begin at the end

When they're spent, Klaus helps her back into her clothes and zips her jacket up over her ripped shirt with apologetic smile.

Caroline rolls her eyes, stepping closer to him. She wraps her hand in his shirt, pulls him against her. Can't take him being so far from her after they'd just been so close. She lays her ear against his chest over his heart, imagines she can hear it thump for her. It surprises her how easy this is, to just melt into him. His pleased and wistful mood is contagious. She can't remember a time she'd seen him smile so wide.

It's moments like this, when he's more than just a blood soaked silver tongued villain, that make her wish things were different.

His fingers pull her chin up to look at him and he wipes a smudge of mascara from her cheek. She's sure she looks a mess; dirt streaked across her skin and twigs knotted in her hair. Being with him had been everything she'd imagined it would be: wild but tender, grasping hands, almost loving. Cold earth on her skin and leaves crunching under her back as he whispered how he'd worship her into her neck, tongue pressing the words into her skin lest she forget that it's all for her. Her name a mantra on his lips.

He was such a dick; holding back the fire and blood and inviting her to Paris and showing her mercy he'd never shown anyone else. He's under her skin. Inside her skin. We're the same, Caroline.

Klaus looks up at the sky then, his thumb still sliding down her cheek. "Your confession ran a bit long," he says, his grin suggestive. He's stalling, conflicted, he doesn't know how to say goodbye. She doesn't either, doesn't really want to. She's split down the middle; half here with him, half back at the Salvatore house.

"A little bit." She says softly, turning her face into his palm. He smells like earth and wild animal and a hint of leather. The sky has darkened around them, trees casting shadows like twisted arms across the clearing. Her stomach clenches as she prepares herself for the after, the inevitable parting. They're suspended in time here, the forest protecting them from prying eyes and judgement. Not that he cared a bit about that. It was just her—too good girl to let everyone else see what she felt for him. Almost too good girl to even admit it to herself—almost.

His frustration and need for something, anything from her had been the thing to do her in. Consequences be damned, let the pieces fall where they may. She had searched his eyes before going in for the kiss and all she had found there was adoration and need. She had never taken him for a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy, but here he was, showing her his insides and begging her to stitch him back up. And maybe a part of her had almost been afraid; afraid to touch him, afraid to regret not touching him, afraid that if she didn't give him a piece of herself now he would move on and forget her.

Throwing herself in uncertainty and sin had never felt so good. She searches inside herself for an ounce of regret for what they'd just done, the line she's crossed. She finds none.

She could stay here with him forever, abandon everything she's always thought she wanted. Maybe she wasn't so sure about everything—him, her, them—after all. All she knows is it feels even more unfinished than before. He would sweep her away, make her a queen, all she had to do was ask. He would give her the entire world, he would never turn his back. He would never make her beg; love me more than you hate him.

"Love?" He says, questioning. She wipes her face clean, can't let him know she needs him anymore than she already has. His voice brings her back to the present, the sun setting on their moment. Her friends would be wondering what was taking her so long.

"Goodbye." She says in answer, soft. She can feel the hollowness of the word as it falls between them. They weren't done. He would never let her be done, not after today. He surges forward, realizing this is it, hands in her hair and on her face and skimming her hips. She closes her eyes, lets him ravish her one last time. This kiss is the clink of teeth and don't forget me, don't forget this.

As if she ever could. The fire burns too deep in her bones. It was too good, too dangerous—and nobody has ever held her like this, loved her like this. With longing and an eagerness. Like something to be protected, coveted. A treasure.

How was she supposed to ever completely turn her back on a man like this?

His eyes catalog her face as he pulls back, and she wants to laugh. As if he hasn't traced her face in sketchbooks and memorized every detail.

"Not quite." His voice is tender, his smile all teeth. He had promised he'd wait however long it takes, after all.

His forehead rests against hers for just a moment. Does he know—does he understand—just how much he makes her question everything? She thinks he might, the way he looks at her now. Hopeful. She reaches up to touch his face, tentative even after he's fucked her against a tree and made her cum so hard she saw stars. He's gone before she can feel the scratch of his stubble on her fingertips.

Caroline leaves him there in the clearing (that was the deal, right?) when she turns to trek back through the woods.

(But she takes him with her, too)

Caroline returns to the Salvatore house, hopes her friends won't notice the after sex glow and the spring in her step. When she enters and looks at Tyler, she sees something dead and long buried. She picks a leaf from her hair, pretends she's not already missing how Klaus twists her up inside.

The good and the bad. Monster and man.