[ she has a few tricks up her sleeve, she knows the way to play him just as much as he knows how to play her. and yet, his reaction is almost unexpected in its intensity. the way he suddenly surges forward, the way he sounds, the desperation of every thrust. she can feel the tension in his body, the way it matches hers, makes it even more apparent.
she gasps around his finger before she sucks more wildly, teeth grazing against skin as he fucks her harder. he grips her face as he moves, uses his leverage to increase the force of his body. he wants her to feel every inch and she does. dear god, she does. he fills her to the hilt with such a pace that she cannot tell where he ends and she begins, it's cliche and so very true.
he loses control and that is the final push she needs to lose her own. she practically spits out his finger as she moans, her body locking beneath his, tensing as she moans his name, coming hard.]
[ a pitched groan spills from his lips, one strangled feeling her body pressing to his, feeling the intense slide of her skin as she shakes, the endless, maddening clench of her taking his cock. even in the throes of his own pleasure, her own spurs him; it is what he wanted, after all: the end he sought. it is all he knows, every breath she takes, every whimper, the sensitivity of her under his touch. his thumb moves below her chin, he takes her throat in hand as he shudders, taking every bit of her pleasure for his own, leaning his head back to watch with dark, lidded eyes. he lingers with every stroke, feels her merciless tightness, the rubbing of their hips, dizzy with the smell of her, of sweat and sex.
it is only when their bodies slow that he feels the coolness of his exertion drying at his brow, that he claims her pink, moaning mouth for another kiss, open and wet. he hums into her, snakes his arm under her trim waist, and cradles her to him, moves to sit with a burst of quick speed, carrying her to his lap.
his hips moves up into hers, drives himself deep in the new position, coaxing her spent body with his own. his hands rub her hips, reach to palm and squeeze her arse; his teeth bite at her bottom lip. the caresses are slow, persuasive and demanding. he doesn't want to stop, and so they are not stopping ]
[ she is lost to that carnal pleasure for a long few moments, barely aware of the way he clutches at her, his hand her throat, his arm around her torso. she simply rides out the waves of pleasure, selfishly, her hips quirking a few more times before she stills beneath him, panting.
her eyes only open when she is whisked into a different position. her gaze landing squarely on his face as he grinds his hips up into hers, as she is suddenly perched in his lap. Her hands find his face as he presses back inside of her, trying to keep things going despite his body's waning efforts. She has no doubts he'll recover soon enough, he seems to have the stamina of ten men. As it is, she does not need to be persuaded, as breathless and satisfied as she is. She simply dips in to kiss him once more, after he bites at her bottom lip.]
[ he is, sated and still wanting, chin tipped up to have her kiss, to seek it out hungrily, even as she murmurs her peace. he exhales, the sound a long, impatient warning, watching the dimple of her cheeks, the soft gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. yes, his desire waxes even as it wanes; he holds her bottom with clutching fingers, rolls her hips over him, thrusts into her for the forced, guided friction.
surely she didn't think once would be enough, and his eyes are molten with the intention, the want of more. he gazes up at her, appreciates her bare and stunning and tangled with him. and for that he is insatiable, never content. his hips still for the moment and he adores, longs, consumes: the mess of her golden hair, rich yellows and browns in the fading light, the stark, dark blue of her eyes in the shadows, the flushed and happy red in her cheeks. he enjoys touching her, his fingers contouring to her curves, moving up her back. ] You're beautiful. [ he says it as a truth, as a reason, as a hunger. ]
You're impossible, [ she counters at the tail end of poorly suppressed moan, her eyes fluttering as he kneads at her backside with the impatience of man with hundreds of years less experience than he. she likes it. the honesty in everything he does, the way he does not hide his desire or make her work for it now that she has his attention.
the chase may be fun but the capture is proving to be more pleasurable.
the look in his eyes make it hard for her own gaze to linger upon them, it makes her shiver, the way he looks at her with such continued hunger. she smiles at him, her eyes lowering to his lips, her own expression a hungry one as her fingers curl at the back of his head. her body is still humming, pulsating from her climax, yet she cannot help but shift in his lap as a challenge, to see if she is beautiful enough to rouse him once again.]
[ he sees it; he feels it, how she soaks his attentions up, how she enjoys them as she always has. it is free, how she does now, despite her ducking eyes. he is the one submissive to her pleasure, to that shiver, absorbing it all with wonder, gratified and intent, in tune to the beauty of her every move. it makes him feel an answering, delicious prickle at the base of his spine, one that only lengthens at the brush of her fingers, combed through his hair.
he cherishes her smile, the way she moves to take what he can give her, to challenge what he knows she will have. he feels a weakness in his thighs, a tremor of pleasure as his breath catches inaudibly in his throat. the light in his eyes melts; his touch caresses her waist. he is still hard, seated inside of her, lingering, lazed in his pleasure. it is only at her shifting that he feels the flicker of exertion of it, the stamina he will find around the corner. his hips lift and relax, slow and gentle, to pull her errant movements into a rhythm, one which draws his eyes to where they are joined.
to the paleness of her thighs which he touches with fingertips, the plush smoothness of her stomach he feels, the rose of her nipples he brushes in a deliberate graze.
she can rouse him; she does. in more ways than one, in more ways than she seeks. his voice is low, breathy. ] You're incredible.
You have to stop doing that. [ she murmurs with a smile against his lips, breathless and sweeter than someone with his track record may deserve. although it is not the way he touches her nor is it the way he starts a slow, lazy rhythm beneath her. it is the way he dotes on her, tells her that she's incredible.
she shifts above him, pulling back now. her hand falls behind her to rest on his thigh, fingers curling a little as she grinds slowly above him, giving him full view of her body. perhaps that will distract him from saying things that make her heart skip a beat or two.
as it is, she uses her other hand to slide up her own body, touching herself as much as giving him a show.]
[ he will not stop, and moreover he doesn't believe she wants him to stop. not truly, not fully, not in the depths of her desires, he wants her so fully it blinds him, but he is not so blind to misunderstand. she finds pleasure, heat, and pause in his attentions, his doting, his adoring honesties. he knows how they stir, and he knows how keenly he feels them, how deliberate and real they are. how rawly they can injure.
his eyes lift to hers, feeling her breath, her reply, wanting to see the curve of her smile. it is sweet, sweet and mesmerizing, fluttering something in his chest. his lips part as she pulls back from him, finds her balance. he knows. lord, he knows, just how deftly she means to conquer him, and still his body shakes against hers, his cock thickening and body filling with the roaring of his pulse, watching her hand map all the skin he covets, the touches he longs to take. ones he wants to be rightfully his.
he shifts too, dizzy, his hands gripping her waist tight with a soft growl, his cock pressing deep into her to savor the torture of her movements, letting her feel the results of her show. his knees feel weak as he slowly chases her hand, detours in circles over her skin, leans forward. ] And what would you have me do more of?
[ she doesn't want to feel anything so keenly with him. perhaps that is an unfair sentiment but the things he has done in the past still haunt her thoughts. the despair he's provided those she truly cares about, to herself. he would have had her sacrificed if things had been different.
it is something her brain insists on rehashing each time she feels her heart race at his doting words, when he makes her come. which only makes the pleasure perverse in nature, the way she continually seeks him out. she struggles with it but she does not allow herself to feel regret for her decisions even if she ought to.
she conquers him, she tries. she means to change him bit by bit. perhaps that is her penance. perhaps that is how she can make it right in the end. yet he is as immovable as any mountain. volatile as any volcano. she is lost in truly trying to bring him into the light she basks in, completely. can she really give him redemption when he may not even want it?
he grips at her, worships at her alter, pressing into her even deeper as she makes her move. as she tortures him with a view of her body and grinding of her hips. his hand seeks to touch her and he asks what she wants. her eyes meet with his and she simply smirks, giving him half a shrug with a teasing indifference they both is not sincere.]
[ he did not lie before: he has very little regrets, and he would bear little surprise at the caution and reminders she recounts to herself, whether he agreed with their importance and accuracy or not. but he cannot be changed. no. not the way she seeks, not with her goodness and light, not with her heart; not because she wishes it to justify how he makes her heart speed, how she finds the vastness of time and so many possibilities in his offers.
not like that. so he tells himself; so he believes he knows, bone-deep. (what he knows, bone-deep, is he is already changed. he has always been a man who feels.) she touched him. something of her lodged in his heart, his being, his breath.
he may have been unmovable, before new orleans, before his child, but he has never been unaffected.
he is not now. he is affected by their murmurs, by the heat of her body, the intimacy and allure of her. she smiles so wickedly, tests and teases his patience so maddeningly. his lips curl in a like smile and his hand suddenly grips the underside of her chin, pulling her forward to touch the breath of his words to her lips. ] Tell me. [ it's an order, slow and uncompromising; a supplication, wanting and longing, spoken as his thumb slips down between her legs, slides over wet skin to her swollen clitoris. he rubs, attends to the sensitive nerves mercilessly, quick. ] Do you want this? Hm? My fingers? My mouth? My cock? [ he pauses, watches her. ] All of it?
[ despite how it may seem, her heart is not so easily given. he will have to earn the admission of any such feelings, even if he can hear the way her heart races, she can deny it as much as she wants. it is until she can accept her slow embrace of the darker side of herself, that he has to wait. the wait could be endless.
she knows him to be unmoveable but she also knows that he feels just as, if not more so, keenly as she does. she feels the desire radiate off of him as she doesn't give him an answer. at least nothing verbal. and of course, the tease will not stand untested. he pulls her back towards him, her hands moving to brace on his chest instinctively as her eyes meet with his as he makes his demands.
her lips curve downward just a little, petulant and childish, as if he should know what she wants. as if she doesn't want to tell him what she wants, when it should be so obvious to him by now. still, the expression is fleeting because a moment later his thumb is at the sensitive bundle of nerves, making her gasp and hum eagerly. her eyes flutter and struggle to stay with his as she swallows thickly.
his fingers coax pleasure to rush through her, the touch torturous given how sensitive she still feels. yet she's still hungry for it.] You know what I want, [ she hums softly, her gaze upon his still as she shifts closer to him.] You know what I came here for.
[ does he? does he truly know why she's here? for comfort, yes. maybe even for him. (for bonnie.) for the blindness of this, maybe even for the desires she wraps up and shields from all else who may gaze upon her. but for all he knows her, he knows he does not hold her heart. all her denial, all her rejection has created around the organ a fortress he can only wonder if he can reach; he can only feel the bliss of when she gives him a sliver of encouragement.
she has boarded up the softest corners, the most precious parts, and perhaps she will never mean for him to have them. (despite his promise, despite his wish: to be her last.) that is fine, for he does not need them to want her, and she does not need them to be here, with him.
no, she simply needs the want of it, the perversity, the desire she considers obscene. there is no difference to him; what he wants is pure. and she is here, restless and needy against him, moaning and eager against his touch, seeking and abiding by it. it is what he wanted, her body to tense and uncoil, to feel her wet his cock further. he watches her fluttering lashes, feels the bubbling of excitement from her lingering pout. the slow smile of it is in his eyes, and his grip clenches around her neck, pulls her to him as he slides down into his seat, all the better to find leverage.
he fucks her, suddenly hard, quick, and keeps her in place to watch her face as she takes him, his thumb restless against her. the slap on their skin fills the room, and so does his hummed exhale. ]
[ she finds excitement in things she didn't know she could find exciting, in the way his fingers curl around her neck, in the way he holds her into place as he fucks her, despite her being on top of him. he rocks up into her without any sort of mercy, relentless in the pursuit of pleasure, be it his or hers.
the sounds that fall from her parted lips are almost pornographic, their frequency and volume. it's a series of gasps, hums, and low moans, between excited panting breaths, her eyes fluttering as the sounds of their bodies colliding and her thundering pulse fill her ears.
ever since she turned, this is how she's preferred things. a rough fuck. tenderness is sweet and sometimes something slow is what she desires but there's an appeal to being reminded what she is now. unbreakable. and she is greedy for it. her hands grab at him, unable to hold still, roaming over his skin, just touching, pulling at his hair and shoulders. and the more he gives her what she wants without judgement, the more she feels those walls weakening.
she fights it now, one hand moving to his at her throat, fingers curling around his wrist as she presses herself into his hold and starts to move roughly above him, seeking more, rougher, faster. this needs to be just fucking, this can't be anything else. not yet.]
[ it is all for her, every relentless thrust, every caress of his thumb, pressed and rubbed expertly of over. he takes from it the satisfaction she gives him, and the rush of power and lust and servitude it evokes, the three tying inextricably together, all for her. the touch of her soft hands soothe and awaken him, the sounds she makes gorgeous, exquisite; the friction of taking her enough to weaken his knees. he could come, hearing her whimpers, feeling her so wanting and wet. feeling the fight in her to take as much as he gives. he groans as she does, their rhythm becoming one, adjusts with such overwhelming zeal to her liking.
he can do better. the words stir him in just the way she seeks, burning with a flash of heat, a slide of it down his neck, his chest, alighting over the places she's touched, marked, pulsing up through his cock as she rides it, harsh and quick, so tight and soft. there is no warning, only the rough grab of her neck and her hair, the yank as he pulls her head back, and in a second's count has her thrown face down on his bed, the sheet rumpled under the force, her legs dangling over the edge.
he doesn't wait for her to adjust, only moves her enough to bury himself deep and fucks her harder, tugging her head back by her hair to keep her still, to keep her braced, and so he can lean over to murmur: ] You tell me when it's enough.
[ it's lurid like one of those pornos that she dared to watch a long time ago, the way she's bent over his bed suddenly, the way he pulls her back against him with her hair. she never got a proper tour of his apartment, so she has no idea how far they travelled in that unexpected instant. but she barely has time to register what is happening before he's inside of her again, thrusting harder, with better leverage, her body bouncing against his.
her arms slide forward to grip the sheets beneath her, to brace herself, to keep from sliding forward as her toes curl against the floor. she gasps and moans as an answer to his demand. it's enough, this is enough, she thinks. it's more than enough. she doesn't waver in her enjoyment, she simply allows herself to get lost in the ride, in the pleasure that races through her now, coaxing heat through her veins.
her eyes close with another soft sound, as she grinds against him, rocks backward into his body's movements, trying to coax that same pleasure through him.]
[ she need not try very hard to please him: the sounds she makes, the wordless, incredible gasps as she finds her leverage and moves into his thrusts in more than enough to make him groan, to make his knees weak, his weight to lean against her. a hand braces himself on the bed; his wrist twists, pulls her head back further, keeps her at his mercy. the scruff of his beard brushes against the soft skin of her forehead, her hair; he touches his lips there, and he can just see the bounce of her pert breasts from the rocking of their bodies.
it is lurid, and beautiful: the way she bends to his hands, the way she hungers at it. he wants it, the press of her arse against his front, the movement of her hips beckoning him deeper. he growls softly, leaning to her, grinding inside of her over and over, faster and harder, the sounds he makes approving, his eyes lidded and watching the profile of her face, watching her pleasure. his hum is one of approval, his face hot, his grip weigh of head back. ]
[ he takes more, the moment she gives him the encouragement of her hips. he leans over her, he pulls harder at her hair as the sounds of their thighs colliding and panting breaths fill the air. for a long moment, she is simply lost in the slide of his body into hers, his cock filling her to the hilt with every grind of their bodies, her body practically vibrating around his with the force of his thrusts.
her hands move restlessly over the bedspread, gripping and pulling, tugging for leverage, fingers curling with pleasure as her head turns just a little, her eyes catching sight of what is to her left. it is then she sees them in their full glory reflected in a mirror. it should disturb her, to see klaus mikaelson deep inside of her from behind, the man who caused so much sorrow, the two of them rutting like animals so impassioned and hungry. but instead she moans desperately, surprised by the jolt of excitement that runs up her spine upon seeing them there.
she watches with a distracted fascination, the sight feeding into the heat she feels, watching the bounce of her breasts, the sway of her body as he rocks into her, the wild look of both of their hair. gasping something about god, her eyes flutter and she bites back another moan so soon after the first as she tries to fight the hold he has on her hair a little, arching off the bed a little rocking against the mattress with his movements.]
[ he is too in tune to her not to notice, too intent, too watchful. he feels every rut of her hips like a lure, hears every hitched breath dousing him, the pitch of each as he thrusts into her, taking and giving of the friction that is making her tremble and moan, that makes him tremble and moan, roughen with each roll of his hips. they are seamless, the sound of their skin colliding muting as his hips rub against her. his own groans spill from his lips, low rumbles that follow hers, and when his eyes follow the focus of hers to the mirror, something primal and wicked posses him. (is this what she likes, he thinks -
he likes it; he likes her against him, on him, and) she is a mess, her hair clenched in his grasp, her body needy for his, her eyes glassy and anguished with pleasure, pink skin balmy with a sheen of sweat. it is instinctive as she struggles a moment later: he lets her go, gives her the freedom she seeks, only to shove her flush against the bed, a steel grip around her neck. his thighs push against hers; he slides her deeper onto the bed and follows; each movement a jerk of speed.
there is just the pulse of his heart, the tightness of her around his cock, the golden crown of her hair his eyes find and do not stray from. his fingers reach to slide between the cheeks of her arse, so wet as his thumb rubs, circles, tests the entrance as it presses down. he strokes the softness of the yellow strands damp against her back before reaching beneath her, finding her clitoris to caress. there is nothing merciful about his touches; he means to make her come, to force it from her, to overwhelm every nerve, even as he teases her with deep, rough, rolling thrusts, the heat rising in his cheeks.
[ he grants her no relief from her climbing pleasure, from the pleasure that blooms from her previous orgasm (and the one before that). he is well on his way to sending her into her third and fourth. she is practically salivating from it, her fingers threatening to tear his bedspread to shreds, and maybe they would have if he hadn't caught her by surprise as he does, so distracted by the reflection of their bodies in the mirror.
suddenly she's shoved against the bed even more, pressed forward while he joins her, the speed of his movement making his thrust even harder than before. she gasps with an unfettered sort of delight, momentarily shocked from her admiring gaze in the mirror. her forehead presses to the bed as she pants his name only to gasp again when his thumb moves to slide against a forbidden spot, one that is rarely touched and yet... it makes her moan, makes her clench around him tightly. and it seems he set on making her writhe and gasp until she knows no other course of action.
her head tilts once more towards the mirror, unable to help but look, gasping at the sight before her. his arm wrapped around her as he touches the bundle of nerves, his other hand pressed between her cheeks that seem to bounce with every thrust he makes.
it is all too much, seeing it, feeling it. heat courses through her veins at an alarming rate, making her head spin, making her eyes fall shut with a long, low moan. it's then that she comes, with his name on unabashedly on his lips.]
[ yes. it is the summation of all he sees, all he hears, all he feels. he watches her begin to unravel, feels the unsteadiness in her, the tremors that vibrate into his frame. he feels her tighten at his touch, at the boldness of his caress, feels it down to his knees. he pushes her further, because she is perfectly close, maddeningly ripe for it amongst all her moans and gasps, the panting of his name.
he likes how it sounds, so lost in her pleasure, touching him like a physical caress. his. it's his name she intones, his name she calls as she comes, soft and wet and rutting against his thrusts. he nearly folds over her in the ensuing bliss, the clench of her body and the easy way he slides into her nearly too much to take. he feels her coming, his eyes trained, his lips parted as her pleasure reverberates through him, dizzies him with heat that possesses him, renders him useless to all else but her. all else but touching her, fucking her.
he does not realize he is grunting, soft and greedy, with each rock of his cock inside her, not until she is well and truly sated.
yes, he thinks. good. it is what he wanted: her flushed and completed and beautiful.) and he pushes her off his rigid cock to the ruined, mussed sheets with a shove, turns her to her back just as easily. his eyes are dark and longing, stirred despite their steadiness, his breath long and heavy as he takes her hands to stretch out above her head as he stretches out atop her. he takes her lips; he tastes the sweetness of them but once, hovering over her; lashes fluttering as black pupils watch her gaze. he rocks his hips in a strong, nearly painful effort to be inside of her. their bodies collide and he is buried deep, the groan against her lips tapered by the slow, unforgiving force of his next thrust. ]
[ she is lost now. gone is any hope of recovering from this, from pretending that she didn't completely lose herself to the pleasure his body provides. she could claim it's purely physical but that would be a lie, one he'd see right through given the way he's able to push her to her limits.
she doesn't watch herself come, her eyes clench shut when the tidal wave of pleasure sweeps her under. she is helpless to do anything but ride out that wave, her fingers clutching at the sheets beneath her, a dizzying amount of ectasty take hold. and when she finally comes out the other side of it, she's rendered, almost like he is, useless to anything else but his pleasure now.
she can barely move beyond trembling, she doesn't even fight or tense when he pulls himself from her body to roll her over. she sees the darkness in his eyes and knows that it's reflected in hers, that desire, that want, it's still there even after getting her pleasure for the... whatever time. she's lost count how many times she's come now, even if she was counting them merely seconds before. she barely has time to react before he's back to pinning her to the bed in a different fashion, her eyes fluttering open to look at him as he finds his way home, thrusting back into her over-sensitive body.
gasping against his lips, she winces the way it makes her pulsating skin feel, even then, her reaction isn't one to tell him to stop. she is wrecked, a panting, sated mess, her legs flexing, moving so that her feet lay flat on the bed, knees shifting upward as he settles between her thighs. her eyes stay on his for now, almost pleading for him to find his completion, as if she isn't sure she can take much more but knowing that her body is built for this and more.]
[ it was for her, all the pleasure he's given, but that look in her eyes is for him, what has him wanting for nothing and everything more. his fingers splay hers out, each of his pressing along the lengths along hers, the tips against her fingerprints. she is a pool of desire, of flashing longings, the base, pure connection forged between them living and wrought as he takes her in. making his heart beat as his fingers weave with hers, and tighten to clasp.
she is a pool and a pillar both, the one solid thing in this storm they drown in. he fucks her to feed the pulsing of his torturous desire, on the edge always of kissing her pretty, bruised lips so close to his own. he wants to come, his stomach pressing to hers as he strokes into her, the cool dampness of their sweat and coming sticky between them. he wants to come, but more than that, he wants that look in her eyes to last. and it is that reason he cannot though his thighs shake; they tremble as he finds a broken rhythm, gasping quietly, slow and grinding; never enough.
his lips touch her cheek, press a soft kiss there as his body melts against hers, seamlessly rocks. ]
[ Insatiable is the only word that comes to mind now, when she tries to think of how to describe him in this moment. Ruthless and formidable come through next. an unstoppable, hungry force. he keeps moving within her as he tangles their fingers so intimately together.
her eyes flutter at the slide of their fingers as much as they do at the slide of their bodies, uneven and unsteady as the thrusts of his hips are. she shifts beneath him, doing what she can even as she grows sexhausted (that's right sexhausted) beneath him, trying to coax him into the same pleasure she's feeling, to drive him over that edge that he's pushed her over too many times.
her fingers tighten over his, pushing up at his hands, pulling them more over her head as she speaks, tilting her head to force his back towards hers, to push his lips away from her cheeks so that her gaze burn into his.] Let go, Klaus. [ of whatever he's holding on to, she urges him to let go of the resistance to fall and just fall.]
[ it's formidable, such a request, striking deep and sure. even as her body stretches beneath his, curves into his like a cat. it makes his cock ache, his panting breath to quicken, his thrusts to harshen just so; it meet her, to take what she offers. and he cannot think of it: the sweet brush of her lips against his face as she searches for him, the reassurance of her squeezing grasp that makes his pulse start and his cock to throb painfully at the intimacy for more reasons than one, the searing look in her eyes that catches him, that piercing blue and darkest black. and the deepness of what she asks, the vulnerabilities it would incur, to let go of what he truly holds onto: her. his heart, for her. for anyone.
and yet it means nothing, none of it. it means everything as he strokes into her quicker now, pointed with each pinning caress of his body, roused and excited and ravenous. he keeps her eyes with the darkness in his own, releases one of her hands to hold her face.
soft sounds barely leave his throat. his thumb touches the tip of her chin, and his lashes barely flutter low as he barely kisses her, soft and unpressed and chaste. his tongue gently touches her top lip, the bed rocking thunderously under them. it's waves of pleasure, building and shaking him, trembling his fingers, his hand at her face. it's violence, lust, and softness. his hold flexes, finds her throat for something to steady him, to keep her gaze on his as the first grunt spills from his lips. ]
[ she wouldn't look away from him now even if he wasn't forcing her gaze. she doesn't want to miss the way he looks now, now that he's doing as she bids him to, a plea and command both. she wants to see him unravel as he's seen her do so many times, those pools of blue focused keenly on his, darker and more wild. his hand leaves hers free to move, and it does, moving to clutch at his chest, over his heart.
if she could only touch him there. truly touch his heart, make him less of who he is, who he forces himself to become because of paranoia, a centuries worth of hurt and anger. if only he sought redemption like she did, like stefan. she can't be his redemption when he doesn't even want it. it stings, to think that he's more like damon, the sort to do anything to protect his interests ( his main interest being power and his family). anything but give into the lightness that might be hidden in the darkest corners of his heart, waiting to be freed.
her fingers splay out against his skin, laying flat as his fingers find her throat, cutting off some of the air to her lungs, making her gasp, hitting her with enough pleasure that her body trembles around his, quivers and quakes, every one of those descriptive words that you read in dime store novels. she swoons and melts, she pants against his lips as he strokes inside of her with a merciless frenzy, doing as he's been bade to do, losing himself inside of her, so close to what she actually wants and yet so impossibly far.]
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she gasps around his finger before she sucks more wildly, teeth grazing against skin as he fucks her harder. he grips her face as he moves, uses his leverage to increase the force of his body. he wants her to feel every inch and she does. dear god, she does. he fills her to the hilt with such a pace that she cannot tell where he ends and she begins, it's cliche and so very true.
he loses control and that is the final push she needs to lose her own. she practically spits out his finger as she moans, her body locking beneath his, tensing as she moans his name, coming hard.]
no subject
it is only when their bodies slow that he feels the coolness of his exertion drying at his brow, that he claims her pink, moaning mouth for another kiss, open and wet. he hums into her, snakes his arm under her trim waist, and cradles her to him, moves to sit with a burst of quick speed, carrying her to his lap.
his hips moves up into hers, drives himself deep in the new position, coaxing her spent body with his own. his hands rub her hips, reach to palm and squeeze her arse; his teeth bite at her bottom lip. the caresses are slow, persuasive and demanding. he doesn't want to stop, and so they are not stopping ]
no subject
her eyes only open when she is whisked into a different position. her gaze landing squarely on his face as he grinds his hips up into hers, as she is suddenly perched in his lap. Her hands find his face as he presses back inside of her, trying to keep things going despite his body's waning efforts. She has no doubts he'll recover soon enough, he seems to have the stamina of ten men. As it is, she does not need to be persuaded, as breathless and satisfied as she is. She simply dips in to kiss him once more, after he bites at her bottom lip.]
You're insatiable.
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surely she didn't think once would be enough, and his eyes are molten with the intention, the want of more. he gazes up at her, appreciates her bare and stunning and tangled with him. and for that he is insatiable, never content. his hips still for the moment and he adores, longs, consumes: the mess of her golden hair, rich yellows and browns in the fading light, the stark, dark blue of her eyes in the shadows, the flushed and happy red in her cheeks. he enjoys touching her, his fingers contouring to her curves, moving up her back. ] You're beautiful. [ he says it as a truth, as a reason, as a hunger. ]
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the chase may be fun but the capture is proving to be more pleasurable.
the look in his eyes make it hard for her own gaze to linger upon them, it makes her shiver, the way he looks at her with such continued hunger. she smiles at him, her eyes lowering to his lips, her own expression a hungry one as her fingers curl at the back of his head. her body is still humming, pulsating from her climax, yet she cannot help but shift in his lap as a challenge, to see if she is beautiful enough to rouse him once again.]
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he cherishes her smile, the way she moves to take what he can give her, to challenge what he knows she will have. he feels a weakness in his thighs, a tremor of pleasure as his breath catches inaudibly in his throat. the light in his eyes melts; his touch caresses her waist. he is still hard, seated inside of her, lingering, lazed in his pleasure. it is only at her shifting that he feels the flicker of exertion of it, the stamina he will find around the corner. his hips lift and relax, slow and gentle, to pull her errant movements into a rhythm, one which draws his eyes to where they are joined.
to the paleness of her thighs which he touches with fingertips, the plush smoothness of her stomach he feels, the rose of her nipples he brushes in a deliberate graze.
she can rouse him; she does. in more ways than one, in more ways than she seeks. his voice is low, breathy. ] You're incredible.
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she shifts above him, pulling back now. her hand falls behind her to rest on his thigh, fingers curling a little as she grinds slowly above him, giving him full view of her body. perhaps that will distract him from saying things that make her heart skip a beat or two.
as it is, she uses her other hand to slide up her own body, touching herself as much as giving him a show.]
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his eyes lift to hers, feeling her breath, her reply, wanting to see the curve of her smile. it is sweet, sweet and mesmerizing, fluttering something in his chest. his lips part as she pulls back from him, finds her balance. he knows. lord, he knows, just how deftly she means to conquer him, and still his body shakes against hers, his cock thickening and body filling with the roaring of his pulse, watching her hand map all the skin he covets, the touches he longs to take. ones he wants to be rightfully his.
he shifts too, dizzy, his hands gripping her waist tight with a soft growl, his cock pressing deep into her to savor the torture of her movements, letting her feel the results of her show. his knees feel weak as he slowly chases her hand, detours in circles over her skin, leans forward. ] And what would you have me do more of?
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it is something her brain insists on rehashing each time she feels her heart race at his doting words, when he makes her come. which only makes the pleasure perverse in nature, the way she continually seeks him out. she struggles with it but she does not allow herself to feel regret for her decisions even if she ought to.
she conquers him, she tries. she means to change him bit by bit. perhaps that is her penance. perhaps that is how she can make it right in the end. yet he is as immovable as any mountain. volatile as any volcano. she is lost in truly trying to bring him into the light she basks in, completely. can she really give him redemption when he may not even want it?
he grips at her, worships at her alter, pressing into her even deeper as she makes her move. as she tortures him with a view of her body and grinding of her hips. his hand seeks to touch her and he asks what she wants. her eyes meet with his and she simply smirks, giving him half a shrug with a teasing indifference they both is not sincere.]
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not like that. so he tells himself; so he believes he knows, bone-deep. (what he knows, bone-deep, is he is already changed. he has always been a man who feels.) she touched him. something of her lodged in his heart, his being, his breath.
he may have been unmovable, before new orleans, before his child, but he has never been unaffected.
he is not now. he is affected by their murmurs, by the heat of her body, the intimacy and allure of her. she smiles so wickedly, tests and teases his patience so maddeningly. his lips curl in a like smile and his hand suddenly grips the underside of her chin, pulling her forward to touch the breath of his words to her lips. ] Tell me. [ it's an order, slow and uncompromising; a supplication, wanting and longing, spoken as his thumb slips down between her legs, slides over wet skin to her swollen clitoris. he rubs, attends to the sensitive nerves mercilessly, quick. ] Do you want this? Hm? My fingers? My mouth? My cock? [ he pauses, watches her. ] All of it?
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she knows him to be unmoveable but she also knows that he feels just as, if not more so, keenly as she does. she feels the desire radiate off of him as she doesn't give him an answer. at least nothing verbal. and of course, the tease will not stand untested. he pulls her back towards him, her hands moving to brace on his chest instinctively as her eyes meet with his as he makes his demands.
her lips curve downward just a little, petulant and childish, as if he should know what she wants. as if she doesn't want to tell him what she wants, when it should be so obvious to him by now. still, the expression is fleeting because a moment later his thumb is at the sensitive bundle of nerves, making her gasp and hum eagerly. her eyes flutter and struggle to stay with his as she swallows thickly.
his fingers coax pleasure to rush through her, the touch torturous given how sensitive she still feels. yet she's still hungry for it.] You know what I want, [ she hums softly, her gaze upon his still as she shifts closer to him.] You know what I came here for.
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she has boarded up the softest corners, the most precious parts, and perhaps she will never mean for him to have them. (despite his promise, despite his wish: to be her last.) that is fine, for he does not need them to want her, and she does not need them to be here, with him.
no, she simply needs the want of it, the perversity, the desire she considers obscene. there is no difference to him; what he wants is pure. and she is here, restless and needy against him, moaning and eager against his touch, seeking and abiding by it. it is what he wanted, her body to tense and uncoil, to feel her wet his cock further. he watches her fluttering lashes, feels the bubbling of excitement from her lingering pout. the slow smile of it is in his eyes, and his grip clenches around her neck, pulls her to him as he slides down into his seat, all the better to find leverage.
he fucks her, suddenly hard, quick, and keeps her in place to watch her face as she takes him, his thumb restless against her. the slap on their skin fills the room, and so does his hummed exhale. ]
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the sounds that fall from her parted lips are almost pornographic, their frequency and volume. it's a series of gasps, hums, and low moans, between excited panting breaths, her eyes fluttering as the sounds of their bodies colliding and her thundering pulse fill her ears.
ever since she turned, this is how she's preferred things. a rough fuck. tenderness is sweet and sometimes something slow is what she desires but there's an appeal to being reminded what she is now. unbreakable. and she is greedy for it. her hands grab at him, unable to hold still, roaming over his skin, just touching, pulling at his hair and shoulders. and the more he gives her what she wants without judgement, the more she feels those walls weakening.
she fights it now, one hand moving to his at her throat, fingers curling around his wrist as she presses herself into his hold and starts to move roughly above him, seeking more, rougher, faster. this needs to be just fucking, this can't be anything else.
not yet.]You can... do better than that.
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he can do better. the words stir him in just the way she seeks, burning with a flash of heat, a slide of it down his neck, his chest, alighting over the places she's touched, marked, pulsing up through his cock as she rides it, harsh and quick, so tight and soft. there is no warning, only the rough grab of her neck and her hair, the yank as he pulls her head back, and in a second's count has her thrown face down on his bed, the sheet rumpled under the force, her legs dangling over the edge.
he doesn't wait for her to adjust, only moves her enough to bury himself deep and fucks her harder, tugging her head back by her hair to keep her still, to keep her braced, and so he can lean over to murmur: ] You tell me when it's enough.
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her arms slide forward to grip the sheets beneath her, to brace herself, to keep from sliding forward as her toes curl against the floor. she gasps and moans as an answer to his demand. it's enough, this is enough, she thinks. it's more than enough. she doesn't waver in her enjoyment, she simply allows herself to get lost in the ride, in the pleasure that races through her now, coaxing heat through her veins.
her eyes close with another soft sound, as she grinds against him, rocks backward into his body's movements, trying to coax that same pleasure through him.]
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it is lurid, and beautiful: the way she bends to his hands, the way she hungers at it. he wants it, the press of her arse against his front, the movement of her hips beckoning him deeper. he growls softly, leaning to her, grinding inside of her over and over, faster and harder, the sounds he makes approving, his eyes lidded and watching the profile of her face, watching her pleasure. his hum is one of approval, his face hot, his grip weigh of head back. ]
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her hands move restlessly over the bedspread, gripping and pulling, tugging for leverage, fingers curling with pleasure as her head turns just a little, her eyes catching sight of what is to her left. it is then she sees them in their full glory reflected in a mirror. it should disturb her, to see klaus mikaelson deep inside of her from behind, the man who caused so much sorrow, the two of them rutting like animals so impassioned and hungry. but instead she moans desperately, surprised by the jolt of excitement that runs up her spine upon seeing them there.
she watches with a distracted fascination, the sight feeding into the heat she feels, watching the bounce of her breasts, the sway of her body as he rocks into her, the wild look of both of their hair. gasping something about god, her eyes flutter and she bites back another moan so soon after the first as she tries to fight the hold he has on her hair a little, arching off the bed a little rocking against the mattress with his movements.]
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he likes it; he likes her against him, on him, and) she is a mess, her hair clenched in his grasp, her body needy for his, her eyes glassy and anguished with pleasure, pink skin balmy with a sheen of sweat. it is instinctive as she struggles a moment later: he lets her go, gives her the freedom she seeks, only to shove her flush against the bed, a steel grip around her neck. his thighs push against hers; he slides her deeper onto the bed and follows; each movement a jerk of speed.
there is just the pulse of his heart, the tightness of her around his cock, the golden crown of her hair his eyes find and do not stray from. his fingers reach to slide between the cheeks of her arse, so wet as his thumb rubs, circles, tests the entrance as it presses down. he strokes the softness of the yellow strands damp against her back before reaching beneath her, finding her clitoris to caress. there is nothing merciful about his touches; he means to make her come, to force it from her, to overwhelm every nerve, even as he teases her with deep, rough, rolling thrusts, the heat rising in his cheeks.
he will give her a show. ]
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suddenly she's shoved against the bed even more, pressed forward while he joins her, the speed of his movement making his thrust even harder than before. she gasps with an unfettered sort of delight, momentarily shocked from her admiring gaze in the mirror. her forehead presses to the bed as she pants his name only to gasp again when his thumb moves to slide against a forbidden spot, one that is rarely touched and yet... it makes her moan, makes her clench around him tightly. and it seems he set on making her writhe and gasp until she knows no other course of action.
her head tilts once more towards the mirror, unable to help but look, gasping at the sight before her. his arm wrapped around her as he touches the bundle of nerves, his other hand pressed between her cheeks that seem to bounce with every thrust he makes.
it is all too much, seeing it, feeling it. heat courses through her veins at an alarming rate, making her head spin, making her eyes fall shut with a long, low moan. it's then that she comes, with his name on unabashedly on his lips.]
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he likes how it sounds, so lost in her pleasure, touching him like a physical caress. his. it's his name she intones, his name she calls as she comes, soft and wet and rutting against his thrusts. he nearly folds over her in the ensuing bliss, the clench of her body and the easy way he slides into her nearly too much to take. he feels her coming, his eyes trained, his lips parted as her pleasure reverberates through him, dizzies him with heat that possesses him, renders him useless to all else but her. all else but touching her, fucking her.
he does not realize he is grunting, soft and greedy, with each rock of his cock inside her, not until she is well and truly sated.
yes, he thinks. good. it is what he wanted: her flushed and completed and beautiful.) and he pushes her off his rigid cock to the ruined, mussed sheets with a shove, turns her to her back just as easily. his eyes are dark and longing, stirred despite their steadiness, his breath long and heavy as he takes her hands to stretch out above her head as he stretches out atop her. he takes her lips; he tastes the sweetness of them but once, hovering over her; lashes fluttering as black pupils watch her gaze. he rocks his hips in a strong, nearly painful effort to be inside of her. their bodies collide and he is buried deep, the groan against her lips tapered by the slow, unforgiving force of his next thrust. ]
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she doesn't watch herself come, her eyes clench shut when the tidal wave of pleasure sweeps her under. she is helpless to do anything but ride out that wave, her fingers clutching at the sheets beneath her, a dizzying amount of ectasty take hold. and when she finally comes out the other side of it, she's rendered, almost like he is, useless to anything else but his pleasure now.
she can barely move beyond trembling, she doesn't even fight or tense when he pulls himself from her body to roll her over. she sees the darkness in his eyes and knows that it's reflected in hers, that desire, that want, it's still there even after getting her pleasure for the... whatever time. she's lost count how many times she's come now, even if she was counting them merely seconds before. she barely has time to react before he's back to pinning her to the bed in a different fashion, her eyes fluttering open to look at him as he finds his way home, thrusting back into her over-sensitive body.
gasping against his lips, she winces the way it makes her pulsating skin feel, even then, her reaction isn't one to tell him to stop. she is wrecked, a panting, sated mess, her legs flexing, moving so that her feet lay flat on the bed, knees shifting upward as he settles between her thighs. her eyes stay on his for now, almost pleading for him to find his completion, as if she isn't sure she can take much more but knowing that her body is built for this and more.]
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she is a pool and a pillar both, the one solid thing in this storm they drown in. he fucks her to feed the pulsing of his torturous desire, on the edge always of kissing her pretty, bruised lips so close to his own. he wants to come, his stomach pressing to hers as he strokes into her, the cool dampness of their sweat and coming sticky between them. he wants to come, but more than that, he wants that look in her eyes to last. and it is that reason he cannot though his thighs shake; they tremble as he finds a broken rhythm, gasping quietly, slow and grinding; never enough.
his lips touch her cheek, press a soft kiss there as his body melts against hers, seamlessly rocks. ]
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her eyes flutter at the slide of their fingers as much as they do at the slide of their bodies, uneven and unsteady as the thrusts of his hips are. she shifts beneath him, doing what she can even as she grows sexhausted (that's right sexhausted) beneath him, trying to coax him into the same pleasure she's feeling, to drive him over that edge that he's pushed her over too many times.
her fingers tighten over his, pushing up at his hands, pulling them more over her head as she speaks, tilting her head to force his back towards hers, to push his lips away from her cheeks so that her gaze burn into his.] Let go, Klaus. [ of whatever he's holding on to, she urges him to let go of the resistance to fall and just fall.]
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and yet it means nothing, none of it. it means everything as he strokes into her quicker now, pointed with each pinning caress of his body, roused and excited and ravenous. he keeps her eyes with the darkness in his own, releases one of her hands to hold her face.
soft sounds barely leave his throat. his thumb touches the tip of her chin, and his lashes barely flutter low as he barely kisses her, soft and unpressed and chaste. his tongue gently touches her top lip, the bed rocking thunderously under them. it's waves of pleasure, building and shaking him, trembling his fingers, his hand at her face. it's violence, lust, and softness. his hold flexes, finds her throat for something to steady him, to keep her gaze on his as the first grunt spills from his lips. ]
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if she could only touch him there. truly touch his heart, make him less of who he is, who he forces himself to become because of paranoia, a centuries worth of hurt and anger. if only he sought redemption like she did, like stefan. she can't be his redemption when he doesn't even want it. it stings, to think that he's more like damon, the sort to do anything to protect his interests ( his main interest being power and his family). anything but give into the lightness that might be hidden in the darkest corners of his heart, waiting to be freed.
her fingers splay out against his skin, laying flat as his fingers find her throat, cutting off some of the air to her lungs, making her gasp, hitting her with enough pleasure that her body trembles around his, quivers and quakes, every one of those descriptive words that you read in dime store novels. she swoons and melts, she pants against his lips as he strokes inside of her with a merciless frenzy, doing as he's been bade to do, losing himself inside of her, so close to what she actually wants and yet so impossibly far.]
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