FLASHBACK END.
The past faded behind him as Michael pressed forward, the weight of centuries stirring uneasily in his chest.
'Enough of old memories.'
He was here for a reason, a rarity named Katarina Petrova.
The name carried history, blood, magic, repetition. A doppelgänger of Tatia, coveted by Klaus Mikaelson as the final key to shattering the curse bound to his hybrid existence. Michael had followed the whispers across borders and time, only to arrive too late.
Katarina was already a vampire.
Her parents lay butchered and slaughtered in retaliation to her defiance, punishment delivered with the usual Mikaelson cruelty.
Michael exhaled slowly, gaze hardening.
"How barbaric of you, Niklaus."
Katarina had fled spirited away by Trevor, with Rose dragged into the chaos. Michael knew how that story ended. Trevor dead. Rose doomed to a werewolf bite. And Katarina running for centuries with fear as her shadow.
Michael could have chased her and gotten a hold of her easily. Instead, he chose the next best thing.
He went after her daughter.
Nadia.
She would have been killed quietly, erased as loose end and leverage. Michael found her before that fate could close its jaws and made a decision he never thought himself capable of. Not in his past life. Not in this one.
He took her in and raised her as his own.
For two decades, they traveled together across borders, cultures, wars. Michael taught her survival, languages, history, restraint. She grew strong. Too strong, perhaps.
When he finally told her the truth about her mother, he knew instantly it might have been a mistake.
Nadia became consumed. Finding Katherine became her purpose and obsession.
At twenty-six, she chose her path. She returned to Europe to hunt the ghost that had abandoned her and when she came back to Michael, she was no longer human.
She had turned into a vampire.
Michael let her go without protest.
For the next century, he vanished into stone and shadow. The castles scattered across Europe became sanctuaries of knowledge. At the same time, his influence spread quietly.
Werewolves. Witches.
He tracked the fractured remnants of the original coven he once protected, following bloodlines through generations. Some refused as they were bound to other covens, other loyalties and he did not disturb them for he made a promise he intends to keep but fortunately enough most accepted.
By the time the world shifted toward gunpowder and empires, Michael had eyes and ears across continents. Claws waiting and voices ready to answer his call.
Then, in 1659, fate intervened again in the form of Alexia Branson.
A twenty-one years old sharp-tongued and beautiful woman.
Michael remembered the night clearly, the sound of fabric tearing as he walked back to his home and when he decided to investigate he saw a male vampire laughing as he cornered her in the dark. Michael intervened without hesitation.
He didn't burn the vampire.
He tore it apart instead bone snapping, flesh ripping then left it alive, broken and screaming in pain, at Alexia's feet.
"Finish it," he told her.
And she did so without hesitation after that night Michael learned who she truly was. Lexi, Stefan's best friend and on of the most likable vampires in the series. They burned bright after that. Dangerous. Intense. A romance born of blood, laughter and nights stolen from eternity.
Michael allowed himself the indulgence.
Just for a while because even embers, he knew, never truly last.
One night, Lexi stood before his door longer than she meant to. The corridor was quiet, candlelight trembling against stone as doubt crept in and unwelcome. She raised her hand once, then let it fall. For someone who faced the world head-on, this felt strangely harder.
From inside, a calm voice broke the silence.
"Are you going to come in," Michael said, mildly amused, "or simply wage war with my door?"
Before she could answer, it opened.
He stood there shirtless, firelight tracing every line of him. His eyes lifted to hers and whatever response she had prepared vanished.
Lexi didn't joke or even tease. She stepped closer, searching his gaze like it held the answer to something she'd been carrying since the night he saved her.
"Please," she said softly, almost reverently, "don't deny me."
For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then she rose on her toes and kissed him.
Her hands found his skin, grounding herself in the reality of him, and Michael inhaled sharply, the air around them warming as his restraint cracked.
When he returned the kiss, it was with intent. He placed one hand at her waist, the other lifting her closer, as if the world beyond that doorway had ceased to matter.
The door closed behind them without a sound.
WARNING +18(skip if you don't like)
The kiss is deep and wet and slow. They have all the time in the world to explore this, to explore each other. She scoots closer, her hands coming to rest on his chest her hand is sliding against his bare skin.
She leans in, her hair brushes against his stomach and he feels it quiver, her tongue licks across his nipple and he nearly flinched but managed to keep it to a muffled groan, at least until her teeth sink into his skin.
"Fuck." When she pulls back her mouth was wet with a smirk. He rolls to his side and brings her close, his mouth sliding against hers. He kisses her deeply.
"I've never been with anyone, I've never even touched myself, the closest was well you know." It doesn't matter to him whether she has or hasn't, he just wanted to be with her, however she'll have him. "We'll do whatever you want, and nothing you don't."
She lowers her eyes as she took his hand and slides it under her skirts, keeps moving it until he is cupping her warm pussy. "I want you to touch me here." Her eyelashes flutter and her breath catches as she says, "i want to feel the pleasure I've always denied myself."
Michael lets the tip of his middle finger slip between her outer lips while keeping and eye contact with her. She is so very wet and so hot to the touch. "You are so wet and excited down there love." Very carefully he reaches further inside her, stroking over her inner walls. She trembles around him before she squeezes him. He rocks his hand into her gently with a devious smile, his palm rubbing over her clit. He presses his lips against her ear, "Will you let me taste you here?"
Her eyes goes wide and her face flushes further. She bites her bottom lip but nods her head. He draws his hand away and moves to lie between her legs. He begins to push her skirts up before she says, "Wait."
Michael immediately draws back and away sitting on his heels. She stands and holds her hand out to him, "Will you help me?" She turns her back to him presenting herself for him to undress.
'Man how much the culture had degraded, the genuin process in the era is vastly different from that of the 2000s' When he finished. She turns around and Michaels hands found their way to her breasts. Her nipples we're already hard, they pressed hotly into the palms of his hands....
(Heheheheheheh… Full 18+ chapter accessible on my Patreon)
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