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(Hopefully Not The) Last Tango

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Vanya had never been good at small, enclosed places. She had assumed it was another one of her quirks, like every person had. There were plenty of people in the world with a dislike of tight spaces who didn't have some link to an intense childhood trauma.

Although now that Vanya knew the origins of her claustrophobia, it did make a certain kind of sense. That's what she tried to tell herself, as she made her way up in the small elevator, her heart in her throat, her whole body shaking and on edge. And it was dumb, to compare this to when she was locked in the cell. The most horrific thing about that cell had been the absolute silence. She hadn't been able to stand it, had been going crazy being cut off from everything. The elevator should have been fine— it was a noisy thing, and she could hear every creak and groan of the cables.

She was alone in the elevator, her heart beating in her ears, and she was trying to calm herself down. Since she'd gone off her medication, she was having to learn how to do that— she hadn't realized just how... regulated her emotions were under the medication. It was just her in a tiny elevator in an equally tiny apartment building, and the walls were closing in on her, and she might have been able to hear the sounds of the building around her, but her own heartbeat was louder. She couldn't breathe, and the panic was trying to claw its way up her throat like a rat in a pipe. She was gasping, and her face was wet with tears. The lights were beginning to flicker, and the terror in her stomach was getting stronger and stronger.

Vanya paced in the small space, as the elevator made its slow, shuddering way up. That didn't help— it did the opposite of help, because now she was aware of just how small the space was, and that wasn't helping, that wasn't helping her at all, none of it was helping, she was going to be trapped in this elevator forever, she was going to be trapped inside this tiny space, she was going to be—

The elevator dinged, and Vanya nearly jumped out of her skin. The door slowly slid open, and Vanya stumbled out, bent nearly double and panting, her hands on her face. She was shaking so hard that she was faintly afraid that she would throw up, and it took her a moment to realize that her powers were making all of the picture frames in the hallway rattle. So maybe she was a bit more claustrophobic than she thought she was. She could deal with this. She'd face her fears— she'd never been one to just run away from her problems. She just needed to... hm.

* * *

"Klaus?" Vanya made her way into the big great room, where Klaus was sprawled out on one of the couches like something out of a certain class of painting, smoking a cigarette and reading a paperback book.

"Vanya, one of my two favorite sisters!" Klaus looked at her sidelong, leaving the book face down on his chest. She tried not to wince— she always hated leaving books like that.

"Hi," said Vanya, and she cleared her throat, rubbing her hands together and perching on a nearby armchair.

"What's up?" Klaus wriggled himself into something like upright, his back supported by the arm of the couch.

"Can I ask you an awkward question?" Vanya tried not to stare at Klaus's bare leg— he was wearing a skirt, and it had puddled between his spread legs. One foot was on the floor, and one leg was draped over the back of the couch. He looked... lewd, but also obscenely comfortable.

"Depends what kind of awkward," said Klaus.

"What kinds of awkward are there?" Vanya rubbed the back of her neck, and took some comfort in the thud of her heart, in the whoosh of Klaus's blood through his veins, the various noises of the house around them.

"Well, there's the ‘Klaus, what did you do with my money’ chestnut, which has, admittedly, died down since I went sober," said Klaus. "There's also questions about why I dress the way I dress and ‘if you're a guy why wear women's clothes’—"

"I'd be the last one to judge you on that kind of thing," Vanya interrupted, and then she blushed, because she didn't usually interrupt. She'd gotten more impulsive since she'd gone off the meds as well, and seemed to be developing some bad habits. At least Klaus didn't look too upset.

"So," said Klaus, "what kind of awkward question are you asking me?"

"One related to childhood trauma," said Vanya. "If that's not too off limits," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Klaus snorted. "It was your traumatic childhood too, y'know," he said. "So it's not like I can tell you that it's none of your business."

"You totally could," said Vanya. "Since our childhoods were still so... different."

Klaus shrugged. "Our shitty childhoods are at least adjacent to each other," he said. "We there should be some degree of relatability."

Vanya swallowed, tried to figure out how to word her question right. Then she just plunged forward. "Are you afraid of the dark? Still, I mean."

Klaus shrugged. "It comes and goes," he said. "Mostly goes these days, apart from a few bad nights."

"How did you get rid of it?" Vanya twisted her fingers together tried not to rock in her chair. She and Klaus had never been close, but he had wanted to take her out of that cell, and Dad had locked him up too. If anyone would understand, it would be him.

"Mostly by being high all the time," said Klaus.

That startled a laugh out of Vanya. "I don't think that's an option for me," she said. "I, uh… that wouldn't be workable."

"Do you have some newfound fear of the dark all of a sudden?" Klaus wriggled to get more comfortable, and the skirt rode up some more, revealing more leg.

"I…" Vanya cleared her throat. Old instincts fought against her current mindset. If you tell him he'll make fun of you versus if you don't open up he won't be able to help you. "I've gotten claustrophobic. Or… I've always been claustrophobic, but I've gotten more claustrophobic." She was staring down at her hands, but now talk was just pouring out of her. "I've always hated, y'know, enclosed spaces, but it's gotten bad since…"

"Since our dear Number One shoved you in a soundproof cell," Klaus supplied. His cigarette was nearly burned down to the filter, and he dropped it into the saucer he had been using as an ashtray. "Yeah, that would do it." He sat up fully, his feet on the floor, and he rubbed his hands together. "You could try to build up positive associations with tight spaces," he suggested.

"Positive associations," Vanya echoed.

"You know," Klaus said. "Eat your favorite food while standing in a closet, jerk off under your bed, something like that."

"Oh," said Vanya, and then she cleared her throat. She was blushing hard enough that she was faintly amazed her face wasn't setting her hair on fire. "I, uh, I may try that."

"It worked for me," Klaus said, and then he shot her a look she couldn't entirely read. "Thanks for coming to me about this," he said.

"Why wouldn't I come to you about this?" She frowned, puzzled.

Klaus shrugged. "I… like feeling useful," he said, and then he cleared his throat, clearly still embarrassed. "I know that everyone thinks of me as the family fuck up, so… it's nice to be asked for advice."

You're not the family fuck up was on the tip of Vanya's tongue, and she bit it back. He had been, and now he wasn't. "I'm the family traitor," she said instead, "if that helps any."

He grinned at her. "Surprisingly, yes," he said. "So… go eat chocolate in the closet." Then his grin got wider, took on an almost Cheshire quality. "Of course, as far as I know you came out of the closet years—"

"I'm ignoring you," Vanya said, but she was grinning as she said it. She stood up, and she walked up to him, uncertain of what she was doing but feeling like she needed to do… something. She stooped down and pressed an awkward kiss to the top of Klaus's head.

Klaus took her hand in his and kissed the palm. "You're just ignoring me because you know I'm right," he said, and Vanya tried to concentrate on his words, and not the way her heart beat a little faster when his lips pressed against her skin.

* * *

Vanya stood in her hallway with her favorite vibrator, and she tried not to feel too silly. She was going to stand in her coat closet and make herself come— she’d never been able to come standing up, but she could try, right? She could sit amongst her boots in the looming darkness and she’d be absolutely fine. It would all be fine.

It was her closet— she’d been in it before, grabbing this or that. And okay, it had never been particularly… comfortable, but it was just a closet. She wasn’t afraid of a closet. How could she be afraid of a closet?

She stared at the open door, and maybe her imagination was being overactive, but it almost looked like a mouth. Which was ridiculous. She hadn’t been scared of it when she hung her coat in it the day before, so why would she be scared of it now? Taking a deep breath and clutching her vibrator a little tighter, she stepped inside.

* * *

Vanya lasted five minutes in the coat closet. She didn't even manage to turn the vibrator on. She stood in the closeness, her knuckles creaking on the handle of it. She was shaking so hard that the coat hangers were rattling, and her chest was heaving. She was crying, and she forced the door open, sprawling out on the floor of her hallway and panting like she had been running a race.

"This is stupid," Vanya said in her open apartment. "I'll be fine. I don't need to do... any of this. I'll be fine. I can take the stairs." She was aware, even as she said it, that she was being ridiculous, but she needed to do something to calm the panic, before she splintered every stick of furniture in the place, and broke all of the glass.

Now if only she could stop shaking.

* * *

"I'll take the stairs," Vanya said, two months later, her violin tight along her back. She shifted from foot to foot, as her coworkers all seemed to shrug. They were six stories up, and going down the stairs with a violin strapped to her back was... unpleasant, but it was better than the alternative.

"You know," a familiar voice said, "I thought you were working to get over the whole claustrophobia thing."

Vanya put a hand over her heart, and she turned around, her eyes wide. "Klaus?" What was he doing here?

Klaus, looking scruffily resplendent in his leather pants and furry coat, smiled at her toothily. "You invited me to your practices," he reminded her, "and I was in the area, so I thought I'd poke my head in."

"Oh," said Vanya, and she cleared her throat. "You, uh, you didn't say anything, and I didn't see you." She was blushing, and she wasn't sure why.

"Well," said Klaus, and he spread his hands out in front of him, "I thought I'd drop in, see how one of my favorite sisters was doing."

"One of your favorite sisters," Vanya said, her voice dry. She was trying not to grin in spite of herself— Klaus was charming, when he wanted to be. He evidently wanted to be right now.

"Well," said Klaus, and he linked arms with her, "I can't exactly say you're my favorite, can I? That wouldn't be fair to Allison!"

"We wouldn't want to be unfair to Allison," Vanya agreed, nodding in what she thought was a gracious manner.

"But you're still claustrophobic?" Klaus leaned into her, and she was surrounded by the scent of cigarettes and some kind of deep, musky perfume.

"I mean," Vanya said, and she cleared her throat, not sure why she was so embarrassed but feeling it intensely. "I, uh... I tried what you suggested."

"What, chocolate and closets?"

"No, the other one." Why was she telling him this?

"Oh, the ol' wank in a closet?" She didn't have to look at his face to know that he was smirking, and she kept her eyes on her feet.

"Didn't work," she said.

"Why, didn't use the right vibrator?"

"Klaus, we are at my workplace," Vanya hissed, her eyes darting around. The hallway they were in was empty, but... still.

"What didn't work?" His hand went to hers, and he intertwined their fingers. They were holding hands like... well, like lovers, not like brother and sister.

"I just got too... panicky," Vanya said, and she cleared her throat. "I was freaking out enough that I just opened the door and... y'know, cried. A lot."

"I see," said Klaus, and he nodded sagely, as if he had all the answers. "Well, I know how to fix that."

"Do you?" She watched as he leaned over, pressed the button on the elevator.

"You need to not be able to unlock the door, first and foremost," said Klaus. “Maybe losing some control might help.” His face went somber. “I know that helped with my sobriety, the first few times I tried it.”

"I can't be locked into a cell by myself again," she said. The idea was enough to make her stomach try to escape up through her throat. She might throw up, if she wasn't careful.

"You won't be by yourself," said Klaus, and he smiled at her. There was warmth shining through his eyes, and that was enough to make her stomach twist in new, interesting ways. It was interesting, seeing him sober like this. Seeing him more focused, in a way that she hadn't expected.

"So what, you'll lock the both of us in a cell together?" She squeezed his fingers, and he squeezed hers back. She could hear his heart beating, his stomach digesting whatever it was that he'd eaten, the quiet clicks of his joints moving against each other. Human beings were surprisingly noisy, once you realized how to listen.

"I was thinking I'd get Mom to lock us in for a given amount of time," said Klaus. "See if you'll do okay with some company, go from there."

"Oh," said Vanya. The bell on the elevator dinged, and she jumped. The doors creaked as they opened, and Vanya shivered, staring into it. "I don't... I don't know if I can do this," she said quietly.

He squeezed her fingers again. "Practice run?" He suggested. "Maybe just to the fourth floor?"

"I... can try it," she said. They were on the sixth floor. That would just be two floors. Two floors wouldn't be too bad, right? She could handle it. She stepped in, holding on to Klaus's hand even tighter, and she tried not to start shaking as the elevator doors shut. She was beginning to pant, and she wanted to... stop. She wanted to be okay. She wanted to not embarrass herself in front of Klaus, and there was something especially ridiculous about that. Or maybe she was just being judgmental, because—

"Vanya," Klaus said sharply and Vanya jolted back to herself.

"Yes?" She blinked at him, as her heart hammered in her chest.

"We're on the ground floor," he said.

"Oh," she said. She realized, belatedly, that she had been squeezing his hand hard enough to leave fingernail marks. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, and he let go of her hand. "Come on. I'll buy you lunch."

Vanya was a bit too woozy to do much more than nod. She probably should have objected— she was the one with the job, after all— but now his arm was around her shoulders, and it was grounding. It helped remind her that she wasn't in some soundproof cell underground anymore, and she wasn't being abandoned.

* * *

"Thanks again for this, Mom," said Klaus, as he and Vanya stood with her in the small elevator, going down into the basement. "I didn't even know we had so many padded cells."

"Your father was prepared for every eventuality," said Grace, and she was smiling. "So you want me to lock you in for…"

"Thirty minutes," said Klaus. "Right, Vanya?"

Vanya nodded, licking her lips. This was a horrible idea. The memory of the cell— the first time as a little kid, the second time as a blood stained adult— beat through her like a second heartbeat, and she was holding on to Klaus's hand so tightly that her hands were starting to hurt. “Right,” Vanya said, and her voice cracked.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright, dear?” Grace tucked a piece of hair behind Vanya’s ear, and Vanya leaned into it, and she sighed.

“I’ll be okay,” Vanya said. “I’m sorry,” she said, quieter.

“Why?” Grace’s expression didn’t change, but her tone did. Not by much, admittedly, but Vanya was getting better at reading Grace’s emotions, such as they were.

"For... freaking out, over something that I asked you to do, specifically," said Vanya, and she sighed, rubbing at her face. "I'm sorry. I'm overthinking this."

"Babe," said Klaus, and his hand was on the back of her neck now, "stop apologizing."

She stiffened, because she'd had a conversation like this with Leonard (with Harold?) and now she was thinking about him and she was about to go into the cell and—

"Vanya," said Klaus.

"Hm?" Vanya snapped out of her trance. It was dim down here. They had quite a lot of padded rooms and cells scattered around underground, like the roots of some great tree. The whole mansion had more secrets than Vanya could even begin to comprehend, and she wasn't sure if she was comforted or frightened by the idea.

"You're making the foundations shake," Klaus said, and indeed, there was dust pattering down on their heads.

"Oh," said Vanya, and she shook her head, getting some hold of her power and soothing it. She could hear the soothing tick and whir of Grace's internal mechanisms, the familiar whoosh of Klaus's blood, the thud of his heart. She focused on those sounds, and not the desperate throbbing of her own heart.

"I'll lock you in for half an hour," said Grace. "And then I'll come back."

"And you're sure you'll be able to keep track of how long?" Vanya was clutching at the sleeve of Klaus's furry jacket. She could feel the joints in her fingers protest, but she didn't really care. The idea of going into that cell was enough to make her want to die.

"I'm setting an alarm right now," said Grace, and her eyes lit up for a moment, the way they always did when she was doing something especially mechanical. It used to give Vanya the creeps, when they were kids— she had wanted a real mother, and real mothers didn't do those sorts of things. Now that she was an adult, she found it oddly comforting— more reminders that Grace was her mother.

"We'll be fine," Klaus promised Vanya, as he gently led her towards the cell. "Snug as a bug in a rug."

"I don't want to be a bug," Vanya said. She was holding on tighter to Klaus, and she was holding on to her powers by the skin of her teeth. She was beginning to shake, and she didn't seem able to stop.

"What's another snug thing?" Klaus moved to wrap his arm around her, pulling her against his long, lean body. They were at the threshold of the cell now. It didn't even have lights— they'd be alone in the dark. She had requested that— maybe it would be less terrifying, if she couldn't see the walls looming over her?

"I don't know," Vanya said quietly. She clutched at him, and then she turned around, so that she was looking out the door. Grace was standing there, just looking at Vanya. She smiled at Vanya, and Vanya smiled back, albeit shakily.

"You're going to do great," Grace promised Vanya. "I'm going to close the door now."

"What do I need to do if I need to get out?" Vanya crossed her arms across her chest, holding on to herself tightly.

"Don't worry about that," said Klaus. "I've got us covered."

"Right," said Vanya, and she nodded. "Right. Okay."

"You'll be fine," Grace said. "And when we're done, we can all have some cake."

"Cake?" A little crack of... something broke through the terror that was leaving Vanya's whole mind gibbering.

"Cake," Grace agreed, and then the door to the cell was creaking shut, and Vanya and Klaus were alone in the dark cell.

Vanya watched Grace walk off down the long corridor, and she tried to swallow down the panic that was rising up inside of her like sewage in a blocked pipe.

"Hey," Klaus said, and his arms were wrapping around her, his hands over hers, where hers were resting on her sides. "Hey, it's okay." He surrounded her, pressed into her back. His scent, of cigarettes and perfume and soap, washed over her like a wave, and she sighed, leaning heavily into him. His cold, pointy nose was pressing into her temple, and he was rocking her.

"I can't breathe," she gasped, as the room began to close in on her. The lack of light seemed to make it worse— she couldn't see where any of the walls were, she couldn't feel them, she just knew they were there, they were going to start closing in on them. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't—"

Klaus turned her around and kissed her. He put his big hands on her face, and he was wearing metal rings, which were cold against her cheeks. His tongue was swiping at her lips, and she opened her mouth without thinking, letting his tongue in. His mouth tasted like cigarettes and like the coffee he’d been drinking, and it tasted like himself. She sighed, and she clutched at his coat, concentrating on the wet sounds of his mouth and the thud of his heart. She kissed him and tried to shove her panic into the kiss.

The hinges in the door were vibrating.

“Vanya,” Klaus said, and he was sing-songing. “Vanya, Vanya, sh, it’s okay. It’s just me. It’s just the walls. They’re not doing anything. We’re safe. Mom is gonna come and get us out.” His thumb collected her tears— when had she started crying?— and then he was tasting them, and he was kissing her again. His tongue in her mouth, hot as a brand, and she clutched at him harder.

“Why is this… Klaus, I shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t—” She was cut off by his lips again, his tongue, his hot breath washing over her face, his facial hair bristly. She didn’t want him to stop— because he was distracting her, because he was hot and familiar, because she loved him and he loved her and she clung to that like a lifejacket.

“Do you not want me to?” He pulled back, and she already missed his body heat against hers, already missed the rush of his breath against her lips.

“No, no, I… I want, I want,” she said. “I want… this. It just… it feels… it feels weird.”

“Why, because you’re my sister?” His fingers were in her ponytail, tugging the hair tie down and off, and her hair pattered around her face, sticking to her damp cheeks, forming a curtain around the two of their faces as he leaned in again. “That boat has sailed, Vanya. What with Allison and Luther doing the horizontal tango—”

“Horizontal tango?” Vanya laughed, and it was an awkward, watery laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“The tango is supposed to be all about sex,” said Klaus. “Just, y’know, fully clothed, And usually there’s music involved. Music, like, to the beat and not just music that’s in the background while fucking.” His hands were still on her face, and his forehead was against hers. “Have you ever played a tango?”

“I’ve played a tango,” Vanya said. “I’ve never danced a tango.” The filter between her brain and her mouth seemed to be loose. “I thought tangos were all about sex.” It was faintly surreal to talk about sex with Klaus, to talk about sex with Klaus when she could feel his erection pressing into her thigh, and her own heart was beating in her ears.

“Everything is about sex, if you look at it right,” said Klaus. “If you get through this without bringing the house down on our heads, I’ll dance a tango with you.” His hands were moving down, to rub her back through her shirt, cupping her shoulder blades.

“Why’d you get in here with me, if you thought I’d bring the house down?” Vanya leaned back against the wall, and found it padded. She sighed, and she was shaking harder. The padding was different from the soundproof foam, but it still set up another cascade of memories, and then she was being kissed again, Klaus all around her.

Klaus’s bony chest pressed into her own, and Klaus was pressing her into the wall, surrounding her more than the walls, looming over her, but it was safer. She held on tightly to his coat, then slid her hands under it, to clutch at his back, and his loose shirt. He was kissing along her neck now, and when she kept her eyes shut, the sensation of him filled her up. She could smell him, taste his cigarettes on the edge of her senses, and he seemed to be losing himself in her, as he held her tighter.

“Klaus?” She couldn’t see much, through the dimness. The only light was slinking in from under the door, and the terror was beginning to creep around the edges of her mind like shadows.

“Mmm?” He kissed up along her neck, and now one of his hands was going to the buttons of her shirt, his hand splayed out over her collarbone, dipping into the hollow of it.

“Klaus, why’d you… why’d you agree to do this with me, if you were worried about… about me bringing the house down?” He had found the delicate, sensitive spot behind her ear, and then his tongue was tracing over the shell of her ear, and the sound of his breath in her ear was almost too loud to bear.

“Because,” said Klaus, and his voice vibrated through his chest, buzzing over Vanya’s skin, “I know you wouldn’t. And if you did, you wouldn’t have to see what a shitty dancer I am. So win-win, really.”

Another awkward watery laugh, and then his mouth was on her earlobe, and she moaned, arching her back. It was hard to remember that the walls were going to smother her, when Klaus’s hand was sliding under her shirt, to pinch and roll her nipple through her undershirt. “You’re so weird,” she said, breathless.

“You’re the one who agreed to be locked in a room with me,” Klaus pointed out, and Vanya gave another desperate little gasp. She was starting to shake again, and Klaus made a soothing noise, and shifted his position. His hips were pressed into hers now, and her face was in his chest. She was surrounded by him, and she held on to his shirt so tightly it wrinkled, then slid under the shirt, to rub his sweaty back.

“I’m sorry,” Vanya said, and her voice was shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m s-s-sorry, I’m—”

“Vanya,” Klaus said, and his hands were going to her hips, “Vanya, listen to me, Vanya, we’re safe. We’re both safe. The house is old and it’ll take an act of God to bring the walls down on us.”

“I made them come down,” Vanya whispered. “In the other world, I mean. Other dimension? Other timeline?” His heart was beating in time with hers, and it was loud, and the loudness of it seemed to fill her head. His hands were on her breasts, and every time she got too lost in the sound of his heart or the acrid taste of her own terror, he’d pinch her breast or twist her nipple or kiss along her neck. The terror seemed to be mixing with the arousal, and she wasn’t sure what was what.

“Well,” said Klaus, “you won’t.” He began to unbutton her shirt all the way down to her navel, and then he was pushing her undershirt up, and he had her breasts in his hands. “God, Vanya, your tits...”

“What… about them?” She was concentrating on her breathing, sweat dripping down her back. She was still in a cell, but it was getting harder and harder to care about that.

“They’re fucking perfect,” Klaus said, and he pinched her nipples again, harder this time. She hissed, and her hands were in his hair. “God, Vanya. Look at you.”

“It’s too dark to see,” said Vanya, which was a dumb thing to say, but he was snickering into her neck, then into her breasts. His mouth was hot and wet on her nipple, and she sobbed. “Klaus, Klaus, you’re… Klaus…”

“I am Klaus,” said Klaus, when he’d come off of her nipple with a pop. “That is a thing I am.”

“Oh my god,” Vanya mumbled, and she was still giggling, her fingers on her own face, then in her own hair, twisting it around and around her fingers.

“I’m not anybody’s god, as far as I know,” said Klaus, then; “can I eat you out?”

“Um,” said Vanya. “Sure?” She made a surprised noise, when Klaus got on his knees, and she put her hands flat on top of his head. She wasn’t sure how she felt, being exposed like this, but Klaus was kissing underneath her navel, and she was shivering.

Klaus unbuttoned her pants a lot better than she would have in the dark. He pulled her pants down around her thighs, and he took her boxers with it. Then he was pressing his face forward, kissing along the insides of her thighs. He pressed her legs open, and then his tongue was on her clit.

Vanya gasped, and her head hit the padding as she arched her back. Klaus’s hands were between her ass and the padding of the cell, and he was holding her in place. He was lapping along her slit, and his mouth was making wet noises. She tried to concentrate on those, on his heart beating, on his lungs, his blood moving through his body. She moaned and took the pleasure he was giving to her, even as she missed the long, skinny bulk of him against her own frame. She covered her mouth, because she hated the way her voice echoed on the cell, but her whimpers still managed to flood Vanya’s ears. His tongue was rubbing her right in the good spot on her clit, and her whole body was on edge.

Klaus pulled back, and he sucked on her labia, then moved forward again, pressing his whole face into her vulva. His nose was against her clit, and his tongue was sliding inside of her, fucking her. Then he was sucking on her clit all over again, and she sobbed, then gasped. His tongue was flickering over her clit, and she arched against him, making embarrassing noises. It was… it was so much, and it was making her legs shake.

The anxiety was beginning to overtake the pleasure, even as Klaus kept moaning into her pussy, slurping and lapping. It was… it was a lot. It was all a lot, and she was crying. She was crying, and the whole room was starting to vibrate like a plucked violin string. Even Klaus seemed to notice, because he pulled back, and he pressed a kiss to her belly. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, sh…”

“It’s… too…” Vanya tried to stutter out, and then he was standing up again, pressing into her all over again. He kissed her, and his mouth tasted like him, like her. It was hot and musty, and the space was already too close, but it seemed safer pressed up against his body.

His heart was beating against her breast, and she pressed her hand flat against it, taking comfort in the sound. He nuzzled into her neck, and he still smelled like her cunt. “You’re fucking amazing,” he said, right in her ear, and she listened to the sounds of his body, as he ran his hands up and down her sides.

“I want you… I want you inside of me,” Vanya said, and her voice was rough. “Please?”

“If you’re sure,” said Klaus. “Are you, uh, do you have a rubber?”

“I’m on the pill,” she said, and her trembling hands went to his waist, pressing down on his cock through the leather of his pants. She liked the way his hips rolled forward, pressing her deeper into the wall. “Please, Klaus, I need…”

“What do you need, baby?” Klaus’s mouth was on hers again, his nose against her nose. They were kissing, and her fingers were fumbling with the laces of his pants. His hands covered her hands, and the leather was being pushed down. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his cock was sticky against her hand. She let him help her wriggle out of her own clothes as well, until her boxers and her jeans were shoved down one leg, but left the other free.

“I need to… not hear the house moving,” Vanya mumbled. She could hear all of the weird little house noises, above the noises of her own body, Klaus’s body. She was up on her tiptoes, and he was crouching down awkwardly.

“If I throw my back out doing this—”Klaus began.

“I know,” she said. “You’ll be mad at me.” She spread her legs a little wider, and Klaus’s shaft rubbed against the line of her slit.

“I was gonna say it’d be totally worth it,” said Klaus, and the head of his cock was rubbing against her clit. “God, you’re so wet, Vanya.”

“I mean, you were eating me out,” Vanya murmured, and she gasped, as her feet left the floor, and Klaus’s cock slid into her, smooth as a whisper. She clenched around him, and she sobbed, her fingernails digging into his back. He was still wearing his coat, and he was sweating under it. The air of the cell was hot, but it didn’t feel quite so enclosed.

She didn’t particularly care about the fact that she was in the cell, because Klaus was rubbing her clit with one thumb while he thrust into her at an awkward angle, panting into her face. The fur of his coat was soft against her nipples, and his thumb was steady on her clit, his cock driving into her. Each thrust seemed to make her breasts jiggle, and her heels dug into his back.

“Fuck, Vanya,” Klaus gasped into her hair. “Vanya, you’re… so hot, fuck, yes, you’re like velvet inside.”

“Velvet,” Vanya said. “I think I only go… one way.” It had made sense in her head, but Klaus actually paused, and even in the dimness, she could tell he was giving her a funny look. His cock flexed inside of her.

“What?” He gave another thrust, and her head hit more padding. Thank god for the padding, she thought, and that was unexpected. Who even knew that she’d be grateful for that?

“Velvet,” Vanya mumbled, “It… when you rub it the wrong way… it, y’know… it…” She groaned, as Klaus’s thumb did something clever, and his other hand clutched her hip a little tighter. “It does the thing.”

“The thing,” Klaus echoed, and he gave another hard thrust. “Fuck, Vanya, I’m not gonna last. You’re so tight inside, it’s scalding, it’s perfect.”

“I bet you say that to all the sisters you’ve fucked,” Vanya mumbled, and Klaus snickered, swiveling his hips and forcing her hard into the wall. He rubbed her clit a little faster, a little harder. Her cunt clenched down on him, and he groaned like he was in pain.

“You’re...not the first s-s-sister I’ve fucked,” Klaus mumbled. “First one of my sisters, I’ll give you that. God, Vanya.” He found the sweet spot on her clit, the one that made her legs tense and her hips jerk, and he rubbed it again, as she wailed into his shoulder.

“You’re the worst,” Vanya said .”Worst, worst, woooorst!” She was going to come. She was going to come, locked in a cell with her brother, she was going to come in this tight, dark space, and she didn’t care, she was going to come, she held on to her power and let the sensation of it boiling along her nerves send her over the edge. She came on his cock, her cunt spasming and twitching around him, and the pleasure left her limp, as he pounded into her. It ran up and down her nerves, and it left her trembling. It pulsed through her like a metronome, and she wanted to drown in it, as it seemed to keep happening, wave after wave. At some point, he came inside of her, his cock pulsing, filling her with heat that was already beginning to drip down her thighs. She let him nuzzle her cheek, and she sighed, her grip finally loosening on his shirt.

“Klaus,” she murmured. “Fuck.” She was shaking as he carefully lowered her down onto the floor, wrapping around her. Her cunt was throbbing, oversensitive, but she wasn’t thinking of how small the room was, or the way the walls loomed. She pressed her face into Klaus’s chest, and she let him rub her back.

“So,” he said, as their breath filled the small space, “I think that our… whatever the opposite of aversion therapy is had some kind of positive impact. Judging by al the goo leaking onto my pants.” He nuzzled into her temple, kissed it.

She took a deep breath, and she was shaking, but at least she still hadn’t brought the house down, right? “You’re going to take me tangoing?”

“I’m going to take you tangoing, and you’re going to wish you brought the house down on our heads,” Klaus murmured, and he cuddled her close. “C’mon. We’ve got, like, five minutes until Mom comes to check on us.”

As the afterglow began to retreat, the terror crept in on its heels. Vanya snuggled closer to him, her face in his furry coat, and she took in the scent of it, of him. She let herself imagine she was in some vast, empty space, and not trapped under the mansion. She closed her eyes, and she kept her ear to his against his chest, to listen to his heart. She fancied the beat reminded her of a tango— she took some comfort in that, as she waited for the panic to ebb away.