Notes: Once again, this took a ridiculously long time! Fingers crossed I'm back into the groove. I ended up deciding that one more chapter in this time period was necessary, and that some clarification of Caroline's feelings would probably be a good idea. This story now has not one, but two beauteous covers. Big thanks to klarolinessecondbreakfast and romanoffsbite on Tumblr! Next chapter will (probably) be a mega one, covering the years Klaus and Caroline are apart. And then we move on to the final, fun, section! Big thanks to all the reviewers, followers, and favoriters. And anyone who'd popped into my inbox, with love for this story. It's greatly appreciated (and motivating!). I really would have liked to make another pass at this, but I've got to head to work. Please excuse any major errors!
Part Ten: Caroline: Age 21, Klaus: Age 28 (February)
"That didn't take long, Nik. I'm a bit disappointed. Hopefully Caroline wasn't."
The mocking words are delivered loudly, with an exaggerated eyebrow wriggle, which tells Klaus that his brother is still drunk. Several partially empty dishes litter the tables of the VIP section, so he knows that Kol has at least attempted to heed Klaus' demands to sober up. A good thing, since Klaus does not fancy dragging an inebriated Kol home tonight. He's done it before, and it's never pleasant.
Bonnie had made a noise of disgust and kindly smacked Kol in the back of his head, saving Klaus the trouble, after his crass words.
Kol grumbled, "Ouch, woman," and rubbed the abused spot.
"Thank you, Bonnie," Klaus said with a grateful nod, helping himself to a plate of nachos.
"You're welcome," she replied, moving slightly away from Kol.
The two of them had been alone, talking closely, when Klaus had climbed the stairs up to their private section. He sort of wants to make comments, at Kol's expense, but forces himself not to. No need to rile Kol up, especially when he's tipsy enough to forget the bargain he'd made with Caroline about being discrete. Caroline was still insisting that she needed to have a private conversation with Rebekah, something about girl code, and that Marcel's club was not the place to do it.
She'd refused to return to his siblings, and her friends, in his company, leaving Klaus in Marcel's office while she'd left first to find Rebekah again. She'd insisted that he wait five minutes before following. Almost made a man feel cheap.
Rebekah and Caroline had been happily ensconced on the dance floor again, when Klaus had eventually emerged. Elena and Lexi with them. He'd then spotted Marcel in deep, official looking, conversation with Gia.
Klaus assumed that Stefan was either hiding in the bathroom, to avoid the torture of being made to dance, or at one of the bars numbing his disgust at social interaction with bourbon. Klaus didn't exactly blame him. Clubs like this one hadn't been his favorite place, even when he'd been twenty-one. And now? The music was giving him a headache, and he had no desire to watch drunk frat boys paw at his little sister and her friends, particularly the one who'd so sweetly come apart under him, not fifteen minutes ago. Klaus pulled out his phone to check the time, repressing a groan when he mentally calculated that it would be at least an hour and a half before he could even suggest they call it a night.
He knew they'd end up stopping somewhere to eat, and then they'd need to drop off Bonnie and Elena at their hotel, and then Stefan and Lexi at their homes. Which meant Klaus was looking at close to four hours before he'd be back at his own apartment.
The things he let Rebekah talk him into, honestly. Klaus needed to remember this, the next time she attempted puppy eyes and a wheedling tone.
Bonnie and Kol had started bickering, something about Bonnie's plans for tomorrow, and Klaus tuned them out. As if called by Klaus' darkening mood, the waitress appeared at the top of the stairs. Klaus waved her over, rationalizing that he deserved another drink, if he was to remain here.
"Shower's free," Caroline announces, walking into the kitchen. She passes Klaus, where he's leaning against the counter, without even glancing at him. "I even rushed so the birthday girl could have plenty of hot water." She's dressed for bed, in pajama pants and a hooded sweatshirt, slippers on her feet. She's not said a direct word to him, since they'd parted in Marcel's office hours ago.
She's barely even looked at him, and it makes Klaus distinctly uncomfortable. He looks down, as if his tea cup is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, and hopes Rebekah doesn't notice any of the odd tension that Klaus feels.
"As it should be," Rebekah sniffs loftily, pushing back the plate of pie she'd been picking at, "I still think it's highly unfair that you got to go first."
"It's not my fault you always lose at rock paper scissors, Bekah," Caroline shoots back. "Please say you didn't eat all the pie."
"Kol tried," Rebekah tells her, getting up from the stool. "But I saved you a piece. It's behind Nik's beer in the refrigerator."
"Awesome, thanks!" Caroline opens the indicated door, and begins to rummage, emerging with the generous slice of chocolate cream pie that Rebekah had nearly stabbed Kol with a fork to protect earlier.
"I'm going to shower, and then go to bed. Do be quiet, Caroline. I need my beauty sleep."
Caroline rolls her eyes, and takes Rebekah's vacated stool, "Yeah, yeah. Goodnight."
"Night," Rebekah echoes, walking towards the doorway. She spins back, her face uncharacteristically soft, "And thank you, Nik. I had a wonderful birthday."
Klaus blinks, surprised at the genuine expression of gratitude, but manages to say, "You're welcome, Bekah. I'm glad."
Rebekah nods once, before leaving the room. And leaving Klaus alone with Caroline, since Kol is once again monopolizing the other bathroom.
Caroline's head is lowered, a curtain of damp hair hiding her face from him. She's not eating, merely dragging her fork through the whipped cream on her pie. Klaus watches her, from the corner of his eye. He's startled by the clatter of metal on porcelain, and then Caroline's moving suddenly.
She's off of her stool and right in front of him, plucking his cup out of his unresisting hands and setting it aside. She steps into him, and Klaus widens his stance to give her room, and her hands clutch the side of his shirt, "This is weird," she blurts. "I'm making it weird and I'm sorry."
She looks anxious, and Klaus wants to stroke away the lines of tension in her body, the crinkle that mars her forehead, wants her happy and teasing and relaxed again.
He slides his hands up her arms, and she sways closer. "I don't understand why, Caroline. You seemed sure, earlier. Forty hours, remember?"
She manages a half-smile, "Just under thirty-six, now."
"Right," Klaus confirms, not pleased with the reminder. "Have you changed your mind?"
"No," Caroline quickly insists. "No. Not at all. It just freaks me out how easy this is, you know?"
Klaus has an inkling of what she means, but he's managed to misinterpret her before, so asking for a little clarification is probably wise, "I'm not sure I follow, love."
She bites her lip, and Klaus feels her knuckles press into his sides, as her grasp of his shirt tightens. "Okay, so the thing is, I might have harbored a teeny, tiny, crush on you when I was a kid."
"You don't say," Klaus replies, tone dry. Because that was hardly news to him.
Caroline glares, though there's little actual rancor to it. "Hey, it's not my fault. I was raised on a steady diet of cartoons. And then you came along with the dimples and the accent? Face it Klaus, to tiny-me you were basically a real life Disney prince."
"I'm both flattered and disturbed by that," Klaus muses.
She manages a real smile, and a short laugh, before she continues, "But the thing about crushes? They usually disappoint. You build them up in your head, and they're all shiny and magical. And then reality is just… blah. But you're not blah at all. Not really shiny and magical either, but…"
She trails off, her eyes flitting away, but Klaus would very much like to hear the end of that sentence so he prompts her, "But?"
Her lips part, before pressing together again, her head tipping to the side as she struggles with words. "I don't even know. Real? Sometimes you're annoying, and you don't always say the right thing, but I almost never say the right thing so…"
Klaus cuts her off, pressing his mouth to hers, making an effort to keep things gentle and sweet, even though the press of her body against his is incredibly tempting. He'd been denied this, all night, so he wants to savor the taste of her, the way her lips mold to his, and the little hums of contentment that she makes against his tongue.
He smiles when he pulls away, reversing their positions so she's the one against the cupboards. He leans in to kiss her again, but she dodges. Klaus pulls back, and the look that he shoots her is questioning, "Wait, just a second," she requests. "Because if I don't say this now you'll distract me and then things will get awkward again in the morning. And neither of us wants that."
Klaus nods, stepping back, so that he can only feel the barest hint of her warmth, "As I was saying. It freaks me out," Caroline says, and Klaus stiffens. She rushes to continue, her grip on his shirt firm, "How easy I find it to be with you like this. And not just the sex part, but all of it. It's the worst possible time. I'm graduating in May. And then Bekah and I are going to avoid being real grownups for two months in Europe but after that? I have no clue what my life is going to be like. That's scary enough without the thought that I'm going to be pining after some guy I spent a couple of days with. I don't want to miss you, Klaus."
It's terrible, but Klaus' first reaction is relief. He has a sneaking suspicion that he's going to be thinking of Caroline, long after she's gone, just as she'd flitted through his thoughts at inopportune times after their mistletoe interlude over the holidays. She's been so inconsistent with her actions, hot and cold and then hot again. Klaus had half thought that she might leave New York with nothing but fond memories of the orgasms he'd provided her with.
"I understand that, Caroline. Just as I'd understand if you chose to put a stop to whatever it is we've been doing. I want you, of course. But not reluctantly, not with half your mind dreading what's to come. But let me ask you, do you think it will help? Will you regret what we do, or will you look back and regret what we might have?"
"Ugh. There you go being annoying again," Caroline complains. "You know I hate not knowing things."
"Sorry, love," Klaus tells her, only partially repentant.
She snorts, evidently not fooled, muttering, "No you're not," before she wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him into her. He responds, his hands wandering up her back, before tangling in her hair. She nips his bottom lip and soothes the sting with the point of her tongue.
Klaus groans, pulling back, holding her steady when she tries to follow, "The words, Caroline. Tell me what you want."
She lets out a sigh, and when she speaks again it's a reluctant confession, "I think I'm going to miss you, no matter what. And who knows, this might be our one shot. Maybe you'll meet someone, tomorrow, or next week, and the next time I hear from you you'll be engaged and disgustingly happy."
"Or you will be," Klaus counters, knowing that the scenario she's describing is exceedingly unlikely. He doesn't connect quickly, or easily, and he doesn't see that changing in the near future.
Caroline shoots him an incredulous look, "Please. I'm only twenty-one. But that's not the point. I'll regret not taking advantage of the limited time we have. I'm strong enough to deal with whatever comes after."
And Klaus would need to be as well. But that's a thought for later, and likely better had with a drink in his hand.
When Caroline curls a hand in his hair, and draws him closer Klaus goes willingly, and seals his mouth to hers, kissing her. Their earlier gentleness quickly turns to urgency, and Klaus crowds her back against the counters. Her hands slide under his shirt and Klaus is helpless to stop the noise of pleasure that escapes him, at her hands on his skin. She swallows it, her fingers crawling up his back to pull him closer. Klaus gets his hands between them, draws down the zipper of her sweatshirt, the sound of the teeth loud in the silence of the kitchen. He shoves it off her shoulders, running his mouth down her neck, moving the strap of her tank top aside to kiss the smooth skin of her shoulder.
He's just about to boost her onto the counter, thoughts of lowering the strap on the other side, rolling her shirt down to her waist, on his mind, when a throat is cleared loudly, and obnoxiously, behind them.
Klaus groans in irritation, as he pulls back. Caroline's eyes are wide, when his open, her lips wet and swollen. Klaus straightens her shirt, chancing a glance down, biting back another groan, this one for entirely different reasons, when he sees the clear outline of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric. God, Kol's timing truly was abhorrent.
"Honestly, you two are disgusting. People eat in here, you know. And by people I mean me."
"You're more than welcome not to," Klaus informs his brother, his ire obvious. Caroline gropes behind her, where her sweatshirt has pooled on the countertop, and shrugs it on, zipping it all the way up. She offers Klaus a small smile, "I should go to bed anyway. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Klaus sighs, long and loud, turning to glare at Kol for a moment, before he presses a kiss to Caroline's temple, "Tomorrow, love. Goodnight."
She pads out of the kitchen, nearly silent in her printed slippers, shoving Kol not so gently when he leers at her on her way out.
Kol stumbles and laughs, but lets her pass without further comment, his eyes lighting up when he sees the nearly untouched pie Caroline had left behind. "Finders keepers," he crows, darting forward and grabbing the fork, taking a generous bite. "I sort of feel the need to scrub my eyeballs but this makes up for it. Though, I have no idea how anyone could find you more appealing than this. No accounting for taste, I suppose."
Klaus grits his teeth, makes an effort to keep his volume low, as he catches his brother's eye, "Here's what's going to happen, Kol. You're going to find some way to entertain yourself tomorrow. I don't care how, or where, as long as it's not here. You will be gone from noon until at least seven PM. Or I will do everything I can to make you miserable for the foreseeable future. Do you understand?"
Kol seems to sense how serious he is, and refrains from making the jokes Klaus imagines he's dying to, "And if I don't?"
"You will," Klaus counters firmly. "Or else."
Kol watches him, before finally conceding with a grudging nod, "Fine. I'll vacate the premises so you can continue despoiling Caroline."
"Why thank you, Kol," Klaus drawls, "I knew you'd see things my way."
The next morning, Klaus gets up before anyone else. He makes coffee, enjoys the peace that will be broken the minute Rebekah and Kol wake up. They're incapable of maintaining civility for long, and neither are at their best in the morning. Elijah seems to think they'll grow out of it eventually. Klaus has his doubts.
He thinks about breakfast, and a stray thought, a memory, wanders through his mind and he smirks to himself. He had made a promise, hadn't he? It's only right to keep it.
He tries to be quiet, so he doesn't wake Kol, who's sleeping on the couch. He starts gathering ingredients, sets out a skillet to heat. Breakfast foods had always been their mother's specialty, so it's the one thing that all of them, even Rebekah who can barely manage an edible pasta otherwise, have a decent grasp on.
Klaus works diligently for several minutes, soon has bacon cooking and the components for omelettes assembled. A movement out of the corner of his eye catches Klaus' attention, just as he's about to flip the first pancake. Kol has sat up, his hair a mess and eyes bleary, "Food," he mutters voice slurred and drowsy, "I smell food."
Klaus shakes his head, turns his attention back to his task, "Well spotted, Kol. And you're not touching a bite until the girls are up, so don't even think about it."
"Easy remedy," Kol says, almost to himself. He shoves the blankets off and stumbles to his feet, darting down the hallway to the bedroom before Klaus can tell him to stop.
It takes a few moments, but then the quiet is shattered by Rebekah's voice, raised and irate, followed by Kol's. Klaus can't quite make out the words, though they're getting progressively louder. So much for peace, Klaus can't help but think mournfully, removing the cooked pancake and setting it in the warmed oven.
He turns down the burners and leaves the kitchen, pokes his head into the spare bedroom, laughing at what he sees. Kol's insinuated himself on the middle of the bed, and Klaus would bet a good deal of money that Rebekah and Caroline had been rudely awakened by his weight diving on and disturbing them. Kol's got both of his arms extended, struggling to push them off the sides, but they're both holding on, clinging to blankets and the edge of the mattress. Rebekah's red faced and spitting curses, while Caroline seems half asleep.
"If you all are quite done, I've made breakfast."
It distracts them, and they all turn to look at him. Kol takes advantage of the girls' distraction, shoving them both out of the bed. Klaus winces, as they both tumble to the floor, and then tries not to laugh again, as Kol is pinned with angry glares from over either side of the bed.
Kol is, of course, unperturbed, hoping to his feet and clapping his hands, "Right. Let's eat. I'm hungry and Nik said I couldn't have breakfast until your lazy arses got up. So really, think of your wakeup call as entirely his fault."
And then he leaves the room, and Klaus is subject to the angry gazes of the blondes on the floor. He holds up his hands, backing away, "In my defense, I'd planned to keep everything warm, until you woke up. But Kol is well, Kol, so…"
"He's a wanker," Rebekah complains huffily, dragging herself to her feet. She grabs a robe, flings it on and knots it in jerky movements, "Like all my brothers are. There had better be bacon. And coffee."
She stomps past him, and Klaus turns his attention to Caroline, who's also risen. She's tying her hair into a messy knot, and Klaus attention is drawn to the strip of bare skin between her sleep pants and top. He licks his lips, remembering that he'd had his mouth there, not too long ago. When his eyes meet hers, she's got a tiny knowing smirk tilting her lips. "Morning, Klaus," Caroline says softly. "What's for breakfast?"
It occurs to Klaus that this is the second day in a row that his siblings have interfered in what could have been a very good morning, for him and Caroline. He fights back the images that want to flood his mind (because he's wearing sweatpants, that conceal nothing, and he's very little time before he'll be needed in the kitchen). His imagination wants to run wild, to fantasize of how he'd like to wake her. How he'd have her body climbing first thing, slow and lazy, with his mouth between her thighs.
Later, he promises himself. He'll have that before she leaves. And then later still, at some vague point in the future, because Klaus can't imagine this weekend will be all of her that he's allowed.
He's about to say something, to ensure that he's not the only one thinking about later, when a crash from the kitchen makes him jump. Caroline giggles, bending down to put on her slippers, and Klaus is torn between the view down the front of her shirt, and racing to make sure his siblings haven't managed to destroy his apartment. Another sound, an alarmingly loud scraping, reaches his ears and Klaus groans in aggravation. "I'm making pancakes, love. Because I seem to remember you've a fondness." He registers the soft look of surprised happiness that crosses her face, and wishes he could stay longer to enjoy it, before he's turning and leaving the room.
After breakfast Rebekah had pulled Caroline back into the spare room. She'd closed the door, blithely playing the 'it's my birthday' card, to get out of helping with the cleanup and ignoring Kol's protests. Klaus is certain that Rebekah's planning on obsessively trying on outfits, and fretting about her date with Marcel. He shoves the thought out of his mind, still not entirely on board with the idea of his baby sister and his best friend.
Klaus mostly tunes out Kol's complaints, washing dishes and wiping the countertops, his occasional absent interjections enough to keep Kol going. Eventually they settle in the living room, Klaus with his sketchbook and Kol with the newspaper, sometimes discussing things Kol finds interesting or amusing.
The only sound from the apartment's other occupants is the opening of doors, and footsteps on hard wood, as one or both of them go back and forth to the bathroom. It's just about noon when Marcel buzzes up, and Kol shouts for Rebekah to hurry up, because her date's here, and it's not as though she's going to get any prettier, in the next twenty seconds, after hours of primping, now is it?
Caroline emerges first, dressed casually in leggings and a sweater, and flicks the back of Kol's head in warning. "She's nervous. Don't be a douche." She doesn't say anything else, but the narrow eyed expression on her face when she looks at him warns Klaus that he is also expected to be on his best behavior.
It chafes, but Klaus is resigned. Because Bekah's leaving too, in twenty seven hours, so he knows he has little reason to worry. He's certain that his warnings, and his friendship with Marcel, will keep things at a slow pace. When Bekah moves into Marcel's building, in the fall, that's when Klaus is going to have problems being gracious.
There's a knock at the door, and Caroline rushes to get it, throwing one last warning look over her shoulder, before she throws it open and greets Marcel brightly, "Hi! Come on in, Bekah will be out in a second."
She's barely finished her sentence, before Rebekah's breezing out into the living room, shoes and a coat already on. She's all smiles for Marcel, barely sparing Klaus and Kol a glance. Caroline's looking right at them however, and likely reads their unimpressed expressions just fine, so she hustle's Marcel and Rebekah out, before Kol can say anything that will anger Rebekah, or Klaus can try to make Marcel uncomfortable.
She leans against the door, once it's safely shut, and Klaus immediately turns expectant eyes on to Kol, the demand that he leave the premises clear.
Kol throws up his hands, tosses the newspaper aside, "Fine, fine. I'm going. I'll wander the streets like a beggar, while you two have your tawdry afternoon delight. Do remember that I sleep on this couch, and keep it in the bedroom, hmm?"
Klaus doesn't reply, only lets his expression grow blacker, and more menacing. Kol leaves, with much noise, complaining the entire time. Caroline attempts to say goodbye, but he ignores her, slamming the door behind him.
"Ugh, rude," Caroline mutters, walking closer, "I kind of want to say we should do it on the couch, just to be spiteful."
Klaus catches her hips, pulling her down onto his lap, "Tempting. I am a fan of vengeance, in most cases. But I believe I said I wanted you in my bed. And then there's always the risk that Rebekah will pop back in, having forgotten something."
Caroline freezes, her hands going to his shoulders to push herself off, darting a distrustful glance at the door. Klaus wraps an arm around her back, keeping her in place, "Caroline, relax. I honestly think Bekah would react better than you imagine she would. And even if she was angry, she'd not hold out for long. The pair of you have not managed to maintain a fight for more than three days in your entire lives. She'd miss you, since you tolerate her nonsense far better than anyone else. You'd grovel, she'd grudgingly forgive you and lord it over you for a bit, but then things would go back to normal."
"I know. You're probably right. But Bekah knowing…" Caroline grimaces, shakes her head, "Never mind. It's not important," she leans in, evidently trying to smother her discontented thoughts with sex.
Klaus stops her, turning his head until she withdraws with a pout, "Sorry, love. Bad things happen when you avoid. Tell me why you don't want Rebekah to know."
"She will know," Caroline points out, shifting slightly, more proof of her unease, "I just think it's better if I tell her after the fact. If I play it off like a semi-drunken fling. It'll be easier if it's just the two of us, if you're not around."
"And why is that?" Klaus asks, his temper pricking. "That's not what this is, Caroline. You know that."
"I do," she says, avoiding his eyes. Caroline's fingers pluck nervously at his shirt, and Klaus tries for patience. She takes a deep breath, her words escaping in a rush, "Bekah knows me better than anyone. If she sees me with you, now, knowing that we've been together I'm afraid she might read that it's more than just a hook up, in how I act, how I know I probably look at you. And then she'll never let it go. Because she loves me, and she loves you, and she'd want us to be happy, even if she'd bitch about it. And if she won't let it go, how will I?"
Klaus deflates, at that, slumping back into the couch. Rebekah's words from last night ring through his mind, and he knows Caroline is entirely correct. His sister is persistent and she'd react exactly like Caroline assumes, if she caught wind of the existence of more tender feelings between them. He lets out a rueful laugh, "We're a mess, sweetheart."
Caroline nods, in agreement. "It's gonna hurt," she says, resigned. "No matter what. So, screw it. Let's go to bed, and make it worth it."
She pushes harder against him, and Klaus lets her go. She stands before him, and peels off her sweater, challenge and mischief and heat crawling across her face, as she looks down at him. Klaus leans forward, kisses her stomach, that tempting bit of skin he'd eyed earlier. He lets his hands rest on her thighs, glides them up, lingering on her arse as he stands. He raises an interested eyebrow, pinching a bit of the clingy fabric and letting it snap back against her, "Are you wearing anything under these, love?"
"Nope," Caroline chirps, her hands going behind her back. The fabric of her bra loosens, but she crosses an arm in front of her chest coyly, spinning away from him, before leaving the room, the sway of her hips deliberate and provocative.
Klaus hurries to catch up, pulling his shirt over his head, as soon as he crosses the threshold of his room, his chest soon colliding with her back. He tugs her bra from her grasp and palms her breasts. Caroline gasps, her neck arching back against his shoulder. He lets his lips wander over the curve of it, as he toys with her stiffening nipples. One of his hands slips down her stomach, easily delving past the fabric of her leggings, and her thighs widen to give him room. He glides a fingertip over the seam of her, thrilled at the heat and dampness he finds. Her hips jut forward, against his hand, begging for a firmer touch, but Klaus keeps it teasing, just pressing into her folds. She moans, as he grazes her clit, one hand lifting up to wrap around his neck.
She shifts against him restlessly, chasing the too light brushes of his fingertips, her skin heating against his. Finally, with a frustrated noise, Caroline wraps her hand around his wrist, trying to force him to touch her where she needs it. Klaus withdraws entirely, and she protests, until he hooks his fingers into waist of her pants, and begins drawing them down her thighs.
He urges her to turn, when they're halfway down, nudging her back in short steps, until she bumps into the bed, and sits down. Klaus kneels, pulling the fabric down her calves and then throwing it over his shoulder. He pushes her thighs apart, leans down and licks, with none of the gentle build up he'd treated her to the first night. He doesn't have time, he realizes, and he wants her to come, again and again. He wants her exhausted and sated and thinking of him, even when his siblings return, and they're pretending there's nothing between them.
Caroline doesn't seem to mind his directness, as she falls back on the bed with a strangled whimper, her thighs widening and her toes curling into the floor. It doesn't take long until she's trembling against him, clenching desperately against the fingers he's got buried inside of her, as he sucks on her clit, her body growing more and more taut. She says his name as she comes, a long hoarse moan, that Klaus knows he'll remember, long after she leaves.
He eases her through, until she sags against the bed, before he stands. Klaus' hands are shaking as they strip his pants and boxer briefs away. He enjoys the sight of Caroline, boneless and sprawled across the end of his bed, her curls mussed against his sheets. He enjoys it even more, when she eases up on her elbows, shifting back towards the pillows and parting her thighs, her eyes warm with invitation and want, as Klaus crawls over her.
He reaches for a condom, curses when she runs her nails down his sides, one hand sneaking between them to wrap around his cock. She rolls her thumb around the head, and Klaus shudders, makes himself brush her hands away to put on the condom. She holds his gaze, as she licks her thumb, the little noise of enjoyment she makes at the taste of him sending a jolt of need through him. "Caroline," he groans, a warning and a plea.
"Klaus," she says back, deceptively innocent and flirtatious.
He grits his teeth, eases inside of her, supporting himself on his forearms, watching her eyes flutter shut and her lips part as he goes deeper. He needs a minute, when he's fully seated, because they've done fast and hard and dirty. He want this to be slow, wants her clawing at his back and writhing. Wants thoughts of more, the only ones she's capable of having.
She moves under him, rolling her hips, but Klaus resists the temptation. He shifts up to kiss her, and she shivers, the angle providing fleeting pressure against her clit, and soon she's panting into his mouth, trying to grind up into him.
"Klaus," she says again, this time with an edge of need, her skin flushed and breaths ragged. "Move. I want…" she falters, when he obeys, her head digging back into the pillows, as he withdraws and thrusts, slow and even.
"I know what you want, Caroline. And I'll give it to you. I promise. I'll make it worth it," Klaus recalls her earlier words, repeats them in a low, determined, murmur.
She nods mutely, trusting him, her legs creeping up his sides, to wrap around his hips, her hold on him tightening as they move together, slow and deliberate until they're both moaning and straining for release.
Later, having spent the afternoon tangled together on his bed, they lie side by side, spent. Klaus had kept his promise, more than once. He's reluctant to move, even now. His body aches pleasantly but he thinks he could easily be roused for another round.
But there's no time. It's nearly five o'clock, and they're already running the risk of Rebekah returning and finding them is a less than put together state.
It's Caroline who finally sits up, with an unhappy sigh, tossing him an apologetic look before speaking, "We should shower."
Klaus smirks suggestively, purposefully misinterpreting her words, "Well, if you insist…"
She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips, "Separately. But nice try."
"Foiled again," Klaus replies lightly, watching her get up, taking the sheet with her. He stays where he is, enjoys her slow perusal of his uncovered form, her appreciation and her clear hesitance to leave. It means something, that she so obviously wants to stay, wants to climb back into bed with him.
But Caroline's nothing if not stubborn and practical and she turns to go. She pauses at the door, looking back to him, clearing her throat. "Just so you know, I'm glad you happened to be at that bar, the night before last. Whatever happens or doesn't happen. I don't regret anything."
There's a finality to her statement that Klaus doesn't like, so he sits up, hurriedly pulls on his sweatpants, and approaches her. "Nor do I, Caroline," he assures her softly, tucking her wild hair behind her ear, and pressing a kiss to her cheek, "I've had a fantastic time with you. And perhaps your optimism is infectious, but I rather think we'll be here again, someday."
She leans back against the door, arches a skeptical eyebrow, "Pretty sure optimism's not sexually transmitted. How are you so sure?"
Klaus grins, "We'll see each other again, Caroline. We're stuck with each other, at this point. And, in case you forgot, you still owe me a proper dinner date."
She shakes her head, bites her lip to suppress a smile, "That's right. I owe you one date. At some point. In the future."
"Exactly. I always collect on my debts, you see."
He kisses her, against the door of his bedroom, deeply and carefully, fairly certain it'll be his last opportunity. He's sure she'll be monopolized by Rebekah, and Kol, for the rest of the weekend. He wants to make it count, wants her to remember it, so that when the time comes, she'll be eager and willing to accept his company.
He thinks he's succeeded when he pulls back, when her eyes are slow to open, when they're hazy and dark and immediately drop to his lips, like she's only barely managing to hold back from demanding another taste of him.
He eases away from her, knowing that if he doesn't he might not be able to. "I'll see you at dinner, Caroline."
She swallows hard, and nods, leaves without another word.
Klaus runs a hand through his hair, surveys his bed, the blankets askew and half the pillows on the floor. He could change the sheets, but he won't, not for another day or two. He'll relive the memories while she's here, do his best to shove them away when she's gone.
But Klaus had meant what he'd said. He felt it, with a surety that was rare for him. They'd have another chance. Someday.