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Ben’s his boy. Benny’s been his boy for as long as Klaus can remember. Since they were children. Since they were both boys.
Ben’s his boy the way he’d never been anyone else's. Certainly not Sir Reginald.
Ben doesn’t have Daddy Issues, Klaus will attest to that much. You have to have a dad to have daddy issues, and like Klaus - Ben never really felt that connection. Not like Luther, or Diego; they saw Sir as Father, and it haunts them still. Allison less so - she had bigger fish to fry. Vanya...Maybe. She certainly didn’t address it in her book.
So no - it’s not Daddy Issues that make Ben shudder when Klaus calls him pretty, calls him good . It’s nothing so skin-deep.
It’s what happens when you’re six out of seven . When you’re six out of seven, and seven gets left out of the picture. The literal picture, even. It’s what happens when you’re told that you’re very, very special, but also the least special. Six, out of six, in Sir Reginald's eyes.
Six, whose gifts were mighty but impractical. Six, who could never fully control Them. Six, who died without ever managing to please Sir. Six, who died a disappointment.
It’s a bunch of fucking bullshit. Ben’s gifts are beyond all of them - maybe even Vanya’s. Ben’s gifts are thousands of years old, violent and hungry and untamed. Ben is, in Klaus’ opinion, just as capable of destroying the world. Ben’s got a monster living inside of him - even this far beyond the grave. Ben is extraordinary. One through five, they can do things. Ben doesn’t do things. He is his gift. Sir Reginald never understood that.
Ben had tried so hard to be good. He pushed himself so far, just to see that fleeting glimpse of approval in Sir’s eyes. Those little flashes of pleased surprise that seemed to grow fewer and farther between as they grew older. Ben tried so hard to be what Sir wanted - he died trying. He died wanting .
Ben just wants to be a good boy. It’s all he ever wanted. It’s all any of them ever wanted; to be good. But Ben - for all that he’s followed Klaus in and out of every day for the last thirty-something years, he’s a little bit sixteen. And that desperate, hungry need for validation still burns in him. It’s in every single one of them -- but it’s in Ben a little different, and Klaus is there for it. He’s there for him.
Ben doesn’t like how much he likes it. But that doesn’t stop Klaus from petting him softly, from telling him he’s doing so good. If validation - praise - is what Ben needs, Klaus can give him that. It isn’t difficult. It isn’t a hardship. Not when Ben needs it so much.
It’s good. It feels good. Watching Ben’s face go blotchy red, watching his eyes squinch shut, his teeth clench as he fights how much he loves it, as he trembles and shakes so pretty.
They’re in the TV room, something old and uninteresting playing on the screen. Diego’s on the other end of the couch, and Luther's passed out cold on the chair, head tipped back, snoring faintly. Five’s on the floor, belly-down, feet up like the thirteen year old he is, watching what Klaus thinks might be a conspiracy theory documentary on the assassination of JFK.
TV has always fascinated Klaus in an abstract sort of way, before drugs had proven more fascinating. It had always served as a weird glimpse of what life would be like without ghosts floating all the fuck around. Just living people, living lives, lovely and unaffected, milling about without the dead judging the state of their socks-- fucking wild , man. There’s a ghost outside the mansion right now, crooning soft, smokey jazz tunes. They don’t usually creep so close anymore, not since the Apoca-not, but this one’s earning his keep, and so Klaus has decided to let him be.
Ben is on the floor. He’d always preferred to sprawl his legs out in front of him in a gangly vee. He really is pretty, long limbed and lean in a completely different way than Klaus. Klaus is...Klaus is skeletal, even with the little bit of muscle he managed to scrape together while in ‘Nam. Klaus is taut skin over sharp bone. Ben is pretty. A little bit baby-faced, with eyes that have always seemed to grave. Ben is willowy. Or maybe Klaus is bias. Who the fuck knows.
“This is such a bunch of fucking bullshit,” Five decides, waspishly. He pushes himself up in a maneuver that makes Klaus knees ache in a way reserved for post-thirty. “That man is a fucking quack. Christ. I need a drink.” He blinks out in a wave of salty blue, leaving them all without so much as a by-your-leave.
And then there were four.
Without even a side-eye toward Luther, Klaus reaches out to dig his hand into Ben’s hair, tugging his head back to expose his throat, mouth parted and pink. He catches Klaus eye, but doesn’t struggle in the soft grip. Klaus doesn’t need to use force with Ben, not when they’re like this.
He curls himself forward to kiss Benny, almost upside-down but not quite Spider-man. It’s an awkward angle, but Klaus likes the helplessly open way Ben’s forced to keep his mouth, with Klaus hand dug tightly in his hair. He can’t kiss him deeply, but he can kiss him. He can kiss the corner of Ben’s mouth, softly, just to feel his lashes flutter like butterfly wings. He flutters under Klaus’ touch, and draws his knees up to his chest. So easy, Benny-boy. So easy .
“Guys,” Diego says roughly, and Ben startles. Klaus looks up, glaring Diego’s way. Diego doesn’t usually interrupt, but maybe he only likes to watch from the shadows.“I mean - should you be doing that? With Luther’s right there?”
“Allison is riding that space-dick on the reg, dude.” Klaus holds Diego’s eye and licks down Ben’s temple, long and slow and wet . Ben squirms, but he still can’t move , not with how Klaus is holding him. He also doesn’t ask Klaus to stop. He holds very still, like a very good boy. He likes it when Diego watches him be a good boy, Klaus had recently figured out. It’s icing on his good-boy cake, a second layer of validation. Klaus needs Diego to be a good fucking sport about it. “This is practically innocent in comparison.”
“Innocent,” Diego snorts. “Right.” He does squirm, squidging up in his seat and turning his gaze back to the TV.
Klaus shakes Ben very gently, before releasing his grip on his hair. “Benny’s still innocent,” he says, breathing the words right into Ben’s open mouth. “A little bit.” If your standard of innocence is gauged by penetrative sex, Ben’s innocent and Klaus hasn’t had sex in like eight months. He might as well be a born-again virgin at this point. Ben tries to kiss him, even as he speaks. Klaus likes it so much he gives in and licks his bottom lip, quick and sweet. “What’s a little kissing between brothers?”
“Incest, mostly,” Diego mutters, curling his fingers into the arms of the couch. “Christ.”
Which - Klaus has been very patient with Diego and his Diego-Issues. The Daddy Issue - those are easily fixed with a few dirty kinks. The Diego-Issues will require a little more manhandling. Ben’s in a good place though, Ben’s starting to get it, even a little bit. So tonight- tonight Diego .
He tilts Ben’s head back to a more comfortable position, cards his hand through his hair and tugs just a little more. Ben has fluffy hair, and Klaus is a little bit high, a little bit tactile . “Stay?”
“I’m not a dog ,” Ben mutters, but he settles down against the couch, and rests his chin on his knees. “Can’t fucking tell me what to do.”
And that’s true . Klaus can only suggest. Ben can decide on his own if he’s going to play. If he’s going to be good. That’s the nature of the game, in a way.
He pushes himself up off the couch and Diego tracks his movements with his eyes, keeping his head trained in the direction of the TV. He’s not fooling a single fucking soul in the room though, except for Luther who is still asleep. Klaus lets his feet rise up off the floor as soon as he’s behind the them, ghosting across the old, dusty carpets until he stands behind Diego’s end of the couch. It’s easy to settle down, dig both his hands into the soft, plush give of the velvet cushion, just to feel Diego startle, and jerk. He doesn’t move though - not a single fucking inch. Doesn’t whip around and tell Klaus to fuck off, like he’s often so ready too. Doesn’t put Klaus in a headlock and drag him clear out of the house. No - he stays. A nother good boy .
God - Sir Reginald really fucking broke them. What a fucking mess. Klaus though - Klaus likes life messy, and so this works.
Klaus settles in, curls himself over Diego’s left shoulder, until they’re chest to back with the chair between them, cheek-to-cheek. “Tell me, brother mine. Do you watch Luther and Allison too? Did he get a monkey dick too, is it proportionate? Does he have tiny balls? I’ve always thought he’d have fucking marbles---”
“I--- God, no.” He shudders, appropriately disgusted, like bestiality is the line in the sand. Incest, kinda hot. Monkey-fucking, god no . “I’m not some fucking---”
“You’re a nasty motherfucker who gets off on watching your brothers come all over each other,” Klaus interrupts, very rudely, very meanly. He turns just enough to bite Diego, not particularly gently, on the jaw. “You’re fucking disgusting, Diego. I bet you’re hard right now, you fucking sicko.”
“Klaus,” Ben says, tentatively. Ben barely understands his own needs, and so it’s not so wild he doesn’t understand what Diego needs. “Maybe...”
“No, no,” Klaus tells him, softy, sweetly. “It’s okay, Benny boy. Diego appreciates the truth. Don’t you, brother mine? You like honesty. You like it when I tell it like it is, huh?”
Diego trembles, head falling back against Klaus every so faintly. Klaus hadn’t realized --- Diego had been waiting for him to make a move, apparently. Huh. “I---”
“You’re filthy ,” Klaus licks his cheek, just like he does to Ben - but it means something different altogether for Diego. It’s degrading, it’s dirty . Diego shudders all over, hunching forward, even as he grips the arm of the couch, a soft, broken groan ripping out of his chest. “Getting off, watching me and Benny. You fucking touch yourself, don’t you? You had your hand in your pants, didn’t you? In the hallway. And when Ben was in the shower, when you told him to---”
“No, no not then---”
“Oh?” Klaus pushes himself up over the low back of the couch, so he can curl himself around Diego’s shoulder. Diego, who still won’t look at him. “Why not?”
“I had t-t-too---I was m-m-making sure he was okay.” Diego stutters, cheeks burning a dusky rose beneath his olive skin. Klaus almost breaks, almost forgets what this is about. Nothing destroys Diego more than his stutter. Klaus almost tells him it’s okay, that he’s okay - but that’s not what Diego needs. “That he was s-s-safe.”
What Diego needs is for Klaus to just ignore it. Ignore it like it’s nothing, because that’s exactly what it is. Klaus doesn’t give a shit about Diego’s stutter, and Klaus is in charge here.
What a novel fucking concept - Klaus in charge. Makes him hard, it really does. Gets him off. He’s just as fucking broken as the rest of them.
He turns a curious eye to Ben, who’s staring at his knees. “Benny?”
“To make sure I didn’t lose control,” Ben explains, hugging his knees. He doesn’t like Klaus right now. He’s upset, sickened maybe, by the way Klaus is talking to Diego. Klaus has seen that far-away look on Ben’s face before, through a haze of booze and pills. It’s not a great look. “He was helping me.”
“Benny, look at me. Look at us,” Klaus calls to him. Ben is so needy. Klaus sort of loves it in a way that is most definitely not healthy. Ben needs Klaus like no one ever has - certainly not Sir. Ben needs Klaus, and Klaus gets off on it. But shit - there are worse things than liking being needed. Klaus pays it back by giving Ben what he needs. It’s okay - well, it’s not okay - but it’s good. “C’mon, baby boy. Benny. Benny. Don’t ignore me. I’ll have to yell, and then Luther will wake up and wonder why Diego has a boner.”
Ben does, turning just so, to look at the pair of them through the dark sweep of his lashes. He’s pissed, and Klaus just wants to kiss it off his mutinous face. “You’re being a dick . You need to---just leave him alone. This isn’t necessary.”
Ben’s protective of Diego. It’s----it’s fucking cute. Klaus can’t fucking stand it. Sweet, pretty Ben. A good fucking boy.
“Diego,” Klaus says, holding Ben’s gaze. Diego makes a noise, but doesn’t speak. He’s so tense, it makes Klaus hurt just looking at him. He loops an arm around Diego, holding him in a gentle, unchallenged headlock. He scratches his fingers through Diego’s neat-trimmed beard, smearing spit across his cheek. Filthy, filthy, filthy. “You’re disgusting,” he says, very softly this time, very sweetly, turning just enough to kiss his reddened cheek. Diego closes his eyes, and holds himself very still. Bingo . Never let it be said Klaus can’t hit a target too. Diego could flip Klaus straight over his shoulder, slam him down on the floor and boot stomp his face in. He whimpers a little, instead. “You’re filthy. You’re a vile fucking pervert.” He never breaks Ben’s gaze. Ben whose shaking so faintly, fingers biting into the dark, black denim of his jeans. “It’s nice, isn’t it? It’s easy ? To just give in to all those awful, deviant things you want? But you can’t - because you’re Diego, and you have to be perfect . You have to be Number One.”He kisses Diego’s face, and then spits on him. “But you’ll never be number one, because you’re Number Two.”
Ben sucks in a breath, and Diego--- might be crying. Like---like actual tears, big fucking salty tears. Christ . Klaus---Klaus should not fuck the couch, but he can barely remember why.
There’s no actual God that could stop Klaus from swooping in and licking up those tears, even as they freefall down Diego’s face. Fuck . This is a new kink, even for Klaus, but he is fucking here for it. “No one cares if you’re perfect, Di. Not here, not like this. I don’t care. You wanna give in to this fucking filth, I don’t care. I’ll fuck you up , Diego. I’ll fucking wreck you.” Diego’s panting now, shaking so pretty, and Ben looks rapt . “You wanna be just like me, big brother ? Dirty. Filthy. Fucking ruined ?”
Diego - Diego groans , sinking harder into the couch, head falling back against the curve of Klaus’ neck. He turns into it, plush mouth brushing against Klaus jaw. “I should...This isn’t...”
“He likes it,” Klaus tells Ben, very clearly, because there are times to be leading, and there are times to be blunt. Ben needs gentle hand holding, coaxing, validation. Diego needs straight-facts, no-nonsense, a sense of practicality in all presentation. “You wanna call me a slut, Diego? Wanna hold my mouth open and fuck my face? Pull my hair? Choke me? You wanna take control. You wanna tell me what to do? I’ll let you. I’ll fucking love it. You want that?”
Klaus can see an actual wet patch forming on his pants, where he’s so hard, so fucking wet. Fuck. Klaus----Klaus isn’t a good enough person to deserve such a fucking gift . “Fuck, please, I don’t----”
“Or do you want me to call you a slut?” Klaus asks, petting his face, tears burning both their skin.“A filthy fucking slut who's going to come right here .”
“Luther---”
“Sleeps like the dead.” It’s not Klaus who says it. It’s fucking Ben. Sweet Ben. Good Ben.
“That’s right, baby boy,” Klaus tells him, catching his eye and smiling. Ben flushes, all pleased and horny and perfect. “Why don’t you come over here?” He suggests because good boys get rewards, Klaus is just a giver like that. “Right here.” He tilts his head toward the space beside Diego’s knee. “Why don’t you...help our brother, here. You just help him out....Out of his pants, even. And I’ll keep watch.”
“You want me to jerk him off,” Ben surmises, frank and even and very Ben. Klaus almost can’t tell he’s holding his thighs tight together in a hope to not lose it without being touched. He’s looking at Klaus though, for something - for approval.
Klaus smiles wide, closed mouthed, and shrugs his shoulders. “You said it, not me. But isn’t that a good idea, Diego? Benny here gets your dick out and I remind you that you’re fucking trash, and you find out how good it feels to sink so fucking low.”
“ Nnng ,” Diego says, closing his eyes as Ben creeps closer on his hands and knees. Without being asked. Without being told. Because Klaus doesn’t have to tell Ben to be a good boy. He wants to be.
“ Aww shit Benny,” Klaus almost whines because while he is very good at sex and sex related things, he’s not a fucking saint . He’s not hardened to it, not disaffected. Not even slightly . “Fuck, that’s good. Jesus Christ.”
He kneels in front of Diego, looking up at Klaus with wide, bright eyes. Like this , he asks without a single word. Like this?
“So good. So fucking good. C’mon,” Klaus breathes out, holding Diego a little too hard. Not quite choking him but----well. That can be explored later. “Fuck, there you go. C’mon. You know what to do.”
Ben touches Diego over his pants first though, palms right up his cock where he’s dressed to the right, makes a point of stopping where he’s wet, where he’s sticky. One of Diego’s hands fly to grip at Klaus’ arm, hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to leave marks and if Klaus wasn’t achingly hard already - that would fucking do it . He grips Klaus’ wrist so tight, all the little bones grind together, searing his nerves and making his skin go tight and it’s been...so...fucking long that Klaus loses his composure for just a second, breathless and stupid and so terribly turned on. Nnng .
They’re all very fucked up, okay? But they’re fucked up together . They’re broken pieces, missing pieces, but they come together. They’re going to come together.
Then, Ben takes Diego’s dick out.
Diego throws his head back, knocking hard into Klaus jaw and Klaus doesn’t mean to hold him tighter - kinks like strangulation should be communicated extensively before engaged - but he’s also holding Klaus’ arm in place. It’s not enough to cut off his air supply, but the threat - the promise- seems to be enough for kink-baby Diego.
“Show him Benny,” Klaus instructs, through a terrible, vicious smile. “Bet you he’ll get off faster than you, Bentacles. You think?”
“No, not at all, definitely not, are you fucking kidding right now,” Ben says, honestly, even as Diego wheezes a sharp, “ fuck you. ”
“Ah ah, deviants don’t get to argue,” Klaus admonishes him, forcing himself to sound light and not seconds from fucking the chair. He slaps Diego very lightly --degradation over pain- on the face, watches precome well up at the tip of his dick, watches Ben’s eyes get wider as he licks his lips - ugh, such a good fucking boy. Klaus sort of can’t wait until Ben suggests cock-sucking. I mean - he’s going to fucking wait but God . He cannot fucking wait. “Unless they want to tap out.”
Diego laces his fingers with Klaus’s, maybe to keep him from slapping him again, maybe to break his fucking knuckles. Either way, he does it even as he fucks up into Ben’s fist. “Make him---with his other hand---”
“We don’t make Benny do anything,” Klaus tells him, helplessly breathless now. “He does them because he wants too. Because he’s a good boy. Ben?”
Ben doesn’t - maybe can’t - say anything at all. But he does spit into his other palm before wrapping it around Diego’s dick. “ Fuck, fuck, fuck .”
“You take much longer and I’m going to get bored ,” Klaus drawls, like he isn’t grinding up against antique Bergère velvet. “Maybe Benny’s not doing a good enough job?” It’s a double edge sword, Klaus knows - knows by the way wounded way Ben looks up at him suddenly, cheeks a pretty pink, mouth open. “Is that it?”
“No, no, no,” Diego rushes out, hand slipping where it’s still gripping the arm of the couch. “No - no he’s fucking perfect. You’re fucking perfect. Shit. Fuck . I---I---” Diego closes his eyes and Klaus doesn’t even know where to look. Ben or Diego - they’re both making for very attractive and distracting pictures. “He’s grinding up against my fucking shin. He’s fucking hard .”
“Of course he is,” Klaus says, with a breathless laugh. If this were a different kink, he’d call Ben a bad boy and tell him he wasn’t allowed to come until Klaus said. But that’s not the name of the game, and Ben, no matter what, will always be a good boy to Klaus. “Because he’s doing so good,” he says, with a sweetness that borders on mocking but always makes Ben super rabbity, super wet. “I, for one, absolutely love it when he comes in his pants. Love it,” Klaus says, emphasizing the words with wet, smacking kisses to Diego’s face. “Do you know why?”
“ F--f--filthy ,” Diego manages, and Ben looks about five seconds from deciding he’s ready to suck dick. “It’s fucking filthy.”
“Yes,” Klaus agrees. “It really fucking is. And it feels so fucking good. Baby boy never disappoints.”
Ben, who genuinely never disappoints Klaus, and who is terribly, terribly smart and intuitive - catches Klaus eyes and very deliberately spits on Diego’s dick. Diego comes so fast it makes Klaus’ balls draw up in sympathy and that seems to be all Ben needs, spilling before Diego’s come has time to drip down his hands.
“Shit,” Klaus says. “Christ, Ben. That was---”
But, before Klaus can tell Ben exactly what that was - fucking gorgeous - Luther makes...a noise. Ben vanishes with an audible pop, and Diego scrambles to cover his dick, yanking his stupid turtle neck down with his one free hand. Klaus is still hard, and boner-stupid, so he doesn’t actually manage to detangle himself from Diego before Luther is blinking his eyes open.
“What the hell guys,” Luther says, and Klaus has something sharp, something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue in defense, something about Allison, something about monkey-sex, but Luther continues before he can speak. “Can’t you guys ever just get along?” He pushes up from the couch and stares down at Diego. “How’d Klaus even get you in a headlock?”
“I am a man of many talents,” Klaus argues, making no move to release Diego. Diego, who is obviously come-drunk. “Now leave, so we can finish this argument like men.”
“Whatever,” Luther grumbles, leaving like the big, innocent, ignorant lunk he is. “You’re both fucking weird.”
Diego turns his head up just as Klaus looks down at him, and they’re both wide eyed, with four brows raised between them. He’s not...He’s not really sure who kisses who, but it hardly matters. He’s fucking kissing Diego. Wild .
“B--Ben,” Diego manages to sputter out and it’s sweet, it’s just really fucking sweet of Diego to think of Ben. “What about Ben?”
“He’s probably watching, he’s a bigger creep than you are,” Klaus tells him, while leading him bodily down on the couch. Klaus scrambles right over the back, plonking himself roughly down onto Diego’s spent dick. “I viscerally need to come. I don’t require viewer participation, but you are more than welcome to help.”
“Can I like --- Ben in the hall, before. You were---” He can’t even fucking say it, without his cheeks burning a dull red. “Uh. Fucking his fist.” But he can say it. And it sounds like a fantastic idea.
“Why the hell not,” Klaus says, gamely, like he isn’t dying inside for someone to touch his dick already. “You’re such a fucking creep, I fucking love it.” Makes him feel a little better about himself, if it’s being honest. A little, not much, but Klaus does love a little nugget of superiority now and then, and hey - Diego’s into it, so why the hell now.
Diego’s hands are bigger than Ben's. Klaus spits into them for Diego, and feels an interested little twitch from Diego’s dick, where Klaus is fuckin’ sitting on it. He leans forward, curling himself over Diego, to brace both hands on the arm of the couch for leverage.
“How fast I come is entirely up to you,” Klaus lies.
Diego takes it for a challenge though, wrapping both is big stupid hands around Klaus at once and God . His grip is firm, and calloused and he twists each hand in opposite direction to match Klaus thrust. “Oh,” Klaus says, biting his own fucking lip. “Oh---fuck. Yeah that’s good. Shit. I really thought it would be harder to get you to touch my dick, I was pretty good with just coming on your face or something. ”
“You can ---uh. Do that. If you want too,” Diego manages to sputter out, doing something with his palm over the head of Klaus dick that makes him see actual fucking stars.
He’s...He’s fucking up into Diego’s fists, with the explicit intent to make as much of a mess as possible. Ben’s probably watching. Benny needs praise. Diego needs to give in to imperfection. Klaus needs them both to need him. They’re a fucking mess, but they’re a mess together and it’s so fucking good. It’s so fucking good.
He hopes, whenever he fucking is, that Sir knows.
He fucking hopes he's disappointing. Klaus hopes he's disappointing and disgusted and horrified.
Look at all these shiny toys you bought and broke, he thinks, as he comes straight up Diego's chest, across his open, panting mouth.
Klaus hopes, with the petty, vicious, blue-burn manic mist, that Sir is fucking haunted by it.