fall for me; fall with me
part one

Klaus' fingers are hot as they thread through the soft cascade of white feathers, rough and gentle all at once. He ghosts over the many ridged and out of place feathers, straightening them and patting them into place. As his hand moves downwards, the movement strong and sure, he feels the bone of her wings twitch in subdued pleasure. He smiles. "Quit moving, love," he says gently, fixing yet another stubborn, out of place feather.

Caroline looks up from beneath her long blonde curls. "Sorry," she murmurs. "It feels nice."

"You are quite rumpled, sweetheart. Your wings look as if no one has groomed them for days," he comments idly, sharp gaze fixed on her like a hawk. Grooming is considered a common curtsey amongst angels. They are always touching each other, fixing a feather here and there.

Her wings tense, withdrawing from his grasp in favor of covering her body protectively. Klaus frowns, leaning down, his own black wings stretching outwards, shuddering with his enraged concern. "Caroline," he says her name like a command, reaching forward to cradle her cheek in his hand.

She flickers her gaze upwards. "My grace," she begins with a whisper, "it dims. And they notice."

Klaus brings her trembling lips to his own hot mouth. As their lips touch a fire ignites within him and he deepens the touch, tongue swirling. She moans softly into his mouth, giving into him. Her own lithe fingers twitch upwards to nest within the thick fold of his black feathers. He hums in pleasure, pulling away. Her hands remain, flatting his feathers, grooming him with lethargic affection.

"They are jealous," he says, admiring her naked form.

She scoffs. "Hardly," she replies. Her gaze saddens. "Every time I touch you, the more faint my light becomes."

Klaus leans forward, resting his head in the curve of her neck. "You regret the loss of your innocence?"

She pauses, wrestling a particularly unruly feather into place. "No," she replies gently. "But my brother's and sister's sense it."

Klaus places soft butterfly kisses up her neck, stopping just at her ear. "Sense what, love?"

"That I will soon fall. That my grace will flee my body and I will become mortal; ruined by my love for Lucifer's son," she says, tone solemn; depressingly accepting.

"You will not become mortal," he promises darkly.


"No, my darling angel." He smirks against her cheek before pulling back. "You will become my eternal sin. Come with me."

Caroline's eyes widen. "To hell?"

"No, not hell," he corrects. "That is no place for you. Earth, however…"

"An immortal angel cannot live on the mortal plane," she reminds, brows furrowing.

"No," he agrees, "but an immortal soul may."

She gasps. "No," she protests. "I will not remember you."

Klaus' gaze is soft. "I will make you remember."

And then he kisses her and she knows all will be well.