A/N Stefan/Klaus, because there was no way I couldn't write this after 2x22.

Rating: M

Warnings: slash. bloodplay. violence

Disclaimer: I own nothing

A huge thank you to my amazing friend nondescriptf for the beta and encouragement, even though she doesn't like vampires. you rock, nonnie.

What have you done? The smell of blood is heavy in the air, the sickly sweet tang overpowering. It's soaking his clothes, slick on his lips and covering his throat; so thick he's choking on it. What did you do? So much blood. Get it off. Bodies are scattered across the floor like life-sized ragdolls. Lifeless eyes staring unseeingly into nothing. You killed them. Everyone. They're all dead, because of you. You killed them. The echoes of their screams and pained moans still ring in his ears. The sounds of bones breaking, skin tearing, drowning out everything else. You're a murderer. A monster. You should have said no. Nonononono. You killed them. Monster. All of them. Dead. You had to save him. You had to save your brother. Damon. Damondamondamon. You owed him. Needed him. You needed him to live. Damon. You needed Damon to live. You had no choice. Have no choice. He will kill them. Both of them. Everyone. You killed everyone. You're a murderer. Elena –

No.

He flips the mental switch effortlessly, and numbness covers his insides like a leaded blanket. The heady sense of power remains; filling him up until he's vibrating with the intensity of it. Yes. This is the way it's supposed to be; he can feel it right down to his core. He was made for this. The cries of protest at the back of his head are nothing but a distant murmur now, all too easy to ignore with the rich amount of human blood in his veins.

Looking out across the old abandoned warehouse – the scene of his latest challenge - he is suddenly on alert. Hearing the faint murmur of a heartbeat, he gets to his feet; relishing in his own speed as he snaps the neck of the girl he accidently left breathing.

Silence.

A slow applause echoes in the room, and he turns around to see Klaus stepping over the threshold. Stefan moves right up next to him, a part of him wanting to show off his speed.

"You nearly didn't notice the girl." Klaus points out. His eyes are dancing with mirth, but there's still a steely note of warning in their depths.

Stefan throws an anxious look over his shoulder at the lifeless body. Her arm is bent awkwardly, obviously broken. "I apologize." He replies, head bowed. "It won't happen again."

"It better not." Klaus murmurs, and the tone of his voice has Stefan daring to meet his eyes. There's an amused smile on the older vampire's face, an appreciative look in his yellowish eyes. He did that. That look of satisfaction on Klaus' face is all because of him, and a wave of pride crashes through his system at the thought.

"You did well, pet." Klaus continues, reaching out to brush a finger across his cheek, and Stefan leans into his touch without thinking. His senses are on alert, his body wired tight and ready to spring. He can feel every ridge of Klaus' fingerprint against his skin, the light touch sends sparks down his spine and makes him shiver. He's hard, cock pressing against the confines of his jeans, and he wants more. Simply wants.

Klaus laughs, low in his throat, and offers his blood-smeared finger. Stefan doesn't hesitate, wrapping his lips around the digit as a raspy moan works its way up his throat.

"Beautiful, and efficient. Such a pleasing combination." Klaus' eyes darken, and he leans in to lick across Stefan's jaw, cleaning off the blood in broad, wet swipes.

Stefan curls his tongue around the finger in his mouth before biting down, hard. He backs the other man into the wall, pressing closer. His forces a leg between Klaus' thighs, shifts his hips and moans as the friction sends a fresh wave of sparks down his spine. A part of him knows he's playing a dangerous game, pushing the boundaries of what the older vampire will allow, but right then it only adds to the thrill. He lets out a soft whine as Klaus pulls back his finger. A sound that is quickly cut off as the limb is replaced by soft, wet tongue licking across his lower lip. With a snarl, Stefan pushes closer, hands grappling for leverage as he struggles to deepen the kiss.

He has no time to react before he's slammed backwards into the stone wall, one arm pressed against his throat. Klaus eyes are nearly illuminant in the dusky room; shifting between amber and gold. Stefan stills in the other man's hold, holding a breath he could easily do without. Dead. You're dead. He's going to kill you.

"So…eager." Klaus chides him with a smile. His lips graze Stefan's earlobe as he speaks, but there's no gush of breath against his skin. The older vampire gave up the pretense of breathing long ago. "I can smell them on you, you know. Inside of you; their blood, running through your veins."

Stefan squirms in the hold, eyes rolling back in his head as their bodies are pressed flush together. He's flying high, dizzy with want, and still it's not enough. "Please,"

"Please what?" Klaus pulls back to look at him, and his gaze drops to his lips. "Don't be shy, Stefan. Say it." The demand is issued harshly, followed by a step back. It leaves too much air between them, and once again daring to move, Stefan arches in Klaus' hold, straining to close the distance between them.

"More." The word comes out in a needy groan. "Anything."

"You're still not satisfied." It's a statement, not a question, and Klaus' smile grows. "Wonderful. We seem to be all out of playthings, I'm afraid, but perhaps we could find another solution to our situation?"

There's a hand rubbing over the bulge in his pants; nails scraping harshly against the denim, in a more than obvious suggestion. "Yes."

"What was that?" Klaus says, repeating the movement.

Stefan bucks mindlessly into the touch, his hips working on their own accord. The arm pressed against his throat is removed. A hand comes up to fist in his hair and tilt his head to the side; exposing his throat. The hand rubbing over his aching erection disappears, but then slips down the front of his jeans and he loses himself as a hand wraps around his steadily leaking cock. He's supposed to say something, there's a question waiting to be answered, but he can't find the words.

"Please." He chokes out the word, watching in a haze as Klaus bites into his own wrist, his head connecting hard with the wall behind him. The smell of it makes his mouth water, and momentarily lifts the fog clouding his mind. He wants this. Anything he can get, he'll take it.

"You really do smell intoxicating," Klaus murmurs against his throat, fangs scraping against the delicate skin, before sinking his fangs into the tendon of his neck. The pain is blinding, the poisonous bite sears his flesh. There are spots darkening his vision, the combined pleasure and pain pushing him closer to the edge.

It's not the first time Klaus has bit him; the Original is still fascinated enough with his own, new nature to experiment regularly. So Stefan is ready when the bleeding wrist is placed next to his mouth, turns his head to the side and leans in to drink eagerly. The flavor is intoxicating, unlike any other, and he moans at the taste. He wants to beg for more, something, anything, but his voice has been reduced to nothing but needy whimpers. His hips rock into the frustratingly slow stroking of his cock. He's close, maddening heat building low in his gut, when Klaus twists his hand, thumb rubbing over the head.

A few strokes later he's coming. For a moment there's nothing but blissful release; he's engulfed in nothingness, every nerve-ending numb. But a wall of white-hot heat blasts through his system and knocks down everything in its wake; tearing down his carefully constructed walls. 'So eager'. 'More'. You did this. You killed them. Murderer. You're a murderer. Elena. They'll never forgive you. Not this. It's too much. Too far. No going back. Never. Never again.

"We're done here. Get rid of the bodies."

Klaus voice sounds distant as Stefan's knees buckle, the concrete wall scraping against his back as he slides down onto the floor. He curls in on himself, gagging on the heavy taste of copper on his tongue. It's too much. The guilt is like a living, breathing thing inside of him and they can't expect him to survive this. Blood everywhere. You killed them. Murderer. You're a murderer. They'll never forgive you. Not this. It's too much. Too far. No going back. Never. Never again. All alone. Alone and you need your brother. Need Damon. Damondamondamon—

Silence.

fin.