OTP challenge phase 3; Stefan/Klaus fic
Title; A taste
Author; swirlsofblue
Team; Vampire/Witches
Summary; Stefan only wants a taste.
Pairing; Klaus/Stefan
Disclaimer; I don't own the vampire diaries.
Word Count; 500
Stefan’s fingers twine in Klaus’s belt-loops, pulling away and closer, up and down, mind too frazzled to think as his body crunches like lettuce; sandwiched between a juggernaut grinding into him and stalwart brickwork.
Klaus’s body pleasantly stings his icy skin--he hasn’t had his coffee yet--as their bare torsos and limbs twist about each other.
“What would you like?” Klaus whispers coyly.
Stefan double-takes, Klaus never asks; only does as he pleases. Stefan’s expression is shaded with false confidence when he answers with something he has been too afraid to ask.
“A taste.”
Klaus gives Stefan a measured look for a moment, before breaking into a feral grin;
“Okay.”
Stefan disregards any hesitancy as he moves--Klaus wouldn’t appreciate it--fangs instantly driving into Klaus’s jugular. He knows when the blood hits his tongue that a taste will never be enough; it’s like an elixir, infinitesimally sweet somehow without being too sweet, filled with textures and flavours Stefan has never comprehended before. Stefan purses his lips against Klaus’s throat, not wanting to miss a drop, drinking deeply until Klaus finally pulls away. Stefan resists the urge to follow.
**
“Can I have some more?” Stefan asks the next day, trying to hide the sheer overwhelming extent of his eagerness.
Klaus--who’s lounging on the sofa--flings an arm in Stefan’s direction, smiling wryly but not bothering to even look up.
Stefan’s jaw latches crocodile-like against Klaus’s wrist. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and squashes his tongue against the whimper that forms when the arm is taken away.
**
He drinks Klaus’s blood the next day, and the day after, until a week after Stefan’s first taste when he realises it’s no longer desire, it’s need.
“You did this on purpose!” Stefan accuses, refusing to drink despite the sweat sheen on his skin.
“You asked.”
“You could’ve said no!”
“How else would I keep you here, whatever happens, you’ll always come back now,” Klaus says with a wild smirk.
Stefan doesn’t walk out, reminds himself he was here in the first place because he wanted to be.
**
Stefan detoxes. Klaus says nothing, does nothing. A day later Stefan’s insides are engulfed with a ferocious itch, accompanied the next day with skin greying painfully.
On the fourth day of his detox Stefan doesn’t sleep at night, time is spent forever gaping at Klaus, incisors descended, imagining the blood flowing just beneath the surface. He draws an invisible line along Klaus’s arm with his finger, watching skin pale and darken as he applies pressure, can’t help desperately longing for the delicious liquid only a hair’s breadth away. Klaus doesn’t stir, even though Stefan knows he’s aware of him.
When Klaus does finally deign to give Stefan some attention, it’s the next morning, the sun already making its way across the sky. Klaus shoots him an amused look.
“Would you like another taste?”
Stefan replies with an expression of brooding consternation--he knows exactly what he’s getting himself into.
“Yes.”
Author; swirlsofblue
Team; Vampire/Witches
Summary; Stefan only wants a taste.
Pairing; Klaus/Stefan
Disclaimer; I don't own the vampire diaries.
Word Count; 500
Stefan’s fingers twine in Klaus’s belt-loops, pulling away and closer, up and down, mind too frazzled to think as his body crunches like lettuce; sandwiched between a juggernaut grinding into him and stalwart brickwork.
Klaus’s body pleasantly stings his icy skin--he hasn’t had his coffee yet--as their bare torsos and limbs twist about each other.
“What would you like?” Klaus whispers coyly.
Stefan double-takes, Klaus never asks; only does as he pleases. Stefan’s expression is shaded with false confidence when he answers with something he has been too afraid to ask.
“A taste.”
Klaus gives Stefan a measured look for a moment, before breaking into a feral grin;
“Okay.”
Stefan disregards any hesitancy as he moves--Klaus wouldn’t appreciate it--fangs instantly driving into Klaus’s jugular. He knows when the blood hits his tongue that a taste will never be enough; it’s like an elixir, infinitesimally sweet somehow without being too sweet, filled with textures and flavours Stefan has never comprehended before. Stefan purses his lips against Klaus’s throat, not wanting to miss a drop, drinking deeply until Klaus finally pulls away. Stefan resists the urge to follow.
**
“Can I have some more?” Stefan asks the next day, trying to hide the sheer overwhelming extent of his eagerness.
Klaus--who’s lounging on the sofa--flings an arm in Stefan’s direction, smiling wryly but not bothering to even look up.
Stefan’s jaw latches crocodile-like against Klaus’s wrist. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and squashes his tongue against the whimper that forms when the arm is taken away.
**
He drinks Klaus’s blood the next day, and the day after, until a week after Stefan’s first taste when he realises it’s no longer desire, it’s need.
“You did this on purpose!” Stefan accuses, refusing to drink despite the sweat sheen on his skin.
“You asked.”
“You could’ve said no!”
“How else would I keep you here, whatever happens, you’ll always come back now,” Klaus says with a wild smirk.
Stefan doesn’t walk out, reminds himself he was here in the first place because he wanted to be.
**
Stefan detoxes. Klaus says nothing, does nothing. A day later Stefan’s insides are engulfed with a ferocious itch, accompanied the next day with skin greying painfully.
On the fourth day of his detox Stefan doesn’t sleep at night, time is spent forever gaping at Klaus, incisors descended, imagining the blood flowing just beneath the surface. He draws an invisible line along Klaus’s arm with his finger, watching skin pale and darken as he applies pressure, can’t help desperately longing for the delicious liquid only a hair’s breadth away. Klaus doesn’t stir, even though Stefan knows he’s aware of him.
When Klaus does finally deign to give Stefan some attention, it’s the next morning, the sun already making its way across the sky. Klaus shoots him an amused look.
“Would you like another taste?”
Stefan replies with an expression of brooding consternation--he knows exactly what he’s getting himself into.
“Yes.”