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Don't Wanna Lie And Don't Wanna Tell You The Truth

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Diego finds Klaus in the fourth bar he looks in.

He might have missed him, hidden as he was behind easily the biggest guy in the bar, the two of them sitting on stools at the far end of the bar and apparently becoming very well acquainted with each other.

Klaus only becomes visible when he throws his back and lets out an exaggerated laugh at something the guy says, his arm coming up to catch his balance on the guy’s bicep.

Diego watches as Klaus keeps his hand there, moving slightly closer to him on his stool. It’s not hard to see that Klaus is cruising for something, more than likely drugs with his track history but maybe he’s just lonely  You never know with Klaus.

There isn’t a big crowd in the bar this early in the afternoon but Diego still has to weave around a few people to get to the bar.

He slings an arm around Klaus’ waist and pulls him in tight, allowing a small smirk to cross his face, subtle enough that he knows only Klaus would be able to see it.

“Klaus, baby, there you are! I was starting to wonder where you’d gotten to. Please come home, the children miss you terribly.”

Klaus’ head whips around and he gapes for a second, clearly not expecting Diego to have bothered to look for him, let alone to have found him.

He turns back to the guy he’s been buttering up, who is in the process of extricating himself from the space between the bar and the fixed stool which was not positioned with men of his stature in mind.

“I don’t have any idea who he is, they’re not my kids! Wait,” he turns back to Diego, “what kids?” Before Diego can even open his mouth Klaus has forgotten him again, and is focussed back on his missed meal ticket.

“It doesn’t matter about the kids, come on John I thought you were up for some fun!” He calls at the guy’s back as he walks away.

Diego smirks at the name, trust Klaus to find himself a John.

“Was his name actually John?” He asks breezily as he slips neatly onto the now vacated stool, smiling smugly at Klaus.

“What the hell, Diego?” He demands.

“You do actually need to come home, there’s another family meeting and they sent me back out to find you.”

Klaus makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a groan that sounds like he’s choking on something, and Diego watches him flop a little with frustration. It doesn’t sound like Klaus thinks a family meeting is worth the interruption to his cruising.

He shoots a look at Diego like he’s waiting for a punchline or for him to tell him that he doesn’t have to go. Diego’s face remains still and Klaus rolls his eyes, slamming the rest of his drink and motioning to the bartender for another of the same.

“You fucking asshole, Diego,” Klaus sighs, “I was just getting somewhere with him.” He accepts his new drink and curls his fingers around it like it’s a mug of Grace’s tea after a hard day.

“Family business” Diego shrugs languidly, looking as if he doesn’t have a care in the world even though he has many and varied, “I was just following the orders of our illustrious leader.”

Klaus snorts into his drink at that, and Diego lets his lips quirk into a sharp smile.

“Plus, I figure if I’m not getting any action lately then I don’t see why you should either.”

“I have needs, Diego!” Klaus bursts out, hands flying around apparently without any active command from his brain, “needs that need to be satisfied!”

He’s loud enough that the other patrons of the bar turn towards them with poorly disguised interest. To them they’re just another couple having an argument, Klaus with his needs unmet and Diego unable to satisfy him, Klaus having turned to strangers to feel wanted again and Diego following him to beg him to come back, to come home.

Diego ignores them and gives Klaus a look telling him he knows exactly what his needs are, narcotic or otherwise.

The bartender chooses that moment to come over with the bill and Klaus smiles, saccharine sweet and obviously fake, at Diego.

“Pick up my tab will you, baby.

Diego rolls his eyes but takes out a few bills and hands them over, watching as Klaus goes back to his lurid monstrosity of a drink. He assumes it’s some kind of cocktail but it could be anything, really.

“It’s polite to say thank you when someone buys you a drink, you know.”

“Usually I thank people for buying me a drink by going home with them later for the night, dear brother,” Klaus whips back, pausing for impact, but Diego doesn’t give him the satisfaction of actually being surprised, “so, unless that’s what you’re angling for…” he quirks an eyebrow and goes back to his drink again.

He feels his own expression slide from a polite smile to a sharp one. Klaus commits to his attempt to freak Diego out even without an initial success. He continues talking and Diego watches him passively.

“It’s only polite to replace something that you ruin to make up for being an asshole. You spill someone’s coffee, you buy them a new one, you eat the last of someone’s cereal, you replace it.”

“Hey, I bought you a drink didn’t I?” Diego points to Klaus’ almost finished drink, smiling with false innocence. Klaus rolls his eyes at Diego’s act.

“I can buy my drink Diego, but I can’t suck my own dick now can I?” Klaus leans forward into Diego’s space, but he isn’t affected by it.

“Not with that attitude.”

Klaus lets out an inarticulate noise of frustration, apparently in no mood for any kind of games and finishes his drink in one mouthful before he gets up from the stool to leave. There’s something different about Klaus lately, and Diego hates to see it.

He lets Klaus walk out ahead of him before he catches up to him and stops him with a hand hard around his bicep, squeezes it harder when Klaus tries to pull free.

The car is parked in the alley down the side of the bar and he pulls Klaus along with him, ignoring his protests.

Klaus only tries to pull away once more before they get to the car, a feeble attempt even by his own standards, and he gives in once Diego tightens his grip.

“I don’t want to go back to the Academy,” he whines as Diego opens the passenger side door and pushes him in, like a perp he’s just cuffed, “I want to go to another bar. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not exactly a contributing member of society these days.”

Diego slams the door once Klaus is inside, cutting him off before he really starts to get a steam up where no one on the face of the earth can stop him from bitching.

He rolls his eyes while he walks to his side of the car but with a small smile he doesn’t bother to hide. Klaus is fucking annoying, he’s a nuisance and frustrating and generally just infuriating in every single way but Diego is still unreasonably fond of him. Especially since he got taken by Ass-Hat and Whoever The Fuck that killed Eudora, and after whatever happened between then and him coming home. Since whatever changed him so much.

Diego climbs in and turns the engine over, pulling out of the alley and into traffic.

He looks over at Klaus who is ramping himself up to indulge in some serious sulking and Diego has to repress that wave of fondness again.

“We’re not going back just yet.”

He doesn’t know if he’s planned this without realising or if it just came to him in a flash of instinct, but he turns and drives away from the direction of the Academy.

“So where are we going?” Asks Klaus, distrusting and Diego supposes he’s earned the right to be a little sceptical so he doesn’t call him on it, “are you taking me for ice cream since I’ve been such a good boy?”

“Klaus, you’ve never been a good boy a day in your life.”

Klaus snorts but doesn’t answer, instead turning back to stare out of the window at the streets rolling by and the buildings starting to thin as they leave the thick of the city. He fully turns his back to Diego, like wants to make sure that it’s very clear that he’s annoyed with him. Diego leaves him to it.

Eventually they pull into a motel parking lot and Diego climbs out of the car, then dips his head back into the open door to look at Klaus.

“Stay here ok,” he says, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

“See what?” He hears Klaus shout after him through a crack he’s opened in his window, “why am I at another murder motel? I’m having flashbacks, Diego!”

Diego walks into the front office and pays for a room for a couple of hours, family meeting be damned. The bored attendant doesn’t bat an eye at the bandoliers covering Diego’s chest or the amount of leather he’s wearing. He’d chosen only the finest establishment, after all, the staff renowned for their discretion.

He walks back to the car to fetch Klaus, opening the door and beckoning him to follow with a jerk of his head. Klaus, not having bothered to get out of the car yet, notices the key in his hand and smiles incredulously up at him. Diego tires of waiting for him and pulls him out himself with the same grip to his bicep that he’d used to put him in the car in the first place back at the bar.

“Diego, have you brought me to a motel like a cheap whore?” He asks, his voice shifting from the irritation of earlier to his usual wheedling tone as he tries to tease Diego.

“It takes one to know one,” Diego replies without turning around.

“Seriously, have you been reading my diary? How did you know this was my dream?”

“It’s your dream to be treated like a cheap whore?” Diego makes the decision to bite, just enough to keep Klaus from sulking again.

“I’ll have you know my dream is to be treated like an escort , but this was usually the best I got.” Klaus doesn’t make sense half of the time he speaks, like he’s having a slightly different conversation to everyone else, and this is no different. “Anyway I was an excellent whore back in my day, and I certainly wasn’t cheap enough for somewhere like this.”

Diego rolls his eyes. They both know Klaus has no such standards, especially not where drugs were concerned.

They make it into the room eventually, Klaus all but talking to himself since Diego stopped listening to him. It looks like every single and cheap dirty motel Diego has ever been in, but it’ll do for what he needs. They’re only going to make it dirtier anyway if Klaus goes along with what he has planned.

“You said it was only fair that I made up for cockblocking you, so here we are.” He says as he closes the door behind Klaus, “so how's about you take your shit off and tell me what you want.”

Klaus takes a second to gape, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, before he shakes his head a little and starts undressing. Diego gives him credit for how quickly he gets with the programme, already halfway to naked. He supposes there aren’t many pranks they’d play on each other that would involve the promise or threat of sex.

“What do you want, Klaus?” Diego asks again when Klaus finishes undressing and throws his clothes over the back of one of the seats at the rickety table under the window. They mostly miss and end up on top of the table instead.

“Well, I mean, it depends on who you’re bringing in doesn’t it?” Klaus should sound unsure, he obviously isn’t quite as aware of Diego’s intentions as he’d assumed, but now that he’s over his moment of hesitation he’s just rolling with the punches.

Diego gestures to himself and holds his arms open wide to frame himself.

“Me, obviously.”

“You?” Klaus questions.

“Yes, me. Do you see anyone else in here?”

“Well, you could have gone out to hire someone, couldn’t you? It doesn’t pay to assume in these kinds of situations.”

“Just get on the fucking bed, Klaus,” Diego sighs, working on the buckle of one of his bandoliers and easing it down his shoulders before draping it over the back of the chair that Klaus’ clothes should have landed on.

“Now, hold on a seco-” Klaus starts to protest, and Diego cuts him off.

“Unless you don’t think you’re up for all of this?” He replies, holding a hand up to his torso again.

“Oh Diego honey, I’m more than certain that I’d be able to handle anything you throw at me and then some,” Klaus drawls as he climbs up to kneel on the bed, “I was just going to say that you never let me tell you what I want.”

Diego pauses, the wind slightly taken out of his sails. He has a point after all.

“So what do you want then?”

“For a start you should keep the gloves on.” Klaus’ voice becomes lower as he looks at the leather of Diego’s gloves, soft and supple from years of wear.

Diego brings up a fist and clenches hard, so that the creak of the leather is the loudest sound in the room. Klaus’ eyes flutter a little at the sound and Diego smirks. Looks like Klaus is going to be easy to please.

“Keep the knives close as well.”

That makes Diego pause for a second, not expecting Klaus to ask for anything quite so severe. He doesn’t know if it’s a genuine request or if Klaus is feeling the spirit of competition too.

“You don’t have to try and impress me you know Klaus. I won’t judge you if you secretly just like missionary and a nice cuddle afterwards.” He smirks when he says it but it’s a genuine offer, as much as he’s enjoying their little tete-a-tete he doesn’t want Klaus to fuck himself up just to prove a point.

“Now who’s the one who can’t handle ‘ all of this’,” Klaus’ strength has never been impressions and his attempt to replicate Diego’s voice is awful. “Anyway, you asked me what I want and I’m telling you. I’m not here for sweet kisses and hand holding, otherwise I wouldn’t have been talking to the biggest guy in the bar. I want you to leave marks that’ll last for days, I want you to hurt me so much that I can’t sit down afterwards. Think you can handle that, Diego?”

Diego feels his cock twitch in his pants and swallows heavily.

“That, I can do,” he replies, his voice gravelly even to his own ears. At least he knows the kind of parameters he's operating with here.

For all that Diego relies on his ability to plan ahead and adapt and overcome, to think on his feet in a rapidly changing situation, his plan for this mostly ended at actually getting Klaus naked.

He’s never thought that Klaus was a chocolates and flowers type of guy, more crack and cocaine, but he’d half expected Klaus to just want him to pull his hair a bit, maybe make Klaus ask permission to touch himself. The standard type of thing that bored housewives think is going to spice up their sex lives and save their marriages.

Diego doesn’t have much experience with some of the harder stuff in the bedroom, especially not from this side of things. Eudora had liked to experiment a little, some role play here, unauthorised use of handcuffs there, but that was honestly about the extent of it.

He can roll with it though. He knows how much of a beating someone can take and still walk away no worse for wear, he knows a lot of knots and how to tie them tight enough to restrain but not cut off any circulation, he knows how to read a body and see what it’ll take to get what he wants from it.

It’s maybe not the best thing in the world to use knowledge gained from his crusade to clean up the streets to get Klaus off but Klaus has always had a way of making people do things they never thought they would. Case in point; The fact that Diego is about to quite happily take Klaus apart in one of the seediest motels he’s ever been inside of.

“What else do you want?” Diego asks eventually, after considering Klaus for a few moments.

“Anything, as long as it’s not too vanilla. I doubt you could do anything that would be too much, I really can’t say I see you as the whips and chains type, even with all the leather.”

“Yeah, well,” Diego retorts pleasantly, “we’ll see who’s vanilla in a minute won’t we.”

Klaus simply smiles blandly back at him and lies down on his front, looking like he’s already bored. Diego takes up Klaus’ obvious gauntlet and scoops his knife belt off the back of the chair to throw it on the bottom of the bed.

“For later,” Diego promises when Klaus looks over at him, and he only bothers to raise an eyebrow in response. He’s a cocky prick when he wants to be, Diego thinks, and he can’t wait to see just what he can reduce him to by the time they’re finished.

“Hold onto the headboard as tight as you can, and don’t you dare let go. I don’t have any rope to keep you there so you’re actually going to have to make an effort to do something for once in your life.” Diego growls, and isn’t surprised but is slightly annoyed that Klaus has no reaction to it. Criminals have cowered before him when he uses that voice and Klaus should be no different.

Klaus reaches slowly up to grip the slats of the headboard, insolence clear as crystal even in the the way he moves. It’s honestly impressive just how much of an asshole he can be without opening his mouth.

“And if I let go?” He asks, holding Diego’s eyes as he lets go of the wood, “What will you do to me then?”

Diego pauses for a second, considering. Klaus was always going to test the boundaries, given that Klaus’ entire life and purpose is to test boundaries and to then breeze past them as if they were never there. Now is as good a time as any to establish his authority, he supposes.

He darts out his hand and smacks Klaus hard in the crease between his ass and the top of his thigh. The crack rings out in the room and Diego feels a stinging warmth in the palm of his hand. There’s no point starting soft when he knows Klaus can take it.

Before either of them can react he does it again on the other leg, leaving behind two handprints on Klaus’ pale skin that bloom visibly like a flower in a time lapse.

“Mmmm,” Klaus groans, “that felt nice. And all I have to do to get you to do it again is to let go of the headboard?”

Diego can’t let that go. He knows Klaus is pushing him towards the level of intensity that he wants from Diego, albeit in his own specific and very annoying way.

He locks eyes with Klaus as he reaches for his belt and slowly undoes the buckle, pulling the leather free with an audible hiss as it brushes against the material of his pants.

A shiver runs up Klaus’ spine and Diego is almost certain it’s a shiver of anticipation, of excitement. Once the belt is free he folds it in half and wraps one end of it around his fist, snapping the leather together with a sickening crack. Klaus squirms a little on the bed, still watching him but eyes glazed over.

He’s almost certain that Klaus, out of all of them, was the most intimately familiar with Dad’s collection of canes. Luther and Vanya probably only ever saw them once or twice, but Five and himself were semi-regular visitors to the study with heads hanging low, and Allison wasn’t a stranger to it either. In fact, he thinks, Klaus may have been the entire reason Dad had a collection of canes in the first place. At one point in time it was an almost daily occurrence for Klaus to be escorted away to the office by Grace, looking unrepentant and uncowed, until he started spending more and more time away from the mansion and it became clear there was no beating Dad could give him that would get him to be the Number Four he'd dreamed of.

Just like everything else with Klaus, being punished like that did change him, but not in the way Dad would have wanted it to. Dad wanted him to embrace the spirits, Klaus embraced liquid spirits and more besides, Dad wanted Klaus to be more decisive, Klaus decided to flout every rule in the Academy, Dad punished Klaus to make him fall in line, and Klaus just fell in love with being punished.

He raises his arm and bring the belt down over Klaus’ shoulders, ears ringing at the sound of the impact far more than after he’d used his hand. He watches Klaus squirm with his head buried in the pillow for a few seconds before he curves back up and lets out a guttural moan.

It’s obvious that despite the pleasure he’s taken from it, it’s done more for Diego than just spanking him with an open hand. Klaus reaches back up to grip the headboard, catching Diego’s eye as he does it so that they both have to acknowledge what it is; an active choice from Klaus to follow Diego’s word. For now.

He’ll take it.

“You want more?” He asks, his voice rough and dark.

“Fuck yeah I want more,” Klaus says, still looking at him.

“I don’t think that’s the correct way to ask for something you want.”

Klaus grins, bright and amused. He’ll keep playing along as long as Diego makes it interesting.

“Please sir,” he says in a terrible British accent, “I want some more.”

He should have known he wouldn’t do it properly.

Diego lets the belt fall on him twice in quick succession, leaving behind two blooming welts just under the first one, moving down over his shoulders and onto his back.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Klaus groans, moving from pain to pleasure with impressive speed. He rubs himself over the bed like he can’t keep himself still in the aftermath of the blow, but he doesn’t let go of the headboard.

“You like that?” Diego rasps. He’s not fully hard, but he’s so turned on that he feels like he could come easily if he turned his attentions on himself. It’s not a distraction though, rather a state of hyperfocus that keeps him rooted in the moment, rooted to Klaus.

The marks on his back change visibly, the sweat beading at his temples and on the back of his neck standing out starkly even from where Diego is standing, the minute movements of Klaus’ muscles clear as day as he settles back into the bed.

“Will you stop if I say yes?” He breathes, eyes closed.

“Only if you don’t do what I tell you.”

Diego works his way down Klaus’ back, easing up only under his ribcage. He knows what it’s like to have bruised kidneys and it’s not an experience he wishes on anyone else.

When he gets to the bottom of Klaus’ spine he gives himself more length on the belt so that it wraps around the curve of Klaus’ hips a little when he brings it down against Klaus’ body. Once they’re nice and red and stinging like the rest of his skin he leans over him, looming large and intimidating.

“Imagine how much it would burn if I held you down by the hips hard enough to bruise while I fucked you into the mattress,” Diego whispers, low and heavy, lips close enough to brush the shell of Klaus’ ear.

Klaus moans again at that, his hand flying from the headboard to thread into Diego’s hair to hold him there. Diego smirks into the side of Klaus’ head, letting his stubble drag over Klaus’ skin.

He grips Klaus’ hand by the wrist and pulls it out of his hair, his fist heavy and hard around it like a vice or a manacle.

“Ah ah ah Klaus,” he admonishes, “someone forgot the rules again.”

“Oops,” Klaus smiles, not an ounce of regret in his body, “must have slipped my mind.”

“Get up on your knees,” Diego commands. “On all fours, hurry up.”

He doesn’t let go of Klaus’ wrist and watches him struggle to push himself up with an arm twisted up behind him. Eventually Diego lets go, but only after Klaus is in position.

Diego takes a second to admire the form of his body, naked and waiting for him, ready and willing only in that he has allowed Diego to assume control and only for as long as he deigns to acknowledge that control. He takes a few slow steps around the bed so that he’s standing behind Klaus.

There’s another crack of the belt against skin and Klaus howls, rocking forward into the mattress. Diego lets another few blows fly, each one at a different angle on Klaus’ ass crack and each catching his balls. They’re not gentle blows either.

Klaus goes between cursing around a giggle and asking for more. For a second Diego thinks he’s just being an asshole before he sees Klaus pushing back up into position when Diego hesitates between blows, ready for another one.

Diego apparently underestimated the level of pain Klaus can endure and still get off on it, and it’s honestly impressive, if a little concerning. The skin across his shoulders and down his back must be tight and sore every time he moves and yet he can’t see any hesitation, any sign that Klaus shies away from any movement that would make it worse.

He girds himself for a moment before he swings the belt upwards between his spread legs to slap fully against his balls, and this time Klaus’ moan betrays a hint of pain. He’s found the level that Klaus can take but not enjoy properly. Finally.

“Fuck, do it again Diego,” Klaus moans, lowering his chest to the bed but keeping his ass in the air, presented for Diego’s pleasure, or for his own.

Maybe not, Diego thinks. Klaus is just something else entirely, something he's never come across before and probably never will again.

“Hey Diego, don't wuss out on me now, we’re finally getting somewhere interesting!” He crows, “I mean I’ve literally had electroshock pads on my asshole, you can’t hurt me worse than that with nothing but your hands and a bit of leather.”

It could be a lie. Diego doesn’t see what you’d get from having your ass zapped but Klaus would be the one to get something out of it even if no one else could, so. It probably checks out.

“And the knives? You've seen exactly what I can do with them.”

“Oh yeah,” Klaus breathes, “why'd you think I wanted you to keep them close?”

Instead of responding Diego just gives him another three lashes, each harder than the last and each making Klaus even louder, before he drops the belt completely. Klaus might be able to handle it, might be able to get off on it even, but Diego can’t quite get the thought of doing permanent damage to him out of his head.

He ignores the whine of protest from Klaus and leans over him again, heat still radiating from the skin of his back.

“Now put your hands on the fucking headboard like a good boy and do. not. move.”

Klaus flashes him a smile before he pulls his arms out from under his chest and wraps his hands around the wooden slats again. Diego doesn’t trust him not to move them but he’s interested to see how long he’ll last this time. Impulse control has always been Klaus’ enemy.

“Keep your hips up nice and high for me,” he growls, ghosting the back of his gloved fingers over the soft skin of his flank and down over his ass cheek. It’s not enough to hurt, after the belting, but his skin should be sensitive enough to feel it much more than normal.

Klaus shivers. Bingo.

Diego pets him for a while longer, soft strokes and lingering touches over the red and purple skin that raise goosebumps over Klaus’ arms. It’s a contrast to the violence so far, something grounded in fondness but also teasing, and Klaus makes such lovely noises while he does it. They’re halfway between impatience and enjoyment, breathless little things.

Then he brings his hand down hard over the darkest marks on Klaus’ asscheek and revels in the strangled moan Klaus lets out.

“How many people have fucked you like this, Klaus?” Diego asks, his tone flat but curious enough to elicit an answer from Klaus.

“Depends what you mean by ‘like this’,” he starts, pushing back into Diego’s hand.

Diego holds him still with a firm grip around his reddened hip and continues to land blows over his ass and the dip of his spine.

“In a seedy motel? Face down ass up? All in leather?” His voice hitches slightly when Diego hits him but he continues, deep satisfaction audible every time.

“I’ll be honest, you’re not the first for any of them,” Klaus smiles, “but don’t worry, you don’t have all that much to live up to.”

Diego smirks back and leans over Klaus, not quite as close as the first time.

“Have you fucked Luther?” Diego asks cooly.

“Luther? Why would I fuck Luther? He wouldn’t know where to put his dick if you gave him a map and ten step instructions.”

Klaus sounds genuinely confused, like the thought had never even crossed his mind and Diego smirks harder. Chalk that up as a point in his favour.

“So I’m the first,” Diego says, satisfied in a way he really doesn’t want to look at any closer for now.

Klaus twists onto his side and grabs Diego’s arm that’s currently caging him in as Diego hovers over him.

“Would that get you off? To know that this is the first time I’ve ever fucked one of the family?” He asks, voice honeyed and dark. “Do you want me to tell you how I watched you when we were still at the academy? Or how I used to jerk off thinking about you sweating in the gym or practicing with your knives?”

Diego watches him and lets a slow, equally dark smile grow across his face. There is part of him that takes a considerable amount of satisfaction at that, even if it’s not true. He’s obviously not immune to a little ego stroking. But that’s not what he’s concerned with right now.

He climbs onto the bed properly, knees either side of Klaus’ hips and he jabs at Klaus’ shoulder to push him back onto his front, taking no care to be gentle where he catches the lashes on his back. He covers Klaus as much as he can and slides one arm around his neck and pulls up slightly, the other sliding the knife out of his thigh holster to hold at Klaus’ throat.

The knife is sharp. He knows just how deadly it is because he sharpened it this morning, lovingly running over the blade again and again until it could cut through an asshole on the streets like soft butter. The feeling of it at Klaus’ throat causes a heat to stir in his stomach, the way he knows innately just how hard he can press on Klaus’ skin so that he can feel it, so that it hurts, but not so that it'll do any damage to him.

“I want you to tell me why you moved your hands again, Klaus,” Diego says, heavy and hushed. He gives Klaus a few moments to answer, expecting yet another smartass remark. Nothing comes.

“No answer, huh? Nothing smart you want to say?”

Klaus whimpers slightly, and Diego leans in even closer, lips moving against his ear this time.

“That’s what I thought.”

He removes the knife from against Klaus’ throat and moves it down to his waist.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to prove to me that you can be a good boy, ok? And if you do what I tell you to, you’ll get a reward. Got it?”

Klaus makes a mumbled affirmation, but Diego isn’t ready to let go yet.

“What was that, Klaus?”

“Yes, Diego,” Klaus breathes. Diego’s stomach swoops at the way his voice sounds, like he’s already halfway to coming and Diego has barely done anything.

“I want you to stay as still as you can for me, and I’ll tell you when you can move again.”

Klaus nods, and Diego allows it.

He adjusts his grip on the knife pressing into Klaus’ waist and drags it slowly across his skin, just enough pressure to break the skin and let the blood well up but not enough to cause any permanent damage.

Klaus whines high in his throat, the vibration of it a soft rumble where his chin is still resting in the cradle of Diego’s arm.

Diego makes another cut, and a third. He can’t see them but he knows they’re perfect lines, evenly spaced and uniformly deep. He can’t say he’s ever imagined how his powers could ever be used in this context but he has to admit they’re handy.

He pulls away slowly and slides the knife back into the sheath with a hiss that’s louder in the silence of the room and lets go of Klaus’ head to sit up again. He flops into the bed and doesn’t move, and Diego is impressed.

Apparently he’s found a level of violence that Klaus respects enough to follow his orders without complaint. He tries not to let the thought of why exactly that’s what Klaus responds to above all else ruin the atmosphere they’ve built up.

Leaning forward again, Diego kisses a trail up Klaus’ spine, feeling the heat of his blows in Klaus’ skin against his lips, and ends by dragging his teeth over the shell of his ear, the trembling of Klaus’ body underneath him sending another surge of heat to his dick.

“See, you can be good when you really try,” he praises, dark and amused but genuinely proud.

“Now tell me what else you want, and I’ll let you move around as much as you want.”

“Finger me.” Klaus breathes immediately, barely allowing Diego to finish, “fucking finger me I need something-”

“Ah ah,” Diego interrupts, “what’s the magic word?”

“Finger me please Diego, Jesus Christ.”

The old Klaus is back, and as much as Diego enjoyed seeing Klaus under his control,  impudent asshole Klaus is the one that Diego enjoys most of all.

And if nothing else, Klaus biting back make him feel sure that he’s not going too far, because he can hear how much Klaus likes it, how much Klaus acts up just for the attention and the resulting punishment.  

He’s never felt the need to employ violence in the bedroom before. He usually prefers to make sure that they both have as thoroughly a pleasurable experience a possible, no pain involved. But hearing Klaus, feeling the way he responds to it, seeing the evidence of it all over his skin has awakened something in him that he didn’t know existed. It’s like the feeling he gets after a good night on the street where he knows he made a difference no matter how small, or how he felt when they all completed a mission together back before everything else went to shit, except it’s amplified by a carnal satisfaction, a need to possess. It’s fucking addictive.

Diego would be more than happy to finger him, happy to take a brief respite from attempting to beat his brother into submission, but he can’t just give Klaus what he wants straight away. It would set a bad precedent. Klaus may be telling what he wants but Diego is still in charge of the execution. Or at least, that’s how it should work in theory. In practice it seems that it’s a little more messy.

He pulls himself up from where he’s still crouching over Klaus and shuffles backwards slightly so that he can swing Klaus’ leg over him and settle him in his lap. He leaves Klaus’ chest on the bed but pulls his hips up to rest on Diego’s thighs, providing easy access.

Klaus’ asscheeks are still a mottled mess of purple and red and Diego couldn’t stop himself from touching them if he tried. He grabs a handful of each cheek in his hands, rubbing and squeezing and kneading in turns as he listens to the sweet sweet sounds of Klaus trying his best to decide between getting closer and getting away from Diego’s hands.

“I’ll give you what you asked for,” Diego drawls, “but I’ll be the one who decides when you get it.”

They both know as soon as Klaus decides he’s done with playing games this is over, all he needs to is roll over and tell Diego to give it a rest. But there’s something keeping them both in it, it’s partly the competition between them, partly the growing need to get off no matter how, and partly something else that Diego can’t quite pin down. Something that apparently runs deeper than either of them realise.

Klaus, uncharacteristically, doesn’t call him on any of that, so Diego finds it safe to assume that the dynamic they’ve fallen into is doing it for him too. They both know Diego isn’t the one calling the shots for real, that Klaus has surrendered his control for the time being and is trusting Diego to do what it is that he wants and how he wants it. Or within reason, anyway.

Once he’s managed to bring up a new flush of red over Klaus’ asscheeks he’s ready to finally give Klaus what he asked for. Except he doesn’t have any lube.

He says as much to Klaus, who shifts restlessly in his lap for a moment, like he can’t bear even the slightest deviation from their plan.

“Look in the inside pocket of my coat, there should be something there.”

What the fuck, Diego thinks, as he eases Klaus’s hips back onto the bed and he slides off to find where he’d left Klaus’ clothes.

Sure enough, there’s a decent enough sized tube of KY that’s almost full. Well he’ll be damned.

He stares at us as he carries it back over to the bed. It’s hardly the weirdest behaviour Klaus has ever displayed, not even the weirdest this week, but it’s still weird enough to give Diego pause.

“Why the fuck do you carry lube around in your pocket?” He asks as he climbs back onto the bed, this time pushing Klaus’ legs apart and crawling up between them.

“You never know,” Klaus returns airily, like Diego is the idiot for asking.

“You never know what ?”

“Does it really matter Diego? Will you just fucking get on with it already.”

Fair enough.

Klaus shuffles backwards back into Diego’s lap as Diego flips open the cap on the tube and has another moment of hesitation. Gloves on or off?

“God, and keep the gloves on,” Klaus commands, like he’s read Diego’s mind and heard his indecision. It’s entirely possible that he could read Diego’s mind, at least when it comes to sexual deviancy. Klaus just always seems to know when you’ve got some kind of weird sex thing that you don’t want anyone to know about.

Mind made up, he coats a gloved finger in lube and gets to work. He runs it around Klaus’ hole, making sure the lube gets everywhere it needs to be before he starts to push inside. He doesn’t give Klaus any time to get over the cold of the lube or to catch his breath before gets in to the first knuckle and keeps going. Klaus doesn’t need time to adjust, he’s been waiting for this the whole time.

He hears Klaus hissing his approval and pushing his ass back into Diego, enough that Diego spreads his palm over Klaus’ asscheek, half to keep him in place and half to spread him open even wider. Baring him to Diego’s eager gaze.

It doesn’t take long until Klaus demands another finger, and another, and Diego is suddenly fucking into him in long even strokes with three fingers inside of him, the leather of his gloves glistening slick in the sickly light of the motel room.

The sensation is… odd. It’s not bad, in any way, and Klaus obviously agrees with that, but it’s very different to what he’s used to. Klaus is so fucking tight and it takes him much longer than it would take him to open up a girl, although Klaus doesn’t seem to think Diego is going fast enough. He’s only as wet as Diego can make him with the lube and his ability to find a G-spot in thirty seconds or less is useless here. Not that he's had much use for it lately anyway.

And then there’s the gloves, dulling the sensation until all he can feel is the glide and the heat, fingers brushing only the dry velvety lining of the gloves.

Klaus doesn’t hold the headboard and Diego doesn’t care anymore, he hadn’t told him to hold on again and he could probably only touch it with the tips of his fingers now anyway. He has no desire to move from Diego’s lap though and that’s enough.

Once Diego finally finds the right angle he exploits it mercilessly, revelling in the way Klaus goes from an asshole with a mile-a-minute mouth to an asshole who can’t get more than two words out before he cuts himself off with moans or gasps.

“Fuck Diego, I need more,” Klaus whines, the insistent push of his hips having already given away his need.

And so Diego gives him a fourth finger, watching him writhe on them, watching the pull of the skin of his back, the welts turning a shade of purple that Diego has never seen before but has already fallen in love with.

He can’t quite reach Klaus’ prostate like this but he doesn’t think Klaus minds, seeming to love the stretch of it more than anything else so Diego makes sure to give him what he wants, pushing his fingers in harder and holding them there with his knuckles pressed against the rim of Klaus’ hole for longer. He’s fairly sure Klaus is close now, and he works to get him there as best he can.

Then Klaus asks for more, and Diego doesn’t know what to do. This is so far out of his depth now, beyond what he can figure out with context and by stretching his experience. Klaus has asked for more than Diego ever would have given him himself, asked for things harder and faster where Diego thought they would have been more than enough, but this is the first time Diego has actually been stumped.

He can’t give Klaus more without pushing in past his knuckles and he just… doesn’t think it can fit.

“Klaus, if I give you any more my entire hand will be up your ass like you’re a puppet.” He tries to keep the cool surety in his voice but it obviously betrays him. Or maybe it’s just Klaus somehow knowing yet again.

“Did I fucking stutter, Diego?” He pants, voice harsh with the noises he’s been making, words harsh with intent. He turns to look at Diego over his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about taking off the gloves this time.”

His eyes are so dark, the skin around them looking bruised, but they sparkle with that manic Need that Klaus gets sometimes, the need that Diego assumes is what drives Klaus to do the things he does. Maybe there’s a hollowness to Klaus that that he just needs to fill but has never yet managed to find anything that truly satisfies him.

Diego doubts this will be any different, maybe only in the sense that it’s a lot more literal.

He snaps his brain back into the mindset he needs, letting go of his attempt to psychoanalyse Klaus in favour of apparently fisting him to within an inch of his life. He just needs to figure out the logistics of it. He’s doing this for Klaus, and if this is what he wants then that’s what Diego is going to give him.

He drizzles more lube over the back of his hand and takes a second to work out the approach. Eventually, he decides to try tucking his thumb into his palm and works it into Klaus’ hole slowly, stretching it even wider. It feels like it would be a struggle to push it in further like this though, the position of his hand feeling awkward. Maybe if he tries to stretch Klaus out with the width of his knuckles first it’ll give him more room to work with later.

Klaus is back to that odd silence, speaking only in shaky breaths and little groans. Diego works Klaus open gradually on four fingers, spreading them out every so often, his thumb resting on Klaus’ taint as he works.

The more he feels Klaus stretch out around his fingers the more settled he feels in his own skin. He can do this, he’s going to to it well, and Klaus is going to love it. He’s going to win.

Once he has Klaus opened up enough to take the span of his knuckles halfway in without too much of an effort he pulls back out a little and tucks his thumb back into his palm, adds more lube, and goes for broke. He pushes in slowly but firmly and this time doesn’t stop or dial back when he feels the resistance of the muscle. He keeps going.

Klaus has turned his head to bury it in the pillow, chanting a litany of nonsense words and fragments, compelling Diego to just fucking do it already, not to stop unless he doesn't value his life.

Diego has no such plans, and continues the achingly slow push into Klaus’s body. He feels the jolt as the widest part of his hand finally makes it through Klaus’ hole, and hears the corresponding mewl through the pillow.

There’s sweat gathering at Diego’s temples, sweat running down Klaus’ back and the curve of his spine, looking fucking gorgeous.

By the time Diego gets his whole fist properly seated inside Klaus his legs are trembling, his knees starting to slide further apart where they can’t hold his weight up properly anymore.

He gets a grip on Klaus’ hip to hold him still and in an effort to bear some of his weight to stop him from dropping face first into the bed.

As he starts to pump his fist slowly in and out he uses the grip on Klaus to pull him back into it, slow and insistent, not allowing Klaus any choice over how exactly Diego fucks into him.

The hand on his hip doesn’t help, and Diego takes a second to plant his knees wider on the bed before he leans over and wraps his arm around Klaus’ chest, taking his full weight. It’s an awkward angle on his wrist, and he turns his hand so that he’s palm-up inside Klaus.

And that’s how he fucks him. It’s still a bit of an awkward rhythm at first, juggling between keeping his balance, keeping a hold on Klaus, and working his fist at just the right speed.

He can feel every movement klaus makes, every twitch and jerk, he can feel him writhe and sweat and and cry. Diego hears the shake in his voice as he rants under his breath about how good it feels and how he thinks he’s about to die from how full he is, and how despite that he begs for Diego not to stop, to go faster or harder or just begs for more.

Diego doesn’t understand how Klaus can still ask for more when Diego has an entire fist inside him, and he thinks back to his idea about Klaus trying to fix an emptiness inside of him with things that can’t fill him up. It makes him desperately sad for a moment, that Klaus is hurting and hiding it, that he’s inadvertently allowing Diego to see it, until Klaus clenches around his wrist and moans his name.

He feels comfortable enough now with the concept of fisting that he’s ready to try doing more with it. He tries opening and clenching his fist in turns, relishing the way it seems to steal Klaus’ breath for a second each time.

Then he tries expanding his fist as he pulls it out and smirks when Klaus jolts sharply in his arms and lets out a noise that Diego honestly didn’t think human beings were capable of making. Klaus jumping almost upsets their balance on the covers but Klaus plants one hand on the bed and claws at Diego’s arm across his chest with the other.

Now that he’s found Klaus’ prostate again he works it hard, fucking him shallowly with his fist so that he never stops hitting it just right.

Klaus lasts longer than Diego thought he would, but even so it’s hardly a long time before Klaus goes rigid in his grip and then flops like a limp noodle, only his ass in the air where Diego’s arm has slipped down to his waist. He has a vice grip around Diego’s wrist and it hits Diego that for all he wasn’t sure about doing it, he’d only actually thought about getting his fist in, and not at all about getting it back out again.

It’s a slow process. Diego relaxes his fist as much as he can without overstimulating Klaus but it’s a futile effort judging by the half pained half pleasured moan Klaus lets out. At least he tried. He gets it out eventually in increments, and it goes faster once Klaus pulls himself together enough to help the process along.

“You gonna fuck me now?” Klaus asks and Diego smiles.

He circles Klaus’ stretched and empty hole with his thumb, dipping it in and out again just to hear Klaus whine.

“If I fucked you now I wouldn’t even be able to feel you, baby,” he rumbles, somewhere between soothing and amused.

Diego is most of the way to hard, and if he thought about getting off he could quite easily tick over into the kind of hard where he needs to come as soon as is physically possible but the focus he’s had to maintain to make sure Klaus gets what he needs has kept him from going over that edge so far.

“Sorry baby,” Klaus says, and Diego doesn’t even know if Klaus consciously mirrors him when he calls him baby or if it just happens without him realising. Neither are displeasing options.

“I’ll get you back next time.”

“Sure thing,” Diego allows, getting up from the bed to stretch out his legs and get something to clean Klaus up with.

He comes out of the bathroom with the hand towel wet through with warm water and the bath towel slung over his shoulder for after Klaus is clean. Or cleaner, at least. On the way past the table he drops his freshly cleaned gloves on top of the pile of Klaus’ clothes. He doesn't want to wear them for the next bit, he wants to be able to feel Klaus’ skin properly, and he wants to give Klaus that differentiation between the way Diego touches him.

A hand on Klaus’ shoulder stops him from jumping when Diego starts gently wiping the damp cloth over Klaus’ back and up over his shoulders. He wipes away the sweat and follows the cloth with his hand, checking for anywhere he’s broken the skin by accident.

He runs it even more gently over Klaus’ hole and his balls, but not quite soft enough as Klaus twitches and moans until he moves on, the worst of the lube wiped away.

Finally he helps Klaus to kneel up on the bed so he can clean his chest and the come off his stomach, offering him an arm to hold on to for balance. Klaus shakes with the effort of holding himself up and Diego mutters soothing platitudes to him about how he can lie down in a second.

He holds onto Klaus for a second longer as he pulls the top sheet down and off the bed as much as he can so that neither of them have to endure the wet spot, then lets Klaus flop down into the mess of pillows.

Diego climbs onto the bed next to him, halfway between lying down and sitting up propped against the pillows Klaus hasn’t appropriated.

It’s an oddly comfortable silence, weird because Klaus has always taken silence as an invitation to speak until someone else fills the gap, usually just to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“I don’t think I can move,” he groans, his voice breathy in a way that makes Diego think of being so wiped you can’t even find the effort to speak properly, rather than any lingering arousal.

“I paid for two hours so we have another,” Diego checks his watch, “forty five minutes before we have to go anywhere.”

“Two hours?” Klaus shifts onto his side with a small hiss of exertion so he can curl up, his shins pressing into Diego’s side, “pretty optimistic of you when you didn’t know how this was going to shake out.”

He smiles, and Diego has no idea if he’s just fucked the attitude out of him or if he’s just too tired for any kind of front, but he thinks it might just be the most genuine smile he’s ever seen from Klaus.

He’s hardly smiling at him like he thinks Diego hangs the moon in the sky or anything, it’s just a normal smile, but it still makes Diego slightly uncomfortable. It’s feels like it’s something he was never meant to see, like looking at pictures from behind the scenes of a move that ruin the magic. Klaus has never been this open before, he’s all smoke and mirrors, deflection and illusion, four lies to hide one truth that he can’t avoid divulging. He's lying by omission, he's hiding in plain sight. There’s a reason Klaus has a certain way with words, a reason behind the way he looks and the way he acts. It’s all a big distraction from what lies underneath, misdirection.

And yet, at the same time as he feels wrong for seeing it, something swells in his chest at the fact that he’s the one who gets to see it, that he’s the one that made it happen. It doesn’t matter how he did it, either by earning Klaus’ trust or else just fucking him so good that he doesn’t have the energy to wrap himself back up in the disguise just yet. It’s still because of him.  He swallows heavily and carries on, keeping it to himself

“It was an investment. You’re pretty much a sure thing,” he winks at Klaus, “but I’m sure if you didn’t want to fuck we could have just braided each other’s hair, painted each other’s nails.”

Klaus smiles again, this time with some of the normal Klaus creeping back in.

“If nothing else I’m sure we’ve pissed off Luther, we’re holding up his precious family meeting.”

Diego smirks, he knew he liked Klaus for a reason.

“Ain’t that just the cherry on the cake,” he drawls. Ain’t it just.

A silence settles over them, like a gossamer sheet that gets heavier as the seconds tick by. Diego feels a thrill of fear and something else fill his chest, and for a horrific moment he thinks they might end up talking about feelings or something equally as terrifying, until Klaus breaks the tension by letting out a huge yawn.

He doesn’t know if Klaus meant to do it, or if he even felt the same danger as Diego, but the moment has passed and Diego lets himself melt back a little further into the pillows.

He’s glad he doesn’t have to try and put any of this into words, to justify it or excuse it or define it to Klaus, there’s no need to try to talk about things he doesn’t even have straight in his head yet. But lurking underneath that there’s also a strange sense of loss, a keen awareness that he just missed what could be the last chance to see behind Klaus’ defences again. The urge to look despite the discomfort it leaves him with sits with him now, and he doesn’t know if it’ll go away.

“Go to sleep if you want,” Diego tells him, “I’ll wake you up before we have to clear out.”

“Mmmm that sounds like an amazing plan,” Klaus rumbles and he sounds half asleep already, obviously two steps ahead of Diego, “better than anything Luther has ever come up with.”

Diego smiles as he folds his arms behind his head and settles in. Fucking A it is.