Work Text:
No Time For Common Sense
(Prompt: "both of us are trying out for the same chaser spot on the quidditch team and once it's clear we're the best there by far we start doing progressively crazier stunts to outdo each other" au. SMUT)
Caroline's limping when she makes her way out of the shower stall, her flip flops slapping loudly on the tile floors. The locker room is quiet since the other women trying out for the team had been quicker than she was. She liked them all, which was a bonus. They'd made plans to get together for brunch over the weekend, to compare notes about their tryout experiences.
She'd heard them file out a half hour ago, talking and giggling, while Caroline had still been wincing through shampooing her hair. Her left side feels like one continuous bruise and her knee is screaming bloody murder courtesy of a rough landing. She'd barely managed to pull out of a spin before crashing into the ground, had been thrown from her broom and hit the grass in a roll.
At least she'd managed to keep a hold of the quaffle.
That seemed like a small victory now that Caroline can barely bend her leg but she'd take it. Stairs are going to be a bitch tomorrow. She's dreading the lecture she'll have to sit through when she drags herself to Bonnie. Bon's one of Caroline's oldest friends and a current mediwitch in training and has glared disapprovingly while patching up Caroline's more minor injuries.
Of which there have been many.
As sore as she is it's nothing she hasn't dealt with before over the last few weeks. Tryouts for the New Orleans quidditch team are notoriously brutal, sabotage among hopefuls not uncommon. There was a single chaser spot open this year and Caroline was determined to get it. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one gunning for the position. She'd already made it through two cuts and there was one other person left in the running. The worst possible person.
In addition to being a giant pain in the ass Kol Mikaelson was also the brother of the team's captain which was why Caroline was pushing herself, and her body, to such extremes. She knew she was better than Kol, that she would work harder. She only had to convince Klaus.
And she would.
A throat clears, startling her, and Caroline's hand flies to the knotted towel at her chest, checking that it's secure. Her jaw drops for a moment when she sees Klaus lounging on one of the benches, looking perfectly at ease despite the humidity and the tendrils of steam floating around the room. "Can't you read?" Caroline hisses before she can even think about reconsidering. "This is the women's locker room."
Klaus grins in response and she feels a little relieved that he seems completely unoffended. He's mostly seemed amused when her mouth had gotten away from her on the pitch – had laughed when he'd caught her muttering creative threats under her breath after a beater hopeful with more biceps than brains had nearly taken her head off. She gives him points for not getting pissy when her ire is directed his way. She'd have been livid if she'd just killed her chances by snarling a reprimand, mild though it had been, at him. "I read perfectly well, sweetheart. I just thought I'd make sure you were alright. You hit the ground hard. Left a bit of a dent."
Was he seriously concerned about the grass? Klaus had a reputation for being kind of a dick but that was a little much. "I'll send a note of apology to the groundskeeper," Caroline replies, not attempting to hide the sharp edge as she glares at him. She flips her hair over her shoulder, turning towards her locker. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"
Klaus interrupts her with a harsh noise, and suddenly he's touching her. Caroline stills, lets out a soft pained grunt when his fingertips brush over a particularly sore patch of skin near her shoulder blade. "Sorry," he murmurs, immediately lightening the pressure. "That looks bad."
"It didn't feel great," Caroline admits, remembering how she'd felt like all her bones had been jarred, how she'd laid there dazed and aching until Kol had touched down next to her, taunted her until she'd dragged herself to her feet.
He hums in acknowledgement, pressing slow soothing circles into her skin. She relaxes into it for a moment, head tipping to the side in relief before she catches herself, tossing a wary look over her shoulder, "If you're the kind of skeeze who's going to try to get me to sleep with you in return for a good word with the coaches I will make you regret it."
"That'd be a bit useless considering you've already been selected."
It takes a moment for that to sink in but when it does Caroline whirls, her wet hair slapping her shoulders, "Shut up."
He looks incredulous, "You've been working yourself to death, Caroline. Have been taking frankly insane risks in the drills and managing impressive plays. Of course you made the team."
The only thing stopping her from breaking out into a victory dance is the fact that she knows it'll hurt. And that she's not sure her towel's up to the strain. "What about Kol?"
Klaus shrugs, "Honestly, Kol and I as teammates would be a disaster. One of us would likely end up dead and then those obligatory family dinners would be even frostier."
He seems perfectly nonchalant, his eyes on her face, and Caroline finds herself relaxing. She offers him a small smile, "Well, thanks for the info."
"Your agent will be getting a call first thing tomorrow. Try to act surprised, yeah?"
Caroline can totally manage that. Thank you, drama minor. "Will do."
"I brought some bruise paste," Klaus tells her, hefting a familiar jar. "Will you let me help you?"
She bites her lip, considering the offer. She hadn't allowed herself to flirt with Klaus, though she's definitely had the opportunity, and had sensed he'd be amenable, not wanting the distraction during tryouts.
Which were over now.
Maybe she could celebrate that fact, and her brand new awesome job, with something better than Haagen Daas.
As long as they got a few things straight first, "Is this a regular thing for you? Do you nurse sore muscles and soothe the bruises of all your teammates?"
"Hardly," Klaus denies. "If I offered I think they'd insist I had a concussion."
"So why me?"
He doesn't shift, makes no attempt to dodge her eyes. Merely tips his head to the side, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile, "Surely you've noted my interest? You took great pains to avoid my attempts to engage you in conversation that first evening when everyone went out."
"And yet you kept trying."
He nods, conceding the point. "Admitting defeat is not in my nature, love. And I rather thought you looked my way too often for someone who wasn't interested."
Ugh, she'd thought she'd been subtle. Caroline hadn't been able to stop herself from watching him, cataloguing the differences in his body and how he moved without quidditch pads. She's been a little tipsy by the end of the night, and his shirtsleeves had been pushed up, the buttons at his collar undone. It was entirely possible she hadn't been able to mask her appreciation.
He's waiting for her answer, patient and expectant and she shakes herself. "I didn't want things to get messy during tryouts."
"And now that tryouts are over?" Klaus asks, edging forward the slightest bit. Close enough that she could reach out and pull him closer.
It's a tempting thought.
Caroline takes a deep breath and turns, giving him her back once more, gathering her hair over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. She hears him open the jar, starts a little at the coldness of it as he begins to spread it on her skin. "Sorry," he murmurs, and she almost jumps again in surprise at how close he is, his warmth emanating faintly along her back.
Caroline shakes her head, doing her very best to stop her spine from melting under the soothing strokes of his palm, "It's fine."
Klaus, it seems, is determined to drive her insane. He leans closer, and she feels his breathe on her bare shoulder. "Let's hope this stops your pretty skin from turning black and blue."
This time she does shiver. Klaus hand skims lower in response, tracing the edge of her towel. She can feel his question though he stays silent. She inhales, the slightest bit shaky, loosening the knot and letting the towel slip lower, so the entirety of her back is exposed. His hands rest on her still covered hips gently, turning until he can sink down onto the bench with her in front of him. Her toes curl into the tiles when she feels his exhale against the base of her spine.
She half expects him to tug the towel away from her unresisting fingertips but he continues his work on her back, moving methodically down the length of her spine, spreading the bruise paste outwards until her head's rolled forward and she's got her lips pressed together to keep in her moans.
His hands are freaking incredible.
She can't quite stop the noise of complaint from spilling out when he stops. His answering sound of amusement is low, a little rough, and she's pretty sure he's breathing a little harshly when he stands. "That should suffice. Can I drive you to your hotel, sweetheart?"
Was he serious?!
She spins and shoves him back onto the bench before she can talk herself out of it. Caroline grips his shoulders and settles into his lap, pleased when his arms encircle her waist. His cock is also quite clearly straining the zipper of his jeans, and his jaw tightens when she rolls her hips against him. It was good to know she hadn't just made a total ass out of herself.
"That," she tells him severely, curling a hand around his neck, "was the kind of foreplay that romance novels are built on. 'Drive me back to my hotel?' Puh-lease."
The towel's still gathered around her waist between them and his hands slip upwards, gliding over the bare skin of her ribs, his thumbs teasing the underside of her breasts, still faintly cool from the menthol in the bruise paste. "Did you have something else in mind?" he asks, blinking up at her far too innocently for someone who's practically feeling her up.
Caroline's not really on board with the 'practically' part, arches her back in an unsubtle hint that has the added benefit of grinding their lower bodies together in a way that has Klaus hissing out a curse and Caroline's eyes fluttering at the pleasure of it. In case that wasn't enough of a hint she ducks her head, brushing her lips over his. Klaus leans back slightly, head tipping up so his mouth catches hers firmly, his lips parting in invitation.
One Caroline takes, delving into his mouth greedily, her fingertips skimming his throat, discovering the texture of his stubble as she tastes him for the first time.
She kisses him until she can't breathe, goes in for another once she sucks in a much needed lungful of air. Klaus is just as eager, hands beginning to wander and Caroline hums her approval when he cups her breast, rubbing over the tight peak, testing her reactions. There's something familiar about the callouses on his hand and he pulls back to watch her face, studying her reactions as he touches her, before his head dips. His mouth is hot on her nipple and Caroline runs her hand through his hair as he sucks, tugs when she feels the edge of his teeth. Klaus takes that as encouragement, switching sides as his hands slide up her thighs. He traces the crease of where her leg meets her torso, a pleased rumble coming from him at the dampness he finds there. "Do not even think about being smug," she warns him, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"Me? Smug, never."
She's about to call bullshit, because she's observed him enough over the last couple weeks to know that Klaus has a more than healthy ego, when he tugs the towel the rest of the way off, leaving her naked and spread across his lap.
The lap that remains fully clothed, which just isn't fair in Caroline's opinion. She makes quick work of his shirt but doesn't have time to consider the best way to get his pants off before he's distracting her. He's managed to insinuate his hand in between their bodies, stroking over her folds and she digs her nails into his shoulders to steady herself as she tenses. His hands are warm but there's a faint tingle because of the leftover ointment and it makes her squirm. Klaus kisses her collarbone, his voice a low rasp, "Tell me if I do anything you don't like. Tell me what you do like."
She nods mindlessly, pressing closer, letting out a sigh as his touch deepens, his fingers becoming slick as he learns her body. The words stick in her throat but Klaus doesn't seem to need them, reading the twitching of her muscles, the whines and moans that tumble from her easily until he's got two fingers pressed inside of her while his thumb does lazy circuits around her clit.
Klaus doesn't seem to be having the same trouble speaking, murmuring delicious filth in her ear, telling her how good she feels around his fingers, how he can't wait to feel her wrapped around his cock. "Let go, Caroline. Come for me," he tells her, low and demanding. She strains, rolling her hips against his fingers and shatters with a sharp cry, trembling against him.
He's mindful of her back as she comes down, the soothing strokes of his hands avoiding the areas he knows are bruised. She buries a smile in his throat, dragging her fingers down the taut muscles of his abs. They firm even further under her touch, twitching as she toys with his belt. "This needs to come off," Caroline tells him, soft and hoarse, a tone she barely recognizes. "Pants too."
Klaus shows no inclination to argue, leaning back to help her strip his jeans away. It's neither graceful nor smooth, her legs are a little wobbly and they almost spill off the bench, but they manage. Caroline reaches down, circling his cock as she nips at his jaw, running her hand along the length of him teasingly. "I really hoped you locked the door," she tells him, lining him up at her entrance. "Because we're totally going to need another shower after this."
His reply is unintelligible, a garbled groan as she sinks down swiftly, biting down on his shoulder to muffle her own whimper. He presses her closer, encourages her to wrap her thighs around his waist. She moans as he sinks in deeper, guides his mouth back to hers to muffle the sounds she's helpless to stop when he begins to move.
An hour later they make a quick pit stop for another jar of bruise paste when Klaus drives her back to her hotel. Luckily, the bed in her room is very soft.