"It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a mistake. But, to vampires, life is blood and blood binds."

A/N: Hello, everyone.

Klaus and Caroline are just way too perfect to resist, so, at last, here I am with my first and proper multi-chaptered story about them. It takes its start at the beginning of season five of 'The Vampire Diaries', except the whole plot of 'The Originals' never happened and Klaus only went to New Orleans to deal with Marcel and the witches. The rest, you will have to read to find out. *giggles evilly*

Hope you enjoy,

Giulia.

It's her twentieth birthday and she's spending it alone in some unknown, sleazy bar just outside of Mystic Falls—in Caroline Forbes' book, that's definitely hitting rock bottom.

Sighing, she mindlessly plays with the bright pink straw of her SoCo and Lime, thinking back to how different this very same day had been just one year before, spent with her friends and Tyler–

(–but Tyler was gone now and her friends had never really cared enough about her anyway).

It's not like she wants to play blame and put it all on them—no, she loves Bonnie and Elena, and Matt, and Stefan too—but her whole life she had always tried too hard to fit into a group that she just wasn't meant to be a part of, and she was only now realizing that, maybe, if she had seen a little earlier that you can't choose your friends simply based on how they look or where they stand on the so-called 'social ladder', then her life would be different.

She would still be human (did she even really want that?), and not a vampire. She would probably be having a blast of a birthday party right now, and not trying to suppress the urge to rip into someone's artery and feed on them until she couldn't anymore.

Yes—it definitely wasn't a very good day.

Her teen years were officially over but she would be staying seventeen forever, and it just felt like someone had suddenly dumped a bucket full of freezing cold water on her head, making her realize just how many things were wrong in her life.

And she did miss some things from being human—God, if she did—like dreaming of her two point five kids and white picket fence, but now she was immortal, was she really going to complain? No. She didn't want to play Miss Big Morals anymore—wherever had that gotten her so far? Nowhere—if she was going to live forever, technically able to do whatever she wanted to do—it was time to finally start taking full advantage of that.

Gulping down another moderate sip of her drink, she looks around the little bar, searching for an adequate victim. Caroline herself is not quite sure what she actually means by victim—(she cringes), she doesn't want to become someone's Damon—but she is thirsty for something that certainly isn't alcohol, and badly needs to scratch an itch left unrelieved since far before her and Tyler even broke up.

"This looks oddly familiar," an accented voice that she knows far too well speaks, its owner now sitting on the stool next to hers as if he had been there the whole time.

Caroline turns to look at Klaus, dislike obvious in both her glare and annoyed tone. "What? You stalking me?"

Klaus chuckles lightly, looking at her as intensely as ever. "Me finding you helpless on your birthday."

She scoffs, easily. "If I remember correctly, last time was your fault."

He shrugs. "I did quite good in saving you then, though."

(It doesn't seem half as long, but then is two years ago already).

"Well, I don't need any saving this time," she snaps, going back to nursing her drink.

Klaus arches his eyebrows, skeptically. "If you say so, love. But I can see you definitely need something stronger to quench your hunger," he comments flirtatiously—and, God, can she slap him? Please.

As he effortlessly compels himself a glass of expensive Scotch and her a Sex on the Beach, Caroline takes a minute to fully take in his profile, with his strong and defined jaw and the hints of a stubble making him even more impossibly attractive.

Groaning, she closes her eyes shut—it was so unfair. Klaus was evil and she was supposed to hate him, and yet, there he sat all hot and sexy with that stupid leather jacket of his and all she wanted to do was jump on him and feel—ugh. Bad Caroline, baaad.

Why did the Devil always have to come in such a shiny (ahem, fucking fuckable) packet?

"Something the matter, love?"

Caroline snaps back to the present, her stare focusing onto Klaus', noticing his eyes dancing with obvious amusement.

Warily, she accepts the drink he was offering her–

–offering was a big word, because—compulsion, anyone?—but yeah–

–and ducks her head in the attempt to hide her far from pure thoughts from his scrutinizing gaze.

Why did she always feel like he could read right through her mind?

She can still feel his intense stare on her, making goosebumps rise on her skin—was it fear? Discomfort? Anticipation? (Maybe a combination of the three).

"So, tell me, love," Klaus picks up the conversation again. "How did you end up celebrating your birthday here of all places?" he asks, looking around the small bar in displeasure, but sounding genuinely curious.

Caroline snorts. "Why? Where should I be celebrating it?" Rome, Paris, Tokyo.

"With your so-called friends?" he suggests, and doesn't even try to hide just how much he dislikes those friends.

"Yeah, right. Bonnie's finally back from the dead, which means Elena's only life purpose is once again switching from one Salvatore to another—nobody could care less that it's my birthday," she takes a huge, almost desperate, gulp of her drink. "I'm not sure I do either, to be honest," she adds, almost as an afterthought, but Klaus can see how much it hurts her, really.

He regards her tenderly—not sympathetically or as if she is being pathetic and petty—wondering how anybody could ever have somebody as bright and beautiful as Caroline in their life and not treasure her, not putting everything they could into making her feel important and special. If it were up to him, he knew he would do anything he could to make her feel loved, and he would find a million ways to celebrate the magnificent day that she had been born into this otherwise dark, dull world.

"I care, love," he corrects her with a small but honest smile, so different from his usual overconfident smirks that she has to take in a little breath to steady herself. She is not falling for that.

Back to her bitchy mode after less than a millisecond, Caroline scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Please. Just cut the charade, Klaus. I promise you that we are not working on any plan to kill you at the moment, so there really is nothing that you can possibly want from me."

Klaus' gaze hardens, his dark blue eyes fusing into hers without her consent, making it impossible for her to look away.

"Don't downplay what I feel for you, Caroline," he warns, his jaw ticking. He sounds almost dangerous, something that Caroline is not used to associating with him—and, how stupid is that? He's Klaus. Dangerous is his middle name.

But, really—how is she actually supposed to know that he has never tried to woo anyone before? That he has never fallen for a girl like he has for her right here and right now, never cared for someone outside of his family like he does towards her? How is she supposed to know just how impossibly troubled he is with the fact that she never quite seems to take him seriously on his affections?

Caroline releases a shaky breath that she didn't even know she was holding, finally finding the strength to look away from his consuming stare, although realizing that she doesn't exactly want to.

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. Every time. Why can't you just believe that I'm being genuine with you?" he asks, sounding almost pained, desperate, showing a vulnerability which isn't like him at all, and it's scary. It's scary how different she can see that he is with her, because it's not supposed to be this way. He is not supposed to be this way. Ever. He's the enemy–

–he's incapable of real feelings.

Caroline scoffs, flinching slightly at the hint of hurt that flashes through Klaus' eyes for a second before his mask of indifference is back.

(That, she can handle).

"Are you seriously asking me that?" she snaps again, raising her voice far more than it is polite to in an after all public place. "You're a monster! You've hurt all the people I care about–you've hurt me. You can't even see that is what this little, creepy anniversary of ours is, can you? The first time you saved me from yourself. That's disgusting," she shouts, sprinting up from her barstool with every intention of leaving that grimy place without a glance back.

However, Klaus has other intentions, and is up in front of her in a flash, his gaze hard and menacing.

"Do you honestly think that, love? That I'm just pretending with you? That I'm playing? Do you really believe that I would just let you treat me like a fool time and time again because I need you as a pawn in my master game?" he roars back. His eyes blaze with both anger and hurt, his iris taking in that dangerous shade of yellow that belongs to the hybrid caged inside of him, to the beast beneath the man.

"Yes," Caroline answers forcefully, trying to act confident even if her voice is trembling and barely above a whisper.

The truth is that she wants to believe him (how pathetic). To feel important, like there is actually someone who is putting her first for once in her life. But she's afraid. Afraid of getting hurt, of reading too much into it. It is Klaus, after all, and–

–just how many times has she repeated that to herself by now already?

Klaus' stance doesn't falter one bit, but, if anything, his eyes softens. "That's not true, and you know it."

Does she?

Caroline swallows thickly, backing away a few steps to try and distance herself from Klaus, but her back soon meets the bar counter and she is trapped.

"Well, I think I know how I feel better than you do," she bits back, but her words are rehearsed, they are stumbled upon, and lack their usual harshness.

"Maybe," he concedes, slightly craning his neck to the left and observing her curiously, as if deep in thought. "But I'd wager you wouldn't be spending your twentieth birthday getting drunk on the wrong red liquid if you were really that sure of how you feel, love."

Caroline rolls her eyes, exhaling forcefully through her mouth. "Whatever. What do you even care," she mutters, although it is mostly to herself as she ducks her head again to avoid his eyes.

"Mmh, I think we've just had this very same conversation."

"Yes. And I think I've just made it clear that I don't believe you, so just get lost," she scoffs, trying again to dance around him and get far, far away—because, seriously.

His iron grip on her wrist stops her short though, turning her around so they are face to face again. "I can't. Don't you understand, Caroline?" he asks her painfully, his usually controlled, icy and stony eyes clear and vulnerable. "That your obstinacy is killing me? Why do you keep pretending that you feel nothing for me?"

"Because I don't!" she shouts back, stiffly freeing her arm from his grasp.

Klaus clenches his eyes shut, his jaw hardening.

"You're here alone on your birthday, trying to drink away your memory," he speaks again after regaining some control. "You said yourself that your friends don't care about you—then why can't you just be honest to yourself? To me?"

"Because it's wrong! What I feel for you is wrong!" she cries out before she has a chance to stop herself, tears now pricking at the corners of her eyes, trying to free themselves just like the sudden revelation that had flew out of her mouth not only a second before.

"Why?" he asks, inching closer to her. "Because I'm a killer? Because I've killed people who had threatened to hurt me and my family? That's why I'm the bad guy?" he lets out a humorless laugh, and he sounds so bitter and defeated that Caroline's heart clenches a bit.

"You and your friends have done the same, sweetheart. You have killed too, to protect those you care about, and you'll kill again—why? Because you're a vampire. And I don't care. You could kill a thousand more people, and I wouldn't care! I wouldn't look at you any less, Caroline! Don't you understand? We're not humans anymore, there is no right or wrong here!" he growls into her face, almost breathless, wanting to make her see. Why can't she just–

–but something does snap inside of Caroline then—hasn't she been reproaching herself just minutes before for still standing, struggling, on an invisible moral high ground?—and before she can even realize her actions she is crashing her body into Klaus', her lips taking his by surprise.

She enjoys the first few minutes of control, her fingers busying themselves into his unruly hair, gripping and pulling at it almost severely, viciously. But this is Klaus–

–again (still)–

–and, as soon as his head catches up with what's happening, he's pushing his tongue against the seam of her lips forcefully, not even pretending to ask for entrance as his mouth dominates hers.

He brings one arm around her waist, securing her against him so aggressively that she can only lift up on her tiptoes to keep her balance, although there is very little space between their bodies that she could actually fall into.

His other hand takes a hold of her face, caressing her cheek and tilting her head slightly to deepen their kiss even more, his tongue owning her mouth so ferociously that it's literally leaving her no other option but to respond in kind—not that she actually wants any other option, anyway.

Klaus' kiss is both passionate and tender, and she's not quite sure how he manages to do that but it makes her head spin, and so Caroline backs away just a bit, disconnecting their lips.

He's desperate though, and doesn't relent—he's probably worried that she's going to change her mind any moment now and reject him again, because she's fickle like that. What he doesn't realize is that Caroline is way past the point of no return by now, and she has no intention of backing out this time. Not anymore.

So his lips find her neck, nibbling relentlessly, biting down with his blunt teeth, not hard enough to break the skin, but still enough to elicit a moan from the blonde.

It sends him into overdrive.

"Caroline–" he growls into her skin, and she knows.

If she wants to stop, it has to be now.

Her hands leave his hair, they touch down his neck and grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him more firmly against her. He's hard but soft, and it makes no sense at all, but she wants this. She has been wanting this for a very long time, if she's being honest with herself.

Klaus' head feels like it's about to explode, or implode. He's not complaining but he would have never expected tonight to go this way, and he's torn between enjoying it and denying himself because he doesn't know if he will ever be okay with having her just once–

–he won't–

–and he's pretty sure that that is what this will ever be.

But just like that, she's shaking her head against his chest—her whole body shaking, curling, softening, against his—and his hand that was on her cheek gets lost in her curls and presses her against him even more firmly, even more intimately, because this is it.

They don't need to speak.

It's a second and then they're outside the bar.

Everybody was intoxicated inside, but someone—but Klaus doesn't care. He would gladly reveal the existence of the whole vampire species to the whole, wide world as long as it meant he could keep Caroline like this.

She doesn't have much time to think about it anyway, as her back hits the brick wall of the dimly illuminated alley.

And even if vampires are not supposed to get chilly—they're not supposed to get hot either—Caroline feels like she's on fire all over, like she's flying, or exploding, (she can't tell), and the cold, late autumn air hits her burning skin like a thousand knives.

Her neck tilts back in a breathless plea as Klaus pushes against her again, his head burrowed in the nick just above her shoulder, where her breastbone meets her cleavage, his teeth exposing more of her flawless, ivory skin ad they drag away the soft collar of her yellow top–

–yellow, light, Caroline.

He licks, and bites, and sucks, and then does it all over again, marking her.

"Klaus," she pants shamelessly, her cheeks flushed, her bottom lip tortured between her teeth.

He hums against her neck, and the action makes her smile. It's so intimate and new for the two of them, and yet, somehow it feels normal. Right.

Is she losing her mind?

"Will you–" she chokes out a breathless moan as he hoists one of her legs up and around his waist, bending it at the knee. "–admit that you were stalking me, now?"

Her hips arch closer to his just as he grins at her persistence.

It makes his heart soar that she's still being Caroline, that she's fully present and not a pretended-drunk, dejected version of herself. She knows that this is happening and she wants it—him.

"Never."

Their mouths fuse together again. He's still smirking against her lips, and it causes her to smile as well.

This is crazy–

–but no, it's not.

It's brilliant, really. A sight to behold. Two beings finally caving in to their deepest desire, trying to defeat the rusty barriers of the golden state of mind that had been keeping them separated thus far.

It's cathartic, almost. Because it was never supposed to be anything but this. And they can both feel it—yes—through the frantic, crazed beating of the other's heart. A heart which is pumping borrowed–

–(stolen)–

–blood through their veins, as if they're alive again, as if they had never died at all.

On instinct—and she's bat shit worried for her mental sanity because this should not feel half as much as natural as it does—she lifts her other leg up and around his waist as well, bringing his lower half closer to her own.

And God, it feels–

"So good," Klaus gasps out, leaving her lips to take in an unnecessary breath. "God, sweetheart, you feel so good."

He's still panting against her bared shoulder, and so she momentarily busies herself with his neck, one hand sneaking down into the collar of his damned Henley to grasp those damned necklaces.

Her legs tighten the hold they have around his waist (as if he's ever letting her go), and his hips buck into hers readily.

The pressure in his groin is almost unbearable and this is only the beginning, and if Klaus actually decides to stop for a moment and think, think that this is Caroline, he might just cry.

And just like that, he wants to laugh, because—wouldn't that ruin the mood just fine?

She's wrapped up around him as tight as a second skin, and he can feel her and smell her everywhere, and it's just too damn much.

He feels overwhelmed like he never has before in his whole life—and isn't that saying something, given just how long he has been roaming on this Earth?—and they really need to leave now, otherwise he will take her right then and there, and she deserves better. She deserves everything.

Caroline is still slowly licking a trail up is neck, taking her time, occasionally biting down without of course drawing out a single drop of blood. She feels him gulp, nervous, and it's empowering.

She wonders for how long he could actually still resist, and thinks of taunting him for a moment, but she's done plenty of that already (seriously), so all she can do is balance herself more properly around him, looking straight into his blazing blue eyes.

Strong. Ageless. Fearless.

"Bring me home?" she whispers, fluttering her eyelashes coyly and making his breath hitch in his throat. She's a Goodness–

–she will be the death of him.

She doesn't need to ask twice. In all honesty, she didn't even really need to ask that one time.

In an instant, he has them speeding through the darkness—it feels so nice—and it's mere seconds before they're stumbling through the ample front door of his Mystic Falls' mansion.

Normally, she'd worry about other people—ahem, his siblings, maybe?—being there, but not this time. He himself wasn't supposed to be in Mystic Falls, so she doubts any of his pesky siblings are.

For a moment (a millisecond, she swears), she wonders why he is—in Mystic Falls, she means—but there's that little, nagging voice at the back of her mind that doesn't even really need to remind her of the answer.

Because of you, Caroline. It was all for you.

Her back is up against a wall, again. Not that she minds, at all, because his body is pressed up onto hers in all the right places and in all the right ways, and she is not going to complain about that. Like, ever. But she wants some control over this, and she doesn't want to let him do all the hard work.

She snickers against his lips. Hard work—God, she is such a teenager. (Except she isn't, not anymore).

Klaus looks at her a bit funnily then, and that adorable crinkle between his eyebrows makes an appearance.

She shakes her head with a smile, taking his face between her hands gently.

They're about to—and she just laughed. (For God's sake, Forbes). There's only so many ways a man can take that.

The slightly affronted look on his face disappear as she captures his lips with hers one more time, his tongue wasting no time as it enters her mouth and moves languidly against her own, caressing her teeth and then the roof of her mouth. He's swallowing her whole, and even if the tempo has slowed down a bit, the passion is all but vanished, and it's eating them up alive.

Caroline feels extremely comfortable hoisted up around his waist, and she knows he would stake himself before letting her fall, so as he shrugs off his jacket she pulls at the collar of his Henley, panting into his mouth as he teases her by dragging his teeth along her plump bottom lip.

For a moment, she thinks of simply tearing the offending fabric in two—because that would be so hot—to finally free his chest to her hungry gaze, but she wants to do this as normal as it can be, so she simply eases him out of the shirt by pulling it up and over his head.

The disheveled look certainly suits him, with his hair now all messy not only from her fingers running mercilessly through it, gripping and pulling, but also from her undressing him.

He's beautiful, and the undiluted adoration dancing across his eyes makes her want to cry.

They have a task at hand, though, and they are both getting impatient.

Her jacket is the next to go, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. Then her top, as he shows it the same respect she had showed his shirt just moments before, his hands bunching the fabric up to her stomach as they caress her newly exposed skin, his eyes roaming her flawless figure in awe. It's mere seconds before the yellow garment touches the floor, as well.

She's wearing a white, lace bra underneath and it's enough to make him shudder–

–how is this really happening?

He inches her up higher around his torso, unwrapping and then re-wrapping her lithe legs around him by her thighs.

Finally, albeit still covered (he wants to take his time), her breasts are right in front of him, and it's all he can do to lean forwards, nudging her perfect skin with his nose, trailing a light path across her collarbone.

Caroline is already panting heavily as he pushes down her shoulders one white strap and then the other. Carefully, tenderly.

"Please," she breathes out throatily, rubbing herself down on him. She needs more. More, more, more.

One hand reaches behind her back and finally—finally—unfastens her bra.

She's not one bit shy as she shrugs it off, baring herself to him. If there is anything that she has learned about him, and that she is now finally letting herself admit, is that she knows he will never look at her with anything but the utmost respect and adoration.

Klaus' eyes widen at the sight of her bare breasts, like a starved man seeing water again for the first time in years, and he wastes no time in cupping his hands under them, his thumbs immediately starting to fondle her nipples expertly.

He feels like he could combust, touching her like this.

Caroline moans, and her hands grip onto his hair again, her nails cutting into his scalp.

It doesn't hurt him, because—how could it, really? But it feels so good. He doubts, however, that there is anything she could do to him that would ever feel anything but fucking amazing.

Sensing her need for more, his mouth latches greedily onto one of the two little, erect buds, while his left hand takes care of the other.

But still, it's not enough–

–it never will be.

She wants to give as much pleasure as she is taking. (As if having her so willing and compliant into his arms isn't already the greatest victory of Klaus' life).

She also wants to look into his eyes. She can't quite exactly explain why, but she does—she feels this pull, and she can't ignore it. She won't.

So she pulls at his hair again—it makes him smirk because it has already become a thing—and coerces him upwards. He does as she asks without a single word, but traps her lips with his own before she can say or do anything else.

One of her hands sneaks away from his hair then, and caresses down his chest from his neck. It lingers across his abdomen, feeling it tighten under her touch. She has (both have) had enough of playing around, so her fingers graze lightly down the chiseled V of his waistline and lose no time in undoing the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper.

He hisses through his teeth as he feels her little, warm hand brush against the prominent bulge still tucked beneath his boxers. It's pure torture, but the sweetest kind.

He feels it against his bared back as she toes off her shoes, and he hears the killer heels tumble down to the floor.

"Upstairs, love?" he suggests hoarsely, and all she can do is nod.

They lose his shoes, and his jeans, and her jeans, on their way up to his master bedroom. It allows more skin-on-skin contact, and—barely—but it's a relief.

She almost misses the feeling of the wall behind her back, but the weight of his almost naked body above hers surpasses it quickly, and by far, as she still loosely braces her legs around his waist.

He pushes her down on the bed, and takes a second to admire her spread like that on his sheets, with her blonde hair splayed all around her angelic face, her eyes wide and excited fixed on his, her lips swollen because of his kisses and her skin flushed a lovely pink from her cleavage to her cheeks–

–she's a vision. And it makes his heart clench painfully in his chest.

He toys with the waistband of her panties—they're black, and he finds it so fitting that they don't match the white of the bra he had discarded from her body what it feels like hours before.

She can see it in his eyes as he finally skims the thin material past her hips and down her legs—he wants more time. But she believes they have had enough foreplay already—a couple of years, if she's being honest with herself—and she wants him now.

As soon as she is completely naked before him, she sits up slightly and brings her hands to his boxers.

"Love–" he wants to plead, but the smoldering look in her eyes is just too much for him this time and he gives in to her—when doesn't he, after all?

Caroline stretches down on the king sized bed, her hands again finding their favorite place at the nape of his neck as she tugs him down onto her.

He takes her mouth again, positioning himself at her entrance, and finally thrusts inside of her just as his tongue slides past her lips as well.

She gasps, throwing her head back against the bed, arching into him.

It just feels so—right.

Klaus stretches her walls in the most painful but delicious of ways, and he doesn't stop pushing against her up until he has filled her up completely, his hips nestled firmly and securely between her legs.

He gives them both a few moments to adjust to the new, unfamiliar sensation of being joined as one.

Tenderly, he trails the back of his hand down her burning cheek, meeting her eyes. He wants to remember this—he will remember this forever. It's the single most perfect moment of his whole existence. He's been dead for over a thousand years, and all it took for him to feel alive again was this exquisite baby vampire.

He can feel her light swallowing him whole, and he rests his sweaty forehead against hers as he finally withdraws all the way out of her body and then thrusts back inside again.

They find a rhythm that is entirely theirs. It's neither too slow nor too fast.

He takes his time pulling in and out of her warmth, wanting to feel every single inch of her as her slender legs wrap themselves around his torso again.

It's magnificent. She is magnificent.

Caroline can feel the burning coil at the pit of her abdomen intensifying and moving lower with every thrust of Klaus' body into hers, and it's mind blowing.

He picks up the tempo, moment after moment after moment, and she starts arching her hips more forcefully up against his, whimpering, gasping, trashing among the sheets.

"Caroline–" he growls, clenching his jaw. It's just too much—everything is just too much.

Her eyes are only half opened in the throes of their passion, but she manages to focus her gaze into Klaus', and she gasps at the sight that welcomes her. His eyes are a bright yellow, surrounded by flickering black veins, and she can see the protruding fangs barely covered by his quivering lips.

She feels a sudden bloodlust of her own, and welcomes the all too familiar burning at the back of her throat—she did end up not feeding at the bar, after all.

One of her hands grips Klaus' biceps fiercely, leaving her fingernails' marks on it and drawing some small drops of blood.

It's really the last straw for both of them.

Caroline brings her other hand into his hair, pressing his face into her neck as he is still thrusting in and then out of her forcefully, the slap of their skin the only sound mixing with their pants and moans around the otherwise completely still room.

"Love–" he gulps, giving her one last chance out.

She shakes her head forcefully. "Do it."

And so he does.

Caroline screams as his fangs latch onto her neck, sucking the life away from her, and she grips even more strongly at his arm and hair.

The vigorous gyrating of their hips against each other doesn't falter for one second. If anything, it gets rougher, more animalistic, more primal.

He touches the small of her back, bringing her even closer to him, and tilts his head slightly to offer his neck to her as well.

It's not because she knows she needs it to survive, no. She wants it. Utterly and desperately.

Her own fangs pulse through her gums, and in a second she has them in his neck and it's all over.

It's so intense—the feeling of bloodsharing while making love. And the second his unique blood hits her tongue, it's all she can do to let go and pulse furiously around his member, coming and making him come right after her.

Klaus had never felt something quite like this—he had never shared his blood with anybody who didn't need it for the only purpose of surviving—and he feels like he might explode at any moment.

Their hips are still moving in tandem, their movements slowing down but their connection remaining.

He releases her neck first, and she licks a few last drops of his blood to make sure that she will heal—and also because he tastes so damn good, and she really cannot help herself.

They're both panting, both breathless, but eventually Klaus gently pulls out of her and rolls onto the other side of the bed, but not without wrapping one arm around her slim waist to bring her warm body against his.

He brings the sheets up to cover them both, and their legs tangle together beneath the covers.

It's too domesticated, and they both know it, but it's late and they're exhausted. There will be time to think everything more through in the morning, no need to ruin a perfect night.

So Caroline just closes her eyes and cuddles closer to his hard but welcoming body, efficiently shutting off her usually incessant thoughts. A small smile—but a real one—graces her lips, and it's all Klaus can do to succumb to sleep himself, tucking her even more against his side.

It doesn't take either long to fall asleep—some creatures of the night they are, eh—but it's quiet and peaceful and they're content–

–and it doesn't really matter that the bite marks on their necks are not healing quite the way that they are supposed to.