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“I take it the party is not elaborate enough to keep your attention,” you look up from the bubbles in your practically untouched champagne glass to meet the mischievous eyes of who could arguably be the most temperamental Mikaelson, only second to Rebekah on a bad hair day.
“Says my favorite hybrid, who has done little more than hover around the horderves table all night,” you smirk back at Klaus who raises his brow and nods in acceptance of your small truth.
“Well, it would seem that we both crave a more,” Klaus’ gaze doesn’t leave the dancers in the crowd, despite how he leans towards you to lower his voice temptingly, “exciting bit of entertainment, wouldn’t you agree?”
Your eyes, however, meet those that had been staring at you since the moment Klaus came to stand at your side, keeping a close watch at the way the man beside you had sought you out despite having the choice of any other woman in attendance. Deep brown holds your gaze, parting the sea of bodies in his stride towards you; a fire it seemed no one aside from you had realized was burning in the midst of the witches, humans, werewolves, and vampires alike that were at the party.
“Actually, Klaus,” you feel your spirits lift up into the first genuine smile you’d felt all night as you notice the jealous intent in Elijah’s eyes darken as Klaus’ hand finds the small of your back, “I do agree with you.”
The low rumble of Klaus’ voice comes to your ear, along with the brush of his lips, “Then what are we waiting for, love?”
“Nothing,” but it’s not your voice who answers Niklaus’ offering question, because Elijah has reached the two of you by now, his hand being the one to reach out to brush his brother’s off your back, only to claim it’s spot. Elijah gives Klaus a tight smile as he guides you into his side, “If you’ll excuse us, brother.”
“Of course,” Klaus’ smirk doesn’t waver in the slightest as his eyes flick from you to Elijah, watching you be pulled from the company surrounding you in amusement, “brother.”
The grip Elijah’s hand has on you curves warmly into your side as you let him lead you away from the chatter of the party and his brother, but it’s a firm grip that you know is a result of the way you’d formerly been receiving Klaus’ attentions as the night went on. You let Elijah take your champagne glass from you, quickly placing it on a passing waiter’s tray without missing a step in what had just become a hastier pace that promised something on the other end of the closed door he lead you towards. In the mild chaos that was the party carrying on around you, few people noticed you, but none dared to interrupt an Original who looked to be on a mission.
Only you were that foolish.
“Elijah,” you begin, only to be silenced when he wrenches open the door and pulls you inside with vampiric speed, taking your breath away as he pushes you up against it just as quickly, but you were now on the side of it that was not open to the party and prying eyes, hearing it slam shut with the force of his body flattening against yours.
“Do you wish to torture me? With your entertainment of Niklaus’ pursuits?” Elijah growls as you fist the shoulders of his suit’s jacket, your breath fanning over his jaw as you glance downwards, watching his lips linger closely to your own.
“I thought I was just being polite,” you reply, unable to tear your gaze from those lips, trying not to focus on the fact that it would just take a little push off of the door or a small pull at his shoulders to collide yours to his.
“I assure you,” Elijah’s hand at your waist smooths down your dress until it reaches your thigh, where he grabs the fabric and lifts, causing you to let out a small gasp that breaks the trance his lips had once held, forcing your eyes to look between the two of you, “Klaus sees it as more than mere politeness.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care what he interprets my politeness as,” you feel your dress sliding up your knees with each second that passes, your eyes finally meeting Elijah’s once again, “because all I’ve cared about all evening is when you were finally going to walk over and take what’s yours.”
“Oh, trust me,” Elijah’s eyes spark at that, smile parting his lips as his fingers finally find the hot flesh of your thigh, dress pushed up to the base of your hip, “I intend to.” You don’t even realize the hand he has on the back of your neck until it’s there, pulling you into the softness of his lips while his thumb draws a line that moves towards your inner thigh. You shift your hand to his hair as he hitches you up higher on the door, the music from the party vibrating it behind you as your legs part just enough to allow his knee between them.
But it’s the nip at your lip that has your attention right now; just hard enough to get you to part them, letting Elijah soothe any brief pain with the warmth of his tongue over the same spot. You tug on his hair in retaliation, watching through your lidded eyes as his brow furrows, practically feeling the rumble in his chest that urges you on.
Neither of you really care if anyone can hear you. But at the same time, you doubt that, over the sound of the thumping music from the party, anyone would pick up on the little huffs of breath and small moans that were coming from this room that was rapidly becoming too hot with the tropical weather of a typical New Orleans summer and the heat radiating between you. Which is exactly why you felt completely justified when your hand smoothed it’s way from Elijah’s hair to push at the collar of the jacket that was really just getting in the way at this point. He assists, reluctantly removing his hands from your body for only as long as it took to get the thing off his shoulders and down the length of his arms, letting it fall to the floor in an unimportant heap.
His fingers quickly find their spot on your thigh again, mouth moving against your own as if it came as easy as breathing. You find your fingers slipping from one of the buttons of his shirt as he swiftly sneaks higher, palming you through the slim fabric of your panties. You let out a muffled moan when Elijah pushes his forefinger onto your clit, giving it an aimed stroke as you pull the tie from his neck.
His mouth parts from yours, making to kiss the side of your mouth, before sliding down your jaw in it’s path to your ear, where he nips through his teeth, “Know you’re mine. Always and forever.”
“I’m yours, Elijah,” you repeat back to him, your own lips close enough to his ear that even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, you would still be certain he could hear your breathy whisper. “And you’re mine.”
You feel him halt as his mouth comes closer to your neck, knowing you’re unintentionally tempting him with the way your blood pulses just beneath the skin there, but you’re unafraid, even when his teeth graze lingeringly in time with another stroke of your clit, before his fingers take up a lazy, circling pattern that makes you want to melt into the palm of his hand. Your hips push off from the door, begging for more than the obscured contact beneath the shield of your underwear and the tongue that tastes the skin at the base of your neck.
“Elijah, if you want a better taste, I’d be willing to strike a deal,” you tease, using the powers of negotiation that he’d taught you. He hums into your skin, as if urging you to continue, and you feel the smirk that spreads on his face at your offer, “Rip these damn panties off and you can have a bite.”
Elijah pulls back, and you watch as the veins around his eyes fade despite the way he’s panting, holding it together just enough to grit out, “I’ll buy you a new pair, but I’m not going to bite you until I’m buried inside you, with you moaning my name so loud every vampire, werewolf, witch, and human in the next room knows exactly who it is that’s ravishing you.” He looks positively dangerous as the last of the darkness around his eyes fades, along with the fangs that had been visible beneath his upper lip, “I give you my word.”
And you almost moan at the sight of him, disheveled in a way you were happy to say only you had the luxury of seeing at the moment, feeling an unmistakable bulge pressing against your thigh as a show of how achingly bad he wanted you. But you don’t have long to admire him, with the way his lips curl as you whine with the loss of his fingers circling your clit, only to grip the inches of your panties that met between the base of your left thigh and your center. There’s a brief pause before you hear a ripping sound, knowing that he’d just shredded the flimsy piece of clothing without having to even look down.
“Elijah—!” you can’t help but moan as you feel his flesh against your own this time when he moves his hand back to where, in your opinion, it belonged. His other moves to your leg to wrap it around his hip, grinding against you for some relief as his fingers slip past your lips to press teasingly at your entrance, his thumb hooked just as annoyingly tantalizing at your clit once more. You make quick work of his shirt now, sexual frustration fueling you as you practically glare at him, only for his tongue to dart out, wetting his lips as he presses his middle finger gently into you. You are certain he is actually trying to kill you with the slowness of it all, before he pulls it out only to add a second, the pad of his thumb moving in rhythm with the fingers inside you.
Your hand finds his belt, having abandoned the shirt that is still wrapped around his shoulders, because you’ll be damned if you made him pull his hands from you all in the effort to remove a piece of clothing you’d sooner cut off of him if it just meant he’d never stop touching you. As he pushes his fingers into you at a particularly pleasing angle, you can’t help the high moan that parts your lips, making your head lull back to knock gently against the antique wood of the door behind you, a reminder that there was still a party you didn’t really care about going on in the background of your rendezvous. Pulling at the belt, your hips move down against his hand as you pant there for a moment, trying to pull yourself together as you feel the flush that had once been just on your cheeks spreading across your chest. Within moments, you have the Original unbuttoned and unzipped, but he nearly has you coming undone with another flick of his experienced thumb against you.
Your head falls forward, eyes locking with Elijah’s as he rocks his hips up into yours, moving against the hand between you while his own mouth parts as he enjoys watching the fruits of his efforts contort your brow into an almost desperate look, “That’s it, (Y/N). Just like that, beautiful.”
“More, Elijah,” you hear your breath hitch as his fingers find a spot within you, your wetness against his hand as erogenous to him as it was to you. He gives your other thigh a little squeeze before giving you an absolutely lascivious look as he sets it down, pulling his fingers out of you just so he can quickly remove the shirt that still hangs around him, clinging to the remaining tucks in the back of his pants before finally falling to the floor.
He doesn’t make a move to touch the dress pants hanging loosely around his hips, seeing as you’ve already put your hand far enough down their front to give him a taste of his own medicine. You nearly freeze as you grip his length, watching him raise the hand that had been nestled between your thighs, fingers still shimmering in the dim lighting with your wetness. He brings them to his lips, eyes meeting your lusty gaze as he slides his tongue between them, quickly cleaning a hand that was soon to be dirtied all over again before you were through the night.
It’s his turn to watch as you free him, swallowing thickly in an effort to keep some kind of control over himself with you stroking the hardness in your hand, “I want you right now, (Y/N).”
“And here I thought you were the patient brother,” you taunt as he takes a shaky breath through his nose that lasts as long as your next stroke, but neither of you feel like continuing the foreplay. At least, not at the moment.
“Even my patience has it’s limits,” Elijah reaches to finally pull your dress over the rest of your body, gently taking care as he lifts it over your head. Once your arms are free, your hands are back on him. His chest, his abdomen, his cock. Anywhere and everywhere you can reach in the few moments that he presses his lips back to yours, his fingers cradling your jaw as he presses your back onto the door once more, trailing down your neck to stroke against your breasts on his quest ever downwards, before finally finding your thighs to hoist you easily against him.
You part from his lips just enough to let out your slight hum at the feeling of him brushing against your entrance, “I need you, Elijah.”
“It would be rude to decline a lady her needs,” his chuckle fans against your lips, making you smile in turn as he pushes into you. You grip at the back of his neck and shoulders, desperately needing to hold onto something as the feeling of him filling you dominates your senses for the seconds in which you gasp out a moan. He calls your name against your lips, brow brimming with sweat as he uses his chest against your own to pin you to the door, keeping your body in place while his hips move back just enough to allow him the leverage he needs to return to you with another slow thrust. You could feel his heart hammering beneath your own as he tested the waters, kisses finding their way across your jaw and neck as he pants out another moan with the next, quicker thrust.
You curve your legs around him, toes curling at the sensation of one of his hands locked in the crook of your knee, the other cupping your behind as you can do little more than push off the door with each thrust he controls and tug at his hair, calling his name in less than a whisper, afraid if you were to get louder, you’d scream. But when he goes a bit faster your efforts to stay quiet nearly fly out the window, voice trembling with each time your skin flattened against his, deep thrusts dictating your breathing in time with his stomach rubbing against your own and your clit grinding against the base of his length.
“Mine,” you hear his voice rasp against your neck, beneath the teeth that clamp gently down there, not enough to break the skin but enough to warn you that he was close. You hold him tighter at that, his name falling from your hoarse throat in what was quickly coming to sound like a prayer.
“Elijah, Elijah, please,” you beg, him never letting up as the hand on your ass moves to slam beside your head, palm flattened against the door as he moves you against it as if it were a part of you. And you hear him groan as you continue your wanton whine, “Bite me. Oh, God, just do it! Take what you want, Elijah!”
His forgotten belt buckle clinks against the button on the pants that still hung around him, threatening to slip down, as he bites down in time with his next thrust. You wince in pain and pleasure as you feel him suck there, blood and sweat slipping down your chest as you shiver beneath him. You’re glad when the music gets louder just as you call his name so desperately, your fingers clenching onto his back as you feel yourself falling apart against that door. Your erratic hips ride against his, fist tightening into Elijah’s short, brown hair as he moans into your bleeding neck, fangs finding their way back from the bloodlust to give way to just plain lust. The remnants of your blood colors Elijah’s lips as he pulls back just enough to watch you become a shuddering mess against him as he takes his final thrusts, head dipping to allow his tongue to follow the trail your blood had left down your chest.
You feel your legs go weak around his hips, Elijah managing to hold the one while the other falls back to shakily meet the ground, “I don’t want to go back to the party, Elijah.”
“Good,” Elijah breathes heavily as he tries to calm himself from the remnants of your lovemaking, “I was planning on taking you to my room, anyway.”