She should cry, she should apologize, she should do something to accompany this little offering. But there’s only the hum of magic and the gleam of white petals under the moon. She’s not even sure why she’s doing this, except that it feels wrong not to. It feels like someone has to.
A voice clicks softly behind her. “Out after curfew again?”
He had never bitten Bonnie, had never gotten the chance, but ooh he remembers the smell of her. It’s actually one of his most visceral memories of the 1994 prison world before his escape. Those few days in his presence she had been surrounded by the coppery aroma of her own blood. He had even patched her up, hadn’t he? Now he wishes he had taken a swipe at her abdomen, letting her blood smear his lips and slide down his throat…show her what a lover ought to be.
Bonnie is joining a new crew for a one year mission to the delta quadrant. Unfortunately, her academy rival has joined the same crew. What daring new adventures will they find? Klonnie in space.
Klaus takes his time stroking the length of her calves, running his nose up along the smooth skin. One mustn’t rush desecration.
She’s come dressed for a funeral, the little prude. Dark sweater, dark dress that hangs below her knees. As though she’s refusing this night everything, even color. As though she can stuff what’s about to happen between them into a casket and bury it unmarked. A requiem for her old life as it were.
“I thought you would like some portion of this night to be memorable,” he says, his voice gone suddenly, disarmingly soft. “Although, I suppose losing one’s virginity to a sworn enemy isn’t something you’re likely to forget.”
Anger bubbles inside her and she flushes from head to toe as she realizes the futility of denial. Her reaction has already given her away. “That is none of your business-,”
He towers above her, his gaze so heavy she finds it almost unbearable.
“Tell me, is there anything you won’t sacrifice for them?”
POC of TVD 