wholeworldoutthere | Nothing wastes the body like worry

Caroline was, in short, pissed. She was hungry, she was annoyed - yes, she'd been given replicator blood, but after she'd thrown the first disgusting glass at the wall, it had refused to give her any more, instead of giving her something that tasted sickeningly sweet and made her gag. 12 hours in a room that made her think of before, that made her think of the last time, and even if whatever injuries she might have had still managed to heal in the time she'd been trapped, she still was hungry and mad and her heels clicked as she moved down the hall to Klaus' room, faster than any normal person.

The door opened, and she made it halfway across the room until she realised that it wasn't empty, and she just sort of stopped, staring at him. "Klaus?" She hadn't meant to say it like What the hell are you doing here? but that's how it came out of her mouth and it didn't matter. Still, she stood there staring at him. The jungle was over?

Klaus was exhausted, and asleep, but not sleeping deeply enough that the arrival of Caroline, and her blurting out his name, didn't wake him up. He straightened up at his desk, blinking a few times before he was fully back in the here and now, and what it meant for her to be in the here and now.

The next second, he was standing in front of her, after a push of speed, and one of his hands was cupping her face, the other one on her arm, and he was relieved enough that he didn't even notice the way she was dressed. "You're back. Where've you been?"

"Quarantine," She said with a sound of disgust, like she'd been grounded. "And I'm starving. How was the jungle?" She stared up at him, and then her brows knit. "... Are.. you okay?" Yeah, so maybe she'd done some soul-searching in between looking for clothes and finally, finally getting something to eat, but it wasn't like she was just going to blurt it, not when he was looking at her like - well. She didn't even know what he was looking at her like.

"I'm fine," Klaus assured her, because the cuts on him were mostly thin scars now, and the bruises were fading with each minute. "Did it affect you? What happened here?" He moved off to order some blood from the replicator, his hands reluctantly leaving her.

He turned back to her with a bag of blood, and only then took in what she was wearing. The jacket was somehow less striking than the leather skirt and high-heeled boots, which was saying a lot. Clearly it had affected her, and he paused before holding the blood out to her.

"Oh, thank god," she said as she reached for the blood bag, and she wasn't listening to him as she pulled in a breath and made a noise like - well, like she'd made in bed with him, making a low sound as she drank it, even if it wasn't as good as the blood she'd gotten from the real, living source. She drank it quickly, dropping the empty bag in the trash before she turned, and she smiled as she looked up at him, licking her lips.

"Here? Nothing. It's just- I mean, I guess it's been a little crazy." She moved closer to him, and her voice lowered, biting her lips together. "I missed you." Her fingers ran up his chest to find his cheek. "Tell me you missed me?" Her eyes searched his, and she just really wanted to hear it.

"Of course I missed you," Klaus answered, frowning, but his arm still came around her waist to pull her close, and kiss her. There was still the faint taste of blood in her mouth, and if he hadn't fed so much before sleeping, to make up for days of starvation, he might have gotten hungry again just for that. "I almost killed half a dozen people trying to find you," murmured against her lips, because it was true, and it was how much he had missed her, how panicked he had been to find her gone.

But he could put two and two together, after everything he'd heard from people who had stayed on board, and he had to ask. "Did you feed on anyone?"

She leaned up into the kiss, and it was unreserved, unrestrained, her arms around his neck, her body against his before he pulled back, and she nodded, just as she leaned up to kiss him again. "Later," she murmured. "Let's talk about it later, okay?" She leaned up to kiss him yet again, and it had a thread of power behind it, her body moving closer against his. "I missed, you, Klaus." And okay, maybe- maybe she really, really wanted him, but it didn't change the fact that she had a lot of feelings, that she was feeling a lot of things and didn't want to be without him.

It would have been so easy to lose himself in that kiss, and in her, and he let it happen for a few long seconds, before the hand in her hair made sure she stayed in place when he pulled back, and said, "No. Caroline. Answer me now." If there was damage to do, he wanted to know now, no matter how distracting she was.

She made a sound when his hand caught her hair, and she was staring up at him like- well. It was obvious what she wanted, but she stared up at him. "Twice," she said lowly. "But I handled the first one, but the second time, it didn't work." Her brows furrowed, and her voice lowered. "I was hungry. And I just- I couldn't help myself. It's not like I killed them."

Even though Caroline - Caroline before he'd left, she'd talked to him about it. She'd talked to him about how she didn't want to eat from people, not directly, because it was too good, and she was scared of killing someone. One person was enough.

"Good," he stated, breathing out quiet relief. Not killing anyone was a good first step. "Who?" he asked, next, still having to hold her at a slight distance so that she wouldn't be too distracting.

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like it matters. What're they going to do, try and kill me?" She sighed, and then raised her eyebrows. "I don't know who the first guy was," she says, her arms folded. "And the other one- I mean, it was Jim Kirk. And his friend, Spock, or whatever. I didn't really expect him to have a buddy, and the compulsion didn't work. It should have worked."

"The nanites make certain they're not a sure thing anymore," Klaus informed me, and slid his hand to her shoulder, feeling the fabric of her jacket. "Stay here," he told her, and kissed her again, "can you do that for me?" He did try and compel her while he was at it, but he made sure he wasn't obvious about it. He would have looked her in the eye regardless, after all.

She stared at him for a long moment, and her pupils dilated. "Yeah," she said, blinking. "I can stay here. Of course, I mean, I've only just found you again. You're not going to be gone long, are you?" She was looking up at him, and she leaned up to kiss him, one last time, her hand on the back of his neck, and she's making a noise into his mouth. "Come back soon, okay?"

"As soon as I can, love," he promised, and since he intended to be back as soon as possible, it meant going as soon as possible. One last, brief kiss, no matter that she would have made it longer, and he pulled himself away, and headed out.

She's waiting for him when he gets back, and she's sitting on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed, her booted foot wiggling in mid air because she's impatient. She's impatient, and she's already paced, she's already had more blood, looked at his drawings-- the half-finished one made her heart twist and re-affirmed her resolve, and she's sat at his desk and written him a letter, written him a letter that she's sort of pouring out her heart in, she writes and writes and writes and then she just sticks it in the bottom drawer of his dresser because her common sense says she should throw it away and burn it, but she's not much on common sense right now, instead she sticks it in under a bunch of clothes and then she looks at the door and paces some more and then she reapplies her lipstick and skims off her underwear and changes from her boots to heels because what else is she going to do, and then--

And then she sits and waits, and it seems like it's forever but the door slides open again and she smiles, wide and happy, not standing yet, just smiling up at him.

He walks in, and stops, and just takes her in. "I don't think I told you," he says, after a beat, and walks forward, and actually sort of kneels at her feet, just one knee to the ground and a hand on her thigh, "but you're a sight for sore eyes, love."

And then he's pushing up and kissing her. Because it's as settled as it's going to be for now, and just the way she is holding herself is saying how much she wants it, and since she wants it when she hasn't been made like this by the station's poor sense of humour, he can actually afford to indulge.

She kisses him, and she just sort of lets him carry her back like the tide, because she's got more than enough to do. She's shifting so her legs uncross, and she lets one of her shoes slip off so she can run her foot up his calf, kissing him like it's somehow both the first time and something new, and she makes a noise into his mouth that's just pure want. She's been thinking about this, about him, and she breaks the kiss to speak lowly. "I want it to be us together, for this and then we could go and find someone, I'd do better this time-" And then she's kissing him again, already pulling at his shirt, and she knows that his pants are soon because she's demanding and impatient.

She's kissing him again, but he's frowning and pulling back from the kiss, and the do better doesn't sound like she means sex, but it's all he can think about when her legs are bracketing him and her foot is doing things to his thigh and her hands are pushing his shirt up, because he might be the original hybrid, but he's also a man. "No," he says, and grabs her hands to stop them, pins her wrists to the mattress. Whatever has come over the people on the station, it's clearly gotten to her even more than he thought, because he didn't think her the sort to usually offer this. It just isn't who she is. "Just you and me," he adds, and only then does he kiss her again, with pent up heat and something very close to possessiveness.

She laughs, her brows furrowing. "What? I-" And then he kisses her, and her leg slides up around his hip, the silk of her stocking skimming the leg of his jeans. She pulls back, staring up into his eyes. "Of course, just you and me. This... this isn't for anybody else." She leans up, and nips his lower lip, her eyes dark, then she realises what he means, and she tips her head back with a throaty chuckle. "I meant- I meant if you wanted, we could find someone. After. To drink from."

Right. He feels stupid, then, and laughs at himself, and pours some of that laugh into her mouth as he kisses her again, quieting it so as not to spoil the kiss. "We'll see," he tells her, because it's better than a no, and they can talk about it afterwards. After this, kissing her again, moving a hand to her thigh to stroke up her stocking, and find flesh under her skirt.

She moans, and it's unrestrained, his hand under her skirt, under her garterbelt, and she's got her hand in his hair as his other is still holding her wrist, and it's about the sexiest thing that's ever happened to her, and she's holding him close as she kisses him, and the kisses are deep and needy and she wants him.

And thing number two that she wants, she doesn't want to wait. "Now," she demands against his mouth, her fingers tightening in his curls. "Please. Please now." And her leg's pulling his hips closer to hers, and she's rolling them because she doesn't have time for patience.

"Patience, Caroline," he whispers against her jaw, teasingly, as he kisses his way down her neck, and he doesn't want now, not when she wants it that much. He's still pinning one of her wrists down, and his other hand has found the side of her arse under her skirt, and it might be his old-fashioned side but garters are bloody hot and her knickers are nowhere to be felt. His hips roll against hers, a promise for more, but not just now, not when she's this desperate and he can make it that much better for her by holding it off just a little, drive her crazy first.

Her fingers are tight in his hair, and she's pulling against his hand just enough to do it, not enough that he's got to worry that she actually wants to get away, and she's half on his bed and half off and she whines when he doesn't give her what she wants.

She whines, and she bares her neck to him and it's such a bad idea, but she's his, and right then it's animalistic and raw and she wants to be his, and she murmurs something equivalent and then twists on the bed. "Please? Please." Like he'd just... give in.

Not likely.

He's sated enough (as much as he gets on replicator blood) and used to her enough by now that it isn't anywhere near as hard to resist as at first, and he obliges her by licking a stripe of skin up her neck, before he grazes his teeth (no fangs) over the wet, sensitive skin. But then he keeps dipping his head, mouth working its way down her throat with kisses and nips, and he brings his hand back from under her skirt to undo the one button keeping her jacket close, and at this stage it's not really a surprise that she's only wearing this gorgeous red and black bra underneath. His mouth moves with a purpose, towards her breast, and his hand hooks in the cup of her bra to pull it down and under her breast, so his lips can close around her nipple.

The sound that slips from her lips is definitely a whimper, and her head's tipped back all the way, and her hand tightens in his hair as she's actually trembling from the press of his teeth to her neck. It's dangerous - of course it's dangerous, but the answering flush of wetness between her thighs tells the tale of how much she likes it. When his mouth finds her nipple, it hardens immediately, and her back comes up off the bed, and it's his name, loud and raw, that's in his bedroom, and it's sort of like Caroline has no filter and is just one giant ball of feeling, still begging him, this time to fuck her, like she's crossed the line when expletives are allowed.

The moment she starts begging, Klaus's mouth pulls back from her breath, and then he moves so that he's straddling her, and he can grab both of her hands and pin them down, and hold her gaze. "I said patience, Caroline," he reminds her, once she's grown quiet and stopped moving under him. He bends down, his lips inches from hers, and pulls back when she tries to steal a kiss. "Patience," he repeats, and he's going to teach her that lesson.

She's staring up at him, her brows furrowed and she's breathing quick and fast and she wants him, and it's getting harder not to let her fangs slip, because she just wants and she'd do anything he asked if it just meant that she'd have him.

"What do I need to do?" She asks it quietly, and her chest is rising and falling in a way that belies her voice, because, she's pressing her thighs together to try and get some relief but it's not coming.

"Be patient," he tells her, and kisses the very corner of her mouth, making certain that she's not going to turn her head at the last moment to catch his lips. "Don't beg," he adds, and kisses the other corner of her lips. "Don't rush." A soft kiss, nothing anywhere near as much as she wants, but on her lips, this time, with just a hint of tongue, gone as soon as it is there. "Alright?" Holding her gaze, and waiting for her assent, because even if she's in this odd, station-infused state, he's not going to do anything she doesn't want him to.

She has to force herself not to move, not to grab him, not to say words, and she nods because it's difficult, because she can't talk if she's got to hold herself still and careful and quiet and not rush. It feels like she's roiling inside, bubbling and searching and it's an ebb and flow that she can't escape, but she's holding it all in and she'll let him lead her, because she trusts him and wants him and she knows it's the only way of getting what she wants.

"Thank you," he tells her in a whisper, for trusting him, for agreeing, and then he kisses her again, still not the deep, heated kiss she's after, but longer and a little soul-searching. Then he's going back to what he's been doing, his mouth over her exposed nipple, no teeth but his tongue, and his eyes on her, and he's watching her as he slowly, gradually releases her wrists, because if he's going to fuck her he's going to need his hands to open his pants.

She kisses him back, but she forces herself not to move or follow him when he pulls back, and it's so difficult that she's trembling, and she can't watch him as she stares up at the ceiling before she closes her eyes, tiny sounds slipping from her throat as his mouth finds her nipple again, and she's biting her lips together because she can barely handle it, her hands still above her head, her breath still coming fast and shallow.

Waiting. Being good, for him. Because of him.

Being wonderful for him, and since his mouth is currently busy, he can't form words and has to settle for noises to let her know, encouragement, comfort, and praise. His hands unzip his jeans and he pushes them down, and his boxers, as much as he can without moving from his resumed position between her legs. Then he's leaning on the one hand, and kissing his way back up, and his other hand hoists up her skirt and when his lips find hers, he's pushing into her, because she's been so good, and he wants it as much as she does, and it will only be better for not having given in straight away, and for the way he doesn't slam into her, but sheathes himself inside her, and kisses her deeper as he rolls his hips, slow but ample, nearly pulling out before he pushes back in.

She whines when he slides into her, when he kisses her, and it's somehow slow and sweet and amazing, so amazing that she just clenches around him and she feels like she's just moments away from losing it, but she rolls her hips up to meet his, and then before she lifts her hands, before she shifts to meet him, she stares into his eyes with complete trust, and softly asks- "Can I?"

And the too-smooth silk that still wraps her legs is slidings against his hips, but she's still not moved her hands, her fingers wound in the comforter over her head. One of her legs is around his waist, the other's still free for leverage, but she's holding herself back from touching him.

"Go on," he agrees, and there's something soft in his eyes, and way too trusting, that she would trust him. It's bordering on loving, really, and he kisses her again as he starts to move a little less slowly, but still nowhere near quickly. She's gorgeous and stripped of her inhibitions and she trusts him, and much as he was asking for it he isn't quite sure what to do with that.

Her hand finds his hair, and the other - the other finds his cheek, and she can't not touch him as she kisses him, as they lose themselves in each other and he's so perfect, and it's something about those words, about the waiting about her hands being free and him just having her that makes her gasp into his mouth as she comes, and it's so perfect that she swears she sees stars, her back bowing under him, her leg tight around his waist. It came from nowhere, and she wasn't even expecting it as it hits her, but she can't stop herself.

He can feel her clenching around him, but he's still a way off, and he has no intention of rushing this, really. Whenever they stop kissing, they're breathing together, or he's talking to her, calling her name and telling her how beautiful she is, and he doesn't need to look at her to tell her that, because he doesn't just mean on the outside. And when he kisses her neck he doesn't really want to bite in, he just thinks about it because how can he not, but he barely has to decide not to, because this isn't that kind of sex. He picks up the pace, little by little, and eventually slides a hand between them to help her along to a second orgasm, and only when that is over does he really give in, hips snapping harder, but just as deep, and he's kissing her until he comes, gasping against her mouth.

She second time she comes, she can barely keep ahold of herself, of herself, her hand in his hair. It's not until the kiss breaks, until they're both gasping for breath, until she's staring up into his eyes, until she lets go and there's no reason not to, that voice that was in her head that said no, don't is gone. That voice is gone, and she just stares up into his eyes, her hand cupping his cheek, and she can't stop herself. "I love you." She breathes it, and she means it, oh, God, how she means it, but come tomorrow she'll run from it.

It takes the air from his lungs, and just like that, he shuts down. There's a lot he can believe - that she likes, that she cares for him, that she doesn't hate him the way the others do - he can believe her gestures, her kisses, her caresses - but those aren't words that he can believe. It's just whatever's affected them all making her say that, and he closes his eyes and takes a few moments, just breathing through it and preventing himself from arguing with her. She's under the influence of whatever it is; there is no point arguing with her.

But no, he believes, she doesn't.

She can feel it, she can see it, and where a day ago she'd push and push and push because she shouldn't, because there was nothing that said she shouldn't a day ago, now that tiny little voice creeps in, that voice that should have stopped her, and she's staring up at him and this is not the reaction that he should have, and it's not even distaste or anything worse, but it's got her in that spiral of anxiety she got caught in more than once, that she used to live in.

Because she can feel him tense, feel him just- just disconnect, and it kills her, and she doesn't have the words, she just has the gnawing why did you do that and you're an idiot, Caroline that her brain readily supplies. She pulls in a breath, and she knows she should make it better, she should apologize, say she was carried away but that's even worse, because she's not sorry, because she wasn't carried away and it's true, so she says nothing, and just turns her head away, knowing he'll let her up and she can- it's not like her bedroom's got a working replicator anymore, but he doesn't believe her or he doesn't want it or he doesn't like her that way and it's just sex, that's okay if it's just sex, she just thought it was more, and if she ignores it like he's obviously ignoring it, maybe that's what she should do. She lets her hand slip from his cheek, and she doesn't say anything, because what can she say?

He softens enough that he slips out of her before either of them has said anything, and he's got enough control that he isn't going to say anything about it, not for now, anyway. He moves, and sits up beside her, but the first thing he does is get rid of his shirt, since it never made it all the way off, and then he's taking her hand and tugging her up, and kissing her with everything he does feel, truly, not because the station's fucking with him, as he pushes her jacket off her shoulders and unhooks her bra.

She pours herself into the kiss, and there's a line of desperation there - not to push it further, not to make it some sort of thing or to have heat but something else, and she lets it all fall until she's half in his lap and he's naked and she's in just hose and a garter belt, but her face is pressed against his neck, her forehead against his shoulder as she tries to make herself as small as possible, almost like it will erase what just happened, or it will make him forget or make it okay again, somehow. Neither of them is talking, and she doesn't want too, she doesn't want to speak because things will only get worse, instead of better.

At some point he gets his boots and socks off, and pants and boxers off properly, but she's so quiet against him that he never makes a move to take off her garter belt and stockings, and they're just cuddling, and every move he makes says he cares for her, and that's not why he didn't say anything to it, or so he hopes. It's a kiss now and then, mostly not to her lips, and the way his fingertips are stroking her back, or her arm, the way he brushes his foot against hers. But eventually the exhaustion catches up with him, and he tries not to fall asleep, he does, but he fails, with her warm in his arms, albeit quiet against him.

Caroline doesn't go to sleep. She dozes, she thinks, she gets wrapped up in her own anxiety and stress until she can't see straight, and then she slips out from under the heavy weight of his arm, slipping across the bed. They've been doing this enough - she's been doing this enough with him, that she's been sort of quasi living with him for almost a month that it's normal, for when she gets up for the bathroom or because she's weirdly awake before him so he doesn't wake up.

There's evidence of her leaving quickly; stockings balled up in the bathroom trash along with a ripped garter belt because she was so frustrated and angry that she tore it instead of taking it off properly; her toothbrush is gone, as well as the t-shirt she sleeps in that's his. Her clothes are still there, scattered among his things, almost two sets - the sweet and pretty things that she had chosen, and the things that scream vampire that have been her wardrobe for the last few days. There's a cocktail napkin in the trash that's been written on enough that it's torn from her scratching things out, and then there's another on the corner of his desk.

Hey.

It's probably best if we both just not worry about this, since we both need some space. Take care of yourself, okay? I'll find you later.

Caroline

That last sentence is a lie, and the torn cocktail napkin says I'll see you around and has all those things- I'm sorry for what I said and I meant what I said scribbled out and torn. She slips out while she can hold it together, and she's not doing that great because she's a mess, because she's supposed to love Tyler, that's what she's been telling herself, but she had meant it. She'd meant it because of this month, where she just feels more comfortable with him than she has with anybody else, that she can be herself or ask him to tell her about anything and he doesn't say she's an idiot, or that that stuff's not for her, and she spends her nights on his bed watching television while he draws and it's sort of been some of the best stuff ever, and she's ruined all of it and it's gone.

She knows she can't go back to her rooms, because if he looks for her then they'll end up having the conversation that they're trying to avoid, that makes him shut down because he doesn't want it or he doesn't believe her or this wasn't anything like that to him, but if she's in her rooms and he doesn't look for her, it'd somehow be worse, so she's only going to get her stuff and move, and she knows she can hold off the waterworks til then, that she's not going to lock herself in her room with some ice cream until they're new rooms he doesn't know about.

Edited 2012-06-19 13:49 (UTC)

Nothing wastes the body like worry

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