It’s not as if Klaus intends to creep on Diego. He just happens to walk into Diego’s room when Diego is changing, and really, you’d think they’d be used to seeing each other mostly naked by now considering how often this happened when they were kids.
But, Klaus thinks to himself, leaning surreptitiously against the doorframe, teenage Diego was annoying and a twink. Adult Diego is decidedly. . . not.
Diego is in the process of removing his harness. He lays it carefully across the foot of his bed, then toes off his shoes and shoves them off to the side. His shirts next—the thick black sweater, the thinner black turtleneck, and then Diego is in nothing but a white tank top.
Klaus watches the play of light over his back as he shimmies out of his jeans. His skin glows golden, shadows accentuating the dip and swell of muscles, of the scars that are usually hidden by his clothes. He watches with a sort of fascination he doesn’t entirely understand.
Maybe it’s because Diego’s always so covered up, wearing heavy boots and jeans and turtlenecks like they’re armor. We may not be running around in schoolboy shorts anymore, Klaus thinks, but Diego’s still wearing a uniform. At least he chose this one for himself. Seeing him so dressed down tugs at something in Klaus he thought he’d buried years ago.
The first time could be brushed off as an accident, but the second time? Yeah, even in his own mind, Klaus can’t pretend this was anything but deliberate. Sometimes Klaus hates that Reginald never let them close their doors, because even at thirty years old the sight of a closed door makes him feel as though Reginald is going to burst in at any second to punish him for breaking one of the house rules.
Sometimes he’s grateful, because it means that Diego leaves his door open even when he changes. Klaus doesn’t try to hide this time, merely lounges in the doorway and waits, but Diego appears distracted because it’s a while before Diego notices him. He jolts, hand flying to grasp at one of his knives on reflex, but he pauses when he sees who it is.
“Christ,” he hisses. “Warn a guy before you sneak up on him.”
Klaus shrugs, nonchalant despite the new tension in the room. The air is charged—it runs over his skin like tiny lances of lightning. “Not my fault you’re not paying attention,” he says. Diego rolls his eyes and lets his arm fall, but he’s still tense and doesn’t turn his back to Klaus.
“Did you want something or are you just here to bother me?” He pauses and looks Klaus up and down. “If you need a ride somewhere, you can save your breath.”
“Are you kidding? Why would I want to leave now? Everyone else is gone, so I have the house to myself.”
“We,” Diego says absentmindedly, and then flushes when Klaus leers.
“Oh, we do, do we?”
“I just meant that I’m here, too,” he says defensively.
“Hmm,” says Klaus. “That’s a good look on you, by the way.”
Diego looks down at himself and then raises an eyebrow at Klaus. “I’m wearing what I normally wear.”
“Exactly,” Klaus says. Diego flushes again, even as he strides towards Klaus and begins pushing him out the door. Klaus is wearing his favorite coat, the fur-lined leather one that makes him feel like a pimp, and he’s a bit disappointed he can’t feel the warmth of Diego’s hands on his skin.
“Okay, no,” Diego says. “I need to finish changing. If you’re really intent on bothering me, you can wait outside.”
Klaus lets himself be moved for only a second before ducking out of the loose grip Diego has on his shoulders. Living on the streets has made him slippery, or perhaps Diego being comfortable with him has made Diego too unguarded. Either way, Klaus has the door shut and Diego backed up against it before Diego can so much as gasp. They’re the same height so Klaus braces his hands on the wall on either side of Diego’s head and lifts himself onto his tiptoes, trying to appear bigger, and it must work at least a little bit because Diego’s eyes widen and his lips part.
“What if I don’t want to wait outside?” Klaus murmurs softly, leaning forward until their lips are centimeters apart. He waits. Diego looks conflicted, his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip caught between his teeth.
“Klaus?” he says quietly.
“I’ll leave if you want me to,” Klaus says, because he’s not the type of asshole to force himself on someone, no matter how thick the sexual tension between them. Diego’s eyes harden and Klaus tries to hide his disappointment, letting his arms drop to his sides as he takes a step back. He nearly falls on his ass when Diego darts towards him and presses their lips together, so suddenly that Klaus has to grab Diego’s shoulders to keep himself upright.
“What if I don’t want you to?” Diego says, and Klaus lets out a delighted sound.
“Then I’ll stay,” he says. “I hope you’re ready for this, hetero, because I’m about to rock your world.” He leans in and takes Diego’s lips in a bruising kiss, prying them open to sweep his tongue inside mercilessly. Diego melts into it, his arms wrapping around Klaus’ shoulders, and Klaus breaks the kiss with a surprised laugh as he winds his arm around Diego’s waist.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” Diego asks, breathless and dazed. His pupils are so blown that only the slightest ring of brown is visible around them. “I’m not a hetero, fuck you.”
“Oh?” Klaus leans in to nip at Diego’s jaw, grinning when Diego tilts his head back to give Klaus more room to work with. “Are you telling me I missed your sexuality crisis?”
He sucks at the soft skin just below Diego’s ear and Diego lets out a loud moan.
“To be fair,” he says, sounding entirely too coherent for what Klaus has planned for him, so Klaus bites Diego’s neck and grins when Diego’s words dissolve into an unintelligible noise of pleasure.
“To be fair?” Klaus prompts him. He walks them backwards and falls back onto the bed, pulling Diego down on top of him. Klaus mouths at Diego’s jaw, running his nails through Diego’s hair.
“Ah! To be—Klaus, fuck!”
Diego is straddling his legs, already pleasure-addled enough that he’s rutting mindlessly against Klaus, and Klaus throws his head back with a hiss when Diego finds Klaus’ cock and grinds down against it. Pleasure lances like lightning up his spine and makes him shiver, and as tempting as it is to rut against each other until they both come, that isn’t what Klaus wants out of this encounter.
He spreads his legs so that Diego is forced to spread his, too, and Diego whines so prettily when he loses his leverage that Klaus can’t help but surge up to kiss him again, hot and filthy. With his hands on Diego’s waist to keep him in place, Klaus wiggles back against the headboard so that he’s sitting up with Diego straddling his lap. Diego’s hands are everywhere, running over Klaus’ shoulders, his chest, his navel, and back up, and all the while he kisses him, hot and open-mouthed and filthy.
“Tell me,” Klaus gasps between kisses, “what you want.”
Diego curls his fingers in Klaus’ hair and tugs his head back, pressing a trail of biting kisses up and down his neck.
“You,” Diego says breathlessly. “Just you.”
Klaus lets out a laugh, faint and dazed. His cock is so hard it hurts, straining against the confines of his pants, and he’s just glad he decided against the leather ones today.
“Clearly,” he says. “I need you to be more specific, baby.”
“God, just shut up already,” Diego mutters. He shuffles backward so that he’s sitting on Klaus’ thighs instead of in his lap, giving himself room to tug Klaus’ shirt up and off.
“I can give you options,” Klaus suggests, his voice muffled by the shirt. It’s much easier to think now that Diego isn’t sitting directly on his cock, but Diego’s coherent, too, and that just won’t do. He shoves Diego’s shoulders, hard, and crawls over Diego’s body when he falls onto his back with an oof!
Diego glowers up at him, but he makes no move to throw Klaus off. His eyes darken even further when Klaus pauses to shimmy out of his pants, revealing a distinct lack of underwear. His cock hangs hard and heavy between his legs, and he has to resist the urge to grind down against Diego or the bed or whatever the hell is closest, honestly.
“Would you like to fuck me?” Klaus asks lowly, leaning down to lick a path from Diego’s jaw to his ear. He’s still fully clothed while Klaus is naked as the day he was spontaneously born, but that’s alright. He’s in no rush to get Diego naked.
Well, he is, but he’s willing to wait, at least.
“Klaus,” Diego moans, reaching up to pull Klaus down to kiss him. Klaus lets himself be pulled but turns his face away at the last second, putting his mouth next to Diego’s ear, and he grins at the irritated growl Diego lets out.
Klaus’ voice is a sultry purr when he says, “Would you like me to fuck you?” He dearly hopes the answer is yes because holy shit does his dick hurt. He’s delighted at the shiver that runs through Diego’s body, so strong that even Klaus can feel it. “I take it that’s a yes?”
“Please,” Diego says. He hooks one of his legs around the back of Klaus’ and thrusts his hips up, and Klaus groans at the feeling of rough denim against his bare cock. He kisses Diego, long and slow and deep, and by the time he pulls back, he’s panting. Diego, with his stupid breath-holding power, isn’t, but he looks debauched already—his hair a mess, his lips red and swollen, his eyes dark and dazed—so Klaus considers it a win.
“Okay,” he says, his voice a bit more soothing than he was going for. “Okay, I’ve got you, don’t worry.” Mindless babble—he barely knows what he’s saying. His hand dances along the bedspread, looking for supplies that aren’t there. “Lube, we need lots of lube.”
“Bedside table, bottom drawer,” Diego says, and flushes when Klaus raises an eyebrow at him.
“And just what would you need lube for, my dear, straight Diego?”
Diego growls again. “Klaus,” he snaps. “I discovered I could hold my breath forever the first time I sucked a dick and you are far from the first person to fuck me and if you don’t hurry up I will do it myself so for the love of God.”
Klaus’ mouth drops open, but even this isn’t enough to keep him speechless for long. A sly grin spreads across his face as he locates the lube and crawls back to Diego.
“Well, well,” he says. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”
“I’d like to be full of your dick,” Diego mutters petulantly. He wiggles insistently. “Hurry up.”
“You’re still wearing far too many clothes,” Klaus points out, reaching for the hem of Diego’s shirt, but Diego makes an impatient noise.
“Just pull my pants down and fuck me, Klaus,” he says. Klaus just barely schools his face in time to hide his frown. Like a uniform, he thinks, like armor.
“I don’t think so. You’re not some two-bit whore I picked up on the side of the road.” And then, because he really can’t resist, he adds, “You’d at least be one of the higher class prostitutes with repeat clientele.”
“Oh,” says Diego, “my God.” He looks as though he’s praying for strength. “You’ve ruined whatever mood you managed to create.” He kicks at Klaus half-heartedly with one socked foot, but Klaus catches his ankle and pushes his foot down onto the bed.
“Impatient,” Klaus says, running his hand up Diego’s leg. He carefully skirts around the bulge in his pants and instead reaches for the waistband, sliding his hands up underneath the soft, well-worn sweater Diego’s wearing. He doesn’t have on a ridiculous number of layers today, Klaus is pleased to note, so when he pushes the sweater up, all of Diego’s skin is immediately on display.
Klaus bends his head to lick. He grins when Diego jolts, the muscles in his abdomen shifting under Klaus’ tongue.
“Ticklish?” Klaus asks innocently.
“No,” Diego says, even though they both know it’s a lie. His head tips back onto the mattress when Klaus nips at the soft skin of his stomach. Klaus licks his way up Diego’s chest instead of down, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses across his skin until he reaches Diego’s nipples. He blows on the pierced one gently—and isn’t that a revelation in and of itself—just to watch it pebble up. Goosebumps erupt across Diego’s skin and he shivers, and without further warning, Klaus takes it into his mouth and swirls his tongue across it.
Diego hisses, his hand flying to Klaus’ hair, but he doesn’t pull him off so Klaus doesn’t stop. He props himself up with one arm and runs his free hand lightly across Diego’s skin, playing with the other nipple until it’s just as hard as its twin. Diego’s sweater is still bunched underneath his arms, smelling faintly of the flowery laundry detergent Mom liked to buy. Klaus wonders if Diego still buys that brand specifically because it reminds him of Mom, and it’s that thought more than any other that urges him to surge up and kiss Diego.
“Sit up a bit,” he says, and surprisingly Diego does. His eyes are very wide and very dark, and they don’t stray from Klaus’ as Klaus gently tugs the sweater up and over his head. Diego’s gaze doesn’t waver even when he flushes, his chest bare, his skin golden in the light and begging to be marked. Klaus feels just a bit like a vampire, but really, Diego has such a pretty neck, and weaker men than him have been swayed by the need to leave hickeys.
Diego whines when Klaus' teeth scrape over his pulse point. He’s everywhere, his hands wandering across Klaus’ shoulders, down his back, around his waist and back up his chest. His hands are warm and Klaus arches into the touch even as he moves from kissing Diego’s neck to kissing Diego’s lips.
He breaks away only to say, “You are entirely too sexy for your own good.” Even to his own ears, he sounds desperate. His voice is deep and a touch hoarse, his breath coming in harsh pants. Diego whines.
“Please,” he says again, and wow, two times in one night. I might have just discovered a new superpower, Klaus thinks. Number Four: able to conjure the dead and make Diego Hargreeves beg for dick.
“You’re kind of a slut,” Klaus says wonderingly, testingly, but Diego just flushes deeper and thrusts up against Klaus unconsciously. Klaus grins. His clever fingers dance along the skin just above Diego’s waistband. “Oh, you are, aren’t you? I was kind of kidding, honestly, but you’ve already begged twice tonight. Think we can keep the streak going?”
Diego seems to rally himself. He blinks open his eyes and glares at Klaus, but the effect is ruined by the way his hips are still gyrating against Klaus’.
“Are we going to have sex,” he says, “or not?”
Klaus pretends to think, even going so far as to tap his chin. He realizes that he’s still holding the lube.
“Or not,” he decides. He licks Diego’s lips. “I’m going to fuck you, you whore. I want you squirming on my cock until you’re sobbing.”
Diego’s eyelids flutter at that, and Klaus’ breath catches. Who knew words could have such an effect on someone as stoic and untouchable as Diego?
He decides to stop teasing. His cock, neglected as it is, is already beginning to leak precum, and honestly, if any more blood rushes south, he’ll pass out. Diego’s probably not in much better shape.
Klaus unbuttons Diego’s jeans and hooks his fingers in the belt loops to either side of his groin. He pulls them down slowly, letting his knuckles drag over Diego’s skin as he does. It takes a bit of maneuvering to get them all the way off—Diego still has one leg hooked over Klaus’—but eventually they’re off and Klaus tosses them across the room, unconcerned with where they end up.
He shuffles down, lying on his stomach between Diego’s legs, and all it takes is a tap to the inside of his thigh to get Diego to spread his legs.
“Good slut,” Klaus says, and grins when Diego whines. “How are you holding up, loverboy?” Diego merely shakes his head in response, and Klaus frowns in confusion. “Diego?” He abandons Diego’s cock for the moment—and a pity, too; even straining against black boxer briefs, it makes Klaus’ mouth water. Diego’s eyes are glazed when Klaus looks at him, his pupils wide and dark, and Klaus’ mouth drops open into an O of realization. “Subspace,” he says. “Right?”
Diego doesn’t answer verbally, but he closes his eyes and nods, just barely.
“Dirty talk, huh?” Klaus mutters, half to himself. Something dark and possessive preens at the fact that he’s had this kind of effect on Diego. He shimmies back down the bed, newly determined to make this the best fuck of Diego’s life. He takes less time with Diego’s underwear than he did with the jeans, pulling them off unceremoniously and tossing them onto the floor carelessly.
And then finally Diego is completely bare in front of him, beautiful and flushed and damn near panting with desire. His cock lies hard and thick between his legs and his hands are fisted in the bedsheets. Klaus licks his lips.
“You’re going to be wrecked by the time I’m finished with you,” he says, uncapping the lube and generously coating two fingers. He rubs them together to warm them up. “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll be ruined for every other cock but mine.” He probes at Diego’s hole with one slick finger, rubbing the pad of it around the ring of muscle until it begins to loosen. Diego’s breathing speeds up.
“How do you like it, Didi?” he asks, and Diego’s eyes fly open at the nickname. It’s something Klaus hasn’t said since they were kids. “Do you like it hard and rough? Slow and deep?” He takes one of Diego’s hands with his free one, twining their fingers together and using the leverage to lean down until they’re face to face. “Do you want me to fuck you like the whore you are? Do you want it to hurt?”
Diego nods so quickly Klaus is kind of worried he’ll get whiplash. “P-p-please,” he says, and holy shit, the stutter. Diego is gone. He doesn’t even seem to have noticed that he’s stuttering, which shows better than anything else just how lost in the pleasure he is. With a groan, Klaus shoves both fingers as deep into Diego as they’ll go.
Diego’s back arches and he gasps, his hand tightening to the point of pain around Klaus’, but Klaus doesn’t mind. God, even when it’s just his fingers, Diego feels so good—hot and tight, and Klaus’ dick twitches at the thought of pushing inside that. Soon, he tells himself, pulling his fingers out and then thrusting them back in. Very soon.
He thrusts and scissors his fingers, opening Diego up and searching for the little bundle of nerves he knows will—
“Klaus!” Diego shouts, his back arching clear off the bed.
Klaus rubs his fingertips in tight little circles against Diego’s prostate relentlessly until Diego is squirming against the bed. He untangles his hand from Diego’s to drizzle more lube over his fingers, and then he shoves a third one in and thrusts, pushing up against Diego’s prostate every time.
“Klaus, Klaus, Klaus,” Diego moans, and it’s heady, knowing that he did this—that he’s reduced Diego to a babbling, pleasure-addled mess who can only remember his name. He leans down and licks with the flat of his tongue up Diego’s cock, from base to tip. He closes his lips around the head, sucks lightly, swirls his tongue in the slit, and Diego is gone.
He comes hot and salty in Klaus’ mouth with a wordless cry, his hand buried in Klaus’ hair, his body curling in on itself slightly. Klaus swallows around him until Diego begins to squirm and hiss, and then he pulls off of Diego’s dick and pulls himself up for a kiss. Diego melts into it, his eyes half-lidded and a satisfied smile curving his kiss-swollen lips.
“Still good to be fucked?” Klaus asks. Diego damn near purrs.
“Yes, sir,” he says, and Klaus blinks, though he supposes that at this point he should really stop being surprised by the things he’s learning about Diego’s sex life.
He’s still got three fingers buried in Diego’s ass. He pulls them out carefully, then goes digging back in that drawer until he finds a condom. He rolls it onto his cock and lubes himself up generously, and can’t resist giving himself a few quick strokes, his eyes falling shut at the sensation. When he opens them, Diego is watching him, still splayed out on the bed like a porn star.
Klaus shuffles closer, shoves a pillow under Diego’s hips, lines himself up. He’d ask if Diego’s ready, but Diego’s already begun pushing his hips towards Klaus’ insistently, and besides, he said he liked it rough. Klaus pushes the tip of his cock into Diego, so slowly that sweat beads at his hairline, and once the head has breached the ring of muscle, Klaus braces himself and slams home.
They both gasp and tense. Diego is tight even with the prep, and hot and slick around Klaus’ dick. Klaus closes his eyes and leans forward to rest his forehead against Diego’s, trying not to come just yet. Diego wraps his legs around Klaus’ waist and hooks his ankles together at Klaus’ lower back. His arms come to wrap around Klaus’ shoulders.
“I’m going to move,” Klaus says, his tone brooking no argument, and he pulls almost all the way out and thrust in with a snap of his hips before Diego can so much as blink. Diego shudders. His cock lies spent and soft against his thigh, but he still pushes his hips back to meet Klaus’ thrust. He blinks, and Klaus can practically see him clawing his way from the depths of subspace.
“Fuck. Me,” he demands, and really, who is Klaus to deny him? He sets a brutal pace, thrusting as quickly and deeply as he can, making sure to brush Diego’s prostate on almost every thrust. He braces himself with one hand on Diego’s hip, holding hard enough to bruise. The other hand he twines with Diego’s again.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Klaus demands when Diego’s eyes begin to roll back in his head, and something hot and purring rushes through his veins when Diego obeys, opening his eyes with some difficulty to focus on Klaus’ face. Klaus is entranced. This close, he can see every vulnerability in Diego’s eyes, the way his irises have been nearly swallowed by the pupils.
Diego’s cock has filled again between his legs. Klaus reaches down to stroke it when he feels his own orgasm impending, building up from his toes to the tip of his head, tense and coiled like a snake about to strike.
“Come on, baby, come for me,” Klaus pants, jerking Diego off with quick, rough movements. He twists his wrist, swipes his thumb over the head, and Diego goes still, coming again with a loud cry that Klaus muffles with his own mouth. He thrusts once, twice, three times more before he’s coming, too, with a gasp that he can’t quite contain.
He collapses on top of Diego, both of them grunting at the impact. Klaus is panting, sweat cooling on his skin like he’s just run a marathon—or a mile, maybe, because Klaus doesn’t really run—but he can’t stay like this, much as he wants to. He’s been in subspace before, and he knows from experience that Diego probably won’t come back up for a little while. If Klaus wants to get clean, he’ll have to do it himself.
He pulls out of Diego with a wince, kissing Diego’s collarbone apologetically when it makes Diego whimper. The condom is tied off and tossed in the trash, and he takes advantage of the house being empty by padding to the bathroom wearing nothing but a coating of his own come over his cock.
He cleans himself off quickly, then finds a glass in the cabinet behind the mirror. It’s only questionably clean, but he fills it to the top and drains the whole thing anyway. He fills it again, and then wets a washcloth and takes both back to Diego’s bedroom.
Diego is still lying where Klaus left him, his breathing deep and even, his face relaxed in a way it so rarely is anymore. Klaus can’t help but smile. He cleans Diego off gently and doesn’t miss the way Diego squirms at the touch; not to get away, but in pleasure.
“Can you sit up for me, baby?” he asks, tossing the washcloth over his shoulder. Diego’s going to flip when he sees the mess Klaus made of his room, but hopefully he’ll be too fucked out to get truly mad.
Diego blinks up at him and slowly pulls himself into a sitting position. He drains the glass Klaus hands him and then hands it back, even though he’s closer to the bedside table. Klaus takes it with an amused smile and reaches across Diego to put it on the table, and then he shuffles under the covers and tugs Diego down with him. They lay on their sides, facing each other, and Diego burrows closer into Klaus’ chest, tucking his head underneath Klaus’ chin.
Klaus props his head up with one hand and uses the other to rub soothing circles into Diego’s back, murmuring praise and endearments quietly all the while. He isn’t sure how long Diego will be under, but he wants to be awake when Diego comes back to himself.
Diego lets out a sigh and presses a sleepy kiss to Klaus’ chest, and Klaus feels a besotted smile spread across his face.
“Not bad for a Wednesday evening,” he says to himself. His gaze roves over Diego’s form, lingering on the bites littering his neck, the way he’s tucked his hand underneath his own chin. Klaus’ voice is incredibly fond. “Not bad at all.”