A/N: Hey there, I'm sure everyone's still reeling from tonight's episode, so I thought I'd post this smutty little treat for you to enjoy.
It's sort of OOC/AU and basically all smut.
I need to warn you that it does get dirty, and graphic sexual language is used. If that offends you, I do not suggest you read further. This is phone sex, so of course things are going to get graphic as they indulge in fantasy/reality.
It should be noted that I'm not a phone sex operator or anything, so don't expect this to be awesome, lol.
This also wasn't edited as thoroughly as I wanted, so be warned of that as well.
If I don't update Love Interruption into the early hours of this morning, it will be done tomorrow, if you're curious.
p.s. if you want a laugh, I decided the theme song of this one-shot is "Digital Get Down" by Nsync. Lmao.
She was in the midst of laughing hysterically with a number of other girls at Rebekah, who was presently receiving a lap dance from the male stripper they had hired for Rebekah's bachelorette party, when her cell phone buzzed against her leg.
Upon checking who was interrupting her drunken fun, she rolled her eyes; it was Klaus.
She had explicitly told him not to text or call her tonight and to enjoy Stefan's bachelor party. He was never any good at following rules though. He was playing the role of concerned big brother to Rebekah, and concerned best man for Stefan she supposed. Or perhaps just her jealous boyfriend, she thought.
He wasn't exactly thrilled when he discovered that she and Elena had planned on bringing male strippers into his home as the bachelorette party's main attraction. Jealousy and antiquated sexist notions had informed his distaste.
It took some arguing and sexual favours, but she finally convinced him to let the event go ahead as planned.
The male stripper was a staple of any bachelorette party, she reasoned. It was innocent fun, primarily for the bride to be; a celebration of the male form, she laughed to Klaus, who hadn't seemed amused.
Rebekah would never stray from Stefan, nor would she from Klaus - especially with a stripper of all people. She assured Klaus of their fidelity and promised not to let the male entertainers sully any of his antique furniture with their well oiled bodies.
And besides, she knew a harem of female dancers had been procured for Stefan's bachelor party. It was only fair.
She could only assume that by now, Stefan's hotel suite was littered with scantily clad women for the Salvatore and Mikaelson brothers to feast their eyes and fangs upon.
If anything, she was the one who should have been making a fuss about things. Weren't girls supposed to be the jealous and possessive ones?
Instead, she was the one who raised the idea of having female dancers at Stefan's bachelor party in the first place.
Klaus seemed shocked, and that amused her.
It wasn't so much her enthusiasm that spurred her to make the suggestion as it was knowledge of the fact that it would give her arsenal when Klaus inevitably protested to male strippers at Rebekah's bachelorette party.
She gave her tacit approval and encouraged the entire thing, assuring a very jealous and possessive Rebekah that Stefan would never test the limits of fidelity. He loved her, and only her and that's what was important.
And while deep down she was confident Klaus would never stray from her - she had suggested the female strippers after all, remember? - She had subtly and playfully threatened his manhood if she discovered evidence to the contrary. He knew she meant it, too.
Reluctantly, she turned away from the amusing sight of the decently attractive male stripper grinding suggestively upon Rebekah to open the message.
Klaus: How's the male entertainment?
She rolled her eyes and texted back.
Caroline: He's certainly a better dancer than you are.
Seconds later her phone vibrated.
Klaus: If you could call stripping a form of dance. Is my sister behaving herself?
Caroline: If you could call drunkenly slipping dollar bills into a stripper's jeans while he's grinding in her lap behaving, then yes.
Klaus: Are you behaving yourself?
She tensed as her eyes scanned over his latest text. His question brought a guilty smirk to her lips, one she quickly hid when Bonnie and Elena looked disapprovingly in her direction. They knew exactly who she was texting despite the fact that they had all unanimously decided that no communication with boys was allowed tonight.
Caroline: Define behaving?
Klaus: Not having fun.
She laughed, knowing that he was joking with her.
Caroline: I guess I'm misbehaving then.
Klaus: Have you been drinking?
Caroline: Of course.
Klaus: Has he touched you?
She knew that was the million dollar question he had been dying to ask. 'He' was obviously in reference to the male dancer.
Klaus: Don't play coy.
Caroline: He gave me a lovely lap dance.
There was a delay in response and she knew he was probably debating abandoning the hotel room altogether to beat the shit out of the male entertainer.
Klaus: Where did he touch you?
She shrugged, deciding to be honest with him.
Caroline: He touched my face, my shoulders, my hair, my legs; he grinded into my lap a little.
Klaus: Did you touch him?
Caroline: It costs extra to touch him.
Klaus: That wasn't my question.
Caroline: He let me touch his chest and abs free of charge.
Klaus: How lucky for you.
Klaus: Did you enjoy it?
Caroline: A little.
Was she supposed to say no? That would be a lie. Sure, the male dancer was paid to lavish attention on the party guests, but what girl didn't enjoy a gorgeous looking guy flirting with you - paid or not?
She knew his reply to her response would determine the kind of mood he was in.
Klaus: You're a naughty girl.
Okay, so horny was definitely better than angry and bitter.
Admittedly, she quite enjoyed knowing that he was jealously ruminating over her admissions.
She decided to play along.
Caroline: Perhaps you should come home and punish me?
Her cheeks reddened as she sent the message. She wasn't exactly a pro at sexting. Klaus was never gone very long for there to be a need for it. It wasn't something she had really been interested in.
The dull ache starting between her legs said otherwise, though.
Klaus: Sorry, Stefan is forcing me to have another lap dance.
She scoffed at his blunt and unsympathetic response. He was trying to get a rise out of her; balancing his desire for her with his annoyance.
Caroline: Forcing? Seriously? What does she look like?
Klaus: blonde, tiny waist, long legs, full breasts.
She could feel a tinge of jealousy surge within her. This stripper sounded like a porn star.
Caroline: Do you find her attractive?
Klaus: I do.
Her first instinct was rage, but for some reason she was intrigued. Her phone went off again in quick succession.
Klaus: She reminds me of you.
She decided to interpret the fact that a stripper reminded him of her as flattery.
Klaus: You're a much better dancer, however.
She smirked and blushed down at the phone.
Caroline: If you could call stripping a form of dance.
Klaus: It is when you strip for me.
Her skin burned with anxiety as she looked around the room to see if anyone was paying any more attention to her.
Caroline: Well it's too bad you're there then instead of here. My dances are free.
Klaus: Well it's too bad you're there then instead of here. You can touch me all you want free of charge.
She got the impression he was still bitter about her encounter with the stripper, so she decided to smooth things over as he had with his compliments to her.
Caroline: I only thought of you the entire time.
Klaus: Did you?
Her breathing hitched as her entire body felt like it was throbbing.
She glanced around the room again to find Elena now occupied with another stripper, while some of the girls cheered them on. They hadn't noticed her lack of participation. She was no longer interested in their fun. She was having some fun of her own.
Klaus's question was clearly an invitation to go further.
It was an invitation she couldn't act upon in the public confines of the living room. She would go crazy if she even attempted it.
So, she picked up her wine glass and quietly retreated from the room unnoticed up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Klaus.
She entered the dimly lit room and shut the door behind her.
Resting against it, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her nervous and aroused breathing.
Her body shook when her phone began to vibrate in her hand.
Klaus was calling her.
"Hey," she answered.
"Are you alone now?" he asked, the question and deep tone of his voice provoking goose bumps to form on her skin.
"I'll take that as a yes," he mused. "You're in our bedroom."
Damn him, she thought with a guilty smile as she took a sip of her wine.
"And you have wine," he observed.
She rolled her eyes and set the nearly empty glass on the nightstand on his usual side of the bed.
"It's all gone now," she said.
"Your breathing is heavy. Are you okay?" Klaus asked mirthfully.
She shrugged innocently as she started to pace.
"I just climbed an entire flight of stairs somewhat intoxicated," she suggested.
Klaus chuckled on the other end.
"Of course, that must be it," he said.
Of course it wasn't and he knew it.
"Where are you?" she asked curiously.
"In my hotel room," he replied.
"Alone?" she wondered.
"Indeed," he answered.
"What about the lap dance?" she inquired.
She could tell he was smirking on the other end of the phone.
"Your texts have proven to be quite the diversion;" he spoke, "much more intriguing than a monotonous dance routine."
A smile played on her lips.
"You look ravishing tonight by the way," he said.
"How do you know what I'm wearing?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he was toying with her and he had been here all along.
"Elena sent a picture to Elijah earlier. I couldn't help but notice the sexy blonde in the red mini-dress and heels standing beside her," he explained.
She sucked in a breath with his description.
"You know that is my favourite dress of yours," he said, a little bitter.
It was one of her favourites too. It made her feel sexy without looking like a complete whore, she thought. The back was low cut, and the front displayed just the right amount of cleavage.
"You bought it for me," she reminded him.
"Do you remember the first time you wore it?" he asked.
She grinned and blushed sheepishly as she thought back to that night.
"I do," she said.
"Why don't you make yourself more comfortable, sweetheart, and remind me," he urged.
"Take off your heels and sit down on the bed," he instructed.
Biting her lip anxiously, she slipped out of her heels slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed, the phone firmly attached to her ear.
"Okay," she said.
"Good girl," he cooed. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the red dress..." he hinted suggestively.
"It was a birthday present," she started. "We were in Amsterdam at the time. You took me out to dinner that night for the occasion so I wore the dress."
He laughed expectantly as he waited for her to continue.
"You failed to inform me that the unorthodox restaurant you were taking me to served the meal to you while you lied on an oversized bed. Needless to say my miniskirt didn't leave much to the imagination," she said, feigning annoyance that had long since dissipated.
"Of course it didn't," he mused, as though he had the entire thing planned.
"You offered me your jacket to cover my legs and luckily you had reserved for us an area to ourselves mostly out of sight from other patrons," she continued. "We had a five course meal, each with some strange entertainment intermission; one was a burlesque performance."
"I think your favourite part was dessert," he said, skipping ahead to the best part.
She smirked as her cheeks reddened; she was grateful he could not see her blush.
"You fingered me under the cover of the small bed table and your jacket while you fed me chocolate and chestnut macaroons," she 'reminded' him, shivering a little when she thought back to that night.
He let out a breathy sigh as he was no doubt reminiscing too.
"You almost say it resentfully," he teased her, knowing full well that she was far from resentful.
She laid back and sunk into the duvet on their bed.
"I was merely indulging your apparent penchant for exhibitionism," he teased. "You didn't exactly protest when I slipped my hand up your thigh."
Her eyes fell closed as she imagined the feeling of his rough fingertips running up the smoothness of her leg.
"In fact, you're the one who encouraged my hand higher," he added.
She tensed in anticipation as she hoped he would elaborate.
"You practically dared me to brush the lace of your panties aside," he explained. "I'm fairly certain our server knew what we were up to, but she said nothing."
With the phone in one hand, she discreetly brought her hand against the top of her thigh.
"I didn't touch you right away though. I teased you some more, tickling the insides of your thighs," he said, teasing her with his words as much as he had with his actions then.
Her hand mimicked his description, running along the inside of her thigh and tracing small circles there.
"You begged me to finally touch you, so I obliged. I cupped you over the thin material before I slipped my hand in between," he rasped.
She cupped herself as he had and then pushed the material of her underwear out of the way.
"I was already completely wet for it," she interjected.
"Indeed, my finger was drenched the moment I ran it over your slit," he affirmed.
Her body tingled at his description as she confirmed with her own index finger that she was already dripping now in this moment.
"I rolled your clit under my fingers a few times, before dipping them into your delicious heat," he retold.
She circled her throbbing clit lightly, purring quietly at the sensation. Her eyes shot open in panic, wondering if he heard her.
"You whimpered ravenously; and to any passerby, you simply appeared to be enthusiastically revelling in the taste of the dessert," he mused. "We both knew differently."
Letting out another sharp exhale, she heard him laugh on the other end.
"Is something the matter, love?" he asked curiously.
"No," she swallowed, biting her lip to stifle the desperate moan that wanted to escape her lips when she inserted a finger inside of herself.
She could tell he was smirking.
"By the next macaroon, you were writhing under my fingers as I teased your lovely little button into submission. You had to buried your fangs into my neck to conceal your verbal expressions of ecstasy as you came violently against my hand," he breathed. "I didn't think it was possible for my cock to get that hard for you," he added.
With much of her rational thought on hold, she gasped out loud as he described her orgasm and his physical reaction. His words and her touch at once were too overwhelming.
"I didn't think it was possible for me to cum that hard from your touch," she stammered.
He laughed with an intrigued tone.
"You're touching yourself right now, aren't you, sweetheart?" he asked.
Her stomach dropped with excitement as she looked up at the ceiling guiltily.
"Mmmhmm," she finally admitted.
She heard his frustrated sigh on the other end.
"Fuck, that is incredibly sexy," he murmured.
"I wish you were here," she practically whined.
"I wish I was there too. You know how much I love to watch you get yourself off," he said.
"Why don't you listen then," she suggested boldly.
Her eyes clenched shut in embarrassment for having let her body talk out of turn as she anticipated his response.
"I want you to get undressed. Put me on speakerphone," he instructed.
She stood up from the bed and selected the speakerphone option before setting her phone on the bed.
"Can you hear me?" she asked.
"I can," he replied. "You said you thought of me earlier. I want you to think of me again as you remove your dress," he said.
She nodded to herself.
"Run your hands over your hips, over your breasts, and then rest them on the straps of your dress," he instructed. "Imagine that I'm there standing behind you, my breath on your neck; my hands on top of yours."
Tensing, she imagined the palms of his hands over hers as she dragged her hands languidly along her hips and over her breasts. She stopped at the straps of her dress and waited for him to speak.
"Let the straps fall down your arms and the dress slip down your body," he urged.
Pushing the material past her shoulders, the silky material of the outfit caressed her body as it pooled around her feet.
The cool air of the room brushed over her heavy breasts and pert nipples as she was left standing there in nothing but a skimpy black thong.
She sucked in a breath and exhaled before stepping out of the dress.
"Your underwear too," he added.
Smirking at his attention to detail
"Talk to me, love. What would you have me do if I was there with you?" he asked interestedly.
Hesitation marked her expression.
"Come on," he cajoled her, "don't be shy."
Smirking with closed lips, she sat back down on the bed.
"I'd have you kiss me; my lips, my neck, my shoulders," she described as she fell back against the mattress beside her phone.
"I imagine your lips taste of wine and sweets," he replied.
She licked her lips to confirm his suspicions.
"Your hands," she started, trailing her own up her ribcage, "I would want them all over my body; up my legs, over my bottom, against my back, before finally resting on my breasts," she informed him.
Her hands did as she described and she fondled her breasts eagerly in an effort to release even an ounce of her sexual frustration.
"That always has been one of your favourite places to be touched," he murmured into the phone.
"And it always has been your favourite part of my body to touch," she retorted, hissing under her breath as she let her fingers slide over her nipples.
"Your breasts do fit into my hands quite perfectly," he told her.
She felt more evidence of her arousal gush between her legs.
"I want to kiss them too; your nipples especially," he said, "I know there's nothing that makes you wetter than that," he said.
"Save for you describing it," she interrupted as she continued to tease herself relentlessly.
He chuckled into the phone.
"This excites you?" he asked with intrigued surprise.
"Yes," she breathed.
"How does it feel when you run your hands over them?" he asked.
She thought about it for a moment as she concentrated on the feeling.
"Relaxing, exciting, erotic," she described. "It makes me ache to be touched."
He let out a pleasurable sigh, and she wondered if he too was touching himself.
"I want to touch you," he said yearningly. "As I kiss your chest I want to feel how wet you are for me."
"Touch me," she whispered unexpectedly as she let one of her hands descend down her stomach.
If she had of dwelled on it, she might have been embarrassed, but most of her inhibitions had gone out the window by this point.
"You're dripping aren't you?" he asked knowingly as her fingers returned to her pulsating core.
"Mmmhmm," she replied, indulging in the sensation the subtle movements of her fingers were providing her with.
He groaned almost hungrily.
"I love the way your slick velvety folds feel against my fingers, Caroline. I wish I could see your beautifully wanton expression," he cooed.
"It feels so good," she answered; it was all she could muster as her ecstasy began to grow.
"Taste yourself," he instructed.
She whimpered as her fingers involuntarily stopped circling her clit with his demand.
Bringing her index finger up to her lips, she drew it into her mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip before withdrawing it with a popping noise to ensure that he knew she had followed his direction.
She heard him growl under his breath in response.
"You taste like sweet and sour sauce don't you?" he wondered.
A smile spread across her face as she realized that his description was probably the most accurate way to describe it. It was tangy and sugary all at once, with a small hint of salt.
"Sort of," she replied.
"It is a deliciously unique taste," he agreed, "one I could sample for hours if you'd let me," he rasped.
"If you were here I would," she said decidedly as she let her hand find its way back between her legs. "I want to feel your tongue on my pussy," she sighed, a little startled by the expletive she used to describe her womanhood.
She could tell Klaus was smiling on the other end of the phone. He knew when she started using dirty words during their most intimate moments that she was beyond sexually excited.
"Stroke yourself with your fingers," he said, "Imagine that I'm on my knees in between your legs and it's my mouth pressed against your delectable folds instead; that it's my lips kissing your clit, my tongue consuming your sweet nectar, but do not cum yet," he ordered.
Her hands began to work her body a little faster, lost in his words and the visual imagery they left behind.
She moaned softly into the phone in response to her own touch.
"Mmm, yes," she panted. "But..." she started, stopping herself.
"But what, love?" he asked.
She bit her lip as her teasing continued.
"I want to taste you too. I want to suck you off," she breathed, "at the same time."
The guttural groan he released almost made her think he had cum right then.
"Would you like it if I straddled your face while I licked you?" she asked shakily.
"You have no idea," he assured her seductively.
The sixty-nine position wasn't something they often did in real life.
Affirmed in her desire, she let the mental images flow.
"Are you touching yourself?" she wondered curiously.
He laughed through a heavy breath.
"Love, I've been hard for you since you texted me and said you were misbehaving; I've been stroking myself since I first heard your bated breath on the phone," he revealed.
"I'm sure my tongue stroking up and down your cock would feel better than your hand," she murmured excitedly.
"It would feel even better while you're riding my face with that delicious pussy of yours," he growled.
"Imagine my wet tongue drawing small circles on your swelling clit. I know that's how you like to be licked," he said through laboured breaths. "I also know that if I buried a finger inside of you, I could have you cumming in seconds," he added.
One step ahead of him, she swiftly slipped two fingers inside of herself while the palm of her hand pressed delightfully against her clit.
"Finger me; make me cum while I fuck you with my mouth," she begged him like a common whore.
This felt so terribly wrong, but amazingly right at the same time.
She was on the precipice of her release as she thrust her fingers frantically and groped at her breasts.
"Don't stop touching yourself; think about how good it feels. Think about how my mouth would feel instead of your fingers; think about my tongue lapping at your centre; me taking your little pink pearl between my lips while my fingers thrust inside of you as you take me into your mouth," he grunted.
Every muscle in her body was tense as she writhed under the manipulation of her fingers.
"I'm so close," she whined.
"Let go, sweetheart. Cum on my face," he urged her.
"Fuck, Nik. I'm cumming!" she whimpered. Her body shook uncontrollably as she pulsed intensely around her fingers. "Cum with me; cum in my mouth," she pleaded desperately.
She sighed contentedly when she heard him begin to moan her name and grunt incoherently. The sound of him climaxing triggered a few pleasant aftershocks throughout her body.
For a few minutes, their conversation consisted purely of their laboured breathing as they tried to recover from their orgasms.
As she came down from her sexual high, her inhibitions returned as she began to replay their explicit conversation in her head. In this moment she found herself relieved that he was not there physically beside her.
"Oh my god," she mused with an embarrassed tone as she wiped the sweat off her forehead and covered her eyes. "I can't believe that just happened," she said.
He laughed softly.
"You're amazing," he said to her encouragingly as she picked up her phone and turned off the speaker feature.
"Am I?" she said unsurely, worried that her foul mouth had intimidated him.
He scoffed at her insecurity.
"That was one of the sexiest things we've ever done," he assured her. "Hearing you climax was incredible. It's safe to say that my Armani pants are ruined."
She giggled and then yawned.
"Climb into bed," he told her.
She hesitated at first, thinking about the makeup she wanted to remove and the pyjamas she wanted to slip into, but her legs felt like Jell-o and she had no desire to climb off the bed now.
Doing as he told her, she pulled back the blankets and turned off the bedside lamp before rolling onto his side of the bed,
"Are you on my side of the bed?" he asked.
"Yes," she admitted guiltily. "Your pillow smells like your shampoo and cologne."
"Close your eyes," he instructed.
"I'll be home tomorrow evening, so you should probably get some sleep while you can," he warned her amusedly. "I love you, sweetheart."
Her stomach clenched happily at his words as she let out another small yawn.
"I love you too," she replied.
The call was promptly ended there; they never parted with good-bye.