Archive of Our Own

Klaus knows he has more important things to do, and this isn’t the time, but Rebekah always comes before revenge, perhaps now more than ever. He has missed her, and even as she’s sprawled beneath him, naked and unusually patient, he still misses her. This body of hers is so different from her original one, the one he’s known for a thousand years. There is dark, curly hair instead of blonde and straight, brown skin instead of golden, dark eyes instead of the same blue as his own, and yet she’s still impossibly beautiful. A part of him wishes he has time to paint her, her in this different body, naked, glorious and still his.

He’s still fully clothed, because this isn’t about him, not really, it’s about her, and giving her what she deserves. He knows he has to hold back with her like he’s never had to before, she’s no longer an Original, but a fragile witch, he can so easily break her. She sucks in a breath when he presses his lips to the hollow of her throat, whispering his apology again, he couldn’t stop the spell, he was supposed to protect her, swore to her that he would get her out if everything went south. She just tangles long fingers into his hair and mutters that it doesn’t matter, they’re together now.

He runs a hand down the smooth skin of her thigh, hitching it over his hips so he can ground down into her, and she whimpers at the friction, digs her fingers tighter into his scalp. Her body is different, so different, but she is still completely and utterly Rebekah Mikaelson, in mind, soul and mannerisms. The latter proven when she finally becomes impatient and begins tugging at his shirt, threatening to rip it in her hurry. She isn’t as strong as she used to be, but a thousand years has made her stronger than most, and he laughs when she does actually manage to tear his shirt, shoving it off of his shoulders.

He isn’t surprised, she’s told him all the ways she fought when she had been trapped in the asylum, just another reason he’s going to make Kol pay, but again, that’s going to happen later. The sensible part of himself tells him Rebekah is safe now, with him, she’s not going anywhere, and he needs to focus on getting rid of Finn, making Kol suffer, protecting his daughter. But at this moment, he doesn’t care, Finn doesn’t frighten him, despite his considerable power, Rebekah will want to deal with Kol on her own, and Hope is safe with Elijah, who will gladly murder anyone who so much as looks at his niece in the wrong way.

As always, his sister’s needs and wants come first, no matter how many times he’s ridiculed her over the years for her demands. She has a right to demand everything now, after all that she’s done for him, he still hasn’t properly thanked her for taking care of Hope, for protecting her and making her happy. She had apologized over and over again for not being able to keep her hidden from Esther, but he had told her it was inevitable, their mother has always been crafty. But Esther no longer matters, nothing really does when Rebekah presses her mouth to his, her tongue meeting his, and she tastes so different, but she kisses the same.

She runs her tongue along his teeth and he groans into her mouth, pulls her closer, and he’s really missed her. From finally letting her go live her own life, to having to watch her leave again, except with his daughter, to the past week of being terrified that he’d never find her again thanks to Kol’s antics. The idea of losing her for good makes him dig his fingers into her hip, and she hisses sharply, pulling away from the kiss to glare at him. He gives her a crooked little smile, glances down at the mark he’s left on her skin, and instead of apologizing verbally, he leans her back onto the sheets and slides down to suck at the red bruise.

This is something else that is new, where before any mark he’d leave on her, be it teeth marks, or hickeys, they would just fade away moments later. Not now though, oh he knows he still has to be careful, but he’s honestly becoming fond of her vessel now, even more so when he parts her thighs to taste her. She’s so wet and warm, there’s already signs of her arousal on his jeans from earlier, she squirms restlessly at his ministrations, and he holds her hips down, being sure not to bruise her again. It was bad enough before he had even stripped her of her clothing, she had been ready for him even then, he had been able to smell it, but now he’s surrounded by her, her new scent and taste, and she completely clouds his head, his senses.

He slides two fingers inside of her, gives her a long lick, and it sends her over the edge, as she keens out his nickname loudly, her back arching off of the bed, and he hungrily laps up her juices. She’s still trembling when he’s done, as he leans up to affectionately kiss her nose, and she licks away the remaining traces of herself off of his chin, before her hands dart out to work on his belt. He gives a grin at her eagerness, her need, just as primal as his own, and he nips at her jawline. He’s quickly learned that her vessel responds differently than her original body, licking behind her ear makes her giggle now instead of moan, mouthing her nipples makes her wince, and her vessel has a strange enjoyment of him taking her fingers into his mouth.

He growls low in his throat when her hand sneaks into his boxers to wrap her fingers around his length, strong, sure strokes that make him even harder than he was before. She gives a proud smirk when he mutters her name roughly, hips jerking to meet her strokes. He reaches out to tangle his fingers into her curly hair, brings their foreheads together, needing as much contact from her as he can get, inhaling her air each time she exhales. He actually whimpers when she ceases stroking him, glares at her laugh, but she just places her hand on his mouth, and he takes her fingers in between his teeth, tongue licking at the traces of himself.

She gives a little delighted sigh, and then tugs at his jeans again, making it clear just what she wants, why she didn’t get him off like he did for her, she wants him inside of her, and he’s more than happy to oblige. In just seconds, he’s removed his jeans and boxers, and is back on the bed with her, and she pouts at the fact she no longer possesses such speed, a pretty pout that he easily kisses away, as he gently pushes her down, hovering over her. It’s such a cliche that they both gasp when he slides into her, holding each other’s gazes, she bites down on her lower lip, and practically wraps herself around him, her legs around his hips, her arms over his shoulders, nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood. He knows that’s her silent command to tell him to move, but he doesn’t just yet, he wants to memorize this moment.

He can hear her heart beating erratically, smell her sweet blood rushing through her veins, and he wants this, needs her and everything she has to offer. As if she’s read his mind, she gives a tiny smirk and tilts her head back, exposing the beautiful skin of her neck, and his mouth actually waters. He knows what she’s silently willing to give him, he hasn’t tasted her since becoming a hybrid, refused to give her days of fevers and delusions, but now he doesn’t have to worry about any of it. He knows it won’t be the same, it won’t be his sweet sister’s blood, but the blood that belongs to this vessel, honestly, he’ll take what he can get when it comes to her.

His eyes turn from blue to golden yellow, veins spidering across his face, blunt teeth sharpening into fangs, and he sinks them into her skin. She doesn’t so much as wince, arches even closer to him with a breathy whimper that sends him into a tailspin. Any other woman, and she’d be drained dry, but it’s Rebekah, and she’s delicious, and he tastes power and old magic in her new blood, and it makes him finally start to move his hips, slow thrusts that leave her gasping. He pulls his fangs free from her neck, greedily running his tongue over the leftover blood. He brings up his wrist to bite down into it, give her his blood to heal her, but she beats him to the punch, snatching his wrist to her mouth, and biting down hard. It takes her a little time, more effort with blunt teeth, but his skin finally breaks and she’s drinking him in.

All these years, he thinks he knows everything about her, yet she still manages to surprise him, witches are not fond of vampire blood, or blood in general, but her eyes are closed and she’s clearly content. He watches as the bite he gave her heals, like it’s never been there in the first place, and she finally pulls her mouth away from his wrist, his own wound vanishing. She’s so magnificent like this, panting, her lips stained red with his blood, that he has no choice but to kiss her again, the slick, heavy copper taste on his tongue nearly makes him lose control right there and then.

But then she surprises him again, by shoving him onto his back, straddling him, as she begins rocking against him in a frenzied pace. He can do nothing but clutch at her hips and meet her thrust for thrust, he’s always preferred being on top, not because of domination, but because he always wants to look at her face, lock their gazes together, watch her as she comes. But this is something else she deserves, the right to control how this goes, her sweat slick hands digging into his shoulders, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and she is a goddess, a queen reborn, and his, his, his.

Every other woman he’s been with in his long life has never been about anything but sex, with Rebekah, it’s more than that, it’s connection, it’s love, it’s everything. He knows she’s aware of it without him ever having to say the words, though if she asks, he thinks he might be willing to answer. Being without her for so long has changed him, he’s not sure if it’s for the better or not, she’s always been his ultimate weakness, but he can’t let her go again, he just can’t.

She clenches around him as he sits up to kiss her again, biting down on her lower lip, before his mouth moves to her jawline, licking away her sweat, tracing upwards until he reaches her ear to whisper thank you, love, you are home. His words make her come again, and she’s like an uncontrolled animal, a woman possessed, digging her teeth into his shoulder and sobbing violently, hips spasming, inner muscles clenching around him, demanding him to follow her.

So he does, swiftly flipping them over again so that he’s on top, forcing her dark eyes to open, wet with tears, as he reaches down to slip his hand into hers, tangling their fingers together. She murmurs his nickname repeatedly, sweet and soft, continuing to push up against him, and it’s enough to make him spill inside of her, kissing her roughly to stop himself from crying out her name. It’s only a few minutes later that he realizes what he’s done, she’s human now, and filled with him, because he hadn’t used protection. Why would he have? He’s never had to before, he had thought he had learned his lesson with Hayley.

When he tries to tell her this, she just laughs and shakes her head, sweaty and glowing, carding her fingers through his hair, and he knows that this is what she’s always wanted, every little part of him she can have. And now he’s given her everything he possibly can, there’s a part of him that hopes it sticks, watch her grow large with his child, because he wants it just as much as she does, he wants to share everything with her. But his sensible side knows how much trouble and danger will be brought down upon their heads if it happens, possibly even worse than with Hope, and neither of them want to know what Elijah’s reaction would be.

She takes his hand, places it over her stomach, lips curving into a smile as she states we deserve this, Nik. And he thinks maybe she’s right, he presses a kiss to her forehead, and pulls out of her, biting back his groan at no longer being inside of her. He allows her to bask in her afterglow for a few minutes, as he pulls his clothes back on, before turning to face her, a small smile gracing his lips at seeing her sleepy and sated. But they’ve used up enough time already, as much as he wants to keep her like this, his mind swirling with the colors and brushes he’d use to paint this image that would be for his eyes only, they really have work to do.

He graces her with one last, deep, long kiss, longing for her already filling his veins before he tells her to get dressed, they have things to do, and brothers to hunt down. He laughs at her angry grumbling, at the way she winces slightly when she collects her clothing, and her irritated glare. He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand and grins at her, he can’t wait to see what she’s capable of now, everybody that’s crossed them will pay for it now, and when her dark eyes glint with revenge and determination, he knows it’s true. Come what may, they have each other, and nothing or no one will tear them apart again.