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It had started innocently enough.

But, everything always seemed to start that way, just before the lingering drop downwards.

He'd wanted Albrecht Durer's famous self portrait, an ambitious goal, but it was a beautifully done painting, and he'd been learning a little of the beauty found in realistic, technical lines. Trying to find a medium point between his own whimsy and his major's steel.

After he'd gassed out the guards, there had been plenty of time to admire the other works there. He'd decided to take both the Durer and a painting by a talented unknown -- when someone behind him had yanked off his gas-mask veil and chloroformed him.

He'd awakened in a tiny bedroom, beautiful - almost forcibly so - the decorum straining towards elegance . Twice a day, for what felt like two weeks, he'd been slid food through a small panel that opened at the bottom of the door.

The one window was tall and set high, too narrow for him to slip through even if there hadn't been horizontal steel bars blocking his escape. The door, too, was locked on the outside; no key-holes, no cracks on the inside. The single lamp was turned on at regular intervals, to simulate day and night hours for him that matched those he could barely see through the one window. There were three books for him to read, as if they'd been out there absentmindedly.

And not a stitch of clothing anywhere. There was a pile of *furs*, though, extravagant pelts that he could wrap his slightly chilled body in when he sat in the heavy leather chair and read.

It was all very civilized, comfortable even, and excruciating, too. It was as if he'd been scooped up and put into an elegant, human-sized cage.

There were all the comforts one could ask for, the soft furs to lay on as blankets, and to wrap himself up in, good shampoo, and a deep sink on the other side of the room, a porcelain toilet beside it. Yet there was always a lingering feeling of being watched. There were no mirrors, no two-way tricks that he could think of, but there was always the lingering knowledge that someone was looking at him, someone was tracking his movements, eating, sleeping.

Specimen on display: Dorian Red, Earl of Gloria.

He couldn't stand it. He'd only stopped pounding on the door a few days ago, but he was feeling a fresh wave of desperation wash over him again. Clutching the fur around him, Dorian walked to the tastefully paneled door and hammered it with his fist.

"Let me out of here, you bloody bastard! I don't care who you are, you have no right to keep me here like this! Now be a man and *show* yourself!!"

He couldn't have expected any answer at all, given how he'd been ignored for so many days -- but the little slot at the bottom of the door opened.

"Face down on the floor," an implacable voice told him, "and put your hands out here."

"W-What?" he said, stunned at getting a reply. "Who are you? Why are you keeping me here?"

"Lay down and slide your hands through the slot -- and perhaps I will open the door for you." There was something about the voice that told him it was being disguised, and well -- pitched in a way that no human being's voice should normally be. Metallic, like that of a man using equipment to change it for him.

He trusted whoever it was not one bit. But this was the only communication he'd gotten in days, or perhaps even weeks, and he didn't want to wait a similar amount of time to get another chance.

So, he did what he was told to, lying down beside the door and slipping both hands through the opening.

Cold metal touched his wrists, and it took a moment to register the feel of handcuffs, closing quickly around his wrists, the chain between the cuffs minimal.

"Now, stand and move back from the door. Sit in your chair."

Dorian brought his hands back in, quickly, and stared down at them. "Cuffs?" he muttered. "What the hell?" He stared at the slot, hoping to view a glimpse of the man outside the door. Nothing. He stood, walked across the room to the leather chair and then sat down, pulling his fur to cover him from shoulders to knees.

The slot was closed and locked first -- too familiar sounds for him to hear, the sealing of the three bolts that were just for that -- and then he heard a series of unlockings, that ended with the door swinging outwards, and then closed swiftly behind an unexpected figure, locked again.

"How have you enjoyed your stay so far at Schloss Eberbach...?" The metallic tone was gone now, replaced with one untampered.

To say that Dorian was surprised would have been a breathtaking understatement. Blue eyes widened in shock. He stumbled to get the words out, until they tumbled in a stream.

"M-Major? You... I... Major! Lovely to see you. Having a bit of a joke, are you? Well I can tell you it wasn't at all funny! Take these things off my hands. I can't believe you'd *do* something like this! Was it a dare from one of your alphabets?"

"Not a dare at all," was the man's serious rejoinder. "Not a dare at all. You see, Lord Gloria, Eroica... Dorian. I'm sick of being your much vaunted prey. Now the tables are turned, and I much more like you this way than any other way." There was something, in the way Klaus crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the sealed door, something in the gleam of green-grey eyes, looking at him from beneath thick black lashes, that scared him. The edge of Klaus' mouth had curled up in that dangerous sneer that was a sign of dangerous unreigned-in insanity.

Staring back at Klaus face, Dorian willed himself not to panic. Surely this was just one of Klaus's temper tantrums and he'd get over it soon. Best just to humor him and keep looking for a way out.

"So," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You like me better this way? What 'way' is this? In solitary confinement? Naked? Chained? I must say your tastes have changed since last we spoke."

"Out of my fucking hair, you shit, and where I can see you." He didn't move for a long moment, just let his eyes circulate and roam around the room. "Are the decorations to your taste?"

"Gorgeous," Dorian replied, biting back a wave of bitterness at the insulting tone and words, "so obviously someone other than you were responsible for them. Got a little wifey now to do your decorating for you?"

"It hasn't been that long since you were last harassing me on a mission." Klaus sneered at him sharply, pushing away from the door with his powerful machine-like grace, moving towards the chair that Dorian sat in. "Stand up, and sit on the floor."

Feeling more like spitting in the man's eye, Dorian frowned up at him and obeyed, sitting down on the carpet as gracefully as he could with hands in cuffs.

"What's up now," he spat out, "a good stiff beating?"

Klaus seated himself in that leather chair, and sat stiffly for a moment, looking down at him. "You're not used to being the unhappy one, are you?" he asked, that gleam glittering sickly in the back of his eyes. "I bet I can find a way to make both of us happy."

"Really?" Dorian said, "so can I. You let me go and I'll just stay away from you for the rest of my life." He lifted his cuffed hands and murmured, "It's obvious I've completely misjudged you and obviously I need to find a saner man on which to lavish my affections."

"Don't tell me this isn't something you've wanted." One hand shot out, to tangle into his thick hair. Thankfully, the hand in his hair didn't yank at the golden curls; instead, Klaus started to stroke his long fingers through, even after that erratic first movement.

A shiver went through the Englishman at the touch of those fingers. "Major... what the devil are you doing? I mean... yes, I admit, I've found you very attractive in the past, but... you certainly have never returned the feelings." He tried to pull away slightly but the fingers were insistent. "Besides... I don't much like being chained up."

"The cuffs are just until you're used to what I want," he was told, that rough voice meant for bellowing orders dropping to a low, lazy drawl. The feel of fingers combing slowly though his hair, stroking against his scalp, continued. "You're not going to leave here until you've been trained properly."

Trying to jerk his head away, Dorian frowned. "Trained?" he said with contempt. "Look, Major, I don't know what in bloody hell you've been smoking, but this has gone far enough! Now take off these ridiculous cuffs and I'll be gone - out of your life for good. You'll never see or hear from me again, all right? That's what you want, isn't it? My absence?"

Now the fingers tightened in his hair, with a strength he knew could pull his hair out by the roots if Klaus so desired. "No -- I want you to be controllable, but if the treatment you're getting now is too fucking good for you to do that, I can get you in worse."

A flash of pain went through Dorian's scalp, making him gasp a little, freezing in place. "Damn, you!" he said through clenched teeth, "you said you wanted me out of your hair, so let me go and I'll gladly oblige you! What's the point of keeping me here?"

"I want you out of my hair, but I don't want you to go away -- that's why you've been such a fucking pain for so long. I want you, but I can't stand to have you fouling things up, so this is the perfect way to keep you." The grip didn't loosen -- not yet.

Now Dorian's neck was hurting, held in place by the strong grip and he unable to move at all. "You... you want me?" he said in disbelief. "I thought you hated me, Major."

"I hate your carelessness; from now on, you won't have any responsibilities of the sort that can cost lives. Understand that? I will not loose another fucking agent of mine just because you're a selfish son of a bitch!" Now the hand yanked a little, pulling him up more before releasing him with a bit of a toss backwards -- so Dorian found himself sitting a few feet back.

Watching as Klaus drew his hand back, and folded his arms over his chest again. The fingers of his right hand curled tightly into the elbow of his left shirt-sleeve.

So, that had been the catalyst -- the agent, M, who'd been shot in cross-fire between the Soviets and NATO when Dorian was baiting them both over a piece of film.

"I told you how very sorry I was about M, Major. Is this what my captivity is all about? Because if it is, why don't you just hand me over to the authorities? Why..." He looked down at the cuffs and his nakedness, the fir having slipped to his lap. "Why *this*?" he asked bitterly.

"Because you'd only evade the authorities. Escape -- someone who understands what you're capable of needs to make sure you're not going to fuck anything else up. It isn't all a game, Lord Gloria, and it's time you learned that." The muscles of his right hand seemed to twitch, curling and uncurling in the material they'd latched onto, Klaus looking at some distant point unseen in the room.

"And you intend to teach me... what?" Dorian asked, feeling angrier than ever.

"How to fucking behave!" Klaus shot to his feet then, and in a blink of motion, froze himself from doing anything else -- he sat back down, jaw clenching and unclenching steadily. "Come back and sit at my feet."

"Sitting at your feet is 'how to behave'?" Dorian said, staring at the German in disbelief. "No. I won't. You may be angry at me - you may hate me, but I'm not your slave! If you want to beat me up, just... just get it over with..." His voice trailed off, anxiety creeping in as he remembered just what kind of a beating Klaus could deliver.

"I'm not going to beat you," the German all but seethed, "so sit the fuck down where I tell you."

Dorian stared a few more moments before standing and walking to where Klaus was seated. If the other man had wanted him to crawl, he wouldn't have the satisfaction.

He dropped down to the floor again, wrapping the fur a little more tightly around him. "The least you could do is give me some bloody clothes," he muttered.

"Why? You never wore much before," Klaus blandly reminded him. "Shirts open to your crotch, short that were underwear... why bother?"

"Yes, well - that was my *own* choosing, wasn't it?" Dorian said pointedly, "and you never approved of those outfits as I recall. You should be the last one wanting to see me naked."

"I don't approve of those outfits in public. But no one else is going to see you here -- here you're going to be kept away from the rest of the world and anyone else you could endanger. I'm going to make this fucking work." He rested a hand on his own knee, closest towards Dorian, and patted a little. "Rest your head here."

"And if I don't?" the Earl said, anger flaming again at Klaus's words.

"We can do this two ways, Eroica -- we can do it this way, and you do what I tell you to, or I can lock you in a god-damned cage until you don't know what *year* it is, let alone what day." That glint was in his eyes again, that dangerous, unhinged glint, as he patted his knee once more.

Dorian stared at him, eyes hard but questioning.

"Is that the way you really want me, Major? Or would you rather have my head on your knee?"

"I'd much rather we do things this way -- you're meant for a nice environment, meant to be comfortable."

Another moment passed while the Englishman stared at his captor, and then he moved forward and slowly lowered his head to Klaus's knee.

/Dear God... what will it be next...?/

Fingers knitting through his hair again, stroking slowly, so careful in their touch. "Will you listen to me from now on, or will I have to give up this tack

Dorian considered his options briefly and then said, "I'll listen."

"Good." The stroking didn't stop, and Klaus, edgy and tense, seemed to relax a bit. He exhaled once, and lit a cigarette with his free hand. "You're better this way."

"I am?" Dorian asked, wary. "Why is that?"

"Because I think with work you'll be a perfect pet."

The blond froze under those insistent fingers. "Pet?" he asked quietly. "Whatever do you mean by that, Major?"

"Just what I said," the rough voice insisted, just as those fingers insisted, and Dorian's nudity insisted. "You're mine now. Just mine, not anything else, and soon you'll learn to enjoy it."

It was hard to speak. Dorian's mind worked wildly to comprehend the implications of what the other man was saying. He was suppose to stay here and not do *anything?* Never go out? Never see his home again? Never continue his career as Eroica or go to parties or browse museum galleries? It was impossible!

"Tell me if there's anything you want to make your stay here better."

"Oh, you mean like freedom or some such thing?" Dorian said lightly.

The hand in his hair stilled for a moment. "No. No, I don't -- you're not going to leave, and I'm going to see to it that you don't want to."

The blond man's heart began to pound, panic spreading over him. "You realize that holding me here against my will is a crime, don't you? You can't just keep me here and tell me I can never go home again!"

But Klaus seemed no the least bit threatened by it. "No one knows you're here."

"Yes, but my men will start to wonder, won't they? And a few ex-lovers as well."

It hadn't been the right thing to say -- Dorian felt it in the still tenseness of Klaus' hand when it paused. "That's too damn bad. Understand that?î

"And what if they come looking for me?" the blond man ventured. "My men, I mean. What if they call the police?"

"Call the police why? Because they think I've done away with you?" A rich, frightening laugh reached his ears, harsh counterpoint to tender touch. "They've already asked me for help in finding you."

"Have they," Dorian said quietly, feeling genuine despair for the first time since Klaus had come in. "So I'm never to see my home - or my homeland - again?"

"You will, once I'm sure you're not going to be a flight risk," he was assured, though Klaus' tone wasn't an assuring one.

"You said you'd make me want to stay," the Earl said, almost curious. "Just how are you going to do that?"

"You've said for years that you love me -- now you'll prove it," the German man told him, as if that was the sanest thing that had ever passed his lips.

Dorian tried to raise his head but found Klaus's hand clamping it down. "How will I do that, Major?" he said uneasily.

"By being obedient to me -- by doing what you're told until you're trained. Then it won't be hard any longer." Klaus shifted lifting his strong hand. "Move back."

/Obedient? I guess Iron Klaus is living up to his nickname.../

Dorian stood and walked to the bed, sitting down and staring at the man he'd thought he knew. Could M's death really have unhinged him this much? Had he and the other agent been close? Lovers maybe?

Klaus remained seated a moment more, watching Dorian intently. "Come back here, and take your fur with you, this time. I just got back from a mission and I'm tired. We're going to sleep together tonight, Dorian."

"Are we?" Dorian asked, then stood and retrieved the fur from the floor, wrapping it around himself tightly. "Well," he said, trying to make light of the bizarre situation, "which side of the bed do you want? I hope you don't snore."

That rough-edged glint in Klaus' eyes seemed to tear between amusement and anger as he stood sharply. "Just lie down. I hope you can sleep with those cuffs on."

"What?" Dorian asked sharply. "You're going to leave me in these?"

"Of course. I can't trust you well enough yet to allow otherwise." He moved again, long legs moving him close to his fur-wrapped captive. "Do you find the bed comfortable?"

"As comfortable as it could be, given it's a prison bed," Dorian said, lying down on his back, his hands on his chest.

"It's not a prison bed -- I could give you a worse one," Klaus said warningly as he stopped beside the bed. His eyes... so crazed, so brimming with almost too *many* things. Too sharp, and Dorian could feel them running down the length of his body. Then Klaus took a step backwards, just one, and started to unbutton his shirt.

Grateful for the fur now, Dorian stared pointedly at the ceiling. If Iron Klaus had changed his mind and wanted to be ogled, he would have to learn this was not the way to get what he wanted.

Klaus didn't undress in a teasing, sultry manner, though. He was straightforward, stripping completely nude, letting his clothes be set neatly on the floor, before he moved to lay beside Dorian. The fur was yanked roughly off of him, though, as the German man decided to replace it's feel with his own body.

The Earl let out a shocked yelp at the feel of him. "M-Major? What the hell are you doing? Have you been drinking or is it drugs?"

"Shut up, Dorian," Klaus murmured as he pulled the blankets up over them both, pulling Dorian's body close around them. His nude body pressed hotly to the Earl's, with no defined intent yet. "I'm doing what I want."

"Rather hard to believe after all these years," the Englishman muttered, trying very hard not to enjoy what was happening. The lean, hard body felt every bit as good as he'd always fantasized it would, but really - to finally be there, in Klaus's arms under these conditions! How could he possibly feel good about it?

"Relax," came the stiff-sounding snarl from just beside and partly over him. "And go to sleep."

"Right," said Dorian, feeling crankier than ever at that order. He was quiet, though, and stared up at the ceiling, beginning to plan an escape.

Not that it would work very well, given Klaus' security and paranoia-- now possibly running rampant. And if he failed and was caught....

Klaus seemed content to lay there for a while, half-sleeping. But it couldn't last forever, and he soon shifted just a little, to take Dorian's mouth in a rough kiss.

Blue eyes widened at the touch and for a moment Dorian froze completely. Whatever had happened to Klaus had changed the man profoundly. He could understand anger and revenge coming from the German, even kidnapping and imprisonment didn't take too much extrapolation, but... *this?* No, something was very wrong indeed with Major Eberbach.

The kiss insisted for a moment, and then Klaus drew back, tasting Dorian's mouth against his own still. "Sleep well."

Unable to move or speak, the blond was left to lie awake and wonder what in hell had happened to NATO's finest.

Eventually sleep came -- thought it might have been uncomfortable hours later.


When he awoke, things hadn't' changed much. Except that Klaus was still laying beside him, an arm secured over his chest, with his eyes open now. Staring at Dorian's face, eyes memorizing every line.

Dorian blinked several times, hoping against hope the sight of Klaus's face would dissolve into a remnant of dream, the way it always did, but then he tried to stretch and the cuffs brought him up short.

"Damn, it isn't just a nightmare, is it?"

"If you don't change your attitude, Dorian, I'll have to change it for you," came the sharp warning, too loud that early in the morning. Klaus pulled his arm back a little, but only to press the palm of his hand down on Dorian's chest, touching.

"I suppose you'd kill me, then. That would be one way out..."

"I won't kill you, Dorian," he was told in an assuring tone, "but I'd hate to break you."

"I thought that's what you wanted, Major," Dorian said quietly. "You want a little toy that you can play with when you feel like it. Won't that require 'breaking' me anyway?"

The hand on his chest slid up to his neck, and rested over it loosely. "I can do it any way at all -- if you drop this attitude, I won't even have to do that."

"What attitude are you talking about?"

"Defiant." The gleam, again, as Klaus levered himself back a little and *looked* hard at the Earl.

Dorian stared, too, at Klaus's lips. "You want me to be submissive?" he whispered. "Would that excite you?"

It seemed he would get a vague evasion for a moment -- some sort of answer that could be taken in any direction. He'd already gotten enough of those, though, so it was almost a relief to get Klaus' familiar bluntness. "Yes."

Almost. What comfort could it really be to have the man you'd pursued for years suddenly decided he wanted you -- that he wanted you as a *pet*, a captured submissive...

The NATO office truly had lost his mind.

Two feelings warred for pre-eminence in Dorian's mind and heart. On the one hand, what Klaus seemed to be demanding was unthinkable - the position of a slave, unable to do what he wanted, to move about freely, his former life ripped away from him. Yet, he couldn't deny a vague thrill that went through him at the Major's blunt admission. But surely... he didn't wish for his own imprisonment!

"And what would you do with me," he said quietly, "if I acted like that?"

"I'd see to it that you were as content as possible." A pet on a pedestal, then? "But it's your choice how we do this."

"What do you think would make me 'content' major?" came the quiet reply.

"The same lifestyle your accountant was always complaining about... and this." Klaus leaned in again, slowly, and caught Dorian's lips in a firm kiss, completely in control of the motions. "Mein."

The warmth and pressure in it took Dorian's breath away momentarily, a small shudder of pleasure moving through him. When he managed to speak he murmured, "Seems a strange thing to do with someone you hate... Isn't this... compromising your principles?"

"Nein." Not as long as Dorian wasn't free and wrecking havoc on the world, stealing and being an aristocratic greedy fop... Klaus moved again, now over him. His frame was more enticing than ever as he loomed over Dorian, laying just barely atop him, eyes boring deep into the thief's. "As long as I keep you, it doesn't. You'll understand that it's better this way, soon. That it's the only way."

"Will I," the blond murmured, caught by the intensity of those eyes and shivering, half excited, half afraid. "But I thought... you didn't like sex?"

"How about you forget anything you've thought -- it doesn't fucking matter how you see things anymore, understand?" It wasn't an answer to his question -- it was a hard dismissal, while those eyes flashed darkly and focused *through* his face.

"Major... what's happened to you?" the Earl whispered, fear gaining ground over desire. "Were... were you and M...?"

"Agent M wasn't a pervert like you, no," came the almost snarl. "I just got fucking tired of you costing me time, effort and lives. It's damn time you learned discipline."

The hypocrisy of what the man was saying was just too much for Dorian.

"If *I'm* a pervert, then *you're* one too, judging by where you are right now!" he said, glaring up at the other man.

"Didn't I already tell you to drop this attitude?" Klaus asked him, starting to lever back, lifting himself easily off of Dorian. "I'll have to punish you for that -- you will listen to me, god-dammit!"

"Punished for telling the *truth*?" Dorian replied, feeling a wave of anger. "Don't call me a pervert when you want the same things that I do!"

Klaus rose out of the bed, and stripped back the comfortable sheets with him. "Not for that, for mouthing off at me. You will not do that again. Stand up," he ordered roughly, as he pulled *some* of his clothes back on underwear and slacks. No shirt was bothered with, though Dorian must had known what he was planning when he began to slowly thread his ox-hide belt out of the loops.

Dorian didn't bother to argue, just stood and glared at the man before him. "I wouldn't mouth off if you treated me with a little respect," he muttered.

"You already get respect -- you expect to be catered to. Turn around and put your hands on the bed. Brace yourself." He curled his hand in a fist over the metal buckle, and then wrapped the belt around his hand once as he waited for Dorian to do as he'd been told. "I'll do this to you every time you talk back to me -- six strikes this time, seven next time."

"You'll *what?" Dorian asked, horrified. "I won't do it!"

Grey-green eyes seemed to boil over with sharp anger, and Klaus' thin patience snapped. He shoved Dorian down, twisting him so that he landed across the bed on his stomach. And before the thief could move, brought the leather down across both globes of Dorian's ass. The strength behind the blow was all the strength Klaus used to brace his arm when he fired the magnum -- it started to bruise right away, the second strike already coming down again.

The Earl let out a scream of pain, fighting to get out of Klaus's grip. It proved impossible, however. All he could do was scream and scream and hope someone with a rational mind could hear him.

Klaus didn't hit him six times -- only five, but it was enough that Dorian wasn't aware when he *stopped* -- only heard the belt hit the rug on the floor, the metal clinking softly as Klaus sat down beside him and started to gather him close. "It's your own fault for not listening."

But the blond man was in shock, entire body trembling and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His eyes were wide and staring, face tear streaked as he stared at the wall on the other side of the room and tried to stop crying. His ass glowed in stinging agony.

Klaus had hit him before over the years. He'd sometimes had to bear the marks of those bad encounters -- a black eye, or a bruised cheek, aching ribs. But this.... was something completely different. It was completely different to have a belt taken to his ass, and then to have *Klaus*, of all people, pull him close, onto his lap, tucking the head of blonde hair against his shoulder as he cradled Dorian near. "Learn from your mistake and I won't have to do that again."

For several minutes, all Dorian could do was shudder and sob quietly. Then, so quiet it was barely audible, he whispered, "Tell me why I shouldn't hate you."

"Because I'm trying to do you a favor." He stroked one hand down the line of Dorian's still shaking back. "You want to be with me? These are my terms."

The Englishman's eyes closed at those words, tears spilling silently from beneath long lashes. He didn't bother pointing out that Klaus wasn't giving him a choice to be with him or not, and he tried to take comfort in the arms that were around him. It seemed though, that somehow, horribly, the man he'd known as Major Eberbach was gone forever, this terrible stranger taken over a once beloved identity and the thought brought down despair such as he'd never felt.

Not just any stranger -- a stranger with all of Klaus' strength, his form and voice. Those eyes were the same color, but the emotions in them... this was not the man who doodled badly drawn pictures of suspects or Soviets in important meetings. This was not the man who'd, occasionally, given in just a little, even if only out of shock, to his attempts at courtship. But this Klaus touched him, this Klaus wanted him, this Klaus...

Was fucking insane, he was sure of it, when the German man began to croon softly at him, rocking him just a little.

That scared Dorian more than anything else had so far. The man was so obviously insane, so profoundly loose from reality, that any hope the Englishman might of had of reaching through to some rational part of him was dashed.

Klaus was deranged and he was taken Dorian down with him. He was a madman's prisoner and there was no way out.

Security was tight to begin with, probably twice as much now that Klaus had someone he wanted to keep *in*.

"You don't have to cry, Dorian. It wasn't really so bad."

There was nothing Dorian could say to that. The only thing for it, he was realizing with some horror, was to try to distance himself from what was happening to him and hope that Klaus got violent enough someday soon to kill him. He couldn't expect the German man to make a slip. It just wouldn't happen.

So, he imagined he was back in his castle and did his best to stop crying.

"I'm doing this because I love you," Dorian heard, whispered softly near his ear, as Klaus returned to stroking along his back. "But I have to go back to work now -- Tell me, is there anything you want while I'm gone?"

"No," Dorian whispered. "Nothing at all..."

Klaus slipped Dorian out of his grasp, but not until he'd taken a kiss -- light, not the rough thing of the night before. "I expect to be welcomed back properly when I return. Are you sure you don't' want something?" The tone... was painfully close to Klaus' old tones, the mannerisms as he let Dorian lay back gingerly on the bedding.

Dorian shook his head, wondering what the hell a "proper" welcome would include. Since he didn't know, he tried to get used to the idea that he'd be beaten for it.

/For the first time since I've met you, I hope I don't see you again soon.../

"Then I'll be back this evening." He rose fully to his feet again, and put on his undershirt, and then half-buttoned his shirt. Took one final glimpse of Dorian, and then he finished threading he belt back through the loops and left. Left Dorian alone in his exquisitely decorated hell.


As it turned out, Dorian got his wish.

Two days had gone by and Klaus had not returned. He hadn't bothered to take off the cuffs before he'd gone, and Dorian's wrists were red and chafed. Eating was nearly impossible and so most of the time he wandered around the well-appointed room, staring at the pictures on the walls and trying his best to forget that he'd had a life outside, with friends and comforts.

For all intents and purposes, he said to himself, his life had ended when Klaus had brought him to the Schloss, and now he was simply waiting to die. That was the way to look at it really, he told himself. He was merely on borrowed time.

It was nearing on three days when the door finally made sounds -- the intricate locks of the outside being undone, and then swinging outwards.

Somehow, it was now a *different* Klaus that strode into the room. Klaus didn't stride this time. He walked in, with a form that was stiff with pain, a limp on his right, and closed the door behind him. Completely fresh from a mission -- his shoulder holster was still in place, the gun's safety on, but probably loaded. No words, no orders barked out or actions apparently expected as he moved forwards, and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket.

The cuffs were unlocked at two points, each wrist taking a different key, and Klaus visibly winced when he say the state of Dorian's skin beneath them. "Come over by the sink and let me take care of that."

Dorian followed him, too uncomfortable to cause trouble, and murmured, "What happened to you?" before realizing that he shouldn't care anymore.

But he still cared, no matter how odd it was.

"Soviets are getting to be better shots than they used to be -- Sniped on a mission that was completely unexpected." And the grim, tired tone nearly screamed that it had either been a failure or a waste of effort. "I'm sorry you were left here like this." Words accompanied action -- Klaus unlocked a cupboard under the sink and pulled out a bottle of iodine, and some clean cloth bandages. If Dorian had truly been desperate enough, or though Klaus would be the death of him, he could have struck him across the back of the head while he was bent over like that, taken the keys and run.

And the thought occurred to him, but he had no strength to do it. Something of his old relationship with the man Klaus had been made it impossible anyway. Instead he just murmured tiredly, "I'm sorry I was left here like this as well."

Klaus pulled Dorian over to the sink, and began to run cool water, rinsing the scrapes before he started to apply the iodine. "Tell me Dorian, short of letting you walk out of here, what would make you happy?"

"Happy?" Dorian said, wincing at the sheer burn of the antiseptic over already hurting flesh. "How can I be happy when I'm a prisoner?"

Quiet reigned, though, as Klaus blotted up the excess and, after applying a slick substance that numbed the pain, started to wrap each wrist carefully. Strong fingers were exhausted -- Dorian could feel it, that tiredness he'd seen a few other times when the man hadn't slept for a few days. But he was precise and gentle as he tucked the ends away neatly, then pulled Dorian close to kiss him -- not rough, not so fiercely probing as the first. He closed his eyes when he kissed Dorian, catching the Briton's bottom lip in his mouth to suck at slowly.

No fight available even for that, but then, Dorian still held a remnant of obsession for the man, even though it had cooled considerably over the past three days. So he let himself be kissed as well, part of him wanting to kiss back but not quite being able to do it.

Not yet -- not when the bruises from the beating he'd been given still lingered. But the kiss was so much better than having had imagined Klaus doing it, especially when a searching tongue slip between his lips, coaxing Dorian's to join the sensuous exploration.

The blond man whimpered in frustration. He didn't want to give in to Klaus, didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of thinking his brutality had worked, and yet there was something there, in that kiss, that still made his heart race. Slowly, patiently, Klaus's tongue pulled his own in and that made Dorian's cheeks red with shame... with shame and pleasure.

The tangle dragged on, and Klaus didn't relent in it until Dorian's cheeks felt like they were on fire; when he pulled back, it was with aching deliberate slowness. "To bed now, Dorian?"

And just what did that mean? The breathless Earl was led, rather dazed, to the bed, pondering the possibilities.

Klaus kept an arm around Dorian's waist while he stripped off his suit -- partly to keep the pet's body close to his own, partly to have support when he stepped out of his pants, when he kicked off his boots. Around the top of one thigh was a tight field bandage, stained reddish brown a little on the outer side. "You're beautiful, Dorian," Klaus breathed in his ear once he was fully undressed, pulling Dorian's body close against his own. So close that hips pressed in a promise of things to come.

"I... uh... your leg..." Dorian murmured, trying to tear his eyes away from Klaus's, not wanting in the least to feel desire for a man who been keeping him locked away against his will. "What happened?"

"I told you already," he murmured in tired amusement, "the soviets are getting to be better shots than they used to be." And any other question that could have followed was cut off with another coaxing, slow kiss.

This was patently unfair to Dorian's mind, which was slowly losing its grip on his behavior. He could fight against hostility and abuse, but this... this was almost wonderful, even hungry and angry and tired. This was sabotage...

Sabotage perfectly aimed, too. Klaus laid down first, pulling Dorian down atop him, before covering Dorian's back with the fur -- and then rested his hand atop that, stroking a little. There was nothing quite like the feel of fur tickling against one's back, stroking down the line of his spine... "Tomorrow I'll have a proper English breakfast ready for when we wake up."

"Why are you being so kind all of a sudden?" Dorian asked warily, not wanting to move, not wanting to do something to bring back the madman.

"Because you weren't happy and neither was I," Klaus murmured, still stroking along his back. A turn of his head, and he kissed the side of Dorian's face, the gesture an almost chaste, embarrassed one -- that felt *right* coming from Klaus.

"Oh," Dorian said, feeling extremely confused. Was he *supposed* to be happy there? Surely Klaus didn't expect him to settle down and enjoy being imprisoned... "Well, it's better than getting beaten I suppose."

"That was a mistake," Klaus offered, "and I shouldn't have done it." An apology!

Dorian lay there for a moment, head on Klaus's chest, listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat. The man was making no sense at all, or perhaps it was that he finally *was* making sense, which was so different from he had been.

"Well, that's nice of you to say," the Englishman murmured. "I don't suppose you'll let me go as well?"

"Can't. NATO isn't protecting you from Interpol any longer -- it wouldn't be wise." It was a change for the better, compared to the last time they'd laid together -- calm, almost casual.

/What the hell is going on!/ the blond thought to himself. /Three days ago I was scum that had to be caged away from the world. Now he's doing it for my own protection! What the bloody hell happened!/

"So... you're protecting me?"

"Ja. If I didn't do this, you'd be too stubborn to listen to me and you'd end up caught." Which Dorian would have considered a horrible fate, if he hadn't already been captured.

"And this is a better prison than I could expect otherwise," the Earl murmured. But it couldn't be that, he found himself thinking. If it was, Klaus's behavior the first day wouldn't have been what it was.

Or, perhaps it had been the initial justification of the act, and one of the other was just another... Klaus was still NATO's finest, and surely he was still mad. It seemed now he had degrees of it, though... "Yes, I'm sorry."

The sense of fatalism had come back and Dorian found himself fighting melancholy. It was hard not to think about his home, his friends. At least when you were convicted in a court, you had time to get used to the idea of being imprisoned for life. This had been... so completely and horribly unexpected.

"Decent of you," he found himself saying, unsure of how much irony he really meant to put into the words.

It didn't get him a threat of a beating, though -- so perhaps it hadn't been very much that was actually in the words. "You should sleep -- if your wrists don't look better in the morning, I might call a doctor."

"Are you... are you staying in here tonight?" Dorian asked.

"Yes." Right where he was, with Dorian laying comfortably atop him, the furs, the blankets.

Trying to relax against him, Dorian held back a sigh. He had always dreamed of sleeping with Klaus, but never, never had he imagined it would be like this.


When he awoke again, he was alone in the bed. Alone, but the bed was even more comfortable this time, softer, larger.

Cracking open one eye showed him that he was in a different room entirely; it was a bit more conservatively decorated than the small room he'd been kept in before, but held that touch of a room decorated long long ago. Gilded moulding, old, old art works of medium skill level, a tapestry on the far wall. He hadn't been dressed when he was moved to the new, more spacious room, though he was still wrapped in the thick furs, tucked neatly beneath the blankets.

Dorian sat up slowly, letting the bedclothes and the fur slide off of his shoulders. The drapes were still drawn at the windows, but he felt rested enough that he knew it must be at least mid-morning. He wondered vaguely where Klaus had gotten to and found himself undecided as to whether he wanted to see the man.

Thought that was still a change from the last time he'd woken up to find Klaus gone, when he'd hoped to never see him again. Now... now he wasn't sure. Klaus was still obviously unsettled, obviously disturbed. Perhaps he'd gone back on duty, not to be seen for a few more days again? At least this time there were no cuffs on his wrists, and perhaps this room would be less secured than the last one.

Yet before he had too much time to contemplate that, the door opened Klaus, dressed in jeans and a plain olive t-shirt. A large tray was held with both hands so as to not spill anything, as he walked towards the bed; It held generous food, probably in an attempt to make up for what Dorian couldn't eat while so tightly restrained. "I see you're awake at last."

"Yes, and I feel much better for it," Dorian replied. "How is your leg?" /And why the hell am I asking?/

"Much better," he answered truthfully as he put the tray on the bare table beside the bed, and poured a glass of juice. "Do you want to serve yourself?"

"Yes," Dorian murmured and took one of the two plates, loading it with eggs and bacon. Klaus had even thought to provide kippers. He had not, however, provided knives or forks. Not even a spoon.

"Surely this isn't *your* kind of breakfast, Major," he said pointedly.

"Some of it is -- some of it isn't. Still, it's good food, and there's no reason to not try to accommodate what you're familiar with," Klaus murmured, picking up the second plate to get his own bacon and eggs.

Dorian ate in silence for a time, with his fingers. His gaze roamed around the room, looking at the paintings and searching for potential exits.

"Is this your bedroom?" he asked.

Klaus settled on the edge of the bed, pale balanced easily, fork in his free hand. "Yes. Could you tell?"

"It looks more lived in than the other," Dorian said matter-of-factly. "Not as ornate, either."

"No, not as ornate," Klaus agreed. "I hope you don't mind it so much -- but the space is larger, and the room's more comfortable." Apparently, he'd been moved to what Klaus considered an upgraded cell.

"Will you be going out on another mission soon?"

"No, not yet," he was informed, "Not until my leg's healed and something comes up."It was oddly casual, the feel of the room -- Klaus, sitting there and eating, talking with Dorian as if he did it every day.

/What am I to say? Pretend as though everything is fine? I'm just a house guest? That door lock looks pickable.../

"You really shouldn't bother trying to escape, Dorian -- this really is a better fate for you than prison." Klaus' voice, when he said it, wasn't smug in the least-- it was gentle, almost warning.

"You're right, of course," Dorian lied. "It's actually very kind of you to do this for me." /I'll just need something long and thin.../

"You're welcome -- how are you doing? Do your wrists feel better?"

"Yes, they do. The iodine did the trick." He had managed to polish off all his breakfast and was now staring at the draped windows. "Is it possible to open the windows today?" he asked meekly.

"Open the..." Klaus moved his plate, nearly empty, back onto the tray, and then moved to open them.

Only, Dorian found, much to his dismay, that they, too, had bars over them, even when opened.

He sighed softly. "Do you usually have bars on your windows," he murmured, "or were these put on just for me?"

"This building, Dorian, is a fort," Klaus informed him, "to a point. Strategically sound -- the bars are here for a reason and have been here for hundreds of years."

"A fortunate circumstance for you, then," the Earl said and looked down at himself absently. "Do I stay naked?" he asked.

Klaus crossed back to him, eyes lingering on his body. "I can't see the harm in it."

"Right," the blond said, staring back at him. "You seem to enjoy it well enough."

"Is there anything wrong with that?" the other man questioned him as he stepped near to put a knee down on the mattress. Not just that he reached a hand out, letting the backs of his fingers caress against Dorian's cheek.

"Ah... no..." Dorian said, his voice wary. "Not if you're honest about it..." He found the man's touch disturbingly pleasant and wasn't sure being on the bed with him was a good idea.

"Then I'll be honest and say that I enjoy seeing you this way very much." Paired with that candid admittance was the feel of his fingers sliding backwards, just far enough to thread into heavy curls. "And I enjoy touching you."

"Do you?" Dorian said, struggling not to lean into that touch. "Why didn't you say so before? Why only now... like this?"

His struggle, though, felt like that of a man fighting the tide from rising -- the touch only grew more tantalizing, as it went on, as Klaus leaned nearer to him. "Because it's safe."

"S-Safe?" the blond man said, his voice more breathy than he wanted it to be. The feeling of calloused fingers, the warm breath that washed over him, were like a dangerous and intoxicating drug, causing two desires in him - attraction and avoidance.

"Why is it safe now? Now that I'm a prisoner?"

"It's for your own protection," Klaus murmured. The closer he got Dorian, the softer his voice fell, until it was a sly whisper that tickled nearly against Dorian's lips.

"You're protecting me..." Dorian breathed, trying to pull back, "by seducing me?" His heart was stating to beat faster, cock twitching in a manner that betrayed the outrage he wanted to project. "An odd security system..."

No comment was made on that, though -- just the brushing caress of his mouth against Dorian's, that hand slipping down from heavy locks, down the lean line of his spine. The feel of Klaus' strong hand lingering against the small of his back, caressing, was so new!

"Ah~hh... Klaus... I..." The nearness of the German man was making him warm - too warm - and the warmth was spreading upwards to his brain, making it hard to speak or even think.

He'd been lusting after the man for years, after all, and now he was right there, lips brushing his, grey-green eyes boring into Dorian's with an intensity that the Englishman had only ever seen when Klaus was shooting something.

/I should be fighting back... those good old self-preservation instincts should be kicking in right about now... a good knee to the groin and... dear *god* he's beautiful!/

He might as well have been shooting Dorian, for all the fight the man had left in him when that first brushing kiss was over. the hand at his back splayed out, a caress that was spreading slowly, and Klaus took another kiss. "Lean back, Dorian -- it's so much better when I can see all of you."

"Klaus... I don't think..." Dorian's voice trailed off. What could he say? That he didn't want it? That Klaus shouldn't go any further? That Dorian demanded Klaus leave and leave immediately? He wasn't sure if wanted any of those at the moment and, in his confusion, he slipped up, and obeyed.

One hand stayed behind Dorian's back, now pinned between supple skin and the mattress; the other alighted on Dorian's chest, over his right nipple, barely putting down any pressure at all as his palm caressed over the hardening little nubbin. "You're like one of your prized statues." he breathed.

/Only statues don't argue with themselves over whether they want to be touched.../

The Englishman managed to stifle a gasp, but the feeling came out anyway as a little squirm under that large hand. "Don't please..." he murmured, the words sounding like what they were - a token protest for his pride's sake.

"You don't mean that," Klaus told him, leaning down to kiss one high-boned cheek, and then let his lips drag lingeringly over to Dorian's lips. The hand resting over his nipple stroked a little more, then pulled back to roll it between thumb and fore-finger. "You want this."

"No..." the blond man whispered, shuddering slightly under Klaus's touch. "Not... not this way... *uhhhn...*" Unable to help him self, Dorian's mouth opened to Klaus's, even as his back arched up against those maddening fingers, and under it all he felt a steady, throbbing ache between his legs that he wished to hell wasn't there.

But it *was* there, and it seemed to deepen when Klaus slipped his tongue between Dorian's lips. It seemed the German was going to put out an all out attack against him, overwhelm him not with the rough force as he'd tried that first night, but with sensations he never expected to have Klaus gifting him with. Kisses that were slow, experimental, the twisting and tender mauling of his nipples, and then the hand at his back a hand that slid down, cupping one firm buttock to squeeze, fingertips ghosting along the line between them.

"Ah, no!" Dorian cried out, but his voice and body betrayed him, the one breathy and wanting, the other shuddering with pleasure at the intimate touch. Fighting it, trying to make himself believe that he wanted Klaus to stop, was completely impossible, he realized, and that thought only made him squirm more as their kisses went on.

The next sensation was when Klaus moved a knee forwards enough to rub the thigh of his good leg against Dorian's aching erection, the scrape of denim enflaming it anew. "Yes. Yes, you want this, Yes, you've wanted if for years, and now you're going to have more than you thought you'd get." From that scrape Klaus slid down a little, the hand at Dorian's back pressed down, too, thumb pressing against the rose-bud tight entrance.

Another sharp cry escaped the blond man, his mind reeling from Klaus's words and his body... oh his body was *singing* to him! "Ohhh... I *want* it..." he admitted, eyes closed, his head moving back and forth on the pillow. "Please... oh, God, *please*..."

"Please what?" Klaus prompted, lips hovering over the nipple that had yet to receive any of his blessed attention. "Please what, Dorian?"

"Ohhh... *fuck* me!" Dorian demanded, bringing a curled fist down on the mattress.

A flicker of touch, that thumb pressing with a bit more pressure against his entrance, just heated friction. "I'll do that and more," he promised as he lowered his head a mere fraction to nip that hard nub of skin between his teeth.

Dorian moaned, wanting to arch upwards to both tongue and finger. Speech was failing him and he whimpered with every suckle, every press inwards, wanting nothing more than to be invaded. "*Please...*" he whispered.

As Klaus got more eager about the task of caressing each nipple, first one and then the other, his long hair spilled forwards more, those silken strands of black tickling Dorian's chest. It seemed to be a magnet for the Englishman's fingers, Dorian burying them in the thick, dark stuff before beginning to stroke it restlessly. Every small touch, event the lightest pressure, sent sparks of pleasure through him, making his breath come in small gasps and causing his body to writhe under Klaus's. "Such a beautiful man..."

"Mein." It was the only thing Klaus said in reply, as he lifted his head to move down more, kissing down the center of Dorian's lean-muscled body. "Mein..." the cloth of his t-shirt scraped over Dorian's flared cock-head, and then Klaus pulled back enough to deny Dorian entirely of any contact to his aching member.

"Uhhhn! More!" the blond man said, desperation in his voice. He was wriggling madly, wanting, *needing* friction that was suddenly and maddeningly absent. "GIve it to me, damn it!" he managed to get out, eyes pleading with the man above him.

"Hmnn, did you just curse at me?" Klaus purred, lifting his head to look at Dorian with the oddest glint in his eyes -- not vicious, but still not sane. "Patience, pet. Patience rewards."

Dorian blinked back at him, still squirming. "S-Sorry," he breathed, "only... I need it *so* badly, Major... please don't... well, *tease* me..."

"Don't tease...?" He shook hi head even as he lowered it, strands of black hair tickling Dorian's stomach as he lingered over the head of Dorian's erect cock. "You've teased for years -- a few minutes won't kill you."

Biting his bottom lip, Dorian managed to say, "Yes, but... you didn't care that I teased... it didn't drive you mad..." /The way your teasing is doing to me.../

"You don't know that," Klaus whispered in a rich breath. Surely he knew it drifted over the need-swollen skin, just as surely he knew that strands of raven-dark hair tickled around the base?

A long, low moan was the first reply he got. Dorian buried the side of his face in the pillow beneath him and couldn't stop his hips from arching up towards the source of that heat. "You didn't... act like it did..." he whispered.

"A spy can't let his weakness be known," Klaus almost smiled, as he let his tongue slip out to take a slight taste of the upward arched member.

Dorian cried out a raucously and pressed his hips upwards, aching for more. He was panting, head back and his body was covered in the finest sheen of sweat.

"Don't exhaust yourself for so little, Dorian," Klaus warned him with a rich smile. "Don't run in place before the race starts."

"Feels so *good*..." the Earl panted, "and I want more... just *fuck* me for god's sake! I *need* it!"

"It won't last long enough for me, if I just do that," the other man purred, moving down more to lick slowly at the underside of Dorian's cock. His eyes weren't closed -- no, instead of that, he was *looking* at Dorian, reading his reactions clearly as he moved up again to slid his lips down over the head of Dorian's cock. Teeth scraped, a sure sign that this was the first time Klaus had ever tried such an act.

A shudder ran through the blond man as he pressed upwards wanting to be buried in that warmth. He let out a soft groan and pressed Klaus's head closer to him. "Yes... *yes*..."

Klaus was putting his whole self into the act, though, reacting and responding with more of that pressing thumb against him, moving further down or pulling back more, letting lips and tongue soothe where teeth scraped by accident. It was just how he wanted the thief -- his, not in control of the actions.

"Will you do it, Major?" Dorian whispered, eyes closed again. "Will you fuck me the way I want you to?" He wriggled uncontrollably under Klaus's fingers. "I have been *so* patient these past few years..."

No answer, as Klaus jabbed the tip of his tongue against Dorian's slit, just to see the reaction to that squirming hard pressure against his cock head. It was a delight to play Dorian's body with such surety that anything would make him ask more.

The Earl was feeling frantic again, tension building until it felt like surely he'd pass out or fly apart from sheer desire. "*Please,*" he whimpered, "I *beg* you! Do something... do *anything*..."

A hard suckle to the tip of his cock, and then there was no stimulation at all to his aching member, Klaus pulling back and rising from the bed. "Wait a moment..."

"Ahhh! NO!!" Dorian cried, both fists slammed onto the bed this time. Blue eyes opened and flashed with complete frustration as his hands reached out to grasp Klaus's arms, trying to tug the other man close. "I don't want to wait!" he said in a desperate, breathy voice. "I need it *now*!"

"Wait." Klaus tore away easily, moving to the other side of the room to fetch something -- thought it was obvious he was walking slowly for the sheer purpose of aggravating Dorian.

"Where are you *going*?" he said and then turned over on his belly. "Fine! I'll just do it without you..." he said, burying his face in the pillow and grasping his own erection between his fingers.

"Don't touch yourself," Klaus said in a warning tone, as he pulled open a drawer to grab a small tube, and then closed it, walking casually back to the bed. "Or I won't fuck you."

Dorian propped himself on his hands, looking back at Klaus with an expression just this side of angry. "But you *aren't* fucking me!" he said, with a pout. "You've kept me here all this time and you haven't once fucked me."

"Would you have wanted it before now?" Klaus asked, setting a tube of lubricant down on the pillow near Dorian's head. Then he started to strip off his clothing, methodically, watching the blonde man's heated angry expression. Perfect.

"Well... *yes*... if you'd done things properly like you've done them now..." Dorian watched the careful folding, the slowness of the movements with increasing impatience. "That is up 'til *now.* You really know how to kill a mood, don't you?"

"NATO agent skill, I suppose." His leg was still wrapped as it had been the night before, but it didn't seem to effect him as he moved back onto the bed to kiss Dorian, one hand smoothing down to his tailbone.

A pout still rested on the beautiful face of the Englishman, who told himself sternly not to be mollified so easily. "Why on earth would you get up in the middle of... well, what was going on, and neatly take off your clothes when I could just have easily torn them off of you?" he asked.

"Next time, then -- I'm still learning," Klaus murmured, catching Dorian's lips firmly to kiss at them slowly. "How do you want to be fucked? Tell me."

"Mmm..." Reluctantly, Dorian let himself be kissed, half turning as Klaus's weight pushed down onto the bed. "Hard," he said between kisses, "from behind..."

"You have a perfect ass," Klaus mused, letting that one hand tease over its sleek curve, fingers dragging down the tight crevice. Another kiss, more heated. "On your knees, then."

The order made Dorian angry- and sent a rush of excitement through him as well, one that disturbed him no end. Still, he was terribly horny and he *wanted* Klaus inside of him, so he obeyed, turning back over and raising himself to hands and knees. Between his legs, his shaft gave a throbbing twitch.

It felt better than he'd imagined it would to have Klaus kneel behind him, between his legs that were spread to brace himself better on the bed. The German's thick shaft pressed up along the line of his bottom, nudging at his entrance without going in. Then Klaus leaned over him, pressing his chest to Dorian's back as he grabbed the tube from near the blond's head. "Hhhh, you're hot."

"*Over* heated, I would say," Dorian panted. The dull pressure of Klaus's cock against him was maddening and part of him wanted to simply push backwards and impale himself. But he'd seen Klaus without clothing and the man was *big* - bigger than he himself. It would smart without lubricant and he waited impatiently for the man to get it.

What he got first, though, wasn't what he'd expected -- not a hard, slicked cock pressing into him, but two long fingers at once, sliding in carefully, moving around almost at once. "Does that feel good?"

It did, actually. His ass was so needy for something to fill it that even fingers felt like heaven. "Uhhhn... yes," he whispered, arching his back and pressing back against them. There was a stroke of finger and then a keen race of pleasure went through him. "Oh! There..."

"Prostate," Klaus murmured, almost to himself, as he pressed there again, and then again, a little harder each time he mauled it over with both fingers.

Several soft cries spilled from Dorian, his eyes closing and head falling backwards, sending soft gold curls spilling down his back. "God *yes*! Oh, *please*fuck me... *please*..."

"Please...?" Klaus echoed, almost mimicking as he continued to maul against that gland -- not yet, he wasn't going to *yet*. First he wanted to make Dorian ache with pleasure.

Dorian groaned, pounding on the bed again, and dropped his head down to the pillow. His breath was coming in harsh pants, his bottom wriggling, pushing back against Klaus's fingers. "Oh, *god*!! *Please*, I *beg* you!!"

"Beg what, Dorian...? What are you begging me to do?" The pressure, that touch, didn't stop or slow in the least -- no reprieve was given, though he was obviously expected to give an answer. "Tell me, Dorian."

"I'm begging you to fuck me!"

It came out almost as a scream of frustrated desire and Dorian's fist hit the bed for a third time.

That scream must have been the magic words, though, because the fingers were pulled out of him with an aching slowness, and then he felt Klaus press the head of his cock against that small entrance. "Beautiful thief."

Dorian felt the prick of tears just as Klaus began to slide in. He told himself it was just from being teased for so long, that he'd gotten overwrought and that it wasn't anything particular about the man who held him, that it wasn't the sheer joy of giving in to the demands of Iron Klaus.

He lied to himself, and knew the lie for what it was.

"Ahhh... *god*..."

There was no pause from initial entry to the movements. Klaus sank in deep, deep as he could reach, and then rocked back, nearly all the way out. The hot clench around him was amazing, and his own softly huffed breaths echoed Dorian's moans when he pounded back in again.

The tears were falling now, straight from Dorian's eyes to the pillow below him. Everything about it was perfect, from the size of Klaus's cock to the deep, firm thrusts, and the Englishman was left trembling at the sheer eroticism of it all.

Every hard thrust inward scraped over the nub of his prostate and pulled sounds from him that were ancient and primitive, sounds of rutting... and sounds of submission.

Klaus fingers, that so effortless held guns, now effortlessly clutched at his hips, holding him firm in the face of each jolting thrust. "You're mine, Dorian. All... mine, now," he panted, voice still rough, but so deeply softened with want.

"Yours," the thief breathed, "oh, *yes*..." Each press inward seemed to force a soft moan from him and each time he pressed himself backward, driving Klaus as deep into him as possible.

It was more than he had ever imagined it would be. Dorian had always thought that, when he finally got the chance to make love to Klaus that he'd be in control. Overwhelming the man with pleasure. Coaxing the shy virgin into unspeakable perversions. That *Klaus* might overwhelm him completely, possess him, had never crossed his mind--

One hand loosed itself from holding onto his hip, and groped forwards, clutching around his cock tightly. A moment there, and then timed with one rough inwards thrust, Klaus started to stroke.

It was the last, perfect act, the only thing that could have made his ravishment better and he gave a sharp cry of pleasure at the touch. Falling into the same, pounding rhythm, he pressed forward into Klaus's palm and then pushed back as hard as he could, impaling himself on the long, thick cock behind him. Golden cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed and breaths coming in panting whimpers.

"Faster... ah, *deeper*..."

Goading the man on, though, didn't get *more* reaction -- the hard steady pace stayed the same. Klaus leaned down over Dorian's straining back, and roughly kissed the back of his captives neck. Dorian felt another strong tug at his cock. Klaus tensed; a moment later, a hot splash of semen pulsed into Dorian's body.

The thief yelled, the force of Klaus's release sending him spiraling out of control and into a long, deeply satisfying orgasm. He coated Klaus's hand, giving a long throaty whimper with every spasm of pleasure until he was drained and lay on the wet sheets, panting.

He'd just been fucked by Iron Klaus, and felt exhausted, pleasured, unmoving when his possessor pulled out of him. The kisses at the back of his neck didn't stop, though, and he could feel Klaus breath evening out against his skin. "Beautiful."

"That was worth waiting for," Dorian whispered, more to himself than to Klaus. His lips curled in a sensuous smile against the pillow and he lay there for a long moment, savoring the sweetly abused feeling in his ass. /Just as good as I imagined he'd be... no, *better*.../

Klaus didn't seem to be done with him, though -- not from the way that he shifted his weight so he balanced himself on one elbow, still over Dorian's back, while the other hand slid along Dorian's back to squeeze his bottom firmly. "Yes, it was."

Another smile and Dorian purred, "I didn't realize you were waiting for anything, Major..."

The German nuzzled through his heavy curls to place a kiss at the nape of his neck. "A safe way to be with you."

"I don't think I know what you mean by that," Dorian said, closing his eyes at the touch of Klaus's lips. "What do you mean by safe?"

"You can't be arrested, I can't loose my job, the soviets won't go after you, you can't turn against me," he said, lifting his head for a moment to be heard better, before he returned to the enjoyable motion of kissing Dorian's neck and back.

"Mmm... I wouldn't let myself be arrested," Dorian countered, though he looked as if he were about to melt all over Klaus's sheets. "They would never fire you, Mischa and his gang are incompetents, and I'd would have had no reason to turn against you... Besides, are you really telling me that the entire reason you're holding me here is so that you can fuck me in peace?"

"It's safer this way," he insisted, sighing warmly against Dorian's warm skin. "This is how I want you."

The words made Dorian's heart race. "So you want me as a sex slave?" he asked in a breathy voice. "Always here... whenever you're horny?"

Teeth scraped at the base of his neck, gentle and made to arouse. "Always here. Always -- for everything."

It sent a shudder through the blond man, the thought of it, still partly terrifying, but now also strangely thrilling. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you... having that much control..."

"Having you as mine," Klaus stressed, dipping his body down to press with knowing force against the length of Dorian's body. "Mine."

Dorian sighed, his fists tightening around the sheets. He could feel himself hardening again, just from the weight of the lean muscular body above him. Almost unconsciously his legs were opening, his back arching up to rub his body against the German.

/If this is what being owned is like.../ If that was what it was like, it would be easier than he'd thought to give in. "Are you mine, Dorian?" Another press, and Klaus slid a knee between Dorian's parting legs.

"Ah! I... oh..." There was a part of the Englishman still wanting to fight, but it was hard to listen to it with the clamor from his body, growing each time Klaus pressed close against him. He felt that knee graze his balls and couldn't help but cry out.

"Are you mine?" Klaus repeated it, clearly wanting to hear the words from Dorian's own lips. He was smiling to himself, almost viciously, as he lowered his head to kiss again. "I want you to be mine in everything."

Dorian lifted his hips again, felt Klaus's leg against his now-throbbing shaft. To have this... to know the man wanted him, to know he'd be fucked as well as he'd just been fucked... His hormones were screaming at him - was freedom so important? Wasn't this so *very* much better...?

"Yes!" he cried softly, feeling more need and desire than he'd ever felt in his life. "Yes, I'm *yours*... only yours..."

"Turn over," that rich voice whispered in his ear, "so I can see your face again."

Slowly, Dorian obeyed, looking up into Klaus's face, his breath coming hard. The German seemed more beautiful than ever, so close to him, eyes gone intensely green.

And the look on his face! Dorian had longed to be the object of just such a look, had all but given up on the possibility, but now...

"Major..." he whispered.

Now Klaus' expression was intense, if still wild at the edges, and that intensity of expression grew when he lowered his head to take a kiss. "Tell me, pet, what you want to do today."

"I... I want to be with you... I want you to fuck me again, as many times as you can..." Dorian tried to keep those lips on his, but they were teasing, only lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. It made him feel a little frantic.

"I want to take a bath with you..." They were both sweaty, breathing hard and sticky, weren't they?

"A bath, or a shower?" Klaus asked him, moving to drag his lips along Dorian's narrow jaw.

"Uhhhn... it... it doesn't really... matter, all that much..." Dorian's eyes had closed, his body arching upwards to press against Klaus. "As long as we're wet... and naked..."

"I want to fuck you in the shower, Dorian -- that beautiful hair of yours, hanging off of you wet... When I tossed you into the water in Rome, it was all I could think of." Klaus pressed back down against him, rubbing a little.

"Ohhh... yes, *please*!" Dorian whimpered, pressing his hips upwards. "I want it again, *now*!"

Klaus pulled back though, and stood up, with one hand offered to Dorian. "Come along, then."

The thief was eager, taking Klaus's hand and admiring his backside all the way to the adjoining bath. "You're such a work of art," he breathed, letting his eyes travel over sleek flanks and rounded buttocks. "Better than David..."

"But you can't steal me," Klaus told him, closing the bathroom door behind them. "Start the water, set it to where you like the temperature."

"All right," Dorian murmured, turning on the tap and adjusting the handles until the water was steaming hot. "There... that's nice..."

"Now, step in get yourself nice and wet before I get in, too." He'd close the glass door once he was in, too, sealing them into an even-closer heat and privacy.

The sooner he obeyed, the sooner he'd be back in Klaus's arms, so Dorian stepped in quickly and stood under the hot spray of the shower, drenching himself in a few seconds. He scooped the hair back from his eyes and blinked a few times, then smiled seductively at Klaus and murmured, "All wet..."

"Perfect. You're good at that," he complimented, stepping smoothly into the stall and pulling the door closed behind him. Klaus was hard again, achingly so -- so many chances to indulge a long ignored want!

Dorian's eyes slid down the the straining erection, just inches from his own. "You need to be wet, too," he murmured, cupping his hands under the spray and then pouring the water he'd collected along the stiff cock.

"Just my cock, pet?" Klaus purred in warm amusement, setting the bottle of soap on the narrow ledge.

"No," Dorian said, eyes still on it, "only it seems to be demanding my attention..." He let a hand trail over it and then began to cover Klaus with hot water. With every scoop, his hands lingered on the planes and hollows of the German's well-sculpted chest and belly, fingertips grazing over nipples and nails scratching lightly down Klaus's back.

Pressing a soft kiss to one of the man's shoulders he whispered, "Stunning... just... so lovely..."

Every touch got the reaction of a shaking sighed breath, Klaus moving into his touches. "Why do you think so, pet?"

"All this muscle... and so sleek and powerful," Dorian breathed, worshipping the man with eyes and hands. "You're like a panther, ready to spring..."

"Does that mean you think I'm playing with my prey now...?" Klaus asked him, seriously, that odd glint sparking in his eyes as he tangled a hand into wet locks of gold, to pull Dorian near for a fierce kiss.

The act made Dorian's shaft twitch violently and he moaned softly in the other man's mouth. He'd been roughed over by Klaus before, but never had there been any hint of sexuality behind it. Now, though, the eroticism was almost palpable, making Dorian's heart pound... making him want to surrender.

"Yes," he managed to say, lips moving against Klaus's. "Oh, *yes.*"

"And when I'm tired of playing, Dorian, with my prey, what do you think I'll do?" Klaus asked, leaning near to him to kiss at his collar-bone now. "Do you fear you'll be eaten?"

Letting his head fall back a little, Dorian murmured, "Oh, I *hope* so..."

"Where do you want to be eaten, pet?

"Mmmm... anywhere, *everywhere*..." Dorian's hands came up and grasped their two shafts, pressing them together. "*Here*..."

Klaus' lean body fairly roiled up against his, a fluid arch of motion that put them both under the water's hot spray, setting down thoroughly Klaus' black hair. "You feel perfect."

"Ohhh... so do *you*..." Dorian whispered, continuing to stroke their cocks as one. He pressed a kiss to the man's exposed throat and murmured, "You make me want it so *badly.*"

A shuddering gasp left Klaus, and he pressed closer again, so that Dorian' back was almost against the wall. "What's 'it', Dorian?"

Another kiss, and more, Dorian nipping and suckling at the wet skin of Klaus's throat. "You... inside me," he whispered. "Pounding into me... making me know I'm yours."

"Just mine," he agreed, winding his arms around the man to put Dorian's back against the side of the shower-stall so he could be pressed hard against it. "You'd make a beautiful painting, with your legs spread a little more."

The Englishman felt the blood rush to his cheeks and his breath came faster as he opened his legs, tugging smoothly at the shafts in his hand. "I don't want to be a painting," he said, "because then I couldn't touch you like this."

"Move your hand -- put both your hands on my back, Dorian," he was instructed smoothly, letting his own hands drag down against Dorian's hips and then back to pry apart the man's buttocks. "You're right. You're better this way."

More color in his cheeks - to be probed that way! - but his hands slid upwards to rest lightly against Klaus's back, his eyes straying to the other man's mouth. It looked so inviting and he yearned to kiss it, but he held back, wondering if that was what Klaus wanted him to do...

"You should put that sweet mouth to use," came the gentle suggestion that was paired with a finger slipping up inside of Dorian's hot clench.

"Aaah! Yes..." Dorian gasped, leaning forward to cover Klaus's throat with soft kisses. It was terribly erotic, feeling that finger probing him and tasting the warm, wet skin as the water flowed over it. He gave a soft huff of pleasure and pushed back against his impalement.

"You really like that, don't you? You really like being someone's object to use," Klaus murmured, pulling Dorian's hips roughly forwards against his own, so that now Dorian could hitch his hips against muscle and bone, and back to the teasing finger. "Mine."

Long fingers tightened around Klaus's back as Dorian shivered. /Surely I don't! I don't *like* being debased. It's just.../ "Uhhn - it feels so *good*!" he said in a soft cry, pressing backwards onto Klaus's finger.

"Just this....?" Klaus asked, wriggling that finger within his lover's clench, "or all of it?"

Small shudders of pleasure were coursing through the blond man. Every movement of Klaus's fingers seemed to rub against his prostate and he could feel his erection twitching violently against the other man's belly. "Ahhh - all of it!" he finally whimpered. "Oh, I want *you*, damn it!"

"You're not going to run away from me, will you Dorian?" Klaus asked, pressing a kiss against the edge of his lips. "You'd break my heart."

In his sex-induced haze, Dorian found himself thinking that he'd never considered that possibility. First there was the question of whether Klaus *had* a heart to break, and then there was the dicier question of whether Dorian himself mattered enough to be capable of breaking it.

At the moment he was positively thrilled that the answer to both seemed to be 'yes.'

"I wouldn't," he panted, arching backwards again. "I swear..."

The terrible teasing finger slid free, but it was only to come back after Klaus fumbled open the bottle of body wash, and slicked his finger with it; then it was two that invaded him, with the same steady stroking as before. "Then I'll make you happy and keep you safe, my pet... mine, my love, safe..." Klaus kissed him again, cutting off his own words.

Dorian let himself sink into the kiss and then, coming up from it breathless, asked Klaus, "And how do you propose to keep me happy, Major?"

The two fingers pressed over his prostate, as if demonstrating. "By keeping you busy and giving you what you want."

"I know what I want," Dorian panted, giving a small groan at the mauling Klaus was giving him, "but how do you propose to keep me busy?"

"I'll think of ways," he was told, as Klaus moved them both back under the hot water, pulling his fingers free. "For now, I want your beautiful body again..."

"Oh, *please,*" Dorian murmured. He wanted what he'd had in bed with the German man. It felt like an addiction and was being eaten alive with raw need. Sex had always been pleasurable, he thought, but it had never been *anything* like this...

It had never threatened to swallow him whole, never possessed him so completely as Klaus' touch. And even as he realized that, Klaus was turning him around again, pressing his front against the tiles, hands grasping at his hips.

The shock of the cold walls made the Englishman shudder, but he leaned forward eagerly, almost desperate to feel that thick shaft inside him again. It nudged against his entrance, slicked with body wash, and Klaus pressed firmly against the back of his body, almost surging against him. "You feel perfect."

The firm thrust sent a long, low moan out of Dorian and he arched his back until Klaus was was flat against him. "Oh, so big... so *deep*..."

"Tell me... how it feels," Klaus demanded of the earl as he pressed further, as if he could sink in any deeper.

"Feels... uhhhn... feels like you're claiming ownership of me," Dorian whispered, his cheek pressed against the cool tiles. "Marking me... as yours..."

A hand reached up to twist the shower-head so that it sprayed down directly at them. "Good. I am. You are, mine." A slow pulse of his hips outwards, before he drove in again, sinking into Dorian's quivering heated body.

The thief gave a sharp gasp at the invasion. He seemed to be made to take Klaus's thrusts and they made him dizzy with pleasure. Suddenly, he could imagine himself be taken like this everyday, giving himself up to the man inside of him and loving it. The sex was too good, too erotic, to want anything else and he saw a lifetime of days stretching out, each one devoted to fucking - to giving Klaus pleasure and getting ecstasy in return.

Suddenly, being a pet sounded perfect.

Wet hair was moved out of he way, pushed over Dorian's shoulder, and Klaus leaned in again, breathing heavily against Dorian's neck as he kissed and nipped skin wet with the water still pounding down on them.

"I can't... can't last," Dorian panted, feeling his entire body tensing. He wanted oblivion, to simply fly into a million pieces and dissolve into Klaus's very blood. The thought of what was being done to him made him moan, his fists curled against the wall and golden hair dripping. "Too much... ah, *Major*!"

This was what Klaus had wanted from the start - subservience. He'd wanted submission. He'd wanted to hear Dorian moan pleas at him, wanted to over-run the blonde man entirely! And now... now he was doing that, and the knowledge only made him harder, only made Klaus push into his toy with more force. "Yes!"

Giving a scream of pleasure, Dorian came, hard and fast, his entire body shaking with the spasms. The intensity was so great his vision became blurred and fuzzy; for a moment he felt sure he would drop where he stood. But Klaus hands on his hips, and one sliding around his waist from behind kept him on his feet. Klaus stilled after one last snap forwards of his hips, spilling deep inside of his captive.

It had ended too fast, but Klaus wasn't going to loose the pleasure of the moment just because of that. He was going to soak in these feelings that clutched at him. The world was Eroica free now, and he hadn't had to kill the man Dorian was safe, and Dorian was his. Eroica was no more, and he could have Dorian for all that he wanted...

"Lean back on me, pet," Klaus uttered in a low-pitched voice, pulling out of Dorian's body and pulling Dorian away from the wall, still held in his arms.

The blond man whimpered at the strange emptiness, his hands moving backward to slide over Klaus's hips. "So good..." he whispered. "I want it forever..."

"Stay with me, Dorian, and I can give you forever -- stay with me..." Klaus soaped one hand, and began to clean Dorian, lathering as best he could as he backed them out of the pounding spray for a moment. This, too, was good, a chance to explore and tantalize Dorian's body, a less intense pleasure. "You're perfect for me, Dorian. No more Eroica..."

"Why... why did you dislike him so much?" Dorian murmured, his hazy mind not even registering the fact that he was talking about his thief persona in the past tense.

"He was dangerous and uncaring of others -- he used his men without realizing it," Klaus told him, nuzzling at Dorian's ear with intensity as he slid one soapy hand down over Dorian's genitals. "He was everything wrong in the world -- greedy, indecisive, manipulative..."

"But he never meant any harm... and he loved you so much..."

"He did harm -- it doesn't matter if he didn't mean it." Harsh breathed words in his ear, as that gentle, meticulous cleaning went on, finding new spots on Dorian's body that drew reactions. "You still love me. I need you, not him."

"I *do* love you..." the Englishman sighed, writhing and arching under the man's touch. "Loved you for so long..."

"You're loyal, and you do what you should. He doesn't listen, and he doesn't do what he should do..." He pressed his face against wet golden blonde hair for a moment, sighing deeply before he moved Dorian back under the spray to rinse his soapy front off. "Ahhh, I've wanted you for so long."

Dorian shook his head under the torrent of water and then leaned back out of it. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked softly.

"It wasn't safe before. Now, turn around, pet, so I can finish cleaning you." Arms holding him close loosened just for that task, waiting for Dorian to turn and face him. Safe. Klaus was so concerned with it all being *safe*, that Dorian was *safe*, and his.

When he did, their eyes met - a deep, searching gaze that almost *hurt* it was so intense. "Will you take care of me?" Dorian whispered. "If I let him go, will you always be there?"

"Sometimes I have missions, but I'll always come back to you," Klaus promised, kissing one water-damp cheek. "I'll take good care of you, Dorian. I'll take good care of you."

The insanity of it didn't matter anymore. He'd glimpsed a sexual paradise and all it required for entrance was his very heart and soul. A part of Dorian that was still rational told itself that he'd wanted Klaus too much to give him up and that this was the only way he'd ever have him.

/If the insane becomes the desired, is it so bad to join the insanity...?/

Klaus wouldn't let him go -- why strain to be separate from him, and be in misery, when the promise of paradise was so close...?

"And you'll stay with me. I need you, I want to keep you, so I'll make sure you're happy here, with me -- just you and I, Dorian..." Together, doing things that would please them both, learning together.

Smiling at the man for the first time in weeks, Dorian let himself slip beneath the surface and finally let go.

"I'll be yours for eternity, sweet Major. Only yours..."

The gentle smile was caught in a kiss, Klaus pulling him closer still for a moment. The damp slide of lip against lip, tongue slipping into welcoming warmth... when he broke the kiss at last, it was only so he could work better on cleaning Dorian's back, and the last traces of their shared passion. "Anything you want, pet, is yours..."

"Just you," Dorian said, his eyes taking on a dreamy cast. "Just you..."

Newly soapy hands slid down along his spine, up and down, delving between his buttock and then up again, the backs of his legs. "And you're happy with that?"

"Yes... now I know how well you'll take care of me... I'm happy." His own hands came up to caress Klaus's shoulders and chest. Fingertips tracing the lines with unerring delicacy. "My master..."

"I like the sound of that better... than 'major', pet," Klaus murmured. "Your master now, yes Pet. Dorian. Mine. Your master now... the Major at work, and your master at home. Now, back under the water and rinse."

Dorian obeyed, leaning back into the steaming spray. The new creature that he was becoming saw care behind the orders, and pleasure in obedience.

He smiled again, a rich, decadent thing, golden and dazzling.

It was enough to solidify to Klaus that he had made the right decision that it hadn't been a bad choice, and that Dorian had started to enjoy himself once he relaxed into it. Perfect, and perfectly Dorian still, just the way he wanted his pet to be. Carefully, he slid open the showers door, and turned off the water, stepped out of it with Dorian. "Clean enough now?"

"Mmmm... *very* clean," the blond man purred, allowing Klaus to lead him out of the stall.

The acquiescent tone of his voice gained him a slow kiss from the German man. "Let's see how long things will stay that way," Dorian was told, a promise of things *not* remaining so for long.


A week, he'd said.

Dorian had been able to enjoy three months with Klaus, in the early early mornings and when he came back to the schloss in the afternoons and evenings. Weekends were entirely theirs together, and it was more than just the sex that had driven him to stay at first -- Klaus was less bull-headed than before, pleasant company to Dorian. His edginess had relaxed with Dorian's resolve to stay his, though when the Earl had disobeyed him a few times, merely on whims...

The beating he'd gotten had been the most arousingly done thing he'd ever felt. It had left Dorian wondering, in the aftermath of the pain and the comfort that had followed, if he should be just a little bad more often.

And then, Klaus had had to leave him for a whole week! And then a week had turned into two, and he was getting terribly lonely in the schloss, even with the servants that kept him on the grounds, and pampered to a degree. It wasn't Klaus!

The separation had been just as hard on master as on pet; a highly intense, skin of the teeth mission that had nearly cost him his life, and *had* cost him his beloved car.

That was why it was an office car that rolled into the drive, with Agent A, B and Z in the car with Klaus. He was doing a good job of masking his eagerness to *be* home with his usual eagerness to be back in Germany, the homeland. The cast that cradled his left arm was supposed by a sling, and in the tired fingers he held a small bag -- something he'd picked up for Dorian, on a whim, when he'd been just released from outpatient and waiting to be picked up.

Dorian discreetly watched, naked and breathless, through a curtain in an upstairs window. His heart had begun to race when the car pulled into the drive, but when he saw Klaus's cast a shiver ran through him, though the room was comfortably warm.

"Go *away*," he muttered as if the other agents could hear him. "*I* want him now!"

Two weeks, and they dared to come back with Klaus! To steal away any more of Dorian's time with him! Oh, the nerve it had to have taken for them to do it...

The car came to a halt, and when Klaus got out of the car, he paused for a moment to survey the front of the building, eyes meeting Dorian's for a brief moment. He spared the shadow a crinkle of a smile, that made A uneasy to see his superior smiling that way at nothing at all.

"Glad to be home, yes sir?" he asked, trying to get the man's attention. "We all know how you love the Schloss." /Though smiling at it like it was a person is something I've never seen you do.../

"I'm very glad to be home, Agent A," Klaus uttered, starting up the steps of the front entrance. Z started to follow, looking at A for a backup on that motion. B was worthless for aid, and always had been in moments that took spine.

"Yes," A said decisively. "I've got the doctor's instructions - why don't we just give those to your butler and then we'll go and let you enjoy some peace and quiet."

"It's a broken arm," Klaus told them, "Not major surgery -- you don't think I can't remember the instructions myself?"

Z was quick to cover what could have been fast rising anger if they let it. "Sir, it'll make your life a little more efficient if your staff know what you need to accomplish!"

"And it will no doubt heal faster if your man has the exact instructions," A added. "We'll be *very* brief, sir."

He looked at them both, and B remaining by the car, and nodded once. "Come in, then." The door was opened by that very butler, and the old man stepped aside to let Klaus enter first.

"Welcome home, sir," the butler said, bowing a bit. He ushered them all in, eyes lingering on the agents with a degree of uncertainty. *He* knew what the Major kept upstairs, and was the man risking exposure of that?

"It's good to be home," Klaus said, nodding once. "I'm going to go upstairs and change -- A, Z, you can give him what my doctor said, and then head back to the home-office."

"You *will* get some rest sir?" A ventured, not wanting to leave before being assured that Klaus would take some time off for recuperation.

Klaus was already moving towards the front hall, pausing only long enough to turn around and look at A. "Yes, I'll rest -- I'm not allowed to go back to the office for another week because of my fucking arm, what else would I be doing?"

A turned slightly pink and said quickly, "Knowing you sir, getting your best firearms out and practicing your shooting - or some other bit of training. We all know how you like to work, sir - always improving yourself." He looked to Z for support.

"But you don't want to possibly fracture your arm elsewhere, or put yourself at that risk of weakness," Z almost pleaded. "At least three of four days of not practicing, sir."

"I'll just rest!" he snapped.

Upstairs, Dorian had had enough of waiting. He needed Klaus, ached for him, and was damn well going to have him!

Wrapping himself in a fur, that covered the middle third of his body, he peeked out into the hall and then padded silently to the top of the stairs.

"Master are you home? I need you so *badly,*" he called.

"Master...?" Z half-mouthed, half whispered as he looked towards the British voice that had called that out, at the same time Klaus did. The other man seemed to startle, but played it off well, moving towards the stairs calmly.

"I'm home! I have a gift for you, too -- why don;'t you take it into our room and open it, hmn, pet?"

Dorian walked down the stairs slowly, fur only barely making him decent. He had eyes only for Klaus, almost as if he didn't know the others were there, and he had a soft, seductive smile that was obviously *only* for the Major.

"Won't you come upstairs with me?" he said in a breathy voice, eyes drifting over Klaus's body. "I need a fuck *so* badly!"

It was enough to break Klaus' remembrance of his agents presence completely. "I've missed you, pet," Klaus sighed, starting up the stairs. "Two weeks too long, now... Z, A, go back to the office, do you understand me?"

A was watching it all with astonishment, his mouth dropped open, eyes bulging. Eroica? Here? And... surely he hadn't said... "Isn't the Earl wanted by Interpol?"

"What, A?" Klaus pivoted half-way up the first flight of broad stairs, while he slid an arm around Dorian's waist. "Theres no need to have them look he won't do any harm, or steal anything else where he is now..."

Dorian let the fur fall to the ground at the first touch of Klaus's hand on him, revealing a prominent erection which he pressed against the Major's flank. Covering the man's cheek and neck with kisses, his own hand strayed to the German's crotch, where he gave a firm squeeze and a long, soft moan of desire.

"S-sir!!!" Z's tone was twice as shocked as A's had been, as he watched Klaus arch, and then bat back that hand for a moment.

"*What*?" he demanded, looking at them both with a hard gaze. He just wanted his pet's company, what was wrong with them?!

"Make them go away," Dorian whispered in a soft, pleading voice. "I can't *wait*..."

"L-Lord Gloria?" A said in a shocked voice. "Sir, did you know that everyone believes you to be dead?"

Dorian ignored him completely and pressed himself against Klaus again.

"I think it's time for you to go back to the office," Klaus told them both in a firm voice, eyeing A in particular, though -- Z was frozen in near drop-jawed shock.

"S-Sir... shouldn't we let his people know that he's still alive?" A asked, shivering at the look in Klaus's eyes. It was *wrong* somehow... strangely off.

There was a darkness where it shouldn't have been, an empty light, a sharpness... a sharpness that scared A to see in his superior's eyes. The sharpness was only worse when he looked at more than Klaus face how the Major had his unbroken arm snugly around Dorian's waist, how the earl was *nude* and begging for sex...

That Klaus didn't even seem fazed by it was worse yet.

"Nein. Its none of their business."

A looked helplessly at Z, looking for guidance as to what they should do. Z was a lot like Klaus - the he seemed to understand their superior, better than any of the other agents in the Alphabet did, including himself. The scene before them was ridiculous in it's improbability and yet, maddeningly, there it was!

Two former allies, further allying themselves, in a way that seemed... off. Z had no idea what to do. He couldn't shoot either of them...

"Well, sir, have a good week," Z said gently, starting to back away. He was going to call the office once they were back outside, he was going to tell the chief, and get this officially looked at.

"Yes, sir... a good week," A said in a faint voice and hurriedly followed Z out the door.

Once out of the schloss, A took Z by the arm. "What the hell *was* that??" he asked, his voice trembling. "Eroica... like a lap dog... and the Major *enjoying* it!"

"I couldn't tell you what he bought when he was waiting for us to pick him up on -- but it's a collar," Z said in a strained voice, still quiet. "Lap-dogs don't h... hump their master's leg like that, A."

A looked positively white. "What... what are you suggesting?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Z looked at the pavement beneath his feet, and then the dark drive when the moved onto it. "But we both just saw Lord Gloria -- who we all though was dead -- nude in the Major's house. Worse than just... nude."

"Why on earth would the Major buy the man a *collar*?" A said as he opened the car door.

"Why on earth would the major hug *Eroica* and let him *publicly* grope him?!!!!"

B's head snapped up as the threads of conversation hit him. "WHAT?!!!"

A started the car, and sat for a moment with his hands clutching the steering wheel. "We saw the Earl of Gloria in there," he said grimly to B, "and he was... he was..." He looked to Z to explain things.

"He was nude, which wasn't very much of a shock, and rubbing against the major."

Sitting in the back, B grimaced. "The major didn't kill him, did he?"

"No," A said, looking into the rear view mirror. "That's what bothered us..."

"So... So, they're finally sleeping together?" B asked with almost relief in his voice. "At least the Major won't be a suspect for his disappearance any longer."

A looked nervously over at Z. "I wouldn't be too sure about that..." he muttered under his breath.

He... he bought a collar while he as waiting for us to pick him up," Z said shakily. "Told Lord Gloria it was a gift for him..."

"And the Earl called him... 'Master,'" A added as they left the long, gravel drive.

"MASTER?!!!" B blinked once, and then again, and swallowed. "So... so they're fucked up kinky. So?"

"*So*?" A said to him, staring disbelievingly into the mirror at the man in the back seat. "You don't find this a bit *uncharacteristic* of him? Or maybe you've known something that I haven't all these years."

B just shook his head intensely. "A, the Major's been showing every sign to us that's he's lost his mind! And he's always been obsessed with Lord Gloria."

"Yes - obsessed with *killing* the man! Not... not doing what I saw them about to do in there!" He gave a small shudder, remembering the strange look in Klaus's eyes.

Z broke his uneasy silence to break in, "We need to tell the chief."

"I agree," A said immediately. "At the very least he's become a huge security risk! I mean, can you imagine the blackmail possibilities..."

"I'd worry less about that, and more about what he's capable of, A," B reminded.

"He's still the Major." Z was reminding, too, wary of the idea that he was reporting on his superior officer.

"Capable of?" A said nervously. "What do you mean by that?"

"He's strong. He's brilliant. He... he's unbalanced."

"And what do you think that means? You think he might go funny on us during a mission? Become dangerous?"

The taller agent looked over to A with a sad expression. "Yes."

"Damn..." A muttered, staring at the road ahead of him. "What do you think the Chief will do?"

"Hopefully... not just begin dismissal proceedings. The major..." Z's lips thinned for a moment. "He's made for the military -- made to kill and hurt, and carry out missions. If he wanted to... kill someone, there wouldn't be proof at all that he did it."

A turned to look at Z for a moment, astonished. "What are you saying? You think he's going to kill someone?"

"Maybe Lord Gloria... maybe one of us, if he was just dismissed from duty," B suggested.

"I hadn't thought of that," A murmured. "Do you think we should try to get Lord Gloria away from the Schloss?"

"If he'd come," Z said. "And get the Major into an institution somewhere. He's breaking from reality."

"God..." A muttered again. "He'll be devastated without NATO, won't he?"

"I'd rather not think about it," B nearly whimpered, while Z just nodded for the moment.

A hard fact to face, but from what they saw in there, Klaus needed help."Perhaps without Lord Gloria, too."

"Yes, I hate to say it, but it all seemed to start going down hill when the Major met that man. I think he might have been a very bad influence..."


"My sweet, sweet pet. Sleep well." Klaus pulled back from the bed, brushing a kiss over his drowsy companion's forehead. The sex... even *with* a broken arm, they'd more than made up for two weeks apart. Now Dorian would slip away, and he would follow soon. But he'd cling to consciousness for as long as he could manage it, just to look over his property through the window, and his property within the room. Golden hair, the creamy skin, those piercing eyes...

All his.

"Mmm... my Master," the blond man murmured, closing his eyes. His mouth was bruised, his ass burned, and all was right with the world. "When I wake up, I'll sit at your feet and worship you..."

"I'd rather you curled in my lap," Klaus mused seriously, though he couldn't help but give a small, sad smile. "I've missed holding you."

"Oh, and I've missing being held by my Master..." came the last cat-like purr of his voice as Dorian drifted off.

Klaus perched on the edge of the bed again, leaning back just a little so he could stroke his fingers through Dorian's hair. Beautiful, golden, his treasure to come home to, to always have, when he finished with duty. No one else's, and he would be no one else's. Greyed eyes watched as the steady breathing slowed. Hitched, for a moment, on one last in-drawn gasp. Dorian's chest fell, but did not rise again.

Their wine had been shared between them, drank from the same goblet, passed from mouth to mouth in laughed kisses. Now the fine crystal goblet sat empty upon the bedside stand, bereft of the self-tainted Mosel.

No one would ever take Dorian from him.

No one.

He barely heard his own whisper of words as he laid down beside his beautiful pet, curled up against his side. And he certainly didn't hear the sirens when they pulled up the front drive.

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