PW, "The Slow Ascent after the Sharpest Drop: XII," Apollo/Klavier, NC-17
The strangest thing happened, with this chapter. It's got some porn in it (finally, what the hell's up with this arc, being all plot with only a few sections of yummy?) but when I got to the point where the smut should happen ... I didn't feel like writing smut. I skipped down and went on with the story, and only after I'd got that finished did I go back and fill in the porn.
That's like ... unheard of, for me. I wonder if perhaps I'm getting old. *sigh*
Anyway, here's the twelfth chapter of the story I expected to take five chapters, hahaha. >_< I hope you like it. I hate it because of things unrelated to this story, but that's tl;dr, so we'll move on.
Look for chapter 13 soon, I'm in the mood to get started on it right now. Nevermind, tacked what I had for 13 onto the end of this chapter, so ... we'll see where things go on getting 13 done. :D
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
The Slow Ascent after the Sharpest Drop
Part XII
by mistr3ss Quickly
Time is money but talk is cheap, Dr. Henderson-Apollo's least favorite professor in law school-had said, over and over again. Not to mention effective. Talk can get you more info than you'd ever hope to get with an investigation, and if you know how to talk right, you can get everything short of a confession out of anyone, even folks who aren't guilty of anything.
He'd laughed, each time he'd said it. Held his mouth crooked when he laughed, like he knew just how uncomfortable his words were making the majority of his students feel.
Standing outside his lover's door, hand raised to knock, Apollo swallows hard, and wonders if perhaps the old man hadn't been onto something, stressing the importance of talk, of slowly changing others' perspectives with nothing more forceful than a few carefully-chosen words.
"Klavier?" he says, rapping his knuckles against the painted wood. "Can I come in?"
Not may I come in, because that would sound too formal, too stiff and probably too angry, which is not what he wants to communicate. Instead, can I come in, which will come off as more childlike. Scared. Vulnerable.
Which makes Apollo's temper rise, just a little, because he's not.
Really.
Inside the bedroom there's a squeak-the mattress-and a thump-Klavier getting out of bed, followed by three footsteps, the click as the doorknob turns. Not locked.
"They've gone, then?" Klavier says, his voice turning away from Apollo, feet slapping against the floorboards-bare, he's taken off his socks. "Herr Wright and the little fräulein?"
Apollo nods, feeling his way into the room.
The bed squeaks.
Cotton shifts.
Klavier sighs.
"I apologize," he says, just as Apollo's found the foot of the bed, fingertips feeling along the rumpled sheets. "I was-I am-not angry with you. I should not have taken my temper out on you."
Even. Rehearsed. Just as planned as the words Apollo's been preparing to say. The mark of any half-trained law student, let alone an seasoned veteran of the courtroom.
In any other situation, the irony would have made Apollo laugh.
But he doesn't laugh, climbing into bed to sit, facing the even in-and-out of his lover's breathing. Doesn't even feel like laughing, his burns pulling painfully as he frowns, reaching out.
He finds Klavier's arm, touches him just below the elbow. Hears the man move, hair scrubbing against the pillowcase.
"It's okay," he says. "I know it's frustrating."
Klavier snorts. "Frustrating," he repeats. "It is infuriating. Herr Wright has been acting as if I am an incompetent child since the beginning of this mess, even though it was his own negligence that-ahem. That is to say, I have grown very tired of his attitude towards us, you and me. And his insistence upon using his position of authority to gain agreement with his views of things."
He moves, takes Apollo's hand in his own. "It makes me crazy," he says, quietly. "But, even so, I should not have taken out my anger on you."
His hand's shaking a little. Fingers cold against Apollo's.
Apollo lifts them. Presses his lips to the tip of each.
"Apology accepted," he says.
The bed shakes under him as his lover sits up, the motion unbalancing him just enough that he doesn't resist unfolding his legs, rolling onto his back as Klavier pushes him down gently towards the cool sheets, the soft pillows.
"I love you," Klavier breathes, hovering almost close enough to be kissed, "so much, and I am so afraid for you."
Apollo reaches up. Touches his lover's cheek, faintly rough with the day's stubble.
"I love you, too," he says. "And I'm scared too, but ..." He frowns. "Not as much, somehow. It's good to have some clues, to know we're moving in the right direction."
Klavier nods, scrubbing stubble against Apollo's palm. Dips down to kiss Apollo on the lips, then moves, stretches out on his side beside the younger man, resting his palm on Apollo's chest.
"I am surprised that Kristoph was willing to speak with you," he says. "Pleased, of course, but surprised. I had thought he would refuse."
"Nah," says Apollo. "He was just ... I don't think it was a good idea for us to go in together, actually. When it was just me, he-well, he still made some jokes-but it was okay, I could take it. He said it was the same when you went to see him alone, too." He chuckles, turns to face the sound of his lover's breathing. "Actually, he said it was less fun, dealing with us separately. Said not to tell you that, but."
"Mmm."
He covers Klavier's hand with his own. "He said it surprised him, to see you reacting like you did when he was teasing me."
Klavier snorts. "He has never been one to willingly deal with reality unless it is forced down his throat," he says. "I have, of course, made it clear to him that we are together, and that you are important to me, but he has never been forced to face the reality of it. Until now, that is."
Apollo squeezes his lover's hand. "It bothered me, too, at first," he says.
"Yes, I know," Klavier says. "You told me so the first time I served you too much wine with your dinner. You said you were afraid of my brother, that he would come to kill you for sweeping me off my feet."
"I ... what?"
Klavier chuckles. "You were very, very drunk, baby," he says, shifting to press a kiss to Apollo's temple. "I felt it would be embarrassing to you, so I did not remind you of it in the morning."
Apollo moans. "Oh god." A moment. Then: "Wait. I remember that. We weren't even da-we were still just friends at that point, weren't we?"
"Mmm. We were. But it was so good to know that you were interested in being more."
Apollo covers his face with his hand. "Oh god."
Klavier laughs and pulls his hand away, kisses him. Takes the kiss long when Apollo moans softly into it, squirming against him.
"My dear, blushing Forehead," he says, trailing kisses between the burns on his lover's face, down the younger man's neck, his hands fumbling blindly with the buttons of Apollo's shirt. "My Apollo. Oh, baby."
Apollo yelps, arching and tangling the fingers of his good hand in Klavier's hair when the older man spreads his shirt open and mouths his nipple through the fabric of his undershirt. Moans when Klavier moves his kisses lower, pushing Apollo's undershirt out of the way to bite and lick at the younger man's navel.
"That feels good," he says, breath hitching as Klavier unfastens his trousers.
"Oh?" says Klavier. "Well. It will be feeling much better than this, very soon, I think."
He tugs at Apollo's briefs, pulling them down along with the younger man's trousers when Apollo lifts his hips. Hums softly, pressing a kiss to the shaft of Apollo's cock, tongue slipping under the younger man's foreskin to lick at the head.
Apollo goes completely still, holding his breath. Exhales on a shout when Klavier stops licking and sucks him into his mouth, taking him all the way in one deep swallow.
"K-Klavier," he whispers. "That's ... really good."
His lover hums in answer and draws him out on a slow, hard suck. Holds him steady at the root with one hand, tongue busy pushing Apollo's foreskin back, his long hair brushing ticklishly over Apollo's thighs. Dips back down to suck him deep, once again, swallowing when Apollo cries out and thrusts, the hand tangled in his hair pulling hard.
"Try not to make me prematurely bald, baby," he scolds gently, drawing Apollo's cock out of his throat and licking at the head.
"Sorry," Apollo whispers, moving his hand to the sheets.
Klavier chuckles. "I will take it as a compliment, ja?"
Then he takes Apollo in deep, once again, before the younger man has a chance to answer. Swallows once around the head, then tightens his grip on Apollo's hip, moving in a sudden, steady rhythm.
Apollo moans and arches, pressing his head into the soft cotton of his lover's pillow. Klavier has always been exceptional and unrestrained during oral sex, knowing always exactly how fast to move, how much suction to apply. It's a skill he takes great pride in, and has since the first time Apollo grew tired of his bragging and told him to shut up about it and show me, if you're so good at it, then proceeded to turn to jelly after half a minute of his demonstration.
He claims it's due to the strength his tongue has built over the years of singing in two different languages. Apollo doubts that, but has never argued, usually too distracted or too sated to put forth the necessary effort.
It hardly matters, anyway. Klavier's skill and determination before were more than enough to fill Apollo's fantasies, nights when the younger man was left alone to take care of himself. Now, with his other senses heightened in the absence of his sight, Apollo finds himself overwhelmed anew by his lover's ministrations, the slick rub of Klavier's tongue against the underside of his cock, the rough push of Klavier's mouth against the head, forcing it back into his throat.
When orgasm comes, it's sudden and devastating, Apollo's balls pulling up so tight that it's nearly painful, his entire body tensing for a long, hot second before he comes, giving nothing but a broken shout to warn his lover. Klavier grunts in surprise but takes it, swallows the first shots of semen before sealing his lips tight just under the head of Apollo's cock, swallowing leisurely and licking the younger man clean while Apollo lies boneless beneath him, moaning softly and trying to remember how to breathe.
"Mmm. Good enough for you, baby?" Klavier asks, as Apollo begins to go soft.
Apollo whimpers and grabs him by the hair, pulls him up roughly for a sloppy, messy kiss, the flavor of his own semen flooding his senses when Klavier growls and kisses him back.
"Good," he gasps, reaching down awkwardly to palm Klavier's erection through the man's pants. "So good."
Klavier hums and rocks his hips, gently humping Apollo's hand. "Good," he says. "I love to take care of you, baby. In our bed, in the bath ... anywhere, everywhere."
Apollo feels himself blushing. Gives his lover's cock an affectionate squeeze.
Above him, Klavier groans. Moves faster, grinding into Apollo's palm. "Let me," he whispers, "let me ... take care of you, baby."
He shudders, whimpers. Thrusts hard into Apollo's hand.
"Let me put them awa-aah-away. For you. The men who-ngh, oh baby ..."
Two sharp thrusts, and then he stills, gasping breath as he comes, making a mess of his underwear, his breathing fast, ragged.
"Gott in Himmel," he breathes, leaning down for a kiss.
"Mmm," says Apollo, opening his mouth for his lover's tongue.
It's Klavier who pulls away from the kiss, answering Apollo's little sigh with a chuckle and an explanation that I have made a mess of myself, baby. Apollo laughs softly and lets him go, climbing out of bed as well to change out of his suit into a soft pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He hears his lover finish in the bathroom, hears the click of the light being switched off and the thump of Klavier's footsteps. Knows the touch of his lover's hands is coming even before he feels it, Klavier's long fingers tickling him a little as he pulls him close from behind, cheek pressed to the side of Apollo's head.
"I had forgotten just how much I love making up with you after a fight, baby," Klavier murmurs to him.
Apollo sighs. Puts his hands over Klavier's.
"Klavier," he says. "Please. Try to understand. I ... I know you'd do your best, but-" A deep breath. "You're not prosecuting this case. None of us wants you to. Not me, not Mr. Wright. Not your brother."
He feels Klavier tense against him. Feels what can only be his heart breaking, the ache in his chest making his eyes prickle.
"I'm sorry," he says, when Klavier's touch disappears. "I know you want to, and I appreciate your willingness. Please, try to understand."
His lover snorts. "No, Apollo," he says. "I doubt that I will ever understand."
He turns and leaves the room, slamming the bedroom door behind himself. This time, Apollo doesn't go after him.
~*~*~*~
One week passes.
A week of Mr. Wright coming by during the day, sometimes bringing with him the smell of the police station and information learned from the detectives there. A week of Klavier visiting his brother in prison, silently angry whenever Apollo comes with him and has to ask him to step outside so that he can speak with Kristoph alone. A week of Trucy sighing a lot and grumbling just come live with us, Polly, get away from Mr. Grumpypants already, under her breath.
Then at eight o'clock in the morning on the eighth day since Apollo's first solo visit with Kristoph, Klavier's cell phone rings, and things begin to change.
"Ja, this is he," he says, picking up halfway through the second ring, still lying in bed beside Apollo. "Ah. I see. Go ahead."
A moment. Muffled speaking from the other end of the phone.
Then suddenly, Klavier sits up, the bed squeaking as he launches himself out of it.
"Wait one moment, let me-verdammt-let me find a pen."
He leaves the room, not quite running but close to it. Ends up in the kitchen, where Apollo hears him say all right, continue please. Moves a chair away from the table, its legs scraping against the linoleum, making enough noise to obscure whatever he says next.
Apollo sighs and slides out of bed. Feels his way down the hall to the kitchen, following the sound of scratching-pencil on paper rather than pen-and his lover's voice, murmuring softly.
"At what time, please?" Klavier is saying, as Apollo reaches the doorway and steps into the kitchen. "Ah, wait one moment."
He sets his phone down and stands, crosses to Apollo and takes him by the hand, leading him over to one of the chairs. Returns to his own seat and picks up his phone, switching it to speakerphone before setting it back down on the table.
"Apologies," he says, reaching across the table to give Apollo's hand a squeeze. "Go ahead."
~*~*~*~
One hour passes.
An hour of Klavier and Apollo working together seamlessly, pressing the poor detective on the phone for details and clarification and information until they're satisfied and let the man go, thanking him for his cooperation. An hour of waiting for Mr. Wright to call in sick at the Borscht Bowl and take the mid-morning bus to Klavier's flat. An hour of Klavier pacing while Apollo thinks out loud, the older man interjecting every so often with his own thoughts.
By ten o'clock, Mr. Wright has arrived and listened to the new evidence provided by the police department. Added his own insights to the situation. Accepted Klavier's enthusiastic offer of a cup of coffee.
"It is practically an open-and-shut case," Klavier says, from the kitchen. "Thanks to Herr Forehead's careful defense, before."
Apollo feels his face heat. "I was just after the truth," he says. "That's my job. Just what I'm supposed to do."
Mr. Wright chuckles. "Still. It's rare, these days, for attorneys to go as far as you did," he says.
"Unfortunately," says Klavier, returning and settling on the sofa beside Apollo, his hand resting on the younger man's knee. "It will make the case terribly simple for the prosecution, ja? And safe, I can see no risk for any man in putting this demon behind bars."
The room goes still, silence broken only by the gurgle and hiss of the coffee-maker.
It's Mr. Wright who breaks the silence, finally, clearing his throat and shifting, the overstuffed armchair groaning in protest. "Well," he says, "speaking of prosecution, I made a few calls before coming over. Found an old friend who owes me a favor, he said he'd be more than happy to offer his services on this case."
"I was not aware that it was your responsibility to select prosecutors, Herr Wright," Klavier says.
"Oh, it isn't," Mr. Wright says, lightly. "But it is my duty as an informed citizen to safeguard those in the legal system from biased parties who do not have the maturity or self-restraint to know when they should step down."
Klavier tenses. "Herr Wright," he growls, "I would kindly ask you to take that back."
Apollo sighs. "Stop it, both of you," he says. "Klavier, he's right, we've talked about this. It's not right for you to work on this case, and we all know it. Mr. Wright, stop picking on him about it, he really wants to do this for me and you're not making it any easier for him to back down." He pauses. Feels for Klavier's hand. Laces their fingers together. "Now. Tell us a little about your prosecutor friend. Please."
Mr. Wright chuckles. "Ever heard of the Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth?" he says. "Manfred VonKarma's prodigious foster son?"
"Of course," Klavier says. "Anyone who has studied law in this country knows of him. He is a legend. One which disappeared from active practice years ago, without a trace."
"Well," says Mr. Wright. "I guess this case is a good enough comeback for him, because he's offered to fight it for us, and he's promised to win."
Klavier swallows. Squeezes Apollo's hand.
"If Herr Forehead is comfortable with it," he says, finally, "then you will hear no objection from me."
Apollo squeezes back. "Sounds good," he says to Mr. Wright. Then, turning towards his lover, he adds: "Thank you."
Klavier snorts softly and kisses him on the forehead. "You're welcome, baby," he says. "I simply hope that this is the right thing to do."
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That's like ... unheard of, for me. I wonder if perhaps I'm getting old. *sigh*
Anyway, here's the twelfth chapter of the story I expected to take five chapters, hahaha. >_< I hope you like it. I hate it because of things unrelated to this story, but that's tl;dr, so we'll move on.
Look for chapter 13 soon, I'm in the mood to get started on it right now. Nevermind, tacked what I had for 13 onto the end of this chapter, so ... we'll see where things go on getting 13 done. :D
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
The Slow Ascent after the Sharpest Drop
Part XII
by mistr3ss Quickly
Time is money but talk is cheap, Dr. Henderson-Apollo's least favorite professor in law school-had said, over and over again. Not to mention effective. Talk can get you more info than you'd ever hope to get with an investigation, and if you know how to talk right, you can get everything short of a confession out of anyone, even folks who aren't guilty of anything.
He'd laughed, each time he'd said it. Held his mouth crooked when he laughed, like he knew just how uncomfortable his words were making the majority of his students feel.
Standing outside his lover's door, hand raised to knock, Apollo swallows hard, and wonders if perhaps the old man hadn't been onto something, stressing the importance of talk, of slowly changing others' perspectives with nothing more forceful than a few carefully-chosen words.
"Klavier?" he says, rapping his knuckles against the painted wood. "Can I come in?"
Not may I come in, because that would sound too formal, too stiff and probably too angry, which is not what he wants to communicate. Instead, can I come in, which will come off as more childlike. Scared. Vulnerable.
Which makes Apollo's temper rise, just a little, because he's not.
Really.
Inside the bedroom there's a squeak-the mattress-and a thump-Klavier getting out of bed, followed by three footsteps, the click as the doorknob turns. Not locked.
"They've gone, then?" Klavier says, his voice turning away from Apollo, feet slapping against the floorboards-bare, he's taken off his socks. "Herr Wright and the little fräulein?"
Apollo nods, feeling his way into the room.
The bed squeaks.
Cotton shifts.
Klavier sighs.
"I apologize," he says, just as Apollo's found the foot of the bed, fingertips feeling along the rumpled sheets. "I was-I am-not angry with you. I should not have taken my temper out on you."
Even. Rehearsed. Just as planned as the words Apollo's been preparing to say. The mark of any half-trained law student, let alone an seasoned veteran of the courtroom.
In any other situation, the irony would have made Apollo laugh.
But he doesn't laugh, climbing into bed to sit, facing the even in-and-out of his lover's breathing. Doesn't even feel like laughing, his burns pulling painfully as he frowns, reaching out.
He finds Klavier's arm, touches him just below the elbow. Hears the man move, hair scrubbing against the pillowcase.
"It's okay," he says. "I know it's frustrating."
Klavier snorts. "Frustrating," he repeats. "It is infuriating. Herr Wright has been acting as if I am an incompetent child since the beginning of this mess, even though it was his own negligence that-ahem. That is to say, I have grown very tired of his attitude towards us, you and me. And his insistence upon using his position of authority to gain agreement with his views of things."
He moves, takes Apollo's hand in his own. "It makes me crazy," he says, quietly. "But, even so, I should not have taken out my anger on you."
His hand's shaking a little. Fingers cold against Apollo's.
Apollo lifts them. Presses his lips to the tip of each.
"Apology accepted," he says.
The bed shakes under him as his lover sits up, the motion unbalancing him just enough that he doesn't resist unfolding his legs, rolling onto his back as Klavier pushes him down gently towards the cool sheets, the soft pillows.
"I love you," Klavier breathes, hovering almost close enough to be kissed, "so much, and I am so afraid for you."
Apollo reaches up. Touches his lover's cheek, faintly rough with the day's stubble.
"I love you, too," he says. "And I'm scared too, but ..." He frowns. "Not as much, somehow. It's good to have some clues, to know we're moving in the right direction."
Klavier nods, scrubbing stubble against Apollo's palm. Dips down to kiss Apollo on the lips, then moves, stretches out on his side beside the younger man, resting his palm on Apollo's chest.
"I am surprised that Kristoph was willing to speak with you," he says. "Pleased, of course, but surprised. I had thought he would refuse."
"Nah," says Apollo. "He was just ... I don't think it was a good idea for us to go in together, actually. When it was just me, he-well, he still made some jokes-but it was okay, I could take it. He said it was the same when you went to see him alone, too." He chuckles, turns to face the sound of his lover's breathing. "Actually, he said it was less fun, dealing with us separately. Said not to tell you that, but."
"Mmm."
He covers Klavier's hand with his own. "He said it surprised him, to see you reacting like you did when he was teasing me."
Klavier snorts. "He has never been one to willingly deal with reality unless it is forced down his throat," he says. "I have, of course, made it clear to him that we are together, and that you are important to me, but he has never been forced to face the reality of it. Until now, that is."
Apollo squeezes his lover's hand. "It bothered me, too, at first," he says.
"Yes, I know," Klavier says. "You told me so the first time I served you too much wine with your dinner. You said you were afraid of my brother, that he would come to kill you for sweeping me off my feet."
"I ... what?"
Klavier chuckles. "You were very, very drunk, baby," he says, shifting to press a kiss to Apollo's temple. "I felt it would be embarrassing to you, so I did not remind you of it in the morning."
Apollo moans. "Oh god." A moment. Then: "Wait. I remember that. We weren't even da-we were still just friends at that point, weren't we?"
"Mmm. We were. But it was so good to know that you were interested in being more."
Apollo covers his face with his hand. "Oh god."
Klavier laughs and pulls his hand away, kisses him. Takes the kiss long when Apollo moans softly into it, squirming against him.
"My dear, blushing Forehead," he says, trailing kisses between the burns on his lover's face, down the younger man's neck, his hands fumbling blindly with the buttons of Apollo's shirt. "My Apollo. Oh, baby."
Apollo yelps, arching and tangling the fingers of his good hand in Klavier's hair when the older man spreads his shirt open and mouths his nipple through the fabric of his undershirt. Moans when Klavier moves his kisses lower, pushing Apollo's undershirt out of the way to bite and lick at the younger man's navel.
"That feels good," he says, breath hitching as Klavier unfastens his trousers.
"Oh?" says Klavier. "Well. It will be feeling much better than this, very soon, I think."
He tugs at Apollo's briefs, pulling them down along with the younger man's trousers when Apollo lifts his hips. Hums softly, pressing a kiss to the shaft of Apollo's cock, tongue slipping under the younger man's foreskin to lick at the head.
Apollo goes completely still, holding his breath. Exhales on a shout when Klavier stops licking and sucks him into his mouth, taking him all the way in one deep swallow.
"K-Klavier," he whispers. "That's ... really good."
His lover hums in answer and draws him out on a slow, hard suck. Holds him steady at the root with one hand, tongue busy pushing Apollo's foreskin back, his long hair brushing ticklishly over Apollo's thighs. Dips back down to suck him deep, once again, swallowing when Apollo cries out and thrusts, the hand tangled in his hair pulling hard.
"Try not to make me prematurely bald, baby," he scolds gently, drawing Apollo's cock out of his throat and licking at the head.
"Sorry," Apollo whispers, moving his hand to the sheets.
Klavier chuckles. "I will take it as a compliment, ja?"
Then he takes Apollo in deep, once again, before the younger man has a chance to answer. Swallows once around the head, then tightens his grip on Apollo's hip, moving in a sudden, steady rhythm.
Apollo moans and arches, pressing his head into the soft cotton of his lover's pillow. Klavier has always been exceptional and unrestrained during oral sex, knowing always exactly how fast to move, how much suction to apply. It's a skill he takes great pride in, and has since the first time Apollo grew tired of his bragging and told him to shut up about it and show me, if you're so good at it, then proceeded to turn to jelly after half a minute of his demonstration.
He claims it's due to the strength his tongue has built over the years of singing in two different languages. Apollo doubts that, but has never argued, usually too distracted or too sated to put forth the necessary effort.
It hardly matters, anyway. Klavier's skill and determination before were more than enough to fill Apollo's fantasies, nights when the younger man was left alone to take care of himself. Now, with his other senses heightened in the absence of his sight, Apollo finds himself overwhelmed anew by his lover's ministrations, the slick rub of Klavier's tongue against the underside of his cock, the rough push of Klavier's mouth against the head, forcing it back into his throat.
When orgasm comes, it's sudden and devastating, Apollo's balls pulling up so tight that it's nearly painful, his entire body tensing for a long, hot second before he comes, giving nothing but a broken shout to warn his lover. Klavier grunts in surprise but takes it, swallows the first shots of semen before sealing his lips tight just under the head of Apollo's cock, swallowing leisurely and licking the younger man clean while Apollo lies boneless beneath him, moaning softly and trying to remember how to breathe.
"Mmm. Good enough for you, baby?" Klavier asks, as Apollo begins to go soft.
Apollo whimpers and grabs him by the hair, pulls him up roughly for a sloppy, messy kiss, the flavor of his own semen flooding his senses when Klavier growls and kisses him back.
"Good," he gasps, reaching down awkwardly to palm Klavier's erection through the man's pants. "So good."
Klavier hums and rocks his hips, gently humping Apollo's hand. "Good," he says. "I love to take care of you, baby. In our bed, in the bath ... anywhere, everywhere."
Apollo feels himself blushing. Gives his lover's cock an affectionate squeeze.
Above him, Klavier groans. Moves faster, grinding into Apollo's palm. "Let me," he whispers, "let me ... take care of you, baby."
He shudders, whimpers. Thrusts hard into Apollo's hand.
"Let me put them awa-aah-away. For you. The men who-ngh, oh baby ..."
Two sharp thrusts, and then he stills, gasping breath as he comes, making a mess of his underwear, his breathing fast, ragged.
"Gott in Himmel," he breathes, leaning down for a kiss.
"Mmm," says Apollo, opening his mouth for his lover's tongue.
It's Klavier who pulls away from the kiss, answering Apollo's little sigh with a chuckle and an explanation that I have made a mess of myself, baby. Apollo laughs softly and lets him go, climbing out of bed as well to change out of his suit into a soft pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He hears his lover finish in the bathroom, hears the click of the light being switched off and the thump of Klavier's footsteps. Knows the touch of his lover's hands is coming even before he feels it, Klavier's long fingers tickling him a little as he pulls him close from behind, cheek pressed to the side of Apollo's head.
"I had forgotten just how much I love making up with you after a fight, baby," Klavier murmurs to him.
Apollo sighs. Puts his hands over Klavier's.
"Klavier," he says. "Please. Try to understand. I ... I know you'd do your best, but-" A deep breath. "You're not prosecuting this case. None of us wants you to. Not me, not Mr. Wright. Not your brother."
He feels Klavier tense against him. Feels what can only be his heart breaking, the ache in his chest making his eyes prickle.
"I'm sorry," he says, when Klavier's touch disappears. "I know you want to, and I appreciate your willingness. Please, try to understand."
His lover snorts. "No, Apollo," he says. "I doubt that I will ever understand."
He turns and leaves the room, slamming the bedroom door behind himself. This time, Apollo doesn't go after him.
~*~*~*~
One week passes.
A week of Mr. Wright coming by during the day, sometimes bringing with him the smell of the police station and information learned from the detectives there. A week of Klavier visiting his brother in prison, silently angry whenever Apollo comes with him and has to ask him to step outside so that he can speak with Kristoph alone. A week of Trucy sighing a lot and grumbling just come live with us, Polly, get away from Mr. Grumpypants already, under her breath.
Then at eight o'clock in the morning on the eighth day since Apollo's first solo visit with Kristoph, Klavier's cell phone rings, and things begin to change.
"Ja, this is he," he says, picking up halfway through the second ring, still lying in bed beside Apollo. "Ah. I see. Go ahead."
A moment. Muffled speaking from the other end of the phone.
Then suddenly, Klavier sits up, the bed squeaking as he launches himself out of it.
"Wait one moment, let me-verdammt-let me find a pen."
He leaves the room, not quite running but close to it. Ends up in the kitchen, where Apollo hears him say all right, continue please. Moves a chair away from the table, its legs scraping against the linoleum, making enough noise to obscure whatever he says next.
Apollo sighs and slides out of bed. Feels his way down the hall to the kitchen, following the sound of scratching-pencil on paper rather than pen-and his lover's voice, murmuring softly.
"At what time, please?" Klavier is saying, as Apollo reaches the doorway and steps into the kitchen. "Ah, wait one moment."
He sets his phone down and stands, crosses to Apollo and takes him by the hand, leading him over to one of the chairs. Returns to his own seat and picks up his phone, switching it to speakerphone before setting it back down on the table.
"Apologies," he says, reaching across the table to give Apollo's hand a squeeze. "Go ahead."
~*~*~*~
One hour passes.
An hour of Klavier and Apollo working together seamlessly, pressing the poor detective on the phone for details and clarification and information until they're satisfied and let the man go, thanking him for his cooperation. An hour of waiting for Mr. Wright to call in sick at the Borscht Bowl and take the mid-morning bus to Klavier's flat. An hour of Klavier pacing while Apollo thinks out loud, the older man interjecting every so often with his own thoughts.
By ten o'clock, Mr. Wright has arrived and listened to the new evidence provided by the police department. Added his own insights to the situation. Accepted Klavier's enthusiastic offer of a cup of coffee.
"It is practically an open-and-shut case," Klavier says, from the kitchen. "Thanks to Herr Forehead's careful defense, before."
Apollo feels his face heat. "I was just after the truth," he says. "That's my job. Just what I'm supposed to do."
Mr. Wright chuckles. "Still. It's rare, these days, for attorneys to go as far as you did," he says.
"Unfortunately," says Klavier, returning and settling on the sofa beside Apollo, his hand resting on the younger man's knee. "It will make the case terribly simple for the prosecution, ja? And safe, I can see no risk for any man in putting this demon behind bars."
The room goes still, silence broken only by the gurgle and hiss of the coffee-maker.
It's Mr. Wright who breaks the silence, finally, clearing his throat and shifting, the overstuffed armchair groaning in protest. "Well," he says, "speaking of prosecution, I made a few calls before coming over. Found an old friend who owes me a favor, he said he'd be more than happy to offer his services on this case."
"I was not aware that it was your responsibility to select prosecutors, Herr Wright," Klavier says.
"Oh, it isn't," Mr. Wright says, lightly. "But it is my duty as an informed citizen to safeguard those in the legal system from biased parties who do not have the maturity or self-restraint to know when they should step down."
Klavier tenses. "Herr Wright," he growls, "I would kindly ask you to take that back."
Apollo sighs. "Stop it, both of you," he says. "Klavier, he's right, we've talked about this. It's not right for you to work on this case, and we all know it. Mr. Wright, stop picking on him about it, he really wants to do this for me and you're not making it any easier for him to back down." He pauses. Feels for Klavier's hand. Laces their fingers together. "Now. Tell us a little about your prosecutor friend. Please."
Mr. Wright chuckles. "Ever heard of the Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth?" he says. "Manfred VonKarma's prodigious foster son?"
"Of course," Klavier says. "Anyone who has studied law in this country knows of him. He is a legend. One which disappeared from active practice years ago, without a trace."
"Well," says Mr. Wright. "I guess this case is a good enough comeback for him, because he's offered to fight it for us, and he's promised to win."
Klavier swallows. Squeezes Apollo's hand.
"If Herr Forehead is comfortable with it," he says, finally, "then you will hear no objection from me."
Apollo squeezes back. "Sounds good," he says to Mr. Wright. Then, turning towards his lover, he adds: "Thank you."
Klavier snorts softly and kisses him on the forehead. "You're welcome, baby," he says. "I simply hope that this is the right thing to do."
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