BKBKBKBK
Behind a closed bedroom door. Behind a locked bathroom door. Behind a drawn shower curtain.
Bonnie doesn't cry.
The water stings and burns her fingers as it sprays over her hands, scrubbing and scrubbing at her blistering skin.
There were five girls.
Fresh faced and Fearful.
Someone had dressed them in white.
Flowers adorned their heads.
"The only blood fit for the Gods." Marcel had laughed.
Vampires took turns.
And those white gowns were ruined with red.
BKBKBKBKBK
She wraps herself in a bath towel and avoids the mirror.
Go head, do it, have a good look at yourself.
She turns her back and flicks the switch and opens the door to the slow creep of morning crawling through her balcony doors.
The world will no longer be blue.
Her bedroom is quiet and still but her skin prickles and she notices in the corner, seated in the leather club chair, the outline of his figure, the shadows across his face, and the heavy footfall of his boots as he closes the space between them.
"Have you missed me, love?" He drawls, towering over her, making her want nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and affirm with a full-throated 'Yes'.
She drops the towel and slides her arms up over his henley and around his neck, tilting her chin upward so he can see her, and his jaw visibly tightens as she offers him a small broken smile when his eyebrow raises.
"Make it go away," she whispers, pulling him down to her, mouth over mouth, possessing what she believes is hers, unraveling into their kiss that deepens and deepens until she finds it hard to breathe.
Wrapped in his arms, she knows who she is. Pain and confusion drain out and the pent-up charge of magic flows unobstructed. The bedroom lights flicker around them; the balcony doors fling wide open.
Delight.
That is what she sees on his face when he breaks the kiss to comment on the T.V. flipping through channel after channel on its own.
Shaking her head at his enjoyment of her simple parlor tricks, she presses her lips together in a soft shush of air, and the balcony doors slam shut, the flickering lights go dark and the channel flipping stops.
It was not that long ago, he remarks, his sensuous mouth stretched into an impish grin.
She rolls her eyes and he crowds her until the back of her knees bump into the bed. Green eyes wide with hunger, she gazes at the rugged face and ruffled hair that appears out from under the pulled over shirt, and for a breath, she thinks of those memories, those memories that she was told by a witch that were going to come back one day; she doesn't want them, she has her own, and they are striking and haunting, and they consist of Klaus staring down at her.
She lays down for him.
Hands on her waist, he pulls her down to the edge of the bed, thighs resting on either side of his jeans. His fingertips lightly brush up her legs then knead down her thigh, and she sighs, arching her back from his fingers that glide over her brown skin, and then slip into her. Her breath is rapid, her heartbeat quick and timed to his every thrust. And when he can feel the pulsating heat tighten and flutter around his fingers he drops to his knees to kiss her there until it all goes away.
.
BKBKBKBK
"Where were you?"
She is all ragdoll limbs, languid arms and legs, her head lolls forward as he grips her waist, steadying her on top of him. Her dark hair shrouds them both, the tendrils gracing his shoulders, and he steals a kiss before he tells her with ease that he was away tying up loose ends.
She assumes the tying of loose ends is related to their coup so it suffices for the time being. She is exhausted and spent and does not feel like imagining what he did to tie up those loose ends.
"I fought with your brother, "She says, shifting her weight to fall on the side of Klaus, "And I hate fighting with Elijah, he tries so hard," She confesses softly thinking of the many arguments she has had with the eldest Mikaelson over the weeks, but also of his display of patience and consistent concern even when she threatened to raze the house.
Side by side, eye to eye, he brushes her hair from her face, "Why do you feel so strongly?" He says curiously, the space between his eyes creased, his eyes narrowed and piercing.
She recounts the near draining of the five witches. Her voice is small when she tells him she stood among the audience, Marcel's loyalists, a collection of devoted vampires and sycophantic witches, indiscernible among them, a blank face in the crowd when the girls screamed.
"They weren't rebels, they hadn't broken any of his stupid laws, but he tortured them, "Her voice breaks, "Just because he can."
BKBKBKBK
Her hot cheek is pressed against his cold chest, the shell of her ear flush against him, mesmerized by the silence.
His fingers are under the veil of her hair, caressing the nape of her neck, "I am taking you away."
And she smiles, feeling each word as if she had spoken.
"Where will we go?" She asks, playing along, thinking he is humoring her because she is a mess of emotions, and she slides her leg over him, and offers up a suggestion before he answers, "I would like to be near the sea."
BKBKBKBK
They make love.
Mouth parted, she moans. He is behind her, pushing and pulling her the way he wants, his fingers embedded in the flesh at her hips. Cold lips are at the back of her neck; she moves along with him, slowly, slowly now; he wants to fuck her slow.
There are kisses at her nape, and then the sudden scrape of his fangs, and she cannot take any more.
Do it.
Her blood runs thick into his mouth when she comes.
BKBKBK
The day is here.
She will sleep now.
And before she descends, before the moment slips away, before he just might disappear, again
I love you.
And she closes her eyes.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading.