[She always does what she chooses, now that she has the strength to be able to choose. No one tells her what to do anymore, and the things she does are very rarely out of anything resembling obligation.
He knows this. He's dealt with it from her more than enough times.
He pulls back to look at her, and her expression is vulnerable, as if she's afraid he'll say no. It only hurt more to know that she turned him away when he likely felt the way she does now.]
I just...I watched you practically die and I can't stop thinking about it.
[She feels like she needs to explain, to prove that she's not just doing this for him.]
If you left tomorrow, I'd regret it if I'd kept doing what I'm doing.
[She needs to make her decisions based on the now and not what might happen. She can live with that, no matter what happens later.]
So if you want to be, then I'm here. I don't want to waste time anymore.
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
( he has suffered his own unravellings from that close brush with whatever death is possible for him here. he has, but he has not thought of hers. he has not considered what fears or revelations it might have inspired in her, much too occupied with his own.
her confession strikes true, and the dealt blow of it is clear on his face: he did not consider her worry for him. he does not consider anyone's worry for him, from perceived indifference to the lack of necessity for it. he is immortal, but that is not why this moves him.
it moves him because she cares. (she cares like so few do.) it moves him to stunned silence, his breath held in exquisite anticipation as the rest of her confession falls from her lips, because it means she wants. she wants more. she wants again. this is a blow, because it takes him a moment of incomprehension to understand, to believe —
he shifts on his feet once in his uncertainty.
then there is nothing left to say. his hand reaches to cradle her face; his lips fit with tender and firm passion to hers. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
[It had inspired a multitude of things that she'd found difficult to process or express. He was supposed to be one of those things that would always be there, that couldn't get brought down by anything, that she didn't have to dread the loss of. Maybe, somewhere in her mind, she simply assumed he would always be there when she might need him, but that very thought had been shaken to the core when his heart stopped, when he dessicated just like any of them could.
She could lose anyone, at any time.
At first, that made staying away seem like the safer option, but Caroline needed people. She needed friends and love and company to be happy. Isolating herself would only make her angrier, and she couldn't fathom the thought of doing it just to save herself some heartache in the future.
That would happen. It was inevitable. Nothing could have saved her mother and nothing was going to prevent what might happen in the future, regardless of how they tried to fight whatever might come their way.
She was selfish. She hadn't wanted to have this conversation now, when his wounds were so fresh from his loss, but she hadn't been able to help herself now that she was here, wrapped up and feeling a warmth she'd resisted for too long because she'd been afraid.
The press of his hand against her cheek is less surprising that the sudden pressure of his lips against hers, but it feels as good as it always has, and she finds herself unable to fight the urge to stop. She doesn't want to, even if hiding pain in comfort might not be the best course of action. If he wants, then so does she, and she proves it in the way she responds, pulse racing and lips turning up against his mouth.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
( the wounds are fresh, yes. there are words they should speak, sentiments and confessions and secrets of the heart and mind they should whisper to each other. there is grief to be felt, but klaus knows that grief will always be there, when he is ready to feel it. (he will feel it still, heavy and sorrowful in the whole of his heart, even with the bittersweet joy possessing it now.) he wants this comfort. he wants this piece of homecoming.
he wants her.
he needs this, as he's needed it all these months. as he's yearned and longed for, as he's weathered in absence. if that is selfishness then so be it, but he doesn't consider selfishness for a moment.
all he considers is her lips, turned to his. the wild, tender need spiraling out of control, feeling her racing heartbeat so close to his. her body, pliant and perfect as he presses her close by the cut of her waist. he turns her inside and reaches blindly to shut the door behind them. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
[It's easy to give in to this selfishness, because if he isn't thinking of it, then they aren't hurting anyone.
Her lips grin again as he turns her into the room, hears the door shut rapidly a moment later, her body curving into his and her arms slipping further around his neck to keep her balance. Those same lips part gently, the whole movement so familiar to her that suddenly it seems like very little time has passed at all.
He tastes exactly like she remembers.
Her arms loosen around him, hands dragging over shoulders and then down between them to reach for the hem of her shirt. Her lips part from his reluctantly, though only so she can drag the thin fabric over her head and toss it aside.
If this right here isn't the biggest fuck you to Wonderland right now, I don't know what is.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
( she tastes as he remembers. better for her absence, the pleasure like a bolt of lightning through him, her soft, open mouth a tease against the way they bend and press and pull to be nearer, to be seamless. he nearly whimpers, nearly groans; he leans in to chase her lips as she pulls away, his breath a dragging gasp.
his heart is pounding and pounding harder still as his eyes open slowly to see her smile and bare her skin.
it's the joy in her grin that electrifies him. that brings him to life. that reflects his own elation, so stark and bittersweet, mingling with the low of devastation crowding his heart. he takes it. he embraces it. he rushes forward, pushing her to the edge of the bed. his hands grasp the waist of her skirt and he tears it in half.
he grabs behind her thighs and lifts her up, coaxing her legs around him, as they've been dozens of times before. his eyes are full of heat, of wickedness, of love and promise as his palms slide up from her thighs to her back. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; THIS IS PROBABLY ABOUT TO GET NSFW
[There's a short gasp of disbelief at the sound of ripping fabric (always with the destruction, Klaus), but his hands easily coax her legs around his hips all the same, her thighs tensing to hold herself flush against him.
Her hands fist into the fabric laying against his back, slipping it up until she can grasp the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head, her skin aching with the need to feel his against it.
There's a strange exhilaration in her eyes, as if her confession took some immense weight off her shoulders. She's as relieved to be here in this moment as he is, any fears or concerns dashed by the action of making her choices and knowing they're the right ones for her.
Her hand slides over the back of his neck, pulling him into her, the intensity of her kiss speaking volumes about how much she's been holding back, how it's been welling up inside her, how it was only a matter of time before it spilled out.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW INCOMING
(she should really expect destruction at this point. order two of everything from the closets?
she sheds his shirt. it's discarded with all haste; he needs the feel of her skin just as she. he needs the softness of her and the solidity of her against him. his hands span her waist, the light in his eyes ignited by the same in hers: it's content. passion. that same uncoiling relief. when she pulls him into her, her sweet mouth finding his, he meets her with a moan.
his fingers dig into her skin. he savor and revels and cherishes that desire of hers, pushing and pulling at him. he falls into it with abandon, his kiss just as hungry, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile that fades only as the pleasure overcomes all other sensations but bursts of joy and want.
his hands clutch and caress her. he groans into the heat of her kiss and spin them around, sitting at the edge of the bed and tugging her hips into his, her into his lap. his heart races; he pulls from her mouth to press his lips and tongue to the hollow of her neck. his palms finds the curve of her shoulder, the strap of her bra to fist in his hand and draw into down. his lips and teeth and tongue find the peak of her breast beneath fabric. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW INCOMING
[Just because she expects it doesn't mean she has to like it, sir. But let's be real, she's clearly not that pressed.
His fingers press and leave their marks. She sucks air through her teeth even through her kiss, the pressure of his hands against her skin feels like home. Another quick spin and she's straddling him, sinking onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. Her palms carve a path up his chest as his lips part from hers, then run up the sides of his neck and into his hair as his teeth and tongue do their work.
Her hips shift against his, her head gently falls back with a contented sigh, long blonde locks brushing over her shoulder blades.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( there is no hesitation, no pause, no thought — only ardency and fervency. if he lingers, tongue painting wet circles around pert peak straining against his touch, his fingertips drawing down her arm, it's only because every sensation intoxicates him. it's only because he knows how to touch her and how he needs to touch her.
a breathy hum rumbles in his chest as her hips implore friction against his. (that's what he wants; he wants that.) he turns his head, bites the soft mound of her other breast and pulls her negligée down with coaxing force; it slips away beneath his mouth, already open and wet above her nipple.
she feels like home. she also feels like water to his parched throat; he's desperate for her. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[Her mouth closes as his teeth graze her skin, her own clenching shut as she pulls another breath through them in a quick hiss. Her nails drag against his scalp she pulls her fingers free from his hair, chin tilting back down to look at him before she's placing her palms against his chest and shoving hard.
She doesn't think he'll resist.
Her arms reach behind her, undoing the clasp on her bra and discarding it before he leans forward, her now bare torso brushing against his. One hand falls flat against the mattress above his shoulder, the other slipping between them to tug impatiently at his belt.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( he has no protest despite the loss; on the contrary — his eyes are dark with pupils blown, revelry in her show of force in the hint of his dimples. his back hits the bed but immediately his shoulders lift from it. (he feels a rush from her bared and commanding above him. he wants to claim her; he wants her to have her way. he wants everything and in this wild passion he will take it.)
he buries her fingers in her hair, savoring the softness of her cheek and the shape of her face cradled in his palm before delighting in the silk of those locks he reveres so much. his skin sings for hers; he arcs slightly at the brush of her body, heats and melts at the slide of her hand. klaus does nothing but aid her endeavor, helping her undo his belt and shuck his jeans down his hips. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[She shifts above him, her foot hooking into the waist of his jeans as he shucks them down, dragging them the rest of the way with a stretch of her leg.
Good enough.
She grins wickedly as she leans in again, reclaiming his mouth as she rolls to the side, calf slipping around his hip and dragging him with her until they're laying side by side. Her heel presses into his lower back, pulling him closer. Her arms encircle his neck as her torso presses firmly against his.
Each of her movements is demanding, insatiable, as if she's trying to physically destroy any remaining distance placed between them by Wonderland's meddling.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( there is no distance. he eschews every inch of it, only her hands pulling him in, every part of her rediscovering and known again, wrapped up with him. his breath catches and his lashes lower at her exquisite allure and dark intent, and when her lips descend on his, his fingers are already curling into a fist into her hair, tilting her face to the side to meet her.
and he groans, face flushing hot, heart racing at the friction and pleasure of her, from the wet, tender heat of their kiss to his hard arousal pressed between them. his arm, wedged beneath her, squeezes her impossibly closer, needy as his hips roll. his other hand maps a path up her thigh, from her hip to the curve of her spine to the nape of her neck. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[His name spills from her mouth as she inhales a quick breath against his mouth, the touch of his hand drifting over the length of her body sending a ripple down her spine. He's so close, but it's not enough; she wants more, she needs it.
Her leg shifts even further up, over his hip bone, before an impatient hand slips between them, her abdomen tensing to create just enough room to reach lower, fingers wrapping around to stroke him a few times before she guides him between her parted thighs, pressing the tip against her entrance.
She draws her mouth away from his, opens her eyes to look at him. Her breath shudders once in anticipation, her gaze holding his with hooded eyes holding a mixture of emotion and lust.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( he knows. he knows with familiar, instinctual, answering heat: from the sweet tenor of his name on her lips to the soft shudder and melding of her body against his how much she wants. this. him. them. it catches his breath short before she ventures her hand between them, the shallow raggedness of it erupting into a soft grunt as her hand wraps around him and strokes him in a way that drowns all remaining thought. his hips seek her touch; his lips part with breaths of pleasure against hers.
she leads him to the wet, promising heat of her and he shudders and heats. his hand presses to her hip; his other takes her wrist to guide it around his neck. his eyes are open too, depthless and ardent, tender and lustful both. he presses them together, slow and seamless: sinking her onto him as much as he meets her. this is what she wanted. what he wants. he wraps her up close, forehead to forehead, chest to chest, and gives to her impatience just as he draws their desire out. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[She can't help the parting of her lips at the gentle press of him, her mouth falling open further as he sinks inside, and she exhales a long contented sigh that brushes across his face. Her hips shift slightly against his, settling her body against his even as it cries out for the heated friction she craves.
Her forehead presses harder against his as her lips press together then, stifling a groan that she firmly silences as she presses her mouth to his. The kiss is needy but doesn't last long before she's breaking her mouth away, her breathing heavy despite their relative stillness.]
I missed you.
[She missed this, a fact that she had tried to hide from as if it were wrong to seek this comfort in the midst of her grief. She wanted to miss this for the right reasons, not just because she was alone.
She does. She did. He should know.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( he holds her close. he holds her so close his knuckles whiten when his fingers flex; the shifting of her hips, the answering, slow strain of his own in their held stillness as agonizing as it is perfect. he wants to feel her, to embrace her, to feel the breathlessness in her kiss. he shivers; he shudders with impossible desire, with the intensity of pleasure, the deliriousness of quiet ecstasy, of the contentment, he finds with her in his arms.
his eyes open slow after their kiss. she breathes, i missed you and he shivers again with awe and with need. he holds her tighter, tangling his fingers impossibly deeper in her hair, his fist tugging gently at the root. his body presses to her in a slow surge, his breath quiet and ragged against hers.
she missed him. he knows. he knows this is right; he sees it in her eyes. he feels his own, filling his heart. he suffered that lack just as she: feeling that empty space, that empty quiet, that piece of rightness taken away. his lips bush her cheek; his eyes stay on hers. ) Every moment, without you, ( he whispers. it's a promise. an oath. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[Just as he shivers at the words she murmurs to him in their brief quiet, so does she shudder at his whisper, the short exchange nearly bringing her to tears. She doesn't know if she should be deliriously happy or drown in despair at needing to have had that space for so long.
She decides she'd rather cling to the first.
Her thigh and calf tense at his hip, in some futile attempt to somehow draw him closer as she exhales another desperate sigh, contenting herself with leaning in to kiss that mouth that says the things that hit her deep inside her chest, fill her heart and lungs to bursting. Her hands grasp at his back, fingers pressing into his skin as she clings to him, head tilting as her lips part, hungrier this time.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( he's entranced by the joy and despair intermingling in her eyes, both reflecting from him; he's entranced by her tears that shine in the dark. his heart stutters in his chest; it feels as if it stops as they share this hanging moment of bittersweet tenderness threatening to overflow. the desperation of his unyielding hold on her loosens, but his strength and fervor does not. his unclenched fist moves down the wave of her hair, down the back of her neck.
he doesn't believe he's shared in or experienced anything more beautiful or heart-aching, but he embraces the former and releases the latter just as she.
he is tense with pleasure. the stillness and slight shifts of their bodies, the touch and hunger of her mouth, the tightening of her leg around him pressing him to the brink. he does not fall over. at the last moment he finds a reserve of calm. he kisses her with fierce, tender strength edged with heat; he kisses her until he cannot kiss her anymore. until his blood is pulsing like thunder and he is aching inside of her. he smooths her hair back. his eyes open. he looks at her in the stillness of the moment, before her begins to rock into her. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[Her eyes open as his does, eyelashes fluttering briefly as they try to focus through the haze. Her chest presses against his with each quick breath she takes. His hand dragging through her hair brings her a necessary prompt of calm. Her gaze locks with his, lips parting with a sigh as he starts to move again, this time with purpose and intent.
Her body constricts around him, seeking friction. She wants to feel every inch of his skin, which she explores with roaming hands, palms smoothing over his shoulders, up the back of his neck, down his spine.
She rolls onto her back then, pulling him with her, longing for the press of his weight above. Her legs encircle his waist, ankles hooking at his lower back as her hips rise to meet him, to let him bury himself as deeply as he pleases.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( for those exquisite moments there is only the touch of her hands luring him in, the quiet yearning of her body, pushed and pulled against him by hers and his own — by his own hands at her back, around the span of her hips. he gets lost in the raw and excruciating intimacy of it; he gets lost in how he wants her and how she wants him, the depth of both in the dark and longing of his gaze.
it's not enough. it never is, and when she beckons him atop her, her legs parting around him, the depths in which he slides into her is sweet, blinding relief. he groans, breathless, the endearment of sweetheart a rumble in his throat. he does bury himself as deeply as he pleases; he could hardly assuage nor censor himself. he covers her with his body, the flush high on his cheeks as he rocks ceaselessly into her. and he whispers against her lips, his fingertips running from her hair down to her shoulder, up to her pulse —
and he whispers. he whispers everythings: about the beauty of her like this, about what she wants, what she likes, about how he wants her, about how she is everything filling the spaces of a thousand years — )
Edited 2017-10-29 01:44 (UTC)
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[The concept of time ceases to matter, the room around them ceases to exist. There is just the press of the mattress at her back, the feel of his body above her, and the sounds of his voice in her ear. She soaks up the words, tucks them away in a safe place, to revisit when her own thoughts betray her, when she forgets how he sees her and can only find her own faults.
He sees them, she knows he does, but he loves them as much as the rest of her.
She holds him tightly to her, heart racing inside her chest, her cheeks flushed with need. Her lips press together, her teeth bite into her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as she tilts her hips to get what she needs, letting herself peak as he continues to whisper to her.
After the first few blissful moments, words cease to make sense, and she silences him by pressing her mouth firmly against his, stealing the air from his lungs as her lips part against his.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
( nothing matters but her, the sensations overwhelming between them, the hitch of her breath, the scent of her skin, the heat of her blood high on her cheeks. he clutches her just as she clings for him, the firm insistence in her embrace returned and shared. he isn't going anywhere. (he's never been anywhere else but for her.) she isn't; the intensity in which he murmurs to her and the ardor in which he drinks her in is in want and devotion of that.
she doesn't only want him. she knows him, and wants him.
she knows this. she wants this. he surrenders.
when she comes he feels it in the fever of her body slotted against his, the bite of her nails in his skin. she undoes him. he drives his hips relentlessly down into hers, presses her deep into the mattress, groaning into her kiss as the cresting waves of his release follow hers. his breath is heavy; his hands run up and down her side. one moment floods and blends into the next; the surge of his body slows but does not halt. the sweat cools and builds on his skin; he grabs at her and rolls beneath her, one hand cradling her neck, the other smoothing down her chest and around her hips.
hybrid stamina)
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[Her chest rises and falls above his. Her body curves into the path of his palm down her skin, which is damp with sweat beneath his palm. She shivers once at the cool air brushing over her back now that it's no longer warmed by the mattress, her hips rolling against his slowly as his hands pass over her hips.
Her breath comes quickly, keeping up with the quick beat of her hear more so than any actual fatigue. She could do this for hours, lose herself in him until she couldn't tell where he ended and she began, and she wouldn't find cause to complain.
If anything, she'd think of it as making up for lost time.
Her forehead presses against his as she continues to catch her breath, eyelashes flicking open as she looks at him with eyes that see nothing else in the moment before they close again, head tilting so that she can fit her lips against his with feverish pressure.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
He knows this. He's dealt with it from her more than enough times.
He pulls back to look at her, and her expression is vulnerable, as if she's afraid he'll say no. It only hurt more to know that she turned him away when he likely felt the way she does now.]
I just...I watched you practically die and I can't stop thinking about it.
[She feels like she needs to explain, to prove that she's not just doing this for him.]
If you left tomorrow, I'd regret it if I'd kept doing what I'm doing.
[She needs to make her decisions based on the now and not what might happen. She can live with that, no matter what happens later.]
So if you want to be, then I'm here. I don't want to waste time anymore.
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
her confession strikes true, and the dealt blow of it is clear on his face: he did not consider her worry for him. he does not consider anyone's worry for him, from perceived indifference to the lack of necessity for it. he is immortal, but that is not why this moves him.
it moves him because she cares. (she cares like so few do.) it moves him to stunned silence, his breath held in exquisite anticipation as the rest of her confession falls from her lips, because it means she wants. she wants more. she wants again. this is a blow, because it takes him a moment of incomprehension to understand, to believe —
he shifts on his feet once in his uncertainty.
then there is nothing left to say. his hand reaches to cradle her face; his lips fit with tender and firm passion to hers. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
She could lose anyone, at any time.
At first, that made staying away seem like the safer option, but Caroline needed people. She needed friends and love and company to be happy. Isolating herself would only make her angrier, and she couldn't fathom the thought of doing it just to save herself some heartache in the future.
That would happen. It was inevitable. Nothing could have saved her mother and nothing was going to prevent what might happen in the future, regardless of how they tried to fight whatever might come their way.
She was selfish. She hadn't wanted to have this conversation now, when his wounds were so fresh from his loss, but she hadn't been able to help herself now that she was here, wrapped up and feeling a warmth she'd resisted for too long because she'd been afraid.
The press of his hand against her cheek is less surprising that the sudden pressure of his lips against hers, but it feels as good as it always has, and she finds herself unable to fight the urge to stop. She doesn't want to, even if hiding pain in comfort might not be the best course of action. If he wants, then so does she, and she proves it in the way she responds, pulse racing and lips turning up against his mouth.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
he wants her.
he needs this, as he's needed it all these months. as he's yearned and longed for, as he's weathered in absence. if that is selfishness then so be it, but he doesn't consider selfishness for a moment.
all he considers is her lips, turned to his. the wild, tender need spiraling out of control, feeling her racing heartbeat so close to his. her body, pliant and perfect as he presses her close by the cut of her waist. he turns her inside and reaches blindly to shut the door behind them. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
Her lips grin again as he turns her into the room, hears the door shut rapidly a moment later, her body curving into his and her arms slipping further around his neck to keep her balance. Those same lips part gently, the whole movement so familiar to her that suddenly it seems like very little time has passed at all.
He tastes exactly like she remembers.
Her arms loosen around him, hands dragging over shoulders and then down between them to reach for the hem of her shirt. Her lips part from his reluctantly, though only so she can drag the thin fabric over her head and toss it aside.
If this right here isn't the biggest fuck you to Wonderland right now, I don't know what is.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull;
his heart is pounding and pounding harder still as his eyes open slowly to see her smile and bare her skin.
it's the joy in her grin that electrifies him. that brings him to life. that reflects his own elation, so stark and bittersweet, mingling with the low of devastation crowding his heart. he takes it. he embraces it. he rushes forward, pushing her to the edge of the bed. his hands grasp the waist of her skirt and he tears it in half.
he grabs behind her thighs and lifts her up, coaxing her legs around him, as they've been dozens of times before. his eyes are full of heat, of wickedness, of love and promise as his palms slide up from her thighs to her back. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; THIS IS PROBABLY ABOUT TO GET NSFW
Her hands fist into the fabric laying against his back, slipping it up until she can grasp the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head, her skin aching with the need to feel his against it.
There's a strange exhilaration in her eyes, as if her confession took some immense weight off her shoulders. She's as relieved to be here in this moment as he is, any fears or concerns dashed by the action of making her choices and knowing they're the right ones for her.
Her hand slides over the back of his neck, pulling him into her, the intensity of her kiss speaking volumes about how much she's been holding back, how it's been welling up inside her, how it was only a matter of time before it spilled out.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW INCOMING
she should really expect destruction at this point. order two of everything from the closets?she sheds his shirt. it's discarded with all haste; he needs the feel of her skin just as she. he needs the softness of her and the solidity of her against him. his hands span her waist, the light in his eyes ignited by the same in hers: it's content. passion. that same uncoiling relief. when she pulls him into her, her sweet mouth finding his, he meets her with a moan.
his fingers dig into her skin. he savor and revels and cherishes that desire of hers, pushing and pulling at him. he falls into it with abandon, his kiss just as hungry, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile that fades only as the pleasure overcomes all other sensations but bursts of joy and want.
his hands clutch and caress her. he groans into the heat of her kiss and spin them around, sitting at the edge of the bed and tugging her hips into his, her into his lap. his heart races; he pulls from her mouth to press his lips and tongue to the hollow of her neck. his palms finds the curve of her shoulder, the strap of her bra to fist in his hand and draw into down. his lips and teeth and tongue find the peak of her breast beneath fabric. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW INCOMING
Just because she expects it doesn't mean she has to like it, sir. But let's be real, she's clearly not that pressed.His fingers press and leave their marks. She sucks air through her teeth even through her kiss, the pressure of his hands against her skin feels like home. Another quick spin and she's straddling him, sinking onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. Her palms carve a path up his chest as his lips part from hers, then run up the sides of his neck and into his hair as his teeth and tongue do their work.
Her hips shift against his, her head gently falls back with a contented sigh, long blonde locks brushing over her shoulder blades.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
a breathy hum rumbles in his chest as her hips implore friction against his. (that's what he wants; he wants that.) he turns his head, bites the soft mound of her other breast and pulls her negligée down with coaxing force; it slips away beneath his mouth, already open and wet above her nipple.
she feels like home. she also feels like water to his parched throat; he's desperate for her. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
She doesn't think he'll resist.
Her arms reach behind her, undoing the clasp on her bra and discarding it before he leans forward, her now bare torso brushing against his. One hand falls flat against the mattress above his shoulder, the other slipping between them to tug impatiently at his belt.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
he buries her fingers in her hair, savoring the softness of her cheek and the shape of her face cradled in his palm before delighting in the silk of those locks he reveres so much. his skin sings for hers; he arcs slightly at the brush of her body, heats and melts at the slide of her hand. klaus does nothing but aid her endeavor, helping her undo his belt and shuck his jeans down his hips. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
Good enough.
She grins wickedly as she leans in again, reclaiming his mouth as she rolls to the side, calf slipping around his hip and dragging him with her until they're laying side by side. Her heel presses into his lower back, pulling him closer. Her arms encircle his neck as her torso presses firmly against his.
Each of her movements is demanding, insatiable, as if she's trying to physically destroy any remaining distance placed between them by Wonderland's meddling.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
and he groans, face flushing hot, heart racing at the friction and pleasure of her, from the wet, tender heat of their kiss to his hard arousal pressed between them. his arm, wedged beneath her, squeezes her impossibly closer, needy as his hips roll. his other hand maps a path up her thigh, from her hip to the curve of her spine to the nape of her neck. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
[His name spills from her mouth as she inhales a quick breath against his mouth, the touch of his hand drifting over the length of her body sending a ripple down her spine. He's so close, but it's not enough; she wants more, she needs it.
Her leg shifts even further up, over his hip bone, before an impatient hand slips between them, her abdomen tensing to create just enough room to reach lower, fingers wrapping around to stroke him a few times before she guides him between her parted thighs, pressing the tip against her entrance.
She draws her mouth away from his, opens her eyes to look at him. Her breath shudders once in anticipation, her gaze holding his with hooded eyes holding a mixture of emotion and lust.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
she leads him to the wet, promising heat of her and he shudders and heats. his hand presses to her hip; his other takes her wrist to guide it around his neck. his eyes are open too, depthless and ardent, tender and lustful both. he presses them together, slow and seamless: sinking her onto him as much as he meets her. this is what she wanted. what he wants. he wraps her up close, forehead to forehead, chest to chest, and gives to her impatience just as he draws their desire out. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
Her forehead presses harder against his as her lips press together then, stifling a groan that she firmly silences as she presses her mouth to his. The kiss is needy but doesn't last long before she's breaking her mouth away, her breathing heavy despite their relative stillness.]
I missed you.
[She missed this, a fact that she had tried to hide from as if it were wrong to seek this comfort in the midst of her grief. She wanted to miss this for the right reasons, not just because she was alone.
She does. She did. He should know.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
his eyes open slow after their kiss. she breathes, i missed you and he shivers again with awe and with need. he holds her tighter, tangling his fingers impossibly deeper in her hair, his fist tugging gently at the root. his body presses to her in a slow surge, his breath quiet and ragged against hers.
she missed him. he knows. he knows this is right; he sees it in her eyes. he feels his own, filling his heart. he suffered that lack just as she: feeling that empty space, that empty quiet, that piece of rightness taken away. his lips bush her cheek; his eyes stay on hers. ) Every moment, without you, ( he whispers. it's a promise. an oath. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
She decides she'd rather cling to the first.
Her thigh and calf tense at his hip, in some futile attempt to somehow draw him closer as she exhales another desperate sigh, contenting herself with leaning in to kiss that mouth that says the things that hit her deep inside her chest, fill her heart and lungs to bursting. Her hands grasp at his back, fingers pressing into his skin as she clings to him, head tilting as her lips part, hungrier this time.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
he doesn't believe he's shared in or experienced anything more beautiful or heart-aching, but he embraces the former and releases the latter just as she.
he is tense with pleasure. the stillness and slight shifts of their bodies, the touch and hunger of her mouth, the tightening of her leg around him pressing him to the brink. he does not fall over. at the last moment he finds a reserve of calm. he kisses her with fierce, tender strength edged with heat; he kisses her until he cannot kiss her anymore. until his blood is pulsing like thunder and he is aching inside of her. he smooths her hair back. his eyes open. he looks at her in the stillness of the moment, before her begins to rock into her. )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
Her body constricts around him, seeking friction. She wants to feel every inch of his skin, which she explores with roaming hands, palms smoothing over his shoulders, up the back of his neck, down his spine.
She rolls onto her back then, pulling him with her, longing for the press of his weight above. Her legs encircle his waist, ankles hooking at his lower back as her hips rise to meet him, to let him bury himself as deeply as he pleases.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
it's not enough. it never is, and when she beckons him atop her, her legs parting around him, the depths in which he slides into her is sweet, blinding relief. he groans, breathless, the endearment of sweetheart a rumble in his throat. he does bury himself as deeply as he pleases; he could hardly assuage nor censor himself. he covers her with his body, the flush high on his cheeks as he rocks ceaselessly into her. and he whispers against her lips, his fingertips running from her hair down to her shoulder, up to her pulse —
and he whispers. he whispers everythings: about the beauty of her like this, about what she wants, what she likes, about how he wants her, about how she is everything filling the spaces of a thousand years — )
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
He sees them, she knows he does, but he loves them as much as the rest of her.
She holds him tightly to her, heart racing inside her chest, her cheeks flushed with need. Her lips press together, her teeth bite into her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as she tilts her hips to get what she needs, letting herself peak as he continues to whisper to her.
After the first few blissful moments, words cease to make sense, and she silences him by pressing her mouth firmly against his, stealing the air from his lungs as her lips part against his.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
she doesn't only want him. she knows him, and wants him.
she knows this. she wants this. he surrenders.
when she comes he feels it in the fever of her body slotted against his, the bite of her nails in his skin. she undoes him. he drives his hips relentlessly down into hers, presses her deep into the mattress, groaning into her kiss as the cresting waves of his release follow hers. his breath is heavy; his hands run up and down her side. one moment floods and blends into the next; the surge of his body slows but does not halt. the sweat cools and builds on his skin; he grabs at her and rolls beneath her, one hand cradling her neck, the other smoothing down her chest and around her hips.
hybrid stamina)bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
Her breath comes quickly, keeping up with the quick beat of her hear more so than any actual fatigue. She could do this for hours, lose herself in him until she couldn't tell where he ended and she began, and she wouldn't find cause to complain.
If anything, she'd think of it as making up for lost time.
Her forehead presses against his as she continues to catch her breath, eyelashes flicking open as she looks at him with eyes that see nothing else in the moment before they close again, head tilting so that she can fit her lips against his with feverish pressure.]
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW
bleary eyed and beautiful but your blade is not dull; NSFW