Warning: Bloodplay kinks, and graphic sex.

For prompt 120: teeth.

There's something chilling about letting Klaus kiss her neck.

He's been there before. Of course, the circumstances had been much different then – she was being used, as leverage, an excuse; became a casualty in the crossfire. There was no time. He bit her, and dropped her, and left her to die. Well, nearly. He'd never technically left her side, but they'd been too busy, too caught up in the moment of saving her life to think about how this whole fiasco might've affected the both of them when they parted ways, but never parted hearts.

Especially after Tyler left. She stormed into Klaus' home a day later, angry, so angry, uncoiling her scarf, and dropping her coat off by the front door. Klaus was drawing – what else would he be fucking doing? – legs up on the sofa, and she walked right over, snatching up the sketchbook and flinging it far across the room where Ming Dynasty porcelain crashed.

He might have said something in protest, but Caroline wrung the front of his shirt with a tight fist and pulled him in the direction she wanted him to go (it was a little to the right, toward the centre of the couch), where she'd have room to pitch her knees on either side of his hips and straddle him.

Never had she ever seen Klaus look so lost. She revelled in it.

"You want to do something for me?" she said, the ire burning red hot in her voice. You know, since you said that it was all for me.

And she kissed the argument from his mouth, so he couldn't reply. She knew he wouldn't stop her.

Then she kissed him again.

And again.

He tasted… It didn't matter.

It was supposed to be let's just get it over and done with.

But it made her think. About the way he licked up the column of her throat when he held her, a hand at the start of her spine; one at the small of her back. He was cradling her, holding her close, until every vibration that ran between them thrummed deep in her chest.

She also remembers the shot of fear suddenly dousing her veins as she felt his teeth scrape on her bare skin. She knew what it was like, to be taken by his poisonous bite, but she wondered what it would've been like to have him do it then, slowly, and see the dark mess of her blood staining his chin while he snapped his hips up into her. Nevermind that it would send her to death's door again – she was absolutely sure that he'd sooner bleed dry for her than let her perish.

Fuck, she muttered, because the thought was making her so wet that she felt a little embarrassed to hear how their bodies met.

Fuck, she grumbled, because it wasn't so easy to just be done with him.

She tries not to look at him like he's a piece of meat, but it's near impossible. It only takes being in the same room with him to get her thinking about the way he gripped her thighs when he filled her with his cock - so crass, Caroline, but so true - which isn't exactly wise, because more than a couple of her friends have the same heightened senses as her. One good whiff of her arousal could make things awkward as hell.

Okay. Stop.

Caroline gives him a final sidelong glance, determined to cast all memory aside, and focus - just focus! - on the fact that Stefan is in the middle of asking him for a favour that he's not going to like.

But Klaus catches her staring, and he rubs a spot on his lower lip with his thumb. Dumb tease. To Stefan, he probably just looks like he's actually considering the offer.

She knows that the only thing he's considering is how much longer he has to wait before he can part her legs and have her tremble around him again.

Too bad. There isn't supposed to be a next time.

His hands are warm, but Caroline feels hotter.

It's definitely got something to do with his mouth moving along the line of her shoulder. "I thought you weren't coming back," he says, the English timbre of his voice thick in her ears.

She thought she wasn't either.

Caroline looks down. All ten tips of her fingers perch on the table in front of them, too tense to fully brace its edge because he's pulled the front of her tee down and has her nipple caught between his fingers. You can be convincing, she swallows back into herself, as he clutches her breast more fully. He shouldn't know that everything about his touch makes her thighs clench and her blood run hot.

"People can change their minds." The answer seems to satisfy him; he slides his hand around her hip and flattens his palm on her abdomen so she can feel him press hard against her from behind.

"Mm," she hears him sound out, and she accidentally takes in a sharp breath when he suddenly eases his fingers past the bands of her skirt and her panties, smoothing downward. "I don't think so."

Caroline knits her brow, about to verbalize her disagreement, but damn, he's moving lower, and he's still warm, whispering more secrets under her ear. Will his bite be tender?, she thinks absently. She's seen him feed off of other people before, in flashes of urgency and power, but it gets her so curious about what it'd be like to have him take his time with it.

He cups her roughly between her legs, denying her that little brush of satisfaction to where she needs him to be. To feel the want choke her, ripple through, to hear her body tell him the truth – he likes all of that. Klaus likes it when she aches.

Her hand finally lifts from the table, almost flying to her skirt to make him touch her; touch me properly she sighs quietly. I want your electric skin.

"You don't think people change their minds?"

She feels his smile on her neck, and there it is again; the chill, racing downward. "I think you made your mind up about me a long time ago." Klaus' hand spreads her open, close, massaging, and she bites her lip so she doesn't moan. "But you hate how little and quickly it took for you to decide."

Caroline turns around, forcing his hands off of her. "Don't try to read me."

Klaus still reaches for her hip and closes the gap she's created. He can't not touch her, she realises, and the more she tries to sidle out from between him and the desk, the harder he grinds, and oh, she thinks of his cock being in her again when he bends low to breathe in deep along her jaw.

You're so fucking lousy at this, Care, she scolds herself.

Klaus knows it too.

He tips forward to kiss her. Gives her the soft one, the one that branches way down into her heart, that makes her feel a mild tingle in her kneecaps. He uses it to calm her down, but all it does is make her breathe harder (she can't breathe).

"I'm not reading you," he says, when he breaks his lips away and looks down to where his thumbs are hooked on the top of her skirt, intent on leaving her completely naked from the waist down. "There are lots of things you tell me without ever telling me."

And he tugs, dropping to his knees, her panties dragged down. Caroline's mouth opens, thinking, will it hurt more if it's on the thighs?

A stubbled cheek brushes against a potential spot for puncturing. How much would it hurt?

She leans back to sit on the edge of the table, spreads a little wider to prove she isn't wary. "Do I?"

The dark pink of his tongue licks a quick line along her. "Yes," he mutters.

But he hasn't guessed right yet.

She stops thinking as soon as he parts her folds with his fingers. Caroline runs her hand through his hair, trying to keep her gasp down, but his mouth is pressed to her clit, and he's swirling around it with his tongue. He draws back a moment to suck the ends of two fingers into his mouth, after which they immediately sink into her-

"It's alright to enjoy it, you know," Klaus teases with a smile. "Loudly." But that's the challenge, that's what makes the reward even more delicious, to make her whimper like she's doing now and getting her increasingly wet as the fingers pump in and out of her. She clenches, and it allows him to go faster.

"I won't bite," he says, then his tongue circles over her clit again, and again, until the wood of the table creaks from the iron grip of both her hands because god, that feels good.

She wouldn't mind if he did. Caroline gnaws on her lip so the secret doesn't spill out of her; she lets the pleasure take over and pants high into the ceiling instead, until her back bows and she comes. She feels him groan against her, because she shakes, bucks, comes, hears the smack of his mouth and it's all just so much, having his fingers pull out and having him feast on her like she was his last meal. That's what he's good at; showing her how hungry he is for her.

Could he be hungry, though?

Her mind flits to fangs again. Then she shakes her head. "Klaus," she urges.

He looks up from between her legs, breathless, then rises, nose brushing past her curls, her navel, the curve of her breast, and when she finally feels the damp pat of his lips on her neck again, she lets the sound of his name pepper the air.

"Klaus." It's all that ever really satisfies him, hearing her call upon him.

Caroline touches his belt, but he stays her wrist. "I'll be back again," he whispers, then trails his palm down her breast a last time.

It forms a different sort of ache that causes her to grab him.

"Wait," she says, and she doesn't know why, but she kisses him. Slinks her hands up his chest and buries her fingers in the dark blonde roots of his hair, like she isn't going to let go. It's hard to let go when she can feel him hard against her, when he's so open and receptive to whatever scraps she has to offer.

It makes her want to give him more than that.

Let go, Caroline.

Elena, Stefan, Damon, Rebekah. Klaus.

They talk over each other, about the cure, about the implications of finding it, about the implications of not finding it.

All she can think about is Klaus' fangs pricking flesh. Wherever. She thinks about two fingers and one bite, and crosses her legs a bit harder as she stares at the curvature of his arguing mouth. He argues with them so much, and she often wishes she could throw him down and replace all the drivel with the searing moan of her name.

Instead she opts for cutting wit, a touch too personal for his fracturing ego, and sees a bitter black fire light up in his eyes that causes her heart to skip a beat. Will it do the same as he spreads her legs and fucks her into the bed? As he holds her down by the hips and feeds from her neck?

And she's got to have his blood too, to survive. Does she do it first? Does she just close her mouth over his thigh and drink? Or does she wait until he's almost there?

Can she make him come like that?

The thought of Klaus pumping his cock into her already makes Caroline shift in her seat; thinking about him losing it when she bites into him elicits a loud, uncomfortable sigh from deep in her chest.

This is getting out of hand.

She lifts her head as she hears the rap on her bedroom door. He's back. As promised, she smiles, putting her tablet aside. The pillow is tucked behind her back and she straightens up against it, watching him step into her room. Klaus is wearing a proper shirt and tie for some reason, with his blazer slung over his shoulder.

He's every bit dressed to be undressed. Buttons and knot and belt.

"You look like you went to a funeral."

He walks in and drapes the blazer over the edge of the bed. "May as well have been." Klaus plants a knee to the mattress and moves his hands to cup her face, in the swift, sweeping way that makes her feel like he's lifting her up and out of this reality into the next. He wants to leave everything behind and take her with him.

So she lets him. She lets him kiss her, lets his hands fall lower and snake under her tee, over her ribs, because he needs to be close. Needs her, because he's riddled full of trouble and she's the only one armed with the salve.

She sucks on his lower lip and soothes it with a gentle tongue in return. He moans a bit, shoulders falling slack.

Sucks a bit harder, and he climbs onto her, breathing hard.

Caroline thinks once about it. Then she thinks about it again, when she feels his finger race along the band of her shorts.

This is as good a time as any other.

She nips the soft flesh and tastes blood, copper, metallic, whatever, she tastes Klaus, and undoes the knot of his tie and those buttons on his shirt while absorbing his noise of surprise. The heels of his hands anchor themselves to the wall behind her head, but no, she doesn't want to be lying down for this, so Caroline slides out from under him, opting to kneel with him, and makes short work of his belt and his fly, fuelled by a bit of aggression she can easily blame the blood for. A little goes a long way, she'll say.

Klaus watches her pull his pants to the limit of his knees, where they dig into the bed – this is how she likes him to be, really, on his knees – and her nails rake down, until her hand smoothes over the length of his shaft, pressing it into his abdomen.

"I get the sense that you want something from me," he drawls, lids heavy. One hand slides into her hair again and he's about to kiss her, but he wants to hear her response first – he knows, doesn't he? Klaus knows, but she has to say it. She has to breathe the words so he can give it life with the force of his touch.

Blood, she gnaws down on her lip. I want everything. It's stuck. Caroline tries to answer with a hard stroke, thinking that perhaps if she showed him, he might understand, but she suddenly feels his fingers close tightly in her locks and around her wrist to stop her.

There's no way around it.

She stares, first at his mouth, then at his eyes, grey with pupils wide and black. "I do."

And he waits patiently for it; she can't play that game with him. She never wins.

"I think we should," she pauses, noticing that the tiny nick she caused has already closed, "share."

Klaus squeezes her wrist.

"Blood," she finishes, feeling the heat of relief and – fine, she'll admit it – anxiety, colour her face.

He stares at her, stony and unwavering. She doesn't want to repeat it again.

She doesn't have to.

The grip on her loosens considerably. While he's thinking about it, Caroline wants to move things along. She kisses a path from the clavicle up to his neck, and nudges his wrinkled white shirt off his shoulders with two earnest hands. Then the kisses make their way to his cheek, and to the corner of his mouth. The soft end of her tongue drags a short, coaxing line at the seam of his lips; it's more effective than whispering fuck me into his ear.

Though there's no harm in saying something anyway. "Bite. Me," she stretches the pause out between the words like pulled sugar, certain that his spine is also tingling from the way her finger runs over the knots in the centre of his back. It's meant to sound like a tease, but a sliver of desperation has managed to underscore it.

Klaus lifts her shirt over her head, then runs his hands up to under her breasts, almost cupping them. "Where?"

Caroline's never really thought about where as much as she simply imagined him just going for it anywhere and everywhere.

She glides a line down her neck, over the soft pulse of her jugular, quietly indicating.

He follows the path with chaste kisses, head slanted for better access. For an instant, her heart flutters from thinking that it's already happening. "Have you always thought about this?" he asks, voice gravelly against her throat .

"I've thought about it long-" then she gasps, as she feels his fingers push her panties aside and slide from slit to clit. "-enough," she completes, and she wants to take his cock in her hand but he's breaking her concentration, two fingers borrowing her wetness to drag to the front, stirring dense pleasure in her core with the insidious back and forth of them.

Klaus grazes her clit a little harder on the return stroke. "And how do you want it?"

Caroline lets out a sharp moan; his mouth parts at the sound.

"However you want."

The anticipation wrings hard in her chest when she sees the dangerous smile he cracks.

He retracts to rid himself of the rest of his clothes - there's still too much of it - and she does the same, scrambling to the edge and shoving her shorts and her soaked panties past her hips so they pool at the foot of her bed. When she looks back up, she suddenly realises that they've never really been completely naked together before. There's always been a shirt to grab, a skirt to flip.

Now there's nothing, bare as the day they were born. And Klaus looks good; lean, not too cut. Her eyes are particularly drawn to the faint line that starts from his hip and ends under his cock – she licks her lip at the sight of it.

He looks almost as good as she does.

Slowly, Caroline's knees drift apart. Come here and show me.

He walks over, hands to her thighs. Drops to a crouch, presses his cheek to the inside of her leg and has his finger travel through her folds again, this time being far more deliberate with the pressure he's applying.

"Open," he tells her, and he slips his right shoulder under her knee to prop her leg up a bit. His hand nudges the other thigh further away – god, she's so exposed, pink and glistening and right in his face – and gently pushes her leg until he nods that she's adequately open.

Caroline flushes at the way his eyes are glassy with hunger as he studies her. Lower lip tucked into his mouth, she receives no warning when two of his fingers enter her in one long stroke.

"Oh," she gasps, throwing her head back, surprised how easily they slip out and plunge back into her again. "Ohh," she clenches, and the heat is coming off her in waves as he continues to pump, to coax the cry from her very lungs.

Her hand rises to squeeze her own breast as Klaus crooks up, sending a jolt of pleasure straight into her womb. "Jesus," she moans, mouth open now, and her hips are beginning to buck upward, the sensation rolling over every nerve in her body.

"Klaus," he corrects.

Caroline shakes her head and lets out a short, strained laugh. A smile forms against her - wolfish, she decides - and she smiles back, deciding that she quite likes the contrasting textures of soft lips and bristle of his stubble against her thigh.

That is, until she feels his teeth.

Not the fangs, no, but the light, familiar scrape of them is enough to turn her deep breaths into short, irregular pants of desire that evolve her need into a desperation for more; she slides her hand down from her breast to her abdomen, intent on touching herself.

He doesn't allow it.

Stopping its descent with his free hand, Klaus flattens his palm over her pelvis.

"What do you want more?" he asks. "This?" A thumb sweeps over the swelling pearl of sensitive flesh, the pleasure of which makes her fist the sheets. "Or this," and she witnesses the stormy colour of his irises turn into a vibrant gold hue.

Does she have to choose?

No. "Everything," Caroline says breathlessly. "I want everything."

Klaus stands, thumb still kept her. His other hand withdraws to wipe slick tips on the ridge of his member; Caroline's heart nearly stops when he steps forward and presses it ever so slightly into her for just that little bit, barely entering. Everything, she sighs inwardly, tempted beyond belief to angle her hips down so she feels more. But he drags the head of his cock over her clit instead – why, why? – she frowns, frustration tainting her groan of need.

She looks up at him, like she's about to rip the heart right out of his chest if he doesn't give her what he wants. Klaus doesn't care. His cock slips down her wet centre, doing the same as before – being a stupid fucking tease – and then lets out a hint of a chuckle before she feels the pad of his thumb circling over her aching flesh.

Faster. Faster.

She doesn't care either. As she shivers under his touch, her legs lift and pin down on either side of his hips.

Caroline brings him home, all the way into her. He keels over her arching body, groaning in surprise – everything, she whispers again – and she moves herself against him – no, fucks herself on him – in search for some sort of relief.

"You're not waiting," he rasps into her ear, and pumps his hips once to meet hers, hard, his hands grasping the tense muscles of her thighs, because it's much too difficult for him not to. Not with all her heat and wetness and the way she welcomes him bare.

"I don't like waiting," she grits her teeth, "Don't make me wait. Don't-"

Klaus kisses away the protest, and breathes in when he leans away, cock pulling back, and he sighs when he drives himself back in. Does it again, and again, in strong, sharp thrusts, drinking in the yes fuck yes of her precious cries vibrating throughout the room, feeding his longing to hear and feel all of her. "Oh sweetheart," his voice floods her veins with a fire, "I love it when you get like this."

Caroline reaches down to cover the hand that's settled over the outside of her thigh with her own. There's a dark look that develops in his eye when she leads his fingertips back to her throbbing centre; she guides him, applying the pressure she needs, showing him how she wants to be touched.

With rapid swipes across her bundle of nerves, she falls back with her hips rising and her body quivering around him -

Klaus wraps an arm around her waist and buries his face in her neck, slowing his pace down to a near halt. She can feel his kiss on her, the wet slice of his tongue marking the lean outline of her pulse.

"Caroline," he growls as he dips her until her back is flat to the bed – surely he hears the pattering of her heart as much as it pounds in her own ears. Her hand curves over the blade of his shoulder, skimming a path up into his hair, not quite able to decide if she should push or tug.

It's going to be poison. It's going to hurt.

And still, she does want it so.

"Klaus," she groans, louder and much more demanding than she intended. All she can focus on is how turned on she feels knowing that it's about to happen... God, she has no idea why, but it makes her want to fuck him harder.

Then she lets out a high-pitched noise, sharp like the fangs that sink into the slope of where her neck and shoulder meet. She winces, even as the momentary pierce of pain subsides into soreness and heat when he drinks all the dark red that cascades into her hair and the sheets.

He starts to move again, sliding into her – he pulls his head back and Caroline looks into the depths of his black-gold-white eyes, a mix of terror and unbridled lust clouding her sensibilities at the sight of her blood drenching his chin.

Monster. Monster, monster, monster. She reaches out to touch the stained skin, already feeling the venom fever gently wash over her.

It's magnificent.

The pads of her fingers creep up to his plump lower lip, studying. Klaus licks the tip of her index, slowly at first, then catches it with the now-blunt edges of his teeth as he thrusts, harder now, hitting her in spots that thunder pleasure into her bones.

But it's not enough, and she's not good at waiting.

Without warning, Caroline wraps her legs around him and tears into him, salt and metal and life erupting on her tongue like the very day he offered to save her.

The neck is different, she savours the fresh puncture lasciviously. Leaner.

And blood flows better there.

His grunt of shock fills the room and stills his hips for a moment when she has two, three more large drags of him. How delicious his shiver feels; he twitches inside of her as her fangs retract and she tells him softly to keep going. When he isn't quick enough about it, she tightens the squeeze of her legs and twists, so she ends up on top, bearing down on him at a furious rhythm.

Bloodlust, they might call it, but the frenzy's all her. Her hands turn slippery with sweat, smearing the stray branches of red rivulets trailing down his back as she rocks her hips urgently on him, steadily hurtling towards the edge. For a moment, she senses that he might feast again when he presses his cheek to her breast, but he's much too caught up in the hot arch of her back toward him, fingers firmly planted on her hip to guide her movement.

A lot like the first time, she thinks. Only now, she's coming a lot faster.

Much, much faster.

Caroline tenses a brief second. There's something about the smell of blood combined with all the right ways his cock rubs her from the inside that makes her body seize and her walls pulse. "Fuck," she feels him absorb her tremble. "You're shaking."

She is, and she can't stop because he won't stop. His momentum holds steady until the depth of his thrusts grow shallow and frantic; Klaus bottoms out with a clench of his jaw and a quiet rumbling in his chest, easing back into sated bliss with her.

Caroline is too tired to remove herself from his embrace after she's floated back down, so she settles for curling up next to him and admiring his impressive handsomeness, even with the taint of blood on his face. In fact, it kind of makes him look a pinch more sexy. Dangerous sexy. The back of her hand covers her mouth to keep her smile from breaking too wide at the thought; how much fulfilment she's gotten out of this should remain her own private little secret.

This is new territory.

Klaus brushes her hair back and traces a finger around the spot where the punctures have healed over. He expresses a subdued gaiety as well, his bright eyes trained on her clever, vicious mouth. "Was it what you wanted?" he asks.

"No," Caroline shakes her head. "I think we might have to try again."