A/N:*Warning there are lemons ahead. Turn back if you're not a fan of the juicy sweet-sour!* Here's another one, Bennett Fandom. I've written and deleted this update so many times I probably could take to the stage and recite every line of it by heart! But enough of my creative melt down. Let's just get into it…
Bonnie waited for Finn in the yellow tea room. For forty-five minutes she'd waited for Finn in the fucking yellow tea room! As requested she'd been prompt. She'd even torn herself from one of her newest favorite things to do…Elijah! So where the shit break was he? Whatever, was going down between them needed to happen ASAP. She promised Jeremy she'd meet him in Mystic Woods in a few hours for another ounce of, Rocket Man, 'shrooms and a persuasive essay.
Apart from the deal, she wanted to explore the woods while the rays from the sun still lit the way. She planned to retrace her steps to see if her dream had been more than a dream. Secretly, she hoped it'd somehow lead her back to Niklaus. How fucked to the side was she? Every inch of her ached for a reunion with a possible figment of her twisted imagination. Those wide clear blues eyes—without a hint of deception to the first—owned her. They consumed her. Not one of her thoughts would line up for longer than sixty seconds if they didn't feature him.
"Why aren't you kneeling?" Finn's voice snatched her from her unfolding obsession. She opened her mouth to make up an excuse to skip out on whatever he had planned, only to have him shut her down. "Follow me." He spun on his heel and marched out of the room.
Bonnie followed him from the room, and then trailed him down the hall. They moved in discontented silence. Neither squandered even a word on meaningless chitchat. After several minutes of walking and ear pounding quietness he stopped in front of a wall in the west hallway. The solid partition had a cherry oak paneled sectioning which disrupted the flow of the entire wall lining the hall. Finn removed a key fob from his pocket. When he pressed a button on the device the paneling slid away to reveal the inner compartment of an elevator.
"You may enter," he said to her in a quiet but firm tone.
Not risking being told twice, she stepped on the elevator. He followed, and then pressed a button marked S on the wall. As the elevator descended the silence continued to knock louder than any Beatz by Dre. Finn's silent condemnation sucked all of the air from the tiny space. By the time the doors slid open her nerves had yanked her inside out. All the potential would be's and could be's swirling around in her head ate away most of her calm until she tweaked harder than Jeremy after two blunts of Rocket Man.
Once they exited the elevator Bonnie continued to trail Finn through the maze of corridors that made up the sub-level of the mansion. Several turns later they stood in front of a steel door that appeared to conceal the place where Jigsaw readied his victims for their final game. Although the thought provoked her heart to pump fear by the pint, her pop rocker gushed liquid heat by the gallon. She wasn't sure what erotic role play Finn had in mind, but she was a little less than positive she was there for the freak shit.
She waited as Finn pressed in a series of patterns into the keypad next to the door. The metal barrier swung open. He entered first, and then hurled a directing glare at her over his shoulder when he noticed she still lingered on the opposite side of the threshold.
Once again Bonnie found herself at the proverbial crossroad. Should she go in and submit to whatever disturbing act he had instore for her or should she turn and walk away? A sigh raised and dropped her chest. She'd be a damn fool to try and ignore the nagging at the back of her mind when it came to him. Fact was, the elder Mikaelson intrigued her almost more than his younger siblings. If she was to ever truly know him on the same level as the others she had to be willing to step off the ledge and accept what came next. After a moment of deliberation curiosity nudged her feet forward.
Once inside her heart dodged several beats. The room was massive. His private space had to extend under at least half of the mansion. Bonnie scanned her surroundings as her gut flipped and bubbled. What the shit break had she gotten herself into? She'd known Finn had a few kinks, but as she gazed around she came to a fast conclusion he just may very well be the god of pervy.
A bank of televisions lined one wall. Each of the screens displayed various rooms in the mansion and pool bungalows. Her lungs refused to accept air as a memory of her and Kol's first play session singed the walls of her mind. Had Finn actually witnessed her take down by the hands and tongue of his baby brother?
Stunned way past the point of obvious emotions, her gaze skipped to the next screen. Her heart froze mid-beat. The monitor displayed Rebekah's bathroom. The wet and wild fun she'd experienced there automatically replayed itself in her head. Unholy fuckery! Finn had managed to turn her into a got damned porn vixen! Her eyes flicked back to him. He returned her gaze with an undaunted stare. His severely rigid expression lacked even a hint of shame.
"You've been s-spying on me," she uttered.
Instead of feeling violated, a tingling thrill crept down her spine. Warmth bloomed in her lower abdomen. Intrigue sparked her mental. She knew she should be pissed, but she couldn't move beyond being turned on by the fact he'd witnessed every moment of pleasure she'd ever encountered within the walls of Mikaelson House.
The soles of her shoes shuffled across the limestone floor as she made her way further into the room. Her gaze left the televisions to move over the space in its entirety. A king sized mattress that fit inside of a wooden base sat in the center of the open space covered in nothing but a black leather fitted sheet. The ceiling above the bed donned a large mirror identical to the one on the opposing wall. Context clues whispered naughty things about the bed serving a purpose which had absolutely nothing to do with sleeping.
Different, um…toys lined another stone wall. And just right of the whips, ball gags, and what appeared to be nipple clamps, a two hundred foot large link chain hung suspended from the overhead. The excess of the potential restraint was piled behind a wooden throne that sat on an elevated cherry wood platform. Low lit torches dangled from the ceiling and glowed from strategic placements within the wood paneled and stone walls, giving the underground hideaway a dim ghostly glimmer.
The far side of the room housed a toilet, Jacuzzi sized whirlpool bath, and a glass stall shower. There were no dividing walls to conceal the area from prying eyes. This led Bonnie to believe Finn didn't give a single fuck about privacy. Which didn't surprise her. Judging by his televised surveillance of almost every room in Mikaelson House, he clearly held no respect for the sanctity of clandestineness. Yet the items on his wall of hurt made it Windex clear he had extreme reverence for pain when accompanied with pleasure. Hell, the entire sub-level set up gave off major medieval torture room vibes.
"Walk over to the hearth, turn to face me, and then remove your shirt," Finn's voice derailed her train of thought.
Bonnie stumbled over air. "Damn, I can't have a snack or mild conversation first? You just want to get right to it, huh." She sputtered.
Finn continued to watch her without mumbling a sound. After a moment of the visual back and forth, she crossed the room and followed his instructions order for order. Once her t-shirt rested a few paces to the left on the floor, she lifted her chin. Instead of rising to her silent challenge his bored eyes crept over her chest in a slow as shit review.
"Now discard your brassiere," Finn said, while moving forward until he stood a few steps from her.
Bonnie reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Reluctantly, she allowed the stiff cotton fabric to slide down her arms and drop to her feet. She kicked the under garment towards her shirt. Her fingers then went for the button on her jean shorts.
"Remove your hands from the fastener on your trousers," his command left his lips in a normal tone, but every letter of each word oozed reprimand from the seams.
She snatched her fingers from the button as if the metal had singed the pads of her digits. After a full five minutes of scrutinizing her breasts his shrewd stare rose to reclaim her face.
"Unbutton your trousers, remove them along with your knickers," he instructed.
Defiance rode her hard and fast. Who the fuck did he take her for, an empty headed stripper with a Simon says complex? Please! She hated all three of Mystic Falls' stop signs for attempting to tell her what the hell to do. So what the hell did she look like running him her control?
Bonnie threw up her middle finger to obedience and glared holes through Finn. Several minutes slipped by, before she realized he had time she didn't. Attempting to out wait a vampire was the equivalent of fire picking a fight with water. The move would be foolish, fucking detrimental, and pointless. So instead, she packed away her anger and ego. After a moment of wrestling with her bossy nature, she then removed her shorts and underwear as directed. Grudgingly, she cast them to the side with the benefit of several after thoughts. Once she'd stripped bare ass she then met his gaze.
The muscle in his jaw twitched as he considered her. "Now place yourself in the center of the room, face away from me, kneel, and lift your hair free of you neck."
This time Bonnie followed instructions. Being naked before him, while he remained fully clothed made her feel exposed and vulnerable. When her knees met the limestone floor, she gathered her hair and placed it on the top of her head. A few seconds later Finn fastened a leather choker around her neck. The accessory reminded her of a damn dog collar.
After he placed the choker around her neck, he moved away to stand to the side. "Firstly, I'll address the guidelines."
"What," Bonnie's glare snapped to him. Her eyes crossed on impact. The fucking riding crop was back.
"Guideline number one; you will not speak unless, you're addressed directly, raise your hand to be granted permission, or need to employ your safe word which will be pumpernickel," he said as he caressed her cheek with the tasseled end of the riding crop. "Guideline number two; your eyes will remain straight ahead unless otherwise instructed." He utilized the end of the crop to nudge her face in a forward direction.
Bonnie's eyes narrowed, before she retrained them on the stone wall in front of her. She was one more guideline away from telling him what he could do with his guidelines.
"Guideline number three," she rolled her eyes, "while in the Vault you are to address me as Master Mikaelson. Outside of these walls you may refer to me as Lord Mikaelson or either my lord." He allowed the crop to drift from her cheek to graze the side of her neck. "Guideline number four; while within the walls of the Vault you are to don your collar with no exceptions." So it was a fucking collar! "At the conclusion of my lessons I will remove it before your departure. However, under no circumstances are you ever permitted to handle the collar. To do so will result in immediate corrective action."
So what, now she's on the same level as a dog? Rebekah adored her, Kol lusted for every inch of her and Elijah had not only worshiped her within an inch of her being, but he'd also romanced her. Who the hell was Finn to collar her? He should be the one on his knees seeking approval from her, not the other way around.
She should tell him to kiss her ass and just leave…no! She needed Finn to adore her, lust for her, and worship her too. Motherfuck her daddy issues! Because of those bullshit shortcomings she required Finn's praise, more than she needed her pride.
"Guideline number five; within the walls of the Vault, you're to kneel until I convey otherwise." The crop drifted from her neck to her collar bone. She bit her bottom lip to suppress a laugh. "Guideline number six; within the walls of the Vault profaned words will not be tolerated. Which ushers us to guideline number seven. Within these walls you'll present yourself in a fashion that is pleasing to my sight, hearing, taste, and sense of smell."
Well fucking, fuckery, fuck!
"Guideline number eight; within these walls you'll not touch me or enter my bed without permission." The tasseled end of the crop teased one of her nipples. A gasp interrupted the flow of air to her lungs for a full three seconds. "Guideline number nine; within and outside of these walls you will not practice deceptive behavior or speak deliberate falsehoods to me or my mother."
One shoulder bobbed in a shrug. Honesty was not a problem for her. In fact it was the only one of his rules that didn't make her want to kick him in the sand bags.
"Guideline number ten; the only item you will don within the Vault is your collar. Any other article of clothing is not permitted unless I state otherwise and even then said clothing will be provided by me." The riding crop blazed a trail down her abdomen and over her midsection. "The guidelines I've addressed are the core rules of the Vault. If you should defy any of these guidelines in mind or body you are required to inform me immediately and plead for my pardon." The crop slipped between the lips of her pop rocker. She nearly drooled when the wired length made contact with her pearl. "Any violation of these edicts will be strictly enforced and you will accept whatever correction or penance I deem fitting for any offense against the guidelines you may commit." At a fast pace he continued to flick the length of the crop over her clit. The pinnacle of her end loomed just couple of hip sways away. "Are we in agreement?"
Her head bobbed. "Y-yes, master M-Mikaelson," she stuttered.
Right before she reached a sky scraping climax, he withdrew the riding crop from her pop rocker. "You should be aware, within these wall I am the sole owner of your orgasms." He slapped his open palm with the tasseled end of the crop. "For each one of them you will be required to plead your case. And should you be granted a release then you are to express just gratitude for every deathless demise you suffer."
Pissed way beyond normal calming tactics, she raised her hand. After a minute of holding the appendage up like an idiot he finally acknowledged her, "You may speak, Miss Bennett."
"Um, may I have the orgasm you just snatched back?" She questioned in a voice drenched with scorn and straight attitude.
"No you may not!" He answered. Her heart dropped to her ankle. No? "Since entering the Vault, you've defied me three times. It is my judgement that at present you are undeserving of a release. Pleasure must be given to be gained. Now rise."
Bonnie rediscovered her footing and forced herself to remain in the dungeon of denied orgasms despite the overwhelming urge she felt to kick rocks.
Finn strolled closer to her. For several minutes his gaze moved over her. After he'd eyeballed his fill, he reached up and slipped his hands into her hair. The pads of his fingers began to massage her scalp. Her eyes rolled closed. Each stroke stimulated every pleasure center in her body. Prickles of ecstasy rippled from her scalp, undulated through the nerves of her neck to surge down her spine.
"Ooooh," she moaned.
His hands left her scalp to massage their way down her neck and over her shoulders. The pads of his fingers skimmed her collar bones and she snickered. Ignoring her slip in protocol, his appendages continued to travel until they palmed her breasts. When he began to knead them and manipulate her nipples with his thumbs, her pop rocker sprung a leak. Her eyelids snapped open in time to see Finn's nostrils twitch, and then flare as the sharp points of his fangs peeped from beneath the bottom of his upper lip.
Too soon his hands left her breasts and glided over her abdomen. Moments later he slipped two fingers between her nether lips. Her eyes once again slipped closed. His digits grazed her clit before pressing themselves into the intimate entrance of her body. Phantom spasms shook to life at the very center of her gushing core. An entire light show slaughtered the darkness behind her lids as she ground her pop rocker into the heel of his hand. A barrage of moans and gasps exhausted her vocal chords.
"Open your eyes and look at me," he demanded. His tone calm and undisturbed.
Her eyes popped open to take possession of his blue-green gaze. While his diagnostic stare stalked each one of her facial changes, she memorized the ingenious curve and sharp edges of his striking features. As his fingers continued to play in the shallow waters of her overflowing channel, her fingertips brushed the edges of a hellified conclusion.
The walls of her pop rocker began to quake. Holy shit balls! She was so fucking close. She dropped her head back to regard the ceiling as she continuously slammed her pearl tongue into his cupped palm. However, a second before she had the chance to step off the ledge of a mind blowing peak, Finn removed his hand and backed away from her.
"We will reconvene on Wednesday in the yellow tea room after your academic discussions," he said, taking another step back. "After you wash yourself you may replace your clothing on your person. Once you have completed those tasks you are liberated to seek your leave."
Finn then zipped over to the wall that held the televisions and gave his attention over to the screens. While Bonnie could do no more than watch his back as one single thought burned to hell in her mind...exactly how much magic would it take to butcher an original vampire?
Greta packed away the last of the ingredients required to break the sun and moon curse. She shut the trunk, and then murmured an uncloaking chant. Klaus' coffin appeared in the center of her altar room. She walked to the casket and lifted the lid. A smile touched her lips. Gazing down at the original's peaceful expression calmed some of her doubts and the sense of foreboding which stalked her peace of mind. Some, however, being the operative word. For a majority of her witch's instincts still flashed bright red hazard signs before her third eye. The ominous warnings spelled irrevocable changes on the impending horizon. Changes that may overthrow the relationship she and he had built for the past two years.
Greta rested her forehead on his chest. Memories of when she first met Klaus Mikaelson bubbled to the forefront of her mind. He'd rocked her reality without even laying a finger on her. The way he carried himself, articulated his point of view, and used his mind as his most lethal weapon inspired her. Her father had always taught her to respect the rules of family, friendship, and nature, but Klaus taught her it was possible to exist in a world governed by no rules. He repeatedly encouraged her to never censor herself for the sake for others. Candidness was always welcomed among them. Their openness with each other gave her life. That's why she'd rather stop breathing than lose him.
Living without him wasn't an option. There's no sin or act of love she wouldn't commit for him. Like the breaking of the sun and moon curse. The spell had a high probability of being her last. It would take more power than she or Lucy possessed. What else could she do, though? Allow Klaus to be disappointed by another Bennett pretender? Hell no! She refused to stand by and watch him suffer longer than was necessary. A part of himself was missing and the loss which shimmered in the depths of his eyes weighed heavy on her.
After a moment longer she pulled her feelings back, and then lowered the lid on the coffin. A cloaking chant easily slid from her lips in Latin. When the coffin disappeared from sight she crossed the room to the empty trunk. She inhaled enough oxygen to rupture her lungs, and then exhaled. With a heavy heart she resumed her packing. An hour or so later toned arms encircled her mid-section. Warm lips nuzzled the curve her neck. A knowing grin pushed at the corners of her mouth.
"Your aura is more turbulent than usual and extremely cloudy," Lucy's sultry voice provoked her sweet girl to clench. "Are you still troubled over Nik-Nik's absence?" The Bennett witch pressed her lips to the curve of Greta's neck. "If you are, don't be. I'm sure he had his reasons for leaving in the middle of the night without so much as a whisper." A hint of sarcasm tainted the older witch's tone. She gave Lucy the side-eye who in turn gave her waist a squeeze. "Okay, sure! That part is kind of unsettling, but, G…you have to know how much he loves you."
Did he, though? Did he truly love her? Because his mouth had never spoken the words and his eyes had never conveyed the message either. "It's this sun and moon curse."
"Oh, performer's anxiety," Lucy said.
Greta gave her an over the shoulder glare before continuing. "And don't even get me started on the prospective Bennett Witch his family just can't seem to get over. I'll be so happy when all of this foolishness is in our rearview."
Lucy unwound her arms from around Greta's mid-section and moved to stand beside her.
"Well regardless the reason, you're definitely stressed. Lucky for you however, I'm a certified stress reliever. So while you finish up here." She removed her bag from her arm and placed it on a stack of grimoires.
Greta laughed. "Oh, I'm supposed to finish up here. Silly of me for thinking this was to be a joint effort between you and me."
"Sorry, chocolate girl. Today I'll be catering to you and what I have planned is time sensitive." Lucy once again stepped into her personal space and palmed her breasts.
"Yeah?" She swallowed a moan when Lucy's thumb flicked her nipple. "And what plans would those be?"
"First, I plan to feed you, smoked oysters, fully loaded seafood gumbo, and shrimp scampi," Lucy pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, "and then I plan to eat under the sea until I drown."
"Well make some moves then, Miss Billy Bad Ass." Greta said as she grabbed two hands full of Lucy's perfectly rounded butt cheeks. She then pressed her lips to the only Bennett Witch she cared to know. After several seconds of devouring her mouth she broke the kiss. "Thank you."
"No, thank you for allowing me to be part of this," Lucy whispered. She released her hold on Greta. "Be back in an hour."
"Be careful," she said.
"Not if it's no fun," Lucy said, before pecking her lips once more and pulling herself free of their shared embrace. She then crossed the room and strutted out the door without sparing her an over the shoulder glance.
Greta bit into her bottom lip to prevent herself from grinning like a country dumb fool. Lucy was by far one of the sexiest women she'd ever tasted. Every suggestive bit of the Bennett Witch oozed sex, sex, and more sex. If she wasn't careful the erotic beauty would steal something from her she was nowhere near ready to offer. She turned on her heel to reach for the stack of grimoires. Her eyes rolled. Lucy's bag sat on the pile.
"I swear that girl…"
Snatching the purse from the Grimoires, she ran from the room with the bag clutched in hand. She headed in the direction of the parking garage, and slowed when Lucy's voice drifted to her from just around the corner. She sounded as if she were on the phone.
"Even though I haven't seen his body lying around doesn't me he didn't body jump…because I'm sure!" Lucy hissed. "I've already told you how I know! Every component needed to cast the spell was present and accounted for on her damn altar…yeah well trusting me and enjoying my face time is two different damn things. And what about you? Have you managed to take my baby cousin of the board yet...Exactly!" she paused as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. "Look, you're just going to have to be patient. Greta will slip up soon enough and when the paranoid bitch does it's a wrap. Game mother—fucking—over!" She heard the soft rustle of Lucy's clothing as she continued on down the hall.
Greta's heart stopped for a full two beats. How the hell had her and Klaus not seen through this whore? Beware of the allure of Bennett magic. Her grandmother's words floated back to her. It was her first lesson. Trust no one but family was her second. She shook her head. Damn this bitch was good. Lucy had slid in the slot and played the hell out of both she and Klaus. However, the worse part about the whole shit show was they'd allowed her. Son of a cunt!
Questions surrounded her mental and attacked her brain from all sides. Who the hell was on the other end of the line? What the hell would she gain by taking possession of Klaus' body? Did any of this have anything to do with breaking the sun and moon curse? What the hell's their end game?
Fucking variables had forced the well-built vehicle which transported their thoroughly plotted plans to jump a mountain size curb. And worse than that, Klaus was at a complete disadvantage. If word got out the original was no longer in possession of his body then it'd be just a matter of time before haters came skulking out the fucking wood work hollering about revenge. Shit! He wasn't going to like her accelerating the time table without speaking with him first but oh motherfucking well! She snatched her cell from her pocket and punched a number into the phone.
"Hello," a gruff heavily accented voice answered.
Greta released a sigh before saying, "Ready the jet, Wolfgang. We'll be flying back the states this evening."
Esther gazed at the small cottage house Niklaus had chosen to inhabit during his surreptitious stay in Mystic Falls. The charming little abode tucked away in the middle of Mystic Woods of all places was quite uncharacteristic of him. Usually, her son favored his living quarters to cavort on the more audacious side of grand.
She ascended the steps of the verandah and approached the entrance. Once she stood upon the sunflower welcome mat she raised a clenched hand and knocked upon the door. When a moment or three passed with no response from within the cottage, she permitted her knuckles to collide with the pale oak wood once again. Still no response. Oh for the love of Bonnie! He could be so infuriating. She reached out and turned the door knob. It twisted without resistance. Taking the unlatched entrance as an open invitation, she entered.
The inside of the sparsely furnished cottage appeared to be an ideal place for a lover's tryst. She moved through the small lodgings, allowing her gaze to touch upon anything which would convey her son's mind frame. Yet none of the possessions present gave any indication to his current thought process.
Well none save one. Esther's eyes flared when they landed on an incomplete painting of Bonnie. She was dressed as she was two days before. Her beautiful aquamarine aura flared all around her. Yet what snatched her eyelids further apart was the amber crystal resting upon her bosom. The Bennett Talisman! It appeared unchanged from the time when Ayana donned the magical pendant. Witch's lore stated the amulet had been handed down from mother to first born daughter since the beginning of the Bennett line. The pendant customarily presented itself to the eldest daughter right before she reached the apex of her sorcery. Which could only mean…
A smile discovered Esther's anticipating lips. Bonnie's quickening was nigh indeed. She spun about to take her leave. Preparations! It was imperative she saw to the preparations!
Niklaus exited the cottage from the rear upon Esther's knock on the door. He zipped through the woods contemplating whether Rebekah had betrayed her word to not tell their mother of his exploits. The last issue he wanted to be concerned over was Esther's interfering ways and yet there she stood upon his welcome mat. Even after every step he'd manipulated to avoid such a meet. Her intrusiveness would blunder everything.
He easily dodged low hanging branches as his legs and senses propelled him deeper into Mystic Woods. The draw shoving him forward was almost compulsive in nature. Moments later the hint of vanilla, coconuts, and pineapples crawled into his nostrils to incite his predatory character. A trace of fear mingled with the provocative fragrance. The particular component spurned his speed to an unfounded pace. Soon enough he came upon a break in the forest. A dark haired vampire fed on a group of adolescents, while the object of his deepest curiosity secreted herself behind a tree.
Movement among the carnage drew all three notices to the surviving prey. An unfortunate looking girl with lackluster brown hair pulled herself in an upright position. In seconds the dark haired vampire clutched her in his grasp. He then proceeded to whisper playful nonsense to her. Apparently, he planned to use the wench as a diversion of sorts. Just as his relief soared, the Bennett witch tore from her hiding place and raced towards the vampire. With only time to roll his eyes, he hurtled towards her and intercepted the chit halfway to her target. He then zipped them behind another large tree.
"What the shit-," her emerald eyes flared.
He pressed a finger to her lips. Wisps of potent sorcery wrapped around the digit. Miniature stabs of bliss penetrated his hand and slithered up his arm. "Shh, love. Not every battle should be engaged."
"Get your shitty hands off of me!" She struggled against his hold. "If we don't help that fucker's going to kill her!" When he only stared, while being absolutely unmoved by her declaration she once again attempted to prey upon his assumed humanity. "She's a girl! Bat shit as all get out, but she's still just a girl."
He blinked. The statement tossed him back to a moment in time when an avenging angel of fire and light parted the forest to level his degenerate father with her wrath. "What the shit break is wrong with you? He's a boy! A fucking boy!"
The exploding recollection took everything he thought he comprehended unawares. How could he remember her from a thousand years before and why did the memory only now resurface? "What is the nature of this sorcery, little witch?"
Her lovely features folded into an array of creases as reaffirmed interest in him sparked bright from her verdant eyes. "What did you just call me?"
"Traditionally, questions are presented for the sole pursuit of an answer. Anything other than a direct reply to said question will instigate a disjunction in communication," he said, as he regarded the sensuous curve of her bottom lip.
She narrowed her jeweled tone gaze as her bewitching face puckered. "Then answer my damn question. Why did you call me little witch?" The tension in her face somewhat relaxed just before her eyes burst into flames. "Did Niklaus speak to you about me?"
"What grants you the entitlement to speak his name with such familiarity?" He whispered.
Her mouth snapped shut. She then glanced away before offering him an answer. "I dreamed of him," she murmured. "And I know this may sound whacked as fuck, but because of my dream I feel as though I know him." Without the appearance of thought she stepped closer. "Like really know him. Almost as if he's a detached part of me."
He opened his mouth only to have his opportunity at speech absconded.
"Unhand my paramour, Marcel," Kol's sniveling voice snared the web of rapture in which they found themselves entangled.
She stepped out of his loose hold only to continue beholding him in her fiery emerald gaze. "What the hell did I tell you about my alone time, Toots?"
"Nothing worth remembering, darling," the little prick said as he allowed his gaze to wander freely over the witch's face and person. "Now why are you here fraternizing with one of Nik's less compelling charity incidents?"
Niklaus' gaze narrowed as he endeavored to remember exactly where he'd misplaced Kol's dagger.
The little witch's body wiggled free of his and the large tree trunk at her back. "No need to be classy. Marcel and I was just discussing your brother."
"I'm not sure I understand why any of my brothers would be a thought-provoking topic of discussion, sweetness." When she strolled within his reach, he wrapped his arms around her. "Elijah will never love anyone as much as he love his tailors. Finn will never enjoy plundering your delicious little mouth more than he prefers pressing his lips to mother's backside. And Niklaus, why there's not enough room in his heart for you and his paranoia. I'm the only Mikaelson worthy of you."
"Oh, baby," she murmured. Her arms slid around his neck. "Has anyone ever told you how fuck hot you are when you're jabbing below the belt?"
"You have when you're pleading for me to jab you below the belt." Kol's hand travelled down her spine to squeeze an exceptionally rounded bottom many would cross oceans just to behold. "Yet, how can you resist? I'm quite magnificent am I not?"
Niklaus' eyes rolled. Surely, the witch saw through his baby brother's flirtatious smirks and disingenuous charm.
She laughed. "Would you prefer I stroke your ego now or blow your horn later? I refuse to do both, you conceited bastard."
Standing on the tips of her toes, she pressed a kiss to the insolent sod's vile lips. And for the first time in over a thousand years his beastly nature stirred within the unplumbed depths of him.
In an attempt to take hold of his mounting rage, he fisted his hands. His nails pierced his palms. Cool thickened fluid seeped from the slots of his fingers. He'd had his fill of Kol's over indulged amour-propre. "Kol, I find it amusing that after almost fifty years in a box you still haven't mastered how not to hope for things that frolics outside the realm of possibility." Fifty years, hmph! It would've easily had been a hundred were it not for their ever intruding mother.
"You mean such as the impossibility of you not ever being a Mikaelson?" Kol speared him with a never intimidating narrow eyed glare. "While we're discussing the subject, exactly how are you still counted among the undead? Mikael is ruthless. And he's never purposefully misplaced his mark. Yet there you stand unmolested and with your vampirism still so exasperatingly intact."
"If your incessant prattle is angling at a point can you please endeavor to make it sometime within this decade, Kol?" He questioned only mildly engaged.
A sneer forced the smirk from Kol's over worked mouth. "Precisely, what act did you commit to earn a pardon from my father?" His reprobate of a brother regarded him with a rather telling stare as he nuzzled Bonnie's neck. "The deed must've been colossal if my father stayed your slaying. Particularly with you being who you are to Nik?"
He was loathe to give Kol's covetous rant credence, however, his note of contention was sound. Why would Mikael allow Marcel to seek his leave unharmed?
Bonnie swatted his chest. "Forget it, Toots. Your father is an oozing herpes sore that moves without design or purpose. Damon, however, is a dick we can do something about. The fuck hole just drained half of my damn clientele and he's is about to kill Matt's twisted ass sister. Now I'm all about staying in my own damn lane, but I don't like that shit eating bastard and an L for him warms my fucking heart."
"Curve your taste for blood, darling," Kol muttered as his gaze skipped to the break in the woods. "Salvatore's already fled with his spoils, and for now we'll allow him to slither back under the slimy boulder from which he crept."
"And why is that pray tell?" Niklaus questioned.
Kol reveled in the gory wickedness of bloodletting. Just what in the bloody hell did he think himself up to? And if the avoidance of mayhem wasn't alarm enough the extra gleam in his dung brown eyes thoroughly unsettled him as well.
Bonnie stepped from Kol's embrace. "Marcel's right! For all we know he's probably the psycho who's gnawing his way through half of Mystic Falls' vanilla flavored population."
"Undoubtedly, yet for now he serves my purpose and until he ceases to do so he may gorge himself on the sodding lot of them if it so pleases him." Once again Kol wrapped himself about the little witch and lifted her slight frame into his arms. "Now why don't we misremember those who are not of note," Kol's squinted gaze skipped to him, before reclaiming the little witch's, "and conclude the evening at your residence away from the incessant pandering of my family." Without further word of caution, he zipped away.
Everything in Niklaus' predacious nature required he give chase to retrieve what justly belonged to him. However an unexpected blow to the back drove his borrowed face into a tree trunk as fingernails attempted to penetrate his spine. Taking advantage of Marcel's muscle memory, he reversed positions with his would be assassin.
Mild surprise flirted with his ever intensifying rage. "Ripper?"
"Stay the fuck away from Rebekah," he growled into the bark of the tree.
Niklaus turned him about to consider the younger vampire. His crazed glare held the look of a creature trapped in between obsession and insanity. Blood and saliva dribbled from his extended fangs onto his chin. Rhythmically, it continued to drip onto the front of his already stained t-shirt. Stefan squirmed in his grasp as growls vibrated from his chest. The feral lunatic was completely unhinged.
"Are you still fostering a torch for Rebekah?" He scoffed. "Over eighty years have come and gone, haven't you any hobbies, Ripper?" Didn't he compel the glutinous deviant to forget his baby sister?
"A hundred, no…thousand! A thousand years can get between us and I'll still slaughter time waiting for Rebekah," he actually had the pluck to roar.
"Why the bloody hell would you ever sentence yourself to such a fate? You were no more than a rebound lover for Rebekah." For the love of scheming and maiming, dealing with the endless parade of his sister's conquests had become a rather tedious affair. Especially, when he already found himself faced with long since reconciled issues. He grasped the younger vampire by the nape of his neck and released an unnecessary but very liberating sigh as he spun them in the direction of his cottage. "Well come on, then. Let's see if I can put your infuriating intransigence to use. On the way you can tell me all about this other vampire who carries your name, and then explain to me in meticulous detail his association with Kol Mikaelson."