Work Header


Work Text:

Yes, Klaus thinks, fucking finally.

He groans as his back hits the wall and he yanks at Diego’s shirt until he hears the sound of a tell-tale rip. Diego swears into the kiss and shoves his thigh between Klaus’ legs, lets Klaus grind against him until they’re both about to cream their jeans like a couple of teenagers. It’s been so long coming—pun intended—and Klaus can’t figure out if he wants it to last or wants to come right this second. He pulls at Diego’s shirt again until it’s in tatters and Diego has to pull back and shrug off the scraps.

“You owe me,” Diego growls. He leaves the shirt in a heap on the floor and takes Klaus by the hips. “Now, up.” His biceps flex as he lifts and Klaus lets out a giggle, wraps his arms tight around Diego’s neck and his legs around Diego’s waist. “You good?”

“Mm,” Klaus purrs. “Better than good. Hurry up, I don’t wanna stain these jeans.”

Diego snorts. “Like they aren’t already stained.” Even so, he walks with long, quick strides to his bedroom. He kicks open the door and then kicks it shut behind them. “Get naked,” he commands as he tosses Klaus none too gently onto the bed.

While Klaus scrambles to get out of his jeans and top, he watches Diego disrobe from the corner of his eye. Klaus is naked before Diego even has the first ridiculous strap of leather undone, so Klaus gestures him over. Diego staggers to him, kicking off his shoes and socks along the way.

Diego shudders when Klaus’ hands brush over his dick and juts his hips forward. “Fuck, Klaus.”

“Yeah, baby,” Klaus breathes, “let me help you.” He hurries to undo the straps and yanks Diego’s pants down his legs.

“Don’t rip them,” Diego says weakly. He’s bracing his hands on Klaus’ shoulders and shaking as inches of skin are revealed. “And, Kl-Klaus.”

Normally, Klaus wouldn’t stop—he’d listen, but he’d keep going, if it were any other partner. The stutter, though. It’s something he hasn’t heard in years and sets his heart off pounding. Klaus freezes, his hands almost cupping Diego’s ass (he can’t even make a quip about the fact that Diego isn’t wearing underwear).

“What is it?” Klaus asks softly. He’s distracted by Diego’s dick bobbing just inches away from his face.

Diego tips his head back and lets out a long sigh. Klaus moves his hands to hold Diego’s chiseled hips instead, squeezes in what he hopes is a reassuring way. Diego’s dick jumps, so Klaus thinks he’s mostly successful.

“It’s been a while,” Diego admits, looking almost bashful. Klaus decides it’s a good look on him. “So, y’know.”

“Right,” Klaus says, even though he’s not totally sure what Diego’s getting at. Diego’s cock is still hard, and Klaus is still hard, so things are still going just fine. Klaus smiles up at him, then leans forward and kisses the tip of Diego’s dick.

“Fuck!” Diego shouts. He rocks his hips forward and sends a trail of precome across Klaus’ cheek. “Oh, fuck, Klaus.”

“That’s my name, baby,” Klaus says with a smirk. He tilts his head to kiss along Diego’s cock, down to the base and the tight nest of black curls. Klaus inhales deeply, relishes the scent before pulling back and wrapping his lips around the head of Diego’s dick. He suckles at first, then slowly, inch by inch, sinks down to the root and lets his throat convulse around Diego.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Diego’s chanting, breathless and almost whiny. His hands are flexing and biting into Klaus’ shoulders, his short nails like little blades in Klaus’ skins. “Fuck, y-you gotta stop, Klaus, s’too much.”

Again, the stutter catches his ear more than anything. Slowly, Klaus pulls off with a noisy slurp. He lets the tip rest on his bottom lip, lets precome bead into his mouth and onto his tongue. Klaus winks at Diego, then finally pulls back with a swallow.

“You gonna fuck me now?” Klaus asks as he scoots back onto the bed. It’s hardly big enough for the two of them, but that sure as shit isn’t going to stop them.

Diego climbs into the bed with him and sits against the headboard. He leans over and digs around in the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube. Then, he hesitates. Klaus sits up on his knees and waits for some sort of instruction, but none is forthcoming.

“Can I sit in your lap, Diego?” Klaus asks ever so softly. He inches closer on the bed, rucking up the sheets and blankets underneath them.

“Please,” Diego replies, voice hoarse. With a shaking hand, he pats his thigh.

Klaus moves cautiously. He slides onto Diego’s lap and settles before reaching for the lube. Diego holds it just out of reach.

“D’you wanna get me open?” Klaus asks.

Diego nods, doesn’t even speak this time.

“I’d like that,” Klaus murmurs. He leans in and presses his forehead to Diego’s. “Please, Diego? Wanna feel you inside me, yeah?”

Diego presses against Klaus’ face, nuzzles a kiss to his cheek before opening the lube between them. His eyes are shut and fluttering as he dribbles lube across three fingers. His hand is still shaking as he curls his arm around Klaus.

Klaus reaches behind himself and spreads his cheeks open, giving Diego easier access. He shudders as Diego’s first finger breaches him. It sinks in down to the knuckle and when Diego pulls out, he returns with two. It’s easy, Klaus’ body can take it, craves it even. He rolls his hips as Diego starts to thrust the two fingers, crooks them just so.

“That’s it,” Klaus moans softly. “Doing so good, Diego, so good.”

Diego whimpers and hides his face against Klaus’ neck. His panting is wet and sticky against Klaus’ skin, and his cock is heavy and hard, insistent against Klaus’ thigh.

“Skip the third,” Klaus breathes, clenching around Diego’s fingers. “Wanna feel how big you are.” Klaus murmurs the words into Diego’s trimmed short hair at the same time he reaches between them and strokes Diego with a loose grip.

“F-f-fuck, Klaus,” Diego moans. His clean hand digs into Klaus’ hip.

“Do it, Diego, c’mon.” Klaus reaches back to shove at Diego’s hand and holds himself open once more. “I’m ready, I can take it.”

Diego nods nonsensically. His lubed fingers curl around the base of his cock, now gleaming with spit and lube and precome and mesmerizing to Klaus. Slowly, with the help of Diego’s guiding hand on his hip, Klaus sinks down. The tip pops in easily and Klaus lets out a breath of relief. There’s nothing quite like being filled, even when it’s just beginning. Klaus forces himself to go as slow as possible, because each inch wrings a desperate groan from Diego and it’s addictive to listen to his brother fall apart this way.

Eventually there’s nothing left, and Klaus clenches tight around Diego.

“F-fuck!” Diego half-shouts, voice wet.

That sets off alarm bells in Klaus’ head almost immediately. He rolls his hips once and gets another wet hiccup for his trouble, and freezes. “Diego?”

“Fuck,” Diego hisses again. There’s definitely something wet and cold on Klaus’ neck, and Diego’s shaking worse than before.

“Should I stop?” Klaus asks. His heart is hammering erratically in his chest as he leans back and forces Diego to look at him.

Diego won’t meet his eyes as he speaks. “N-no, please don’t, please,” Diego rambles, his hands clutching desperately at Klaus’ skin. “Don’t guh-go, this is per-per-perfect.”

Diego breathes heavily as if it was a herculean effort to get the words out; Klaus knows for him, it probably was.

“Wanna tell me what’s happening?” Klaus asks gently. He’s seen a lot in his day, spent some time doing less than legal things for quick cash. He’s had all kinds of people in his beds, but none that ever meant as much to him as Diego, none he’s ever loved so strongly. He rubs a soothing hand along the knobs of Diego’s spine, over his muscled shoulders and the tension coiled there releases sluggishly. “Talk to me, baby,” Klaus coos. Experimentally, he rolls his hips once, twice, gasping when Diego thrusts up to meet him.

“I don’t know,” Diego hisses. His eyes are shut tight; tears pool at the corners before leaking down his cheeks. “It’s a-always been this wuh-way.” He’s crying, but his tone is mostly level, weighed down a bit but not with sadness, not the sort of chest-cracking sobs that make it impossible to speak. No, the way words come out stilted and half-formed, trying so hard to be complete, is all too familiar to Klaus. He could go a hundred years without hearing Diego’s voice, but he’ll always recognize this stutter.

“It’s okay,” Klaus assures. He sets up a gentle rhythm. He wants to be nailed, wants to ache with it tomorrow, but this is good too. It’s close and intimate, wet and warm and sweet, sticking to his teeth like cotton candy. It’s not a sad thing, not a painful thing—and Klaus has had sad and painful fucks plenty of times to know the difference. This is something else entirely, new but not because it’s with someone so close to him, someone he knows so well and someone who knows him.

Diego sniffles. Slowly he sinks back; as he scoots down the bed, the blankets bunch up behind them, but he looks almost angelic on the pillow. His tears leave little darkened spots on the baby blue pillowcase.

“I won’t keep going if you don’t talk to me,” Klaus warns. It’s mostly an empty threat, Klaus wants this too much to deny it, even to himself. But it works, and Diego starts to babble again, his eyes still shut but crying all the same.

“It a-always happens, I can’t huh-help i-i-it.” He thrusts up as he speaks and it rattles his words like an earthquake to a bookshelf. “Just, f-feels so much, so good. Wanted you f-for so long, Kl-Klaus, you h-have no idea.”

Klaus wraps a hand around his own dick. He doesn’t stroke—not yet, he’d blow his load in seconds otherwise—but the heat of his hand is enough to shoot pleasure up his spine. “You always cry, baby? Just feels too fucking good, huh?”

Diego whimpers but doesn’t answer. Klaus presses a hand against Diego’s chest and leans forward until their lips can almost touch. “Answer me, Diego,” Klaus hisses.

“Yes!” Diego cries out with a grunt. “F-fuck,” he draws out the word with his wildly thrusting hips, all rhythm abandoned. “Fuh-feels perfect, Klaus, s-s-so good.”

Klaus digs his nails into Diego’s chest and swallows the answering cry with a kiss. “You’re gonna make me come, Diego,” Klaus moans. “So pretty to watch you cry for me, you’re so beautiful.”

Diego’s hips jerk hard enough that he almost bucks Klaus off his lap; it’s only his stiff grip that keeps him in place. His fingertips are pressing in hard enough to leave bruises, and Klaus looks forward to prodding them in the shower tomorrow.

Klaus kisses a stray tear running down Diego’s cheek. “Look at me, baby, please? Can you look at me?”

Diego opens his eyes, but the haze over them is thick and heavy. Klaus admires the dazed, fucked out expression, rimmed with tears and eyes red. It is a beautiful look on him, something so few people get to see. Diego’s so buttoned up for all his ridiculous leather, he hardly ever cries in everyday situations.

So here and now, it’s special, to Klaus. He kisses another tear, then the corner of Diego’s mouth.

“M’close,” Klaus says against Diego’s lips. “You?”

“Y-yeah,” Diego whispers. His voice is raw, his throat fucked from crying. Probably sore. “So cuh-cuh-close.”

“Good, want you to come inside me.” Klaus sits up again and starts to stroke his own dick in earnest. Diego’s gaze brightens enough to watch; his bottom lip quivers and it’s like the tears never end, each new wave accompanied by an almost pained whimper. Klaus’ thighs are burning and he’ll be lucky if he can walk tomorrow but Diego’s rhythm is nonexistent and he’s too pretty to scold at this point.

“Wish I could come on your pretty face while you cry,” Klaus blurts as soon as the thought hits him. It’s true and the desire burns inside him suddenly.

A moan catches in Diego’s throat, strangled and thick. His hips jerk up again and wet heat fills Klaus deep, unending. Diego pulls out and thrusts in again, again, again, coming with each pulse in his dick, pushing it deeper inside Klaus each time.

Diego’s last thrust, last spurt of come brings with it a cracked and broken cry. Diego turns and presses his face against his pillow, smearing drool and tears on the soft cotton. He can’t shut his mouth as he moans—Klaus, f-fuck, oh sh-sh-sh— and Klaus comes abruptly.

He pushes his hips forward for that last bit of friction of Diego’s softening cock inside him and his come shoots across Diego’s chiseled, tattooed stomach. Milky white spreads across sculpted divets and strikes a contrast against black ink. Diego’s still crying gently and trying to catch his breath as Klaus works the last few shocks of orgasm from his dick.

Klaus wipes his hand on Diego’s stomach. He likes the look of his brother marked up like this. Next time, he thinks, more scratches.

“Kl-Klaus?” Diego whispers after a moment.

Klaus rises on shaking legs and lets Diego’s cock slip from him with obscenely wet sound. He scoots Diego gently to one side, then falls to the other side and cuddles up against him. “I’m here,” he promises, a bit belatedly. He wraps his arms around Diego’s waist despite the mess. Klaus presses a kiss into his shoulder. “You okay?”

Diego lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Y-yeah.”

“You need anything?”

Diego shakes his head. “Tired.”

“Mm,” Klaus hums. “Me too. We can clean up tomorrow.” Already, his dick twitches with interest at the thought. “And maybe we can talk a little more about this.” He reaches up and wipes Diego’s cheeks clean.

Diego smiles, turns and kisses Klaus’ palm. “Yeah, o-okay.”

Klaus kisses just behind Diego’s ear. “Sleep, it’s okay. I’m here.”

He waits and listens for Diego’s breathing to even out, then lets the sound lull him to sleep too.