Symbiosis

by adlyb

Disclaimer: I own nothing except these words

Pairing: Klaus/Elena

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships/power dynamics, explicit violence, sexual content, bloodplay, basic vampire stuff

Rating: M


They make their way through the broken spine of Europe so, so slowly. She cannot move during the day, so each day they find somewhere safe to bed down.

Klaus is extremely careful about these places. He will not accept any home that seems too fragile, any room with threadbare curtains or collapsing roof. Instead he prefers the caves along the seam of the Balkans, deep and dark and safe.

Their first night in one of these caves comes a mere two days after her first, nearly disastrous, hunt. Her eyes sting sometimes when her mind brushes against the memory of that night, but she's decided to bury those feelings deep. The only way is forward, and she is determined to go.

She is very hungry.

The darkness within the cave has a weight and a pressure to it, different than the dark of night. The sensation dredges up memories of the night her parents died, of the ice cold water at the bottom of Wickery Creek, rushing in, drowning her in the crush of freezing, total blackness.

If Klaus catches a hint of her unease, he doesn't comment. She's been tense and flighty since they fed the other night.

He sets about lighting a fire, something he does with the kind of ease that always sets her off in flights of fancy about what his life had been in the long centuries before she knew him. "There were caves like this where I grew up," he tells her.

"These caves?" she asks, frowning.

He smiles ruefully, but keeps focused on the fire. "Not these caves."

"You're from here, though, right? Or near enough?" When she says it, she feels like she should know differently, know more specifically—

"You knew the answers to those questions just ten days ago." His eyes flick up to her and back down to the work at hand. "I'm glad you don't anymore, actually. It makes things more interesting if you don't know absolutely everything about me without my having said a word to you about it, don't you think?"

She notices he hasn't answered her question. Once, she might have badgered him, but she's long since grown used to the way he leaps around when he doesn't want to dwell on something.

Elena crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks away from him, toward the mouth of the cave. "I've always found you interesting," she admits, studiously not looking at his reaction.

Klaus doesn't say anything, but she can sense his satisfaction. She can remember a conversation, years ago now, one dark night in an empty house in Guadalajara.

You thought of us, like this, even before our little reunion, didn't you, Elena? When you were all safe and warm in your bed, you thought of what it might be like, to let me in.

It doesn't take Klaus long to get the fire going. The flames set shadows dancing over the rough cave walls, the quick, sharp movements reminding her of something… Something like the shape of the women they had hunted, the ones she was so ready to devour. The shapes and figures dart against the corner of her eyes, the way something living might freeze and run, freeze and run, under a predator's eye, triggering the need to turn, to chase—

She sees her dark-haired victim standing in the silvery light, fear like a ripe sweet cloud around her, and her blood, dark and living, pouring from her neck like nectar from an open flower—

Elena stands and paces while Klaus works, building the fire. The shadows flit over his hands, his shoulders, crackling and wild.

She's on him before she really knows what she's doing, dragging him deeper into the cave, away from the maddening flames, tricking her eyes into seeing things that aren't there. She shoves him against the wall of the cave and mashes her mouth against his, and he lets her. Tears at his shirt and his hair, rakes her fingers over his shoulders, wild and hungry and needing this, to distract her, to replace this terrible yearning within her, anything. Her fangs snag his lip—when had they even dropped?—and then he is snarling into her mouth, flipping them over so that she's the one crushed tight between the jagged rock behind her and the lean, perpetual strength of Klaus's body, a strength more sure and enduring than rock or steel or ocean.

He peels her shirt over her head, and her back scrapes and bleeds and heals and scrapes and bleeds and heals against it as she is ground back into the stone, a cycle that crests and lulls like the pulse of her blood, the pulse of desire that starts low in her belly and fans out like a flame to her center, to the spot between her thighs where Klaus has his thumb, circling, circling. He's undone the button and zipper on her jeans without her noticing, already has his fingers spread over her mound, where he can feel the heat and wet already dripping from her core. Klaus presses her, and she groans, her hands shaking as she pulls him closer, closer, lips trying to find his as she rolls and writhes against him, trying to get his fingers inside of her.

He ignores her efforts, intent on keeping control of this, she's sure. He nips at her neck, the swell of her breast. Anything more than a nip with those blunt, falsely human teeth, could kill her.

It's a razor's edge they're poised on as Klaus maps his way down her body, pressed tight against her as he deftly unbuttons her jeans and drags the skin-molding denim down her legs. She's not wearing anything underneath. From his knees, Klaus presses a kiss to the hollow of her hipbone, where the skin is soft and sensitive. He inhales hard against her skin, and traces his finger down the curve of her pelvis, down, down, to the apex of her inner thigh. When he looks up at her, his eyes are swimming pools of black, broken only by the phosphorescent glow of yellow wolf irises.

"Klaus," she calls. Her voice shakes. Fear, excitement, lust—she's swinging on a pendulum back and forth.

"Shhh," he calms her. "I won't harm you, I swear." He reaches out and squeezes the hand gripping his shoulder so hard her nails draw ruby dark blood from his pale flesh. He slings one of her legs over his shoulder and uses his free hand to hold her hip steady. "Shhh. That's my girl. Just relax now, hmm?" The sound is muffled, like he's—

The first firm stroke of his tongue runs along the whole length of her slit. Elena can feel her body opening to him, as he tongues her again in just the same way, except this time continuing the stroke until he reaches her clit, throbbing and swollen now. His fangs scrape against her flesh when he sucks her clit, but the sick rush of fear she feels—like falling very fast from a high place—does nothing to lessen her body's response to him, her own desire for him.

She can feel the power of the creature between her thighs, feel the energy and the strength radiating from him like a live wire. He could cut her with those teeth at any moment. The wall behind her is slick with blood, and she can barely keep her balance. Klaus holds onto her, and she clings to him as though she'll die if she lets go. Maybe she will.

Her orgasm catches her unaware, cresting over her like a churning tide, rolling up sand and debris from the deep with each pulsing wave.

Tears stream down her face. She's not sure why she's crying. Stefan had told her once that all of her emotions would be heightened if she became a vampire. Perhaps it's that. Perhaps.

Klaus regards her from his kneeling position between her legs. His eyes are somewhere in between blue and black—somewhere between wolf and man. He doesn't ask her what's wrong, or offer any solace. He's never been like that, and the familiarity of his lack of emotional regard is actually comforting.

He disengages from between her legs, and pulls her to standing. He cups her face as he kisses her. His tongue and teeth coax her mouth open, but she is the one who delves into his mouth, tasting herself in the dark recesses. Herself, no one else.

"Feeling better now?" he asks.

"Yes." She meets his eyes, blinks away the remaining tears. "Klaus—how do you keep from losing yourself? To the vampire."

He shrugs. "One and the same, love. No need to worry about losing myself to what I am."

She presses her face to his chest. "The other night, I wouldn't have stopped if you hadn't made me. I couldn't have. It was like I was barely even me at all. It scares me."

"I think you've got it turned around," he tells her dryly. He twines a curl around his finger. "So perhaps you were a bit out of control the other night. You were a bit out of control tonight too—and it was fun, wasn't it?"

She pulls away from him. "You're talking about two different things. I don't want to hurt people. Or at least, I don't want to kill, if I can avoid it."

He gives her a frankly pitying look. "That attitude will tear you apart."

"I mean it."

"Far be it for me to dissuade you. But have a care, Elena. Your self-control won't hold out forever. I won't let you destroy yourself with guilt when it fails."

"What does that mean?"

He doesn't answer her.

Ten minutes ago, he'd been the one on his knees before her, but that was only because he'd chosen to go there. As a human, as the doppelganger, she'd always been able to find some leverage for herself, some way to use herself and what she was as a means of achieving her ends. There was always some use for her, something someone desperately needed that only her blood and ultimately her consent could provide. But now she's lost that edge. As a vampire, how can she assert herself? She has only her love for him—a love he reciprocates, twisted and changed from what she would have once recognized as love. What good is love to bargain with a man like Klaus? She wonders how she will ever gain truly equal footing with him again.

"I missed you, these past few months," he tells her suddenly.

"What?" she asks him. She realizes her arms are crossed under breasts, a serious and defensive posture she took so often that last year in Mystic Falls.

He gestures vaguely at her. "When you were gone. I missed you, Elena. You're caught in a net, and you're struggling to get out of it. Not to run away—you won't run from me again, will you? Not when you're so used to standing your ground, for looking for some other way out. You'd much rather strike at me elsewhere." He smiles at her, a real smile.

She's totally disarmed by it. Her mouth hangs open, caught on a word she never finds. How can he be so mercurial? How can he stand so distant from her, that when she is contemplating her worth, he can stand back and knock her over, with just the thing she secretly wishes he would tell her more often?

He closes the gap between them and hauls her up against him. "None of this matters right now, dearheart." He wraps his arms around her, and she cannot help herself. She returns his embrace. "We'll figure it out eventually."

Elena believes him. It's always her problem, the trap she falls into again and again, but she believes him.

Eventually, he leads her back to the fire, where he lays out a scavenged blanket for their bedding. She lies on her belly and lets him lick the blood from her back. His body covers her as he licks her clean, his tongue slow and thorough as he laves the sensitive skin of her back.

She can still see the flicker of movement from the fire, just out of focus, keeping her edgy. She closes her eyes and focuses on the feel of Klaus heavy against her. Like this, she can forget everything else, just narrow her world down to the heat from the fire making everything warm, on the feel of Klaus so close to her.

She rolls her hips, pushing her ass against him. He's already hard. It takes hardly anything at all to push aside their remaining clothes. And then he is inside her.

Like this, he feels huge. His chest, damp with sweat, presses against her back, and his arms cover her arms. He grips her wrists as he fucks her from behind, each thrust slow and deep. Everything narrows down to just the sensation of him between her legs, a hot, tight swell that comes and goes, comes and goes, no matter that she wishes he would just stay.

"Klaus—" She can't hang onto a thought, not with him prying something loose within her.

"There's my girl," he murmurs in her ear. He pushes her sweat-matted hair aside and sucks on the sensitive skin of her neck, the space between her jaw and her ear.

She bucks back desperately against him. "Klaus, don't leave—"

"Shhh." The command is just a puff of air against her shoulder, but she obeys it. He presses himself even closer than before, molding himself completely to her back, and begins to whisper things in her ear, things that are familiar but only half-remembered.

When she comes, this time, it is not so terrible as the last time. Klaus's presence behind her, solid and real, is something to hold on to.

Vaguely, there is a part of her that is certain the same must be true for Klaus. It must be.


A/N: Thank you for reading! Please drop me a review if you're enjoying this :)