Mrs Mikaelson One Shots

Henrik's Witchy Friend

(A/N: Still not back to writing. This was prewritten and I just felt like updating. It's a bit short but I hope you enjoy it. XxD)

******************************************************************

"Oh, gods! Keep doing that!" Henrik Mikaelson groaned in absolute ecstasy as his witchy friend, Maxon, who he'd been flirting with for the last few weeks kissed his way down his neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot at the nape of his neck whilst his hands explored his body.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, his brown eyes glowing with mischief as Henrik writhed beneath him and he flicked his brown curls from his face.

"You know it does," Henrik panted as he grabbed those curls in his fist and brought their lips together, rolling over so he hovered over Maxon.

Now it was Maxon's turn to squirm under Henrik's touch as he kissed his way down his stomach, sucking and nipping with his teeth, at least until both of them sprang apart as the door opened.

"Henrik Kolby Mikaelson, how many times do I have to tell you to stop leaving your empty blood bags everywhere? That's the third carpet you've ruined in two months!" his mother exclaimed as she stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and an unimpressed look on her face.

"Mother! Do you mind? We're a little busy here," he said awkwardly as he and Maxon covered themselves with his sheets, his comforter strewn on the floor along with a couple of pillows and all of their clothes.

"Please. Everybody in this family has walked in on somebody at some stage over the last thousand years. It's not the first time and it won't be the last, so pick up your damn blood bags when you're done with them. Understand?"

Henrik sighed heavily, sending a small glare to Maxon who was trying not to laugh.

"Yes, mom. I'll pick them up."

Isa gave a nod.

"Good. Your father and I are going out for dinner but there's leftover Rousseau's in the kitchen and there's more than enough for your friend if he wants to stay."

"Thanks, mom, I think we're good," Henrik said quickly.

"I'd love to stay for dinner," Maxon said with a smirk as he rested his hands behind his head and Henrik sent another glare his way.

"You're having way too much fun with this."

"Yes, I am," he grinned, absolute unashamed.

"Well, you boys continue your fun. I'll see you later. Love you," Isa said as she began to walk out and close the door behind her.

"Love you too mom," Henrik said quietly, his mother perfectly able to hear him as they heard the sound of her footsteps receding.

"So, your mom seems cool," Maxon said as Henrik flopped back on the bed.

"Yeah, but she also revels in embarrassing her children."

"Well, maybe you were asking for it if you keep leaving your blood bags everywhere like a teenager. What are you like 80 now?" Maxon teased as he propped himself up on his elbow.

"First of all, who's side are you on?"

His lover only laughed.

"Secondly, I'm only 48, technically."

"And technically a grandpa."

Henrik shoved him as he laughed, Maxon falling back before resuming his position and looking down at Henrik.

"And I don't leave blood bags places on purpose. I forget them."

"Oh, really? The big bad tribrid must be mellowing with age then if he forgets where he leaves his blood bags."

Henrik's laugh was cold, taunting, teasing.

"Oh, you are asking for it," he warned as his emerald eyes met Maxon's.

"I'm begging for it. Are you going to give it to me?"

Henrik pounced on the witch, hovering over him as he brought their lips together again.

"I'm going to do so much more than just give it to you."