So Tis been a while since I've uploaded. Apologies :( Just know I wasn't able to get this chapter edited by a second pair of eyes. And I've read through and have noticed the grammatical errors and whatnot - again, sorry.

This is also my very first time writing smut... I don't even know what to say, I suppose another 'sorry' might help.

Otherwise enjoy ... I hope.

A moment of peace

For as long as you let it Last




Little girl, little girl, didn't mother ever tell you, never judge a man till you've walked a mile in his shoes?

Caroline lies on her side; tries easing the quaking of her heart that reaches out to the dwindling fire in the depths of this man's chest. There, Klaus Mikaelson sleeps, and yet Niklaus lives on in a dream, with a girl by his side.

"Niklaus." The voice that once belonged to a woman with wild brown hair and dark almond eyes, lilted in the darkness they hid. Her and Nik (with innocent blue eyes and a naïve laugh – a boy, barely a man), would steal away a moment none could share. Kiss under the moon; fold into each other till they were a tangle of limbs that'd never part.

"Why will you not hold me so in the eye of the sun, my golden boy?"

The boys' muscles were strung taught. Should he speak of his father, should he reveal the truth as to where the marks that mar his skin come from?

"He cannot take you from me." She snapped him, like a feeble matchstick, with her soft words. She knew. And still she stayed. Touched the scar on his lip with the tip of her fingers. Gliding them over his cheekbones like cool silk that sedated the fire of his flesh. "You are mine, Niklaus… and I am yours."

The girl that wore Caroline's friends face (once upon a time,) leaned forward and claimed Nik's lips. Breathed her life into him, filled him up completely with such hope and joy and love, the boy could barely breathe.

Can I judge him now, mother?

Caroline continues to watch this shell of a man (this boy) whom died long ago, in the stillness of their room. Wishes this dream – this memory – would renew him. Not destroy him.

Caroline remembers how nauseous he became, when Abiageal stepped into his vision. Did she speak of this girl with wild flowers laced into her fine length of hair? Did Abiageal offer the memory of that woman's laughter, that now, to this day, echoes in the reminisces of Klaus' heart?

Can I fix him, mum? Should I even try?

It's a Thursday morning and both vampires, young and old, sit quietly and bathe in the morning sun.

Klaus, slumped in his chair with lean legs perched on the railing of the balcony, captures the ordained beauty of the sky; the silver line of the blue – the rolling clouds that walk on the line of the horizon until they bleed into the sea.

All the while, Caroline sits with her legs crossed and rolls Edith Wharton's words of poetry over her tongue, tasting the flavors of her passions.

Though her flesh stings with the echo of her lover back home, she wonders if this version of love making exists in the reality of men as well as women?

If it's more than just an explosion of raw ecstasy or thrill, but rather, like the release of a lantern to sway in the wind – becoming one with the stars?

She hears quiet laughter disrupting the vision of sturdy hands roaming and exploring naked flesh.

"What?" Caroline shocks, peering up at Klaus. His tranquil eyes are trained on her, art book forgotten, his smile widens as he asks, "What has you blushing, my dear?"

Caroline bites the inside of her mouth noticing the heat brewing beneath the flesh of her cheeks. She wonders if they are powdered red against her pale completion, a modern day snow white.

"What do you mean?"

He analyzes the book pressed against her chest, shrugging imperturbably, before returning to his work.

"Wonderful was the long secret night you gave me," she looks up. Holds her breath when he turns to rest his dark gems on her.

"My Lover,"

He sets his sketch aside, though he's careful not to move too fast, for she still clenches at his fluidity. Not quite accustomed to his old-age swag.

He prowls forward, painfully slow – until his knees brush her own. When he looks down at her, like her own personal comet that flares across an inky canvass, she sinks into her seat.

Carefully kneeling before her, he continues, "Palm to palm, breast to breast in the gloom," With breath now fanning her chin, he captures her – upon his knees he begins to ghost over the edges of her heart.

"Here, in this self-same glass," his fingers trail the length of her leg – from the very tips of her toes to the beginning of her thighs – before he hooks his fingers at the bend of her knees and unwraps them; parting her legs so he can press himself closer. His touch is feather light and leaves a trail of brazen desire in its wake.

"Klaus –" she whispers in protest. Weakly, uselessly. Though, when his fingers creep beneath her skirt and dig into her hips to drag Caroline closer – her nose aligned with his – her remonstration catches. She is rendered speechless.

His dark blue eyes dance to a terrifyingly gorgeous life when she catches her bottom lip in human teeth.

"While you helped me to loosen my dress" he murmurs the words into her flesh and plucks the book from her grasp to toss it aside.

"And the shadow-mouths melted to one, like sea-birds that meet in a wave—"

He rests his palm over her breast, smiles – prince charming style – when her heart rapidly meets his lingering touch.

"Such smiles, yes, such smiles the mirror perhaps has reflected;

And the low wide bed, as rutted and worn as a high-road,

The bed with its soot-sodden chintz, the grime of its brasses,

That has born the weight of fagged bodies, dust-stained, averted in sleep," she shudders when he creeps his fingers into the strands of her golden locks at the nape of her neck.

Her stomach clenches when he leans forward and whispers "The hurried, the restless, the aimless—perchance it has also thrilled." Lips brush the side of her cheek, almost like a kiss.

"With the pressure of bodies ecstatic, bodies like ours,"

"Seeking each other's souls in the depths of unfathomed caresses,"

His chest shudders when her fingers touch the triceps of his arms (just so she can find balance – because she just may fall if she wakes up to find this is a dream.).

She knows what comes next; she too knows this poem like her own personal lullaby. So when Klaus slowly pulls his head back, the fine lengths of her hair catching on his facial hair as he aligns his nose with hers, they both hold their breath. Lips barely a whisper away, the heat in their souls overflowing with uncertainty, he concludes;

"And through the long windings of passion emerging again to the stars ."

It's like one of those petrifying games of 'stab-scotch', just as the drunk mans vision begins to blur and fingers begin to shake with a knife held tightly between, you'll sigh when he comes towards the end. But, just as freedom breaches the horizon, he slips up … and slices away your thumb.

Caroline rummages through a man's duffle bag, searching and searching for a stake that will just not reveal itself. "Damn it, where the hell did the son of a bitch hide it?!" She groans aloud, cringing when she finds a necklace of teeth in Klaus' minions' belongings.

She wonders if perhaps she has miscalculated the trust Klaus has in those who blindly follow.

Maybe it was an illusions, it's likely he staged the moment where he handed the ancient weapon over to the young man, whose bag she guts futilely, just to have a laugh. Cunning prick.

Except, just as she huffs in failure she spots it amongst his socks, and doesn't bother refraining from rolling her eyes at its hilarity. Because really?! In your socks?!

She fits it into her purse and smiles triumphantly; a feeling thoroughly short lived… There's a noise behind the doors' suite and she realizes that Klaus little slave is trying to get in.

She hastily zips the suitcase closed and runs towards the small living area, swinging open the balcony doors –


Her skin flushes. Her heart beats still.

The floor board creaks, the very friction vibrating up her toes like a tendril of doom. She sees Luke's shadow breach the line of the living area and in a moment of numbing horror, she speeds into the cupboard.

"Who's in here?" the blonde haired man walks forward, he's young. She can deduce this much. She could pick out a hybrid even on her worst day.

Caroline clasps a hand over her mouth. Feels a surge of relief when he walks out onto the open balcony in assumption his little thief has fled the scene.

But, through the thin crack between the doors of her cupboard that provides her some visual aid, she senses his awareness as he sniffs the air once, twice and whirls around. Eyes fixing uncannily on the mahogany Caroline weeps behind.

"You smell like wild berries." Luke beams, "I quite like it. I wonder, will your blood taste the same?"

His steps are calculated, taking immense pleasure on tormenting whoever seeks refuge behind wood so flimsy he could blow down with a simple breath. Caroline's heart skinks to the bottom of her stomach, the entirety of her body blistering under the cold touch of death.

Her hand wraps around the stake, bringing it above her shoulder. Don't miss the heart. She thinks carefully. Just don't miss the heart.

Luke saunters closer, raising his arms, fingers held over the handles. Just as he's about to let the hotel lights flood on Caroline, an audible crash tremors through the room.

"What the…" He's disappeared and it's not until she hears his voice from the kitchen – "Who the hell are you?" – does Caroline rush to the balcony. Doesn't dare glance back and throws herself over. If she's lucky, her limber cheerleader legs will break her fall.

As it turns out, Caroline only breaks one of her legs upon landing.

She internally screams at the bone protruding from her jeans. Swallows salty tears when she snaps her knee back into place. With unstable limbs she treks through the 'Quartier Latin district.' Squaring her shoulders as she finds the hybrid casually leaning against Notre Dame de Paris. His expression is stern, too thoughtful when Kol steps closer, exchanging words before passing over a cigarette to his older brother.

Klaus takes a deep puff, eyes fixed on the floor before nodding as he blows out the toxins from his lungs. Returning the cigarette, he wipes a hand down his face, and Caroline thinks, in that moment he's never looked so tired. Kols' arrogant smile has yet to make its' debut, and this beyond anything frightens her the most, because he taps Klaus on the shoulder and leaves him to the frosty bite of winter. Alone to the words they've shared.


"You're late." He doesn't look at her. Not just yet.

Her manicured fingers bite into her palms, "I got lost."

Slowly, he raises his dark blue eyes to meet her own and it takes everything for her to hold the gaze. When he smiles, she forcibly creates a barrier between his madness and her fear.

He pulls away from the wall, doesn't miss her subtle retreat. Despite already smelling her fear, he still takes hold of her arms, and very slowly draws her to him. Caroline lets her feet tumble forward, refusing to resist his pull.

"Don't try play me like a fool, Caroline. Do not ever think you are capable of blind sighting me."

"Noted." She says firmly.

"So, be honest." he warns, "What took you so long?"

On nothing more than a wager, she brings her fingers up to her neck and answers, "I was looking for a necklace my father gave me before hi… before he died... I can't find it." She notes the slight release of pressure of his fingers.

He steps away, completely still and tilts his head to the side – lets his eyes skit over her entire body – before murmuring. "We've left the driver waiting long enough."

Klaus, like a courting gentleman, holds out his hand. And she has no choice but to take it.


She twirls a little souvenir around her finger, expecting to find Klaus with the horses in the Pyrenees stables where they'd parted.

Instead she finds him within the stream further up towards the mountains, sitting silently on a flat boulder with his knees drawn up and elbows resting on top.

With crystal drops barely touching him, Caroline cannot help but admire how beautiful he looks. So she creeps down the slight trench until she begins walking on sodden mud and takes the small opportunity to pull out her camera and captures everything harmless about him.

How the setting sun catches in the strands of his golden curls. How the very world resides in the cases of his eyes.

Captures, in that moment, how he's this storm of gorgeous chaos that has quelled into stillness.

He cranes his neck back and his eyes, a deeper blue then the water that interludes his thoughts, catches hers. Then he smiles, a small, sweet endearing smile it makes Caroline think solemnly of Van Gogh's words.

A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke

He stands now and extends an arm to her, and for the first time, there is no mischief or power weighing in his palm. Today there's simply an offer coloring the tips of his fingers – a gentle request. And today, Caroline takes his hand willingly.

Fingers curl around creamy knuckles, yet despite his assistance, Caroline's foot snags on a branch. The hybrid's reflexes kick in. Seamlessly his arms snake around her waist and she falls into his chest. She can feel the chuckle vibrating from where her forehead rests and cannot help but smile in response.

"Easy love." He murmurs. "Wouldn't want you to fall into the current now would we?"

She knows he means nothing, but when she peers up at him past her lashes and his fingers have yet to relinquish their hold, she remembers the boy hiding beneath and thinks much too late for that. I've already fallen and I am half way up the stream.

Never underestimate the importance of a moment. Because this moment, right here, will be for his memory to bury and hers to cherish.

"It's beautiful here."

Klaus tilts his head to watch her laying there – both now sitting atop of a steep-rocky hill overlooking the Pyrenees village – hair falling off her shoulder to bare her neck-dangerously innocent to the hybrid beast. "That it is." He murmurs.

"You see over those mountains." He leans down and points, "Just past those hills, is Spain."

"That's insane." She says, catching his glance. "Such amazing countries sitting side by side."

"There are so many more to see, Caroline. And I can take you. Wherever you want. To the Iseo Lake in Italy, the Tianzi Mountains in China, take you to stand on the Bridge of Sighs in Venice, the Red Autumn Woods hidden in Portugal, or the Fairy pools on the isle of Scotland." He turns now to watch the moon. "Such peaceful places that can make you think, remember things you thought lost in history."

He's smiling now, but there is something much deeper in the stardust of his eyes – she can't quite figure it out.

"I could show it all to you," he says again. "I could show you the world." He seems so genuinely excited a fragment of her regrets the words that rise to her lips unbidden, "I don't want to see the world."

Just let me see you. The leash tugs those words back harshly, for a second she's petrified. He's looking at her as if she were someone else - someone lingering in the shadow of his dreams.

It's almost painful, but she perceivers and waits. Keeps holding his eyes, becomes whatever it is he needs her to be. Until finally he violently severs the lock, clamps down his jaw and looks to the moon once more.

The valiant Miss Forbes allows the silence to envelop them both without denying herself a simple act. She stretches out her arm and begins to play with the laces of his boots; twisting and pulling until she elicits a petty excuse for laughter.

It dies quickly however when she continues upward till her fingers creep beneath his Laguna beach jeans to stroke the flesh of his calf. There's a sudden zap that flares through her, it's excruciatingly painful though she cannot scream. Has he poisoned me?! she tremors when her vision blurs and disperses into darkness.

"Klaus?" her voice seems to echo around her, the way it would in a dream. "Klaus! Klaus where are –" her voice catches in her throat when her bare feet cripple broken twigs and browning leaves. She's no longer on the hill overlooking the village.

She's in the middle of a forest, she realizes. And she's alone.


"Sweetheart." Caroline sighs in relief, smiling weekly when Klaus' figure emerged from the trees. She holds out her hand expectantly to his extended arms, ill-prepared when he walks right past her without a look of recognition. As if she were not there at all.

"Hello, my Golden Boy." The cheerleaders' blood ran cold. She turns and finds she's quite literally caught-in-the-past.

Bonnie never mentioned the herbs working in a state of awareness.

Elena's arms wrap around Klaus' neck (too) eagerly, eyes donned in sympathy when her long fingers touch the purpling rings around his eyes. Tilting her head in unwarranted guilt when blood falls from the fresh cuts on his face. "He hurt you again."

He presses his forehead into her neck and welcomes the soothing pressure of her palms across his back. "Let's run away. You and I," Klaus, or more accurately, Niklaus whispered hoarsely.

If the girl is astonished, she hides it well. Katherine (No, not Katherine or Elena. Caroline reiterates) tilts the boys head up to meet her eyes. "What?"

"I may not have much to my name," Niklaus spoke quickly – desperately. "But I, I promise to love you. To give you everything I can. And one day I will give you the world, my Pure Heart. I'll give you the world."

Then the girl smiled an understanding smile, for a second, Klaus' present insecurities bleed into his younger self.

Finally, the girl presses her porcelain lips gingerly against his cut lips and says, "Niklaus, my precious, precious star. I don't want the world. I just want you."

Caroline jerks out of her sleep-state mind and finds Klaus' eyes suddenly trained on her. Her fingers are still on his leg, and without hesitation she snatches her hand away. Searching her surroundings to ensure she is back in the present.

Klaus squints his eyes at this, "Caroline, love. Are you alright?" There's tenderness in his tone, though his eyes betray a certain fervent curiosity at her abrupt withdrawal.

She sits up now, "yeah, I'm fine." She promises, taking a deep breath. This doesn't stop the onslaught of Goosebumps that erupts over her skin.

"Are you cold, love?"

Caroline doesn't really know what to say, susceptibility to the weather is something they no longer experience. Regardless of her silence, Klaus shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.

She wants to thank him. It's just; her lips don't seem to move.

"We should get going?" He stands now; taking her hand in his to pull her up with him. "Our driver may start getting ideas of leaving us behind."

He's barely walked a meter, but her need to know flings the words out, consequences be damned. "Did you love her?"

Perplexed, he turns and asks, "Who, Sweetheart?"

She hugs his jacket closer to her body as his hand rest over her shoulders in encouragement. "Elena told me that you and Elijah once loved a girl, back when you were human…"

His mouth gapes open and he tries so desperately to say something but no words come.

"Did you love her?" Caroline demands more sternly then intended. Because, hell no, his stupefied little dumbfounded look will not excuse him from this topic!

"Yes." He whispers. "I did."

To her own surprise, this only angers her.

"Caroline," Klaus begins, "I don't understa –"

"How?!" She's shouting now, and he makes no move to silence her. "I don't get it. If you loved her so much… how could you hurt the girls that look exactly like her?" She's gambling with her life at this very moment, she's sure. So she gives it everything she's got.

His fingers harden on her arms, enough that she can feel purple ink unfurling under her flesh like roses. Usually that'd frighten her, but it's his eyes that make her heart ache. A look of utter loss.

"Klaus," her voice is softer now.

His eyes flutter shut when her fingers graze the line of his jaw, resting over his cheek. She wonders if he can still feel the bruises his father had left around his eyes, or taste the metal-tang of blood on his tongue the girl he hides inside him once tasted herself when she'd kiss him.

"Talk to me."

He releases a shaky breath and she can smell his apprehension.

"They're thieves." His voice betrays his nonchalance. "They laugh in all the wrong places. They walk with a purpose when she'd merely walked for that moment. When they smile… its' all wrong. When Elena smiles, it reaches her eyes, does it not? And when Katherine grins, there is always a touch of mischief. When she'd smile it, it was contagious. She shared a part of her very soul" He's wearing a teary smile himself, so Caroline only steps closer for some support.

He brings his head up and this time his voice comes stronger. "That is why I can hurt them, they are everything she wasn't and yet completely the same. A walking reminder of what will never grace this world again."

He's a man that's lived a thousand years – experienced war, relished in them even. Has tampered in all the shaded areas of brutality and witnessed the destruction of all things good. So when he says – "And i don't know anything crueler." – Caroline's eyes sting with unshed tears.

There's a fluttering of a birds wings ghosting over the edges of this young girls heart and for once, in a very long time, Caroline doesn't refuse its' touch.

Instead, her hands fall to the place of Klaus' heart, body pressed against his, so close she can feel his breath hot against her temple. Only then, does she stretch up on her toes and press her lips full against his mouth.

Klaus stumbles backward, only slightly, "Caroline," he moans her name against her lips – a sign of protest that is rendered useless when there is the slide of her tongue and the touch of their teeth. She is relentless with this kiss, doesn't let him breathe until he opens his mouth beneath her own. That's it, just let go.

"Caroline, love - wait."

"Shh." She mewls against his jaw, hands creeping into the hair at the nape of his neck. She tries to kiss him again, except this time; he turns his head away so her lips touch his cheek.


His breathing is measured, his stance somewhat rigid. If she dared to look, she could swear his eyes have darkened under the moons touch, or perhaps her own.

"Klaus …" She palms the hair of his cheek, turns him to face her.

"Caroline," he says, tongue darting out to nervously lick his lips, "if you say yes now…" his jaw clenches furiously and she has to repress the short cry that flutters up her throat. He's the biggest bad that she's had the misfortune of meeting, and he can barely conceal his fear.

"If you say yes now, there is no turning back." You can't change this moment. Cannot forget.

As the lights of the village finally flicker to their end, and all there is to light her world are the moon and the stars and the fire in his eyes, she stretches up on her toes, her lips almost touching his and whispers with no reservation – absolute no doubt,


His lips are on hers before her heart beats once.

He's ravenous, he's poisonous - he's toxic in the way he kisses. He takes what he pleases and gives her more than she can bare. And she welcomes all of it.

It's Caroline who tears his shirt off first, impatiently pulling it over his head, heat brewing with a sudden lust to see how the fabric has ruffled his hair. How the contours of his muscles run on and on, daring her to step forward and map them out with her lips. He smiles wide, arrogant. Take a chance, Caroline.

Klaus' eyes drown yellow when her hands claw down the planes of chests in a sudden forge of defiance, enough pressure to make him bleed and she leans forward to lick the already healing wounds. His grip on her arms tighten viciously, a growl emanating from deep inside his throat when she bites down on his neck with blunt human teeth.

"Don't be shy." He goads, though he's silenced by another kiss, Caroline's tongue heavy with his blood.

Her hands travel down the trail she'd left with her mouth, till they reach the beginnings of his pants so she can make work of his belt. Her touch unfurls a certain hunger from deep within this beast. And just as her fingers hook around the leather, Klaus snatches her wrist up in a steely grip, "ah, ah, ah," he chides, and spins her into the tree, pinning her hands above her head.

"Look at you, so desperate to just have," he husks, pressing his hips against hers (that she takes as an invitation to wrap her lithe cheerleader legs around his waist - pulling him in like a python.), leaving enough room for his hand to travel down her shirt, unbuttoning her blouse torturously slow. Eyes falling down to look at the creamy flesh he exposes to the cool whisper of the wind. "But, my dear, you need to learn how to indulge," His free hand creeps beneath the cotton of her shirt to splay his fingers against the branch of her ribs, thumb slipping beneath her white lace bra to stroke the underside of her breast.

"Learn how to savor it –" he thrusts his hips into her harshly, a wicked grin slashing his lips up when she gasps out wantonly against his cheekbones. Her hands uselessly fight against the restraint of his original strength keeping her trapped against this tree. "–Commit it to memory, so that it's only for you to keep and others to never see."

His heel of hand pushes her breast up, head falling forward to graze his teeth against her taught flesh. The stubble of his chin tickling her, and the giggle he is rewarded with makes him grow impossibly harder.

His tongue massages the entire length of her neck, lips closing over her flesh to suck at the thunderous beating of her pulse-point. "You deserve to be ravished against silk-white sheets." His lips brush against the shell of her ear. Wet and heavy.

"Surrounded by a thousand lit candles whose flames do not compare to yours."

"Klaus, please." Her words are strained. Her entire body touched by fire and still her desire grows.

"Please what?"

"Stop being a tease." She grits out past clamped teeth.

He laughs at this, but then her eyes stare up at him imploringly - he can no longer refuse her words. Cunning girl that she is, Caroline uses his very weakness against him. So again, she begs - voice on the precipice of falling into a whisper.

"Klaus, please. Just take me."

Well then.

He pins her down against the bed of leaves and debris. His body hovering over her like a warm sunrise that is seen only by those who yearn for its greeting. They kiss again, soft and hard - their breathing heavier and longer in between before Klaus ducks his head down to trail kisses down throat, to lick a line against her collar bone.

She sighs wistfully, praying he will relieve her of the incessant throbbing between her legs.

He travels lower still, kissing down her navel, tenderly pressing his forehead against her when her hands find a place over his shoulders, around his neck, anywhere she can reach.

She squeals when his nose skims the line of her waistband and his fingers effortlessly drum against the inner side of her thigh. Slowly, destructively, he unbuttons her jeans, lets the metal pull of her zipper travel through her before pulling her pants achingly slow down her legs. Tossing them over his shoulder with a wild grin to have her undressed before him.

Kneeling between her legs, he massages her calf, lets his touch travel up again before bending low to kiss a line of butterfly kisses up her thigh. His tongue following there soon after.

She's getting impatient, he can tell this by her hands that try desperately to pull him up so she can kiss him again, and he laughs knowingly into her flesh. Caroline pulls herself up onto her elbows, "Klaus, come here I want to kiss you – Oh, God." Her mouth falls open and her hips buck up.

His tongue is pressed flat and hard against her core and he's kissing her just there the girl can no longer breathe. Her head falls back, unguarded gasps and moans falling from her lips like sugar.

She chants his name like a forgotten prayer and he keeps on kissing her, long after the moon's disappeared and the last star in the ocean above is swallowed by the light.


*Puts a paper bag over face* I do not even know how to explain myself - isn't the greatest, or really that good. But seriously, constructive criticism will help me improve from *points* all that you just read.

PS; are you guys enjoying the Originals?