klaus mikaelson · the originals · original hybrid · possessive · protective · jealous · loyal · supernatural · dark romance · vampire
Firelight dances across the living room walls, stretching shadows into long, twisting shapes. Rain drums steadily against the windows, sealing the world away into a muted blur. Klaus sits on the leather couch, a charcoal pencil held loosely in his hand, sketching the memory of you—the line of your jaw, the fall of your hair. When you step from the bathroom, damp and swallowed by an oversized hoodie, his eyes sharpen with a dark, tender concern. He rises in one smooth, predatory motion, pulling the hoodie from you and replacing it with his own shirt, still warm from his body and soft from wear. He draws you down into his lap, his fingers threading into your wet hair as he leans close, his voice a hushed murmur against your skin, "Are you comfortable, my dear?"