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Okay, so Klaus can’t say this is the first time he’s gotten his dick sucked in an alley. It’s not even his first time getting his dick sucked in this alley.
But it is the first time he’s ever seen Diego from this angle and he looks so fucking good. Klaus is just...Not a good enough person to deserve something so prismatically phenomenal. Diego is gold against gray, miles of sunshine skin to contrast the many and varied shades of trash that surround them. There’s a heady sort of power growing from the way he’s curling his rough hands Klaus’ calves, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, searching for direction . Klaus hadn’t really meant to put him there, but he’d gone so easy, kneeling in the filth with nothing but the gentle press of Klaus’ hand on his shoulder. He looks out of place, the crisp cotton of his t-shirt too clean, the soles of his shoes to fresh. So no, he hadn’t meant to shove Diego into the dirt. He’d meant to apologize, for Ezra’s shit - but then there was Diego, shoving him hard up against the jagged, crumbling brick and licking his way into Klaus’ half-open mouth like he hadn’t hesitated to kiss him only just this morning. Klaus’ apology gets tossed aside like the broken glass and greasy bits of paper surrounding them.
He’d have done a better job at apologizing. At taking Diego home, away from the filthy of Klaus reckless past. Except, Diego goes and fucks that up. Diego gets off on them being brothers. “ Get on your knees .”
It’s not a shocker - Diego gets off on reckless filth, and brother-fucking is pretty high on the list. Yes, they’re adopted, but Diego’s not wrong. They’re brothers. They were raised together, they call the same robot Mom, they’re brothers. Adoptive brothers are still brothers; in this, they just touch each other's genitals. So yeah - it’s no big surprise that Diego gets off on it, Klaus just hadn’t expected it would get him going too.
When he’d seen Ezra spilled all pretty in that bar seat, making eyes at Diego with his borrowed smirk - Klaus had been filled with the sudden and violent urge to crawl right back into Diego’s lap and ride him for the fucking world to see. He’s not the jealous sort, never stuck around long enough to form any kind of possessive feelings, but Diego’s different. That’s his brother, and some shit is just sacred. Ezra never could figure out if he wanted to fuck Klaus or be Klaus and Klaus was vain enough to monopolize on that confusion and let him try both. He might have put up with Ezra dicking his way through a full remake of Klaus’ little black book, he’s a fucking gift like that, he’s a giver, he’s a gem---- but that's his fucking brother. And for a terrible, terrible minute, Klaus knew Diego could get everything he wanted from Ezra, all the depravity, the degradation, the release, without having to fuck his brother. Except. Except.
Diego very much wants to fuck his brother.
So he’s very much thinking with his dick when he puts Diego on his knees, jagged stone still digging into his back. If it were anyone else - if it were Ezra - he’d have his dick halfway down a throat by now, but this is Diego, and Diego is special . New, and soft and a little bit scared. Klaus is straight fucking sick for it. “You wanna go back home?”
“No.” It’s said without stutter, but he’s still shaking like he’s exposed under Klaus’ palm and its---
It’s not so different than Ben, really. Diego wants , and Klaus can provide. Just because he wants it too - that doesn’t make it selfish. That makes it kismet . It’s too good, and he wants it so much and so he can’t...he can’t let himself forget again.
“Of course not. Of course, I forgot.” He forgot himself, weak to that fluttery, wide-eyed look Diego held on him. Weak to the press of Diego’s body against his own, the heat of him, the scars and calluses and keen eyes. Klaus lets his hand slide from Diego’s hair, to cup his face. He presses his thumb to Diego’s mouth until he opens until he sucks like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. Diego’s not his boy though, doesn’t want soft pets and pretty words. Diego’s his brother . “You’re just a dumb slut, and you don’t know what you fucking want.”
It’s...it’s too much, the way Diego shakes, and nods, and gags on Klaus' fingers, desperate hungry starving for more. Klaus breathes in as carefully as he can, teeth clenched hard enough to break. “So I need to tell you,” he says, careful quiet as he eases his thumb out of Diego’s mouth, leaving a trail of his own spit across his cheek, and chin. Fuck . “I need to use you.”
Diego’s watches with those big brown eyes of his, as Klaus eases his cock from his jeans with a ginger hand because shiiiiit . He’s a sick fuck with pretty brothers who just don’t know any better who need Klaus to protect them and he’s so fucking hard for being needed, so goddamn hungry for it. “Oh fuck .” He looks between Klaus as his cock. “I---I don’t---”
“You’ll learn,” Klaus tells him, dragging the head of his cock across Diego’s cheek, all soft skin and scratching stubble. “Or you’ll gag - either way, open your fucking mouth, yeah?” Oh God - if Diego actually does it, Klaus is gonna fucking lose it.
Diego shudders, sitting back hard on his calves, mouth falling open, soft and pliant. Klaus just honestly wishes there was a normal way to tell your brother how good he is at being a slut. A greeting card, or something. Singing telegram. Carrier pigeon. Shit .
As it is, all Klaus can do is try not to come. Diego’s impatient, Diego’s Diego , and when Klaus doesn’t move quick enough for his liking, he turns his head, soft tongue dragging over the head of Klaus cock. Shit .
Klaus is in control though. Klaus is--- totally in control.
(Diego’s sucking him off in an alley)
It’s just---it’s been a fucking minute since he got his dick sucked okay, give him a minute, a fucking a grace period, it feels so fucking good. There’s something disproportionately innocent in the inexperience, and it adds to the adventure a veneer of absolute obscenity . Klaus cups Diego’s chin very gently in one hand, and yanks Diego’s hair with the other. He eases Diego down on him, inch by inch, until he’s hitting the back of his sputtering throat and even that feels good. Diego, being the persistent fuck that he is, pushes right back down, a furrow in his brow painting a picture of discouragement, like how dare he fail to deep throat on his very first excursion into dick sucking, golly gosh what a fucking loser.
It’s very Diego and more than enough to get Klaus’ head out of his own ass. He pulls Diego away, by his hair. “Ah, ah, ah. You choke when I choke you.” He lets his fingers gentle, nails scraping over the scalp. “This is my first blow job in almost a fucking year. It’s not about you at all.”
It’s a massive fucking lie, a gigantic huge gaping lie. If it wasn’t about Diego, Klaus would be in his throat already, getting off on the flutter of his gasping, gagging mouth. He’d have both hands in Diego’s hair, guiding him to a rhythm he’d struggle to follow. He wouldn’t be thumbing open Diego’s pretty mouth and easing himself inside, dragging the bottom of his cock along a soft, plaint tongue. He wouldn’t be fucking himself forward in shallow, hungry thrusts, wouldn’t be biting his lip so hard it fucking hurts. Diego doesn’t need to know that. Because Klaus is absolutely in control here.
“I wanna---”
“I know what you want.” Klaus has to laugh, doesn’t he? At the absurdity of Diego, on his knees on a blanket of filth. Klaus cups his chin and digs his fingers into his cheek. Diego settles , shifting back to rest more weight on his calves. “I’ll give it to you, Gogo. You just gotta take it. ”
Diego, in true Diego-fashion, glares, baleful and proud. Klaus just laughs and presses his cock in a little deeper, reveling in the wild, lightning-bolt pleasure that eats him up when Diego lets him, with a soft tongue, and an open mouth. It’s not the best blow job he’s ever had, but the experience is unlike anything else. Because it’s Diego.
It’s his goddamn brother.
Klaus has always got a little thrill at fucking over Sir. At every little deviancy, from painting his nails to working for money. Sucking a dick, snorting coke, ignoring every ghost. It all felt good in a petty way, in a vicious way and it was every bit as addictive as pills or booze. Klaus has been reveling in filth and decadence for years now, waking up in the morning with a belly full of come and a deep sense of vindication. He’d made a whole life out of being the biggest disappointment, but it was never enough. It wasn’t enough to be disappointing, never scratched the itch inside him. Sir to Diego on his knees with his lush mouth open, looking up with heat in his eyes - it’s good.
God, is it good.
Sir never loved him, any of them. Looking down at his brother’s big, bright eyes, Klaus knows what it is he’d been missing so long. He doesn’t want to settle for being Sir’s disappointment . He wants to haunt Sir in his grave. Wants to rattle his rotting fucking bones. He wants to devastate him. He wants to be his biggest fucking regret. It feels good .
With the drag of his brother's tongue pushing insolently up against the head of his cock, Klaus sighs, shuddering with the whole of his body. He still has a hand cupped under Diego’s jaw, but he’s let Diego shift, let Diego lower himself down another inch, take it so pretty, so uncertain. He touches Diego’s head, a palm over the back of his neck like a promise, and when he speaks, he speaks quietly - the night demands nothing else.
“If only daddy could see you now.” It’s a dangerous line to throw, in truth. Diego has daddy issues, and they’re deep and they’re fetid. Klaus wants to put his fingerprints all over them. “Huh? What do you think he’d say, Gogo? Rhetorical question - don’t stop .” Diego doesn’t. He seals his lips over Klaus, sucks just enough to make his knees shake and lets his hands slide up Klaus' thighs. “Ugh - Fuck. Yeah. You think he’d say a good job, Number Two?” He can feel Diego tense, feel the coil of his body wind at the words, but Klaus doesn’t let him voice an opinion, doesn’t let him make his ire known. He pushes in hard, holds Diego down for just a little tiny second and when he lets up, Diego pulls off with a spit-soaked gasp. Klaus pumps his cock with a very light hand because of reasons . “You done already? Hold still, I want to come on your---”
And just like he knew he would, Diego swallows him down again, the edge of his teeth nipping at Klaus' hand when he doesn’t move his fingers away fast enough. He chokes himself, and Klaus pulls his hair, hard and twisting, easing him down more slowly, tipping his head just enough for Klaus to bump along the back of his throat.
“Ah fuck,” he mutters, letting his own head fall back against the bricks. Diego has the gist of it now, setting a sloppy, amateur rhythm. He gets a hand around Klaus, and that's--- that’s a fucking game changer. “Shit, Gogo. I wish Dad could see you like this. You look so fucking good. Daddy should have put you on your knees sooner, you’d have been number one.”
Diego shudders, tongue fluttering where it’s dragging along the underside of Klaus cock and that's just--- shit . “Don’t,” he says roughly, but he doesn’t extrapolate. Doesn’t tell Klaus what it isn’t he shouldn’t do.
Klaus decides, gently, that it just might mean don’t stop.
“Don’t what?” He asks, smacking his cock against the corner of Diego’s mouth. Diego takes it with a new sort of fever, head bobbing all eager and wet. “Don’t tell you how much I’d love to come all over you. Don’t tell you how I’m gonna fuck your mouth so often, use you so good you’ll never gag again?” Oh my God - but if Diego actually let him? Diego might actually let him.
Given the sound Diego makes anyway - he just might. “ Nnnngh .” It vibrates through him and settles in Klaus fucking balls.
“Don’t talk about Daddy?” Klaus ventures, wrapping his hand around Diego's at the base of his cock and showing him just how he likes it. “I’ll fucking summon him right now, let him see what else I can fucking ruin. God, Diego - I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”
For the first time, in a long time, Klaus is really looking forward to it.
Diego surges forward, nose bumping against Klaus pelvic bone, and he can fucking---He can fucking feel the flutter of Diego’s throat when he chokes and gawd fucking shit damn christ nnnngh----
“What ---” Klaus pants, yanking Diego off his goddamn dick and holy shit, that’s a thing that's happening. Diego fights him a little - he wouldn’t be Diego if he didn’t - pulling against Klaus grip. “What did I say?”
“Fucking let me---” He grits his teeth, turning his head just so as Klaus drags his dick across the curve of his jaw, smearing spit and not an inconsiderable amount of precome. “Let me choke.”
“I will,” Klaus promises, instead of telling him no because Diego doesn’t do no , and Klaus is a known liar. He’s not going to let him choke. Not yet. That's not beginner shit, no matter how badly Diego is legitimately gagging for it, the little slut. “But I gotta tell you, brother mine. I love how much you want too.”
“I do,” Diego insists, snarling a little when Klaus drags his cock across his mouth even as he speaks, pulling away before Diego can have him. “Klaus, fucking---let me.”
“No,” Klaus says, imperiously. He leans back against the brick, takes his dick off and away from Diego’s precocious mouth, and smiles down at his brother. “No, see - that’s too easy. And I’m not interested in punishing you, Gogo. And I’m not here so you can punish yourself.” Klaus has no interest in being the knife Diego cuts himself on. “I’m here to show you how good it feels to give in. So you’re going to sit back, open your mouth, and hold very still. Anything else---I tuck myself right back into these jeans, and you get nothing.”
“I’m not like Ben,” Diego says, with grit to his jaw. “I’m not interested in being good .”
“That’s probably for the better since you’re shit at it. And conveniently, I’m not looking for a good boy right now. I’m looking for a dumb slut to suck me off in an alley. Now that could be you,” he says, very sweetly, tapping his spit-sticky head of his cock against Diego’s cheek. “Or any number of nameless fucks in that club. Which one’s it gonna be?”
Waaaay to much bravado. The idea of pulling some sweaty little club monkey while entirely sober is absolutely daunting. Klaus could pull someone else, without so much as a word, but the whole thing sounds tedious and uninspiring. It won’t be as good. It won’t be as fulfilling , as obscene. It won’t be as pretty, as pleasing, as dark. He could march right back inside and put Ezra on his knees, fuck the visage of his own face in some petty streak of vanity and it would be good, but it wouldn’t be quite as deviant as pushing himself inside Diego’s pouting mouth. Please let it be you.
“Don’t want you to go easy on me.” Diego settles in though, putting both his hands behind his back and Klaus things - he probably has handcuffs, somewhere in that lair of his. It’s a thought. “I don’t need you to fucking baby me, I’m not Ben---”
Klaus laughs. Going easy on Diego would be giving him what he wants, but he’s too new for that, too green and soft and clean. Sexual deviancy has a learning curve; Klaus has to teach him. God, Klaus wants to teach him. He wants someone to understand, and there’s something in Diego that calls to it. To getting so low, nothing can hurt you. The balm found in pain, in hedony . “When you can finally just sit back and enjoy yourself, Diego---then I’ll think about letting you gag on my fucking cock, okay?” It’s mean, harsh like a sunrise hangover, and it makes his belly ache and his palms itch all the same. It makes him want to say sorry, but he’s not sorry. Not really. Not when Diego’s looking at him like that. That makes Klaus want to press a little more, the same way pushing down on a bruise feels good in a deep, and aching way. “But until then - you’re just another hole for me to stick my dick in if you’re lucky .”
Oh God.
The way Diego’s lashes flutter, the way his throat works on a dry, achy swallow, so clearly hungry for it, so desperately wanting, doesn’t he know that Klaus is fucking weak for it, doesn’t he know Klaus is hungry too, Klaus is---
Klaus is in control. Tentative, tender, hungry control. “Now are you gonna be lucky, or not?”
Wordlessly, Diego opens his mouth.
Somewhere, wherever the dead go, Klaus hopes Sir is fucking raging.
It’s palpably different, as he eases his cock back into Diego’s mouth. There’s a stiffness to his tongue, a slippery little rebellion and Klaus fucking loves it - it’s Diego after all. He fucks against Diego’s tongue, a hand curled loosely around the base of his cock and it’s fine and shallow torture. An itch you can’t quite reach and Klaus fucking rides it for a long time. He’s old hat at drawing it out, a fine little demon when it comes to edging. He drags it on and on and on until Diego’s making these hurt little noises, palms pressed flat against his own thighs, fighting the urge to lean into it, to do more. His jaw trembles and his tongue’s gone soft and Klaus could come like this, given enough time but he knows Diego won’t make it.
He pulls Diego away again - and the soft, gusty little whimper could have come from either of them, honestly, but regardless- Klaus already wants to hear it again. He urges Diego up, gets a little distracted by the puffy, pink, swollen line of his mouth, forgets himself in a sloppy, salty kiss.
Diego swallows, wincing a little at the ache in his jaw probably. “I---I---I---”
And well, Klaus has to kiss the stutter off his mouth, doesn’t he? And he means to stop it there, means to take this little rodeo home where he can spread Diego out, where he doesn’t have to admit that it takes him a while to come from a blowy, but that time can be put to good use, maybe with a few fingers up either of their asses - but Diego has other ideas.
Diego’s kissing him again, frantic and messy and Klaus means to---He means to stop him, honestly expect Diego’s kissing him in the exact way that Klaus just really needs right now. He manages to get is hands on Diego’s jeans, manages to get his button undone, his zipper down. They’re not as tight as Klaus’ own, but getting his hand in them is still a straight fucking job and Diego---Diego fucking kisses him through all of it.
“I can’t---” He manages to sputter, as he gets his hand around his brother’s cock (fatter than his own, but not as long). “Fuck---I can’t---I can’t---”
Diego...Doesn’t stop kissing him. Klaus acknowledges the tactical error in supplying your enemy with weapons. Not that Diego’s the enemy, he’s just making it really hard to think, when he’s got a hand on Klaus dick, and two lungfuls of Klaus air supply. Kissing is absolutely a weapon though.
Diego keeps a steady pace, stroking firm from tip to base, fucking his tongue into Klaus' mouth at the exact same tempo and yeah. Diego might be a little new to fucking his brother, but he’s not a virgin and Klaus really should - remember that. Diego knows what he’s doing, has handled his own cock long enough to have a solid grasp (ha!) on how to handle Klaus. It’s good - it’s more than good, but it’s not what’s getting Klaus off, right now. At least, not entirely.
Klaus can’t breathe.
And Diego knows .
“Fuck,” he sputters, breathlessly, but there’s no respite. Diego gets his mouth back on him, kisses a little deeper as he fucks helplessly up into Klaus fist and God---
He can feel it creeping in at the corners of his vision, a speckled black haze that makes his heart beat in overdrive but his head goes empty and quiet. He can’t even - he’s not doing any sort of service to hand-jobs, can’t keep a rhythm, can’t even keep a fist. He feels his knees go out, but Diego’s there, pressing the bulk of himself against Klaus, pinning up against the sharp, biting brick. There’s a minute moratorium where Klaus whole body and brain disconnect completely. He comes, sputtering and violent, in the absence of space between their bodies and then he’s just---gone.
He passes out. It’s been so long.
When he comes back, Diego’s still holding him up, coming with shaking, broken sobs, against their bellies, mouth pressed to the curve of Klaus neck and that---- Fuck.
He holds Klaus face with a soft touch and rough palms and his big brown eyes look worried. “Shit - shit - did I---I didn’t mean too---”
“Buh,” Klaus manages to say, slipping a little against the brick. It’s...Been a while. Since he’s done that. And it feels more intense with the absence of drugs or booze. It feels like flying. “ Fuck .”
Diego bites at his own, swollen lip. “You okay?”
“Fuck,” Klaus says again and it’s not - it’s not helpful. He feels himself wobble a little, slumping forward, face smashed against Diego’s shoulder. “M’fine.”
“You passed out.” Diego’s still awkwardly supporting the entirety of Klaus weight against his chest and there’s just...honestly nothing to be done about it. “I didn’t---I got carried away. I shouldn't have--- but you were just so---”
“You were perfect.” Because Diego needs firm, direct reinforcement and Klaus is too sloppy to lie right now anyway. “Can you uh---do me a solid and put my junk back in my pants because buttons are beyond me right now but turtle dick freaks me out, okay, I’m a grower, not a shower.”
It gets a very hesitant chuckle out of Diego, but it also gets his dick put back in his pants, so small mercies. “That was...” He doesn’t seem to have the appropriate adjectives though, and he looks at Klaus for help, like maybe they can mad-lib this together and come up with some tertiary description for what it’s like to choke-out your brother with your own fucking mouth.
Jesus Fucking Christ - Klaus can’t even wrap his head around it. Diego just sexually asphyxiated him with kissing .
“That was...Okay?”
“You’re fucking hot,” is the first corporeal sentence Klaus manages, still breathless and very much weak-kneed. “Like --- I keep forgetting you’re fucking hot because of the turtle necks, but shit , Diego. That was---I mean. Fuck.” Oh good. He’s babbling. “That was too hot for turtlenecks. Your body is wasted on you.”
Diego laughs, very lightly, just a little huff warmer than the cooling air of one in the morning. “We can’t all pull off fishnet crop tops.”
Okay but - Diego totally has a leather-daddy vibe going on. He could pull of fishnet. Even better, he could pull them off of Klaus. “You can pull them off of me.”
“You don’t have to hit on me,” Diego reminds him, scooping an arm around Klaus' waist and bodily moving him to the parking lot at the end of the alley. “I think we’ve established we’re both kind of easy.”
“Which is expected of me! You wear turtlenecks. You can’t hold me accountable for forgetting you’ve got like---actual game.” The manhandling is kind of nice. Diego is solid and warm, and Klaus is sleepy and sore, so it’s easy to lean against him, lay his head on Diego’s shoulder. “I keep thinking I’m going to have to like - hold your hand through everything and then you go and do things like eating my ass and kissing me unconscious. Oh God - don’t you dare blush. You licked your own come off my ass, you don’t get to blush.”
“Have you ever thought you just inspire that kind of obscenity?” It’s asked through clenched teeth. Diego’s fingers are digging into Klaus' hip and he hopes very badly that they bruise. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Gogo. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He turns his head and licks Diego’s jaw, smiling. “But I know the truth.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Luther was a virgin until he was nearly fucking thirty and you ,” Klaus says, bumping Diego with his hip. “Are a kinky little bitch.”
“Maybe,” Diego says, with a quiet little laugh. At some point, the hand he’d gripped Klaus hip with has drifted to dig itself in Klaus’ back pocket. Diego’s fucking---feeling up on him. In a parking lot. The fucking slut. “I don’t know. You made it look fun.”