#klaus

𝒟𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓃-

He came home after fighting with Stefan. Again. He had to save his life. Again. He was pissed.

You were just there, minding your business like always — somehow still caught in the aftermath of Damon’s wrath.

He grabbed your face without warning and kissed you.

Not gentle.

Not careful.

You melted into it anyway.

His mouth moved down your jaw, down your neck. He dragged his tongue slowly up the side of it, breathing heavier than before.

Then he stilled.

His grip tightened.

His teeth hovered just a second too long over your pulse.

You felt it.

The almost.

He leaned back, brows furrowing like he was irritated — not at you, but at himself.

For a split second, something darker flickered behind his eyes.

Then it was gone.

He didn’t say anything.

He just pressed one last kiss to your neck — softer this time.

Like he was making up for something.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought lingered.

One day, maybe you’d let him.

𝐸𝓁𝒾𝒿𝒶𝒽-

He had gotten a new canopy bed and insisted on “testing it out.”

Now you were in his bedroom, tangled in dark sheets and silk curtains.

Every time with Elijah was slow. Intentional. Controlled.

He took his time with you. Always did.

His hands moved like he was memorizing you. Like you were something rare.

You bit his shoulder.

Just to see.

Just to test him.

You didn’t expect the sound that left him.

A growl.

Low. Real.

His hand tightened on your waist. His jaw flexed. His breathing changed.

You saw it in his eyes — the shift.

Not anger.

Hunger.

For a moment, he didn’t look like the composed Original everyone feared.

He looked ancient.

Instinctive.

Feral.

But then he smoothed it over.

Like it never happened.

Neither of you mentioned it.

But his thumb traced your throat afterward.

Slowly.

Thoughtfully.

𝒦𝓁𝒶𝓊𝓈-

You were making out with him on the couch. Your hands in his hair. Him kissing your neck over and over because he knows it drives you mad.

You arched your neck just a little further, giving him more room.

He hummed against your skin.

You could let him do this all day.

He’d let himself.

He worships you in his own obsessive way.

Then it happens.

He smiles against your neck.

And this time — you feel his teeth.

Not accidental.

Not a slip.

Deliberate.

The air shifts.

You both freeze.

“Y/n…” he murmurs quietly.

But he doesn’t pull away right away.

His lips stay near your pulse.

His thumb tilts your chin so you have to look at him.

There’s something darker there.

Something calculating.

“I wasn’t going to,” he says.

It’s a lie.

You both know it.

And for a moment, you’re not sure what scares you more.

The fact that he almost did.