Title:Tit for Tat.

Pairing:Damon/Klaus.

Rating:PG-13 for this chapter.

Warnings:Slash/gay themed/boyxboy - whatever you wanna call it.

Disclaimer:I do not own anything, merely entertainment purposes only.

Summary:Klaus saves Damon's life, but of course, it comes at a price.

A/N:(Edited April 2013) I'm slowly going through the chapters and editing/changing things because I'm kinda embarassed about my writing since I wrote this sometime last year, or year before, I can't remember lol. Just thought I'd let you know! Plus, this doesn't have a proper summary yet because I haven't really decided where I'm taking this story :)

Chapter One

"I hear from the rumour mill, that you were bitten by a werewolf. Nasty way to go for a Vampire, ey Damon?" Klaus strolled into Damon's bedroom, all perfect posture and smug pouting.

Damon, who lay wearing away to death, was in his king-sized bed, sheets wrapped low around his hips. His torso bear, his forehead dripping with sweat and his arm a disease-ridden mess.

Klaus examined the 171 year old Vampire closely as he approached him. "I mean, there's the hallucinating, the excruciating pain, turning into a rabid animal..." he continued his taunting, perching on the edge of Damon's bed, looming over him. "Looks like you could use a cure," he humoured, wiggling his eyebrows with a sarcastic smile pulled across his lips.

Damon swallowed back his saliva as he stared dazily up at the blurred figure, his eyesight taking its leisurely time to adjust and re-focus. But he didn't need his eyesight to know who it was.

"What're you doing here?" Damon croaked out, his voice hoarse and thick with pain. He could see more clearly now.

There was a moment of hesitation whilst Klaus pondered his answer, his eyes scrutinized down on Damon, making him feel very insecure and slightly worried. Though what was the point in him being worried? The worst Klaus could do was kill him, and he was already dieing. If anything, taking in the predicament he was in, Klaus would be doing him a favour.

Something inside Damon hoped that maybe that was why the original was here, that he'd just put him out of his misery. But his ego didn't want his death to be at the hand of him, Klaus didn't deserve the honor.

The older vampire said nothing, but it was what he did that caused Damon's panic as he watched him crawl up onto the bed, kneeling either side of him, straddling his hips. Bracing his body with his hands resting at the side of Damon's head, Klaus leaned further down, leaving their faces mere inches apart.

A thrill of arousal coursed through Damon's veins, it sickened him to think that his body was clearly excited by the current situation. He waited impatiently for Klaus to reply and when he eventually did, what he had to say shocked him.

"I'm here to help you," his voice was quiet, barely a murmur of words, but Damon still heard it as clear as day. Though it hurt his stomach to do he couldn't help it, Damon huffed out what he could of a laugh.

"Yeah, right," the smile that broke out from the laughter, stayed entertaining Damon's lips a few seconds longer.

Klaus glared down on him, lips slightly parted, running his tongue along the lower lip. He decided that he wouldn't waste time trying to convince Damon, what was the point? He had motives to fullfil, he needs Damon by his side and so whether Damon believed it or not, he was going to be cured.

Jumping straight into action, he raised his right hand wrist to his lips, biting down and puncturing the skin with minimal effort. He felt the blood pour into his mouth, some escaping down his throat but the rest pushed its way out of the small gaps between his wrist and lips.

For a brief moment Klaus thought, I taste good, before lowering his wrist down towards Damon's mouth.

"What do you think you're doing?" Damon forced the words out, scratching up the narrow tube only to leave his throat burning raw. He couldn't fight back, simply because he didn't have the strength. The least he could do was turn his mouth away to the side, but little good that did to help him.

Even through his disgust for Klaus, he couldn't help thinking how beautiful and enticing the blood smelt, filling his nostrils with false desire and watering his mouth with a pretence of need. His eyes became fixated on the slow waterfall of scarlet tear drops falling seductively from the curve of Klaus' bleeding wrist.

The urge to drink was overwhelming and intoxicating, he could feel the veins beneath his skin under his eyes begin to throb with want; his dead, beating heart begin to race with excitement; his canines pulsing from their core as he slowly grew infatuated.

"Damon, you must drink. Trust me." Klaus' eyes widened, his tongue flicking out to taste his lips, the corners stained with his own existance, his own life source.

Damon willed himself to resist, but how could he when the urge was that strong? Why should he trust Klaus? Why would Klaus possibly want to help him? How is drinking Klaus' blood going to save him? So many questions.

"Trust you? How can I trust you, when I think so little of you?" Damon felt breathless after forcing the sentence out, his mind swirled inside the confinements of his skull, dizzy and confused.

Klaus' face began to change, morph into someone else, someone Damon knows very personally. He blinked against the image, confused and wary.

The walls of his bedroom began to pulse towards him, closing in on him. He didn't need oxygen...yet why, then, was he feeling claustophobic? He was a predator, a monster to be feared...yet why, then, was he scared?

The face staring down on him was not menacing, nor predatory. Twisted from Klaus' short, light brown tufts of hair and devious eyes, to a face with golden-brown locks combed over, gentle features and soulful brown eyes. Soulful, human, brown eyes.

"Brother?"

"Feed, Damon," Stefan's voice encouraged, beautifully melodic, warm, welcoming; endless words to describe his brothers voice. Stefan lowered his arm down to Damon's mouth, smiling with hope. Damon could never deny the requests of his brother, he would do all and anything for him. He would, perhaps, do a little too much for him.

He opened his mouth wide enough to enclose his lips around the teeth punctures. The warm, satin liquid poured effortlessly into his mouth, paving his throat with a craving so deeply unsatisfying, no matter how much blood he drank. No matter how hard he tried to settle the yearning for anothers life source, his need is insatiable.

Becoming stronger with each swallow of this beautiful liquid, Damon wrapped his fingers tightly around the wrist as he viciously bit down, hard, into the flesh. A wanton moan vibrating through his lips, pushing through to be heard. Stopping was something Damon never wanted to do.

He slowly began to recognise the confusion and dizziness fading into the darkness of his mind, the pain flowing through his veins deceased, and the open wound of the werewolf bite was no longer burning and aching with merciless agony. Stunned, Damon pulled away from the arm flooding with crimson that tasted so deliciously sweet, beyond words.

The face leaning over him had returned to Klaus', staring down at him with a devious smirk and a satisfied quirk of one slender, golden eyebrow.

"Your blood is the cure?" Damon whispered, both his eyebrows curving down in shock.

"My blood is the cure," Klaus confirmed , his smug smirk now spreading to a very wide grin.

Damon's eyes snapped down to the tent in Klaus' dark, denim jeans. Instead of following his gaze, Klaus continued to study Damon's face with intent.

"And you're hard," Damon stated, his eyebrows now stretched high up on his forehead, somehow feeling a little turned on himself.

It's the blood, Damon thought over and over again, I got a little carried away, that's all.

Suddenly, a realisation hit Damon. "You could've compelled me to drink your blood, why didn't you?"

Klaus sat back a little, adjusting the weight slightly on Damon's stomach, and sighed.

"I wanted you to make the decision yourself, so that when I tell you that you owe me one,you owe me one on the terms that you made the choice to drink; not on the terms that I forced you. If that were the case, you wouldn't owe me a single ounce of your loyalty." He shrugged in thought, before become once again, fixated on Damon.

"Ah shit," Damon cursed, snidely, throwing a palm over his eyes. This elicited a soft chuckle from Klaus' mouth.