking skills," she glared weakly.
"When you can boil water without setting the stove on fire I'll stop," he stepped out into the hall. "Dinner?"
"Dinner," she nodded.
She closed her bedroom door when he entered his own room and then closed the bathroom door before crossing to the window. She unhooked the latch, pulled open the pane and felt a swift wind ruffle her hair.
A large hand closed the glass and turned the lock.
She felt his fingers close over her upper arm and spun her around. She stared up into his stormy eyes for a moment before lowering her gaze. Her heart stuttered when she saw what she had failed to notice on the porch.
There was a dark stain on his dark shirt.
Her finger found the hole, no bigger than a pin prick. She caught the spot with her nail and picked at it.
"What happened?" She lowered her hands and grasped the hem.
He didn't fight her, but lifted his arms to facilitate the removal of the soiled material. He let her pull him into the dimly lit bathroom and wipe the dried blood from his chest.
She dropped the facecloth in the hamper and placed her palm where the wound had been. His pectoral muscles quivered under her cold fingers, and his heart jumped but he didn't say anything. The amount of blood on his shirt and the location of the mark told her that someone had targeted his heart; rage flashed through her.
Somebody had hurt him.
Somebody had tried to kill him.
That person was likely still alive too because there was no blood on his hands.
For the first time in her life she felt the urge to cause physical harm.
"What happened with your brothers?" She gritted her teeth.
"I don't want to talk about my brothers now." His fingers curled around her wrist.
"Klaus…" He silenced her with a finger to her lips.
"Later, love," he turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.
"When?" She breathed. There was a familiar light in his eyes and she knew she wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon.
"Breakfast," he kissed the tips of her fingers. "Jeremy gets dinner so I'll take breakfast."
"Jeremy's going to need dinner if he sees you here at breakfast," she sighed.
"I don't want to talk about your brother either." Klaus' fingers slid from her lips to her throat, inching closer to the collar of her sweater.
Elena pulled her arm free and stepped out of his grasp into the bedroom. She motioned him out and closed the door to the ensuite.
She was always cold when she slept alone and so preferred layers, but she would not be lying in her bed alone. With that knowledge in mind she let the sweater slip from her arms to puddle on the floor. His t-shirt followed.
She didn't have to hold out her hand in invitation. She had barely dropped the fabric when he held her waist and bent his head to catch her lips.
Her fingers froze on the path to divesting him of the rest of his clothing. There was something different in the way his mouth moved over hers. Her desire kindled low in her belly as he explored her mouth with his tongue and her torso with his hands, sliding them up and around from her ribs to her shoulders and down to the tips of her fingers.
She murmured his name when he dragged his lips down the column of her throat and over her collarbone. She wasn't sure how to react to the slow exploration of her skin; the way he attempted to memorize the taste and feel of her made her stomach quiver.
He laid kisses across the swell of her breasts.
She dug her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and bit her lip to stifle her moan and stepped out of her pajama pants when he his fingers urged the material down her legs.
Her panties soon followed.
She backed out of his arms. Lying back on the mattress she watched him remove the rest of his clothes and spread her legs. She was unsurprised when knelt between her thighs and slid into her, joining them together with one smooth thrust.
From a human being the action would have been inconsiderate and potentially dangerous, but he could smell her arousal and knew she was ready. He needed to be inside her.
Her head fell back and she gasped.
Her spine tingled, but there was nothing animalistic about their coupling. There was none of the wild frenzy that almost always brought them together. There was no dirty talk to make her shiver.
There was only the intensity in his eyes.
She thought that might just be more stimulating than all of the rest.
It was a slow climb as he moved in her with long, deliberate strokes. His hands slowly roamed the length of her body squeezing the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast, and the back of her thigh. His mouth alternated between swallowing her louder moans and teasing her throat.
Her breath caught when his thumb slid between them.
She was flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but there was no hope of being cold with the fire he was stoking to life.
She kissed him when he started to speed up a bit. Her limbs tightened around him as her muscles grew taut.
There was no begging involved.
He felt her orgasm in the strain of her muscles and pushed her over the edge with sure flicks of his thumb. He followed her, spurred on by her fluttering walls. He buried his face in her neck to stifle his grunts and spilled inside her.
She ran her fingers up and down his spine as he panted against her throat. She switched to rubbing circles between his shoulder blades when she felt him shaking on top of her.
"She was in the fifth casket."
"Who?" Elena slid her toes down his calve.
He laid his head on her breast and held her arm, clinging to her as if frightened she would vanish at any moment.
She shifted, trying to see his face, but it was hard to move while he had her pinned down. He hadn't even pulled himself free from her warmth. She could feel him there, soft and still. She was in no rush to break the bubble of intimacy but she thought he might be more open to talking if he saw her face.
"Klaus?" She gave up trying to move and settled for running a comforting hand through his hair, massaging the tense muscles at the base of his skull. "Who was it?"
He had hung up before he could answer earlier; distracted by the arrival of his brothers, and later her.
She was starting to think he wouldn't answer when he murmured against her breast. Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment she wasn't sure she had heard him right.
"Your mother?" She felt him nod; something wet spread over her skin.
He nodded.
Elena slid her toes down the length of his leg once more and caught the edge of the sheet. It rose a few inches when she dragged her foot back up.
He seemed to realize the same moment she did that he was crushing her and slipped from her warmth.
She gasped when she found herself empty and clenched around nothing. He lifted the sheet to cover them and curled his arm around her waist.
He held her close, afraid she would disappear if he let go, and buried his nose in her hair. He felt her stiffen in his arms as he told her everything in halting syllables; the truth he had only told one other person in his thousand years.
Elena listened in silence as the tale unfolded. She had heard bits of it from Elijah but now she was being treated to his side of things: rage, murder and remorse.
She was silent when he finished talking, and if not for her steady heartbeat he would have thought she had fallen asleep. His grip slackened as she shifted. He expected her to run from the monster he had just revealed himself to be.
Elena saw it in his eyes when she rolled over: fear that she would leave, and the plea that she stay. It was the intense vulnerability on his face that brought her hand to cup his cheek; she leaned closer and brushed her lips over his.
In the months that she had known him she had learned a few things. She knew that he had a habit of acting without thinking.
His hand settled on her hip.
"Why are you telling me this?" She traced her fingers over his tattoo; it was her post-coital habit.
It seemed a strange time to be telling her about the morbidity of carting around his mother's corpse.
"Because," he pulled her close, "she walked into the mansion tonight."
It was not the weak warmth of the sun or the cold permeating the room that roused her from slumber; it was the slamming of her bedroom door and the subsequent gasp.
It was the whisper shriek of her best friend.
Elena bolted up to find herself alone in the bed. She clutched the sheet to her chest and turned to find Caroline staring at her with a mix of pride and embarrassment in her eyes.
"Somebody got lucky last night," she crowed as loud as she dared.
"Shut up," Elena gave a pointed look to the door and pressed her thighs together beneath the sheet.
"Come on then," Caroline tossed her a nightshirt from the drawer, "I want details. Did your one-night stand sneak out the window?"
"He's not a one night stand," Elena murmured without thinking.
"I guess not."
Elena glanced up from where she was adjusting the night dress. Her eyes widened when she saw the slip of paper in her friend's hand. She felt certain he hadn't signed it when Caroline gushed.
"Aw," she waved the note, "that's so sweet."
"Give me that," Elena snatched the note and read it quickly. Her eyes scanned the letters confirming her assumption.
I had specific plans for how to wake you this morning, but alas family obligations called me away. I know I said we would indulge in breakfast, but the first time I share a meal with you in your family home should happen after I've been introduced to your family. Until our next rendezvous, sweetheart.
"Sorry," Caroline held out her hands in a placating gesture. "It's just been so long since you've shown interest in anyone."
"Just don't be reading my notes," Elena folded the slip of paper. "He's got a habit of leaving… colourful messages."
"Okay," Caroline mimed crossing her heart, "but you gotta give me something."
"That depends on what you want," Elena cocked an eyebrow.
"Information," Caroline rolled her eyes. "Does he go to our school? What's he like?"
"He doesn't go to school," Elena shook her head, "he's… older."
"What does he do then?" Caroline leaned back on her palms as Elena moved towards the bathroom.
"He's an artist," Elena grabbed a towel. "A very passionate artist with great attention to details." She put emphasis on the last half of the sentence knowing that was what Caroline really wanted to know.
"Are you going to tell me his name?" Caroline stood and called through the bathroom door. She heard the hesitation in her friend's voice over the sudden rush of water.
"I'd rather not."
She shrugged and turned back to the room to busy herself while she waited for Elena to re-emerge. She straightened the blankets, fluffed the pillows on the window seat and did her best to ignore the combination of sweat and sex lingering in the air.
She froze though when she returned to the bed to fix the pillows. There was something else lingering over the sheets; the smell was familiar and foreign at the same time, and she couldn't place it.
It was woodsy and familiar, combined with a subtle spice she took to be the man's cologne.
The underlying smell, the unaltered scent of Elena's lover, couldn't be placed, but she knew she had smelt it somewhere before; she knew that scent like she knew her own name.
O_o