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i wanna be dirty

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 There’s something going on with Klaus.

 

Granted, this isn’t in itself a surprising thing because there’s always something going on with Klaus. He always seems off in some way, always one step ahead of you, always playing by different rules to the rest of them. Diego has never been able to keep up with his little brother— because even though they were all born on the same day, some of them have always felt little and some have always felt big. Diego is a big brother, and Klaus.

 

Well. Klaus will always be Diego’s baby brother, as far as he’s concerned.

 

But this is different to all the other times. Klaus isn’t being loud and obnoxious and all up in Diego’s face like he would usually be. Instead he’s quiet, subdued. He’s avoiding Diego for Christ’s sake, and whilst Diego wouldn’t normally think that was odd considering what they did the other day… what Diego did…

 

It just isn’t the same. Klaus isn’t blushing and avoiding his gaze and playing footsie with him under the table. He’s biting his lip and looking like he’s about five seconds away from bursting into tears whenever Diego walks past.

 

Diego can’t stand it, it feels too much like when they were kids and Klaus would come back from one of his and dad’s training days, so naturally he does the most reasonable thing possible. He waits for an opportunity when Five, Luther and Allison are all out of the house and then he goes to find Klaus, his footsteps echoing ominously throughout the big, empty house. He finds Klaus in the kitchen, laying spread-eagled on the kitchen table in one of Allison’s shin length skirts. The room is cloying and smokey, a blunt hanging loosely from between Klaus’ fingers from where his wrist dangles limply off the edge of the table, and a half empty bottle of wine stands abandoned on the worktop.

 

He looks beautiful, like a work of art. So sweet and vulnerable and prickly and tiny-kitten-angry, like Diego could just run a hand through his hair, scratch his nails over Klaus’ scalp, and he’d drop the bristly attitude. Crawl into Diego’s lap sweetly and nuzzle into his neck. Like everything Diego’s ever wanted and never let himself have, instead challenging himself with confident women like Eudora who would fight him to be in charge.

 

Diego enjoys a challenge as much as the next man, but what he wants is someone who’ll submit to him. Someone like Klaus.

 

Klaus, who sits ramrod straight on the table when he senses Diego’s presence, legs spread invitingly. The skirt is some satiny fabric that’s sheer and cool on Klaus’ skin, Diego can tell from here, and he can feel the urge to rip it and slide his hands up Klaus’ thighs like an itch under his skin. He wants to fuck Klaus in that skirt, he decides, wants Klaus to ride him wearing that ridiculously mismatched outfit.

 

“Diego,” Klaus slurs, the blunt slipping from his fingers and landing on the floor. Diego picks it up before it can catch light to anything and holds it in one hand, considering. This is the most attention Klaus has paid him in days and, despite how needy it makes him sound, Diego had forgotten how heady the feeling was. Klaus is looking up at him through big, innocent fuck-me eyes. He has a glazed, distant look like maybe he’s not all here but he tracks the movement of the joint with tactical precision, so he can’t be that high.

 

“What’s been going on, little man?” Diego hums, inspecting the joint with fake interest like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do with it. The nickname is one Luther gave Klaus years ago, back when they were both kids and the innocence in Klaus’ eyes wasn’t an illusion. Klaus always hated it, which of course is why Diego uses it now.

 

Klaus slides further towards the edge of the table until his legs are dangling over the edge, feet swinging childishly, Diego standing in between his spread legs. Klaus is warm and malleable and when Diego lays a hand on the side of his neck - firm, commanding - Klaus’ eyes flutter shut. He reaches up and makes a futile grab for the glowing cigarette in Diego’s hand.

 

“Ah ah ah,” Diego reprimands, holding it just out of reach. “I asked you a question, remember?” In all fairness Diego can understand why Klaus might be having trouble keeping a clear head: booze mixed with weed mixed with the feeling of Diego’s fingers sliding up his leg under the skirt, over his slim calf and under the joint of his knee and up to the inside of his thigh where the skin is soft and sensitive. Klaus moans softly and lets his forehead fall against Diego’s chest, taking big, shuddering breaths.

 

Klaus falls apart so pretty for him, always willing, always wanting. Diego’s throat feels dry; Luther was always Number One in their father’s eyes, was always the one with the most responsibility. But this is on a whole other level— Diego is responsible for a whole other person, and the amount of trust Klaus is putting in Diego to take care of him is immense. Even if he doesn’t realise he’s doing it, Klaus is giving Diego the greatest gift he could ever imagine. 

 

“Please,” Klaus whispers, aiming for seductive when he looks up at Diego all pretty from under his eyelashes and starts kissing his neck. It feels good - great even - but Diego never said he could do that. Diego’s other hand slips up Klaus’ back and up the back of his neck so subtly that Klaus doesn’t even realise it when that hand cradles the back of his head. Diego gets a firm grip on Klaus’ hair and yanks backwards so suddenly that Klaus gasps and moans whorishly. Diego nearly fucking loses it at that sound.

 

“Please, what?” Diego hums, ducking and tilting his head just so in order to look into Klaus’ eyes. Klaus’ cock is clearly paying attention even if he doesn’t seem to be, tenting the skirt he’s wearing so that his slutty princess look ends up being more of debauched hooker look. Diego is into it, either way.

 

“Please, need it.” Klaus whines, squirming between Diego’s legs. Diego digs his fingers into the fleshy part of Klaus’ thigh; he hopes he’ll leave bruises. Little crescent shaped indents from his nails and bruises with his fingerprint that will remind Klaus of this moment right here, right now. 

 

“Need what?” Diego pushes, knowing Klaus will break any moment now. When he does, it’s up to Diego to put him back together. “Need this?” He waves the joint around in the air dismissively, watching as Klaus’ eyes follow it greedily. “Need my cock? You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

 

“You know,” Klaus murmurs, pushing weakly at Diego’s chest. Diego releases his hold on Klaus’ hair and holds Klaus’ jaw firmly in his hand. 

 

“What was that?” Diego asks, just to be an asshole.

 

“You know,” Klaus repeats, voice wrecked. “You know what I need.” And fuck if those words don’t make Diego want to push Klaus back down onto the table and make him come so hard his toes curl. 

 

“That’s right.” Diego tells him, spreading his legs a little further so that the fabric of the skirt is straining at the seams. “I know what you need. And this shit?” He waves the cigarette tantalisingly  in front of Klaus’ face, teasing. “This isn’t what you need. You need this.” He emphasises the words by accompanying them with a particularly hard squeeze of Klaus’ cheeks. Diego ducks his head down and nips at Klaus’ jaw sharply.

 

“You need someone to hold you down,” He continues, scraping his nails down the inside of Klaus’ thigh, causing him to let out a beautifully wrecked moan. “You need someone to tell you what to do, don’t you? You need someone to tell you what you need. Isn’t that right?”

 

Klaus pants, clutching Diego’s shoulder tight for support. He nods, tears slipping down his cheeks.

 

“That’s me, Klaus.” Diego hisses, steadying his brother’s head when it lolls around on his shoulders. Klaus’ eyes are glazed over and Diego gets the feeling it’s not just from his high. “I tell you what you need, and you listen.”

 

Without waiting for Klaus to acknowledge this Diego takes a drag of the joint, inhaling the thick smoke and holding it in his lungs for a second before crashing forward against Klaus’ mouth, forcing his lips apart and passing the smoke into his mouth. Diego lets the cigarette fall to the floor and grinds the heel of his boot into it whilst Klaus wraps his skinny arms around Diego’s neck and pulls him closer.

 

Diego doesn’t give Klaus an opportunity to mourn the lost joint, fucking roughly into his mouth with his tongue, biting at Klaus’ bottom lip each time it seems like he’s slipping into a daze. Klaus wraps his legs around Diego’s waist and Diego, fucking done with waiting to take what he wants, uses both hands to rip down the seam of the skirt so that it splits almost all the way. It still clings to Klaus’ hips but Klaus’ entire left leg is visible and Diego is able to push the fabric out of the way. He grabs Klaus’ ankle and yanks him forward so that he’s all laid out on his back, Diego hovering over him.

 

Diego loves seeing him all laid out like this, lips red and swollen, chest heaving, cock thick and full and heavy. All for him.

 

Klaus keens when Diego wraps a hand around his cock through the silky skirt fabric. It must be cool and smooth in contrast to the hot skin. Diego keeps his hand moving fast, feeling each minute tremble in Klaus’ thighs when Diego does something he really likes. He enjoys it when Diego rubs his thumb just under the head, when he squeezes tighter on the upstroke, when he strokes him off just on the wrong side of too hard and too fast. 

 

“You gonna talk to me now, huh, little man?” Diego grunts, breathily. Klaus starts to rise up on his elbows, but Diego wrestles him down again with a hand around his neck. Diego is nowhere near as strong as Luther but Klaus has always been lanky rather than muscled and all it takes is a strong hold. Both of Klaus’ hands scrabble at Diego’s hand wrapped around his throat but each time he ends up falling back onto the table - knocking off several empty glasses and cutlery - legs jerking involuntarily. He keeps thrusting into Diego’s grip though, so he must be doing something right.

 

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong if I make you come?” Diego persists, squeezing just a little bit more. Klaus’s eyes squeeze shut and his face is slowly turning red; he coughs and tries desperately to swallow, and Diego can feel the movement, can feel his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, against the palm of his hand. 

 

“You’re not gonna make it difficult for me, are you?” Klaus makes an aborted gesture that Diego thinks might have been an attempt at shaking his head. “You’re gonna let me take care of you, like a good boy. Right?”

 

Klaus comes with a scream that’s silenced by Diego’s hand around his throat. Diego can feel the fabric of the skirt getting damp as Klaus’ cock throbs, pulses out come that makes the silk stick to Diego’s palm. When he takes his hand away there’s a red ring around Klaus’ neck that looks vaguely hand shaped. Diego can’t get his cock out fast enough.

 

He jerks himself off hard, because Klaus is not nearly sober enough to suck his dick and he doesn’t have the patience to make it last. Klaus stays exactly where he is - in the same slutty position as well, like he knows what Diego is getting off to - and just watches his brother’s hand flying over his cock. Klaus looks fucking obscene: legs askew, ripped skirt soaked with come, chest flushed and nipples hard, neck sore looking, lips bitten red and swollen, eyeliner smudged around Klaus’ bedroom eyes and tear tracks staining his cheeks.

 

He’s beautiful, and Diego comes over his stomach.

 

When he’s caught his breath Klaus is till watching him, seeming more aware and more curious. Last time Diego never got his dick out in front of him and this is the first time he’s seen Diego get off: his eyes are glued to Diego’s hand on his own now softening dick. Diego takes a breath, runs his fingers through the mess of come on Klaus’ stomach and holds his fingers up to Klaus’ lips.

 

Trusting, sweet, vulnerable Klaus opens his mouth for Diego.

 

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” Diego asks gently as he feeds Klaus his come. The way Klaus is able to suck his fingers right to the back of his throat is sort of distracting but Diego just came and Klaus’ distraction techniques won’t work on him right now. Not entirely, at least.

 

Klaus licks his lips, smearing saliva and come across his face. Diego considers cleaning him up, but the others aren’t going to be back until tomorrow and he sort of likes Klaus being covered in him like this. When Klaus speaks, his voice is nothing more than a weak whisper, so broken that he’s definitely going to have to come up with some excuse tomorrow when the others get back.

 

“Kiss me?” He asks, and it isn’t what Diego wanted to hear but as soon as he hears it he knows that it’s exactly what he wants to hear, and how confusing is that? In this moment, Klaus is more exposed to him than he’s ever been.

 

Diego licks into Klaus’ mouth softly, taking care not to put pressure on his throat and keep his movements light. Klaus chases the gentle pressure, the tickling sensation of Diego’s lips on his own. Klaus tastes like come and weed and alcohol, and with the way Diego is sucking on his tongue he can’t get enough.

 

“Your girlfriend,” Klaus coughs out when they break apart. “Won’t leave me alone.”

 

Diego freezes. For all of his foresight, he had never actually seriously considered asking Klaus to manifest Eudora, nor had he expected anything like this to happen. That would explain, then, why Klaus has been ignoring him for the past few days. He looks defiant when he speaks with his chin jutted out - beautifully contrasting with the ring of bruises around his neck - but when he sounds guilty and haunted.

 

Diego loved Eudora. Not like he loves Klaus: in that painful, unconditional way that family is supposed to love each other in mixed with a sharp, needy way that family is most certainly not supposed to love each other in. But he loved her nonetheless, because she never fully realised how fucked up he was. If she’s been here the whole time watching him and Klaus…

 

He pushes away from the table, breathing hard. Klaus watches with a facade of mild curiosity cover up the hurt and rejection bubbling under the surface as Diego tucks his cock away and zips up his trousers. He doesn’t make any objection when Diego leaves the room, breath coming out in harsh pants, and doesn’t look back. The only thing Diego wants to do right now is turn on his heel and run back to Klaus, take care of him and promise to take care of him for as long as Klaus will have him.

 

He doesn’t.

 

The next morning when he heads down for breakfast, Klaus isn’t there and there’s no sign of the night before having ever happened. There’s just Mom placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Diego and six empty spots where his brothers and sisters should be.