Their Raven

Chapter 34

Klaus found Damon alone in the wood, crouched by a twisted tree. His chest heaved with broken breaths, his back shuddering like he was holding himself together with fraying threat. The golden light of sunlight spilled through the trees, catching in the dark strands of Damon's hair and the raw wetness in his eyes.

"Damon," Klaus said gently.

"Don't," Damon rasped. "Just leave."

But Klaus stepped forward anyway.

"You're hurting. You don't have to hide it."

Damon laughed bitterly, standing. "I'm always hiding it. That's how I survive."

"You don't have to survive alone anymore."

"Don't say things like that." Damon turned to face him. "You don't get to look at me like I'm something precious. Like I'm worth it. Because I'm not, Klaus."

"You're wrong," Klaus said, stepping closer. "You've always been wrong about yourself."

Damon's voice cracked. "I'm not even Stefan's blood brother."

"You're still his family," Klaus said. "And you're not alone. You never have been—not to me. Not to Kol. Not to Elijah."

Damon's lips parted. "I don't know what this is... what I feel. But it's... it's you. Its's all of you. And I think—"

Klaus reached and stroked his cheek lightly. "Say it."

"I think I love you."

Klaus's expression softened into something devastatingly tender. "Then let me show you what that means."

The kiss that followed was deep, slow, and consuming. Damon leaned into it like he'd been starved of touch for centuries. Klaus's hands gripped his waist, fingers splaying against warm skin as their bodies pressed together, desperate for closeness.

Clothes were shed in a blur of want. When Klaus laid Damon back on the mossy earth, it was with reverence. The cool forest air kissed over Damon's bare chest, but Klaus's lips followed. Warm, wet, and worshipful.

Klaus kissed across Damon's collarbone, down to his sternum, then over his ribs, teeth grazing sensitive skin. Damon moaned softly, hips shifting, craving more. Klaus's fingers trailed over his thighs, parting them gently, making space between them like a lover and a king would with something scared.

"You're beautiful like this," Klaus murmured. "Laid bare. All fire and skin."

Damon gasped as Klaus licked a hot path back up his torso, pausing to suck gently on his left nipple until it was red and sensitive. Damon writhed under him, hands gripping Klaus's back, nails dragging.

"You're killing me," Damon panted.

"No," Klaus whispered, his voice heavy with promise. "I'm worshipping you."

His fingers moved lower, between Damon's thighs, slick and skilled. Damon's breath hitched, his back arching as Klaus prepared his slowly, curling his fingers just right until Damon was trembling and begging under him.

When Klaus finally entered him, it was slow and deep. Every inch stretching, filling, claiming. Damon groaned, body arching with the sensation, head falling back with abandon.

"Fuck, Klaus—"

"Look at me," Klaus growled, leaning down. "I want to see your eyes when I make you mine."

Their lips met again—hot and open, tongues dancing in sync with the rhythm of their bodies. Klaus moved inside him with a steady sensual roll of his hips, hitting deep, perfect spots that made Damon keen beneath him.

Then Klaus's control snapped.

His bit.

Fangs sank into Damon's throat with carnal precision, and Damon cried out not from pain, but from a wave of raw ecstasy that ripped through him like lightning.

His magic flared.

It exploded.

A brilliant surge of red and gold light burst around them, wrapping their bodies in a pulsing aura. Klaus didn't stop—if anything. He thrusted deeper, fangs still in Damon's neck, drinking his magic-rich blood and groaning into the connection.

Damon clutched him tighter, body pulsing with power. His eyes glowed brightly—Le Rouge gold—as their essences tangled in a way that felt eternal.

Something ancient stirred.

When Klaus pulled back, lips stained in crimson, he stared down at Damon's neck in awe.

"You... did something," Klaus whispered breathless.

Damon blinked up at him. "What?"

Klaus sat up slightly, chest rising and falling and Damon follows his gaze.

There, just above Klaus's heart, a small phoenix made of fire-red and gold lines had bloomed, not tattooed, not burned, but etched by magic itself. It pulsed faintly like a living thing.

"I think you marked me," Klaus said In wonder.

Damon blinked at it, lips parting. "I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't have to," Klaus leaned down again, cupping Damon's face. "You're mine now. And im yours."

They kissed again slow and soft this time, post-storm, like the calm after wind rain. Klaus stayed buried inside him, motionless now, their bodies still joined, still wrapped in their warm halo of red-gold magic.

"You matter," Klaus whispered against Damon's lips. "You always mattered. And you're not broken."

Damon's eyes filled with tears, but this time he didn't run. He just pulled Klaus closer, letting himself be held, letting himself be loved.

For the first time in centuries, Damon Salvatore felt seen and he burned like the fire he was born from.

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So are you fed? I hope you are my little darlings 😏. So we finally have smut! This is my first time actually writing smut so I hope it was up to your standards