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icouldletyoudieHe let her sleep in. He woke, showered, dressed...had a lengthy discussion with Elijah about the situation with the witches and the problem with Marcel's rule of the city. He came to New Orleans to be king, he came to take back his home...but it was no longer that simple. There were other factors to consider, the witches were an enemy and Marcel had them over a barrel.
Marcel had what Klaus wanted...and at the same time, Klaus had something else. He had a weapon of his own, a sword of Damocles ready to bring down on Marcel's head. He was still stringing it up, but when it swung high, it would be a terrifying sight.
That sword, however...was Lydia Martin. Clever and sensual and intimately experienced with the nature of power. She accepted his nature without accepting his flaws, believed he could be better. She endured his temper without fear or trepidation, she met him as though she had the power to kill him. She moved through the world like she owned it...she was every bit the weapon he needed.
And he was growing increasingly certain he could not live without her. More than anyone, she was the reason he still had his family by his side. Even Rebekah, though she skulked around with some bloke he was certain he had to kill...she was ever herself, and still by his side. She liked the girls, and she tolerated him.
Their family had not been so close to what they had now since Mikael had forced them out of New Orleans over ninety years before.
Marcel was growing increasingly paranoid, and Klaus saw an opening. He meant to take it, and today...and he'd have left twenty minutes ago for the Quarter if not for the fact that Lydia was straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of her bed, kissing him like he was the last living creature on Earth.
He'd come to see if she was awake. He'd come to assure her he'd be back later, but Marcel's name had come up and he was fairly certain she was stalling him.
Her tactics were delightful...but still stalling him, all the same.
"If you think...you're going to distract me into...a tryst when I'm busy," he finally managed between ardent kisses, "I'm afraid...you're sadly...mistaken..."
He trailed off, swallowing a growl as she nipped his lower lip, then let his hands fall to her hips to tug her closer as he kissed her back hard.
Marcel had what Klaus wanted...and at the same time, Klaus had something else. He had a weapon of his own, a sword of Damocles ready to bring down on Marcel's head. He was still stringing it up, but when it swung high, it would be a terrifying sight.
That sword, however...was Lydia Martin. Clever and sensual and intimately experienced with the nature of power. She accepted his nature without accepting his flaws, believed he could be better. She endured his temper without fear or trepidation, she met him as though she had the power to kill him. She moved through the world like she owned it...she was every bit the weapon he needed.
And he was growing increasingly certain he could not live without her. More than anyone, she was the reason he still had his family by his side. Even Rebekah, though she skulked around with some bloke he was certain he had to kill...she was ever herself, and still by his side. She liked the girls, and she tolerated him.
Their family had not been so close to what they had now since Mikael had forced them out of New Orleans over ninety years before.
Marcel was growing increasingly paranoid, and Klaus saw an opening. He meant to take it, and today...and he'd have left twenty minutes ago for the Quarter if not for the fact that Lydia was straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of her bed, kissing him like he was the last living creature on Earth.
He'd come to see if she was awake. He'd come to assure her he'd be back later, but Marcel's name had come up and he was fairly certain she was stalling him.
Her tactics were delightful...but still stalling him, all the same.
"If you think...you're going to distract me into...a tryst when I'm busy," he finally managed between ardent kisses, "I'm afraid...you're sadly...mistaken..."
He trailed off, swallowing a growl as she nipped his lower lip, then let his hands fall to her hips to tug her closer as he kissed her back hard.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 04:20 am (UTC)...oh, she was rotten.
"How...will I show Marcel action?" he asked, voice growing rough as he turned to lick a hot stripe along the side of her throat, teasing himself with the pulse of blood beneath the skin. "Well, the simple way...would be to kill him..."
He paused, then drew back to look into her eyes with a playful smile before he abruptly lay back on the bed, dragging her down on top of him. He wasn't staying, of course, but she was a sight over him, those strawberry tresses spilling over her shoulders and around them in a curtain of red-gold silk. A personal indulgence, nothing more.
"...but I have a feeling you'd frown on that." he mused with a smirk.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 04:30 am (UTC)"Why kill him? Would that really give you the satisfaction you're looking for?" She moved her other hand to his face, teasing her fingers along his cheekbone as she leaned down to kiss him again. This time it was soft and sweet, counteracting the teasing heat from a moment before but she liked to keep him guessing.
"I mean, you really only want your kingdom, don't?" She asked as she lifted her head to look at him again, watching his face as she deliberately rolled her hips to slide against his barely restrained arousal. The friction was bittersweet, setting off little sparks as denim rubbed through damp silk but she knew that he liked it as much as she did.