Lucius finally found the Hybrid and his witch. He decided to watch them from afar as he wasn't ready for a direct confrontation just yet. It irritated him to watch her smile as if she had no care in the world. She was smiling and laughing with that abomination. She held his hand and gave him a warm smile, far warmer than she ever gave the werewolf. He noticed her arousal in the way she was giving small pants and sighs. He noticed the way her cheeks turned darker as she blushed, and he noticed the way her chest heaved up and down at a fast pace. It made him feel a pang in his heart as jealousy was taking over. It should have been him. She should have felt this way for him, not for Klaus Mikaelson! Who did he think he was? Just because he was an Original and the first Hybrid didn't give him the right to look down on others. Lucius had been a general; he had marked his times. What had Klaus done if not ruin the world for the rest of them? Klaus was nothing but blood, sweat, and tears. He was nothing but a fraud, and the sight of him was killing him. Lucius' blue eyes wandered from her face to her cleavage, and he noticed how elegant yet tantalizing she looked.
His eyes couldn't tear off of her curves or the soft skin of her neck. He wanted to bite it. He wanted to mark her and make sure that Klaus knew she was Lucius's and no one else's. It was irritating him to watch as she was practically begging Klaus to fuck her that night. Her eyes were almost glowing. She kept biting her bottom lip and touching her neck as if she wanted to invite him to bite her and taste her blood. Her natural scent was being overtaken by the scent of her arousal, and it was taking his whole attention not to give into his own arousal. The werewolf was on edge. His breathing was labored. He was holding onto his beer, and his right leg was bouncing against the table. He wanted to turn and pounce on her. He would have if Klaus was not here. He would have pushed her against a wall and would have tried to have his way with her. Why didn't he do it when she was still in his care? Perhaps he cared too much about her comfort to indulge his own desires, or perhaps he hoped she would give in to him without him making efforts to get it. Either way, he didn't do anything, and now she had left him and belonged to another. Insulting!
He couldn't bear the sight before him. He couldn't bear watching Klaus touching /his/ witch. He couldn't bear the sight of her nearly in heat without being the one to quench her thirst. He couldn't! He wanted to be the one to push everything on that table off of it so he could bend her over the table and slide his cock inside her tight little cunt. He wanted to growl in her ear, obscenities that would come to him naturally. How many times did he accidentally hear her jerk off in her room? How many times did he hear her wet fingers slip in and out of her wet cunt at night? He wanted to be the one touching her. He needed to be the one to make her moan and squirm. He knew she tasted good, but he wanted to taste it himself. He was plagued with daydreams and fantasies of the witch bouncing on his thick cock, scratched by his claws, bruised because he wouldn't go easy on her, her mind completely wrecked because of the pleasure he would give her. He wanted to see her in her full glory. He needed to, but the reality of things painted a different picture. He lost her because he wanted to use her as a weapon and made it clear to her rather than being subtle about it. He lost her because he didn't treat her correctly.
He lost her, but he needed to make things right.
He needed to take her back, and it would start by getting rid of Klaus Mikaelson.
Now, the only thing missing was a plan to make it happen.
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