A/N: Hi! Alright, so this is a fun, light-hearted one that I thoroughly enjoyed writing, but if you're a Camille fan, you might not like this too much, but oh well…just focus on the Klaroline ;P AH College Klaus and Caroline!

Enjoy!

xXx
CeruleanBlues

Bedroom Eyes

Finals were a week away, and Caroline Forbes had been holing herself up in her room, studying diligently like the good little student she was because her scholarship was on the line and she couldn't afford to fuck up. She had fought her mom tooth and nail on UCLA—because Whitmore simply wouldn't do for her—and was adamant to prove her Sheriff of a mother wrong about ever doubting her abilities. Besides, she was class valedictorian; she could've gone to Harvard or Yale if she wanted, but Klaus could be a rather persuasive bastard if he wanted to be.

Her best friend since sophomore year of high school, Niklaus Mikaelson, was quite possibly the bane of her existence, but she owed him a lot through the tough times in her life. When her parents had filed for a divorce and her dad had left for another man, Caroline had been lost for a while. Unconventional as it might be, she had bumped into the school's newest transfer student underneath the bleachers where he had been casually smoking weed and looking like he belonged there. They had struck up a fast friendship—he was a product of his mother's infidelity and was pretty much loathed by his father, so naturally, he was the black sheep of his family—and even though they had conflicting personalities, it had shown on separate occasions that those differences somehow complemented each other.

He was her rock through the bitchiness of nasty, gossip-hungry adolescent girls.

He was her steady pillar of support.

He was the devil on her shoulder and the voice of reason.

He was also knocking incessantly at her door.

"Caroline! Caroline, I fucking hope you're in there!"

She heaved a long-suffering sigh, knowing that Klaus wouldn't leave her alone unless he got what he needed, so she resigned to the fact that her revisions would have to take a momentary backseat, lest she wanted to deal with a broken door and a very angry resident assistant breathing down her neck. Shifting the laptop off her lap, she padded across the room and threw the barrier open, revealing a panic-stricken art major with a handful of blue and yellow streamers in his grip, looking like he would rather be caught in his sister's stilettos than be seen carrying pom poms.

"Just kill me now, Forbes," he growled.

She grinned brightly, highly amused by the intriguing image he painted. "Well, look who finally tried out for the cheerleading squad."

His roguishly handsome face contorted into a scowl, his full lips dropping into a deep frown as he brushed past her and carelessly tossed the offending accessory aside. "Camille is driving me fucking insane," he groused in annoyance and perched himself comfortably on her bed. "She thinks we're not spending enough time together, so she's forcing me to participate in her Spirit Week Committee; wants me to design some banners and posters since I'm an art student and all, but I'm not her bloody minion, am I?"

"Whoa, calm your tits, Klaus," she said, reaching into her mini fridge for two cans of beer. Though she normally didn't drink, Caroline reckoned the situation called for a bit of alcohol. "Look, let me remind you again how a relationship works," she began, albeit with a trace of humor in her voice. "You need to spend time with each other, and because you and Camille are so busy all the time, you will need to compromise. Her bringing you on the committee is her attempt at spending time with you. Don't you think you ought to extend the same courtesy of at least trying to show her that you are doing the same?"

"I do spend time with her!" he rebutted a little too defensively. "But I'm not the one making up lame excuses every time I suggest a quick shag."

Caroline rubbed her fingers across her forehead where she could feel a migraine forming. "It's not all about sex, Klaus. It's about the dating and the getting to know each other and the falling in love that makes a relationship."

He grimaced with a shake of his head. "That sounds like an awful lot of work."

"Look, I can't even begin to count how many girls you've been with throughout the period that I've known you, and honestly, I don't bother keeping track anymore, but Camille is kind of nice—if a little psychoanalytical and paranoid—and for some reason she's stuck on long enough to call you her boyfriend, so I guess that warrants a bit of effort, don't you think?"

"Let me spell this out for you, love," he parried, carefully enunciating each word with that annoying British accent of his. "That girl is fucking insane, and unless you want to visit your best friend in a mental hospital, I suggest you give him a more useful advice than some rubbish you probably don't even believe in."

"Hey!" she protested. "Just because I choose not to go searching for a love story at every corner of the street doesn't mean I'm some bitter old hag. If I'm meant to find it, then I will. You, on the other hand, need some love in your life, Niklaus Mikaelson, and I'll be damned if you don't find it in the form of a bubbly blonde cheerleader puking rainbows and sunshine because it can't possibly get any more lovable than that."

He arched an eyebrow and gradually, his features split into a dimpled smile. "You're a jaded nineteen-year-old, you know that."

"I'm not jaded," she huffed indignantly. "I just think Damon Salvatore and jerks alike should be fed to the lions."

Klaus took a sip of his beer. "That was three years ago, love, let it go."

"All I'm saying is," she continued as if she hadn't heard his remark. "We haven't exactly been lucky in the love department, and I'm probably going to stay out of the whole dating scene for a while—even though I'm most definitely not jaded—but if you have a chance at finding it, then I guess you shouldn't take it for granted."

There was a meaningful look in his striking blue-green orbs; something she hadn't seen for a while since she had first decided she would follow him to California. She found the warmth and the softness that she new he reserved solely for her; their years of heartfelt conversations, the connections and memories all rolled into one.

An urgent rapping on the door jolted the duo out of their reverie.

"Caroline? It's Camille."

Klaus' eyes widened comically as the knockings grew more demanding and impatient, his hands gesturing in a slicing motion across his throat.

"Caroline, are you in there?"

"Yeah, hang on one sec!" she called back. To Klaus, she hissed, "go hide in my closet."

Plastering on the most sickeningly saccharine grin she could muster, Caroline braced herself for the preppy hurricane that was Camille O'Connell in full Bruins regalia and a golden ribbon attached to her ponytail, her arms akimbo. It would've looked about perfect to be on a float, aside from the ill-concealed irritation marring her all-American profile.

"Camille!" she greeted with faux enthusiasm. "What a pleasant surprise! How can I help—"

"Save it, Forbes," the other woman abruptly cut in. "I know Klaus is in there. Where is he?"

Caroline stifled another exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's not here."

"Then why'd you take so long to answer the door?"

All right, that's it. She could deal with jealous girlfriends staking their claim and marking their territory—she had more than her fair share of those just by being remotely associated to Klaus—but she didn't take too well to being interrogated as if she was a low-life criminal.

"I don't owe you an explanation," she retorted. "But please, feel free to have a look if you don't believe me."

Camille turned her nose up almost in disdain before poking her head through the threshold and taking a critical scan of the space. Her hawk-like gaze absorbed every detail, from the organized mess on the study desk to the array of books on the shelves, to the laptop on the rumpled bed, and in a hidden corner, Caroline noticed the strips of blue and gold peeking out from underneath a discarded pair of jeans and impulsively stepped in front of the other girl to block her view.

"Do you believe me now?"

"If you see him could you ask him to give me a call? We're still not done with the banners and posters, and I can't practice without my pom poms."

Caroline nodded. "Will do."

Once the door was slammed shut, she banged on her closet to signal that the coast was clear. Klaus emerged, holding a cherry red bra between his thumb and index finger.

"Is this new?" he mused out loud. "I don't think I've ever seen this one before."

She was supposed to be accustomed to this by now; he had no concept of privacy or personal boundaries whatsoever, and although it was intrusive most of the time, Caroline gave a good-natured scoff and snatched the piece of lingerie out of his possession.

"You better give your girlfriend a call, Klaus. I'm sure she's this close to assembling a search party to go look for you."

Unceremoniously, he flung himself down onto her twin-sized bed, splayed on his back with his arms eagle-spread on either side, miserably staring up at the blank ceiling.

Finally relax my weary limbs, just lay still
The ceiling undulates, the fault of some strange pill

"I can't take it anymore, Care," he groaned. "I'm breaking up with her first thing tomorrow."

Her glorious dream involving both Brad Pitt and George Clooney in a Jacuzzi was rudely interrupted by a cacophony of noises as Klaus barged into her room unannounced and without preamble. Groggily, she registered him shoving the covers down and hopping into bed next to her. Sure, it wasn't the most bizarre thing he had done, but even he knew the consequences of waking her up before the mandatory eight hours of sleep.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she snapped. "Get the hell out of my bed!"

"Now, don't be angry, love, but I desperately need your help," he blurted out, and then began to hastily undress himself, stripping off his Henley and jeans and leaving him in nothing but a pair of navy blue boxers.

"Oh, my God, seriously, Klaus?" she screeched, wide-awake now after watching him intentionally throw his clothes by the entrance. The reality of what he was up to hadn't completely sunk into her hazy, caffeine-deprived mind yet. "Go wank off elsewhere, please, for Pete's sake!"

He choked at the crassness of her words; clearly she was still scarcely coherent enough to filter her thoughts, but when the twinkle in his eyes turned positively impish at her vulgar implications, Caroline shot him a chastising glare and smacked his bicep with the back of her hand.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

"Camille is on the way here."

She was completely unimpressed. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Look, I don't have time to explain right now, sweetheart, but just go with it, alright? Play along, please, I swear, just this once."

Before she could even agree to anything, Klaus had the hem of her flimsy tank top in his grasp and was giving it a hard yank upwards, pulling the fabric over her head in one swift motion. She yelped as cool air hit her unveiled breasts. Purely out of reflex, she grappled with the duvet to shield her modesty and was about to give him a proper tongue lashing for the inappropriate violation when someone began furiously pounding on her door seconds before it flew open to reveal a raging, very pissed off ex-girlfriend.

I see your body in the doorway, so it seems
I must accept my eyes betray these half-dreams

Caroline groaned, running her fingers through her disheveled tresses. If Klaus' relationship drama kept up, she might be forced to move out of the residence hall, what with all the raucous he was creating simply just by existing alone. Perhaps she needed to stop being so involved in his love life. It only ever ended with her achieving little to no sleep at all.

"I knew it!" Camille shrieked. "I knew something was going on between the both of you right from the get-go, but I refused to acknowledge it because you looked me in the eye, Klaus, and swore that you're nothing more than friends. I called your bullshit because I knew that there was no way you believed the crap that came out of your mouth when you're always looking at her the way you do."

Her accusations were barely registering in Caroline's head; it was way too fucking early in the morning.

"I can explain—"

"Don't you fucking dare!" the irate woman fumed. "I should've known you were a lying, cheating bastard! How long has this been going on? How long have the two of you been fucking each other behind my back?"

The shrillness was starting to grate on her nerves; she—and the rest of the occupants on her floor—didn't deserve to be subjected to such blasphemy at an ungodly hour. "It's not like that at all, and I'm not sure what Klaus told you but—"

"I don't want to hear it," the other blonde interjected once again. "Especially from you, Forbes. People think you're this nice person with a pretty face and flawless hair, but you're nothing but a conniving little bitch, aren't you? I'm curious as to whether you seduced him before or after he got together with me—"

"Wait, hold up, I didn't—"

Camille barked out a dry laugh. "Save it. He told me everything, though I just wish he'd have the tact not to do it over a fucking text message. Good riddance, Klaus Mikaelson!"

With a graceful theatrical flare, the cheerleader spun around and trudged noisily down the hallway. Once the footsteps had faded away, Caroline turned to the man still lounging nonchalantly next to her and gave him a forceful shove, almost throwing him off the bed.

"The fuck, Klaus?" she sputtered. "You dumped her via a text message?"

"You have to understand, love, that she was going to make me sprinkle blue glitter on a poster. I had to get out before I found myself in a skirt and a ponytail doing cartwheels in the middle of the football field."

Caroline rolled her eyes, but she reckoned she would've sold her kidneys just to witness it happen. "And why is it so important that she has to think we were having sex?"

"Because I told her I was breaking up with her to be with you, but she obviously thought it was a big fucking joke, and I needed a way to prove to her."

Oh, I need your bedroom eyes
Oh, I need your bedroom eyes

The logic behind it was lost to her. "And you couldn't have thought of something else?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?" he drawled.

"Yeah, okay, whatever," she snorted, burrowing into her duvet as her eyelids began drooping. "I'm going back to bed."

Caroline was out like a light even before her head had hit the pillow.

Oh, I need your bedroom eyes
Oh, I need your bedroom eyes

It was midday when she was eventually roused out of her slumber by the sound of soft snores reverberating against her ear and the feel of hot air fanning across her cheek. Slowly, the haze cleared and she was suddenly aware of the arm slung over her waist and the hardened panes of another body pressed tightly against her back. She shifted and his ever-present layer of scruff scratched against the side of her jaw, squirming slightly as it tickled. The movement caused him to stir.

The hours to the sunrise creep, but I don't care
There is no hope for any sleep if you're not here

Caroline choked back a squeak when she felt the telltale bulge of morning wood prod at the base of her spine, and then froze when his hand slipped involuntarily lower and instinctively cupped her bare breast, the way his palm curved perfectly seemed almost as if it was meant to be there. Her breath hitched in her throat, mouth running dry as she fought against the sudden wave of arousal that crashed through and set her senses ablaze. Heat swirled low in her belly as blood whooshed to her cheeks, and fuck, she was going to blame this on the lack of proper sleep and her tragically sexually deprived state. Sod it, she was going to blame Klaus and his control freak of an ex-girlfriend.

A contented hum rumbled beneath his ribs and unconsciously, Klaus snuggled closer before settling back into his peaceful rest, eliciting a quiet gasp from deep in her chest. Shit, she deeply hoped that he wasn't having some very happy dreams because she didn't think even their rock solid friendship could survive that ordeal.

In another scene, in another bed you're sleeping
So won't you come and visit me when I'm dreaming

"Damn it," she mumbled upon realizing that she was indeed stuck, silently cursing the unfortunate turn of events. Perhaps she ought to just wake him up with as much finesse as he had earlier on.

A memory flashed in her mind; that one instance they had to share a measly motel room due to budget constraints when they had stupidly decided on a spontaneous weekend road trip, and she had wanted to exert revenge on his blanket-hogging ass by screaming bloody murder in his ear. Regrettably, she had ended up with a nasty bruise to her hip for days after when he had kicked her off the bed out of sheer reflex.

Caroline winced, not wanting a repeat of that ugliness.

Plan B it was, then.

"Klaus?" she called out as she tried to wriggle out of his embrace.

Fatal mistake.

Oh, I need your bedroom eyes
Oh, I need your bedroom eyes

He groaned, low and guttural, and held her in place, his arm clamping down on her as he bucked his hips.

"Klaus!"

A dull thud followed suit.

"What the fuck!" came after in an affronted growl, and as Caroline sat upright with her sheets still clutched close, a mussed tuft of dirty blonde curls peeked from the edge of the mattress. A pair of glazed-over eyes blinked at her, brows furrowed in irritation before Klaus climbed back up onto the bed. "Was that completely necessary, love?"

"You were groping me in your sleep!" she screeched. "Your crotch was even rubbing against my ass!"

Shameless, his responding smirk was unrepentant and salacious. "I'm sure you enjoyed that very much, didn't you?"

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, channeling her appall in more ways than one. "If by 'enjoyed' you mean violated, then yes, I enjoyed it very much."

The smugness that colored his features—a telltale sign that he was calling her bluff—had her fidgeting with the edges of the sheet around her torso. "I love how you still think I wouldn't know when you're lying to me. You liked it, didn't you? Come on, just admit it."

Oh, I need your bedroom eyes
Oh, I need your bedroom eyes

Desperately she willed away the blush that was creeping beneath her skin because no, she wasn't some hormonally imbalanced teenager with an inability to control her libido. This beguiling reaction to Klaus' accidental touch was a result of temporary insanity at best. She could just kick him out of her room and then she could be able to attend to her…needs…and they could just move past this like nothing ever happened.

Except, of course, he had to be the typical male and milk it all for what it was worth.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, love," he purred. "My subconscious probably couldn't resist the half-naked girl sleeping so temptingly next to me."

She thwacked his bicep. "Shut up!"

"It's only natural to be aroused when physical skin-on-skin contact occurs between a male and a female—"

"Oh, my God!" she squawked, slapping both hands over her ears. "Okay, stop. No, you did not just recite to me the first sentence on the brochure we had received during Sex Ed class in high school because it's bad enough that—"

Klaus was openly gaping at her now, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped, and it took her a full three seconds to realize that the covers had slipped, succumbing to gravity as it pooled around her waist, and effectively exposing her bare breasts to him. It wasn't until his darkened blue eyes flickered upwards to meet hers did all semblance of rational thought came vaulting back. Her arms automatically folded themselves protectively across her chest, shielding him from further ogling.

He quirked an eyebrow and kept his gaze firmly on hers. His voice, when he spoke next, was nothing short of hypnotic as he uttered one single syllable.

"Don't."

Almost as if she was under his compulsion, Caroline felt the lax in her shoulders as her hands fell limply to her sides, thumping against the mattress. He pinned her with his unwavering stare, a silent command as he studied the maelstrom of poorly disguised expressions dancing upon her features, and then languidly, he allowed his lust-filled eyes to wander southwards. A flush colored her chest, her heart pounding wildly when he paused, transfixed at her twin mounds. Then, very tentatively, almost absentmindedly—as though he had no control over his actions—he lifted a finger and gently ran it down the length of her sternum, his touch feather-like and igniting a series of goose bumps in its wake, before trailing back north to outline the curve of her left breast.

I fear that I'll never sleep again
I fear that I'll never sleep again

"Klaus…"

He blinked.

"Apologies, love," he told her huskily. "I just can't help myself right now. Fuck, Caroline, you feel so soft."

"Didn't take you for a boob sort of guy," she quipped back shakily in an attempt to lighten the mood.

The humor danced in his cerulean orbs. "I'm a genuine beauty sort of guy."

Caroline scrunched her nose in mock disdain. "That's laying it on a little too thick, Klaus. I'm already practically naked and in bed, so really—oh!"

His mouth latched onto her nipple, greedily suckling, his tongue dexterously swirling it into a peak, and this was all going too fast too soon; too much. The lines of their friendship had officially blurred, black and white intermingling into shades of grey that frightened and excited her all at the same time. She tried to imagine what it would mean for them now—the fate of their relationship—but it was getting increasingly more difficult with the way he was meticulously peppering kisses across her collarbone, each one a calculative placement to evoke the most pleasure. Her fingers wove into his curls, spurring him on to continue in his ministrations as whispers of his name and soft muttering of curses spewed from her lips. When he began bestowing his own brand of worship unto her neglected breast, Caroline could do nothing more than arch into him with quiet cry.

"Oh, God…" she moaned. "Oh, that feels so good…"

He released her with a loud smacking sound and immediately sought out the expanse of flesh yet to be intimately discovered.

"You taste exquisite, love," he murmured against the column of her neck. "Fuck, I've been aching to do this for years."

She tugged on his hair to search his face. "You have?"

His eyes shone in adoration and awe. "You have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are, do you? No clue how you continuously test my morals and self-restraints every single bloody day."

"But all those other girls—Camille, Hayley, Aurora—"

"Didn't fuck any of them."

She failed to mask the shock of his confession. "Why didn't you—"

Playfully, he nipped at the juncture of her shoulder. "Honestly, sweetheart. We can get into this right now and quite possibly end up in a heated row whereby we'll finish it off with me fucking you, or we can spare ourselves the heavy talk, save it for later, and I'll fuck you anyway," he propositioned in an uncannily animated way. With a sinfully devilish grin, he dipped a hand beneath the waistband of her knickers and slid a finger into her dampened folds, teasing her short of where she was perilously throbbing with desire. "Your choice."

"Okay," she grated out, and then sharply sucked in a lungful of air when Klaus abruptly sank two digits into her drenched core.

"Okay?"

Damn, it had been a while—the intrusion feeling slightly foreign, albeit not unwelcoming—and she couldn't stop the low hum of delight as her muscles clenched and unclenched around his long, artistic fingers. Her grip on the base of his skull tightened when he began stroking her inner walls with unhurried precision—with the same attention to detail he would bestow on a painting—and when he crooked them just so, hitting a spot she hadn't known existed, Caroline found her world shattering into a million pieces.

Chest heaving and vision covered in bright spots, Caroline blissfully drifted back down from the heights of her ecstasy to witness Klaus' soiled digits disappear into his mouth, cheeks hollowed to suck them clean.

"Scrumptious."

She lunged at him, using the force of her weight to drive him into the mattress, and with him sprawled on his back, completely caught off guard, Caroline smiled wickedly at him before slinging one toned leg over his lean torso and straddling his tapered hips. Bracing herself with outstretched palms on either side of his head, she leaned forward, golden waves cascading down in a curtain around their faces, their noses barely a fraction of an inch apart.

"I believe you mentioned something about fucking me?" she quipped cheekily.

He nodded. "That I did."

"So, why are you still in your boxers?"

The offending piece of article was off in a flash, and before Caroline could spout another witty remark regarding his startling efficiency, Klaus had taken his stiff erection in hand, and in one swift upward thrust, buried his engorged member into the sweet cavern of her body. Synchronized gasps echoed wantonly off the walls, and she couldn't remember the last time she had ever felt so full, so completely ensconced in someone else; it was devastating how they hadn't done this sooner.

"Fuck, Caroline…" he grunted when she began rocking her hips experimentally, his fingers digging into her flesh as he guided her movements. Back and forth, in a steady rhythm, she ground into him until she was nothing more than a writhing mess.

"Klaus…" she panted. "Klaus, I think I'm going to…"

"Me too, love."

"So could you just…"

A split second later, Caroline found herself flat on her back, spread out and wound tight while he crowded her with his lithe and lean frame, hovering slightly before he once again captured her lips in an ardent kiss. Her world spun; already teetering precariously on the edge, her control now hanging by a fragile thread, and her needy whimper was all Klaus needed to grab onto her thigh, hitch the leg over his shoulder and plunge back in. Without pause, he began an urgent pace—shallow with little to no finesse—pounding relentlessly with a single-minded determination, that it was near impossible to do anything else but helplessly cling onto him.

Oh, I need your bedroom eyes
Oh, I need your bedroom eyes

"Shit, Caroline…I can't…I need you to come with me."

"Okay," she rasped.

His thumb found her bundle of nerves, triggering her release with a precise flick of his wrist, and fuck it if the entire campus knew that Klaus Mikaelson was shagging her senseless because she couldn't give a damn. Tremors wrecked through her system, igniting every nerve ending ablaze as he followed suit soon after.

She loved the way his shudders reverberated through her bones; loved the way he sighed in contentment into the crook of her neck, their satiated bodies pressed together, still thrumming with remnants of their coupling, a layer of sheen coating their flushed skin. Dropping a chaste peck to his dampened curls, Caroline allowed herself the luxury of basking in the afterglow—a rare occurrence for her—and listened to the way his breathing evened out until she was positive he had drifted off.

But then the door flew open and a feminine shriek ruptured the peaceful silence.

A very familiar blonde female stood, visibly traumatized in the threshold.

"Oh, my eyes!" she cried out, reeling back into the hallway. "My poor bleeding eyes!"

"Shit, Bekah!" Caroline snatched the covers up the same instant Klaus jolted awake at the utterly unexpected voice of his baby sister. He tripped over his feet jumping out of bed, limbs tangling in the sheets and simultaneously pulling it with him as he went tumbling onto the carpet. For what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, she was robbed of her modesty. With nothing to conceal her blatant nakedness, Caroline reached for the nearest pillow and arranged it to the best of her abilities.

"I would congratulate you two on finally getting over yourselves and resolving the suffocating sexual tension, but I think I'm too emotionally scarred right now."

"It's your brother's fault, really," Caroline groused. "He broke up with Camille."

Rebekah Mikaelson wore a smirk so eerily similar to that of her brother's and folded her arms across her chest, looking all too pleased at the news.

"Well, it's about bloody time, Nik."

A/N: The End! LOL! That was seriously a hoot to write!

Song used: "Bedroom Eyes" by Dum Dum Girls