The Perfect Mikaelson's

71|| Klaus🩸

Klaus

I walk back into my bedroom and come to a complete halt when I see Avery laying there, on my bed, in nothing but a pair of lace underwear. I've had this image burned into my brain for centuries now, but each time it takes my breath away.

Avery has always had a natural glow to her. Her features are soft and angelic. Her skin feels like warm silk beneath my fingertips and her hair wavy strands of gold, always perfectly kept. I used to enjoy tangling my fingers in her hair, messing it up. She was still just as gorgeous, but I liked that look better.

Now she's laid out on my bed before me, and I can't even bring myself to take advantage of the moment. Too many things are plaguing my mind right now. If I was to ever be with her again, I don't want anything but her on my mind. It's the least she deserves.

"Are you okay?" Her soft voice breaks me out of my stupor and a look of concern lines her face. She always did worry too much. She especially worried herself about Abbie. So I know her own mind must be swirling with questions, but here she is, taking care of everyone else's problems, while avoiding her own.

"I'm fine, Love. Just enjoying the view." The worry leaves her eyes, but she quickly rolls them. "Don't push your luck, Klaus." She turns away from me, her body relaxing into the bed, ready for me to paint.

I stride over to the bed, dropping my supplies onto it, before shedding my pants. Even though it would probably be smarter to keep them on, in this position, it's never been comfortable for either of us.

Joining her on the bed, I straddle her hips, resting my weight on her thighs. We've been like this before. More times than I can even count, but the feel of her skin on mine, after so long, feels so familiar but foreign all at the same time.

"Quit thinking. Just paint." She whispers, breaking me out of my head again. How can I keep getting lost in my own head, when I have her here before me.

I pick up my brush, knowing if I don't do something soon, she'll try to leave. I'm not sure what I'm going to paint, but she was right. The knowledge and feel of her being here is clearing my head.

She relaxes her shoulders, giving me more room to work with, and that's when I realize what I forgot. I lay my brush along her spine, leaning down towards her ear.

"I need your hair tie, Love." She shivers, as she pulls the elastic from her wrist, holding it up for me to take. I can remember countless times of this exact moment, only they weren't all of me preparing to paint her.

Well, not with paint, at least.

I gathered her hair, tugging on it a little more than required, just wanting to see how far I could push my luck. As I suspected, not that far.

"Yank my hair again, and I'll ruin all your paints."

"You wouldn't dare." I prepared the paints, dipping my brush into the black and making the first mark on her skin.

I don't think I've ever planned on what to paint with her, I just let her ramble on about her day and problems, letting her words guide my brush.

Even in her silence, her thoughts and breathing still hold me captive. I don't need to get inside her head to know what she's thinking. Avery's been a creature of habit for centuries now. If she's not out killing with Kol and Rebekah, she's making a fuss over Abbie, or she's driving Elijah and I mad with her attitude.

I'm not happy to admit that I was jealous over Abbie, how often and easily she possessed her attention. Granted, I don't think she asked or wanted it half the time, but it didn't stop me from hating every second they spent together.