And now, in his spare moments, he was working on the piece again. Mostly refreshing himself with the notes, trying to better bridge the work of '80 and '81. And that little snatch of tune Dorian had hummed, repeating it over again. Coda. Just a simple coda to link the piece back on itself! Klaus smiled as he realised that would, indeed, finish the piece off, all sixteen minutes of it, and leaned a little closer to the papers atop the piano to write in the coda.

So engrossed was he in his scribbling, and so silent Dorian's approach, that the first inkling Klaus had that he was no longer alone in the room was a pair of arms wrapped around his torso, and a warm body pressed to his back.

"Still working on that, Darling? I do hope it will be ready in time for the ball."

"Why? I told you once already that I will not play it," Klaus murmured, undisrupted from his penning it down. Once, Dorian doing that when he was distracted would have shot him through the roof. 'Once' wasn't so very long ago, either. However, when Dorian had broken through most of the barriers between them, Klaus' tendency to snap like a cat under a rocking chair had faded.

"And I have already told you that you should, or at the very least allow someone else to," Dorian reminded him, with little hope of actually changing Klaus' mind. If there was one thing he'd learned in their time together, it was that patience seldom won against Klaus' stubbornness. Klaus, in this matter, had already decided to be extremely stubborn.

"And I completely refuse to let anyone else play it," Klaus told him firmly, adding in the final notes, before he set the pen aside and started to organise the leafs of paper. "It's not done. And we have to get ready for this. Are you..." He didn't have to turn, only caught a glimpse of Dorian's arms. White tuxedo, then, with a black shirt underneath? Hopefully not too much jewellery. "I still need to get dressed."

Dorian was indeed ready -- had been since early that morning -- and practically ablaze with anticipation. This year's ball would be in so many ways different and better than the one before. Under Dominic's bemused and only nominally displeased glare he and Klaus had personally seen to most of the decorations. There would be no dress, no dancing or heady, stolen kisses. No -- this year, the real fun would start *after* the guests had gone home.

"I could help you..." came the purred suggestion, paired with a nibble to the lobe of Klaus' ear. "It might make us a little late, but it would be worth it, wouldn't it, Darling?"

"Not if I want to be able to make eye-contact with the guests," Klaus murmured, even as he leaned back into that motion with a sigh. Often, being with Dorian was like drinking wine quickly -- a good buzz that hung on for hours after the wine was gone. Just a sip, maybe...? "I can't be late."

"Oh, that wouldn't be such a bad thing." The purr dropped a half-octave, roughened into something intensely seductive, as a hand slid slowly up the steely ripple of Klaus' abdomen. "I want you to have only eyes for me, love."

The Earl always knew the perfect spots to touch him to get the desired reaction. Perhaps the man didn't have the patience play the piano, but he could play Klaus well and with more than enough patience. Dorian felt Klaus finally move to touch him in turn, sliding an arm back around Dorian's shoulders, turning his head to catch the thief's lips. A small but wonderful indulgence, still, to kiss Dorian, to feel the play and pressure of mouth against mouth.

It still held all of the stunning intimacy, for all that a year had worn the newness into something comfortably better.

Mouth to mouth, Dorian could explore the subtleties of pressure and submission, and take Klaus with him as an active participant instead of a stunned bystander unintentionally caught in the swell. This particular kiss was like hundreds before -- perfection in fit, instilled with unique personality. By turns languid and fiery, it began deep, then easing into a slow conversation of desire.

As always, Dorian was reluctant to break it. "You'd better go get ready," he warned Klaus, dragging his hands from the man.

Dorian always seemed to like starting something just moments before it would be impossible for whatever he'd started to go anywhere. Half hazed green-grey eyes almost glared at him for a moment, as Klaus stood up when they'd freed each-other of the mutual clasp of body against body. "Are you going to go down to the hall before me...? Or will you wait here?"

It was probably because Dorian's sense of timing was inherently cruel, or because he subconsciously liked to tackle difficult situations by carrying to them a frightful, edgy anticipation. If nothing else, it served as a superb distraction...

"Whichever you prefer." He was neatening his tux, which Klaus was pleased to find of a modest, almost conservative cut. Dorian would be playing by all the rules this evening.

No necklace, even! A bracelet, of course, and a ring, tiny stud earrings that golden hair easily covered... Klaus relaxed by visible degrees as he catalogued Dorian's tuxedo. "The hall. I'll be there soon."

He left the room quickly -- for fear of delaying himself further with attempts to linger in Dorian's presence. And in a show of unconscious trust, didn't bother to take the sheets of music with him.

The hall was lonely, and would be until the first of the guests began to arrive. Dorian toyed with concocting some excuse as to why he was present earlier than anyone else, but in the end didn't see the point. The knowledge already spread was that Herr Eberbach had found himself a steady acquaintance in the British Earl; perfectly acceptable but for the fact that Dorian was foreign and at times a bit odd.

This evening would be their first real test, to see how well they could mask the depth of their relationship from the public at large. Klaus had demanded discretion. Missions were tense but not unbearably so, because Dorian allowed the pressing importance of the job at hand to squash most of his romantic notions. In a relaxed public setting, stray glances and the unintentional touch would be much harder to control.

That alone was a major contributor to Dorian's anticipation. Hiding from the world had become a sort of game to the thief, almost as satisfying as a good hunt.

Then again, what Dorian considered a relaxed public setting would probably leave his wire rope of a lover wound tighter than ever, and far more unlikely to make stray glances.

And on missions, it was easier -- Dorian had always stolen glances and kissed Klaus inappropriately. Now it was just a matter of not making it so overt that Klaus would be unable to keep from reacting to him.

"Lord Gloria?" The butler nodded his head to Dorian politely. was that a smile on his face...? Maybe? "The first guests are in the front hall -- shall I escort them here?"

There was no need to remind the man that Dorian was a guest this evening just like the any other, despite that he spent nearly as much time at the Schloss as Klaus did these days. Discretion was something Germans seemed to appreciate. If he'd indeed managed to win Dominic over a little, it was through his efforts to that end.

"Please," he answered the man, no mistaking his smile. "But take your time. I don't relish the sort of chit chat I'll be expected to endure until Klaus comes down."

"Yes, sir." Another polite nod -- they both knew that Klaus disliked the chit-chat as much as anyone else, in fact, was vehentmently against it. But the other man, at least, would soon be down to relieve Dorian from having to fend for himself.

Over in the corner of the hall, the tree glittered brightly, the rest of the room barely lit to accentuate it. It had a different look than it had had the year before, due to new decorators for the huge thing. And Dorian had brought a few of his own brilliantly coloured ornaments to add onto the sparkle.

The hall's doors were opened again, and Dominic stepped aside to let the first set of guests -- five total -- enter.

Fate was being unkind to Dorian this evening. For once his life was lined up in the exact manner he wanted it to go -- for once he was following a set path and not meandering whim -- and fate must have hated that his will was strong enough to prevent any thwarting of that course.

It was a compromise. Dorian won in the end, but fate put up a good fight along the way. He had the delightful anticipation of the night to look forward to, and a good party, and the good company of the man he loved. In the meantime, he had the company of five nosey old biddies to deal with.

Fate, he'd long since decided, was definitely a woman.

"Good evening, Ladies," he met them smoothly at the door, already resigned to the task as he kissed their hands in turn. Thank God fashion proscribed gloves! "The host is... ah... attending to some last minute details, but I've been informed he'll join us shortly."

"Oh, that's wonderful -- my daughter will be along later this evening, and I've been dying to introduce her to him," the very first of the women uttered, looking around the room.

"Beautiful decorations as always. His father would be proud to be here," the third sighed.

"Why ever are you here so early, young man, and without accompaniment!" the second chided him.

To the third -- yes, the decorations were lovely. Perhaps she might wish to go view them more closely?

To the first, and with no small satisfaction -- he imagined the host would be busy the entire evening with introductions, and not even have a chance to dance.

To the second a telling smile. He was clearly expecting accompaniment to arrive later in the evening.

It placated or at least kept the women quiet, and the forth and fifth just smiled at him. Thankfully, other guests arrived, and in their midst, Klaus, too, entered. A nod of his head, distinct and clearly directed, before he was swept by social obligation in a different direction to talk and make introductions.

The first of the old women was back. She appeared unexpectedly at Dorian's side, ridiculously small against his height, and handed him a glass of wine.

"You look completely lost here. You are English?" Her German accent managed clear, concise English.

"I am," he blurted uncharacteristically, looking askew at the glass his hand had accepted automatically. "Thank you for the drink. I would thank you in German, but mine is really quite appalling." Klaus reminded him on a regular basis of that!

"You are probably the only foreigner here, do you know that?"

"Does that make me a curiosity?" Dorian sipped politely at his wine. It was quite good. But then, it would be -- he'd insisted on choosing the vintage this year.

"Yes, it does -- I would think you are a party crasher, but you would have been noticed if you were," she commented, tilting her head to look up at him. She wore the same sort of heirloom but nothing special jewellery that most of the women there were sporting. It didn't matter if she had something special on, even, because Klaus would kill him if he stole anything. "How do you know the Eberbach family?"

"I am only acquainted with its son, through work." So far this one didn't seem any nosier than any other old woman, though she sported a frankness Dorian found refreshing. He only hoped her mind was not as sharp behind those inquisitive greyed eyes as he suspected, otherwise the questions he was carelessly answering might be leading someplace uncomfortable. "Are party crashers a common occurrence?"

"Common enough. There was rumour of that woman Young Eberbach danced with last year was one, since no-one could recognise her; and the year before there was a terrible mess when someone tried to kill him. It was very bloody, and that is the only year the ball has ever ended before midnight." A calm sip of wine passed her lips, and Dorian could sense flickers of a shrewdness she'd had in her youth. "I find it hard that Young Eberbach would have a friend to invite to such a party."

"He did me a kindness with his invitation," Dorian drawled, falling into the cadence of conversation. That it was a game both parties were well aware -- the old woman with her barrage of questions, and Dorian with only his glib tongue and charm to defend himself with. "You see, I have no family of my own, and no where to else to spend the holiday but home. Klaus is my friend, yes. But I think you will find we are as unalike as two people can be and still tolerate each other's company."

"A small miracle. Young Eberbach has a temper," she uttered with a soft smile. "But he's so very handsome, just like his father was when he was that age. All the women wanted him, and when he finally married, well, the scandal of his beautiful young wife was..."

"Scandal...?" One golden brow rose inquisitively. His show of interest had just lost him a point, he realised. He was more than glad to sacrifice it, if it could earn him any information in return. "Klaus' father is about the most upstanding individual I've ever met. I can't imagine scandal in his past."

"Oh, well, the girl was pretty and only a little younger than him -- but she was also of a lower social standing. but they had a happy marriage for all the years she lived, frail little thing, and then when she died, well..." The old woman smiled a little, looking over to Klaus in a distant corner of the room. He was a hard man to miss. "Poor Heinz had to raise the boy by himself -- it was very tragic. And he refused to marry again, not even for the boy's sake. I think her death broke his heart."

/That is giving him the credit of having ever possessed one,/ Dorian mused, allowing his gaze to follow hers to his lover. Snatches of what had passed between Klaus and his father in the parlour that horrible morning had been told to Dorian, in lulls of quiet between intimacy and passion. It was enough to make Dorian hate the man vehemently, while knowing that he did so even having been spared the more painful details. "Did his parents oppose the marriage?"

"A little. But she was of good, if unfortunate stock, so they eventually gave the marriage their blessing. Looking at Young Eberbach, one wouldn't think he'd ever had a mother -- that he just sprang whole-cloth from his father." The edges of her eyes crinkled a little and she shook her head, smile fading. "He's more than old enough to be married -- he'll probably make a choice this year or next and some lucky girl will get to live the rest of their life in this lovely castle, bear his children and be with such a handsome, upstanding young man."

Dorian had expected to hear a lot of such talk this evening, and already had his answer prepared. "Yes -- I expect you're right." It was such a falsehood that it didn't even prickle his heart to agree. He knew very well that he was the only love who ever had been and ever would be with the handsome, upstanding man that was his Major.

"You certainly must be old enough to marry -- have you come to this ball in the hopes of finding a fine young German girl?"

Dorian shook his head. "I have come," he told her with an impish wink, "hoping for a little peace. I had enough suitors clamouring for my attention back in England!"

"Ahhh, a handsome young man like you would," she smiled. "But a companion for the evening, perhaps...?" She glanced towards the door, eyes tracking who he could assume was her daughter, moving through the crowd.

If her eyes were anything like her mothers, Dorian would do his best to avoid more than a passing greeting to the girl. The mother's shrewdness paired with the cleverness of youth might just be more than he could handle! Keeping a perfectly steady expression, Dorian murmured, "You've been keeping me reserved. And here I thought you'd wanted me for yourself!"

"I would, but a man like you deserves better company on such a nice evening than an aged woman," she said, half-turning to wave to her daughter, bringing the girl over towards her. "If you are a friend of young Eberbach, it could not hurt you to get to know people within the social circles he moves within."

It couldn't hurt, but neither was it precisely the sort of thing a business acquaintance would be expected to do. Nor even a casual friend. Suspicious, Dorian let his eyes flick to the old woman's face, finding nothing but a smile for her approaching daughter. "And you have appointed yourself my guide in this?" he inquired slowly.

"Why not?" She turned to him with a smile, a frail gloved hand alighting on her daughter's shoulders. The girl was *pretty* indeed, with brown hair framing her face, tiny emeralds set into the clips holding it back in places. "This is my daughter Clarice. And you are... oh, I've forgotten to get your name, young man!" That was laughed, and a little chagrined.

Dorian gave both women a perfunctory little bow. "And I yours, Madame. Dorian, Earl of Red Gloria, at your service."

"Red Gloria?!" She seemed surprised, to the point where she failed to introduce herself. "You're that..." Her jaw worked for a second in silence and she just smiled at him.

Dorian felt himself colour faintly, and gave an inward sigh. /Bloody hell. I should have known my reputation would travel across the continent in *these* circles./

"That's amazing. You must do important work with Young Eberbach for him to have not killed you yet!"

"Mother!" Clarice protested, shaking her head in slight outrage.

"Kill me?" Dorian mustered a similar outrage at that, not entirely convincing. "Whatever makes you say that?"

"Well, dear boy, everyone knows he can't stand homosexuals!"

"Which is why I'm very careful to never act the part in his presence." /In public,/ he added mentally, giving the woman a sweet smile now. "I was convincing, yes?"

"Oh, very!" The old woman laughed, before patting her fuming daughter's shoulder. "Well, I'll be leaving now..."

To try to cultivate some legitimate marriage prospects for her daughter -- of course. "I never did catch your name," the Earl offered in parting.

"Lady Evaline! Good-bye, Lord Gloria, and have a nice evening!"

"Good bye, Lady Evaline. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gestured with his glass, the sentiment unforced. That sort of woman he could easily socialise with!

She drifted into the crowd, taking her huffy daughter with her, and he was left alone for a moment until he was bumped into by another young man.

"Oh, excuse me!" The fellow was probably older by a few years than Dorian, but looked younger. He also looked to have already had a bit to drink, by the way he wobbled unsteadily as he turned.

Dorian instinctively caught him by the elbow. "Steady there..."

"Oh, hello..." A purr that, years before, would have just bubbled over his blood, and it was accompanied with a white-toothed, wide smile.

Now it caused him to blink uncertainly as he jerked his hand away. "I am... ah... sorry to have unbalanced you." Although now he wasn't so certain he had! That particular tactic he'd used himself many times, to great effect.

"It's all right," the man smiled wolfishly at Dorian. "You look a little uncomfortable standing over here by the tree, all by yourself... Waiting for someone?"

Dorian gave the man the particular bland smile which was widely known in certain circles to mean 'fuck off'. "I was not. Just getting my bearings before the dancing begins."

"Looking for a partner?" the man offered softly.

"No -- thank you." Klaus' reputation was a lovely thing to have to fall back on. "I would not wish to... offend our host by accepting such an offer under his roof."

"Ohh, but Major Asshole is way on the other side of the room," the handsome man wheedled. "He wouldn't see."

"I work with Herr Eberbach," Dorian told the other, the light sting of exaggerated politeness in his tone. "Believe me when I say that he has very sharp eyes."

"If you swing this way, what does he care?" The other countered, baiting him just a little.

"The Major is very proper," Dorian bristled. "As his guest, I have sworn to uphold certain... conventions while under his hospitality."

"We could go outside and dance there?" The man suggested with a laugh in his voice. "Please. You're very beautiful."

A year ago, Dorian would have already followed the damned man to someplace dark and private. He was handsome, in a dark sort of way which reminded Dorian of a very pale imitation of his beloved Klaus.

He missed Klaus, intensely, even though they were in the same room! "I am sorry -- I cannot." Dorian began to edge away, hoping to let himself be absorbed into some nearby conversation into which his propositioner could not follow.

"Oh, why not? are you spoken for?" the man pressed, voice rich in ways that sparked a familiarity in him -- oh, and Klaus was just across that room!

"I prefer my head to remain firmly attached to my shoulders." He nodded lightly in Klaus' direction. It was perfectly true -- if Klaus caught him even considering another man, there was no telling what violence he would do!

"Oh, you..." A surprised look, and the man laughed suddenly. "Ahh, you must be his English lap-dog!"

"Excuse me?" That hadn't been said with a purr of innuendo. Dorian wondered if he wasn't missing some vague German idiom.

"You're a subordinate! The one that he's been around so much. Does he pay you for your friendship, lap-dog?"

Impossibly, the pretty blonde laughed outright at that, a bright, crisp sound. "Oh, I don't need any of his money. I have plenty of my own. And I'm not his subordinate."

"You work for him." The handsome man inclined his head towards Klaus again. Or, the empty corner where Klaus had been. "He has all of his underlings under the heel of his shoe..."

"And most of my immediate family. Fuck off, or I'll toss you out, Ferdinand."

It was so very tempting to turn, a welcoming, give-away smile on his lips. Instead Dorian remained in place, addressing the other young man /Ferdinand?/ still. "Family? How extraordinary. I thought there was a small resemblance."

"Very small." That was snarled, even as Ferdinand did skulk off.

"Thank you Darling," Dorian murmured, very low for Klaus' ears alone. He did turn then, his smile contained to his eyes. "I probably don't have to tell you that Ferdinand is an annoying prick."

"No, you don't," Klaus agreed, watching the retreating form with heated distaste. "Are you having a good evening, Lord Gloria?"

"Yes and no. I was sniffed out almost immediately by one Lady Evaline, who was terribly displeased when she heard my name that she'd wasted as much time on me as she had. Wants a quick match for her prissy daughter, that one does..."

"Try to mingle." A short instruction, Klaus trying to not linger too long for fear of being either sniffed out because of some stray look or gesture, and for fear of being unable to help from *making* that stray gesture. "Do you want to be introduced to some people?"

Unable to help a light tease, Dorian uttered, "I'll probably be better off on my own. You'll be pleased to know, if you don't already, that your reputation encompasses beastly social manners."

"I've already been asked twice why I have a fag limey here. I'm aware," Klaus sighed a bit tightly. Ohh, he'd wanted to just punch the idiot who'd said that to him... "There are a few people here who appreciate art. Should I...?"

"Please." A loved subject would make the evening flow much more smoothly.

"Then follow me, Lord Gloria," Klaus uttered, leading the way back towards the other end of the room, the darker end. In front of him, a path seemed to clear, of people who didn't want to dare getting in his way. "Best to cross before the dancing starts in five minutes."

Follow he did, a half-pace behind the striding German, probably enforcing his lap-dog reputation. "And it will last past midnight?" Dorian inquired. Dancing was something he was good at and could take pleasure in for the act alone, even if the company wasn't to his liking. He could not with Klaus this year, but he would dance.

"No. At the stroke, it's over." Klaus was leading him directly for a little enclave of men and women, some who looked familiar to him, others who didn't, but all looked friendly.

Another blessing of Klaus' prickly reputation! He could chase the guests out promptly at midnight, and it not be considered more than his usual rudeness. "Anything I should know about this lot before you leave me at their mercy?" Klaus was asked.

"Some will recognise you. Loudly. But they're friendly, I suppose." And with a smile, polite, to the group he stood near, he quickly introduced Dorian to them as Earl Red Gloria.

And then he left, as neatly as had Dorian been a craft launched into friendly water, to sink or float on his own merits.

"Earl Gloria... Lord Gloria...?" A woman questioned, lips curling into a twitch of a smile. "The..."

"The fop, the frivolous British fag?" Dorian supplied helpfully.

After that display of humour, he'd been welcomed into the little circle of conversation, and quickly taken position as a favourite. Questions flew at him, and smart responses from, but it had been when the topic turned to art that he'd truly shined. That part of the evening, at least, proved a smashing success.

Dancing had been nearly as enjoyable, with the exception of the sparrow-like woman who had taken her status as dance partner to mean that her hands had permission to roam Dorian's person. She'd been abandoned in the middle of the floor in favour of the Lady Evaline, who had even stayed on for another set of music after Dorian proved a charming partner.

Still, he was glad beyond measure to hear the schloss' stately clock declare midnight. And as if signalled by it, or the habits of the party's host, the festivities began to unwind immediately. The music stopped, and guests broke into small clusters to speak their good-evenings.

"Let's leave." Upon his shoulder, careful and still casual of touch, a hand alighted, the host finally freed of his charges for the evening.

Without the aid of voice he still would have known that hand. Sightless, he could pick it out of hundreds, the particular mix of wonder and possession that was Klaus' touch. "Will Dominic herd the guests out in your absence? Or do you have them trained well enough to leave on their own?"

"Both," he answered truthfully. Dominic just had to be there to chase off stragglers. With Klaus at Dorian's side, they moved quickly through the crowd, and if anyone watched as they turned down a hall deeper into the schloss, who would say anything?

Once out of watchful eyes, Klaus slid an arm around Dorian's waist, as together they mounted the stairs. "That wasn't so bad."

"I would have liked better to have had you at my side the entire night," Dorian murmured, settling against Klaus. "But barring that lack, the party was quite enjoyable."

"You were the topic of conversation, you know? More this year than last."

"I was?" The question of what had been said was in his tone, not needing to be said outright.

"Yes. A lot of people asking who you were, why I'd invited you, if I was gay..." Klaus managed to somehow roll all of those things off of his tongue in the same tone, but resting against him, Dorian could feel the rising tension with the words. "Only the daring ones asked that. But a lot were thinking it. None of them got answers."

A sorrowful sigh from the blonde. "They made their own, I'm certain. I am sorry, Klaus. I did not realise my reputation had spread so far, or that it would put you in such an uncomfortable situation. Perhaps it would have been better if I'd not attended..."

"It's all right," Klaus murmured as they turned down the hall towards their bedroom. It wasn't just his any longer, oh no. Dorian had at least half a wardrobe stored there. "They'd have figured it out after six or seven more balls with you there and no woman in sight. 's the discreet way to do it. It's more respectable somehow to have every assume it than to tell them."

"Six or seven more balls would have been as many years from now." Dorian bit his lip as he pushed open the bedroom door, his other hand already tugging loose his bowtie. "You're right about the assumptions, though. No matter how much evidence supports it, gossip will always be ignored by some.

"Even when we're old and greying," Klaus agreed, "and still doing the same thing. Maybe by then we can dance together. I don't know. I'm tired and I'm awake all at once." He perched on the edge of the bed to fight his own bow-tie.

"We can always dance together," Dorian reminded. If he'd been tired at all, that was gone now. Little hints Klaus dropped occasionally said that he was serious about Dorian for the long haul, but this had been by far the most daring. In response, predictably, the Earl's heart raced. "Alone. Tomorrow, let's put on some music, and relive the ball the way it ought to have gone."

"One year, tomorrow," Klaus murmured, tossing his tie accurately to the chair he put worn clothes on. As he looked up, Dorian caught an almost mischievous glint in the man's eyes, paired with the self-satisfied smile. "We have to do something."

"You have something in mind," Dorian accused him, finding the man's sudden anticipation wildly infectious. Typically, his own tie was tossed to a careless huddle in a corner. The fingers tackling his shirt buttons caught the mood and turned coy.

Klaus' jacket went next, and then his tuxedo's white vest, before he reached for Dorian's hips, tugging the blonde to sit astride his lap. "Maybe I do," came the husky agreement, a kiss already pressing against Dorian's neck. "You have anything in mind...?"

The yelp Dorian gave at being manhandled was all for show. Already his arms were winding around Klaus, his head falling back to expose more fully the column of his throat. "As a matter of fact..."

"Don't tell me." Klaus was firm in that -- hinting was all right, but if it was supposed to be a surprise, or for a particular day, he hated to be told. Despite that chiding comment, though, Dorian could feel firm lips smile against his skin for a moment before picking up their slow and luxurious exploration of the muscles of his neck. "Now, to get you undressed."

Lips and voice combined to send a shiver racing violently down Dorian's spine. Far from the careful lover he'd imagined Klaus, the man was forceful and impulsive. More than one article of clothing had been ruined under his impatient hands. After discovering that he loved the feeling of vulnerability Klaus could stoke in him with a fiery look or touch, Dorian had been smitten anew.

He took to wearing frustrating clothing with a lot of very tiny buttons. His tuxedo shirt for the evening was no exception.

"You're not going to let me do that striptease I've been promising you for years?" the blonde teased, knowing what his answer would be.

"No," Klaus told him, as he'd told him every time before. "You do enough of that getting dressed..." Tiny buttons were going to meet their demise again, for Klaus managed four of them while kissing Dorian, before he ripped three and then undid the rest. But it got the effect he wanted -- Dorian's pale, smooth chest revealed to him, most skin for him to kiss while he splayed his hands against Dorian's neatly muscled back.

To that Dorian also knew the reply that was expected of him. He uttered with a wide grin, "You never let me have any fun," just before his mouth caught Klaus'. Kissing his lover was different now than the slow progress of their first hesitant months together. An hour might have been taken then reaching the same heated melding now attained instantly, tongue against tongue in fierce competition.

Klaus loved it -- he'd always feared in the back of his mind that Dorian wouldn't enjoy his rough edges or the way that he liked to spar for control. But no, Dorian met and savoured every little challenge between them, even the occasional fight while on missions. Strange though that when left to their own devices, without missions, they seldom argued. All of that excess energy was better put to making love.

And it was making love become a physical entity. Klaus was lucky in a lot of ways, having never experienced anything but being with Dorian; the Earl, however, could look back on every lover he'd ever considered, and felt the memory of being with them dull considerably.

The moulding of mouth to mouth was broken by Klaus, but only as the man slid his hands under Dorian's bottom and lifted him a little, getting the leverage needed to pivot where he sat and spill Dorian out atop the sheets. "I think you're having fun right now."

Another startled little sound from the blonde man, as he fell back in a tangle of half-stripped clothing and mussed honey-gold curls. He was an unfinished masterwork of ravishment, his languid, sensual stretching begging Klaus to complete the job. "Oh, whatever gives you that idea, Darling?"

"Your smile." Finishing the job was something to take his time with, though, now that he had Dorian at his mercy. The tiny buttons of Dorian's tuxedo pants went next, sleek white material teased slowly off of narrow hips. Underwear, too, all removed at once, as Klaus slid it all completely off of Dorian, leaving his picture of ravishment complete, a beautiful man laid out for Klaus' touch.

Possessive would have been a kind thing to call Klaus, jealous more fitting. He barely withstood Dorian's flirtatious friends like that Italian Don, a man who hadn't quite gotten it into his head yet that Klaus would shoot people when they least expected it if they touched Dorian in such a manner. And that possession existed even in the bedroom. Klaus knelt above his lover, hands stroking the lean body slowly, as if he'd forgotten what Dorian felt like since the night before.

The intensity of Klaus' touch was something impossible to forget, though in memory it dimmed considerably, even at the distance of a single second. Never when he wasn't trembling under gun-callused hands could Dorian recall accurately their feel, or the sensation of spreading fire they left in their wake.

The thief with interesting ideas concerning ownership had never wanted to belong to anything before. He knew his whims and fancies mastered him at times, but it was never the total surrender Klaus asked of him. Asked, and more often than not demanded, and, after the requisite struggle with his pride, Dorian always did.

His pride wasn't even putting up much of a fight this evening. Already Dorian was arching high under Klaus' hands, his give-away smile bitten rapturously at one edge between his teeth. "Damn. You know me too well, Darling, when you can read my mood on my lips."

"I don't think I could ever know you too well," Klaus murmured, shifting back for a moment to finish removing his own clothes -- with the same smart military efficiency that he always did. One day, Dorian would have to try to get him to tease a little. Just a littleÖ

But once naked, he was back over Dorian, blanketing him with a powerful heated form that would surely dominate him in the moments to come. But never quite over-whelm entirely -- Klaus was always sure that Dorian's pleasure was at least better than his own. There was as much delight in giving as in taking between them. "Thank you, for being at the ballÖ"

"I would not have missed it for the world." Though if asked, he would have stayed away. Love had rendered him exquisitely sensitive to Klaus' needs, propriety among them. "It is, in a way, our anniversary."

"In a way," Klaus agreed, shifting down to press a kiss just below Dorian's right nipple, and then just brushing his lips over that nub. "Better to celebrate the one where I knew it was you."

Already pebbled, the nipple hardened further under his touch, a little swell of flesh that he knew from experience would ache exquisitively were he to suckle it. Dorian's fingers found their way into raven-wing hair, coursing through the fine wash. "A good point. You're so logical..."

"Logic has nothing to do with you, Dorian..." A challenge in those words as he took the nub between his lips at last, and nipped gently, before starting to suck. Against his hip, he could feel Dorian's erection swell a little more, begging for attention that he'd give it only once he'd savoured Dorian for a few minutes more.

The challenge was to see if Dorian could answer, could make coherent speech while Klaus slowly drove him mad with touch. Small thoughts put straight to words were best, but even those minimal sentences often ended garbled in soft sounds of pleasure.

Sometimes they were bitten off by screams.

"It... doesn't?" So far so good, and he borrowed the space between thoughts for a quick gasp. The suction was perfect, warm and wet and a little rough.

Then it sharpened for a moment, sudden and sharp suction that faded once more into the more familiar steady sort, Klaus pulling back to lick the aching nub. "Nothing... at all." That wettened nub was rubbed lightly by one callused finger, as Klaus shifted over to repeat his mouth's teasing on the left nipple. "Tonight, Dorian..." He faltered for a moment, and instead of finishing what he was thinking, he began to lavish attention on Dorian's chest. Sometimes, arousing thoughts just couldn't pass his lips as words.

They passed in other, better ways, or so Dorian would have told him had Klaus explained that particular difficulty. He was having a problem with words as well, but that was no surprise given what Klaus was doing to his nipples with mouth and hand. A pair of small gasps, one for shock and the second for pleasure, and he knew he'd have to continue quickly before thought failed him entirely. "And... what... would?"

Getting an answer cost him attention to his left nipple, but the answer was as pleasing as touch. "Nothing I want any part of." And then Klaus shifted up to catch Dorian's mouth with his own, claiming the Earl's lips in a searing kiss. Everything he wanted a part of still made no sense, but it was also just beneath him, completely willing and joy-giving in nearly every moment of every day.

/Glad-/ Damn -- he was lost. Even had lips been available to put to work making words, proper ones wouldn't have come from the effort. Dorian was reduced to thinking in sensations, need and aching, a vague sense that it would become worse before he was relieved. As an intruding tongue tenderly plundered his mouth, the thief reacted instinctively, pulling his tormentor closer with hands in silken hair, and a leg wrapped tightly about Klaus' hips.

Eager, knowing and aware of Klaus' weak spots, Dorian was a perfect lover. No more words, but not silence, either -- for a moment, the play of two bodies in need. Klaus rolled over onto his back to pull Dorian atop him, a soft wolfish laugh leaving him as he raked his hands along Dorian's hips. Perfect. The beautiful Earl was sitting just stop his erection, a wonderful temptation for them both.

It would be so simple to shift, position himself better atop that lovely shaft and ease himself down onto it... Later he would, or throw his hips forward to meet the single, driving thrust as Klaus took him from above. The temptation was too great to fully resist, though. Dorian bucked lightly under the hands holding his hips, grinding down with a throaty growl and a different angle which put their erections together in a clash.

A year ago, and action like that would have put Klaus into a total fit. Now it put him into a fit that Dorian could more than put to good use. He arched up for a moment, a thick sigh of enjoyment slipping free as his hands pulled Dorian's hips closer for more pressure.

He was given it, a delightful friction of skin to sensitive skin. Taking advantage of his new elevation, Dorian crouched over his lover, intending to initiate another sparring contest of tongues. Klaus' throat distracted him though, the column of corded muscle demurely cloaked in wisps of hair. Short work for Dorian's talented lips to move those hairs aside, and soon he was feasting on the flesh beneath.

Klaus was never really sure of who was in control. One moment it seemed as if it were him, and then the next, Dorian had him moaning beneath him. It didn't matter, either, as long as they could exchange pleasures with each other. One hand slid up into Dorian's hair now, trying to keep the man's lips where they were, every kiss and nip sending shivers down to where their groins still rubbed together.

Then, a bite, teeth prickling sharply, after which the teased skin was soothed with a laving tongue. Dorian tasted salt in addition to the usual heady Klaus tastes of cigarette smoke and metal. "And to think you were so shy our first time..."

"'s taken me a... while to... get comfortable..." Now he faced the same dilemma he'd put Dorian in -- being made speechless in the face of pure sensation. "But 'm not scared of you anymore..."

"Oh, you were never afraid of me..." Dorian guessed, grazing with his teeth down to the curve of Klaus' collar bone. "Afraid of the things I made you feel, perhaps."

"That... yes." A shiver of breath now, and Dorian could feel strong fingers stroke the back of his neck, pressing gently for more touch. "Ah, you're always good..."

More he got, with a line of nibbled kisses to the edge of his shoulder before Dorian lifted his head again. "Took long enough to convince you of that..."

"'m well convinced now," Klaus shuddered, giving Dorian one of his rare small blissful smiles. Yes, it was good to have a person who didn't need or want masks and games to play. He could be himself, was still learning to be himself, around the Earl, and Dorian was that strange cross between Earl and thief that he cherished so.

That smile was drawing, something Dorian couldn't leave well enough alone. Impulse made him claim it, the press of his own lips memorising what a smile so beautiful felt like. It must have been infectious, because his mouth came away similarly marked. "'m glad. Wonder what next I should work on..."

"Since you're the teacher," Klaus drawled, rocking his hips carefully once, as if to remind Dorian that he was still there, "you should decide what next."

A delighted gasp at that, which fell into a chuckle. "Like this, Darling," Dorian teased, and then showed him, using the superiority of his position to thoroughly grind their groins together.

"This?" That familiar smirk that touched Klaus' lips when he knew he was doing something perfectly was present as he used his hands and a slow arch to guide them better together. "Tonight, Dorian..." Again, another falter, but he drew strength from Dorian's eyes and finally decided on, "whatever you want."

"You know what I want." It was the one thing he'd never asked for, never pressed Klaus over, yet he knew with certainty it was also the foremost fear in the German's mind when they retired to the bedroom. "And you trust me enough to give it, I see..." Such a remarkable relief!

"Yes." A relief for both of them, because if Dorian had asked, even the night before when they were together, it surely would have pushed his decision of offering back by weeks. The Major looked up at Dorian with a small smile now, trepidation and a little concern dancing in his bright eyes.

Both were healthy, and Klaus had long since learned to submit to the occasional new thing Dorian asked of him. This would be no different, would it? A final light kiss before Dorian reluctantly slid off of Klaus, intending to go gather what supplies would be shortly needed. "Good. Do you have... ah... questions?"

"None." As if any that he had could cross the barrier between his mind and his lips! Yet there was no reason to ask questions or be concerned too much because... he trusted Dorian. Trusted him with his life, and with a guilty secret they shared together whenever they could.

Explanations he found cumbersome and embarrassing then. No need for Dorian to mention his reason for rising, or to even be discrete anymore with the little container he carried back with him. Returning, he settled atop Klaus again, pausing for a reassuring kiss.

Yet re-assuring became passion sparking quickly enough, as Klaus took more reassurance from the familiarity of their sparring; not teasing caresses. Those had their own time and place, for when they only had a spare moment to waste.

Klaus was familiar enough with the little jar Dorian held -- familiar enough with what he'd done with the other man to know what was coming. He sat up a little, propped up on his elbows, watching Dorian obviously when the kiss broke off.

Expecting. No -- ordering, with his eyes, and posture. Klaus had a positive talent for dictating a situation even when he wasn't the one with the upper hand.

This time Dorian wasn't going to let him get away with it. Fears and reassurances aside, Klaus responded instinctively to orders as well as he gave them. "Spread your legs a little," he was told.

Half a beat of pause, and then Klaus followed Dorian's order, hips arching minutely in slight anticipation. He was going to do this -- well, he wasn't going to do anything, but he was going to let Dorian... No, he wanted Dorian to do it, wanted to not deny his lover the only thing he wanted now.

For not the first time in his life, Dorian was grateful for his slender thieves' fingers. They could pick most any lock with ease, perform marvellous slight-of-hand, and touch delicate skin in a manner that was tender and assured. Still no words came as he eased himself between Klaus' legs, contemplating the newness of the position.

New to Klaus, too -- Dorian had been atop him, yes, but only for a 'ride', and he'd been between the thief's legs for all manner of positions... "Should I... turn over?" Klaus asked serious, tone intense yet threatening to slip away on him.

"No. I want to be able to see your eyes through this, and to kiss you," Dorian told him, tracing a hand down the German's face. Eyelids and lips were touched as if to demonstrate, but the hand didn't stop there, It spent a full minute at least exploring Klaus' chest, while Dorian's eyes slitted with the pleasure of it.

A full minute to make the heart in that strong chest race all the harder. Klaus was still leaning back on his elbows, expression rapt as Dorian touched him. Pleasure on that man's face came not in the daily things that delighted most people -- only from Dorian's touch or a victorious shoot-out did Klaus ever wear that particular expression of bliss. And without guns, it lacked the often frightening sharpness.

Dorian had told him, the first time they'd done anything, that it would be safest is Dorian were on his hands and knees. Being able to kiss and touch so readily as face to face allowed came only once Dorian deemed it a good idea. So this was the voice of experience himself sanctioning a decision that Klaus was more than happy to agree with. Anything for Dorian's drugging kisses.

The decision had been made in part selfishly, for Dorian loved Klaus' kisses as much as his were craved in return. And it had startled Dorian the first time Klaus informed him that he did not mind pain. It was not something to be sought, but it was obviously no deterrent to the German either. The *idea* of hurting Klaus made the blonde a little queasy, but there had been times he'd been driven to it by Klaus' own urging -- a particularly hard bite or rake of his nails that had left marks he'd been ashamed of later, but Klaus only proud.

So, the risk of a little pain, unlikely in the face of Dorian's skill, was well worth the ability to trade languid kisses while they coupled.

When the languid exploration seemed to be tapering off, Klaus bit out, catching his voice again, "Dorian, soon."

"Is your courage flagging, Darling?" The languid caress became calculated, dropping briefly to attend Klaus' erection. "I was only trying to relax you as much as possible first..."

"I'm relaxed!" The sudden exclamation shouted everything to the opposite, as Klaus' erection throbbed in Dorian's grasp.

He held it for a second more tightly, fingers of both hands wrapping the silken-skinned rod from head to root. "You are not." They released, stroking evenly again. "But you're probably beyond the ability to be right now, aren't you?"

"You know me." All the confirmation he needed, without Klaus having to give an outright yes. The slight slip of a smile, too, agreed when he hitched his hips up to Dorian's stroke. "'s as relaxed as I'll get..."

"Except for when you sleep," Dorian added, concentrating for a moment on torturing the head of Klaus' cock with his thumbs. "You're beautiful when you sleep, Klaus -- more peaceful than you ever are when awake." He'd told the man this often, but never hesitated to remind him of it again.

Worse, Klaus couldn't refute it as just flattery, because he didn't find the remark flattering at all. He found it odd, and a little disturbing, but it *felt* like it was true. "Dorian..." The Earl's name came out as more of a moan than a word, spoken with such a daring familiarity as he shifted his weight onto one elbow, and slid his free hand into the curls of Dorian's hair, pulling him near for a kiss. "If you don't do... soon, I will."

Impatience was overriding hesitance. That was a good sign, and a dangerous tactic for Dorian to use. Klaus hadn't been lying!

Dorian kissed him through the veil of an indulgent smile, his hands leaving their ministrations to hunt up the little container. "Yes, Darling -- soon."

There were no further words -- explanation or warning or reassurance. Just Dorian's eyes, locked steady with Klaus, and the flutter of a touch at once foreign and strangely arousing.

Why ever he'd been told that men couldn't enjoy touching each other was such complete bullshit it was funny.

"'s what it feels like for you...?" Klaus asked, pushing back against the lightly pressing finger, just as Dorian had done with him so many times. "'s new..." Not strange, as he'd called Dorian's touch once. Strange implied bad or frightening, and this wasn't -- shocking in the feelings it surged through him, but not bad!

"Very similar," he was assured. Perhaps a little more urgent -- Dorian being sexually very brave, and Klaus impatient. The finger pressed the slightest bit harder, more coaxing tight muscle into relaxing than defeating it, and Dorian stopped when it was barely inside. "Any pain, Darling? Anything at all bad?"

"Nein." A quiet sigh, tone just what Dorian had been looking for -- almost lazy, but tightly wound underneath, mostly with anticipation. "You don't have... to go so slow..."

He wasn't answered in so many words. Just a raised brow, and the addition of more digits, as soon as the first had slid a comfortable ways in. Stroking and stretching, Klaus was expertly stoked to a feverish need from the inside.

It was almost uncomfortable, barely having adjusted to two before Dorian slid in a third. And then, discomfort blended with a sharp pleasure that almost hurt, so very intense and unfamiliar, making Klaus knot his hands into the bedding, the one that had been in Dorian's hair having long since fallen to the mattress. "Gott, yes..." He was using his heels and his back now to arch against Dorian's touch, trying to satisfy a burning ache that had never been there before.

As reactions went, Dorian couldn't have asked for better. As a parting tease he allowed his fingers to raze over Klaus' prostrate, impossibly pleased with himself for having neatly reduced his lover to a state of writhing want.

It left Klaus sprawled out before him, breath hissing out from his teeth in pure anticipation -- anything he said to goad Dorian on would only have led to a short bout of verbal sparring, and *that* would have delayed the feeling he wanted. Of Dorian deep inside of him; Dorian's cock inside of him, a particular idea that would have made him pass out to have cross his mind a year ago.

A year could make quite a few changes to a man.

It had been a slow, easy progression of large changes built of small adjustments of manner and habit. So slow that Dorian had hardly recognised their depth, mistaking some for his simply learning the real Klaus, as he'd always expected Klaus to be beneath mantle of NATO and aristocrat.

This change was impressive enough to strike Dorian's notice with considerable force. He had to savour, for just a moment, the shock of a Klaus eager and trembling and submitting. Not that the moment was wasted. While he burned the image into his eyes he was shifting for position, subtle shifts of his limbs and Klaus', until his shaft was nudged against Klaus' entrance.

Shivers shook the muscles of Klaus' upper body, and he tightened his leg around Dorian's waist, where the Britain had put it. There was something on the tip of his tongue, dancing there as it had been for months now, to be said in clear and simple words instead of allusions and the angry snaps of that first night. But it wouldn't budge, not until he was *sure* that he could let down his barriers, this last barrier, mentally and literally against Dorian.

The slick nudge, though, was not to be denied, and when it came again, he pushed up towards it, arching again.

Dorian's weight seemed greater than it really was as he slumped forward onto Klaus. Perhaps he was simply long unused to the sensation of tight heat clutching his cock, or perhaps he was glad to let go the worry of crushing a partner for once. Klaus had proved many times over he was more than strong enough to bear up Dorian's body.

Whatever he didn't bother to brace himself at all as he rocked forward, the deepest, most satisfied groan imaginable leaving him as Klaus' body took him to the hilt.

It was certainly a shock, but it was the way Klaus liked things -- without hesitation whenever possible. And this, the feeling of being strangely filled, with Dorian's comfortable moaning presence atop him was... heavenly, almost. So this was how Dorian felt, when possessed by him? Claimed and certainly at his lover's mercy, mind beyond thinking of anything other than keeping that thickness within him. The leg around Dorian's waist tightened a little, and Klaus sighed tightly, shifting restlessly against the Britain.

"Oh God, oh Klaus..." A litany of the same was slowly gaining strength, breathed close to Klaus' ear. It was impossible to not edge himself deeper with terse rocking motions, encouraged by the leg around his waist and hands that gripped and kneaded his shoulders.

"More... Liebling..." Barely gritted out words, as Klaus did his best to try to get Dorian to move, by moving against him -- the stillness was maddening!

A kiss to ground himself first, hard and frightening, tasting of blood. Probably his, though his mouth was too numb after to know for certain. He withdrew then, shaking under the effort when all he wanted to do was remain clasped and warm and held.

He slammed back in again, stopping just short of rocking Klaus' hips up off the bed.

Hard, jolting pleasure that stabbing through the German's body like a gun-shot, without the damage and a completely different ache. Dorian felt strong hands clutch closer at his back, words breathed so close to him, "Don't stop."

He'd said it that first night, too, but without half the assurance in his voice. This, too, was as new as that had been, but getting Dorian to not stop, to stay steady, was no longer done to keep him from backing down. Now, he wanted to have the thief, the nobleman who was his lover, take and give a pleasure that he'd never experienced.

It didn't stop, Dorian either obeying the command or past the ability to do so had he wanted. Klaus had the ability in his wire-rope body to drive the Englishman to a fury of need, frightening but no longer viewed with the same discomfort as the first few times Dorian had found himself matching Klaus in a struggle for supremacy of warring mouths. It felt good to have Klaus straining beneath him, near begging for the pleasure Dorian could inflict on him even as the thief took pleasure in turn.

Give and take, they worked together at it like some of their better missions -- and the sheer *need* for more, to reach whatever they were striving for, was shaking for Klaus. Dorian's steady thrusts were gaining speed, and Klaus was glad, because with speed came pressure, the rasp of his cock against Dorian's sweat slicked stomach, the rasp of Dorian possessing him so perfectly...

When the peak came, he wasn't caring if Dorian went over it with him. Other times -- all other times, in fact -- he was careful to make sure Dorian was first in pleasure. This time... it was his turn to take the ease of it and just come, knowing the decadent release of building pressure would leave him aching but sated.

Klaus may have reached climax more quickly, but when Dorian met it shortly after it was with more vocal enthusiasm. A stuttered cry he tried to muffle into Klaus' neck, with little success. Not that there was real need, as no one was left in the house to hear indecent screams of satisfaction. It was one concession to discretion Dorian had never been able to master.

A new sensation this time for Klaus, of being filled. The heat of Dorian's seed flooded him, the most perfect possession possible -- impossible to imagine until he'd been so claimed. This was what Dorian felt, why after making love the thief would lay in corded arms and make exquisite promises of forever.

It was a drugging feeling, the after-effects of that possession, and Klaus just laid there for a moment, dragging his arms slowly to encircle Dorian's shoulders. " 's wonderful."

"I didn't hurt you?" Ashamed that he should only now think to ask, the boneless sprawl atop Klaus nuzzled what portions of the man beneath him he could without moving. That turned out to be a shoulder and part of Klaus' neck.

"Dun' care." Truthful -- he hadn't even bothered to check, probably wouldn't bother unless he felt pain -- and wouldn't care even then. "Dorian, I..." He let a hand stroke Dorian's back slowly, savouring the odd feeling of Dorian softening within him. "I do love you."

How to answer that? "I know." He did, having been told in not so many words before, but it was deeply gratifying to hear it plainly put for once. "Klaus... Thank you, for letting me- You're really mine as much as I am yours, aren't you?"

"'ve been for a while," Klaus told him in a drawl that he recognised as particularly sleepy. The ball had drained Klaus, and he'd said before they'd begun that he was tired... So it was only to be expected that he shifted a little, Dorian slipping free at last, as Klaus started to make himself comfortable.

Dorian shifted as little as necessary, comfort being relative to tiredness. He was quite tired as well this evening, so comfort was easy to reach. "I can only guess so much, and I'm always afraid of guessing wrong... I like to be told these things now and again." And he'd gotten his fill this evening, enough to keep his heart soaring for weeks.

"Ja. Tomorrow, we have reservations for dinner at... some place. Forgot the name. You'll like it," Klaus assured him hazily, pressing a kiss to the edge of Dorian's mouth at the same time he gave up finding the sheets. "Guten Nacht."

"Guten Nacht. I do love you too, Klaus. I can't remember if I've told you yet today..."

"You tell me every day." In a thousand different ways than the words Dorian so adored.

And Silence fell with joy.