A Carolijah drabble...because it hurts so good.
Her breath ghosted against his neck as she gasped, her perfectly painted nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.
The sharp sting did little to distract him from the piercing betrayal he felt in his chest, even as the waves of indescribable pleasure coursed through every nerve in his body.
It was odd, how history seemed to repeat itself. How he fell into the same old rhythm of coveting what his brother had.
It had never meant to happen like this. He admitted, he'd found the baby vampire his brother had chosen for himself to be a breath of fresh air. She was optimistic and enthusiastic, seeming to balance out Niklaus' moods and bouts of anger. She could calm him down with just a touch and a whisper, and he'd found himself intrigued.
They'd spent time together. He'd regale her with tales of wars and his journeys throughout the centuries, and he couldn't help the burst of pride that he felt every time her enraptured gaze stayed fixed on his every word. Nik never talks to me about the past, she would say wistfully, her blonde curls falling over her shoulder as she leaned towards him.
He would always tell her it was because she didn't exist in his past. He wanted to focus on them and the infinite future they had ahead of them, and that small statement would always bring a small, shy smile to her face.
His hands traced the curve of her hips, sliding up her sweat soaked skin, tracing the curve of her breast and smirking when he heard her quiet moan of approval. A twist of her hips rewarded him, and he hissed under his breath at the feeling of her tight walls squeezing him snugly.
He tried to pinpoint the moment his feelings for Caroline had altered. When he had forgone the promise he'd made to himself centuries ago to never let anything come between the bond he had with his brother. But as the years had progressed, Niklaus' mission of hybrids and dominance had as well. He'd left Caroline alone more often, under the watchful eye of his brother. His heart had tightened every time he saw the young blonde's face fall with Klaus' every exit. He would listen as she cried to him over the phone, begging him to give up his quest. He would listen to her pleas that she would be enough for him, and that hybrids weren't a necessity as long as she was by his side.
His brother, ever the charmer, always managed to say just the right things to calm her doubts, though he could always see the lingering trace in her eyes when the call was over.
He doesn't see me like he used to, she said to him one night, tears welling in her eyes. He used to look at me like I was the greatest thing in the world. Now it's like…like I'm just…"
He had taken her hand, cutting her off with a glance. "You're extraordinary, Caroline. My brother sees that, believe me."
"Do you?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she'd gazed up at him.
He'd nodded, tracing a soothing pattern against her knuckles with his thumb. "From the moment I saw you."
He was caught off guard when she'd leaned forward, pressing her lips against his own. It was barely a caress—a feather light touch that he had to wonder had even happened. When she'd pulled away, a soft whimper had escaped her lips, and he collected himself, wrapping a hand in her luscious blonde hair and pulling her against him, his lips attacking hers.
Her lips traced his jaw, her human teeth nibbling at his stubble covered chin, and a delighted growl rumbled from his throat. His hands traveled to her legs, straddling his waist so tightly as she moved above him, her blonde hair cascading down her back and brushing against his arms. His muscles clenched as his hips thrust up to meet hers, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of her wet heat. Her gasps were the sweetest sound to his fevered mind.
His grip was tight and punishing—they both knew what they were doing was a betrayal. They knew that their death warrants could very well be signed with every clandestine meeting. He knew Niklaus would not be so forgiving this time—not when it came to the enchanting siren writhing above him.
"Elijah," she gasped into his ear, arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pressed her face into his neck, her pace quickening as she bounced against his length.
He groaned, bracing his feet against his floor and grasping her hips tightly, ramming his hips into hers at a furious pace. She screamed above him, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, and then she was exploding around him, her teeth clenched as she focused on her high, her face a mask of complete ecstasy.
Her nails scraped down the curve of his arm, drawing blood in thin, deep lines, and he growled deep in his chest. He could feel the pressure between his legs burst forth suddenly, and his hips thrust frantically against her as he emptied himself into her, his body shuddering even as her own collapsed against him.
Their breaths mingled, his lips pressing into the sweaty skin of her shoulder as her fingers scraped the skin of his scalp. Her intoxicating scent was surrounding him, mixing with the sweet smell of their sex and arousal.
"My brother will smell me on you," he said into her hair, hearing her sigh against him as she shifted. His previous betrayal was replaced with the familiar sense of jealousy. It infuriated him, knowing that she would be sharing his brother's bed that night, gasping against him and calling his name. Knowing that he would lie awake, hearing her cries and moans of ecstasy and wishing that he were the cause of them, as he'd been moments ago.
She pulled away, resting her forehead against his as she stared into his eyes. "I love him, Elijah," she whispered brokenly, pressing her lips against his. "I love him…but what I feel for you." She sighed, shaking her head. "I love him," she insisted, an desperate tone to her voice.
He only nodded, cupping the back of her head and pressing a bittersweet kiss to her lips.
He would never ask her to made a decision.
He knew what her choice would be. WHO her choice would be.
He'd take stolen kisses and fevered lovemaking under the shroud of night.
Because the alternative—never again feeling her against him, listening to her whispered endearments and the breathy moans as she came apart under his attentive ministrations—was a torture he was sure he'd never overcome.