1872 — Paris, France
There was one thing that was euphoric for a vampire, whether young or old, and that was blood. Blood, a binding ingredient to life and death, had a wonderful taste on the tongue of Eleanor Fraser. It was a metallic taste, a bit salty, but sweet. Oh, it was the sweetest thing in the world to a vampire. It was like eating a block of chocolate, or a piece of a freshly made loaf of bread, or a piece of sweet cake one has been starring at for so long. Blood, for Eleanor Fraser was like the delicious fruit tarts she had eaten on the ship on her way to Paris.
The young vampire pulled away from her latest victim, a young man that had stumbled into her when she was feeding on another woman. The man fell to the ground, dead, and Eleanor let out a soft moan as she wiped the blood from her mouth with her arm. She liked her lips and leaned her head back, enjoying the blood that was still on her tongue.
"Are you still hungry?" a soft voice asked from behind her. She turned her head, seeing Klaus standing against the wall with her arms crossed.
"Yes," she answered, almost panting. "I want more, Klaus. I want more blood."
The Original chuckled and walked up to her. He swiped his thumb across her bottom lip, then sucked on the red liquid, all while staring down at her with a small smirk. "Now, love, you know we can't have all the attention on us."
At his words, Eleanor's face changed. She no longer appeared human, but the vampire in her pushed its way through and hissed at Klaus. Her eyes were red, her fangs protruded from her gums, and the veins under her eyes bulged out. Without realizing what she was doing, she pushed Klaus against the wall by his throat. The Original laughed, throwing his head back in amusement. "Good," he told her, smirking. "Let your anger control you, Eleanor. Tell me, love, what is is that you desire most now?"
"Blood," she hissed, her hand tightening its hold on his throat. It only made the vampire laugh harder. With ease, he pulled her hand away, then pushed her against the other wall. They were in an alley, a small confined alley that stunk of garbage, now blood and dead bodies. It was small, but it was the only dark enough place where Eleanor could feed without having someone appear.
"Blood," Klaus repeated, his fingers slightly tightening around her neck. His fingers lifted one by one, and fell down when the other rose. It was as if he decided to tap his fingers against the skin of her neck, tease her with the cold. "You want blood."
She nodded, licking her lips. At that moment, she felt like a possessed being. She couldn't think of nothing else but blood, want nothing else but blood. It didn't bother her that Klaus was close enough for her to smell him, because the thought and taste of blood was everything she could think of. It was on her mind, in her clothes, in the bodies of those she was anxiously waiting to drain.
"God," Klaus laughed, making her finally focus on him. "I created a perfect, little monster." He leaned close to her, smirking, enjoying the sight of Eleanor Fraser covered in blood. "Perfect," he breathed against her lips.
"No," Eleanor said, trying to look away. No matter how much she tried, her eyes were glued to his, sometimes they glanced down to his lips. "You made me into a demon, Klaus, not a monster."
He chuckled. "A perfect, little demon," he mused, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. "What a wonderful creation I have made."
"Why?" She almost choked, his touch on her confusing every single cell in her body.
"Well, I wanted something to do, to create, to achieve, to whatever," he answered, smirking, tilting his head to the side as his hand played with the long strands of her hair. "Something I can't get enough of. Then you waltz into my home, in tow of your mother's hand, a frightened look in those pretty, little blue eyes. It was then when I realised you were the perfect specimen, Eleanor, the perfect human that could be turned into a vampire. The perfect human whose humanity could be thrown away at the thought of blood, at the thought of power and lust. What other perfect candidate than the girl who was raised in a Catholic orphanage?"
Eleanor was stunned at his words, afraid, but interested. She had changed since she became a vampire, she had noted that very much. It was the moment when Klaus broke her neck that she changed, that she became the monster that she was. At that moment, Eleanor was not the same girl she was at Mother Guillemette's Private Orphanage in Hastings. At that moment, Eleanor Fraser was the opposite of the girl that was scared to even look up from her hands.
She was no longer afraid of her thoughts, the ravaging thoughts of breaking through someone's skin and drinking their blood, the consuming thought of wanting her body pressed against another's. If she ever thought of lust, of sex in any way, she would flush and immediately go to confession, afraid of what her thoughts would do to her, afraid of God. But, in the years that she has been a vampire, in the years she had shared with Klaus Mikaelson, she had realised that God wasn't all that good. The Man didn't intervene when Thure Lindhart touched her, when he inappropriately made her feel like dirt, He wasn't there when she was turned into a vampire, and He certainly wasn't there when Nanette Passebon almost murdered her. Maybe, He knew that she was bound to become a monster, bound to be with Klaus Mikaelson, and that was He never intervened. Maybe, God knew that she was to become the thing she had most feared, and that was why He decided that it'd be best to not intervene.
Eleanor glanced into Klaus's eyes, and swallowed hard. She bit the corner of her bottom lip, wondering whether she should go with what every fibre in her being was telling her to do or whether she should ignore that feeling. The small smirk in the Original's lips made up her mind. Without hesitating, and with a lot of surprise, Eleanor Fraser pulled herself closer to Klaus and kissed him.
She was surprised, no say the least, when the Original kissed her back. It wasn't slow, and it never began as slow. The kiss was rough, as if they had been desiring for each other for along time. Eleanor's hands went to his cheeks, pulling him closer to her as their lips moulded together. She could taste the blood on his lips, on his tongue, feel the coldness of his fingertips as his hands ran down her body, over her dress.
Klaus ripped her dress open without breaking the kiss, then he broke her corset. It didn't bother the young vampire; she thought the dress was old, ugly, not at all as interesting as the kiss she was having. She let him take off the her dress, leaving her in the white under-dress that was covered in red. With a low growl coming from his chest, Klaus turned her against the wall, his chest pressed to her back. His lips were tainted with the blood from Eleanor's face, his eyes a dark red as the veins under his eyes appeared. His hands, much to Eleanor's pleasure, touched her everywhere. They began at her waist, his fingers pressing in tightly, then slowly moving under her dress.
The young vampire let out a soft moan, throwing her head back on his shoulder. Klaus chuckled, his lips pressed to her neck as he teased her. Without warning, he bit into her neck. Eleanor gasped, her eyes opening wide. At first, it stung, like a prick to the finger, but it was then filled with pleasure. As the Original teased her, he drank from her. It was something the young vampire had never thought of, thinking that it was useless for a vampire to drink from another vampire. From what Rebekah had told her years ago, it was a taboo subject. According to Rebekah, the only time a vampire drank from another vampire was only for pleasure.
Eleanor moaned once again, her hand sliding down to meet Klaus' as the other pushed her lightly away from wall. With yet another moan escaping her throat, she turned and stared at Klaus, stared at her blood dripping from his mouth. The man smirked, knowingly, teasingly, then leaned into her for yet another kiss. It was as rough as the first one, in no way filled with anything else other than passion.
Eleanor pulled off his coat, letting it fall to the dirty ground. Without care, she ripped his waistcoat, then his shirt, letting her hands touch his torso. Klaus chuckled against her lips, pulling away. "Look at the mess you're making," he said, pushing her against the wall. "You should be punished."
"Please do," she returned, surprising her and making the Original smirk.
It was sudden, but it was good, and in that moment both vampires were filled with pleasure. Eleanor's hands roamed through Klaus' body as he moved against her in that alley. She dragged her nails down his chest, down his back, creating rows of blood. She would bite into his neck, and drink from him, just like he would do in return. His hands held her by her thigh while the other by her neck, chuckled escaping his throat every now and then as the young vampire drank from him. He turned her, just like he did before, and bit into her neck as he moved against her. Eleanor gasped, grabbed onto the wall, and threw her head to the side with a moan escaping her lips and her body trembling with desire.
She thought it was taboo: they were in an alley, they were covered in blood, there were dead bodies around them, and the man that was touching her in ways the nun's thought shameful was Klaus Mikaelson. But, in a way it didn't bother her, in fact, it made her enjoy it more. It was as if she were laughing at the faces of the horrified nuns, making fun of them as the Original made her shiver with pleasure. It was at that moment that Eleanor noticed she had changed for the worse, but it didn't bother her one bit. And it should have.