#their things

“That was bullshit,” Klaus muttered for the fifth time in the last two hours, and Caroline gave him a smug smirk as she slid under the covers and watched him strip to his boxers before he climbed in with her.

“Someone once told me that all’s fair in love and war.”

“Well that time I won,” he said grumpily, slinging one arm around her waist and pulling her close, the other cradling his head.

“Don’t worry. I promise there will be no pictures, and nothing will leave our apartment,” Caroline said, trailing a finger down his chest as she grinned at him, and Klaus sighed, his hand absently stroking up and down her spine.  

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have made the bet if you weren’t willing to put out.”

He snorted. “I didn’t think I’d lose. And put out? Really, love? As I recall, there was that one incident with the toy where you most certainly did not.”

“I did too! You basically got two for the price of one, you ass. You totally one hundred percent got the better end of that deal.”

He scowled, not arguing (because she was right), and she nosed his jaw.

“Plus, you totally would make me fill my end of the deal if you’d won.”

“Oh, eventually you will. I will find a way.”

As she’d promised (“under duress” she still insisted, despite them both knowing she was lowkey into it) in San Diego, she’d done the maid thing once. Had it been unbelievably hot? Yes. Was she willing to do a full week of it just for funsies? Absolutely fucking not. She’d told him that he’d need another win for that, and he had immediately thrown the idea of the exhibitionism kink on the back burner (“another game” he promised with a wolfish grin that gave her goosebumps), going all in for a week of maid service.

She’s been wary, but her risk ended up paying off. She’d finally won. He was still ahead though, so she knew they’d be playing at least two more times. She intended on winning both of those, and she already had a priority list of what she would put on the table.

“Well, tell you what. If you’re a good boy for me, I might be willing to play another round,” she said teasingly, bending to rub her nose against his, and he scowled, not moving.

“I’m not a dog, Caroline.”

“Nope, you’re my slave. Starting next Saturday at noon,” she said cheerfully, her smile growing wider when he glared at her. “I get a whole week of you doing whatever I want. I’m so excited!”

“What are your plans, love? Endless foot rubs?” he asked dryly, and she scoffed.