Juke Joint Jezebel

In which Caroline sings for the crowd and later, sings for Klaus.

It's been a while since I've written a Klaroline drabble, so I thought I'd continue on with my giant list of drabbles to do. Here's a 1920s Mob AU, because I'm having Peaky Blinders fantasies and TVD did set us up for this. austennerdita2533, was it you with whom I was talking about writing a Peaky Blinders AU? If so, I may have inadvertently written you a drabble.

Warnings: sexual content, language, violence.

Caroline's voice falters when she sees him enter, but she quickly averts her eyes when he smirks in her direction. She continues to sing, her low, dulcet voice crooning through the air as the couples below her dance, pressed together, hands all over each other in a way that ten years ago would've received stern looks of disapproval.

He takes his customary seat in one of the booths, quickly joined by his brothers and cronies, and orders a tumbler of scotch as he usually does. He sips from it, gracefully, all the while not taking his eyes off her as she sings.

He loves it when she sings.

He especially loves it when she's singing his name with his mouth between her legs in her dressing room.

She feels that itch under her skin and she's eager to finish her last song, so she can sit on his lap and drink the night away.

And if his eyes are anything to go by, he wants the same thing.

The crowd claps for her when she's finished. Half of them only come down here for the booze and her tunes. She gives a little bow and a winning smile, and she can see hearts melt in the eyes of the men that think she's for sale once she's finishing singing. They'll try and buy her a drink, get her to dance for them, slip their hands real low and hope she's no prude and willing for a good time.

Of course, Klaus doesn't like it when other men touch her, so those men will be taken out back, behind the club, where one of Klaus' boys will shoot him in the head and the world will have one less dewdropper to worry about.

She glides down the stairs, the beads on her dress clinking as she does. She swipes a Sidecar from the bar and makes her way to Klaus, who holds out a hand when he sees her approach. His boys quickly stumble out of the booth to make way for her (Klaus doesn't like it when his boys don't show his moll respect). She sits primly on his lap before his legs widen and she sinks into him.

"Hello, love," Klaus kisses her on the cheek, smoothly.

"Hey, baby," Caroline purrs, leaning back into his touch. "Didja like my song?"

Klaus chuckles lowly in her ear, making her shiver. "You know I did. You gonna sing for me like that later?"

Caroline hides her sly smile and looks at him through her eyelashes. Instead of replying, she slides a hand up the inside of his thigh, through his slacks, until she's shamelessly palming his cock, as it hardens in her hand.

"Why later?" She asks, pointedly.

Klaus grips her wrist, not too tight, but not too loose either. But he doesn't pull her hand away. Rather, he juts his hips upwards, his movement hidden by the tablecloth and his boys determinedly looking away (the last one, who had been caught looking at Caroline and Klaus had his legs broken while Caroline went to the bathroom and when she asked him what had happened, he told her he looked at me funny).

"You want to go to your room, doll?" Klaus asks, knowingly.

"You gonna make it worth my while?" Caroline teases.

Klaus tugs at the hem of her dress and pats her on the knee, urging her to slide to her feet. The boys slide out of the booth, knowing what their boss wants, and they slip out. Caroline takes his hand and leads him through the crowds of people. They split in the middle, seeing Klaus – he already has a pretty bad reputation in Chicago – they know how many people he's bumped off for looking at him the wrong way. And getting between him and his dame, well, that's just asking for trouble they didn't need.

But when Caroline turns to him, that stern gaze he was sporting flounders and he looks at her like she's everything good in his world.

Her back hits the wall with a smack and she knows that she'll have bruises there tomorrow, but she'll touch them then and smile. Klaus crowds her into the wall, his hands sliding up her thighs, up her dress, until his palms are spanning the lean bones of her hips.

He hikes her up the wall suddenly and her legs wrap around his hips before she slips down with nothing to hold onto. She grips at his shoulders, her nails digging in, and clutches at him with her thighs. He doesn't even bother taking her dress off. He simply pets at her silk knickers until he can pull them down her thighs, briefly letting her legs slide to the floor. Her heels scrape against the linoleum, but she doesn't fear that he'll drop her.

Her knickers end up in a puddle on the floor beside them. She slides her hands up his thighs, over his slacks, until she's pawing at the buttons. She deftly unfastens the buttons until she can slide her hand inside without leaving one of those red-ring marks on her wrist that would tell everyone and anyone exactly what she had been doing and whom she'd be doing it with. Mr Lockwood didn't much care for what his singers did on their downtime, but he didn't like the police coming around the place, especially with all their bootleg on display. And Caroline spending time with Niklaus Mikaelson, the big shot here in Chicago, well, that would bring the police straight here.

After all, it was Klaus, who was pushing almost all the bootleg in the city. The police would love to put him behind bars, even if he was a silk hat, and they'd use her to do it.

And she liked Klaus, she really did, maybe she even loved him, but she wasn't stupid enough to go to jail for him. Those Mikaelsons only looked after their own, and without a ring on her finger (it wasn't like he hadn't asked, but Mr Lockwood wouldn't keep her on if she had a ring to show him – part of the reason why he'd hired her was for all the men who came in after her), she'd be out in the cold.

She palms his cock, unrepentantly. Klaus takes in a sharp breath and pushes his hips forward.

"You're asking for trouble, sweetheart," Klaus says, roughly.

She leans in, her mouth all red. "You know I like trouble, baby." She croons.

Klaus scowls at her teasing and cups between her legs deliberately. Caroline gasps and Klaus grins, and she suddenly has the urge to cuff him upside the head. She lets herself fall back against the wall as his fingers dip inside her, hot and slick, thrumming a rhythm that has her beating her against the plaster.

She comes sharp and quick around his fingers, clenching desperately. He withdraws his fingers, licks them clean, enamoured by her blush – it never fails to amaze her just how lewd he can be. As if reading her mind, he kneels down (sometimes, she's even stunned he knows how to kneel – he always seems so unconquerable – although, not by her). He rolls up her dress and taps her hand, wordlessly asking her to hold her dress by her hips. He hooks one of her smooth, pale legs over her shoulder, seamlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all. He presses a single kiss to her inner thigh before he opens up her cunt to his mouth, licking into her.

Caroline wants to tug at his hair, but she knows that if she messes with his pomade, it will make him cross, so she dutifully keeps her hands fisted in her dress. She knows that's not a good idea either (while theirs is not the best-kept secret by any means, they shouldn't rock the boat too much by coming out looking as if Klaus had fucked her into the wall), but she needs to hold onto something or she'll start screaming bloody murder.

Within moments, he's bringing her to another orgasm. He knows her body well, after years of practice, and he knows just what to do to get her going. She shudders through her end and smooths her hand across his hair in thanks. He slips her leg over his shoulder, back down to the floor, but she still feels like jelly, so he holds onto her until the trembling ceases.

"Do you want more? Or should we end it here?" Klaus asks her, lowly, brushing his mouth against her neck.

Caroline considers it for a moment. They don't have too long before their absence starts to look strange. Sure, his boys know where they are, but the other girls would show up soon, looking for her, and wouldn't it be a laugh if they found her like this, with the most dangerous man in Chicago wrapped around her like an octopus. Elena and Bonnie don't exactly know that she's carrying a torch for a gangster and they'll be a pain in her neck until they can convince her to break it off with him.

But then again, his hands are warm, and her cunt is still throbbing pleasantly from where he had licked her out.

And she wants more.

She nods and deliberately hikes up her dress so that he can fix his gaze on her cunt – he likes it when she exposes herself like that, so different from all those bluenose types that bat their eyelashes at him, pretending they were so much better than her, who wanted all the fun but none of the messy stuff that came with being a moll (and yes, even with the cervical cap inside her, this is definitely part of the messy stuff).

She stares at him boldly and waits impatiently for him to crowd her in again. He presses her into the wall and she can feel his cock against her now. She parts for him like a sweet, ripe peach, already wet and open from his tongue, and he slides in with so much ease. She clutches at him as if this is new and not the thousandth time they've done this, and he fills her up right to the base of his cock.

She starts to roll her hips in time with his, so that he can't take all the credit for what happens when they're loving up like a bunch of teenagers. He groans low in this throat and she feels him withdraw before pushing back in with a slick sound that should make her blush but doesn't. She tips her head back and lets Klaus do all the work, rocking her hips whenever he gives her enough room to do so.

It doesn't take much time to bring her to her climax. It pitches right through her like a blow to the stomach, spreading right to the ends of the ends of her limbs. She shakes and lets the breath fall out of her lungs with a sound, her fingers tightening on Klaus' shoulder. Moments later, Klaus is finishing alongside her, spilling inside her (she thanks God again for that cervical cap she got all hush-hush). She takes a minute or so to catch her breath, patting him on the shoulder in thanks for the second orgasm. He lets her down easy, making sure she can actually stand on those impractical but beautiful heels before letting her waist go.

She walks, albeit shaky, to her vanity, with the glittering mirror, where she quickly checks her face. It's a little sweaty; her hair, thankfully, isn't askew, due to the number of bobby pins holding her waves in place (the first time Klaus had tried to put his paws in her hair, she'd smacked him), and it makes her sigh in frustration. She takes a seat in front of the mirror. She smooths down her hair, where it parts on an angle on the top of her head. It'll hold until she gets home, so she focuses on her makeup. She does her eyes again, until her lashes are dark and long and her blue eyes pop, and she puts a little more red on her lips to make them plump.

Klaus is leaning against the wall when she slides out of her seat, his slacks still unbuttoned, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at her with a smirk. She eyes him pointedly and he rolls his eyes, doing up his slacks so they can sneak out of her dressing room. He pushes off the wall and follows her out of the room, his hand on the small of her back.

They sneak back into the speakeasy, where the music is still ringing loud and people are now dancing the Charleston. It's exuberant enough that no one really notices their arrival, except for Klaus' boys, once they return to their table. Klaus' brother, Kol, waggles his eyebrows like their tryst is the best joke he's heard all day, but he soon concerns himself with the giggles of the girl sitting pretty on his lap. Klaus looks at Caroline, long-sufferingly, and she bites back a snicker.

"Dance with me, love."

It's more of an order than it should be, but she rolls her eyes and takes his hand. She wishes he had thought to ask before the Charleston was over, but she also knows that Klaus wouldn't be caught dead dancing to something so wild (despite his reputation as a gangster and bootlegger, he is a bit of a Grundy type himself). Instead, he leads her into a nice foxtrot that they fall into smoothly. She finds herself smiling despite herself, leaning into his arms. She splays her hand against his shoulder-blade before leaning up to curve it around his shoulder. She tucks his head against his neck, where he's warm, and she's barely paying any attention to their footwork. She ignores the fact that everyone's giving them a giant berth, too scared of Klaus to approach.

They don't have much time before Valerie, Stefan's girl, is tapping her on the shoulder. Her face is blank and painted and she shows no appreciation of Klaus when she informs her that Katherine and Elena are currently getting into a scrap behind the curtains. Caroline sighs and reluctantly extracts herself from Klaus, giving him an apologetic look. She doesn't know when she became the old lady of the group, but all the girls seem to come to her when they have a problem.

It's quite annoying, actually.

"Don't kill anyone, love," Klaus teases, cupping the curve of her hip before letting her go.

Caroline sighs and arches a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at him.

"Why should you have all the fun?"