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Klavier is surprised to learn that Apollo is into some really kinky shit—or, something like that. It’s a bit complicated.
He’s usually so nervous, so careful. He shouts a lot, but anyone can tell that he’s being loud to fend off his insecurities rather than actually trying to establish some sort of dominance. Apollo just isn’t that dominant.
This is especially true when it comes to intimacy.
He’d been wary of bringing it up due to how Apollo acted normally. Light touches drew out gasps and looks of panic. Innocent advances such as a peck on the cheek had him flinching away, leaving him shaking. Even trying to take his hand could be difficult depending on what mood he was in. It’s obvious someone had harmed him in the past. He acted more like a suspect at the precinct than he did his boyfriend.
But, the mere suggestion brought something else out of him. Something decidedly un-Apollo-like.
Klavier stares down at where Apollo has fallen to his knees. He’s shaking—no—trembling. Apollo looks back up at him with an expression that can not be distinguished. It looks like he’s in fear, but at the same time, his eyes plead desperately for something.
Anything.
“Will you…allow me to…”
“…Allow?”
“I—” He bows completely to the ground, forehead touching the carpet. “I can’t do anything without your permission. So, if you’d please…”
He had assumed that Apollo was a virgin, but this…well…
His behavior is making Klavier uncomfortable. It’s one thing to enjoy certain roles, but Apollo is jumping into the extreme end of things without even a word of discussion.
Klavier kneels in front of him, sliding a hand underneath his chin and lifting his face. He looks up at him with a softened expression, lost eyes. It would have been cute if he hadn’t been acting like this.
“Schatz, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
His response is immediate and desperate, panicked even.
“No—I want to. I really want to.”
“Ah…I’m just concerned. We haven’t talked about…this. I wanted to throw the idea out there, but these roles have to be properly discussed…”
Apollo’s eyes are becoming glassy. He looks heartbroken, as if he’d interpreted Klavier’s hesitation as rejection rather than caution.
“I’ll do anything you want me to—Klavier.”
(He had to pause as if he hadn’t known which name to say. The realization makes Klavier feel dirty, like he’s doing something wrong to him.)
“Schatz…”
“And, you can do anything to me. I don’t care. I want you.”
Apollo had never before been so insistent on anything. Not emotional intimacy, not physical intimacy, not date plans, not what food they should buy, not when they should go to bed, not what TV show to watch, not anything. It isn’t like he doesn’t care or doesn’t complain about things, it’s just that Apollo has never asserted his wishes so forcefully on anything they did together, which only makes this display of willful submission more haunting.
Klavier decides to use a different approach.
“What if I gave you anything you wanted?” He’s trying to make it sound seductive and not a probing question about Apollo’s intentions. “I can make you feel very good, if you let me.” He brushes his thumb over his cheekbone.
Apollo grows red.
“I—uh—I’m…” His breath shutters. Klavier may have unintentionally stumbled over genuine desire and not something he’s been told to say by someone who isn’t interested in mutual affection. “What would—what would that…um…”
Klavier leans forward, going in for a kiss, but he pauses before they actually meet, a whisper on his breath.
“What is it you want, Apollo?”
His lips tremble. It’s as if he’s using all of his willpower to not close the distance between them.
“…You. I want you. You can do…whatever you want…”
A strikeout. He pulls away again, and Apollo sits there looking flustered.
“No, I want you to say what you want. The only thing I want is for you to have a good time.”
This seemingly does not compute in Apollo’s mind. He opens his mouth and closes it again, eyes shifting to the side and eyebrows furrowing.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
What? Never? Is that possible? Even the most innocent of people have at least had the basic idea cross their minds. Sure, there may be those out there who don’t want to have sexual relationships, but for a person who instantly collapsed to his knees at the mere idea, that’s very unlikely to be the case.
“No? Not once?”
Apollo looks uncomfortable. He scratches at his arm and frowns.
“I mean, I usually just go along. I don’t really care. I like it better if I’m forced to do things.”
Forced? What?
That’s not the appropriate word to use in this scenario. It’s one thing to act out scenes, but that discussion is way more complicated than simply being made to do things without setting boundaries and rules.
Klavier feels dread pooling in his stomach.
“…You know you shouldn’t have to be…forced. Right?”
He shrugs.
“I-I mean, it’s not that I don’t like it. I want to be made to—” He stops talking, as if he realizes mid-sentence that what he’s saying sounds awful. “I mean, it’s easier to let someone do what they want. I don’t really want to think about it. It’s too embarrassing, and it makes me feel gross.”
This conversation has turned much darker than Klavier thought possible. He thought he had trouble asserting himself, not that all of his sexual experiences had occurred regardless of his desires—or even in spite of them.
(It’s not that Apollo doesn’t have desires because it’s not possible for someone who wants to have sex to not have any opinion on what happens. That’s…insane. That’s as if you’re a toy for someone else to use. No, Klavier knows with certainty that Apollo has repressed anything he might actually want in order to normalize whatever has happened to him. If it’s normal to not care, then he doesn’t have to acknowledge that maybe…he’s been taken advantage of.)
He takes Apollo’s hand and holds it carefully, like he’s made of the finest and most fragile china.
“I only wanted to share another part of myself with you. It’s supposed to be fun and something you really want to do. If you have doubts, or you aren’t comfortable, or you feel pressured, then you should say no.”
Something flickers in Apollo’s eyes—something scared. Maybe it’s a memory, or maybe it’s a thought. It’s quick, and Klavier barely sees it. Maybe he’s imagining things.
“But, what if you want to? Then, that’s not very fair of me.”
“That’s not fair of you? Apollo, I would never want to put you in a position where my needs come before your wellbeing.”
“My wellbeing…”
“Yes. Your wellbeing.”
“If I say no, you might not like me anymore.” He looks very sad when he says it.
“What? No, no, no. Absolutely not. I will always like you. Saying no is always an option.”
Apollo is silent again. He looks like he’s mulling over the whole discussion. It must be very difficult to accept that what you thought was a universal truth is actually something that you had been trained to believe by someone with bad intentions.
(You can’t say no/You don’t matter/What you want doesn’t matter/What you feel doesn’t matter/Your pleasure doesn’t matter/Your pain doesn’t matter/Your self and your body and your boundaries don’t matter, and you should probably forget you were ever autonomous because if you don’t, you’ll realize how deeply I’m trying to hurt you, and it’ll be too much, and you won’t be able to take it.)
“I guess I have no idea what I want.”
“And, that’s okay, too. You can take time and think about it. And, if anything comes to mind, you can ask.”
He shutters again. “Ugh, that makes me feel gross, too.”
“If it makes you feel gross, it’s not the right time. Never think you should do something just for my sake. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
Klavier is visibly surprised. How can such a simple question be so disturbing?
“Why?” he parrots back.
Apollo nods.
“Ach…well, it’s upsetting when your partner isn’t feeling good, ja? What’s good about it is that you both like each other and want to express that in a different way than words. If the person your with doesn’t like what you’re doing, and you keep going regardless, that’s—”
“Rape.”
Klavier frowns hard. The word sounds so cold and clinical coming from his mouth.
“Ja. That’s not what sex is. Not at all.”
Apollo’s eyes have grown distant. He’s not emoting at all. He says, “And, if you tell them to stop, and they don’t, that’s rape.”
“Yes.”
“And, if they don’t tell you what they’re going to do, and you can’t say no because you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know you don’t want to keep going, that’s also…”
“Yes. You’re describing assault.”
“Oh.” He still doesn’t look upset. He looks numb. “I thought that was how it was.”
Klavier can feel his heart breaking in his chest.
“No, Schatz. No, no, no. It’s always a choice. Always. Even if you’ve already said yes. Even if you’ve said yes before. Even if you just don’t feel like it. It is always, always a choice, and if someone is making you feel like you don’t have one, that person is trying to hurt you.”
“Oh.”
Klavier isn’t sure if Apollo is simply not upset or trying to pretend he’s not. He turns his head away and stands. Klavier does as well.
“I…I think I’m gonna go. I need some time.”
“Of course,” Klavier smiles.
He is surprised when Apollo flings his arms around him and pulls him into his chest. There’s something different in the embrace, and Klavier hesitates before returning it. It’s nice, and he can tell, for some reason, that it’s something Apollo genuinely wants.
Hm.
It’s a few days later that Apollo comes into Klavier's office and flops on the couch next to him as he’s reading over some case files. He gently snakes his arms around one of Klavier’s, leaning his head on his shoulder.
“Ah, hallo, Herr Forehead.” He kisses him on said forehead.
“Hey.”
Klavier traces his fingers across his temple and behind his ear as if there’s a hair out of place, admiring the soft look he’s being given.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. I missed you.”
“Missed me while I was prosecuting another case?”
“Yeah.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet. I missed you, too.”
They sit quietly for a few minutes, Apollo closing his eyes and listening to the relaxed breaths of the man beside him. There are very rarely any times in his life where Apollo feels calm, but he does now. Even though Klavier is still working, and even though Apollo is trying not to fall asleep from the exhaustion of another demanding trial, he feels so thankful for this moment of silence, this moment of affection.
But, he feels the need to begin talking.
“Thank you for being patient with me the other night.”
Klavier looks at him, eyebrows raised.
“Hm?”
“I guess it could have been bad if you let me do what I thought was alright. I’d never actually thought about it that much before. Like, it didn’t feel wrong when it was happening, but now that I’m looking back on it—I guess it was messed up. But, yeah.”
He sets his paperwork down on the coffee table. He leans down and tries to catch his line of sight when he realizes that his eyes are still closed.
“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He almost sounds nervous that Apollo would thank him for such a basic kindness—no, not kindness. It’s basic human decency. It’s sad that he thinks it’s something special that he had awarded to him. “I want you to feel safe.”
“I thought about it a lot, but I never thought that it could be more than just…something you did when people wanted it…”
“Oh, Apollo…” Klavier places a hand on his knee in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad that we talked about it.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Yeah.”
Finally, he opens his eyes and looks up at him. As much as there’s sadness somewhere in his expression, he also looks genuinely thankful.
“Can we get dinner tonight? I’m too tired to make something myself.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Klavier always gets him something fancy from some bougie sandwich place, which Apollo appreciates more for the gesture than the sandwich itself. It feels domestic in the way that when he goes over to Klavier’s apartment, there’s someone waiting for him with a gift of comfort and care. Apollo isn’t sure the last time he’d had that. Probably not since he was a little kid. If he thinks about it too hard, he gets choked up but in a good way. He’s very thankful for Klavier’s kindness, and he’s not sure what he did to deserve it.
“Hey, baby,” he smiles when he opens the door. Apollo feels himself flush at the pet name, and he flushes deeper when he gives him a kiss.
“Hiya.”
He always gets sheepish when shown such blind affection, and of course, part of that is because Klavier is so beautiful that it renders him a complete dumbass.
They eat together and talk about their respective cases, about how difficult some witnesses have been lately, about how Apollo’s been stressed because Mr. Wright’s caseload has increased substantially in the last few weeks.
“Hmm, I’m sorry, Schatz. It sounds like Herr Wright’s agency is very chaotic.”
“That’s putting it lightly. Sometimes I wonder if he’s completely insane,” he sighs.
For some reason, Klavier finds the observation funny, and his laugh is charming, and Apollo’s heart skips a beat in his chest. He’s a little embarrassed because he hadn’t meant to say anything comedic, and he wonders if he’s laughing at him.
“Wha-What’d I say?”
“Hm?” he raises an eyebrow. “Nothing really. You’re just cute.”
He’s always wondered what Klavier could possibly see in him. Klavier is literally a famous rockstar, a high profile prosecutor, and a drop-dead knockout. Apollo is only Apollo. He’s plain, drab, and awkward. He’s kinda pathetic, in his opinion. So, why does he find him cute? Why does he find him attractive? He could have anyone in the world, and he settled on him, and it doesn’t make sense.
“Am I?”
The question comes out quieter than he’d intended, and instead of coming off as flirtatious, it comes off as self-deprecating.
Klavier, obviously, has no idea what he’s talking about.
“Of course.” He grabs Apollo’s cheek and pulls in a teasing way. “My cute, little Herr Forehead.”
Apollo can’t help but giggle even though the sentiment doesn’t really make him feel better. His face falls soon after.
“I’ve always wondered why you think so.”
He blinks at Apollo, confused.
“Why I think what?”
Apollo hadn’t thought he’d have to explain further.
“Um, I mean, you’re way out of my league, to put it mildly. So—um—it’s kind of weird that you’re so into me—or—uh—I didn’t mean to put words in your mouth, but—”
“Schatz, please.” Klavier looks like he’s between being concerned and slightly amused. “I do like you. And, in the grand scheme of things, ‘leagues’ don’t really matter when you like someone.” He reaches out and grabs one of his hands. “Besides, you’re selling yourself short. You’re very attractive, if I do say so myself.”
“I mean, I’m not ugly, but if you haven’t looked in the mirror lately, you’re gorgeous.”
Klavier laughs like he’s genuinely charmed.
“Are we trying to out-complement each other?”
“No, but really. I’m just some country bumpkin, and you’re a rock star—”
“Shh, no, no, no.” He lets go of Apollo's hand so he can gently touch his cheek. “You’re so hard on yourself. Why would I keep dating you if I didn’t like you?”
“I don’t know.” And, he honestly doesn’t.
“There are lots of things to like about you, even if you don’t think so.” His thumb brushes against his cheekbone, something only Klavier does to him. “I like that you don’t care about art, and yet, you still like me. You don’t even like my music—it’s very funny. Being famous is actually very isolating at times, but I’d be lying to say that I don’t like the attention.”
“Your band isn’t why I like you.”
“I know,” he beams. “That’s why it means more to me. And, anyway, being attracted to someone isn’t only about looks. The way someone acts or moves—ach, it’s difficult to articulate. I like when you get flustered, and I like that you’re loud and your eyes get intense. That’s not to say that I don’t think you’re attractive, but…”
“That’s…sweet of you.” He gets flustered just how he likes, and part of him is glad that he likes it because Apollo hates it.
“Ja, so don’t talk so badly about yourself.” He moves his hand so his thumb gently runs over Apollo’s bottom lip, but to his surprise, Apollo shutters against the sensation. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”
“No,” he breathes. “I like it.”
“Ja?”
“Yeah.”
It’s Apollo who wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him. Klavier doesn’t mind, seeing as he reciprocates immediately. Apollo likes how things feel on his lips, which is probably weird, and Klavier’s tongue in his mouth is way too good, especially since it brushes against his own, and—ugh—it’s so hot right now for some reason. His lips are soft and he likes swapping spit and—whoa, whoa, whoa, where did that thought come from? That’s disgusting.
He breaks away from him and pants, and even though he’s not a fan of where his thoughts are going, he can’t unwrap his arms from Klavier.
“What’s wrong?” Klavier whispers.
Apollo’s breath shakes as Klavier gently kisses the soft skin of his neck. He’s been kissed there before, but it had always been hard and rough and left bruises. No one had ever acted like they cherished him more than anyone else in the world, and that idea alone sends a shock through his body, hits him deep in the stomach.
His mind is split between the part of himself that is scared and disgusted and the part that wants nothing more than to let Klavier get into his pants.
“It feels weird to like this so much.”
“It’s not weird. It’s supposed to feel good.” Klavier’s next kiss is quick and chaste. “But, we can stop if you want.”
He doesn’t want to stop, but also, he feels like a whore.
“You won’t—you wouldn’t look at me different if I—wanted to…” He looks away. “I’m afraid of…losing myself if I…give into what I…”
Klavier is so close to his face that he can’t ignore the bewilderment that crosses his eyes. Apollo often forgets that Klavier’s first language isn’t English and that he can be particularly vague when he doesn’t want say what he actually means.
“I’d never look at you different, Apollo.”
It’s so rare for him to call him by his given name. It’s intense to hear. His breath catches in his throat.
“I really want you, but it makes me feel…bad.”
It isn’t what he means, and Klavier probably takes it the wrong way because it’s the wrong thing to say to your boyfriend.
“Why?”
“Because I…no, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. It’s not you. I’ve always wanted you.”
“Are you sure?”
He sounds concerned, and that’s the last thing he wants. He wants (to be fucked super hard)—no, no. Not like that. No, he doesn’t…want…that…
Still, he replies, “Yeah,” and then repeats, “I really want you,” because he’s really horny now and even his fear of being The Worst won’t dim that.
“Then, can I take you to bed?”
Klavier’s eyes are so soft, and he doesn’t look predatory. He looks concerned or (in love), and it’s different from the leers and dark eyes he’s previously been met with.
“Yeah.”
When they stand from their chairs, Klavier says, “Wrap your legs around me.” And, Apollo doesn’t know what he means until he hoists him up off the ground. Fortunately, his body does it automatically to keep himself from falling backward, and he realizes that Klavier is strong. Apollo isn’t particularly tall, big, or heavy, but Klavier is thin enough that he didn’t realize he could do something like that.
Apollo sort of feels effeminate in this moment because the way Klavier supports his weight by holding his ass is something he’s always seen men and women do together in movies and TV shows. But, uhh, he doesn’t hate it. Actually, he likes it. Obviously, because being effeminate isn’t bad, and he’s gay, so like, it’s not like typical gender roles necessarily apply—
He knows that Klavier is trying to be careful because his touches and his kisses are soft and gentle, but also it’s a little difficult to not dump someone on a bed because gravity is like that.
“Haah—”
“I’m sorry,” Klavier looks upset, like he broke Apollo into a million pieces, but he only made a sound because his back connecting to the mattress forced the air out of his lungs.
“No…” His voice is almost like a moan because he doesn’t hate being tossed around. He likes it.
“You’re okay?”
He nods.
“So, can I kiss you?”
Apollo knows he’s depraved, but he says, “Yes,” anyway.
And, Klavier is kissing him again, and—oh, God—it shouldn’t feel this good. Almost like he can read his mind, Klavier’s hips roll against him, and Apollo realizes how turned on they both are. It’s probably why he makes a horribly miserable sound that is actually because this is so hot, God and the Holy Mother, this is so hot.
“Why do you sound upset?” Klavier asks even though they’re talking between various stages of lip-lock.
“I’m not—upset—”
“That’s a good sound?”
No, but.
“Please, I don’t want you to stop.”
“You’re—” he smiles into their kiss, “—so sweet.”
“Am I really?”
“Ja. You’re a very sweet boy.”
He used to be called that. ‘Sweet boy.’ He doesn’t know why he likes to be talked down to like that, but he does. The words and the sensation of lips on his jawbone pull a moan out of him because they’re associated with the past and the past gets him off like nothing else.
(It also frightens him to no end, but in the moment, it’s so hot to think about what he used to be. He used to be such a slut, wanting to be pounded to oblivion any time he walked into that office. At the time, it was everything he thought he wanted, but in retrospect, there was probably something fucked up about the whole thing.)
“Hmm, you like being called that?”
He breathlessly agrees. “Uh-huh.”
“My sweet boy,” Klavier says into his ear before lightly nipping and sucking on his ear lobe. His hands are trying to unfasten the buttons of his vest and shirt at the same time, leaving Apollo unable to focus on something that might upset him if done in certain ways.
It’s true that Apollo often gets triggered by various things, especially being touched in ways he doesn’t expect, which is sad for Klavier because he’s really good at that. But, forcing him to watch himself be undressed may not be the best idea, so he keeps them both occupied.
Which, Apollo certainly is occupied. Another small sound escapes him, this one more desperate than the last, more lost than the last. When Apollo’s chest is exposed, Klavier kisses his collarbones, kisses the crook of his neck, lets his hands run down his chest and along his ribs. He climbs onto him and straddles Apollo’s stomach. He leans down to give a kiss to his Adam’s apple, and his hips accidentally brush against something very…stiff.
“Ah—!” The cry is almost a flinch, his face contorting. A touch he hadn’t expected. Klavier tries to ascertain whether it was a cry of fear or pleasure.
“Did that feel good, Schatz?”
He looks visibly strained, like he’s trying desperately not to let on how he’s feeling either way.
“It’s…embarrassing…”
“How?”
He puts a hand over his eyes and chews on his lip nervously. The words he wants to say are probably too explicit for him to comfortably do so. Klavier has an inkling about what he might be embarrassed about. Turning, he sees the evidence of his arousal and distress.
He’s really hard already. Klavier can’t help but chuckle lightly.
“Oh, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Apollo shakes his head.
“You’re happy to see me, that’s all.”
Apollo can’t hold back a giggle at the joke, but he still won’t uncover his eyes. In fact, he lays a forearm over them to give his arm a rest.
“It’s a good thing. I want you to feel good.”
It’s still too embarrassing to think about all the things that are happening to him, which is why, when he feels fingers at the buckle of his belt, it suddenly dawns on him what’s going to happen next. He jumps, gasping too hard for it to be only out of surprise.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he hears Klavier say. “May I?”
Apollo stays silent for a second, thinking it over. He hasn’t had a partner since—well, since back then—and so, he’s hesitant to lose himself in that way again, especially because the memories of the past are often upsetting. But, he really likes Klavier, and he seems to care about how he feels and what he wants. He wants to give into a pretty man who treats him well, but he might get confused about which Gavin he’s fucking, and that would be really awful for both of them.
But, honestly, he doesn’t have the strength to say no. He gives him a small nod and a heavy breath. And, then, there are hands on him again.
As he’s fussing with his buckle and pants, the fleeting touches of skin contact feel so intense, like it’s going to swallow him up. When Klavier tugs his pants slightly over his hipbones and gives a light touch to the front of his underwear, he immediately jolts, crying out again.
“Ach, are you really so sensitive?”
Honestly, not really. He got used to it before, but that so often went too far that he sometimes wouldn’t feel much of anything really. Right now, he is unbearably hard and his skin feels stretched too tight over his own body, and the flutter in his chest makes it way more overwhelming than anything usually is. He’s afraid of getting too close too quickly, but if Klavier is as talented as he’s implied in the past, Apollo is going to have little choice in the matter.
He doesn’t reply to his question because there are thumbs hooked under his waistband, and he is exposed to the cool of the air, and this is really happening, isn’t it?
His moan is small when Klavier takes him into his hand, but he restrains the larger sound he’s trying not to make when he circles his thumb around the head and the ridge of him.
“Oh, you’re wet already.”
Apollo is confused because that isn’t something that’s ever been said to him before, but he feels it on Klavier’s fingers as he handles him, and it clicks in his mind.
Both of his hands cover his face now. He shakes his head, very embarrassed.
“Again, it’s a good thing. He’s very excited.”
“Don’t put it that way.”
Klavier laughs, pulling away from him and rustling in the bedside table drawer. He pulls out the lubricant (he certainly keeps it close by, that’s for sure) and squeezes some into his hand. It reminds him of when he would do the same. He had the most expensive kind that money could buy. It smelled like flowers and mint. The taste of mint still makes him gag.
This one doesn’t have a smell. He’s thankful for that.
With the lubricant, Klavier can really use his hand the way he wants, which is nice because he’s good. Really good. Like, experienced good. And, he feels nothing like him, which he is also thankful for.
“Schatz, uncover your face, would you?”
Hesitantly, he takes his hands away. His vision is a little blurry at first, but the sight of Klavier, his blonde hair unraveled and tossed behind his back and his hand teasing him, sharpens his eyesight quickly.
“Why?”
“I like to perform. It’s nicer when there’s an audience.”
And, with that, he starts moving his hand at an acceptable pace with a substantial grip. He kisses and licks at the very tip of him as if he wants to taste what has already leaked onto his stomach.
The feeling is intense, way too intense for only getting started. And, the sight of Klavier draped over his legs is something else. He has a confident air to him, like he’s really excited to put in a hard day’s work.
It gets even worse when his mouth is on him, and when he takes him deep into his throat, Apollo is the one who chokes.
“No—no, stop, please, uhn—”
He does stop. He releases him from his grip, from his mouth. He looks worried.
“What’s wrong?”
Apollo closes his eyes and pants softly.
“I’m gonna—I’m gonna come too fast if you do it like that.”
Klavier tilts his head. The worried look is replaced with something more thoughtful.
“If you need to come, you can. Or, if you don’t want to yet…whatever you want.”
His face scrunches up for a second.
“I don’t think I can help it.”
“Hmm…well, it won’t be the last time, ja?”
Knowing what he wants is not something that comes easily to him. He’s glad when he doesn’t have to be in charge, but it is a new experience trying to figure out what is best for him when he hadn’t thought about it in so long.
It’s still embarrassing, though.
He opens his eyes again but refuses to make eye contact.
“Keep going, I guess,” he mutters.
“You guess?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes. I want you to.”
The second affirmation is good enough for him, so he proceeds to go back to his previous activities. He tosses his hair over his shoulder again and takes all of him in his mouth.
Apollo clutches the blanket, head tipping back, an elongated but faint sound of surrender coming from him. Klavier feels so good. He’s warm and wet and soft, and it feels so good. And, like the last time, he feels the pressure rise inside him too quickly, and his vocalizations grow faster and more ragged as it does.
“I’m really, really close—hah—gonna come—hah—Klavier, I’m…”
Klavier looks up at him, eyes searching and asking if he’s doing a good job, which has to be rhetorical because of how much of a mess he already is.
Apollo stares back at him desperately.
And, then, it hits him. He comes, and it’s surprisingly strong for how little time it took to get off. It lasts for what feels like a long time, each shock blurring together until it fades into a dull hum in his head.
He can only pant except for the moan that escapes when Klavier pulls away. Apollo looks at him with half-lidded eyes, and Klavier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s out of breath but for another reason entirely.
“You came a lot,” he says, the intonation more matter-of-fact rather than teasing.
Embarrassing.
“It’s—uh—been a while since…y’know…” Apollo sits up, scratching the back of his head. “And, it wasn’t…bad…”
“Heh, I’m glad.”
Apollo’s clothes are still on in some fashion or another. Although his chest is exposed, he slips out of the shirt and vest still on his arms and kicks off his pants. It dawns on him that he’s naked and Klavier isn’t. It makes him uncomfortable.
“Don’t make me be the only with no clothes on,” he pouts, resisting the urge to completely turn the other way.
“Would you like to help with that?”
He doesn’t really know what that means.
“Um…I don’t know, I—I don’t—”
Klavier takes one of his hands and squeezes it, which forces him to look at his sincere blue eyes.
“Hey, are you still alright?”
His voice is so soft that Apollo feels like he can’t breathe for a second.
“Y-Yeah. Just nervous.”
“Do you want to stop?”
Apollo shakes his head.
Then, they’re tangled together once again. It’s too familiar to taste himself in someone else’s mouth, but for the moment, he can’t get himself to care. They feel too good together, kissing feels too good, and he’s still a little light-headed, so he makes a sound and Klavier replies with a fluttering breath.
Klavier’s guiding Apollo’s hands to his waist where they both tug his shirt up and off, only breaking the kiss to free the article of clothing. Apollo meets his lips again as Klavier unbuckles his own pants, and he tries and fails to get them off without having to stand. It only takes a few moments for him to hop up and get rid of the rest of his outfit before getting back on the bed. Now they’re both naked, but Apollo feels a little strange, like he should know what to do next. He freezes up, stuck under the gaze of blue eyes.
“What do you want to do?”
God, he wishes he knew the answer to that question. There are a few things he doesn’t want to do, but that’s not what he asked. He begins to babble.
“I-I don’t think I can use my mouth—but, I do like to it’s just…I’m kind of scared of it, but I don’t want to be selfish, I…”
“I never said you had to do anything. If something makes you uncomfortable, we’re not going to do it.”
“Okay.” He touches his lips, which still tingle from the previous contact. He wonders if some of the ideas he has are strange, but there’s nothing left in him that cares. “Then, can I have your hand?”
“Sure.”
He holds it out for him, and Apollo takes it. It’s warm in his grasp, and he feels his breath pick up again.
“I hope this isn’t too weird…”
The words die in his throat, so instead of explaining what he means, he decides to show him.
Apollo places Klavier’s fingers on his lips like he’d just done himself, and Klavier sort of gets the drift, so he runs his thumb across them softly, similar to how he had earlier, and even that is enough for Apollo to close his eyes and coo from the contact.
“You like that?”
He hums, taking the finger into his mouth. He enjoys how it feels to suck on it softly. Unlike the various other things that’d been forced in his mouth over the years, fingers are so much less intrusive, and he likes them much better for it.
He moves onto the next two fingers, licking them sloppily from his knuckles to the pads of his fingers, and by now, Klavier’s gotten the idea, so he slips them between his lips and lets Apollo have his way with them.
“You like using your mouth…?” Klavier murmurs, watching Apollo’s eyes open a bit, lost in some daze that has set upon him.
Apollo doesn’t respond to that, only pulls out his fingers and rubs them over his lips again, smearing saliva over them. Klavier takes back his hands and leans forward, but instead of a kiss, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, takes it into his mouth and sucks on it softly.
“Hmm…mmm…”
He lightly bites down and pulls, and Apollo gasps. Apparently, he’s really into that.
Klavier notices that Apollo’s hard again, which is good for the both of them. He gently guides him to his back and gives him another kiss before pulling away. They stare at each other, Klavier above Apollo, his hands on either side of him.
“I want to keep it simple, if that’s alright.”
“Hmm?” Apollo is lost in some other world, but his eyes focus when he speaks to him.
“I’m going to do it like this, okay?”
His hand positions both of their dicks together, and Apollo gasps when Klavier rolls his hips against him.
“Just this.” Klavier breathes out heavily. “I don’t want to jump into things too quickly.”
He rocks again, and they slide easily over each other because of lubrication and other fluids.
The feeling of himself taught against his stomach has Apollo beside himself, only able to make desperate sounds and shallow breaths. Klavier moves his hips a bit more.
“Ah—so good.”
“Ja?”
“Yes—” then he gasps out, “—more.”
Klavier is trying to be gentle, but he guesses that isn’t what Apollo wants. He puts more pressure in how he rocks against him once again, and they’re both out of breath now. Klavier can feel himself falter in his rhythm for a second, though, and he involuntarily jerks against Apollo.
“Uhn…”
“Is it good for you, too?”
He nods, shutting his eyes in order to concentrate and not lose himself in the heat of the moment. Apollo does instead.
“Is it bad if—hah—I want it inside?”
This surprises Klavier. His eyes open. He looks at Apollo’s flushed face, and he is serious, as far as he can tell.
“A-Are you sure? We don’t have to—”
“No, I want it. I want you inside me.”
Admittedly, it is hard to say no to a request like that.
He picks up the lube again, and after applying it to himself, Klavier goes to prepare Apollo, slipping one finger in slowly, pushing it deeper every time he pulls out. Apollo squirms, but in a good way, back arching slightly, letting out a puff of air. Klavier adds in another finger, and Apollo says impatiently, “Just do it already.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. I want it so bad.”
Apollo’s old instincts are coming out. The slutty ones. It’s not his fault that he’s been conditioned to love this. Sex takes away all the bad feelings for just enough time to feel alright until the endorphins wear off. It’s a Pavlovian-type response except, instead of a bell and food, the presence of intimacy makes him desperately want and need. And, anyway, there’s something about having someone inside him—it feels more base, more like he’s there for someone else’s taking.
Maybe degrading is more accurate a description.
Regardless, some strange anticipatory excitement strikes him when he feels Klavier line up with him, and he slowly pushes forward, and Apollo hisses.
(It’s just like he remembers it being.)
“Did I—did I hurt you?” Klavier asks, expression contorted as if he’s the one who’s been hurt.
What can Apollo say to that? Of course, it’s never exactly pleasant at first, but part of the excitement is giving into something could be awful but also could be the best thing he’s ever felt. He doesn’t want to tell Klavier that because he’s trying so hard to be kind to him. Unfortunately, Apollo’s a bit of a masochist when he lets himself indulge in that side of himself.
He’s already lost to the chemical reactions in his brain, so his words come out like a lofty sigh, “No, you’re fine.”
“Okay—please tell me if you need me to—”
“Klavier, just shut up and fuck me.”
He stares at Apollo, surprised at his sudden shift in behavior.
It’s not like he usually acts like this or ever really has in the past, but it’s frustrating to be treated differently than the script he’s used to, which is to sit back and take it.
(And, maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of him that misses that. A messed up part of him, definitely, but still a part of him.)
No, he can’t think about that now because Klavier is suspicious—in a kind way, of course.
“Is this…” he breathes softly, “…really a good idea, Schatz?”
“I don’t wanna stop.”
What can Klavier say to that? Of course, he’s consenting enthusiastically, so there’s no real reason to actually stop, but something in the back of his brain tells him that things aren't quite right.
Reluctantly, he says, “Okay.”
So, he pulls back just enough to get the leverage to rock his hips against him. He does it again with a little more force, and this time, it’s Klavier’s turn to let out a low moan.
“You feel so good,” he whispers into Apollo’s ear.
“Y-Yeah?”
Klavier’s found a steady pace, but it’s pretty slow and gentle, and he’s already breathing hard. Apollo tries to shift so it hits him deeper, but there’s not a lot he can do when pinned under him except wrap his legs around Klavier’s back. It feels fine, but that’s not exactly what he wants.
“Can you—go harder—?”
By the way he sweats and makes small grunts, Apollo is not sure that he can.
“—You want that?”
“Yeah.”
So, experimentally, Klavier does thrust harder, and they both gasp. Klavier stays inside him, dragging out a breathy swear. Apollo sees stars.
“Fuck—”
“That was it—right there—”
“I don’t know if I can keep that up for long.”
“Do what you can, then.”
Apollo puts his arms around Klavier’s shoulders and pulls him close, pulls him into a kiss with wild abandon. It’s sloppy with desperation, and Apollo wants nothing more than for this to last forever.
He’s glad that he asked for it harder because (that’s it that’s it that’s it), and its the feeling that he can finally give into, finally lose himself completely in the euphoria. It’s the closeness he always wants—the breaths against his neck, the praise, the sparks that light up his brain—he wants it more than anything, and he remembers why he used to be so obsessed with him and this and—
God, he needs to not think about Kristoph right now. That’s so wrong to do to Klavier. But, the fucked up parts of his brain find it super hot to think about how he’s done this with the both of them, and it’s entirely overwhelming.
He calls out the correct name, thank you very much.
The only thing he did that Klavier won’t do is hurt him. There’s no danger, no fear to make every brush of skin against skin send a visceral shock through all of his nervous system. It’s supposed to be a good thing, and yet…
“Klavier—can you—hah—give me your hand?”
He holds it out, and Apollo takes it gingerly as if he’s not going to place it on his neck. Which he does. A thumb on one artery and the rest of his fingers on the other.
“What are you doing?”
Apollo gasps at all the feelings inside him, everything pushing him to places farther and farther away from reality. He knows it’s bad to put Klavier in this position, but he wants it so much.
“You don’t have to press hard. Just a little—just a little bit.”
“Do you really want me to…do this to you…?”
He can’t hold back sharp, “Yes—” when fingers sink into his skin and Klavier hits that spot inside him that lights up whole body. “Oh, fuck…”
“You—you have to tell me when I need to stop.”
Apollo pants back at him, clearly sinking into whatever haze he's getting trapped in. His eyes are unfocused.
“Apollo,” he breathes, “tell me you understand what I’m saying.”
“I understand.”
Except, Klavier is getting the feeling that he never planned on setting that boundary for himself, that he wants to teeter between consenting and being controlled. That’s speculation, and what can he do when Apollo keeps saying yes?
To be fair, after a minute or so, he sees Apollo’s face growing red, and that’s when he really cries out loudly, even though Klavier isn’t going as hard as he’d previously asked of him. Maybe that’s what he likes?
“What do you like about it, Schatzi?”
His voice is so soft and kind. The words feel like cotton being stuffed in his ears. Apollo’s vision blurs, and he loses control of his mouth.
“Ah—it’s better—everything feels better this way—feels so good—ah…”
Apollo doesn’t say out loud that he also likes the dizzy feeling, the lack of autonomy, the whisper of a threat. Klavier doesn’t have to know that. He also doesn’t need to know who taught him these things, who’s light grasp could turn into a terrifying coil around his neck at any second. Even the idea of it, the memories of back then has him lifting his hips to meet Klavier’s.
It’s true, though, that when his brain starts lacking oxygen that everything is more sensitive and that he hadn’t felt like he was close before, but now it’s creeping up on him far more quickly.
“How close—are you?”
Klavier looks down at him dotingly, almost sadly, but Apollo can’t say, ‘It’s okay, Klavier. I like feeling small in your grip. Don’t worry,’ because it might upset him.
Regardless, Klavier replies with a shaky voice, “Very.”
“Me too,” he gasps even though he can still breathe.
“Do you want me to let you go?”
“Not yet. A little more.”
It’s in the way that Klavier dips his head and lets out an exasperated groan that Apollo knows he might not make it much longer. That’s probably why he releases his neck prematurely, and once again, they’re lip-locked, and Klavier moans into his mouth. His pace has become fast and hard, and even though there’s oxygen going to his brain again, Apollo can’t recover from getting hit in the right spot like that over and over again.
Klavier breaks the kiss and drops his head against Apollo’s shoulder, and they don’t even need to say anything because they both come at the same time, the rest of everything falling away in the last of their movements and sounds.
He swears his vision cut out, but Apollo is back in reality when Klavier thumps against his chest, panting, sticky and sweaty.
It’s a familiar feeling. All those times alone with the disgusting layer of bodily fluids all over him. But, he’s not cold and nauseous like he usually would be. How could he be cold when another person who’s hot with exertion is on top of him?
Klavier lazily rolls so he flops beside him and pulls Apollo into his chest, burying his face in Apollo’s hair. He takes a deep breath in and sighs.
“I love you, Apollo.”
Apollo squeaks at the feeling of his breath on him. His words don’t help either.
“I love you, too.”
It’s sad, but he’s never been held after this type of thing, so it’s a little surprising, and even though they’re sweaty and sticky, there’s something so viscerally erotic about not being tossed aside after the act that Apollo grinds against Klavier before he could stop himself.
Klavier gasps at first, but then, he laughs quietly.
“Still not tired out?” he asks. It’s clear Klavier is tired, if nothing else.
He can’t really describe why he still wants more, but he does. However, he doesn’t want to be selfish.
“You don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no,” he sighs into the back of his neck, sounding drowsy, but he covers it with a kiss of his shoulder blade. “Do you want to come again?”
The question feels like too much to bear.
“Yes…please…”
There’s another kiss at the skin of his neck, and Klavier reaches around takes him in his hand. He’s half-hard already but still way more sensitive than he normally is. Probably since he literally just came, and he’s asking for it again. He somehow knows that it’s not exactly normal, but Klavier doesn’t say anything regarding it.
He squirms against his touch, recognizing the sensation as starting again too quickly, but he likes that overstimulated feeling for some reason. It also makes him squeak and whimper because it’s a hair away from being painful.
“Are those good sounds, Schatz?”
He puffs out air and tries to keep the truth from slipping out. They’re clearly not good sounds, so he doesn’t say anything.
A few kisses at his neck and a soft, “You’re not answering me.”
“…Please let me…” Apollo isn’t even really sure what he’s trying to say, and Klavier doesn’t stop moving his hand, and he moans because it’s so much. “It doesn’t—always have to be—good—”
That gets Klavier to stop. Or, more like, he freezes mid-stroke and tenses against Apollo’s body.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“—Don’t stop—please—”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But, I like it.” His breathing is ragged. “It feels good. Don’t…”
Klavier takes his hand back and sits up. Apollo looks over his shoulder, eyes glassy and pleading like they had been when he dropped to his knees.
“I think we should stop.” He frowns. “You’re acting strange again.”
Strange? What does that have anything to do with it? He just doesn’t want it to end, and he doesn’t want to stop until he physically can’t go on anymore. He can still remember what it felt like to have every muscle in his body burn and ache for days after, how the feeling of being used so carelessly would have him back in that office, desperate for one more hit of endorphins, desperate for the attention of an older man who he could place in the father-shaped hole in his heart.
Apollo rolls to his other side so he can see Klavier better. He’s sweaty, and his hair is tousled, and he’s wearing a weird expression.
Also, Apollo realizes that he hadn’t been as hard as he thought he was, which is not helping his case. It’s probably no fun to jerk off a soft dick.
“What’s strange…?”
Klavier’s mouth is twisted up. He decides to lay on his stomach, head propped up by his hand and elbow.
“Sometimes you start seeming unlike yourself. I want to give you what you want, but I also don’t want to cross any boundaries accidentally.”
His mind automatically spits out, (I don’t have any boundaries). The thought should scare him a lot more than it does.
Klavier continues, “If someone has treated you poorly in the past, I don’t want to contribute to that. It could make you feel worse.”
Like Apollo cares about that. He only cares about avoiding pain when he’s outside of this hazy space that sex pushes him into. Maybe that’s what Klavier means. Can he see it in his eyes, in his face that he’s somewhere outside of this bedroom? Can he tell that even when he’s with him, there’s someone else’s shadow lurking in the back of his mind, whispering dark nothings in his ears?
“Yeah,” he whispers, and he understands, he really does, but his eyes sting and his cheeks are hot from embarrassment, and he really wishes that it didn’t have to be like this—that he didn't have to be like this.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Klavier says, placing a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay. I just want you to be happy and safe.”
Apollo wishes he wanted that for himself, but most of the time, he wants the exact opposite.
“Can you…hold me for a little while, then?”
“Natürlich.”
Even if things might still be bad, Klavier’s embrace is not, and his bed is warm and inviting. He can take solace in the fact that he’s here in this moment, and he can try to drag himself back into this room and into these arms.
“Thank you, Klavier.”
He hums lazily and kisses the tip of his nose.
“Bitte, Herr Forehead.”
Apollo lays his head on Klavier’s chest, and they both giggle. It’s nice to act like things are fine, and that’s probably why he needs to tell himself that he is.
(I’m fine), he thinks, pretending like it’s not a lie. A lie for himself and for Klavier, at least for now.