Fic: Come Up and See Me
Pairing: Klavier/Daryan
Rating: Hard R? Maybe NC-17.
Word count: c. 6000
Summary: Written for the following kinkmeme prompt: I want Daryan to walk in on Klavier masturbating in his office. Maybe he could tease him a bit for it, but for it to ultimately lead to a bit more... like sex on a chair or something, whatever floats Anon's boat. OPnon sums it up quite nicely, I think :)
*
Klavier, Daryan thought, as he waited impatiently in the elevator, owed him big for this. Seriously big. It would have been just as easy for Klavier to come to his office to collect his precious files, but no, for some reason, it was Daryan who had to waste his lunch break (after being in meetings since 9am) making his way halfway across town to the Prosecutor's Office. And it was blisteringly hot outside today, so hot that the suit Daryan had been forced to wear was sticking to him (although at least now he was out of the chief's office he could take the jacket off), and after eight years of wearing his thick, unruly hair long he still hadn't figured out a way to get it up off his neck that didn't make him look like a fucking girl. He loosened his tie and undid his top button, grimacing at the dampness of his collar.
The elevator doors opened, and Daryan walked out, jacket slung over his shoulder. Music was drifting faintly down the hall from Klavier's office, and Daryan rolled his eyes. How, he thought, as he made his way towards the farthest door, had Klavier made it this long without getting fired? Daryan didn't work well without music, either, but he got an earful from his tightass neighbours and occasionally the head of department every time he put a record on in his office. Apparently no one here gave a shit. Maybe they were just really big Bowie fans. Daryan hummed absently along with the familiar rough, thumping, knees-up piano, remembering with a smirk all the times he had fucked Klavier to this album. It made him a bit more tolerant of Klavier's Bowie obsession - not that Daryan wasn't into the classics, but frankly he didn't think Klavier needed any more encouragement for his histrionic diva shit.
Which he better hadn't pull now, Daryan thought, as he reached Klavier's door, or he was going to be seriously fucked off. He opened the door and stepped inside, ready to tell Klavier exactly where he could shove his fucking background checks next time he wanted a favour.
Instead, however, he suddenly found himself lost for words. Completely oblivious to Daryan's arrival, Klavier was stretched out on that stupid fancy massage chair of his with one hand down his pants, head tilted back and mouth open in gasps that Daryan couldn't hear over the music.
Daryan's first thought was, oh, so this is what you were too busy doing to come down to the precinct, jackass. His second thought sounded more like, fucking hell. Seeing Klavier like this went straight to his cock, no matter how pissed off he was at him. Yeah, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before (and actually, this was pretty tame compared to some of the shit Daryan had walked in on), but it never seemed to get old. He let himself just stare for a minute or two, taking in the flush on Klavier's cheeks, the slight arch of his back, the still-languid (how long had he been at it, Daryan wondered) movements of his hand, until he was getting hard himself and had to decide what to do about it. It was tempting to stay quiet and watch, even more tempting to offer to finish the job himself, more tempting still to surprise him when he was close so he came knowing Daryan's eyes were on him. God, the noises you could get out of him, doing that.
On the other hand, Daryan was still fucked off with him, so in the end, he decided instead just to interrupt. He closed the door behind him with a deliberate slam, smirking at the undignified strangled sound Klavier made as he realised he was no longer alone.
"I always knew that was what you used that chair for," he remarked, leaning back against the door. Klavier twisted in his seat until he could see him. He looked deliciously flustered, Daryan thought - obviously, he'd been going for long enough to be pretty into it - but not half as embarrassed as most people would have done in his situation. In fact, he was eyeing Daryan with a faint smile, and hadn't, Daryan realised, taken his hand off his cock. So much for pissing him off, Daryan thought, resignedly. Then again, he should have known better than to think that Klavier would feel at all awkward about being caught quite literally with his pants down.
"Don't you ever knock, Detective Crescend?" Klavier asked, although he didn't sound overly concerned.
"Don't you ever work?" Daryan shot back. He peeled himself off the door and crossed the room to stand over the chair where Klavier was sprawled, looking down into Klavier's bright, heavy, smiling eyes with a familiar mixture of arousal and irritation. Klavier grinned crookedly up at him, and made a vague motion towards Daryan's hip with his free hand.
"I was waiting on those files," he replied. Daryan fought the urge to smack him with them. Instead, he perched on the edge of Klavier's desk and, smirking slightly, began ostentatiously to read them. He could feel Klavier's glare.
"Let's get on with this, then," he said. "I couldn't find shit on the year the guy says he spent in Italy, so as far as I'm concerned - "
"Daryan," Klavier interrupted. It was probably meant to sound flirtatious, Daryan thought, but the effect was kind of ruined by the minor sulk he was audibly throwing. Daryan didn't take his eyes off the papers. "It can wait, can it not? I'm taking my lunch break."
It would have taken a stronger man than Daryan Crescend to ignore the booted foot that then dragged up his inside leg, and despite himself Daryan looked up, just like he knew Klavier wanted him to. Klavier was a fucking picture, spread over the chair with his fly undone and his cock out, hard and flushed and gorgeous in a way that Daryan still found kind of embarrassing, and damn it really was tempting just to give him what he obviously wanted. Daryan could deal with stroking Klavier's ego once in a while - it wasn't like he didn't get anything out of it himself. But still...
"So am I," said the part of him that still sort of resented being there. "And I just wasted half an hour of it coming over to see you. So let's get to work." Klavier narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at him. An infuriating smile crossed his face, slight, teasing, a little smug, the smile of someone who thought they had their partner in the palm of their hand. As Klavier's eyes fluttered shut, Daryan wished he could say he was wrong.
"Fine," Klavier sighed. "Let me just take care of this, ja?" He stroked himself once, slowly, letting out a soft meaningless murmur, and Daryan groaned aloud, unable to help himself. Klavier opened his eyes and grinned cockily at him. Something gave way in Daryan, and reluctantly, he smiled back. Why was it, he thought irritably, that this game never seemed to go his way?
Whatever. He wasn't about to turn down a private show from Klavier Gavin, and who knows what else after it. He hoisted himself up to sit cross-legged on Klavier's desk, which earned him another glare.
"You are sitting on my evidence," Klavier told him. Daryan smirked.
"Oh, so you do want to talk about work." Klavier glared at him again, but this time it was accompanied by a sly half-smile and slightly parted lips, and it succeeded in doing nothing except making Daryan's trousers feel tighter. Daryan pulled the file out from underneath him and ran an eye idly over it. He soon wished he hadn't; it was a particularly gruesome autopsy report. "If this is what's got you hot and bothered, Gavin, I'm seriously concerned for you," he quipped. Klavier laughed softly.
"Nein, it was the promise of your visit, baby," he corrected, winking at him. Daryan rolled his eyes. He hated it when Klavier did that. When Klavier flirted, it was impossible to tell how serious he was being; not that it mattered much, given that there was a part of Daryan it worked on anyway every. single. time. He was a fucking idiot for this man, he thought. He put the files on top of his abandoned jacket and eyed Klavier contemplatively. Like he always did when he was being watched, Klavier looked a bit out of it, eyes overbright, but Daryan thought he could see honest interest behind his vague and blissed-out smile. Although he had to admit, it was difficult to be too bothered either way when he had Klavier in front of him regardless, turned on and ready to perform.
"What exactly were you expecting I'd do when I got here?" he asked, dryly. He watched Klavier's hand begin to slide over his cock and drew in a long, shaky breath.
"I thought perhaps you would remember," Klavier murmured, his voice soft and sweet as he relaxed again into his own touch, "that you owe me from the last time I paid you a visit." Daryan laughed, although the sound got a little caught somewhere in his suddenly tight throat. A couple of weeks ago, Klavier had dropped in unannounced at Daryan's office, clearly furious with somebody or something at the precinct, and also, for whatever reason, horny like he was about to come out of a five-year dry spell. It had taken him all of about five minutes to get a still slightly bewildered Daryan bent over his desk and fucked so hard he'd nearly bitten through his lip to stop himself from screaming. A hot aching shiver ran through him at the memory, and he leaned forward slightly.
"What, you want me to make you come all over a morning's worth of work? Whatever that even is for you," he added, although there wasn't much of an edge to the words, Daryan too distracted by Klavier swallowing hard and writhing a little as he spoke. Klavier was an incurable flirt, and could make even the most innocent sentence sound filthy, but when it came down to it, getting right to the point was a surefire way to get him worked up, and one that Daryan happened to be pretty good at. "You won't be able to sit down for the rest of the afternoon," Daryan warned him. Klavier closed his eyes, hand starting to stroke a little faster, breath starting to come a little shorter.
"You forget, Herr Crescend," he replied, "that my desk chair is far more comfortable than yours." His hips arched slightly, and he swore under his breath. Daryan's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
"You need to get your ass off it if you want me to fuck you," Daryan pointed out. Klavier smiled and shook his head indolently.
"Ja, well," he said, voice a little breathy now, "you were a little later than I had expected." Yeah, sure I was, Daryan thought, not entirely convinced that Klavier hadn't planned this this way all along. He opened his mouth to say so, but the words died in his throat as Klavier shifted and stretched and with a low guttural groan hooked one leg over the arm of the chair. Daryan stared, dry-mouthed and wide-eyed, at the obscene angle of Klavier's taut, leather-clad thighs, at the curve of his ass lifted slightly off the seat, at his cock pushing up into his increasingly tight grip, and barely heard Klavier conclude, "So there's been a change of plans," over the sudden roaring in his ears.
"I'm here now," Daryan said, unsure exactly of what his point was. Just the thought of taking Klavier on this desk was enough to have Daryan hot and anxious and breathing heavily, but he found, as he watched Klavier slowly, languorously fucking his hand, his head falling back against the leather and his lips moving around quiet incoherent sounds, that his cock seemed to have no objections to Daryan not moving an inch. Klavier opened his eyes and looked Daryan over, a long, heavy, appraising look that set every nerve in Daryan's body on edge and drew a small embarrassing noise that definitely wasn't a whimper from somewhere in the back of his throat. Klavier smiled, lopsided and a little wild.
"So you are," he said at last. But he made no move to stand up, just bit his lip and picked up the pace of his strokes with a moan that Daryan involuntarily echoed. That was that decision made for him, then, he thought, sitting back on the desk (and when exactly, he wondered, had he started to lean so far forward he was nearly falling off?). Like things were ever going to play out any other way, really. Hopeless, Daryan thought, not unamused and not without affection, as he watched Klavier's face transform under the weight of Daryan's increasingly hungry gaze, watched him self-consciously and deliberately exaggerate his movements. Completely fucking hopeless. And one day, he told himself, trying and failing not to be utterly captivated, he will be the death of you.
It really was a virtuoso performance, from the arch, flamboyant, rhythmic piano-led soundtrack, right down to the tremble in the fingers of the hand curled around the arm of the chair and the tension in Klavier's dangling foot as his toes curled and the muscles of his leg extended into an exquisite stretch. It was unfair, it was indecent, it was really fucking annoying how gorgeous he looked, Daryan thought, dazed and lightheaded and by now almost uncomfortably aroused. And the longer Klavier's show went on, the more Daryan wanted to get his hands (or any other part of his body, really; he wasn't all that fussy) on him, wanted so desperately to touch him that he was becoming almost mindless with it. He could practically taste the sweat and cologne on Klavier's exposed throat, setting his jaw against the urge to lean over and sink his teeth in so he could feel the swallows and the groans and the hitching breaths he could hear and see moving through him. Daryan's nerves were screaming at him, getting more and more desperate for some kind of contact, and every inch of his body was tight and stiff with the effort of keeping still as his eyes slid restlessly and helplessly over the quick shuddering rise and fall of Klavier's chest, taking in the faint outlines of his hard nipples against the thin, expensive material of his shirt, and the line of pale hair visible where it was untucked and riding up, and god he wanted Klavier out of that chair and on his cock (and fuck Klavier's fucking solo act) so badly it almost hurt. He wanted handfuls of Klavier's spread and flexing thighs, wanted Klavier's ass pushing back against him, wanted Klavier's cock in his hand, and his fingers twitched eagerly as his gaze fixed on the rough, clumsy, erratic movements of Klavier's right hand.
"Amateur, Gavin," Daryan told him. "I could give a better handjob than that." He'd meant it to sound derisive, but it came out more like hopeful. Klavier raised his eyebrows.
"Feel free to take over at any time," Klavier offered, knowing perfectly well, Daryan thought, that he wouldn't. Hell, Daryan wasn't even touching himself, knowing from experience that if he did he would come before Klavier did, and frankly, it was humiliating enough already that he found Klavier so totally arresting that just looking at him could leave him pretty much paralysed. Daryan swore, a little unhappily. It had been five years, and Daryan'd lost count of how many fucks, but there were still times when he just couldn't even deal with what Klavier Gavin made him feel.
And yet...even as his hips jerked up and he moaned unrestrainedly, just a few strokes away from coming, Klavier was keeping his half-closed eyes fixed almost anxiously on Daryan, like he needed to make absolutely sure that Daryan was watching him. Consummate fucking performer, Daryan thought wryly, but it went a long way to silence those doubts and uncertanties that nagged at him every time things with Klavier went beyond his comfort zone. It reminded him that if nothing else, they were at least as beyond all fucking help as each other.
"Daryan," Klavier groaned, voice trailing off into a soft demanding whine, and it was enough to comprehensively screw over any lingering capacity Daryan still had for coherent thought. Daryan willingly gave Klavier all the attention he had to offer, finally losing himself in the show, mind and body so absorbed in Klavier's nonsensical cries and desperate movements that it seemed like everything he felt, the feverish heat of his skin, the tension in his muscles, the rawness of his nerves, the hard insistent ache in his cock, was an echo of Klavier's building climax. He was barely aware that he was gradually pulling his hair out of its long tail, that he was mumbling under his breath, curses, meaningless wanting sounds, Klavier's name, over and over and over again. His body strained towards Klavier as Klavier tensed and shuddered and panted for breath, and when at last Klavier came over his hand with a final choking cry the sudden release of tension felt almost like Daryan had followed straight after him.
For a minute, neither of them did anything at all, Daryan trying to regain some control of his senses, Klavier slumped quiet and trembling on the chair, coming down from the high of performing. Daryan breathed deeply, letting himself become conscious again of his own intense arousal. Time, he thought, for the encore. He lifted his eyes to Klavier, wondering if he had anything in particular in mind. Daryan couldn't say he was feeling especially imaginative; to be perfectly honest, he'd probably have been quite happy with Klavier just extending a leg so he could hump it. Klavier, though, was just frowning vaguely at the come on his hand. Daryan watched interestedly as he glanced around for something to wipe it off, feeling no real inclination to help. Apparently finding nothing, Klavier sighed resignedly and started licking his hand clean. Which was exactly what Daryan had been half hoping for, but it still pulled an almost involuntary moan of "Oh fuck, Klavier," out of him. Maybe he had a couple of ideas after all, Daryan thought, transfixed by the careful, thorough movements of Klavier's tongue.
But as Daryan stared, Klavier slid his fingers out of his mouth, the tips drawing wet lascivious lines over his lower lip, and much to a worked-up Daryan's bewilderment, instead of getting down on his knees in front of the desk, started tidying himself up, rearranging his clothes, combing his fingers through his hair, buttoning his fly. He sat forward, and made a credible attempt at a serious, businesslike face. Daryan gaped at him for a second before laughing, incredulously and a little hysterically. Un-fucking-believable.
"Oh no you fucking don't, Gavin," he said. "Don't think I came all the way up here just to watch you fucking show off." Klavier didn't move, watching Daryan thoughtfully, like he was trying to decide if they were still playing or not. No we most certainly are not, Daryan thought. Klavier owed him to start with for that bloody report - which had taken him the best part of two goddamn days to sort out for him - and playing the adoring fan to Klavier's latest egotrip as well definitely deserved at least a fucking blowjob, as far as Daryan was concerned. So he decided to let Klavier know he was absolutely serious. He slid awkwardly off the desk, moving so that Klavier was just about at eye level with his cock, and smirked down at him.
Klavier smiled back, a beautiful guileless smile that Daryan should really have known was extremely dangerous. Then, in one fluid movement, he twined his fingers in Daryan's tie and pulled him sharply down towards him. Daryan was already a little unsteady on his feet, and the sudden force threw him completely off-balance, sending him falling half into Klavier's lap. Flustered and a little cross, he struggled to right himself, shifting until he was kneeling on the chair between Klavier's still-spread legs, hands braced on Klavier's shoulders. He glared at Klavier. Now you really owe me, he decided, and was about to tell Klavier so when Klavier arched up underneath him and kissed him. It was a slow, thorough kiss, and Klavier held him through it, one hand gentle on the small of his back, the other stroking the hair sticking to his damp neck. The gesture was at once disarmingly intimate and indecently suggestive, and despite himself, for the first time all day, Daryan relaxed.
"Long morning?" Klavier murmured into his mouth. Daryan ran his tongue over Klavier's lower lip.
"Made even longer by running errands for you, asshole," he sighed. Klavier laughed quietly.
"I suppose I should make it up to you, then, ja?" he suggested. Klavier never did exactly sound sorry, Daryan thought. Not that it mattered, when he was always so very generous with his compensation.
"Damn fucking straight," he mumbled. He hesitated uncomfortably for a moment, but eventually kissed Klavier one last time, a quick, careful, uncharacteristically honest kiss, before disentangling himself from Klavier's warm, limp embrace and standing up. Still lounging in that ridiculous chair, Klavier watched him, looking him up and down with a lingering, thoughtful gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly in appreciation.
"You look good today," Klavier observed. A little surprised, Daryan looked down at his suit, by then a little rumpled and extremely sweaty. Not that Daryan didn't know perfectly well that even next to Klavier Gavin he was pretty hot shit, but he personally thought that he looked like a complete prick in a suit, just like everyone else who wore one.
"Meetings all morning," he said, by way of explanation. "Some of us are actually capable of being professional once in a while," he added with a lopsided smirk. Klavier glared half-heartedly at him, but apparently chose to rise above it.
"It sounds like you deserve a turn in the chair," Klavier said, with a sympathetic smile that was only a little mischevious. What I deserve is a little more appreciation round here, Daryan thought, but he couldn't muster any real bitterness, not with Klavier looking at him like that. He stepped back to allow Klavier room to finally get his ass up off the chair. As Klavier brushed deliberately against him, he toyed briefly with the idea of just grabbing hold of him and not letting go until he'd somehow got Daryan off. If he'd thought his legs could hold him that long, he probably would have done. As it was, he took Klavier's place on the chair. It wasn't even that comfortable. Bits were digging into him.
"Better, nicht wahr?" Klavier asked. Before Daryan had a chance to reply snidely, however, Klavier nudged his legs apart with his knee and knelt carefully down between them, and Daryan couldn't do jackshit other than swallow hard and bite back a whine. Luckily, Klavier didn't seem inclined to wait for an answer, getting straight to work on Daryan's clothes. At fucking last, Daryan thought, as Klavier untucked his shirt and unfastened his belt and what little blood had been left in Daryan's brain suddenly upped and left. Klavier's touch burned where it skimmed across his bare skin, and by the time Klavier was pulling his trousers and underwear down just about far enough to get his cock out properly, Daryan was once again tense and shaking and gritting his teeth against begging while trying to find the words to tell Klavier to stop fucking staring at it like it was about to do tricks or something and just. fucking. get on with it. At last, Klavier looked up. Daryan's face heated right up under the intense weight of his stare; he squirmed impatiently, hissing out shallow breaths through his nose, as Klavier reached a hand up to idly finger the end of Daryan's tie.
"Suits you," Klavier told him, decidedly, and sucked the head of Daryan's cock into his mouth. Daryan's hips arched up off the seat and he cried out before he could help himself. With the last remaining shreds of his composure, common sense and self-consciousness, he sat forward and jerked his head anxiously towards the door.
"For fuck's sake, lock it, Gavin. I'll give you two minutes," he breathed. Klavier lifted his head, drawing an indignant groan from Daryan.
"I don't know how things work down in the precinct, Detective," he replied, "but here most people do not walk into my office without knocking." Then how come they haven't rubbed off on you, Daryan wanted to say - Klavier had no fucking sense of privacy whatsoever - but the retort died on its ass on Daryan's lips, replaced by a weak moan as with an obscenely satisfied sound Klavier took his cock back into his mouth. Daryan collapsed back onto the chair and let Klavier begin taking him apart with lips and tongue. Credit where credit's due, Daryan had to admit, he had never met anyone who gave better head than Klavier Gavin, no one who seemed to enjoy it quite so much, and definitely no one who looked as good doing it. Klavier's bangs were falling so artfully into his eyes Daryan would almost have sworn he'd somehow done it on purpose; his open mouth and hollowing cheeks were so filthily beautiful that Daryan was glad he didn't have to try and stay on his feet while staring down at that, and he looked almost drugged with pleasure, eyes half-closed, lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners.
Daryan couldn't take his eyes off him and this, he thought, needing it too badly to really care, was going to be over embarrassingly quickly. He could feel himself getting close already, muscles tightening, vision clouding, blood pulsing hard through him, feeling and watching Klavier's mouth work around him. He knotted his hands in Klavier's hair and hooked his legs over Klavier's shoulders, heels digging into Klavier's back as he arched his hips shamelessly upwards.
When Klavier pulled away, Daryan almost howled.
"Don't you dare fucking stop, Gavin," he gasped, a mess of agonisingly raw, overstimulated nerves and in no mood to play any more fucking games. He stared almost blindly down at Klavier, who had started fumbling around underneath the chair with a look of concentration that Daryan hated himself for finding so endearing. Daryan didn't know what he was doing and didn't care; whatever he'd found, whatever he'd dropped, whatever he was looking for, whatever, it could damn well fucking wait. Then Klavier smiled triumphantly, and Daryan had just about enough time to be completely baffled before the goddamn chair was moving around him and he was crying out a garbled, cracked approximation of "Oh fucking god!"
It felt like five pair of expert hands touching him in places he hadn't even known he wanted to be touched, digging hard into the nape of his neck, the hollows under his shoulderblades, the small of his back, his ass and the backs of his thighs, and it was reducing him to a panting, writhing, moaning wreck without Klavier having even started sucking him off again. He opened his bleary eyes (and he had no fucking idea which almost violent sensation had made him screw them tightly shut) and tried to focus on Klavier, who was smiling that dark, heavy smile that always made Daryan thank the fates for letting him ever cross paths with Klavier Gavin.
"I told you you should get yourself one of these," Klavier remarked, before finally, Daryan thought euphorically, stopping all this dicking about and starting to suck Daryan like he actually meant it. Daryan's head fell back against the chair and he made up his mind to take back every bad word he had ever said about flouncing foppish princess prosecutors and their stupid flashy office furniture, because Klavier's hands were holding his hips down, pressing him back so hard into the grinding movements of the chair that the convulsions it sent through him were an addictive cocktail of blissful pleasure and almost nauseating pain, and together with the wet heat of Klavier's mouth around his cock it was enough to undo him. His hands fisted anxiously in Klavier's hair, nails dragging down the nape of his neck, unashamedly desperate now for Klavier not to stop, Klavier's unexpectedly strong grip the only thing keeping him from just clumsily fucking his mouth. Klavier moaned softly around him, the sound bleeding into the thick incoherent noises Daryan was panting out with every quick, laboured breath.
If it hadn't been for Klavier's sudden, maddening stillness, the knock on the door might not have registered at all. As it was, it still took a while for it to sink in through the overwhelming, disorienting, almost unbearable sensation of being abandoned right on the brink of coming with that fucking chair still working his taut and sensitive muscles, for a wordless, unformed panic to creep hot and sick and tight into his temples. Breathing heavily, dizzy and worked-up and barely capable of coherent thought, he stared helplessly at Klavier. He didn't know what he was more worried about, that Klavier might keep going, or that he might stop.
Slowly, like he was moving through water, Klavier lifted his head as far as the tense, vise-like grip of Daryan's long legs would allow. One hand strayed to his mouth, lips and teeth scraping thoughtfully over the pad of his thumb, nails and fingertips shifting in restless, unconscious caresses over his collarbone.
His thoughts were written all over his face, and Daryan was suddenly, irrationally angry. Maybe normally he wouldn't have given a fuck, but this was the Prosecutor's Office, and he couldn't quite believe that even Klavier would want to get caught here, and either fucking way, he thought, he was not going to let Klavier make even this about what Klavier fucking Gavin wants. He shook his head.
"Klavier - ," he began, warningly. One corner of Klavier's mouth turned up.
"Eine minuten, bitte," he called, voice incriminatingly rough and tremulous. Daryan's eyes widened anxiously. He opened his mouth to tell Klavier exactly what a monumentally bad idea this was, just as Klavier bent his head back down and took him deep into his mouth with a happy, strung-out groan, sucking hard and swallowing around his cock, and all that came out was a choked moan of Klavier's name, half-muffled by the hand that Daryan just about managed to get to his mouth in time. Klavier released his hold on Daryan's hips, and with a couple of quick, jerky thrusts, the panic and the tension and the exhilaration and the desperate, ambivalent need to just get this over with overtook him and he came, hard and fast and almost silent, into Klavier's mouth.
For a minute or two, Daryan just lay there uselessly, mind blissfully blank, blood ringing in his ears, breath coming quick and shallow, bright spots blurring the edges of his vision. The chair was still moving around him, the feeling almost torturous to his wrung-out, oversensitive body. He closed his eyes and rode out the aftershocks, groaning weakly at the tremors that shuddered through him from the motion of the chair and Klavier's lingering touches.
He was brought back to his senses in the end by Klavier's half-hearted, ineffectual pushing at his thighs. Opening his eyes, he let his legs fall apart and off Klavier's shoulders, allowing Klavier at last to stand up. Klavier stretched ostentatiously, grimacing as he straightened out his legs, before flashing an extremely smug smile at Daryan and turning to the door. Daryan spluttered with breathless, slightly delirious laughter.
"Tell me you're not going to answer the door like that," he said. Klavier's hair was a mess, his lips were wet and swollen and full of colour, his eyes were lidded and glassy, and even if none of those things had been true the shit-eating grin on his face would still have made it glaringly obvious what he'd just been doing. Klavier ignored him and sauntered a little unsteadily over to the door. Daryan shook his head, half despairing, half entertained despite himself. He reached clumsily down beneath the seat to turn the chair off, tidied himself up as much as he could be bothered, and relaxed limply back against the leather, vaguely and absently contemplating just what a strange man Klavier Gavin was.
"Fraulein Detective Skye," he heard Klavier exclaim. Daryan craned his neck just in time to see Klavier bow extravangantly. He rolled his eyes.
"You know, I really don't have the time for you to be keeping me waiting," snapped the familiar voice. "Some of have jobs to do, not just short-lived amateur shows to put on for an audience of one." Daryan snickered. He had always liked Skye, ever since that time at the Christmas party when she had tipped a drink into a totally wasted Klavier's lap in response to his magnanimous and spectacularly charmless offer of a fuck.
"Of course, of course," Klavier said, sounding contrite enough that anyone other than Daryan and Skye would have been fooled, he thought. "My apologies. What is it that I can do for you, Detective?" Daryan heard a slap that was the unmistakeable sound of a file being violently thrust into Klavier's chest.
"Handwriting analysis you asked for. Match with the suspect." That was interesting, Daryan, thought, mind straying back onto the case. "I've - "
"Detective Skye," Klavier interrupted. Daryan winced preemptively. "You have my eternal gratitude. A thousand thank yous." Daryan didn't need to see Skye to be able to picture the look on her face. He wondered idly if she'd finally slap him this time. "But if you will excuse me, I'm afraid that I too am a little short on time, ja? Detective Crescend has brought me the background checks I asked for - " Oh, you utter bastard, Daryan thought, if she'd known I was coming over it would have saved her the trip and I am going to be in such deep shit now " - and I imagine going over them will take most of the afternoon." Daryan met Skye's eyes over Klavier's shoulder and shrugged apologetically. Skye looked exasperated and thoroughly fucked off, but not particularly shocked. Another thing he quite liked about her. "I will, of course, pass on the results of our work," Klavier continued smoothly. Skye now looked, Daryan thought, like she wanted to tell Klavier to go fuck himself with the results of his work. Daryan kind of hoped she would. Skye could throw tantrums to rival Klavier's, and if anyone could tell Klavier what a complete and total piece of shit he could be sometimes, it was her.
"Why break the habit of a lifetime," she remarked acidly, "by pretending that anyone actually matters in this whole circus other than you? Besides," she added, "I can't imagine why you'd think anyone but you would be interested in anything the pair of you could produce." Ouch, Daryan thought. Hit him where it hurts, right in the band.
Skye walked off before Klavier had a chance to respond, and Daryan watched as Klavier closed the door and crossed the room to his desk, barely acknowledging Daryan's presence. He perched elegantly on the edge of the table, crossing one leg over the other like a girl, and picked up the papers that Daryan had brought, looking absorbedly at them. Apparently, now it was time to get to work. The last track of the album faded out into the silence that suddenly stretched between them, and Daryan fidgeted aimlessly, feeling a little prickly.
"One day," he said to Klavier, "you are going to get fired for something like this, and I will laugh my ass off." Klavier looked up, turning his attention back to Daryan. He looked quiet and relaxed and content and unreasonably lovely, and he smiled, a sweet, uncomplicated smile that Daryan hadn't seen since he'd got there.
"Nein, I get the work done, do I not? What more can they ask of me?" Klavier asked, with a serene confidence that Daryan just didn't know what to say to. His stomach lurched unpleasantly as he met Klavier's eyes. Klavier really was more, sometimes, than he could take. Seriously high maintenance, he thought, shoving aside the tangle of other half-formed thoughts that were beginning to surface in his rapidly clearing head. He watched Klavier flick through the file in his hands, an appealingly serious set to his features. "You managed to turn up a lot here," Klavier murmured, eyes skimming thoughtfully over the pages. "This actually might keep us busy all afternoon. A shame." He glanced up, a look in his eyes that Daryan still wasn't good at dealing with. "Excellent work as always, Herr Detective."
Sometimes Daryan sort of wished it wasn't so totally worth it.
*
Rating: Hard R? Maybe NC-17.
Word count: c. 6000
Summary: Written for the following kinkmeme prompt: I want Daryan to walk in on Klavier masturbating in his office. Maybe he could tease him a bit for it, but for it to ultimately lead to a bit more... like sex on a chair or something, whatever floats Anon's boat. OPnon sums it up quite nicely, I think :)
*
Klavier, Daryan thought, as he waited impatiently in the elevator, owed him big for this. Seriously big. It would have been just as easy for Klavier to come to his office to collect his precious files, but no, for some reason, it was Daryan who had to waste his lunch break (after being in meetings since 9am) making his way halfway across town to the Prosecutor's Office. And it was blisteringly hot outside today, so hot that the suit Daryan had been forced to wear was sticking to him (although at least now he was out of the chief's office he could take the jacket off), and after eight years of wearing his thick, unruly hair long he still hadn't figured out a way to get it up off his neck that didn't make him look like a fucking girl. He loosened his tie and undid his top button, grimacing at the dampness of his collar.
The elevator doors opened, and Daryan walked out, jacket slung over his shoulder. Music was drifting faintly down the hall from Klavier's office, and Daryan rolled his eyes. How, he thought, as he made his way towards the farthest door, had Klavier made it this long without getting fired? Daryan didn't work well without music, either, but he got an earful from his tightass neighbours and occasionally the head of department every time he put a record on in his office. Apparently no one here gave a shit. Maybe they were just really big Bowie fans. Daryan hummed absently along with the familiar rough, thumping, knees-up piano, remembering with a smirk all the times he had fucked Klavier to this album. It made him a bit more tolerant of Klavier's Bowie obsession - not that Daryan wasn't into the classics, but frankly he didn't think Klavier needed any more encouragement for his histrionic diva shit.
Which he better hadn't pull now, Daryan thought, as he reached Klavier's door, or he was going to be seriously fucked off. He opened the door and stepped inside, ready to tell Klavier exactly where he could shove his fucking background checks next time he wanted a favour.
Instead, however, he suddenly found himself lost for words. Completely oblivious to Daryan's arrival, Klavier was stretched out on that stupid fancy massage chair of his with one hand down his pants, head tilted back and mouth open in gasps that Daryan couldn't hear over the music.
Daryan's first thought was, oh, so this is what you were too busy doing to come down to the precinct, jackass. His second thought sounded more like, fucking hell. Seeing Klavier like this went straight to his cock, no matter how pissed off he was at him. Yeah, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before (and actually, this was pretty tame compared to some of the shit Daryan had walked in on), but it never seemed to get old. He let himself just stare for a minute or two, taking in the flush on Klavier's cheeks, the slight arch of his back, the still-languid (how long had he been at it, Daryan wondered) movements of his hand, until he was getting hard himself and had to decide what to do about it. It was tempting to stay quiet and watch, even more tempting to offer to finish the job himself, more tempting still to surprise him when he was close so he came knowing Daryan's eyes were on him. God, the noises you could get out of him, doing that.
On the other hand, Daryan was still fucked off with him, so in the end, he decided instead just to interrupt. He closed the door behind him with a deliberate slam, smirking at the undignified strangled sound Klavier made as he realised he was no longer alone.
"I always knew that was what you used that chair for," he remarked, leaning back against the door. Klavier twisted in his seat until he could see him. He looked deliciously flustered, Daryan thought - obviously, he'd been going for long enough to be pretty into it - but not half as embarrassed as most people would have done in his situation. In fact, he was eyeing Daryan with a faint smile, and hadn't, Daryan realised, taken his hand off his cock. So much for pissing him off, Daryan thought, resignedly. Then again, he should have known better than to think that Klavier would feel at all awkward about being caught quite literally with his pants down.
"Don't you ever knock, Detective Crescend?" Klavier asked, although he didn't sound overly concerned.
"Don't you ever work?" Daryan shot back. He peeled himself off the door and crossed the room to stand over the chair where Klavier was sprawled, looking down into Klavier's bright, heavy, smiling eyes with a familiar mixture of arousal and irritation. Klavier grinned crookedly up at him, and made a vague motion towards Daryan's hip with his free hand.
"I was waiting on those files," he replied. Daryan fought the urge to smack him with them. Instead, he perched on the edge of Klavier's desk and, smirking slightly, began ostentatiously to read them. He could feel Klavier's glare.
"Let's get on with this, then," he said. "I couldn't find shit on the year the guy says he spent in Italy, so as far as I'm concerned - "
"Daryan," Klavier interrupted. It was probably meant to sound flirtatious, Daryan thought, but the effect was kind of ruined by the minor sulk he was audibly throwing. Daryan didn't take his eyes off the papers. "It can wait, can it not? I'm taking my lunch break."
It would have taken a stronger man than Daryan Crescend to ignore the booted foot that then dragged up his inside leg, and despite himself Daryan looked up, just like he knew Klavier wanted him to. Klavier was a fucking picture, spread over the chair with his fly undone and his cock out, hard and flushed and gorgeous in a way that Daryan still found kind of embarrassing, and damn it really was tempting just to give him what he obviously wanted. Daryan could deal with stroking Klavier's ego once in a while - it wasn't like he didn't get anything out of it himself. But still...
"So am I," said the part of him that still sort of resented being there. "And I just wasted half an hour of it coming over to see you. So let's get to work." Klavier narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at him. An infuriating smile crossed his face, slight, teasing, a little smug, the smile of someone who thought they had their partner in the palm of their hand. As Klavier's eyes fluttered shut, Daryan wished he could say he was wrong.
"Fine," Klavier sighed. "Let me just take care of this, ja?" He stroked himself once, slowly, letting out a soft meaningless murmur, and Daryan groaned aloud, unable to help himself. Klavier opened his eyes and grinned cockily at him. Something gave way in Daryan, and reluctantly, he smiled back. Why was it, he thought irritably, that this game never seemed to go his way?
Whatever. He wasn't about to turn down a private show from Klavier Gavin, and who knows what else after it. He hoisted himself up to sit cross-legged on Klavier's desk, which earned him another glare.
"You are sitting on my evidence," Klavier told him. Daryan smirked.
"Oh, so you do want to talk about work." Klavier glared at him again, but this time it was accompanied by a sly half-smile and slightly parted lips, and it succeeded in doing nothing except making Daryan's trousers feel tighter. Daryan pulled the file out from underneath him and ran an eye idly over it. He soon wished he hadn't; it was a particularly gruesome autopsy report. "If this is what's got you hot and bothered, Gavin, I'm seriously concerned for you," he quipped. Klavier laughed softly.
"Nein, it was the promise of your visit, baby," he corrected, winking at him. Daryan rolled his eyes. He hated it when Klavier did that. When Klavier flirted, it was impossible to tell how serious he was being; not that it mattered much, given that there was a part of Daryan it worked on anyway every. single. time. He was a fucking idiot for this man, he thought. He put the files on top of his abandoned jacket and eyed Klavier contemplatively. Like he always did when he was being watched, Klavier looked a bit out of it, eyes overbright, but Daryan thought he could see honest interest behind his vague and blissed-out smile. Although he had to admit, it was difficult to be too bothered either way when he had Klavier in front of him regardless, turned on and ready to perform.
"What exactly were you expecting I'd do when I got here?" he asked, dryly. He watched Klavier's hand begin to slide over his cock and drew in a long, shaky breath.
"I thought perhaps you would remember," Klavier murmured, his voice soft and sweet as he relaxed again into his own touch, "that you owe me from the last time I paid you a visit." Daryan laughed, although the sound got a little caught somewhere in his suddenly tight throat. A couple of weeks ago, Klavier had dropped in unannounced at Daryan's office, clearly furious with somebody or something at the precinct, and also, for whatever reason, horny like he was about to come out of a five-year dry spell. It had taken him all of about five minutes to get a still slightly bewildered Daryan bent over his desk and fucked so hard he'd nearly bitten through his lip to stop himself from screaming. A hot aching shiver ran through him at the memory, and he leaned forward slightly.
"What, you want me to make you come all over a morning's worth of work? Whatever that even is for you," he added, although there wasn't much of an edge to the words, Daryan too distracted by Klavier swallowing hard and writhing a little as he spoke. Klavier was an incurable flirt, and could make even the most innocent sentence sound filthy, but when it came down to it, getting right to the point was a surefire way to get him worked up, and one that Daryan happened to be pretty good at. "You won't be able to sit down for the rest of the afternoon," Daryan warned him. Klavier closed his eyes, hand starting to stroke a little faster, breath starting to come a little shorter.
"You forget, Herr Crescend," he replied, "that my desk chair is far more comfortable than yours." His hips arched slightly, and he swore under his breath. Daryan's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
"You need to get your ass off it if you want me to fuck you," Daryan pointed out. Klavier smiled and shook his head indolently.
"Ja, well," he said, voice a little breathy now, "you were a little later than I had expected." Yeah, sure I was, Daryan thought, not entirely convinced that Klavier hadn't planned this this way all along. He opened his mouth to say so, but the words died in his throat as Klavier shifted and stretched and with a low guttural groan hooked one leg over the arm of the chair. Daryan stared, dry-mouthed and wide-eyed, at the obscene angle of Klavier's taut, leather-clad thighs, at the curve of his ass lifted slightly off the seat, at his cock pushing up into his increasingly tight grip, and barely heard Klavier conclude, "So there's been a change of plans," over the sudden roaring in his ears.
"I'm here now," Daryan said, unsure exactly of what his point was. Just the thought of taking Klavier on this desk was enough to have Daryan hot and anxious and breathing heavily, but he found, as he watched Klavier slowly, languorously fucking his hand, his head falling back against the leather and his lips moving around quiet incoherent sounds, that his cock seemed to have no objections to Daryan not moving an inch. Klavier opened his eyes and looked Daryan over, a long, heavy, appraising look that set every nerve in Daryan's body on edge and drew a small embarrassing noise that definitely wasn't a whimper from somewhere in the back of his throat. Klavier smiled, lopsided and a little wild.
"So you are," he said at last. But he made no move to stand up, just bit his lip and picked up the pace of his strokes with a moan that Daryan involuntarily echoed. That was that decision made for him, then, he thought, sitting back on the desk (and when exactly, he wondered, had he started to lean so far forward he was nearly falling off?). Like things were ever going to play out any other way, really. Hopeless, Daryan thought, not unamused and not without affection, as he watched Klavier's face transform under the weight of Daryan's increasingly hungry gaze, watched him self-consciously and deliberately exaggerate his movements. Completely fucking hopeless. And one day, he told himself, trying and failing not to be utterly captivated, he will be the death of you.
It really was a virtuoso performance, from the arch, flamboyant, rhythmic piano-led soundtrack, right down to the tremble in the fingers of the hand curled around the arm of the chair and the tension in Klavier's dangling foot as his toes curled and the muscles of his leg extended into an exquisite stretch. It was unfair, it was indecent, it was really fucking annoying how gorgeous he looked, Daryan thought, dazed and lightheaded and by now almost uncomfortably aroused. And the longer Klavier's show went on, the more Daryan wanted to get his hands (or any other part of his body, really; he wasn't all that fussy) on him, wanted so desperately to touch him that he was becoming almost mindless with it. He could practically taste the sweat and cologne on Klavier's exposed throat, setting his jaw against the urge to lean over and sink his teeth in so he could feel the swallows and the groans and the hitching breaths he could hear and see moving through him. Daryan's nerves were screaming at him, getting more and more desperate for some kind of contact, and every inch of his body was tight and stiff with the effort of keeping still as his eyes slid restlessly and helplessly over the quick shuddering rise and fall of Klavier's chest, taking in the faint outlines of his hard nipples against the thin, expensive material of his shirt, and the line of pale hair visible where it was untucked and riding up, and god he wanted Klavier out of that chair and on his cock (and fuck Klavier's fucking solo act) so badly it almost hurt. He wanted handfuls of Klavier's spread and flexing thighs, wanted Klavier's ass pushing back against him, wanted Klavier's cock in his hand, and his fingers twitched eagerly as his gaze fixed on the rough, clumsy, erratic movements of Klavier's right hand.
"Amateur, Gavin," Daryan told him. "I could give a better handjob than that." He'd meant it to sound derisive, but it came out more like hopeful. Klavier raised his eyebrows.
"Feel free to take over at any time," Klavier offered, knowing perfectly well, Daryan thought, that he wouldn't. Hell, Daryan wasn't even touching himself, knowing from experience that if he did he would come before Klavier did, and frankly, it was humiliating enough already that he found Klavier so totally arresting that just looking at him could leave him pretty much paralysed. Daryan swore, a little unhappily. It had been five years, and Daryan'd lost count of how many fucks, but there were still times when he just couldn't even deal with what Klavier Gavin made him feel.
And yet...even as his hips jerked up and he moaned unrestrainedly, just a few strokes away from coming, Klavier was keeping his half-closed eyes fixed almost anxiously on Daryan, like he needed to make absolutely sure that Daryan was watching him. Consummate fucking performer, Daryan thought wryly, but it went a long way to silence those doubts and uncertanties that nagged at him every time things with Klavier went beyond his comfort zone. It reminded him that if nothing else, they were at least as beyond all fucking help as each other.
"Daryan," Klavier groaned, voice trailing off into a soft demanding whine, and it was enough to comprehensively screw over any lingering capacity Daryan still had for coherent thought. Daryan willingly gave Klavier all the attention he had to offer, finally losing himself in the show, mind and body so absorbed in Klavier's nonsensical cries and desperate movements that it seemed like everything he felt, the feverish heat of his skin, the tension in his muscles, the rawness of his nerves, the hard insistent ache in his cock, was an echo of Klavier's building climax. He was barely aware that he was gradually pulling his hair out of its long tail, that he was mumbling under his breath, curses, meaningless wanting sounds, Klavier's name, over and over and over again. His body strained towards Klavier as Klavier tensed and shuddered and panted for breath, and when at last Klavier came over his hand with a final choking cry the sudden release of tension felt almost like Daryan had followed straight after him.
For a minute, neither of them did anything at all, Daryan trying to regain some control of his senses, Klavier slumped quiet and trembling on the chair, coming down from the high of performing. Daryan breathed deeply, letting himself become conscious again of his own intense arousal. Time, he thought, for the encore. He lifted his eyes to Klavier, wondering if he had anything in particular in mind. Daryan couldn't say he was feeling especially imaginative; to be perfectly honest, he'd probably have been quite happy with Klavier just extending a leg so he could hump it. Klavier, though, was just frowning vaguely at the come on his hand. Daryan watched interestedly as he glanced around for something to wipe it off, feeling no real inclination to help. Apparently finding nothing, Klavier sighed resignedly and started licking his hand clean. Which was exactly what Daryan had been half hoping for, but it still pulled an almost involuntary moan of "Oh fuck, Klavier," out of him. Maybe he had a couple of ideas after all, Daryan thought, transfixed by the careful, thorough movements of Klavier's tongue.
But as Daryan stared, Klavier slid his fingers out of his mouth, the tips drawing wet lascivious lines over his lower lip, and much to a worked-up Daryan's bewilderment, instead of getting down on his knees in front of the desk, started tidying himself up, rearranging his clothes, combing his fingers through his hair, buttoning his fly. He sat forward, and made a credible attempt at a serious, businesslike face. Daryan gaped at him for a second before laughing, incredulously and a little hysterically. Un-fucking-believable.
"Oh no you fucking don't, Gavin," he said. "Don't think I came all the way up here just to watch you fucking show off." Klavier didn't move, watching Daryan thoughtfully, like he was trying to decide if they were still playing or not. No we most certainly are not, Daryan thought. Klavier owed him to start with for that bloody report - which had taken him the best part of two goddamn days to sort out for him - and playing the adoring fan to Klavier's latest egotrip as well definitely deserved at least a fucking blowjob, as far as Daryan was concerned. So he decided to let Klavier know he was absolutely serious. He slid awkwardly off the desk, moving so that Klavier was just about at eye level with his cock, and smirked down at him.
Klavier smiled back, a beautiful guileless smile that Daryan should really have known was extremely dangerous. Then, in one fluid movement, he twined his fingers in Daryan's tie and pulled him sharply down towards him. Daryan was already a little unsteady on his feet, and the sudden force threw him completely off-balance, sending him falling half into Klavier's lap. Flustered and a little cross, he struggled to right himself, shifting until he was kneeling on the chair between Klavier's still-spread legs, hands braced on Klavier's shoulders. He glared at Klavier. Now you really owe me, he decided, and was about to tell Klavier so when Klavier arched up underneath him and kissed him. It was a slow, thorough kiss, and Klavier held him through it, one hand gentle on the small of his back, the other stroking the hair sticking to his damp neck. The gesture was at once disarmingly intimate and indecently suggestive, and despite himself, for the first time all day, Daryan relaxed.
"Long morning?" Klavier murmured into his mouth. Daryan ran his tongue over Klavier's lower lip.
"Made even longer by running errands for you, asshole," he sighed. Klavier laughed quietly.
"I suppose I should make it up to you, then, ja?" he suggested. Klavier never did exactly sound sorry, Daryan thought. Not that it mattered, when he was always so very generous with his compensation.
"Damn fucking straight," he mumbled. He hesitated uncomfortably for a moment, but eventually kissed Klavier one last time, a quick, careful, uncharacteristically honest kiss, before disentangling himself from Klavier's warm, limp embrace and standing up. Still lounging in that ridiculous chair, Klavier watched him, looking him up and down with a lingering, thoughtful gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly in appreciation.
"You look good today," Klavier observed. A little surprised, Daryan looked down at his suit, by then a little rumpled and extremely sweaty. Not that Daryan didn't know perfectly well that even next to Klavier Gavin he was pretty hot shit, but he personally thought that he looked like a complete prick in a suit, just like everyone else who wore one.
"Meetings all morning," he said, by way of explanation. "Some of us are actually capable of being professional once in a while," he added with a lopsided smirk. Klavier glared half-heartedly at him, but apparently chose to rise above it.
"It sounds like you deserve a turn in the chair," Klavier said, with a sympathetic smile that was only a little mischevious. What I deserve is a little more appreciation round here, Daryan thought, but he couldn't muster any real bitterness, not with Klavier looking at him like that. He stepped back to allow Klavier room to finally get his ass up off the chair. As Klavier brushed deliberately against him, he toyed briefly with the idea of just grabbing hold of him and not letting go until he'd somehow got Daryan off. If he'd thought his legs could hold him that long, he probably would have done. As it was, he took Klavier's place on the chair. It wasn't even that comfortable. Bits were digging into him.
"Better, nicht wahr?" Klavier asked. Before Daryan had a chance to reply snidely, however, Klavier nudged his legs apart with his knee and knelt carefully down between them, and Daryan couldn't do jackshit other than swallow hard and bite back a whine. Luckily, Klavier didn't seem inclined to wait for an answer, getting straight to work on Daryan's clothes. At fucking last, Daryan thought, as Klavier untucked his shirt and unfastened his belt and what little blood had been left in Daryan's brain suddenly upped and left. Klavier's touch burned where it skimmed across his bare skin, and by the time Klavier was pulling his trousers and underwear down just about far enough to get his cock out properly, Daryan was once again tense and shaking and gritting his teeth against begging while trying to find the words to tell Klavier to stop fucking staring at it like it was about to do tricks or something and just. fucking. get on with it. At last, Klavier looked up. Daryan's face heated right up under the intense weight of his stare; he squirmed impatiently, hissing out shallow breaths through his nose, as Klavier reached a hand up to idly finger the end of Daryan's tie.
"Suits you," Klavier told him, decidedly, and sucked the head of Daryan's cock into his mouth. Daryan's hips arched up off the seat and he cried out before he could help himself. With the last remaining shreds of his composure, common sense and self-consciousness, he sat forward and jerked his head anxiously towards the door.
"For fuck's sake, lock it, Gavin. I'll give you two minutes," he breathed. Klavier lifted his head, drawing an indignant groan from Daryan.
"I don't know how things work down in the precinct, Detective," he replied, "but here most people do not walk into my office without knocking." Then how come they haven't rubbed off on you, Daryan wanted to say - Klavier had no fucking sense of privacy whatsoever - but the retort died on its ass on Daryan's lips, replaced by a weak moan as with an obscenely satisfied sound Klavier took his cock back into his mouth. Daryan collapsed back onto the chair and let Klavier begin taking him apart with lips and tongue. Credit where credit's due, Daryan had to admit, he had never met anyone who gave better head than Klavier Gavin, no one who seemed to enjoy it quite so much, and definitely no one who looked as good doing it. Klavier's bangs were falling so artfully into his eyes Daryan would almost have sworn he'd somehow done it on purpose; his open mouth and hollowing cheeks were so filthily beautiful that Daryan was glad he didn't have to try and stay on his feet while staring down at that, and he looked almost drugged with pleasure, eyes half-closed, lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners.
Daryan couldn't take his eyes off him and this, he thought, needing it too badly to really care, was going to be over embarrassingly quickly. He could feel himself getting close already, muscles tightening, vision clouding, blood pulsing hard through him, feeling and watching Klavier's mouth work around him. He knotted his hands in Klavier's hair and hooked his legs over Klavier's shoulders, heels digging into Klavier's back as he arched his hips shamelessly upwards.
When Klavier pulled away, Daryan almost howled.
"Don't you dare fucking stop, Gavin," he gasped, a mess of agonisingly raw, overstimulated nerves and in no mood to play any more fucking games. He stared almost blindly down at Klavier, who had started fumbling around underneath the chair with a look of concentration that Daryan hated himself for finding so endearing. Daryan didn't know what he was doing and didn't care; whatever he'd found, whatever he'd dropped, whatever he was looking for, whatever, it could damn well fucking wait. Then Klavier smiled triumphantly, and Daryan had just about enough time to be completely baffled before the goddamn chair was moving around him and he was crying out a garbled, cracked approximation of "Oh fucking god!"
It felt like five pair of expert hands touching him in places he hadn't even known he wanted to be touched, digging hard into the nape of his neck, the hollows under his shoulderblades, the small of his back, his ass and the backs of his thighs, and it was reducing him to a panting, writhing, moaning wreck without Klavier having even started sucking him off again. He opened his bleary eyes (and he had no fucking idea which almost violent sensation had made him screw them tightly shut) and tried to focus on Klavier, who was smiling that dark, heavy smile that always made Daryan thank the fates for letting him ever cross paths with Klavier Gavin.
"I told you you should get yourself one of these," Klavier remarked, before finally, Daryan thought euphorically, stopping all this dicking about and starting to suck Daryan like he actually meant it. Daryan's head fell back against the chair and he made up his mind to take back every bad word he had ever said about flouncing foppish princess prosecutors and their stupid flashy office furniture, because Klavier's hands were holding his hips down, pressing him back so hard into the grinding movements of the chair that the convulsions it sent through him were an addictive cocktail of blissful pleasure and almost nauseating pain, and together with the wet heat of Klavier's mouth around his cock it was enough to undo him. His hands fisted anxiously in Klavier's hair, nails dragging down the nape of his neck, unashamedly desperate now for Klavier not to stop, Klavier's unexpectedly strong grip the only thing keeping him from just clumsily fucking his mouth. Klavier moaned softly around him, the sound bleeding into the thick incoherent noises Daryan was panting out with every quick, laboured breath.
If it hadn't been for Klavier's sudden, maddening stillness, the knock on the door might not have registered at all. As it was, it still took a while for it to sink in through the overwhelming, disorienting, almost unbearable sensation of being abandoned right on the brink of coming with that fucking chair still working his taut and sensitive muscles, for a wordless, unformed panic to creep hot and sick and tight into his temples. Breathing heavily, dizzy and worked-up and barely capable of coherent thought, he stared helplessly at Klavier. He didn't know what he was more worried about, that Klavier might keep going, or that he might stop.
Slowly, like he was moving through water, Klavier lifted his head as far as the tense, vise-like grip of Daryan's long legs would allow. One hand strayed to his mouth, lips and teeth scraping thoughtfully over the pad of his thumb, nails and fingertips shifting in restless, unconscious caresses over his collarbone.
His thoughts were written all over his face, and Daryan was suddenly, irrationally angry. Maybe normally he wouldn't have given a fuck, but this was the Prosecutor's Office, and he couldn't quite believe that even Klavier would want to get caught here, and either fucking way, he thought, he was not going to let Klavier make even this about what Klavier fucking Gavin wants. He shook his head.
"Klavier - ," he began, warningly. One corner of Klavier's mouth turned up.
"Eine minuten, bitte," he called, voice incriminatingly rough and tremulous. Daryan's eyes widened anxiously. He opened his mouth to tell Klavier exactly what a monumentally bad idea this was, just as Klavier bent his head back down and took him deep into his mouth with a happy, strung-out groan, sucking hard and swallowing around his cock, and all that came out was a choked moan of Klavier's name, half-muffled by the hand that Daryan just about managed to get to his mouth in time. Klavier released his hold on Daryan's hips, and with a couple of quick, jerky thrusts, the panic and the tension and the exhilaration and the desperate, ambivalent need to just get this over with overtook him and he came, hard and fast and almost silent, into Klavier's mouth.
For a minute or two, Daryan just lay there uselessly, mind blissfully blank, blood ringing in his ears, breath coming quick and shallow, bright spots blurring the edges of his vision. The chair was still moving around him, the feeling almost torturous to his wrung-out, oversensitive body. He closed his eyes and rode out the aftershocks, groaning weakly at the tremors that shuddered through him from the motion of the chair and Klavier's lingering touches.
He was brought back to his senses in the end by Klavier's half-hearted, ineffectual pushing at his thighs. Opening his eyes, he let his legs fall apart and off Klavier's shoulders, allowing Klavier at last to stand up. Klavier stretched ostentatiously, grimacing as he straightened out his legs, before flashing an extremely smug smile at Daryan and turning to the door. Daryan spluttered with breathless, slightly delirious laughter.
"Tell me you're not going to answer the door like that," he said. Klavier's hair was a mess, his lips were wet and swollen and full of colour, his eyes were lidded and glassy, and even if none of those things had been true the shit-eating grin on his face would still have made it glaringly obvious what he'd just been doing. Klavier ignored him and sauntered a little unsteadily over to the door. Daryan shook his head, half despairing, half entertained despite himself. He reached clumsily down beneath the seat to turn the chair off, tidied himself up as much as he could be bothered, and relaxed limply back against the leather, vaguely and absently contemplating just what a strange man Klavier Gavin was.
"Fraulein Detective Skye," he heard Klavier exclaim. Daryan craned his neck just in time to see Klavier bow extravangantly. He rolled his eyes.
"You know, I really don't have the time for you to be keeping me waiting," snapped the familiar voice. "Some of have jobs to do, not just short-lived amateur shows to put on for an audience of one." Daryan snickered. He had always liked Skye, ever since that time at the Christmas party when she had tipped a drink into a totally wasted Klavier's lap in response to his magnanimous and spectacularly charmless offer of a fuck.
"Of course, of course," Klavier said, sounding contrite enough that anyone other than Daryan and Skye would have been fooled, he thought. "My apologies. What is it that I can do for you, Detective?" Daryan heard a slap that was the unmistakeable sound of a file being violently thrust into Klavier's chest.
"Handwriting analysis you asked for. Match with the suspect." That was interesting, Daryan, thought, mind straying back onto the case. "I've - "
"Detective Skye," Klavier interrupted. Daryan winced preemptively. "You have my eternal gratitude. A thousand thank yous." Daryan didn't need to see Skye to be able to picture the look on her face. He wondered idly if she'd finally slap him this time. "But if you will excuse me, I'm afraid that I too am a little short on time, ja? Detective Crescend has brought me the background checks I asked for - " Oh, you utter bastard, Daryan thought, if she'd known I was coming over it would have saved her the trip and I am going to be in such deep shit now " - and I imagine going over them will take most of the afternoon." Daryan met Skye's eyes over Klavier's shoulder and shrugged apologetically. Skye looked exasperated and thoroughly fucked off, but not particularly shocked. Another thing he quite liked about her. "I will, of course, pass on the results of our work," Klavier continued smoothly. Skye now looked, Daryan thought, like she wanted to tell Klavier to go fuck himself with the results of his work. Daryan kind of hoped she would. Skye could throw tantrums to rival Klavier's, and if anyone could tell Klavier what a complete and total piece of shit he could be sometimes, it was her.
"Why break the habit of a lifetime," she remarked acidly, "by pretending that anyone actually matters in this whole circus other than you? Besides," she added, "I can't imagine why you'd think anyone but you would be interested in anything the pair of you could produce." Ouch, Daryan thought. Hit him where it hurts, right in the band.
Skye walked off before Klavier had a chance to respond, and Daryan watched as Klavier closed the door and crossed the room to his desk, barely acknowledging Daryan's presence. He perched elegantly on the edge of the table, crossing one leg over the other like a girl, and picked up the papers that Daryan had brought, looking absorbedly at them. Apparently, now it was time to get to work. The last track of the album faded out into the silence that suddenly stretched between them, and Daryan fidgeted aimlessly, feeling a little prickly.
"One day," he said to Klavier, "you are going to get fired for something like this, and I will laugh my ass off." Klavier looked up, turning his attention back to Daryan. He looked quiet and relaxed and content and unreasonably lovely, and he smiled, a sweet, uncomplicated smile that Daryan hadn't seen since he'd got there.
"Nein, I get the work done, do I not? What more can they ask of me?" Klavier asked, with a serene confidence that Daryan just didn't know what to say to. His stomach lurched unpleasantly as he met Klavier's eyes. Klavier really was more, sometimes, than he could take. Seriously high maintenance, he thought, shoving aside the tangle of other half-formed thoughts that were beginning to surface in his rapidly clearing head. He watched Klavier flick through the file in his hands, an appealingly serious set to his features. "You managed to turn up a lot here," Klavier murmured, eyes skimming thoughtfully over the pages. "This actually might keep us busy all afternoon. A shame." He glanced up, a look in his eyes that Daryan still wasn't good at dealing with. "Excellent work as always, Herr Detective."
Sometimes Daryan sort of wished it wasn't so totally worth it.
*