A collection of 🌶 spicy 🌶 one shots featuring our favorite gentleman monster, Elijah Mikaelson.
I do not own the rights to The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, or their characters. I do however, own my own stories and my original characters. Please...
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"This is magnificent, sweetheart," Klaus grinned, taking stock of the massive canvas you had just revealed in the studio of the Mikaelson mansion.
The radiant rose shades blended seamlessly with the sage to create the most exquisite abstract flowers he had ever seen.
"It's true, darling. I know nothing about art, and even I find it absolutely titillating," Kol smirked, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.
"Y/N, you have truly outdone yourself. This is breathtaking," Rebekah smiled.
"You're sure? I don't want you to add me to the show just because I'm Rebekah's dearest friend, Klaus," you insisted, and he shook his head.
"Nonsense! It is exactly what I was looking for to complete the exhibit," he said. His blue eyes were clear and happy, and you squealed a little as he lifted you up in an excited bear hug.
When he finally set you back down on your feet, Kol handed you a glass of pink champagne.
"This calls for a celebration!"
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A few hours later, after allowing Klaus, Rebekah and Kol to ply you with glass after glass of rosé in the dining room, you wandered back into Klaus's studio.
Well, you thought you did anyway.
Instead, you must have taken a wrong turn, and ended up in a dark, empty bedroom.
"Hello?" You called out but no one answered, and you suddenly felt very sleepy.
And warm.
And spinny.
So spinny.
Slipping out of your heels and shedding your dress, you flopped onto the bed in your lacy undergarments without a second thought. It smelled familiar, but you couldn't wrap your drunken brain around it, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep.
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Elijah unlocked the door as quietly as he could, knowing his brothers and sister were likely fast asleep.
His keys slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor, as Elijah stifled a giggle.
"Whoops."
He'd had another fruitless dinner meeting with the Salvatores about the business merger, where they did nothing but bicker and drink bourbon. He'd gotten so drunk that he had to compel an intern to drive him home.
Now he was cranky and tired on top of being belligerent, able to think of nothing but finally getting some rest.
He toed off his loafers and flexed his tired toes, before quietly padding up the mahogany staircase.
