Dinner had gone well -- for re-heated steak and potatoes -- and then he'd eaten cherries with Dorian. Fruit wasn't really a dessert, and he wanted an excuse to watch the stain of it build slightly on Dorian's lips. When half of a carton was done, Klaus had insisted they'd had enough -- then asked Dorian, "What now?"

"The news is on," Dorian offered. "And there's the liquor we bought last night...."

"Wine, or the liquor?" Klaus asked, moving to carry their plates to the sink so he could rinse them quickly.

"The liquor," Dorian decided, fetching tumblers from the cabinet full of glasses. "Would you like ice, or d'you prefer it neat?" he asked, holding them in his hands and tilting his head thoughtfully to the side. The flavor of the cherries was still on his mouth, and he lightly darted out his tongue to taste his lower lip. The fruit had been sheer heaven, *exactly* what he wanted, and he was absolutely sated with it.

"No ice." The sprayer was pulled free of the sink, and Klaus quickly rinsed the plates they had eaten from rather than making use of the paper ones. It was odd in a way, how such a military man would do such a thing -- and *well* -- but then, Klaus was also deathly neat. More than once since he and Klaus had started to live with each other, Dorian had found his happily tossed clothing, or book, or paper, or whatever, put neatly away where he couldn't find it.

Luckily for Klaus, Dorian found that charming. /Almost cute, in fact!/ "All right," he said, looking for the bottle and finding it neatly placed beside the wine rack next to the refrigerator. "I'm ready when you are," he announced. "Do we want to take the rest of the cherries?"

"We've had enough cherries, Dorian," Klaus chided, looking over to him as he picked up a towel to dry the plates with. "How well do you handle liquor?"

"Fairly well," Dorian decided. He wouldn't get drunk right off, but he *was* likely to get tipsy quickly. He wasn't very fond of being drunk, in and of itself. Getting drunk often meant getting *sick*, and he definitely didn't like that! "You?"

"You've seen me drunk before, Dorian -- it takes a lot," Klaus said, lips wearing that odd smile that was a little vicious and a little proud. He'd have to keep his eye on Dorian as they drank, to make sure the Briton was okay still.

"All of that German heritage?" came the teasing response. "I should warn you. Pirates' blood flows in these veins!" That thought rather amused Dorian, who laughed softly. "Hm. Well, I s'pose I had to get it *somewhere*..."

"Get what?" Plates were neatly stacked on the counter, and then Klaus walked past Dorian, snagging the bottle of whiskey. Then he led the way to the living room. There was one big chair there, but the sofa faced the television, too...

And he and Dorian could easily fit in either together. /Get your fucking filthy mind clean, Klaus./

"My urge for thievery," Dorian teased further, settling onto the couch and looking up at Klaus almost *expectantly*. "Is this all right, then? If we sit together, we won't chance dropping the bottle..."

/We already share a bed, and.../ And Dorian had jerked him off the night before. How could Dorian even *ask* that, Klaus wondered as he sat down beside the thief after he'd grabbed the remote control. "It's fine. What channels here show news?"

"Dunno," was the answer. "Just flip through a few and we'll undoubtedly find one eventually. I mean, it's about the time for news, so surely most of them will be playing it, right?" Dorian asked, reaching for the bottle that Klaus had tucked between his legs to twist off the top.

"What're you--!" Klaus cut himself off as he nearly jumped to have Dorian doing that. The set cut on, and Klaus flipped to three before he dropped the remote quickly, and just *handed* Dorian the bottle. "A warning would be good."

"For the news?" Dorian asked him blankly before realizing that Klaus had meant the bottle, now in his hands. His face flushed heatedly, mouth turning down. "Oh! I'm sorry, Klaus, I didn't think...." Didn't think that something so simple would upset him or remind him of what had happened. /Dorian, you idiot./

Klaus was now as tense as a wire-rope pulled so taut it was near snapping -- even as he rested his back against the cushion behind him, frowning firmly as he watched the CBS news begin. No, there wasn't really a reply he could give Dorian -- not one that wouldn't just embarrass him worse, or make Dorian unhappy. Silence was better, even if it was strained.

"Here," Dorian said, offering him the first glass poured as a way of making peace. "Now we can sit and make fun of the rest of the world, all right?"

"Make fun of...?" Klaus wasn't quite following that, as he swirled the glass a little, watching the gentle sloshing.

"Sure. Politicians are all idiots at heart, darling," the British man declared. "Half the fun is in realizing that they're idiots!"

"Incompetent, often," Klaus agreed, as the show cut right away to a commercial break. THAT figured, but it gave him an excuse to re-settle himself, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee. His old sitting position with long legs spread haphazardly made him uncomfortable now, so he'd gone back to the older habits of crossing them or stretching them out in front of him.

With a sigh, Dorian leaned back and slightly towards Klaus, pulling his own legs up underneath him slightly as they watched little cartoon characters dancing across the screen trying to sell something. "Mmmhmmm," he agreed, taking a swallow of his own drink. It was rather strong, and he didn't think he had ought to drink much of it, or he'd be too drunk to walk to bed! /So much for my tolerance. This stuff's deadly!/

Klaus's first sip was with little reaction at all, only an appreciative noise, and another sip. As long as Dorian was unobtrusive and familiar at his side... /No. It's not even an 'as' anymore... I want him here, I want more, but it's sick. He's been hurt and he'd do anything for me./ It was a trust that couldn't be abused.

When the news came back on, it was with dreadfully serious faces and blathering about some American politician who'd apparently confessed to cheating on his wife weeks before. "Good God. Doesn't *every* politician cheat on his wife?" Dorian asked. "I thought it was some sort of private perk of politics. 'Here's your office, here's your desk, here's your new mistress... er, pardon me, *intern*'," he said lightly, shaking his head.

"Not all politicians, Dorian, are like that," Klaus murmured, taking another sip from his glass. "Maybe it's just you Brits and Americans."

"Hm. I think it's a universal failing, personally," came the reply over some babble about a football strike. "I thought strikes came in baseball??"

"Americans and their sports," Klaus sighed, finishing his glass before he turned to Dorian for more to be added. "'Soccer' is a much better sport."

"Mmmmm," Dorian agreed amicably, pouring for Klaus before topping off his own glass. His cheeks were a little flushed, but drinking of any sort always made him warm, and he wasn't tipsy yet. "It's rather ridiculous of them to call it football, anyway. The only thing to do with feet is when they kick it, and they only do that twice or so in a game. It's all running about and trying to squish one another into the mud, isn't it?"

"No mud. I watched a game once. There isn't any mud. Rugby has mud." Another shift, Klaus's stiff posture seeming to loosen a little. They were talking over the news, but he didn't care too much. It was serving as comfortable background noise, and if there was something important, it would catch his eye fast enough.

"Rugby has a great *deal* of mud," Dorian agreed dreamily, sipping at his own glass. "I haven't played in years...."

"You used to play that?" He couldn't really see it. Dorian, little, had to have been more of a fairy than Dorian the adult!

The blond man nodded. "Poorly. Very poorly. I'm afraid I spent more time *in* the mud than I spent running, but I've always been quick, so there were times I got ahead of the rest of them and didn't do too badly. You?"

"Never. I played soccer, though, all through boarding school." A little at the military school, as well, but those had been informal games. Memories like that were safe to take out, touch, look over and let Dorian see a little of; safer than missions... Klaus took a long swallow from his glass, then took the bottle from Dorian to top it off. They'd come a long way from him making Dorian drink out of his hands.

"I'll bet you were cute," Dorian said with a little sigh. "Little soccer shorts, and so *intense*!!" As if Klaus could ever be anything *but* intense!

"Is there something wrong with the shorts?" Sometimes, *somehow*, Klaus could miss things like that, little innuendo or things that amused Dorian in that way. "Intense... I was captain of the team. Suppose that counts."

With a sigh, the British thief laid his head over on Klaus's shoulder, the thought of it somehow deliciously romantic. "Ohhh, I knew you would be, and so *cute*! There's nothing wrong with the shorts. I'll bet you were adorable in them..." Adorable wasn't exactly the word, but if he'd said sexy, Klaus might have killed him!

"I'm not adorable and never have been," Klaus denied. The glass was moved from his right hand to his left, and then Klaus slid his right arm around Dorian as if it belonged there. And maybe it just did. "Cute. Huh."

Pleased with himself, Dorian sighed again and finished off his drink, nuzzling against Klaus. "Mmmhmmmm. Very cute," he agreed, working the top off of the bottle again. "You're very cute now."

"I'm cute? I demand you tell me how." Klaus watched Dorian get the top off, pouring *full* glasses for both of them. Dorian seemed to be getting a little tipsy, but... not drunk. /Hell, I'm getting tipsy. Too long without drinking./

"You have the most *adorable* smile," Dorian purred, taking a long swallow of his drink. /Hmmm. Bravery in a bottle./ "And the way you laugh. And how sweet you are. And how gorgeous you are..." He was babbling and he knew it!

Flushing pink, Klaus tried to find distraction in the news, but found only a deodorant ad on. So, attention back to Dorian, Klaus had nothing to do but look at the head pillowed against his shoulder. "Don't say things like that." /Especially that last one, Dorian, because it's such a lie./

"They're true!" Dorian protested, drinking again. His cheeks were flushed, his lips curved up in a smile, and it was *so* damned tempting! "All of it's true. And now you look like a beautiful pirate, and I'm very fond of pirates," he declared almost happily. There was just something about being tipsy that was *too* delicious!

"Pirate..." Klaus echoed that, letting it sink in before the embarrassed burn of his cheeks turned to humiliation. A PIRATE?! "I'm no fucking pirate, Dorian," he snapped.

"But you *are* beautiful," Dorian sighed, lifting his face up slightly to smile at Klaus, gaze brushing over the other man's luscious lips.

Lips that soon quickly drained the glass, long swallows that must have burned on the way down. "You haven't seen the eyepatch off, have you?" He'd been very careful about keeping it placed neatly over the mess.

"No," Dorian admitted softly. "But it wouldn't make me think any differently about the way you look. You're a beautiful man... I appreciate beauty. I appreciate you."

"Can't see why," Klaus sighed, taking the bottle from Dorian to fill his glass again. There was just a little left in it in case Dorian wanted some, but... But Klaus would appreciate the liquor more, probably, once the numbness set in. "Pirate. Hah."

"It's a little romantic," Dorian admitted, sipping at the remainder of his glass. By the end of it, he knew he'd be in purely maudlin shape -- maudlin or horny, and which was worse, he couldn't say. "But it's still very nice..."

"It's a mess under it. 's not aesthetic at all," Klaus sighed, nursing the drink a little, his other arm still loosely around Dorian. That he hadn't pulled back was a very good sign, despite the calm, *definitely* maudlin mod settling over him.

"I dun care," Dorian declared. "Not a whit. Not even a bit. I love you madly, so it doesn't matter at all."

"Nothing matters, does it?" That, too, was depressing. "It doesn't matter to you that I'm as sick as those Stasi?"

"You aren't." That reply was firm, even if Dorian himself was tipsy. "You dun want t'hurt me. 'S not so bad, 'f you dun want t'hurt me, you know. 'S actually quite nice. Especially if you kiss me. I like it when you let me kiss you," Dorian whispered, looking at Klaus yearningly.

"I haven't kissed you." The night before didn't count. that had been a panicked reaction, not a kiss...

"Could you kiss me now?" Dorian asked, mouth parting slightly by way of invitation.

Dorian wanted him, to, was *asking*....

/He's been drinking./ "You're probably drunk, Dorian." /Just kiss him. I want to. I want to do so much.../ But Dorian was still lying when he said it wasn't sick.

"Probably," Dorian agreed. "But I've wanted you to kiss me even when I was sober, so 's not something I dun want..."

Those stumbled words were quickly taken from him, by the careful buss of Klaus's lips against his, warm, damp from drinking. Unlike the night before, Klaus could concentrate on what it felt like, first one press, then another, then a third where he let his lips part a little, pressing without pulling back.

He could feel Dorian's mouth part for him, the other man bringing up his free hand to lightly touch Klaus's shoulder as he accepted the kiss, sighing quietly into it. Being kissed by Klaus was even better than kissing him had been the night before, and Dorian was willing to let him go as far as he would like before either of them stopped. The mere realization that they *would* stop was there, an automatic assumption, and so he wouldn't be disappointed when they reached that moment. Instead, he was going to enjoy every second of the kiss for all he was worth!

Klaus finally drew back, pausing just a bit back from Dorian's lips. Then he pulled back, setting his half-finished glass aside before settling with Dorian near him again. "Did you like that?" His voice came out so very husky, slow and deliberate.

"Very much," Dorian agreed a little breathlessly, mouth tingling from the last of that delicious kiss. "Oh, so much. Klaus, if I ask you to again..." The blond man was having a hard time fighting back need, and in more ways than one. He knew he wasn't ready for more than kisses, knew that nothing was going to be easy for them, but he wanted Klaus so much...!

"Just..." One wall defeated, it seemed, only the broken cobbles left behind to stumble on. "Just kisses," Klaus whispered, leaning back in just a little bit to take another from Dorian, just as slow and exploring as the first. It was amateur compared to some of Dorian's lovers from the past, but there was *something* behind it, and a tenderness that made up for any imperfections.

"Yes," Dorian whispered, trembling, his arms sneaking around Klaus's neck, glass tilted upright and still clasped in one hand. "Oh, yes, Klaus, please..."

Sweet, slow melding, and Klaus flickered his tongue briefly between Dorian's lips, a barely made motion, and then he drew back again. "'s nice."

"I could kiss you forever," Dorian said by way of agreement, mouth trembling slightly. "Oh, Klaus..." His arms tightened slightly, body half laying across Klaus's chest.

Klaus's left hand -- freed of the brace since before supper -- plucked Dorian's glass from his fingers and slid it onto the table. "Just kisses." Anything else... was too tempting and too much. He couldn't tell if, without the haze drifting into his mind, he'd even be able to do that again in the morning.

"All right." That was the second agreement he'd gotten from Dorian even as the blond thief shifted slightly, moving so that he was more comfortable against Klaus, face lifting again. This time, his lips snuck the first kiss, pressing softly against Klaus's before stealing that luscious lower lip to suck at lightly for just a moment. "Mmmmmm...!"

"Uhmm..." The soft noise that left Klaus was hard to place, but it wasn't a protest. "'s that a kiss?"

"Mmmmhmmmmm," was the answer even as Dorian's tongue lightly darted out to brush at Klaus's upper lip and along the line of white teeth.

"Don'..." the protest or question aborted, and Klaus pulled Dorian nearer to him, kissing back, making a slight mimicry of the tantalizing suckle at his lower lip.

The little sound of pleasure that gained him was *definitely* a good thing, Dorian's arms tightening around him, pulling them closer together. He'd never wanted anything so much as he had wanted to kiss Klaus, and it felt better than any dream or fantasy he'd ever had! Carefully, he slipped his tongue deeper into the other man's mouth, teasing, reaching gently for the tip of Klaus's tongue and finding it, rubbing it lightly with his own before drawing back to fairly simple kissing for a moment.

That simpler version was needed to keep Klaus's mind together, to keep him from scattering to pieces -- or, so Klaus felt when he finally broke the tender lock of mouth against mouth. "'s go upstairs...?"

"Please," Dorian murmured huskily, nodding, heart framming violently against his ribs. "Yes...."

"We... aren't going to do anything, but..." Lay there close, closer and more comfortable than they could manage on the couch, kiss, hold...

"Right," Dorian agreed, head spinning just a bit with rising passion and no small amount of alcohol. "Right...."

He was moved to fully sitting with Klaus's careful guidance, and then pulled to standing. "kay?"

"Never been better!" Dorian assured huskily, his tongue darting out to touch his own mouth. "Mmmm... one more kiss before we go upstairs?" he asked softly.

The earl was leaning on Klaus more than he was standing, to begin with, so it wasn't much of a shift to move him just a little closer, meeting those lips cautiously.

/Ohhh, Klaus,/ Dorian thought deliriously, shivering slightly with the innate tenderness of the other man's touch, something most people would have assumed to be an impossibility. /Anything was worth this moment.../

Well.

Almost anything...

"'s the stairs now?" Klaus asked, knowing he was probably incoherent from the haze of the liquor settling over him like a heavy blanket, and the shock of trying to process that he was kissing Dorian.

"Sounds like a good idea," Dorian agreed, wobbling a bit as he made a move in that direction. "'f we can get that far..."

The German's pace, though, was steady as he crossed the carpeted floor to the stairs. "Jus' hold onto me."

"Holding on," Dorian agreed, chuckling as he wobbled again and ended up leaning on Klaus. "Holdin' tight. I didn't mean to get so drunk. Oh, dear. It was awf'lly strong stuff, wasn't it?"

"'s been a while since I drank like that..." Klaus smiled for a flicker of a moment as he started up the stairs, slowly, one hand around Dorian's waist and the other on the hand-rail. "'m not going to be taking my medications tonight."

"'s it good for you not to take 'em?" Dorian questioned, hiccoughing slightly. "Ohh..."

"I c'n skip once," Klaus shrugged, forging his way up the stairs. Stopping could be a chance to lose balance, and he didn't plan to let go of Dorian until they were in the bedroom.

"Aa~aall... right," Dorian said by way of agreement, chuckling quietly again. "Ohhh, Klaus," he sighed. "You give the best kisses. I always knew your mouth was so soft..."

"'s it?" That was chuckled as much as it was questioned, as he set foot in the hallway, glad to no-longer navigate the stairs.

"Mmmmhmmmmmm...!" That was fairly hummed, Dorian taking a deep breath and letting it out once more. "Will you kiss me 'gain?" he asked, smiling.

"'n the bedroom." Oh, if his men could see him just then... Klaus pushed open the bedroom door, moving towards the large bed.

"'s a good place for kisses," Dorian agreed as he tumbled into the bed, laughing softly again. Ohhh, being drunk felt very good when Klaus was being so marvelous to him! "I'd like to be kissed here, with you in my arms. Would be *beautiful*," he sighed, reaching up and placing a hand over his heart.

"Mmm, why?" Klaus asked, putting a knee down on the bed beside Dorian, and then tumbling after him to simply stretch out across the bed on his stomach.

"'Cause I've wanted it for so long," the dreamy answer came. "Wanted you to hold me and kiss me and..." /And love me.../ Even if Klaus didn't. Even if he wasn't worthy of that emotion from his beautiful German Major...

Who wasn't quite beautiful anymore, or a major. "How long?" Klaus pushed himself up on an elbow to move closer to Dorian, to hold him close and warmly.

"Since you held me in th'tank," Dorian answered, smiling up at him. "I think, since then. I wanted you t'do it again, an' I hated you, an' you were so frustrating an' so *marvelous*. An' I wanted you t'do it again."

"'re completely drunk," Klaus told him, tone as solemn as he could manage while verging on the same himself. "Get over here."

"Yep," Dorian agreed with a sigh, scooching over to Klaus's side and draping himself over the other man. "That's strong stuff you got. 's impaired all kinds of things. Dun know. You gonna kiss me again?" he asked.

"You really like that," Klaus sighed softly, a contented musing as he shifted nearer Dorian to take another kiss. "We should prob'ly change clothes..." So they could be more comfortable when they indulged in kisses, tentative but wanted by both parties.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," was the sound of Dorian's agreement, muffled by the kisses he was giving Klaus's jaw. "Bath would be nice, but 'm a bit too drunk to bathe." If he tried, he'd probably only manage to hurt himself!!

"We could... in the morning, 'stead," Klaus uttered, shifting Dorian so he could kiss the Briton's soft mouth a little. Maybe getting changed was a bad idea, too. He could sleep comfortably enough as he was, and Dorian probably could too. "'d prob'ly fall."

"Mmmhmmmmm...." Dorian answered. "Gotta change, though. Gonna get wrinkled..." Not as if they already weren't, but in some bizarre way, that logic made sense to him.

"'ll right," Klaus murmured, letting his companion free with reluctance. He *liked* holding Dorian close, but if the man said he needed to change clothes, well, then he did.

With some effort, the slim blond worked his way out of the bed ass first, thinking that would help him keep his balance. He was at least partially right -- he didn't fall over until he reached his suitcase. "Ooooops!"

"'n okay?" Klaus sat up more, chuckling a little at the sight before him. Dorian sprawled on the floor, hair in his eyes, pose one that was so pretty it had to have been calculated, perhaps years before and practiced. That sight urged Klaus to sit on the edge of the bed, and then stand, walking slowly over to Dorian to sit down cross-legged beside him.

"Ooops," Dorian declared again, smiling at him in that brilliantly Dorian way that Klaus loved so much. "I think I c'n get things out better down here, dun you think so, too?"

"Yeh." Smiling back a little as he leaned forwards to help Dorian sit up a little *neater*, Klaus decided in a hazy manner that he was happy. In that moment, sitting there with Dorian, he was happy. "C'n I help you find things?" he offered, knowing he was still a good bit steadier than Dorian.

"My blue pajamas 're dirty," Dorian told him earnestly. "Gotta have something else. What color d'you like?" he asked, poking at his suitcase and smiling at Klaus again.

"Anything," the german shrugged, trying to figure out why Dorian's pajamas were dirty. He'd only worn them once, the night before, and... oh. Klaus's face flushed a little more than it had been already. /It didn't just disappear, so 'course it was on his pajamas.../ "'ll do washing tomorrow."

The blond man nodded with solemn mien, as washing clothes somehow was the answer to life, the universe and everything. "Okay. I like the blue. 've got purple. D'you like purple? You *dun* like red..." Dorian, it seemed, was a remarkably *happy* drunk, and one with very little sense!!

"Purple's fine." Red... He didn't like to see red on Dorian -- in general it was a fine color, but on Dorian... "Red looks like too much blood. 'minds me of you hurt; 's not a good thing."

"Ohhhhh," Dorian replied, looking at him worshipfully. "'ll throw it all out, then! Woosh! Gone!"

"'s other colours you look 's nice in," Klaus told him, peering into the suitcase's jumble of clothing. There wasn't *one* suitcase, either -- there were four total, all *big* things, and Dorian's hefty carry on, and a duffle. Klaus's own things were in one suitcase and a duffle, and he suspected *himself* of having brought too many clothes! "Blue, green, white... 're pretty in white."

"Oooohhh!!!" That seemed to be the word of choice for the evening! "White... white, white, 've got white, it's... AH-HA!" And, indeed, he did have white, in pajamas that were much like his blue ones. The only difference was that the legs of the things were actually long pajama bottoms as opposed to short. "'s this good?" he asked, looking to Klaus for his opinion.

Drapey, and very Eroica in style, with a thin draw-string that Dorian probably wouldn't bother to tie. Klaus nodded approval, smiling again. "'s good. 's very good." Now, to get off the floor, and get his *own* pajamas...

"Kiss me again," Dorian breathed, leaning forward slightly and almost tipping over. "Then, we'll change. 'kay?"

"Right." Klaus's hands came up to steady Dorian, resting at the tops of his hips as he leaned up to receive the gift of Dorian's kiss. He realized that come morning he could blame liquor, or insanity, or... but he wouldn't. It wouldn't do either of them any good -- the truth helped, even when it was hard to say, in any little bit he could say it.

The soft sound that Dorian gave as Klaus kissed him was utterly delicious; there wasn't a doubt in his mind about that, even as Dorian's lips parted, granting him entrance and giving him that enticing swipe of tongue again, teasing at his own lower lip and seeking out the edge of his teeth. It was good, beyond good, and he wished it wouldn't ever, ever stop...

"One more?" Klaus breathed when it broke, tugging at Dorian's hips a little. A motion that brought the tipsy thief down atop him with a thud.

"One more," Dorian agreed breathlessly, sprawled out over him. /This is some sort of drunken hallucination, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it,/ he decided, closing his eyes and pressing his lips lightly to Klaus's before parting them.

What followed was another slow sparring of lips, swipe of tongue against tongue before melding closer for a moment to a delicious twining; then Klaus broke it. "Hmmhm," the German smiled up at him, hands moving to lift Dorian to his feet again. It hurt the still healing muscles of his chest a little, aggravated earlier by his shooting testing, but the feel of Dorian's lean body, even if it was through a filmy sort of shirt... wonderful. "'ve got to get my clothes..."

The urge to suggest going naked made Dorian shiver and then laugh at himself. "Hmmmkay," he agreed, beginning to strip absentmindedly so that he could change. "I'll try an' not fall over again..."

"Mm." Klaus stood unsteadily, using the floor to push himself up, back-end reaching 'up' first, before he straightened. And then tried to cross the floor in a fair facsimile of his usual walk. Tried.

"Oh, Klaus! The room is weaving around you! How remarkable!"

"Was?" Klaus asked, pivoting quickly and finding himself, remarkably, on the floor, still looking at Dorian.

THAT prompted yet more amusement from the blond man, who promptly swayed his way towards Klaus. "Ohhhh, the room made *you* drunk, too. Up... we go," he declared, holding out a hand for Klaus.

Klaus declined, though, shifting to push himself up again. "Oh, no, 'm not going to end up w' you fallin' again..."

"D'you think I'm drunker'n you are?" Dorian asked him suspiciously, clutching his pajamas to his half-naked form.

"Mm, ja," Klaus said decisively, deciding to simply crawl over to his suitcase once he was up to his knees.

"You're pretty drunk," Dorian decided, pulling on his pajama shirt before unbuttoning his slacks and letting them fall. "I must be 'n pretty bad shape..."

"Think so..." Klaus sat down beside his own suitcase, looking over his shoulder at Dorian and openly staring at the sight that met his eye. The hem of Dorian's shirt just skirted the tops of his hips, and without the slacks, and the underwear he wore being pulled down already... there was a lot for Klaus to look at. Just like the night before, when Dorian had been showering, it was arousing in ways that the events of the Stasi *hadn't* been.

A momentary fumbling hid all of that from view, but then Dorian's bottom met with the floor again and he somehow managed to get his pajama bottoms partially on, tugging at them. They rolled up, and he frowned, trying to untangle them. "Uh-oh..."

"Need... need help?" Klaus offered, throat suddenly just *parched* for water, air, anything...

"I broke them," Dorian said sadly, though that *wasn't* the problem. If Klaus could just get them unrolled, the thin silk would be just fine. The problem lay in that word, though -- IF. "They don't work anymore! And you wanted the white..."

"I'll help," Klaus told him, trying to figure out just *how* Dorian could have broken them. He moved, still fully dressed, across the floor, on hands and knees all the way, over to where Dorian sat, pants caught about his knees. "No, 're just twisted."

"Ohhh," came the sound of understanding, Dorian smiling at him again. "Can you fix them??" he asked, blinking at Klaus almost audibly.

"Ja. Lift... your hips little," he told Dorian, moving a bit over Dorian, as he started to unroll the sides carefully.

The flood of emotion that brought spilling through the British man's veins was undeniable, a shiver working down his spine as he gave a soft little sound, pleading, wanting... even though he didn't think he wanted anything at all!! "Klaus...."

"Ja...?" Klaus's tone was a careful, but still fuzzy one, as he kept shifting the fabric over Dorian's legs, hands stopped with it just over Dorian's bottom and groin.

"That's... very nice!" Dorian told him breathily, squirming and trying *not* to show his very obvious reaction.

It seemed to confuse Klaus some, until he decided to finish fixing Dorian's pants for him, and *found* the obvious reaction. "Ohhhh."

"I'm sorry," Dorian murmured, shivering and biting his lower lip, turning his face away slightly. "Oh... I'm.... I can't help it..."

"...why...?" Somehow, Klaus found the breath to ask that, as he drew his hands a little away from Dorian's hips. Why was the earl hard -- *him*?

"B'cause it's you," Dorian explained, face flaming with color as he shivered. "B'cause I know you won't hurt me. B'cause...." Because he'd *always* wanted Klaus...

Looking down again, in the dim light of a room lit only by what the un curtained windows let in, Klaus could see the earl's cock in better detail than he ever had before. Perhaps it was the angle, or how humiliated and vulnerable the Briton looked, but Klaus was struck by how very similar that felt to the moments Dorian had been deposited in his lap. Quietly, he shifted a bit closer to Dorian, one hand slipping from the aborted movements of pulling up Dorian's pants to touching bare skin.

A soft release of breath sounded, Dorian's tongue darting out to moisten lips gone dry, legs coming together slightly at that touch. "Klaus..." There was something about his name being spoken that way that was utterly and completely decadent, wonderful, intense. It sounded so good, and Dorian's hands were reaching for him, the other man moaning quietly as he drew Klaus into another kiss, shivering. "Mmnn..."

Dorian would probably want to see the back of him in the morning, Klaus realized fleetingly. He tugged those silky pants back down a few inches before he let his right hand rest atop Dorian's bare thigh, weight resting on his better left hand as he lazily kissed Dorian back. He was touching Dorian, and the man's skin didn't feel as if anyone else had ever touched him, ever hurt him. Pure bliss.

"Klaus..." came the whisper again as they broke apart momentarily. Even in the light coming through the window, the expression of dazed and exquisite pleasure on Dorian's face was more than obvious. "D'you wanna do this on th'bed?" he murmured, a hand stroking slowly down Klaus's left arm.

"D'n want t' move," Klaus murmured, his maimed hand moving very slowly against the skin of Dorian's leg, the juncture of thigh and hip, over lean muscle. If they moved, he'd lose his nerve.

"Kay," Dorian agreed, shivering and leaning to kiss him again, body rocking slightly towards him. "Mmmm..." Oh, God, it had to be a dream or some sort of fantasy! There was no way the warm feel of Klaus's touch against his flat belly could be real!!

That hand moved, from over Dorian's stomach to just down, his two fingers brushing nervously at the edge of golden blond curls of hair. /I shouldn't do this... It's wrong to do this, it's wrong to *want* this.../

A darting tongue teased at his lower lip in that moment, Dorian yielding to him gloriously. Hands came up to lightly pull at his shoulders, tugging him closer, and the slim thief shivered, obviously wanting more of him. "Please, Klaus..." he managed to get out in a whisper. "'s okay. 's what I want, f'r the longest time... *please*..."

/He's going to hate me.../ Slowly, that hand wrapped around the base of Dorian's cock, giving it a slow stroke. Heat, hard and slicked just a little, *Eroica's* cock in his hand... Klaus kissed Dorian all the harder in that moment, as if to keep himself from fully realizing his actions.

The little sound that Dorian uttered against his mouth said it all -- said that he wanted it, that it was pleasurable, almost unbearably so. His hands, roaming over Klaus's chest, paused to tug at him, get him close, even as his hips rocked up to the wreck of Klaus's hand. The way he trembled was sweet, the way he kissed Klaus in return unbearable, and he was so *hot*!! He seemed to be throwing off pure sparks of heat as he writhed beneath Klaus's touch, begging wordlessly for him.

But a hand on his erection and heated kisses were all he was going to get from the man. All that Klaus could manage to give as he finally stopped all thought in his mind and tried to concentrate, hazily, on Dorian's bucking beneath him. The Stasi had never taken that from Dorian, had they? No, no proof of pleasure given then, and this writhing seemed so different than that other.

"Please," Dorian begged prettily, panting breaths escaping him as he rocked to meet Klaus's hand, moaning. Golden curls scattered around him, head shaking slowly from side to side. "PLEASE, Klaus... wan' *MORE*..."

"Can't." It was all that Klaus could answer, too, even as he pumped Dorian's hardness, thumb rubbing over the uncut head. Slick, and Klaus realized that he had another man's secretions on his hand. /'s Dorian. Just Dorian.../ So with that thought steadying him, he kept the touch going, a touch that made Dorian cry out and wrap his arms tightly about Klaus's neck, whimpering with the sheer pleasure of it.

"Love you," the blond man gasped out, shuddering as he kissed Klaus deeply. "'ve always loved you!"

Always, it seemed -- always, always the man who was a complete opposite from him; shining light while he was all but a dark night in the middle of a blackout; on the other side of the law, while he was an stalwart, upstanding officer; a raging homosexual, while he was stern and straight... But no straight man could be, drunk or not, reacting so heatedly to Dorian's kisses, touching his cock, and wanting more.

With a cry, Dorian came, stiffening with pleasure and biting his lower lip hard when he did, the tingle of it spreading from groin to every nerve he had, concentrated so intently upon the spot where Klaus's hand worked that it was almost enough to send him spinning dizzily into unconsciousness. Instead, he simply kissed Klaus again, barely able to think or move or do anything except *be*, head swimming with drunkenness and orgasm. "Ooohhh!!!"

After that kiss, Klaus simply settled against Dorian; left hand still planted firmly on the floor, leaning on it, his right lifted to slide around Dorian's chest after he'd wiped it on his own trousers. Then he slumped a little, eye closed as he rested his head against the earl's shoulder.

The sound of his name was a prayer on Dorian's lips, dazed and softly spoken. "Klaus... oh, Klaus, my Klaus...." the man murmured dazedly, the glowing aftereffects of pleasure still glazing him deliciously. "My Klaus..."

"'re not angry?" came the slow, accent heavy question from beneath his chin.

"Hmm-mmm," was the sleepy negative answer. "Dun know why I would be," Dorian whispered, shivering. "'s wonderful, when you touch me..." Beyond wonderful, actually. "'ve always wan'ed you to..."

The German fell quiet again, holding himself still, very still, as he held onto Dorian. But when he spoke again, it wasn't pressing any issue or asking any questions. "Bed?"

"Mmmhmmmm," Dorian told him, yawning and shifting slightly to feel Klaus's erection against his thigh. "Ohh, you're still...." He smiled, pushing his leg with a bit more force to rub against Klaus's crotch.

"Uhhn..." The sound was an almost crippling one, of too much sensation at once through too much fabric; But the discomfort helped almost, eased guilt over what he'd just done, as he moved counterpoint to Dorian's leg.

"Darling..." came the whisper from Dorian's lips. "Klaus..." He was kissing the German man again, then, a hand moving to strive at the catch of Klaus's trousers to work gently inside of them.

"*No*..." He was firm on that, as he batted Dorian's hand away with his right. Even though he had to let go of the man to do that, lift his head minutely. "Just..." The pressure of Dorian's leg was enough, and he couldn't think of a way to convince Dorian that he didn't deserve the comfort of Dorian's hand then.

"Please," Dorian murmured, kissing him again, even though he let Klaus take his hand away. "Nn..." Instead, he went back to pressing against Klaus with his thigh, shuddering slightly as he rocked towards the other man. /This... *THIS* is what pleasure is. This is what it should be, between me and Klaus, wonderful and tender and not.../ He wouldn't think about that just at the moment. Everything felt too good for him to even contemplate *that*!

"Ohhh..." Klaus's completion came fast, a draining rush that left him with a low groan and a tight shudder that felt like it would never end. Still a good release, better than anything his own hands had given him, and it was just from rubbing against Dorian...

He could have slept right there, so tired and fuzzy-headed he felt, and he clung to Dorian a little once more, his body feeling wonderfully boneless. But they had to get to the *bed* or else there'd be a whole range of stiffnesses to deal with come morning.

"'m shleepy," Dorian mumbled, kissing him again tenderly. "'sh very nishe, Klaush..." He was already drunk, and the aftereffects of orgasm were leaving him even less coherent than he'd been before. "'sh wunnerful..."

Somehow, the German managed to gather himself enough to jerk upright, Dorian coming with him. They made it to the bed, slumping into it shortly after reaching the edge. It took only a moment to pull Dorian's pants up the rest of the way, to pull the sheets down, and then for both of them to slide beneath the soft percale. With a sigh, Dorian shifted against him, curling up with his arms around Klaus and a leg pressed lightly to him, head nestled on the other man's shoulder.

"Do love you," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his cheek against Klaus tenderly. "Ver' mush."