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All Kinked Up and High Strung

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This is the fourth grunt of discomfort in the past 15 minutes, and it’s distracting Klaus from his book. He looks over and sees Diego wincing and rubbing his neck as he pores over the crime blotter in today’s paper, undoubtedly scanning for whatever grand-scale crisis that he single-handedly managed to avert the night before.

Klaus kicks his feet up onto the chair beside him and goes back to his reading. Things are just getting exciting when Diego lets out a groan and a half that’s just loud enough to be annoying.

Hell. Klaus slams his book shut and rests his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands. “For the love of god, what is it? Hmm? What tragedy has befallen you, that you cannot suffer in silence like the rest of us?”

Diego stares at him like he’s grown another head. “What?”

“The noises, Diego. The noises. You keep letting out these awful, pained noises, and your lamentations are preventing me from reading about this dreadfully dysfunctional family and the inter-dimensional hell people they keep summoning.” Klaus holds up his well-worn copy of The Hellbound Heart.

“Wow, that sounds like a real problem for you. Wouldn’t it be something if you could, I don’t know, go read that shit somewhere else,” snaps Diego, but his words lose their edge as he lets out a sharp gasp. His hand flies up to his neck.

“Jesus. Did you sprain your neck doing the whole knife-Batman thing or something?”

Diego scoffs. “Something like that.”

“Let’s have a look.” Klaus strides over to where Diego is sitting and bats his hand away from the offending area. When he gently presses his thumb there, it barely yields. “Damn, you’ve got a hell of a knot here.”

“What do you know about it?”

Klaus snorts and pushes the knuckle of his forefinger into the knot and rubs it in a hard, tight circle.

Diego leans his head forward and lets out a sigh of relief that probably shouldn’t affect Klaus in the way that it does. “Can you just…you know. Since you’re already back there.”

“Fine.” Klaus splays his fingers across Diego’s broad shoulders and tries not to swallow audibly. He pushes his thumbs into muscles wound tighter than Dad’s arbitrary but rigid moral code. Best not to think of Dad now, probably. Or maybe it’s a good distraction for the very unbrotherly feelings swirling about in Klaus’ brain. “How’s that?”

“Better, actually.” Diego slumps forward a little more, and they both grimace at the sound of something cracking.

“Come on. Let’s go to my room. I’ll un-knot the shit out of you,” says Klaus. Diego looks at him like he’s touched, so Klaus huffs and throws his hands up. “Or not, I don’t give a shit if you’re all kinked up and high strung, but you can’t keep groaning like a drama queen every time your neck aches.”

“What if you make it worse?” Diego asks, but he’s already on his feet and meandering towards the stairs.

“As always, your confidence in me is inspiring.” Klaus follows him down and guides him towards his bedroom. “But just for your information, in rehab, I made best friends with a ridiculous physical therapist. Like, ridiculous. She knew exactly what the fuck she was doing. She worked some crazy knots out of my back that were there since I was, like, five, if not younger.” He sighs fondly. “I miss Emily.”

Diego gives him a look that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Sounds like you and Emily were pretty tight.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, she was my best friend at rehab, so. Yeah.”

“‘Best friend,’ huh?”

“Okay, best friend with benefits, sometimes, maybe, but it was only because she was so damn good at massages. It was, like, impossible not to melt under her hands.” Diego’s eyebrow shoots up and his nostrils flare, and Klaus chooses not to acknowledge that. Instead, he turns away. “Come on, I promise I won’t realign your spine or anything.”

“Whatever you say,” says Diego, and it’s a tad more acerbic than Klaus would usually care for, but he’s already pulling his thick black turtleneck overhead.

Klaus almost comments on his presumptuousness, but he doesn’t, because Diego’s shirtless now, and there are air horns and sirens blaring in his brain because dear fucking Christ, his body. He’s pure muscle and gorgeous brown skin, flawless save for the scars--which are badass as hell, for the record. There is also a handful of wicked, purpling bruises on his side and back, probably from the same evening adventures that fucked up his neck. His gold nipple ring glints in the afternoon sunlight, and Klaus wonders how awesome it would be, on a scale from amazing to soul-crushingly amazing, to suck it into his mouth and tug on it with his teeth.

“So, uh..?”

Fucker! Klaus is definitely staring, and Diego is looking at him like he knows that he’s staring, so Klaus clears his throat and gestures to the bed. “Alright, good job. Now, lie on your stomach.”

Diego pillows his forearms beneath his forehead and mumbles something into his skin as Klaus grabs his trusty bottle of cocoa butter lotion. He sits beside Diego, trying awkwardly to get into a good position to rub his back without climbing onto him. “What was that?”

Diego turns his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Ohmigod, please shut the fuck up. No one’s forcing you to stay for this mind-blowing, physical therapy-quality massage if you don’t want to.” Diego says nothing. Good. After a few more moments of fruitless maneuvering on the tiny bed, Klaus can’t seem to get comfortable. Fuck it. He swings his leg over Diego and straddles his hips before squirting a healthy amount of lotion into his palms. See, this is why skirts are always better than pants. This would be so much more difficult in pants, and for what?

Diego grumbles into his arms some more as Klaus warms the lotion between his hands and tries to ignore the way Diego’s back muscles ripple as he shifts beneath him.

Okay, this is it. You’re just gonna rub these knots out of Diego’s back, and your reward will be him shutting the hell up about his stupid fucking stiff neck, says the little coach who appears in Klaus’ brain whenever his anxiety kicks in. Why is he nervous about touching Diego? He’s just his dumb brother. It shouldn’t matter that he’s devastatingly attractive, and prostrate beneath Klaus, totally willing, pliant, and half naked. It’s Diego. Dumb, boring, shoot first, ask questions later, self-righteous Diego.

Gorgeous, stacked, caring, “I inadvertently helped you discover that you liked guys by being so goddamn hot all the time, Klaus, but don’t tell anyone, especially not me” Diego, who he trusts more than anyone in the world.

Klaus swallows and wills away his intrusive thoughts. Now is not the time. He rubs his hands together once more, then lays them gently against Diego’s skin.

Diego tenses, gasps, and shivers like he’s been burned.

“What?” Klaus asks, mildly panicked, jerking his hands back. “Too cold?”

Diego relaxes slightly and shakes his head. “Just wasn’t expecting it, ‘s’all. It’s okay. Keep g-going.”

Heart pounding, Klaus makes careful contact with Diego’s shoulders and presses just so, trying to acclimate Diego to their presence. “Alright” he says, voice low. “I’m just gonna start up here, okay? If anything feels bad, just let me know, and I’ll stop. Okay?”

Diego nods and lets out a long exhale through his nose. Klaus pushes the heels of his hands into Diego’s shoulder blades experimentally. When he’s met with no resistance, he digs a little deeper, putting more weight into his right hand as he works out a little knot.

It finally yields with a satisfying crack, and Diego lets out a hum of approval. “Nice,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?” Klaus grins, thoroughly pleased with himself. Looks like he retained quite a bit of Emily’s skills. He should really thank her at some point. “Maybe I should become a masseur, dedicate my life to the healing of human bodies.”

“Maybe you should,” replies Diego, but “should” comes out as a breathy gasp as Klaus digs his fingers into his upper shoulders.

“Jesus, you’re so tight up here.” Klaus frowns and squeezes the flesh on either side of Diego’s neck with one hand, rubbing slowly, feeling the tough muscle ebb beneath his fingers. “No wonder you’re so fucking high strung.”

“I’m not high stru—uhhhhh, fuck, Klaus.” Diego shudders, and the way he groans his name reminds Klaus a little too much of another thing they could be doing together in this bed. He is now acutely aware of the fact that he’d best sit back a bit to distance his very sensitive, very interested prick from Diego’s very firm rear. He’s not been with anyone in a while, you see, so all of this vocal approval and warm skin and sobriety is really fucking with him.

Klaus swipes his hands down Diego’s sides, maybe a little appreciatively (so what?), and begins dutifully kneading his lower back.

Diego sighs and moves beneath Klaus. Initially, Klaus thinks he’s just adjusting himself, getting used to his newly loosened back muscles, but he shifts again, and Klaus’ fingers freeze. Diego is moving his hips, grinding his pelvis against the bed.

“Why’d you stop?” Diego turns his face, and there’s drool clinging to his plush bottom lip. Holy shit, he’s making Diego drool and rut with his hands alone, think of what he could do if other body parts were thrown in the mix…

“Sorry.” Klaus’ voice comes out jarring and far too loud. He leans his weight back into the tops of his feet, trying to keep his now unmistakable boner from making contact with Diego’s ass. He works his hands from Diego’s mid-lower back out to his obliques.

Diego lets out a straight-up moan, and Klaus slips from his precarious perch and rubs his erection against the swell of Diego’s rear. Completely by accident, of course.

Since Diego can’t read minds, however, he has no idea that this is a total accident; and they both freeze.

Then Diego blows Klaus’ mind by propping himself up on his elbows, glancing over his shoulder, and saying, “You know, legs are feeling kind of tight, too. M-maybe you could do something about that, since you’re not too horrible at this.”

“Yeah?” Klaus swallows thickly, rubbing mindless patterns on his back. “Maybe you should, um, take off your pants? So I can get everything?”

He shakes his head like he’s bitten into a lemon, quelling the urge to smack himself in the face. Smooth!

His lack of game goes blissfully unnoticed by Diego, who says, “Okay, but you need to get off me first.”

Right! Klaus awkwardly flops over to the side, and Diego just sort of lifts his hips and slides his pants down his thighs and kicks them off. Klaus’ heart is thundering away, and Diego is definitely not wearing underwear, and that’s fine, right? That’s normal? This is just a massage to help him feel better, and when it’s done he’ll jokingly tell Klaus that he actually was horrible at giving massages despite feeling the most deeply relaxed he’s felt in years, and they’ll both laugh it off like the weirdos they are, and everything would just be fine and dandy and they’d go about their business and never speak of this again.

“Uh.” Diego’s lying buck naked on his stomach, looking uncertainly up at Klaus. Klaus is convinced that his eyes are playing tricks on him, because it seems like Diego’s shaking a little.

“Right. Okay, just uh. Stay there.” Klaus climbs back astride Diego, the softness of his bare skin shocking against his own sensitive inner thighs. He brazenly nestles the bulge of his cock against the area where Diego’s legs meet (he’s already felt it, no need to hide it), but the warmth emanating from Diego’s skin is seeping through the thin fabric of Klaus’ briefs, and there’s just so much beautiful flesh laid out before him that he’s practically vibrating with desire.


Biting his lip to suppress a groan, Klaus squirts more lotion into his hands and boldly splays his palms on Diego’s ass, one hand per plush, round cheek, and squeezes. “Is...that good?”

“Y-yes,” sighs Diego, rolling his hips purposefully. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, my god,” Klaus whispers, unable control the words coming out of his mouth as he kneads Diego apart and catches a glimpse of his hole, dark and inviting. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth as he massages and stares, mesmerized by the intimate sight before him as Diego’s sighs and groans increase in both volume and frequency.

Klaus lets out a shuddering exhale and swipes a curious finger between his cheeks. “Tight here too, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” breathes Diego, barely audibly, and Klaus watches his shoulders tense and release. For some reason, that’s it. No longer able to take it, Klaus leans forward and nuzzles Diego’s neck as he rubs the bulge in his briefs where his finger had just been. He presses a sweet, tentative kiss to Diego’s shoulder.

Diego turns his face; Klaus nearly comes on the spot—his full lips are plumper than they’ve any right to be, bitten red and swollen, his dark eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed. Klaus can feel tremors running incessantly through his body, and suddenly he’s too hot, he’s itchy all over, and he’s aching desperately for his own release.

Diego reaches up and grabs Klaus’ hand, unbalancing him so his chest falls forward, pressing directly against his back. He drags Klaus’ hand under his body and lifts his hips, placing it boldly against his cock. Klaus curls his fingers around his thick shaft and pulls, mouth so close to Diego’s that he practically catches his moan on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Klaus breathes, staring heatedly into Diego’s eyes. “Want me to get you off?”

“Yeah.” Diego lets out an honest-to-god whimper as he rocks into Klaus’ hand. “I’m already so close. P-p-please.”

”Holy fuck.” Klaus barely knows what to do with himself, suspended in what is surely a humid daydream, sweating through his thin crop top and breezy skirt. “Can I...can I take my clothes off, too?”

Diego nods, and Klaus dismounts. Diego stares at him, and Klaus would feel self-conscious if he weren’t so fucking aroused as he peels himself out of his clothes.

“Klaus,” breathes Diego, biting his lip. He reaches for him, and Klaus has to be as close as humanly possible to this beautiful man before he dies of need. He lies on top of Diego, relishing in every inch of his bare flesh that makes contact with Diego’s bare flesh, pressing his chest to his back, nestling his cock against his ass. He snakes his hands under Diego’s arms and clutches his shoulders as he sloppily kisses Diego’s neck.

“K-Klaus.” Diego can’t seem to remember the rest of his vocabulary, and Klaus wouldn’t mind if that never changed. The desperation in his voice is so thick it’s tangible, and Klaus rocks his hips slowly down.

“You look fucking amazing like this,” he murmurs against Diego’s ear, rubbing his prick against the backs of his thighs, sliding through the slick mess of sweat and precome. “Oh my god, I want you so bad, so, so bad.”

Diego squeezes his eyes shut and his lips fall open. “Fu--fuck, fuck me, please.”

“Oh holy fucking fuck.” Klaus buries his face into Diego’s neck, feeling his cock pulse more fluid onto Diego’s thighs. “I want to, so badly, but I’m not gonna last, and, if I may be blunt, neither are you.”

Diego whines in protest and cranes his neck. Klaus leans in and kisses him like he doesn’t think he’ll get another chance, because you never really know, and Diego kisses back, hot and sloppy, tongue plunging into Klaus’ mouth as he moans and works his hips against the sheets.

“That’s it,” says Klaus softly, pushing himself up and grabbing the lotion. He upends the bottle haphazardly, getting it all over Diego’s back before scooping it up and rubbing it over the backs of his muscled thighs. He parts Diego’s legs and reaches between them to wrap slick fingers around his dripping cock.

“God, oh--K-K-Klaus!” Diego tenses up and thrusts desperately into Klaus’ hand, just twice, before shuddering violently and spilling copiously onto Klaus’ fingers and the sheets below him. Klaus groans, barely able to reconcile the incredible sensation of Diego coming on him with the gorgeous sight of his muscles clenching and releasing as he gasps and moans through his lengthy, hot orgasm.

“Oh my god.” Klaus pulls his hand away, vision tunneling at the sight of the pearly strands glistening between his fingers. Diego pants softly, fingers still clenched in the bedsheets, and Klaus slicks himself up with his come-covered hand and pushes Diego’s thighs back together.

“Can I--”

“Yeah, yeah, anything, do it, whatever you w-want,” murmurs Diego, and oh boy, that is going directly into Klaus’ spank bank and remaining there forever. Swallowing, he lowers himself back over Diego and pushes his slick cock between his thighs.

“Jesus,” he whispers, arms trembling with the effort of keeping himself propped up. “Jesus, Diego.”

Sweaty fingers intertwine with Klaus’ as Diego undulates his hips. “Good?”

“So good, you feel so good.” Klaus can barely form sentences as he fucks his thighs, letting out shameless moans as he strokes the underside of Diego’s balls and softening cock, biting his lip as he slides wetly through the come on the sheets. He can only imagine how mind-blowing it would be to actually be inside Diego, and hopes that he’ll get the chance to find out.

Diego’s eyelids flutter, so Klaus squeezes his fingers and lowers his head to kiss his hair. He inhales self-indulgently as he thrusts, the intoxicating smell of his sweat and shampoo making him crave more. He drops onto his elbows and slides his free hand down Diego’s shoulder and pulls his arm overhead, leaning forward to bury his face in his armpit.

“You smell so good,” he groans into the sweaty hair there, dizzy with pleasure, eyes rolling back in his head.

Diego hums and writhes, hips moving beautifully with Klaus’, and Klaus’ entire world is narrowed down to this--the tight heat between of Diego’s wonderful thighs, the feeling of his body anchored beneath Klaus, the smell and feel and sound of him, and Klaus is burning up, stomach tightening in ecstasy--

“Klaus,” breathes Diego, unfocused eyes trained on Klaus’ face. “Come, please, wanna f-feel you come, Klaus. Please.”

”Oh.” The force of those words hit Klaus like a truck, and he can hear himself moaning and gasping as his belly rubs deliciously against Diego’s ass. Diego clenches his thighs like he’s trying to keep Klaus there, and it’s so good, so fucking good, and Klaus strokes deep, grits his teeth, and comes harder than he ever has between Diego’s lovely, shaking legs.

Klaus slumps forward, pinning Diego under his dead weight as he breathes hard, brain fuzzy and body sated in the immediate aftermath of his orgasm. Diego’s panting too, his breaths coming out in little sobs. To Klaus’ delight, he notices that they’re still holding hands. He props himself up on his elbows to both give his lovely partner a reprieve and plunge his tongue between his lips.

Diego breathes a little laugh into his mouth, almost like he’s surprised. This makes Klaus laugh too, and they pull apart. With a comically loud “oof,” Klaus rolls off of Diego and lies on his back, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, unfocused eyes roaming over his childhood scrawl. “Would it be weird if I said that I kinda wanted to do that for a really long time? I mean, do that with you for a really long time.”

Diego pushes himself up onto his elbows and gives Klaus a look. “Oh, you mean now you’re worried about making it weird? Because I’m pretty sure it can’t get much weirder than what we just d-did.”

“I don’t know, I’d be game for putting that theory to the test.” Klaus grins, and Diego shakes his head, but he’s looking at Klaus like he hung the moon. Klaus bites his lip and tries not to squirm at the gooey warmth that’s exploding in his chest, but he doesn’t look away.

“For what it’s worth…” Diego reaches a hand over and lightly caresses the tattoo on Klaus’ bicep. “I wanted to do that with you for a really long time, t-t-too.”