The only way to accomplish what Dorian had in mind to gradually acclimate Klaus to the idea. To be sure, he'd already agreed to go, but a promise given lightly months before and half a continent away was quite different from actually descending into London's lively gay nightlife.

It had begun innocuously enough, a pair of leather pants for Klaus' birthday. Then, piece by slow piece, Dorian had assembled a workable outfit for his lover, things that suited Klaus' stern attitude as well as his lovely rock-hard body. During outings he often chose routes that took them through the heart of the district, full of hot neon and smoke and throbbing music spilling from open club doors. And people, all the entire spectrum of the homosexual male species, from graceful, cherubic boys to hardened men capable of giving Klaus a good run for his money in a fair fight. From the safety of a moving vehicle Dorian might drop the occasional comment, watch closely Klaus' reaction, and be stunned at the odd question posed in return.

Interest was there, outweighing the disgust and embarrassment in Klaus, and it was on one sharply cold winter night that Dorian finally deemed his lover acclimated enough to take into the scene.

It wasn't that they'd never done clubs before -- they had, but the closest Klaus had gotten to a 'gay' club was a liberal, but still mostly straight one. Which was still not a bad accomplishment for a man who wasn't much of a club person in general, or a sociable person.

There was still, of course, the question of how to broach the idea to Klaus on the very day that they'd agreed to go out and do things -- because the day after they'd be on an air-plane to Schloss Eberbach.

Guilt might work best in this instance, if Dorian could only manage to use the right amount. For the next week or so he and Klaus would be attending the Eberbach family gathering. Klaus would be playing host, and he playing inconspicuous, and it would be a tiring and nerve-wracking affair all around. So, any bit of fun Dorian proposed before they left might be accepted on guilt alone.

And clubbing would be a nice way to let loose before a week of being proper and polite.

THAT sort of club in particular would be letting very loose before being proper. Klaus danced wonderfully, both ball-room and a bit of street, but it was high time to teach him some of the more erotic types...

So when Dorian searched out his lover in the London apartment Dorian had held for years, and caught him working on that piece of music of his, again, he realised that the man was a eager for something to do as he was.

As soon as Dorian had realised that Klaus would be spending any amount of time in the London townhouse, he'd outfitted it with a piano. A small trouble for the pleasure of Klaus playing for him occasionally, the sound of piano music at once familiar and soothing. Peering around the corner, the thief snuck over to the instrument and leaned provocatively against its polished wood side.

"Darling...?"

"Mmm?" The German man looked up, lifting his fingers at once from the keys at the sound of someone coming. James had come by not more than twenty minutes ago, and slammed the key-cover down on his fingers. That had ensued in a chase around the apartment and when he'd lost the accountant, he'd returned to the piano. It would take more than a few years to clear up the bad-blood between Dorian's brilliant accountant and his militant lover.

"Da~arling..." Just in case Klaus could have possibly mistaken his pose, he trailed a hand slowly up his thigh, and wet his lips thoroughly for good measure before speaking. At least that would ensure Klaus' attention, if not immediate agreement with what-ever harebrained scheme the thief had concocted. "Remember that you said we could go out tonight?"

"Ja." As if he could remember anything with *that* looking him straight in the eye...

"I've decided where I want to go. Where I want to take you, I mean."

"One and the same -- where?" Klaus asked casually enough, standing up from the piano and picking up his sheaf of papers with him.

Dorian was at his arm in an instant, twining his own around it. "You remember that little club I pointed out the other day, the one with the martini glass on the sign?"

"You want to go there...?"

Blue eyes rolled in exaggeration. "No, I thought I'd just mention it and then suggest we go eat Italian instead."

"But... *there*?"

"Why not?" Dorian was careful to keep his voice nonchalant.

"It's..." There really wasn't a good reason why at all, and Klaus hated that. If he went off on a little rant, he'd end up sounding like his father, which was worse than not having a reason. "Well, I suppose."

Up front Dorian might as well toss everything at the man. It would reduce the number of complaints later, if he did manage to wring agreement from Klaus. "You'll have to change, into something a bit less... conservative."

This was it, then, wasn't it? A field test, so to speak, of his comfort with sexuality in general, let alone gay sexuality. "Those pants, you mean?"

"Yes, Darling." And what a test it would be! Those pants paired with Klaus' body were sure to together draw an inordinate amount of loudly appreciative attention.

"You're going to have to help me, then -- with a shirt to wear..." And his boots, but there was no question that he'd wear his military issue boots, pants tucked into them.

The boots would be perfect, actually, and Dorian had a shirt in mind, a dark turtleneck that was sleek and a little clingy, without being too flashy. After all, flashy was Dorian, and he'd need all the flash he could manage if he was going to garner any looks of his own while at Klaus' side. "Then, it's okay?"

"I'll try it -- I'll be able to tell you afterwards if it's 'okay'." He still detested really flaming sissies, or the ratty little queers who gave the rest of them bad names. Klaus grasped Dorian's hand with the hand that didn't hold papers, and started towards the bedroom with him. "How different will it be from that club we go to in Bonn?"

About as different as their tastes in personal vehicles, Klaus' Benz to Dorian's flashy sports cars, a new one every month. But there was a more gentle way to break that news to Klaus. "Very different, Darling. But don't be alarmed! It's not some cruising club I'm taking you to! The patrons are a mostly settled couples, just looking for some relaxing entertainment." A few drinks, and some dancing, perhaps raunchy, perhaps not. The best was that no one would blink, no matter what affections passed between the two men.

"Do you know these people?" He barely used the handrail at all as he took determined steps up the little stair-well, Dorian still mostly beside him. The only worry would be that someone there would know Dorian, and place who *he* was out of association... And he wasn't yet ready to be well-known as the lover of the Earl of Gloria. Or to have the Earl of Gloria known as the lover of the future Count Eberbach.

"Know? Know, as in, are these the sorts of people I would invite back to the manor for tea? Goodness no!" As Dorian had a persona of thief and Earl, he had another which suited dim, smoke-filled clubs and the activities which generally took place in them. Another name, and mannerisms that made Lord Gloria look conservative in comparison, but it still wasn't enough to make Dorian stand out as anything more interesting than just another pretty face.

"Good. I don't want to be recognised anywhere... yet," Klaus murmured, opening the door to their bedroom. That was a little hard to adjust to, that in every place they stayed, the bedroom wasn't Dorian's bedroom, or his bedroom... it was theirs. Both of them left their marks wherever they went. Klaus had claimed a tiny section of Dorian's spacious and over-decorated -- in Klaus' opinion -- room, and had his guns laid out, suitcase, clothes folded neatly, a book...

"I've never been recognized," Dorian assured. "I may stand out like a torch among candles in polite society, but in the sort of place we're going to, you'll be surprised to find I cause barely a ripple." Klaus, on the other hand... Dorian suspected he would be in for a rare evening, with his date earning more appreciative looks than him.

"My luck, we'll run into Mischa there," Klaus scowled, moving towards his suitcase. "The leather pants?"

"Oh, GOD yes the leather pants!" Moving straight to the closet, Dorian had himself half-lost within it in seconds. "And this shirt." The shirt in question was tossed from the closet, though the thief did not surface. More clothing followed, his own outfit, as he merrily added, "And there's not a chance of running into Mischa. This is *definitely* not his type of club."

"Wouldn't let him in, or he'd be frightened?" Klaus asked with a little amusement in his voice. And trying to not let on that *he* was a bit frightened of the idea. And the sweater Dorian had tossed at him... Somehow it was a sweater and slinky all at once. The colour of military green had obviously been either a compromise of Dorian's personal tastes when he'd bought it, or it was because it 'highlighted his eyes', which Klaus still couldn't see the sense of doing.

He'd never understand what Dorian saw in him.

He would also probably never completely break himself of the habit of changing in the bathroom, though he was making an obvious effort as he put down the sweater, found the pants, and started to unbutton his shirt. There was no way that he could wear an undershirt under a sweater that draped like that.

The thought of Mischa wandering into that club, intentionally or otherwise, dressed in the ankle-length trench coat and boofy fur hat he was so incredibly fond of made Dorian laugh aloud. "Oh, both! Even if he got in, I'd imagine he'd tire of being stared at awfully fast." With Klaus in the bathroom, Dorian changed in the bedroom, not at all against stripping to his underwear and slowly reassembling an outfit. Klaus probably had ten times the modesty his lover did.

At least.

When the German man strode back into the room, it was completely and utterly dressed -- black leather pants that rivalled any of his utilitarian outfits for breaking in, tucked neatly into his boots, the calf-cinch gleaming bright silver from Klaus' immaculate care of it. There was no way those boots could have ever been mistaken for military knock-offs -- they shone every bit as much as Klaus' pants did. And above that -- it was hard for Dorian to stop looking at those pants -- the military green sweater clung to broad shoulders and chest, strong arms, and accented his lover's narrow waist.

"Are you dressed yet?"

Not by half, although Dorian was too busy pulling on one of his favourite shirts while pretending to not-ogle Klaus to answer. It was, appropriately enough, the one Klaus had given him for Christmas the year before. Below he was clad only in underwear, although a pair of white pants that Klaus recognised as indecently tight waited on the bed.

The edges of Klaus' lips twisted up a little as he sat down on the bed for a moment, then moved to the desk to grab his cigarettes. He had to put them into a slender case that Dorian loaned him so they'd fit into his pocket. "That looks nice."

"Oh, I'm not even finished yet," Dorian waved away, reaching for his pants. "You're not supposed to say such things until I am. I already *know* you appreciate me half-dressed, even more when it's half-UNdressed."

"I'm not lying," Klaus smirked a little as he fit six cigarettes into the understated case. A glance over his shoulder, and he let his gaze linger discreetly on Dorian's body. Always, always, lovely looking, always such a temptation.

Which Dorian was quite aware of. The way he wriggled into his too-tight pants said as much, an open invitation for Klaus to act on that temptation later. "Yes, well... I don't even have to tell you that you look outstanding. I'm sure you checked yourself over carefully in the mirror before you left the bathroom." Once, Dorian had caught him studying himself in one such reflective surface, and the thief had never let him live the fact down. But it was a fond jest, all the more because Klaus *did* look amazingly good, and Dorian hoped the man was aware of it.

He still denied it vehemently, and even tried to excuse that incident away as him trying to figure out... well. It had been a poor excuse, because Dorian had seen him grin at himself. Klaus still couldn't bring himself to appreciate more than the fact that he was in better than good health. "I didn't," Klaus denied in a light growl, walking over to Dorian and patting the small of his back. "Done yet?"

"Al- most..." The damned fly was always the hardest part, zipped only after Dorian had sucked in his stomach a good ways. But the end effect... More than worth a little trouble to achieve! "Finished," Dorian motioned, striking a little pose.

"I'm going to punch anyone who touches you," Klaus whispered fondly, pulling Dorian closer to take a brief kiss. He never seemed to notice any looks shot his way then they went out to a club -- but he paid frightening attention to the looks Dorian received.

"Mmn..." It was a gift, the way Dorian could melt himself against Klaus, moulding their bodies together in ways two hard objects coming together shouldít be capable of. "It's a shame we're not going to a rougher club. I might like a couple fights started over me..." But the one they were going to was nicer, and Dorian could expect looks, but no unwarranted groping.

"My split knuckle still needs to heal over from that thug in Naples," Klaus reminded him, brushing the fingers of that hand along Dorian's sleek side. "The Chief was almost giddy to give me time off after that mission."

"It's about time you took a vacation," Dorian's lips murmured, seeking Klaus'. Even if that vacation included more duties, of the familial type this time. In between, there would be stolen moments of pleasure, and Christmas this year would be a particularly memorable one, if the thief had anything to say on the matter.

Klaus could trust Dorian to be discreet until Klaus signalled otherwise to the man -- which he probably never would do, even when he broke to his family... if he broke the news to them at all.

The catch of mouth to mouth was one that still set Klaus' blood on a high heat, exploring Dorian's lips and mouth with the same vigour as he always did, savouring the heat and slickness. The things Dorian could do with that mouth... made him shudder in remembrance, pulling back. "Let's go."

Dorian broke from the kiss more easily, his anticipation of the evening pushing him to locate his keys -- which would not fit into his pants -- and a fluffy light coloured fur coat. "Okay. I'll drive?"

"Yes -- I don't want to know how to get there." Because if -- or, more likely when -- he reached a point of discomfort, he didn't want to have there be a chance that he could leave without Dorian. Once, shocked and a little angered by something Dorian had tried in a club, he'd done just that -- but that had been months before.

Dorian had forgiven him, of course -- after a period of sullen pouting. But the thief *had* been consciously feeling out his lover's limits, and apparently they didn't extend to blatant public groping. It was really no surprise he'd gotten what he had. "Good. It's not far. We'll be on the dance floor within the half hour!"

"Dancing, I hope...?" Klaus asked with an amused curl of his mouth. They were down the stairs quickly, and then out the front door before any of Dorian's minimal staff there could ask where they were going.

Klaus still scared them stiff.

A fact in which Dorian secretly delighted. As soon as his staff had discovered that his latest lover was both a frightening neat freak and a long-term interest -- *the* Uncle NATO -- the state in which his apartment was kept had improved drastically.

"Yes, dancing." Or some vague approximation of dancing, that involved a lot of rhythmic grinding and full-body contact. A thought which made the blonde smirk widely as he eased himself behind the wheel. "You will enjoy this Klaus, as soon as you see the sort of anonymity such an outfit and such a place provide."

"We still have different concepts of what that is, Dorian," Klaus reminded him, sitting down in the passenger seat. Like the car Dorian was driving. Despite not being something outrageously flaming, it was still too attention drawing for Klaus to like.

Which struck Dorian as utterly funny, because at one time Klaus had driven a *tank* after him, which was anything but discreet.

The engine was cranked, Dorian tossing the car indelicately into gear and peeling out of the drive. "Oh, you'll get attention -- a lot of it," he clarified as he drove. "But if it helps, it wonít be for your face."

Comments like that *still* made Klaus' cheeks burn hotly. "Knowing that will make me relax," he drawled dryly, shooting Dorian a half-glare.

Dorian met it with a half-manic smile. "I know. Why do you think I told you?"

"Idiot." That was a half-heartedly launched barb, attended with a tiny smile as Klaus shifted a little. Those pants *clung* uncomfortably in the oddest places; Dorian had fully expected and appreciated that, the German man was sure. "I hope this isn't a place where I'll have to contact the authorities about anything..."

"Klaus!" Dorian was aghast. NATO sanctioned thieving aside, he had the unpleasant hunch that had he ever indulged in anything more annoyingly illegal, his lover would not hesitate to turn him in. "I wouldn't take you to a place like that!"

"Good." He really didn't have to worry about being turned in, though -- Klaus' strange moral codes allowed Dorian to steal antiques, art-work, jewels... because they harmed only the rich, usually people who were pitted against NATO in some manner, more often than not, and had no functionability in the real world.

Much like Dorian himself, were he not also a useful NATO contractor. "Will you relax already about the club?" the blonde sighed in exasperation, taking his hand briefly from the shift to rest it on his lover's thigh. "I thought you'd learned to trust my tastes by now."

"I do trust your tastes -- I just can't trust my reaction to them."

"Which is why I'm driving..."

Sometimes, Dorian let slip flashes of acute insight that were enough to make Klaus cringe uncomfortably, that anyone should know him so well.

"Ja," Klaus agreed a little sullenly, leaning back into the leather of the seat. Caught completely red-handed in that decision, wasn't he? "Ja."

"I trust you, Klaus." That took a little of the sting away, and a brilliant smile flashed at him stole the rest.

It still didn't change that Klaus didn't trust himself entirely. Klaus echoed the smile a little, and then took to looking at the scenery. Well, if one could have scenery on a cloudy day in London. He'd always thought the pollution in Bonn a little excessive, but London had them beat by a long stretch.

Not a good sign. While talking, he hadn't been thinking too heavily about the club. Dorian sped up a little, torn between being anxious to reach their destination quickly and not wanting a speeding ticket. On principle he had nothing against paying one when guilt was clearly evident, but to get one now would have taken even more time than driving within the limit.

He tried mindless chatter, to which Klaus gave terse, half thought out answers. Dorian could, apparently, expect a certain level of tenseness in his date this evening, at least until Klaus had gotten a few stiff drinks in him.

That was what it generally took for Klaus to push his boundaries out a little more. The Major was still repressed, even in the process of having a lover, trying to socialize more...

He stopped looking out the side window and looked down the street ahead of them. There it was, the club that Dorian was intent on him going to. Now if he could just shove down his mood so Dorian could enjoy himself... Because if Dorian could enjoy himself, Klaus usually could follow in the man's wake.

If nothing else, five years spent before they'd become lovers in the company of an often-grouchy Klaus had taught Dorian to enjoy himself no matter what Klaus' mood was. And tonight, he'd see that they both enjoyed themselves or die trying!

"We're here," the blonde offered, unnecessarily and helpfully, pulling up out front and turning the car over to the valet. An extended arm from the man helped Dorian in those tight tight pants gain his feet from the car's low, race-style suspension. It earned him a large tip, and, because Klaus wasn't looking, a quick wink, and Dorian trotted around the other side to meet his lover.

Klaus got out fine on his own, and was trying to pull his own pants down a little when Dorian got to his side. Looking up, the other man sighed heavily, then murmured, reaching for Dorian's hand. "Let's go in."

As a surreptitious assessment of Klaus' expression showed mostly determination and yet no disgust, Dorian nodded happily and led the way inside.

If tacky flashiness could be rendered tasteful through expensive application, the club had managed that very feat. Neon and chrome and glitz were balanced by dark woods and leather and smoke, an odd mixture of playfulness and class.

Klaus still looked like he'd been hit by a truck -- or, as if he were some sort of pet being led tentatively into a new environment. It took him a moment to pretend to not be tense, glancing around the dimly lit place that was filled with other people and loud enough music that he didn't recognise.

Feeling the tenseness in the arm of the man he led, Dorian made straight for the bar.

"Hey," the bar-tender greeted casually, looking first at Klaus, then Dorian. "I think I've see you before -- what can I get the two of you?"

Not the best thing for the man to have said, but it *was* possible, considering that Dorian had visited the club a few times in years past. "Martini," the blonde man chirped up. "And stir the hell out of it. I hate James Bond." If only because every time it came on the television, Klaus bitched about its unrealistic portrayal of intelligence officers.

And from Dorian's experience, Klaus was pretty damn right. But still, it was just a movie -- just Hollywood... But Klaus *hated*, with a passion, the MI6. They were nothing more to him than over-stuffed smiling cut-outs. They didn't do any REAL work like NATO did every single day, risking their lives...

"Cognac."

Affording the almost-familiar pair a second sidelong glance, the bartender went to get their drinks.

Dorian turned with a satisfied smile, leaning his elbows on the high bar. "See? It's not so bad, is it?" Aside from the decor, and the music, and the fact that everywhere Klaus' eyes rested it was the same scene -- men, talking and flirting and dancing.

"No, not so bad," Klaus murmured, sliding his hand free of Dorian's light grasp to instead rest it lightly against the small of Dorian's back. "Is there someplace to sit so I can try to... get used to it?" Meaning to watch, look for anything suspicious, and mentally lower his blood-pressure after thinking fearfully about the place all the way through the car-trip.

"We can grab a table, " /in an inconspicuous corner, with a good view/, "as soon as our drinks come." Heaven help him, but he was accustomed to Klaus' quirks! And worse, the one of resting quietly and casing a place before relaxing was even seeming like a good idea to him, the more missions he ran.

Because he was truly starting to believe that weird things happened when one was least expecting it. Missions popped up where he least expected, problems crept in where things had seemed seamless...

"Cognac is something that doesn't get asked for often around here," the bartender smiled as he came back, a glass in hand for each of them. "You sound foreign -- been in London before?"

Was the man trying to *talk* to him...? Klaus gave him a suspicious glance, then one back to Dorian before answering, "Occasionally." And then began to steer his lover *away* from the bar and a bar-tender that he was waiting to see catch on fire at any moment.

Klaus didn't have to turn, nor Dorian either, to know the man's eyes followed them all the way to a corner booth. "Okay, so the bartender was a little odd," Dorian remarked, sliding in and tipping back a sip of his martini. "But don't be alarmed. I'd imagine that's his all-purpose chatting up the customers line. Probably was hoping for a bigger tip."

" 'Mind your own business' would be appropriate," Klaus muttered, staring at the drink for a moment. What if it had been drugged? What if this was some strange and horribly coincidental trap?

What if he was letting his paranoia get to him because he found being surrounded by so many gay men uncomfortable?

Carefully, he took a sip of the liquor, swallowed, and then looked at Dorian. "Seems to be a quiet place." Except for the music, but that was supposed to be loud. He meant quiet as in 'calm'.

"As I've been trying to tell you." The martini glass Dorian swirled thoughtfully, taking down a gulp the second time he tipped his head back. It wasn't half bad... "As soon as you're finished with your drink and cataloguing suspicious characters and exits alike, would you care to dance?"

"Yes," Klaus decided after a moment's thought. He was being idiotically paranoid, now, and seeing his foolishness so *clearly* actually made him relax. "You said you wanted to show me some things...?"

"A few," his lover admitted with a slow, sly grin. "Ballroom dancing won't do at all for a place like this. But before we tackle the floor, I suggest you watch for a while, to see what other couples are doing." Because no matter how suggestive, Dorian planned to top anything else out there.

A moment of quiet, and then Klaus got up from his side of the booth, and slide into Dorian's, right beside his lover. "Better view from here."

"Better lots of things," the blonde purred, fitting himself happily to Klaus' side. Little concessions Klaus made now and again still surprised him, for all that he knew the man was really trying to acclimate himself to being gay.

Dorian found, too, an arm slid around him to be pulled closer yet, Klaus luxuriating in that. And the two of them doing that was tame in comparison to another couple a few booths away that looked like they were all but having sex in their booth! Klaus was very carefully *not* watching that at all, instead watching the dance floor and some of the things going on there.

Which were, for all intents and purposes, just as bad -- grinding quasi-sex acts that just happened to take place while standing instead of lying down. And Dorian wanted to take him out into that mess and do the same!

But there was something tempting about it, too -- to be able to do that with Dorian, something he knew would make the exhibitionist in Dorian, so very seldom satisfied of late, very happy. And Klaus didn't have to worry about being discovered! This was a little known place in London -- not the clubs they went to in Bonn where he'd once run into a NATO secretary who'd thought he and Dorian were trolling for women together.

"That, Darling." Practically in Klaus' lap now, Dorian pointed to a pair dancing back to chest, the guiding man's hands on his partner's hips pulling them both into a seductive swaying. "Do you think you're brave enough to lead?"

"Which one is leading?" Klaus asked in a low tone of voice, not quite a whisper but close -- it looked like something that would only inflame... Ah, but that was the point of it, he remembered.

Rich, smoky laughter met his ears, Dorian's reply husky and low to match. "The one doing all the handling. I want the chance to rub myself all over you like that..."

"Then lets." Sometimes, an idea struck Klaus as a good one. And this, at least making the attempt to dance with Dorian that way, seemed like a good idea. Just the thought of touching Dorian like that with other people possibly watching them...

He stood smoothly from the booth, letting Dorian out. As long as he kept his courage until he reached the floor, he'd be fine. Once there, he could at least depend on his own pride to keep him there.

He needn't have worried though. Once wringing a promise from Klaus, Dorian was absolutely tenacious in making sure the man lived up to it. The German was half led, half drug onto the floor, Dorian choosing out of kindness an un-crowded spot near the edge.

In the middle of the club the music was loudest if anything, the lights dimmer, and it was warm, the heat from bodies in motion curling through the floor like a tide.

Klaus stood there stiffly for a moment, looking lost and uncomfortable before he made himself take a step towards Dorian. Hands on the man's hips, a tender brush of a kiss against familiar lips, and he was comfortable with Dorian being in his personal space. "Turn around, and let's try this," Klaus murmured against the edge of Dorian's mouth.

The mouth that pressed against Klaus' cheek in return wore a smirk. "Yes, Darling." It was an easy, familiar thing to spin in Klaus' arms, but to only half complete the motion was a little odd. He settled with his back comfortably against his lover's delicious solidity, hands over Klaus' making minute adjustments to their positioning on his hips. "Like this..."

A moment to catch the beat of the music properly in his mind, and Klaus started to guide Dorian in the sensual almost-grind that they'd watched. The fun of it was that little lean forward he made of his head, face buried against Dorian's thick golden curls, nuzzling languidly. "This...?" came the breathy whisper in Dorian's ear.

"Absolutely perfect. I knew you'd be good at this." Throatily purred praise, as Dorian settled perfectly into the rhythm. For several beats he simply absorbed the sensation of his lover's wonderful warmth soaking into his back. Then the odds were raised a notch as he shifted his head, exposing more to Klaus the creamy column of his neck.

A temptation the man had never really been able to resist. Lips pressed there, kissing and biting slowly, in perfect time with the sway of their bodies. Military green eyes slipped closed as he gave in to the feeling of kissing that warm column, of Dorian's hot backside pressed perfectly against his front. "Mmm."

One of Dorian's arms snaked up and around Klaus' neck, pressing in encouragement. "You're enjoying yourself." There was surprisingly little triumph to the utterance, as Dorian's eyes fell half-hooded. He was also enjoying it -- the dance, and the appreciative looks the pair was drawing -- too much to shut his eyes completely.

He got an assentive murmur as Klaus slid one hand from Dorian's hips, palm pressed flat against his lover's flat stomach, still guiding the other man's swaying but taking that chance to feel more of his lover, press him a little closer. The attentions of his mouth didn't stop -- they moved to the edge of Dorian's jaw, the base of his neck, a slow sensual exploring that would leave marks if he kept it up much longer.

Marks Dorian had come to expect from being the recipient of Klaus' affections. He was proud to wear them, and completely uncaring about who saw them or not, although for the sake of Klaus' nerves he would often toss a scarf around his neck to hide what his hair would not, especially if he planned to be in the company of someone acquainted with them both. "Ah, this is *nice*. As always, you feel wonderful against me, Klaus."

"Hmmm..." Another slow shift, as Klaus slid his other hand just minutely down from Dorian's hip, brushing nearer to his lover's groin. This was a dance that couldn't be done at a Christmas ball, oh no...

A little shift of Dorian's now, pulling his hips the tiniest bit out of contact with Klaus' to better press into his hand, the fingers resting precisely in the angle of his pelvis, the thumb brushing his waistband above a firming arousal. Part of the reason he'd worn such tight pants!

A little growl formed in the blonde's throat, but was never released, and he ground back again. "We should do this more often..."

He felt breath huff against his neck, followed by another nip. "Mmm, yes..." The enjoyment of it didn't last forever though -- the music changed, and Klaus lost the beat because it was now so wildly fast-paced. Laughing, he spun Dorian facing him, and clutched him tight for a moment. Yes, this *was* fun! They were... *out* someplace, touching each-other and not getting a single disdainful glance...

Quite the opposite, actually. There were eyes on them, to be sure, but the ones Klaus caught were openly admiring, not embarrassed or displeased in the slightest.

"What now?" his lover asked, taking advantage of that close-held moment to ghost a hand over Klaus' chest, feeling a nipple perking conspicuously behind the clingy fabric. "You're leading, remember?"

Hands slid down from Dorian's' sides to grasp his hips again, sliding a leg between Dorian's. "This...?"

That iron-hard thigh was so tight up against his groin! Blue eyes fluttered wide for a second, then fell nearly closed with the pleasure of it. "Oh, yes..."

The new music had a hard, pumping drum beat as the undercurrent, the type of sound that stirred Klaus' marching-tune trained blood. As if it wasn't already boiling. He managed to pull back enough from Dorian to keep from just giving up the dance and kissing him senseless, and started Dorian on a fast aching grind, then began to move counterpoint.

After the slow throb of the other dance, it was tricky to rouse himself into this new tempo, but Dorian managed the feat admirably, delighting in Klaus' speed and keen sense of rhythm. Beauty, intelligence, and the man could dance! "I'm never letting you go, you know," the blonde confided, in a moment the dance brought them close. "You've completely spoiled me for other men. I can't even bear the thought of looking at another since I've been with you."

No verbal answer from Klaus, only a smile, a brilliant flash of teeth that wasn't that odd vicious one when he was targeting something. This was a victorious one.

That dance and two more followed, variations of things that felt to Klaus very much like simulated sex. His eyes kept shifting from looking at Dorian to closing in concentration on the feelings when they were close together. He'd even left Dorian 'lead' one dance, the last one -- another hard-paced throb that had left his pulse and body doing the same when he dragged Dorian off of the floor. "Let's get another drink, and go back when we're done."

"Need to cool off?" Dorian patted a hand to Klaus' leather-clad rear, trying to disguise how badly he himself was in need of the same. That last dance he'd let his hands roam Klaus freely, coming very near to doing something absolutely inappropriate outside of the bedroom. He'd been flirting with fire, brushing fingers just inside the waistband of Klaus' pants, and had almost given in to the impulse to edge them deeper, deeper...

And with the mood Klaus was in, it was hard to tell if he'd have let him do it, or would have freaked and stormed out after a yelling fit, and sat on the hood of the car until Dorian came out with the keys. Better instead to just touch the pants and not beneath them -- he'd pushed the German man far enough for one evening and the results were just delightful. "Ja. And a drink."

"Shall I go fetch them?" The table they'd been at before had become occupied while they danced, but another close was open, and that's where Klaus was headed.

"Yes -- I'll get the table," Klaus murmured. Dorian knew what he drank, so there was no need to remind him.

The bartender had more odd looks for Dorian as he ordered another round of the same, but this time they seemed to be more for the absence of Klaus than for any familiarity the blonde man might have held. But he held his tongue this time about it, and soon Dorian was threading his way back to the table.

"Scoot, Darling." Dorian squeezed into the same side of the booth as Klaus again, handing over another cognac. "I've decided I like sitting at tables like this. Do you think it would annoy Dominic if we tried it at home?"

"Completely annoy him to no end," Klaus murmured, taking the cognac with a lazy brush of fingers against Dorian's. Then he took a deep sip. "I try to not push him. And you will *not* try it this next week."

"Best behaviour." Not that Klaus really had to be told, but Dorian liked to reassure him. The blonde drew a finger across his heart in a crossing motion. "If I knew any old pirate oaths, I'd swear those too."

"I know you would." Not that it would make it any more assuring for Klaus... He leaned towards Dorian, stealing a kiss where the lingering flavours of each of their drinks mixed.

The kiss was interrupted by a soft voice, quite close. "Second booth against the far wall. Although I'm sure you've already spotted them..." It was the bartender again, this time with a cloth over his arm and bearing a small tray with drinks on it. A new round, un-asked for and delivered with a personal service none of the other patrons were warranting.

He set the drinks on the table, leaning. "I knew I recognised you from somewhere. Wonderful disguises, by the way."

"Disguises? What the hell are you talking about?" Klaus snapped, looking completely bewildered as he broke the delicious kiss with Dorian long before he'd wanted to.

"Ah... Th-they are. So totally convincing, I'm amazed. Especially to see you both dancing." The man looked suddenly nervous, and scooted into the booth across from Dorian and Klaus. "Sorry. I've heard so much about you, from Laurence, that it's as if I've met you. But... I'm surprised NATO involved itself with this investigation. I thought SIS had jurisdiction."

Oh. Fuck.

He could bullshit that NATO *was* involved, and possibly get in trouble if this man backed off of *whatever* it was. Laurence. Well, damn him to hell for even talking about Klaus... The soddy little man had the oddest crush on him. "NATO isn't involved in whatever shit you're talking about."

"B-but... aren't you...?" The man's eyes dashed to the table he'd mentioned before, where a trio of men sat discussing something, their heads closely together in a manner that screamed business and not pleasure. That would have been clue enough that something was odd about them in this club, but they were also dressed more conservatively than the other patrons.

Dorian laid a warning hand on Klaus' knee and squeezed gently.

"Watching that? No," Klaus answered curtly, picking up the first glass of cognac and finishing it.

"But- I mean-" For a befuddled minute the young SIS agent stared between the two men, uncertain what conclusions to draw. They couldn't *possibly* be here because... "Oh!" He suddenly looked quite pleased with himself, straightening with a slight smile on his lips.

Even an inexperienced agent could tell when a pair of his fellows was so deeply undercover that they wouldn't break that cover, no matter what. "Sorry, sirs. I'm... sure I've mistaken you for someone else. A shame, too, because our mutual friend would have been so tickled to know you were in town."

Klaus snorted as he picked up the second glass and took a much smaller sip. "I bet he would have. Go on, you muddling limey -- I'm on vacation. That means *no* agency gets near me. So go 'way."

When Dorian had sufficiently recovered his shock at hearing Klaus words, he pinched his lover lightly on the thigh. "Watch with the 'limey' stuff, eh...?" This was amazing! Whoever this young agent was, he'd given Klaus a perfect excuse and cover for being at the club, and Klaus hadn't accepted it!

The ersatz bartender looked doubly stunned as Dorian felt, and rubbed a hand confusedly through his hair. "Do you mean, you're actually here as *patrons*?" he squeaked.

"What do you think?" Klaus growled -- sounding 800% of Iron Klaus just then, sharp-tongued and arrogant in the face of idiocy.

His common sense, just then, was screaming at him to shut up.

Dorian had given up pinching and was just sitting quietly, shocked at the news his ears were carrying him.

Klaus, true to his reputation, had the young SIS man nearly shaking. "W-what... I think?" He was obviously torn. On the one hand, when he'd approached the table, the two *had* been lip-locked like pros. But then, everything he knew of Iron Klaus' reputation told him that he couldn't take the situation at face value. "I think... not," he eked out finally.

"I think that no matter what you think, you should get up from this booth and leave us be," Klaus told him firmly. "I was enjoying myself a few minutes ago."

Taking Klaus' advice, the young man leapt up from the booth, stammered a vague apology, and bolted.

"That wasn't very wise, Darling." Dorian knew he didn't have to tell Klaus that, but needed an opening as to *why* his lover had divulged as much as he had.

"I don't give a fuck," Klaus snarled quietly, finishing off the cognac. Well, that was a complete lie. "I hate SIS."

"Then why not lie to him?" That was Dorian's thief's nature speaking. It was always better in his eyes to put up a few falsehoods if in the end they would save a lot of trouble -- in this case, possible embarrassment.

"Because I..." He took a slow look around he room, eyes lingering on that group of three with more suspicion now, before he grabbed Dorian's hand. "Let's go home."

"Now?" Dorian had been looking forward to some more dancing at least. But he didn't dare complain too much, with Klaus' normally keen suspicions aroused. The group of men must have come in while they were dancing, to be missed in his initial sweep of the club.

"Yes, now..." No faces could be made out, but if someone that was being staked-out recognised him, he could shatter a surveillance with just his presence. Standing smoothly, he pulled Dorian close for a moment, and another brief kiss, before he headed towards the door.

Dorian was an odd mixture of petulance and Eroica's steady nerves as he walked with Klaus to the front, swinging on his coat as he went. "Such a pity... I know you were having as much fun as I was."

"I was," Klaus admitted. "Next time... there will be a next time."

"I'm sorry I picked a club frequented by criminals and SIS agents, Darling. Bad luck. Perhaps you should choose next time..." It was difficult to be too disappointed as Dorian turned his claim ticked over to the valet, however. Going home early would mean getting Klaus in his bed that much sooner tonight.

"It was fine until that stupid kid..." Klaus sighed, moving a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Best to not get frustrated or angry, because he'd be living in that state for days to come.

"That goes without saying." Dorian offered a snort of sympathy. Then, more hesitantly, "Do you suppose he'll really tell Laurence about seeing us here?"

"It won't matter if he does or not -- Lawrence won't believe him," Klaus pointed out.

"Very true. Especially if he goes into detail abut exactly what we were doing in that booth..." Dorian was impressed that Klaus was taking being recognised so calmly, especially after he'd been promised there was no chance of that happening.

Then again, it could have been attributed to the fact that it was only SIS, and Klaus had no admiration of them to worry about.

"So there isn't any worry," Klaus said wisely, waiting for Dorian to unlock the door.

The door was unlocked, and Dorian waited until Klaus was in and buckled and the car was in motion to speak again. "I really am sorry, Klaus. But... you could have easily denied everything. Why didn't you just play along?"

"It could have interfered with the quality of his mission if he thought we were there to monitor those three," Klaus excused.

"You don't mind that he saw us kissing?" This was a new idea for Dorian, that Klaus might actually becoming comfortable with affection given in public.

"I mind that he was staring," Klaus murmured, "and hovering." Not so comfortable -- it was permissible in the social situation.

Explanation enough to cause Dorian to relax completely. A golden chuckle escaped him, as he took a hand from the wheel to unbutton his shirt a notch. "Maybe he was jealous. You are a marvellous kisser."

"Why are you undressing?" Klaus asked, darting a glance at his lover.

"Um..." The blonde glanced down at himself. "It's just a button. I was feeling a little hot still, from dancing." /But it's tempting, isn't it? When I get you home, we're going straight to bed./

"Oh." Something was flickering in Klaus' eyes as he looked at Dorian -- something that seemed to be agreeing with Dorian's own thoughts.

It shouldn't still be a surprise -- shouldn't have ever been one, considering now passionately Klaus met other aspects of life -- that the military man should have as healthy a libido as his hedonistic lover.

Klaus' libido just found other ways to show itself. Like that hard, heavy gaze being more promising as it raked over Dorian. "Will the house be quiet when we get in?"

Dorian considered. "Well... I did happen to give the staff a night off. If we want sustenance, we're on our own. But that's a small price to pay for peace and privacy..."

Something Klaus still cherished dearly. "And we can break the quiet ourselves."

The Earl knew what that meant. After being a constrained, considerate partner while under Klaus' roof, the first time they'd had peace and privacy, Dorian had surprised Klaus with his raucous lovemaking. Dorian still hadn't coaxed quite the same level of vocal enthusiasm from his lover, but was certain it was only a matter of time and released inhibitions before it happened.

But Klaus' own quiet in no way said that he disliked hearing Dorian's loud moans and cries. He did, savouring every utterance in that rich accented voice, every cried word and incoherence. It was an assurance, one of many, that Dorian truly did enjoy what they did. And when he could get Dorian particularly loud, it was quite a satisfaction.

He shifted in the leather seat again, a hand moving to pull at the sweater a little around the neck before he turned the heater in the car down a notch. "That kind of dancing, Dorian... I think I enjoy it more than the usual."

"Do you?" That was asked sharply, with a hesitant smile. Dorian had been sure Klaus was merely humouring him to go to the club at all. "S' probably just because all the balls we've been to we haven't gotten to dance together."

"I'd like to do that sometime, too," Klaus murmured. He had odd tastes in music, he was learning -- he liked some of the harder American rock, and classical music. An odd mixture, and hard to indulge both in the same environment. "Some... some ball, Dorian, we will."

Perhaps some day, when they were both retired and greying old men. For now, even on the strength of Klaus' promise, Dorian did not hold much hope for the idea. "I prefer that other sort of dancing anyway, and we can do that whenever we want."

The smile on Klaus' mouth agreed with that, and he thought about it for a moment, pulling a cigarette out of the slender case in his pocket. "Do you think sex with music playing loud in the background would be good?"

More than good, but he wasn't quite up to telling Klaus the sorts of things he'd done before in clubs very like that one, where background accompaniment was universal. "Shall I set up the turntable when we get home...?"

"I'll set it up -- you find music," Klaus decided, lighting the cigarette and starting its' burn carefully, before he offered it to Dorian.

It was accepted carefully, Dorian balancing the wheel and stick and cigarette neatly. "Will do, Darling." The turntable was no where near the bedroom, but it was about time they christened the rest of the apartment, anyway. The floor in front of a blazing fire in the hearth was sounding mighty inviting to the blonde. "What ah... sort of music?" he added, wanting his suspicions confirmed.

"Ah, something loud," Klaus said, in that tone he used when being deliberately vague.

"Klaus..." Wagner could be considered loud! Dorian wanted clarification.

"Dammit, rock."

Dorian's smile became smug. "Just checking, Darling."

"I'm sure my father would completely give up on me if he knew that," Klaus chuckled quietly, pulling out a cigarette for himself. "You don't have to be smug."

"Be quiet and let me enjoy my victory. I've got you in leather pants and admitting to liking rock music. I *deserve* to be able to savour this moment."

"Idiot."

That was, as Dorian had learned with time, more of a fond endearment from Klaus than anything else could ever be, when he said it with so little fervent anger.

Around a turn, Dorian somehow managing to shift and steer and suck on his cigarette at the same time, and he gleefully pointed out, "But I'm your idiot."

"Yes, you are," was the rough, ungrudging agreement as Klaus let out a stream of smoke.

Suddenly serious and not knowing at all how his suggestion would be taken, Dorian uttered hesitantly, "It... feels so... definite. It's a pity we can't make it... official somehow."

"Two years... ja, 's definite." For Klaus, it had been definite since that Christmas eve two years before, though Dorian understood that about him. Another draw, and breath exhaled, slowly, silently... "Can you think of any way?"

/Have I already thought, you mean. And yes, but none that seem appropriate, or special enough, or.../ Dorian's sigh was more obvious, melancholy and frustrated. "I don't know. I don't even have a spot for a honeymoon picked out. Never envisioned being dedicated enough to one person to want one."

"We will not do any mockery of a wedding," Klaus warned him.

"Ugh -- I wouldn't dream of it!" The *thought* was nice, but only because it implied long-term commitment, which Klaus was obviously looking for.

"Good -- that would be..." Completely disgraceful, improper, a mockery... of things Klaus really didn't believe in. But it was a matter of pride. "There are other ways."

"Such as...?" Dorian was interested in hearing his ideas on a topic Klaus had obviously put some thought into.

"I... it depends on how you want this to go." And how Dorian defined 'official'. "On what would be official for you. Whether you would prefer it official and under the table or official and above the table. Under the table would be putting you as my Next of Kin in NATO records and listing you as a co-habitator."

Under the table official sounded pretty DAMNED official to the thief! It was as good as admitting that he and Klaus were lovers to the whole agency. "And what would be 'above table'?" the blonde inquired, trying to keep his voice steady. For naught -- if nothing else, trembling hands and a shaking cigarette must have given him away.

"I don't know."

There was the truth of it -- Klaus didn't know if he could actually manage any 'above board' way of doing it.

Dorian considered for a moment, then offered carefully, "I... would do the same for you, in my records." It was sad, in a way. Both men had living family, but were much closer to each other than to any relatives.

But both understood having family that wanted nothing to do with them. The only relative that had understood Dorian had been his father, and when the man had died... "There really is no way to make this recognised by law," Klaus murmured, taking a slow breath of smoke.

It wasn't that Dorian wanted to crush the man's notions, but... "Darling...? When was the last time you can remember me being concerned for what the law had to say about anything?" If it was official in their eyes, that was more than enough.

"I know you don't care. But if something happens, I don't want you shut out -- if I was hurt on a mission, or... worse, I wouldn't want you locked out." Of his life or what was left of his life -- it was *their* life now, together, even if he was still careful to keep it cool on missions.

"Yes..." There was that consideration. If something were to happen to Dorian, he would rather Klaus have responsibility for his welfare than his caustic mother. If something were to happen, he knew Klaus would be fair and at least civil to his little family of thieves, in a way his real family could never understand.

Hell, Klaus was even a little fond of Bonham -- in the same manner he was fond of Agents A, B and Z.

If anything, Klaus' family would be worse -- despite all signs to the obvious, they would deny that Dorian ever knew Klaus, and probably not act in his very very best welfare. For there was a difference between real welfare and prideful welfare. "Then I'll do that when we get back after the holiday."

"I will as well." He might as well, as long as it was going to be semi-official. Not that they'd actually been fooling anyone at NATO -- with the exception of Klaus' stupid Chief -- for a long time.

Then again, most of the intelligence world had thought they were having sexual relations for *years* and *years* -- far more than the two that they had! "Good, then. I think that is official as we can reach." The part of London they were in was looking familiar again as they drove farther... nearer to home.

Official publicly. Between the pair, Dorian was trying to think of something they could do, something small but meaningful.

"Tonight's been a good night, hasn't it?"

"For the most part." They'd reached their neighbourhood, Dorian's attention straying farther from the task of driving as he needed less on the familiar roads. "And it's not over by half."

That promise of words made Klaus smile a little again, as he finished off his cigarette.

"Not by half."