You wake up late in the afternoon. Rebekah isn't lying next to you. For a moment, you think she broke her word— dissipated into thin air. Maybe you moved too quickly. You've barely had any real time to cement your affection in Rebekah's heart. It's too sudden. Your heart sinks dread-low before you hear clanking from the kitchen.

You're smiling even without being aware of it. The utter relief tastes sweet.

You take your time getting dressed. You find yourself lingering over your appearance when normally you would gloss over imperfections. Not much— just black eyeshadow to darken your lash line. Tinted lip gloss.

Why on Earth are you bothering with this, you scold yourself. Rebekah saw you sleep bleary and barefaced and still wanted you last night.

(Okay— you know why. You find yourself embarrassingly eager to impress her).

Like she doesn't already know exactly who and what you are. Like you don't know what she is.

"Good morning!" You say, breezing into the kitchen like Rebekah didn't hear you spend nearly an hour getting ready.

"Good morning, darling." Rebekah is making a cappuccino with an espresso machine you know you did not have before you went to New York. She's wearing a dress that you recognize from your closet. (That one you suppose is alright, she is the one who bought it for you).

"Make yourself at home," you say, amused, "When did you get that?"

Rebekah plasters on a too large smile. "I don't feel the need to submit to your interrogation."

Laughing, you press a kiss to her temple and make yourself tea. Your lipgloss smudges in a red print on her skin. You don't have the heart to wipe it away.

Rebekah made pancakes and slightly burnt bacon. It's so sweet you ignore the slightly lumpy batter and the sheer amount of maple syrup she drenched them in.

"I thought you said you didn't like playing housewife?" You say after taking a bite. Despite the texture, they're surprisingly good.

Rebekah sniffs. "That's because my brothers would shunt all cooking to me for the rest of time because they lack common decency. No one yet has deserved my effort."

You smile teasingly and bat your eyelashes. "Until me?"

Rebekah, instead of joking, responds seriously.

"Until you," she says and kisses you. She tastes like maple syrup, a sticky in the corner of her mouth. Your eyes stay glued to her as she draws away.

(You've always known how beautiful Rebekah is. It's as obvious as the sun, or a hammer to the head. She's proud and demanding and funny even when she doesn't mean to be. You come to the realization that you would eat decades of crunchy bacon for her).

((Maybe even centuries)).

You don't even normally like blondes.

"What do you want to do today?" You ask in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

"I could think of a few things."

You swallow and hide your burning face behind a glass of orange juice. Pulp gets stuck in your throat.

"I don't know what you mean," you choke out in between coughs. Rebekah laughs, the wretch.

She's evil.

You finish your breakfast (lunch? Early dinner?) together and chatter about New York.

"I'll take you there myself. Nik didn't do nearly as good a job as he should have. It's New York!"

"Pretty much all cities are the same."

Rebekah's face distorts into a horrified expression.

"I don't know what to do with you Virginians," Rebekah mutters, "Don't have any taste at all." You think she's not just talking about you. "I'll take you to Venice and then you'll see."

You idly finish your tea. "I'd rather go to Singapore, to be honest."

Rebekah's eyes light up. "We could stop by Malaysia and India— make a trip of it."

"The furthest I've been is South Carolina before this week."

Rebekah rests her head, propping it up with her hand. "We have so much to show you."

"Good luck. I'm more of a homebody."

She pats your hand. "We all have our faults."

You let out a long-suffering sigh.

It's almost late enough that sunset isn't far off. You haven't slept this late into the day since… well, since you recovered from your bout of Freya-induced insomnia.

Well, you think, to be fair there were external reasons you were up so late. Your eyes slip to Rebekah's mouth. You get a full body shiver remembering how she kissed you yesterday. Slick and sweet and achingly loving. You come to when Rebekah clears her throat.

"Are you quite alright?" She asks, too amused for her own good.

"Yes, thank you."

You push your chair back and take your dishes to the sink.

"Your heartbeat picked up," Rebekah says, six inches behind you, "Why?"

You jump and almost shatter a plate.

"Probably because my vampiric friend keeps sneaking up on me."

She cocks an eyebrow but doesn't back away when you turn around, keeping you pinned against the counter by bounds of politeness.

"Just a friend?"

"… No," you say, flushing hot on the nape of your neck, "You're not just a friend. Obviously. I don't think there's a word for what you are."

Or any of them, really.

"I suppose I can accept that answer," she says lightly, "For now."

Rebekah winds her hand into your hair and pulls you into a kiss. The faucet, still running behind you, starts to spill onto the counter. You barely notice, too caught up in the way Rebekah's body feels pressed up against yours. You shiver like this is the first time she's ever touched you. Like she didn't spend half the night kissing your lips bruised.

"Rebekah."

She pulls away, smile on her lips. "Yes?"

You can't make your hands break their death grip on your counter. You bite your lip.

"We could play Yahtzee?" You blurt out instead of what you really want to ask.

Rebekah tips her head back and laughs.

You play Yahtzee and beat Rebekah so severely that her brow furrows.

"Again," she insists, "I know how it works now."

"Keep telling yourself that."

She glowers.

"Again!"

You laugh and start a new sheet. You even let Rebekah roll first. It's dark outside now and you have your windows open to let in the cold night air. It tempers the fire currently crackling on the hearth. It feels like you haven't seen daylight in years, even if it's only been a day.

"Is it common for vampires to be able to walk in the sun?" You ask, "Elijah mentioned something about rings once."

Rebekah scoops some of her dice up to re-roll. "I forget how little you know sometimes. Yes, vampires cannot walk in the daylight, but almost all of us have daylight rings. They're rings with lapis lazuli enchanted by witches. Lesser vampires perish in the sun. We do not."

"So you guys are better in basically every single conceivable way?"

Rebekah grins, sharp. "Yes."

"Well," you say after Rebekah writes down her score, "At least I don't have to worry about you guys dying on me."

"That is one advantage. It doesn't look like we stay dead for long either."

She's quiet for a moment. You roll while she's lost in thought.

"Have you seen Finn lately?"

"When I saw Freya. They're inseparable."

"Yes," you say dryly, "I expect that they would be."

Most people would be excited to see their long-lost sibling who they thought was dead.

… Actually, most people probably don't think about those kind of scenarios.

"When you're feeling up to leaving the house, how do you feel about going to the opera? I assume you've never been."

Hm. You let Rebekah change the subject, cocking your head.

"And what assumption are you basing that off of?"

"Your general state of existence."

You kiss your teeth. "Should've seen that one coming. And no, I have not been to the opera before. But I would like to say that I dislike the presumption."

She pats your hand condescendingly. (Hey, that's your move).

"You'll live," Rebekah says.

"Was the opera part of the day you had planned for us?"

Rebekah shrugs and rolls the dice. "It was a consideration. I feel the need to drag you into the world of the upper class."

"Please tell me you're not incredibly classist vampires," you say dryly.

"God no, it's simply wildly amusing to watch wealthy people dance around their little niceties, all the while knowing you could shred them to pieces in a single moment."

"… You're more bloodthirsty than you let on."

Rebekah's grin is sharp.

You lose the second game you play. And the third. You stop Rebekah before she can start a fourth.

"Oh, so now you don't want to play."

You roll your eyes. "You're a sore loser, aren't you?"

"Not at all," Rebekah says smoothly, "More tea?"

"Make it as sweet as you," you reply, saccharine smile plastered on your face. Rebekah rolls her eyes this time.

By now it's late enough that if it were a normal day where you hadn't slept in until 3, you'd probably be going to bed.

As it is, you still might. You don't think you'll get much sleep.

Rebekah slides in next to you on the settee with your tea, draping her legs across your lap. Your eyes linger on inches of pale leg revealed when her skirt shifts up. Her body cradles yours as she presses a cup of tea in your hands.

"A little sweeter than I am, I'm afraid."

You take a sip. She added just the right amount of honey. You smile warmly at her.

"Thank you."

Instead of answering, Rebekah presses a kiss to the closest thing she can reach: the side of your neck. You make an embarrassing sound in the back of your throat, flushing hot.

"You can't just do things like that."

"Why ever not?"

You take a long sip of your tea to hide your face.

"It's rude."

"Oh really?" Rebekah asks, amused. She inches closer to you until she's wrapped around you kisses your neck again. You fumble your tea, narrowly avoiding spilling it all down your front.

"Re— bekah," She holds you in place with her free hand as she sucks dark bruises lower and lower on your neck. "— Fuck. I—"

"Yes?" She murmurs, breath against your neck.

"Why on earth would you make me tea if you had no intention of letting me drink it?" You manage to blurt out.

"As I've said before," Rebekah says, hand winding in your hair, "I've been told I'm needlessly cruel."

You just manage to clank your cup down on the side table before Rebekah pulls you into a heart stopping kiss that makes you want to bury your fingers into her skin until you leave bruises to show that you were there— she's yours. You fall into the urge graciously. Rebekah repays you by forcing your head back by your hair. The trace of her thumb on your neck makes you shiver. More embarrassing noises escape you, but you're gratified to realize Rebekah does the same when your hands creep up to cup the back of her neck. The two of you stumble your way towards your bedroom. You lose most of your clothes on your way, though Rebekah— the terror— still has hers.

You yelp as Rebekah pushes you through the door without warning.

"You're—- not a very good lead," you manage to bite out.

Rebekah arches an eyebrow. "I'm happy to stop."

"Ok, bluff called."

You stumble again as your bed hits the back of your knees and fall flat on your back, Rebekah caging you.

"Going somewhere?" She asks.

You laugh. "Not if you don't want me to."

Rebekah makes a strangled noise somewhere between a scoff, a laugh, and a sigh.

"No human should act like you."

She doesn't give you time to reply before she's pressing hot kisses to your neck, pinning your arms carefully above you. You tug uselessly at her grip. You don't even more an inch and it sends a rush of unexpected desire to settle in your core.

Ah. Well, didn't know you were into that. At least not enough to explain the way your underwear is sticking to you.

"Rebekah—"

"Yes, darling?" She says, watching you squirm.

"I…"

Your head is spinning. You can't think straight— all you know is you want her closer.

Rebekah must be a mindreader.

"How about this," she starts, mischievous smile lurking at the corners of her mouth, "I'm going to do whatever I want and if I want your input, I'll ask for it." She lightly slaps your cheek. You swallow.

"Yep. That sounds good. Sure."

"How are you this much of a mess already?"

"What part of 'very little good experience with sex' did you fail to grasp?"

Rebekah grips your hair so tightly it aches.

"Careful, darling."

The noise that comes out of you at that cannot be held against you in a court of law.

Rebekah cocks her head.

"Do you like being hurt?"

"I— ah— don't know how to answer that." Her grip tightens and you groan despite yourself. Traitor, you should yourself.

"I'm going to hazard a guess that you do."

"It doesn't hurt… It— it just feels good."

"Yes," Rebekah says, amused, "I gathered that."

You flush and try to turn away from her smug expression, which is a little hard when she's pinning you to the bed and holding your head in place.

"Rebekah," you whine.

Rebekah, as per usual, ignores you and does exactly what she wants to do. Hands peel apart what remain of your clothes, gripping soft flesh until your nerve endings sing and burn and crumble to ash.

It's overwhelming. You never want it to stop.

Rebekah continuously tortures you so sufficiently that you feel yourself falling deeper in love with her every minute. You nearly come half a dozen times, each time Rebekah backing away with a teasing grin. You haven't known desperation until now— haven't understood that Rebekah knows best until quite this very minute.

"Settle down," she warns as you pant, breathless, as she denies you again. "Who knew you could be this shameless. Where was this hiding beneath the modest baker?"

"Oh shut up," you groan. Rebekah just laughs. You forget the entire argument when she starts the entire process up again, fingers relentlessly pulsing inside of you. You want to come so badly— you hold your breath hoping to trick Rebekah into letting you.

Just a little more—

"Nice try, darling," she says. You nearly burst into tears when she pulls her fingers away. You can't bear to imagine what watery hurt expression is painted across your face, but it's enough to make Rebekah soften.

"Poor thing," she coos, "I'll give you a break."

She lets you eat her out, wet and dripping— lets you hold her hips in place above you and move her at your own pace. It's addicting in a way you never considered. Soft curls brush your nose as you eat Rebekah out with unparalleled focus. She comes twice that you catch: pulsing things you can feel on your tongue, like heartbeats.

When Rebekah finally pulls away, your mouth is wet and grinning. She pulls you into a fierce kiss without hesitation.

"You've waited long enough, haven't you?"

You nod, desperate with a kind of fervor that sends you back to your primal roots. Rebekah holds you like you've always belonged to each other— like there was never any question of where you would end up. You see the open adoration in her gaze. Thinking about it for too long makes your heart pound. You bite your lip to avoid saying anything you shouldn't, indents of blunt teeth on soft flesh.

Rebekah kisses her way down your sternum until your legs are splayed over her shoulders and you gasp, soft breaths blowing on your open wetness.

"Can I bite you?"

You freeze. Your first impulse is to say absolutely not.

(But Rebekah's been so nice to you. She wouldn't hurt you on purpose).

"W— Well," you manage to say after your brain starts working again, "It's somewhat worrying when you say that so close to my vagina and Klaus— Klaus bit me the second time we met. It wasn't a pleasant experience."

Rebekah's expression sinks into stormy atmosphere.

"What a prick. I'll kill him."

You look at her, amused. "Don't act like you didn't originally intend on killing me."

She rolls her eyes.

"But I didn't."

"A for effort."

"Just to clarify," Rebekah says, ignoring you, "That's a no for biting?"

"… I…"

"I won't make it hurt," she says, looking up at you with hypnotically blue eyes, "It'll feel like heat. I can heal you right after."

If you weren't on vervain, you would blame the overwhelming urge to do exactly as she says on compulsion. Unfortunately, you think you're just pathetic.

"Okay— " you blurt out, "Please."

Rebekah grins, shark-like, and you wonder if you made the smart decision. Then her teeth sink into the flesh on your thigh while she strokes your clit and you lose all ability to form thoughts or feelings.

"Ah— Rebekah!" She hums. You can feel the vibrations through her teeth as she draws in slow mouthfuls of blood. She's right, it doesn't hurt. Your head spins, dizzy with desire and probably blood loss. Rebekah slides two fingers inside, thumb pressing at your clit.

You come instantaneously.

You're not sure if you black out or not. Dizzy static fills your head as you languish in a satisfied puddle. Some animalistic part of you rings the alarm. Wake up! You can't even bear to think. You've been waiting to come for so long that you think maybe you died in her embrace.

What a way to go.

You come to with Rebekah's bloody wrist pressed against your mouth. There's only a momentary pause of disgust before you latch on. She strokes the top of your head.

"There you go," she murmurs, "Good girl."

You swallow and a euphoric wave reenergizes you with every swallow. You're awake again and ready to go again and again and again. If this is what heroin feels like, you suddenly understand the persisting nature of addiction.

"Rebekah," you gasp when you release her wrist, "What the fuck was that?"

She smiles, endlessly satisfied with herself. "That was vampire sex. I honestly didn't expect you to come that quickly. Guess I was right about you wanting to be hurt."

"I changed my mind about biting."

She hums, stroking your head. "I thought you would."

You're not tired anymore. It's been so long you've forgotten how powerful vampire blood is. You think you could stay awake forever.

"… Vampire blood isn't addictive, right? Like I'm not going to have withdrawal or anything."

She laughs.

"No," she says, amused, "You'll be quite alright. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you."

You believe her.

Rebekah holds you while you catch your breath— a more strenuous activity than you expected. You gulp air greedily like you underwent waterboarding and not maybe the most powerful orgasm of your life. Rebekah's eyes watch you, gaze soft. Her thumb traces your shoulder in circles. She's quiet. You're thankful; you think you've run out of words.

Rebekah holds on tight, like you'll disappear if she stops. You get the feeling she wants to say something— something that makes you dizzier than a mountain top to imagine.

(((I love you too, you don't say))).

"Um," you say after your heartbeat settles down to something more acceptable, "No chance you'd want to do that again?"

Rebekah laughs and kisses you until you taste iron.

As always, let me know if you spot typos. my brain is fried from academic journals.