This one-shot has humble beginnings. It's the first thing I've ever began writing on my phone, just because my mind thought the best time to spew Klaroline prose was right after I'd climbed into bed. Anyway, it took a few months but I finally finished this one, I hope you like it.
I don't want to locate this on TVD's timeline but Klaus and Caroline definitely haven't kissed or anything yet.
The structure of this is inspired by With Teeth by the awesome wordspank.
Trigger warning for addiction, especially in regards to drug abuse.
Lastly I just want to note that this is absolutely supposed to be only from Caroline's point of view and I don't even attempt to climb into anyone else's mind, not even Klaus'. It was a stylistic choice on my part for several reasons but I think you can imagine how he's feeling if you know him. Also I may or may not be writing a sort of accompaniment that is entirely from his POV this time.
She's never had an addiction.
Obsessions, yes. Obsessed with winning, with being the best; with excellence. But she's never had an addiction. Always too much of a good girl, she supposed.
But now she did.
And this addiction, well, it blew 'good girl' right out of the water.
There's always a gateway drug, isn't there? Or maybe that's a myth, she doesn't know. What she knows is that she thinks about that smirk. A lot. She has eliciting it down to a science and the dealer never disappoints.
The devilish tilt at the corner of his mouth combined with the eyes always watching and following; observing and memorising.
It's smart, so freaking smart. Because she's learnt that drugs drive you to do crazy things because your mind isn't thinking straight. But she's on full alert when she examines the dark pink of his mouth, and she thinks that makes her in control because she's forgotten – gateway drugs.
Maybe the mouth is the problem – isn't that a nice, literal gateway for her – maybe she's drawn to the smirk because deep down she knows the lips hide her real fix.
He teases and chastises and the sarcasm practically hangs in the air after it drips from his lips. Smirk. Smirk and all, of course.
Her friends have a terrible plan and he doesn't refrain from mocking it. If they expect her defence, they don't show it; don't even pay her any attention (thank god).
If they expect her defence then they will be sorely disappointed because she's high as a kite.
Finally they realise they've overstayed their welcome and head for the door but she hangs back.
"I need something harder," she says, but they hear: "I'll convince him to help, don't worry. The plan is good."
"Is that so, love?" he says, but she hears: "How much can you handle?"
He's a good dealer – has she mentioned that? The smirks come freely, in all different shades of mocking and derisive and flirty. The smirks are free but the more dangerous stuff, the higher high she craves desperately, what will it cost?
And – will she be able to stop?
Just a taste; just once.
He's off-guard, which is nice because it means a hand to the throat actually lands him against a wall. Her lips encase his before he has the chance to struggle and for two seconds he hesitates as his mind catches up to what's happening.
The hand at his throat works well, because he doesn't think to struggle against it – maybe he's not thinking at all – which means she's in total control.
How is it?
Well, she can say this: you don't spend that long thinking about something and then not become completely obsessed once you finally get a taste. Klaus' lips aren't any different. God, they're sweet but his tongue tastes faintly of expensive alcohol and combined with the impossible heat of it all, she's obsessed in seconds.
Or she thinks so, at first, because that's what she's used to. Obsession is nice. Nice and comfy; predictable.
But addiction? This is new.
And she's so deep in.
She speeds away.
The Grill. She hasn't delivered and now everyone's going Round 2 debating how to solve their problem.
Klaus has outright refused to help and that's the last he's going to say of it; she's being shunned for her failure to convince him. They both sit at the fringes, watching her friends argue and strategize.
She could probably fight her way back into the thick of things if she wanted to but at the moment she feels indifferent about whatever it is that's trying to kill them this week.
It's not that she doesn't care about the threat. It's that it's very hard to focus when your substance of choice is in the room.
"Do you plan on telling me what that was about?" Klaus asks, straightforwardly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
You're in control.
"Would you like me to remind you?" he presses, his tone serious.
Pointedly he looks around the room at each of her friends.
Keep it a secret; it has to stay a secret.
"Outside," she whispers.
They slip away easily enough and head out to the alley behind the Grill together.
She's jittery as she leads the way; isn't sure how to handle this. But Klaus takes charge, speaking as soon as they step outside.
"Was that your idea of convincing me to help your friends?"
"Their plan was stupid and I don't want anything from you."
His face is a mask of Don't screw with me. The Original Hybrid at his best.
Well, discounting what's behind those lips, anyway.
"Well that's convenient, considering I want something from you. An explanation, for starters."
This is dangerous. There are no smirks but that doesn't mean this isn't playing with wildfire. Dark alleys are pretty much where drug deals originated, aren't they?
"What it is you're doing; what you want."
"God, are you even listening to me? I said I don't want anything from you!"
He parts his lips to say something but stops at the last minute, shaking his head instead.
That's too much.
Don't show me the goods if I can't have any.
She speeds right up to him.
"I don't want anything from you but what I take," she elaborates, before forcing her mouth to his.
Klaus staggers back with the momentum of her body against his but this time there's no hesitation, his tongue moves with hers automatically, taking everything she can give.
He's up against a wall and quickly flips them over, driving his body into hers. He's hard against her; tight muscle, jagged edges and a demanding jaw.
That isn't all that's demanding. He grabs a hold of her knee and hitches her leg up, puling it up over his hip.
And has she mentioned how high she is?
His mouth is hot and the burn is necessary. No really, she'll suffer without it. And there's something about the extreme desperate force he's treating her with that's making this even sweeter.
Only with the way he's holding her, pressing into her, she has to wonder: Who's the addict here?
He tries to move his lips – to her jaw or neck or maybe even her breasts – but she grips him to her tightly. She's been waiting too long for this fix, no way is she going to let him rob her of it.
Which, ok, the payment system is admittedly a little screwed up. She isn't sure what he gets out of it all but then again she's read somewhere that the first few fixes are free.
Just enough to get you well and truly hooked.
She pushes him away. Roughly, because it's gone too far. She can tell from the way his eyes are glazed with lust and the way she feels bruised all over.
"Caroline, what – "
She rushes off. Again.
She doesn't go all the way home this time, though. She gets a few blocks away then stutters to a halt and holds a hand over her heart as she puffs white air. She's panicking because nobody's warned her about this.
There's only supposed to be one freaking gateway drug, isn't there?
But the smirk was more like the fence and the lips were the gate. And now that she's felt his body – well, she wants it all.
Every single part of him.
"The door was open," he defends before she can reprimand him.
The front door was unlocked, not open, but she doesn't bother correcting him.
She's carb-loading because eating is what got her through her first few weeks of vampirism. She's the queen of moderation and control, after all. She can handle this.
But, damnit, even with a slice of pizza in her mouth it takes one look at his face to have her all flushed.
She spreads out on the sofa so there's no room for him and he smirks – crap, that wasn't part of the plan.
"What do you want, Klaus?"
He raises a brow. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
She stares at him for a while then scoffs.
"Ohhh, I get it – Reverse Psychology, right? The problem with that is that I really don't want anything from you, Klaus. So just turn right back around and get out of my house."
His jaw clenches and his body goes rigid as he straightens against the doorway.
"I'll leave," he agrees, his tone vicious and his eyes vengeful. "But I'm not your puppet, Caroline. You may be beautiful but I'm not willing to play your games."
"Who said it was a game?" she counters.
It's meant to sound wily but the truth is that this really isn't a game. There's no fun in addiction.
"It certainly feels like one. But I'm done playing."
He turns around and her breath catches in her throat.
No other junkie – holy shit, is that what she is now? – has this problem because there's always more than one dealer, isn't there? Different pricing and slightly different ingredients but, in essence, you can always get the same product somewhere else.
Her problem is that there's only one Klaus.
His back is hard and unyielding.
"I said I'm done, Caroline."
"I thought you wanted an explanation?"
He scoffs. "And suddenly you're willing to provide one?"
She's desperate for him not to leave but she definitely isn't going to beg.
She takes a second to remind herself exactly who they are. Klaus and Caroline. Right. He's the guy Damon keeps making fun of for having a crush on her.
Well, if Klaus is so freaking enamoured with her, then now's the time to prove it.
Instead of replying, she pulls her feet up and discards the pizza; wipes her hands. Klaus turns to view the source of the scuffle and suspiciously eyes the space she's cleared for him.
The fact that she isn't down on her hands and knees pleading right now is a testament to her willpower. Because she's sure if she were to put her hand up to her face it would be shivering violently. She needs him; needs more.
He hesitates for a good long while before making his way over to her and he eyes her suspiciously before dropping down beside her.
"So?" she presses and he frowns at her in confusion. "What do you wanna know?"
He seems annoyed. "I've asked you several times now, Caroline. What is it you want?"
She's happy with the question – it's one she can answer and hopefully get them to where she needs them to be. Or, more crudely but more accurately too she supposes, get him where she needs him to be.
"To sate my addiction," she says, and he hears: "You."
His eyes widen but she doesn't give him much time, she grabs him by the collar and pulls him down onto herself. His body is hesitant against hers – she can't exactly blame him but this time she isn't going to run.
You have to hit rock bottom before you can start recovery.
She needs rock bottom; she needs it.
Her mouth works against Klaus', exploring every corner and sucking at his tongue. Her body draws him in and eventually he allows himself to relax against her and his hands to explore her body.
She has his top off and is working at his buckle when he pants into her ear.
"Are you sure you want this?"
She finds herself nodding to the point of dizziness. She's never wanted anything more.
Intravenously, that's how she needs him; inside her.
"I want you running through my veins."
She's almost sure that's what she actually says.
She's not sure who's more surprised when she walks into his mansion.
You can stop any time you want.
He smirks at first and she can see the witty line run through his mind but the smugness melts right off his face when he sees the look on hers.
The look, the lust, whatever. He sees it.
He takes her to his bedroom which she doesn't protest against but she's not exactly comfortable with it either. It makes it feel real, like this is a relationship instead of some sordid deal that she's making as her belly scrapes the bottom.
"You drive me insane," he growls into her ear as the pads of his fingers scald their way up the backs of her thighs.
You don't understand the half of it, she wants to say.
Her bad decisions drown in his lips and her regrets disappear in the cut lines of his body. There isn't a higher high than the one he takes her to. She shudders around him; her mouth forms his name.
She's falling apart beneath him even as she realises that something's the matter.
She switches them over, taking over control of the intensity. She needs more and faster, always. Hotter, harder, more more more.
But whatever is bothering him doesn't go away and she tries to kiss it into oblivion but whatever weight lying on Klaus' mind is relentless.
He pushes her away and obligingly she sits up, eying the rug beneath his back; anything but those stormy troubled eyes.
"Caroline, what is this?" he asks desperately. She doesn't answer and he says something else, softer, like he's ashamed. What have you done to me?
She sighs. "Don't."
He grits his teeth. "Nothing you do makes any sense anymore."
Is that true? She's not sure. She's not sure he has the right to tell her what she usually would or wouldn't do.
Still, she doesn't want to upset him. She needs him.
"But it feels good," she smirks.
She tries to get back to the task at hand but Klaus holds a solid hand to her chest, between her breasts and a little to the left. If it's supposed to be symbolic she doesn't let herself take much note. Hearts have no place in addiction.
"What is this? What is it you really want from me?"
He searches her face as his jaw clenches. He's hurt but he looks away, shielding his eyes from her.
"If that's the case then perhaps you should leave."
She wants to protest, she really does, but that would prove that she was lying and she can't have that. He can't know what he really is to her.
Besides, it's only an addiction, right?
So she gets up, dresses, and leaves with her tail between her legs.
She wanted rock bottom after all.
She has endured a lot of torture but none of it measures up to going cold turkey.
She lies in her bed and shivers and cries as she tries to rid her tongue from the taste of his skin.
She hates having to make excuses to her friends. And they're tough to come up with too. She can't use her old human ones: cramps, a cold, the flu. Creating a sensible excuse with a headache and sweat on her brow is painful but she manages nevertheless, because the last thing she can do is text the truth: I'm going through Klaus withdrawal.
He shows up.
Her mother's been screening all her visitors so she has no idea how he manages to get in but she reminds herself that he's Klaus the crafty supervillain, not only a substance her mind is fighting against.
He sucks in a breath when he sees her and she feels offended because yeah she looks gross but she could've done without the reminder.
She rolls over – maybe he'll find her back more attractive.
"What do you want?" she spits.
When he doesn't continue, she frowns and turns back toward him.
"Look, it's really simple: you can either have me or you can't. And you already made your choice."
He looks mutinous. "I wasn't aware that was a decision I'd made."
"You used to be perceptive," she mocks.
She feels anxious beneath his considering gaze but she still manages to meet his eyes until finally he speaks again.
"Surely a man who hasn't made a conscious decision deserves a second go at it?"
She glares up at him. "Does it look like you deserve anything from me?"
He stares at her from across the room and she swears she detects a hint of shame there before a small smile starts at his lips.
"Well an explanation would be nice."
It almost gets her smiling too but she rolls back over instead, pursing her lips in the general direction of her window.
"The man doesn't get a second chance. He does get to leave without a shirt full of bullet holes."
She's trying to remember where her mother keeps the sawed-off shotgun when she hears the whoosh of the Original speeding away.
It's good, this is good.
She can be in the same room as him and not have her head spin with raw need.
It takes her a while to realise.
Considering the memories of being a controlled mess against his heated body and the way he can make her forget her name, she supposes it isn't a surprise. But nevertheless, the truth is back there somewhere.
Does your drug of choice say something about you?
Because there are many perfect things about Klaus. The soft curls of his hair and the way it blends so she's never sure what kind of a blond he is. His neck, the moles on his neck and those necklaces that are so freaking tuggable.
The way he wears his clothes and walks like he owns the place. Every place.
And then there are the things only she is privy to.
The way his hands scald over her and how his body fits right into hers; the weight of him astride her and the scorching slice of his tongue.
There are many perfect things about Klaus.
But none of these are what she fell for.
It's the most representative action he can perform that is so simply him. Teasing and smart and sexy but infuriating. That is Klaus Mikaelson and his smirk.
And it occurs to her that maybe her addiction isn't as concrete as she thinks; maybe it's not even an addiction.
Maybe it's something different altogether.
He comes when her mother is out.
It's been more than a week since the first time he came and she's proud of the fact that she looks significantly better. She's still in bed, yes, but she's freshly showered and her face isn't tear-streaked and puffy. She's also in her underwear but that hardly seems to matter.
She wants to tell him off for just walking in on her like this but she waits for him to say something first.
Only he doesn't say a word. He removes his jacket, draping it over a chair, then his shoes and climbs onto her bed.
She's too shocked to react – Klaus has been presumptuous before but never has he done anything like this.
He settles behind her without touching her and she's frowning so much she's surprised her eyebrows don't come off.
She waits for a few minutes but nothing else happens and she begins to think that maybe this isn't a part of some plan of his; maybe he just wants to be next to her. Maybe he's trying to prove something to her.
She nibbles at her lip for another few minutes before moving back the few inches that brings their bodies together.
"I'm over you now, in case you didn't know," she says.
Klaus chuckles. "I didn't. Good to know."
She smiles and he laces his arm around her. He feels so good and warm and right behind her and she nestles into his body more comfortably.
"You smell amazing," she sighs.
"Good thing you're over me then," he smiles into her hair, nuzzling into her neck.
Her eyes drift closed and she wonders what she would have done about it if he hadn't come; if she could have made it all the way to his house and still managed to verbalise her realisation.
She weaves her fingers through his.
"Hmmm?" he hums, sounding content.
She thinks about how long her mother will be at the grocery store; about what Liz will think if she comes home to find her daughter spooning with Klaus.
"I think I'm in love with you," she whispers.
He's silent but his hand begins moving against hers, his thumb massaging her palm.
Her eyes open and she twists over in his arms.
"Do you think you can deal with that?" she asks worriedly.
"Yes, I'm sure I can handle it, Caroline," Klaus replies dryly, rolling his eyes.
Caroline laughs. "What? You can't blame me for checking. You aren't exactly the most stable person in the world."
Klaus scoffs. "This coming from the woman who has spent the past month acting like a maniac."
"Junkie," she corrects. "I prefer junkie."
Klaus' eyebrows shoot up and a small flattered smile takes a hold of his lips.
"And what exactly were you addicted to?"
She narrows her eyes at him for only a second before replying.
"Mars Bars. Those things are so freakin' delicious," she quips.
Klaus bursts out laughing in utter surprise and she watches happily as he shakes his head at her in amusement. She reaches out to caress a hand over his scruff just because she can. And because she wants to – needs to, whatever. Rehab's un-fuzzed her mind but she thinks she prefers being on the edge with him.
After Klaus' laughter winds down he looks at her pointedly, his eyes boring into hers.
"I love you."
Her breath catches, her body going rigid in surprise.
He's stoic as he watches her reaction, his eyes searching her face for anything that might cause him regret.
So she allows the smile to slip out, the one that makes its appearance when she's happiest. And leaning into his ear, she reaches up behind her to undo the clasp on her bra as she whispers.
I want you running through my veins.
Please let me know what you thought and thank you for reading :)