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Sentimental

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Apollo doesn't realize what he's getting into when he tugs Klavier into bed on a rainy Tuesday night.

It's a normal Tuesday, like the Tuesday before it and like the Tuesday that will come next week. It's nobody's birthday or anniversary anything else particularly noteworthy. It's just a Tuesday that Apollo spent investigating an embezzlement case the Agency picked up the week before, and that Klavier spent in court prosecuting a murder trial that couldn't possibly have been any more open and shut if it had tried.

It's a regular old evening, and Apollo is feeling a little horny, so he pulls on the collar of Klavier's shirt to get him over the threshold of his bedroom, just hard enough to show he means it. Their enthusiasm and arousal grow with every piece of stubborn clothing they peel off of each other.

Apollo wants to have sex just for the sake of it, and Klavier is more than on board, so he figures things will go as they usually do: Klavier will get him naked first and spend an obnoxiously long time sucking marks onto the skin of his neck before he finally takes his damn briefs off, someone will inevitably get lube on the sheets, and Apollo will be left wondering in a fleeting, pre-orgasmic moment of clarity how the hell someone can possibly be so good at finding another person's prostate while Klavier smirks against his neck.

And Klavier will probably talk dirty to him in German – he gets off on that. Actually, they both do, but Apollo is determined not to admit it.

They get to the part where Klavier finally shimmies out of his underwear before he pauses. That's different; that's new, and it makes Apollo blink up at him in confusion as Klavier stops halfway into straddling him. "Something wrong?" he asks, his voice coming out a lot more breathless and needy than he'd like.

Klavier smiles, a warm little thing that slips onto his face easily. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" Dammit, Apollo feels himself blush. There's something sentimental in those eyes of his, and so genuine that he just can't help it. And it's not like Klavier isn't occasionally prone to waxing poetic during sex, but now it's a little out of left field.

"Um...what?"

"You heard me." He leans down, pressing another kiss to the side of Apollo’s neck without any teeth or suction or even the tiniest rasp of tongue. It almost tickles. Apollo shivers. "How did I ever wind up lucky enough to have you in my bed with me?"

"It's my bed," Apollo tells him, his voice muffled as Klavier silences him with his own sinfully soft lips.

They stay like that for a while, just pressed close to one another, kissing lazily, tongues sliding across each other’s' teeth and skin. It's sort of nice. Actually, it's very nice. It's not like there's a lack of kissing in their relationship, but Apollo can't remember the last time they did for so long. There's something almost frighteningly intimate about it, he realizes after several minutes have passed, as Klavier's hands run down over the length of his bare body.

He doesn't reach between Apollo's legs, not yet. His fingers skim down over his ribs, palms pressing almost possessively against the outside of his thighs as his lips trail down over his jaw. Apollo draws in a shaky breath. "Klav..." he croaks, "Are you gonna...I mean, this is nice, but I-"

"Hm?" Klavier leans back, cheeks pink and lips swollen, and he just stares down at him, like Apollo is a sunset over the Grand Canyon and he’s a dumbstruck tourist.

He has a hard time finding his words. "I just...what are you doing?"

Klavier chuckles. "Enjoying you." He buries his face in the crook of Apollo's neck, sucking gently on his pulse point. "I don't do it enough. Oh, the sex is wunderbar, to say the least, but I don't just enjoy you enough."

Those wandering hands are back, and they actually leave goosebumps in their wake as they make their way up and down the length of Apollo's body. Every pass leaves him more sensitive, makes him shudder when they double back.

As nimble and deft as those hands are, and as soft as they look, they're calloused and tough to the touch from years of practice at his guitar. The roughness of his skin is familiar and electrifying, and despite the fact that Klavier hasn’t even touched his cock besides the occasional, probably accidental brush, by the time Klavier’s mouth has wandered down to his sternum, he’s almost embarrassingly hard and leaking against his stomach.

“K…Klavier,” he breathes, and god, he sounds debauched. Klavier’s eyes flash up toward him, and Apollo knows what he’s waiting for, but he doesn’t quite get the word out.

Those hands run down the length of his legs, his mouth dragging all the way down his stomach. He presses the most gentle and infuriatingly chaste kiss to the head of his cock, and it draws a shaky, broken groan out of him as he grabs the sheets in tight fists.

Klavier is saying something in German – of course – and that alone would be enough to make Apollo blush no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Now, he doesn’t have the sense of mind to try at all. He can make out a few of the words: they’re all things like love and gorgeous and mine – not mein Forehead or mein Lieb or any of the other pet names that Klavier favors, but just plain mine.

That on its own is enough to make Apollo’s gasp that much louder when Klavier wraps his lips around the tip of him and sucks.

Jesus,” he shudders, and Klavier laughs, low and rumbling deep in his chest.

“Never took you for a religious one, Herr Forehead,” he says. Before Apollo can counter, he actually nuzzles against the hard line of his erection, the corner of his lips dragging across his over-sensitive skin. He reaches one hand up toward him. “Hand me the lube, would you?”

The request itself isn’t exactly sexy, but it gets Apollo’s heart pounding even harder anyway. With a shaky hand he fumbles for it on the bedside table until he finds the bottle and manages to hand it down to him. “Danke,” Klavier says, and he flicks the cap open.

And those fingers – god, those fingers -- are pressing inside, just one at first, sliding in slick and easy and bending just that little bit that it takes to make Apollo squirm. He can feel his body giving, pliant and eager, and it isn’t long before Klavier is stretching him with two deft fingers. As he does, that mouth of his is dragging up and down the side of his length, not taking him inside, but adding just enough friction to make him buck upward toward him.

“Gott, you feel good,” Klavier groans, like the feeling of his own fingers inside Apollo’s ass is enough on its own to get him off. Apollo brings a hand up to his mouth, biting down on one knuckle because the mere thought of Klavier actually being able to get off on fingering him like this is almost enough to make him come right then and there.

Those eyes are darting up to look at him again, and something in his tone is almost chiding. “You always do that.”

“D-do what?” Apollo chokes out, staring at the ceiling. Klavier reaches up with his free hand, tilting his head down to face him.

“It’s like you’re embarrassed…like you don’t want me to see. Honestly, Forehead, it’s not like you to be so shy.”

“M’not shy.” Klavier chuckles at that. “Well, what do you want?”

“Ach, what I want is for you to tell me what you want.” He leans down again, kissing all the way down the length of his torso and up the side of his penis, the touch so light it may as well not be there at all. “So? What do you want, Apollo? Tell me…”

God, his voice, it sounds almost desperate, like Klavier doesn’t want to hear his answer, but needs it. Apollo’s mind is racing, blurring until he can’t think of the words. “I…” His voice shakes and fails him when Klavier finally wraps his lips around him again. “Oh! I want…god…I want you to…” He bucks his hips back against Klavier’s hand. “More. Just more. I don’t care what, I just want…please.

It’s a messy amalgamation of words at the very best, but the last one out of his mouth is the one that Klavier has been waiting for. Something flashes in those eyes, and suddenly he’s pulling his hand out and his mouth away, which is the exact opposite of what Apollo wanted. He makes a needy little keening noise before he can stop himself, and Klavier smirks, rolling onto his back beside him.

“Don’t you worry, I’m not leaving you.” He reaches over, guiding him closer until Apollo is straddling him. “Just wanted to see you a little better, that’s all.”

Apollo’s whole body is buzzling, and he knows without even looking down at himself that he’s red all the way down to his toes. But Klavier doesn’t let him stay where he is, just growls out a husky, “Closer,” and nudges him up until Apollo’s knees are resting on either side of Klavier’s shoulders.

The anticipation of what he knows is coming is almost enough to make him shake, and nothing in the world could prepare him for the rush of sensation that comes when Klavier surges forward, wrapping his lips around his cock with all the enthusiasm starving man presented with a steak.

Apollo yells at the feeling of it, thrusting forward before he can stop himself. Klavier reaches around, presses the pads of two freshly slick fingers against him and pushing them inside while at the same time pulling him in closer. His other hand is pressed firmly against Apollo’s hip, guiding his movements as he rocks against his mouth, gasping louder with every movement.

And he’s watching him; Klavier is looking up at him intently, gaze laser sharp, like he’s determined not to miss a single second of this, of Apollo completely losing his composure. Apollo is vaguely aware of the fact that jumbles of words are making their way out of his mouth: garbled expletives and clipped half-pleas for more, for that last little nudge to send him sailing over the edge. He sucks in greedy lungfuls of air, his blood pounding in his ears, like his body just can’t keep up with the fire coursing through him.

And then Klavier reaches up, his hand moving from Apollo’s hip and skimming up his side, his shoulder, his hand cupping Apollo’s flushed and sweaty jaw against his palm. It’s a gesture that’s so indescribably intimate, and so tender that it feels starkly out of place when he’s unashamedly fucking Klavier’s mouth, that it sends a shock through his system. Suddenly he’s hyper-aware of the way Klavier is looking at him, almost reverently.

It’s so much – too much – and before he can get out a warning, he’s coming. He doesn’t moan, and he doesn’t scream; the breath that’s trapped in his lungs can’t even find its way out of his open mouth as every muscle in his body tenses at once. His orgasm comes silently, leaving him shaking and so red in the face that he feels like his skin is on fire. Finally, the air rushes out of him, and he lets out a breath that rattles him down to his bones before he slumps against the headboard, sweaty and sated.

Gently, Klavier guides him onto his back on the sheets, and they lie there for a moment, catching their breath as they melt into the mattress below them.

Apollo catches Klavier massaging his jaw, and self-consciousness washes over him again. “Was that too much?” he somehow manages to ask, and Klavier actually barks out a laugh.

“Nein, not at all. It’s just what I wanted.” He turns on his side, nuzzling against Apollo’s shoulder. “I wish you could see yourself like that. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.” He presses lazy kisses to the skin of his shoulder, and despite the sweat cooling on his brow, he feels his face heating up again. “You blush so sweet when you’re about to come.”

That makes his cheeks go from rosy to beet-red in no time flat. “Yeah, well…speaking of that…I hate to say it after all that, but…I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to-“

Klavier holds up a hand. “As if you even need to worry about me.” He lets out what Apollo immediately recognizes as his satisfied, post-orgasm sigh.

“You already-“

“Mmm…”

“Just from-“

“I told you, the sight of you like that is…ach…”

If he wasn’t already so intensely sated, that fact alone would undoubtedly stoke his desire to no end. But for now, he’ll save that for another day. He doubts he could move if he tried, and Klavier is pleasantly warm against his side, pressing gentle kisses against his shoulder whenever the mood happens to strike, so he lets his eyes slide closed.

Klavier tells him in the morning, with an affectionate kiss to the tip of his nose, that he even blushes in his sleep.