#the excited; thrilled press of his ear to the window mesh / trying to get as close as possible to hear it? to be Sure?

[palismet]

u ever think about how hunter would learn about wolves in the human realm and then have the windows open, hear a familiar, distant sound and go oh! oh! wolves in connecticut! wolves in connecticut! and it's just the siren of an ambulance

[seancekitsch]

Venus

A/N: warning for alc mentions, unprotected sex, some kinky slapping dom/sub stuff, my normal freak ass shit

-

Loving Klaus was easy, you found. Easy to have it open and known and free than to feel yourself wrestling with the feelings the way you had been a month prior. A month of ‘I love you’ and a month of really feeling like the two of you were a proper couple, at the very least like the two of you were real people. His siblings noticed it too, the shift. Like you were finally one of them, and it felt nice to belong. You really hadn’t ever felt that way before, not without drugs, and that was only belonging through wanting to get something out of someone else and not just the people themselves. Last week the holidays had come and gone, and you were honestly surprised his family had included you in the celebrations, despite the fact that you and Klaus had thrown them all a birthday party two months prior. Their holiday traditions were weird, donuts and eighties music and bickering, but it was nice. The week spanned on and turned to the final night, new years, finally the family happy to be seeing a year that isn’t some fucked up version of 2019 (one that Klaus has told you over and over his brother Ben was alive and absolutely cruel and you were married to your ex and clearly using) and finally ready to move on from it all. This timeline wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it was the one you both had together and it was the one his family fixed. Tonight was for celebrating, for dancing and drinking and forgetting your worries. It's fun, but it's only a matter of time before Klaus takes you home or to a forgotten spare room. Allison opens up her house in the city to her family and their guests. The night starts with dinner, which is a big potluck of foods that don't go together but all of the Hargreeves favorite foods. You can tell exactly who brought what, and no one is surprised by the insane amount of take out you and Klaus brought. There's cocktails which are actually made with care instead of mixed up sloppily like a child making potions out of shampoo in the tub. 

It's around 11:25 when Klaus pulls you down the hall towards the guest room, shouting, “I am but a weary traveler! My Panacea and I need a respite before we keep entertaining you all!” which was met with rolling eyes and a few flinches at the abruptness of it all, but a steady fondness as the backdrop of it all.

Klaus drops to his knee the second the door is locked, and grabs your leg to hike it up. Your back comes to rest against the wall, jamming coats out of your way to get comfortable as he presses his plump lips to the shiny toe of your boot. His breath fans out, almost fogging the shiny fake leather of your boot before he starts kissing. He presses kisses from the tip of your toe up to where the arch of the side of your foot would be, then licks the rest of the way up to the ankle, moaning as he does so. A prayer, a promise, his devotion on display. This is Klaus wanting to be used, wanting to be objectified and made yours.

“I’m going to get famous again, baby.” He kisses the toe of your boot one more time before moving up and resting your foot on his bended knee. He pushes your skirt up, all the way to where your thigh meets your hip, and his hands are all over your leg as he speaks.

“Prophets gonna rise from the ashes, and this time I’m gonna build it all in your image,” his teeth rake the sheer tights at your calf, ripping at least one hole in them. They were new. “The whole worlds gonna worship you just like I do, fraulein.”

You’re halfway between a chuckle and a moan as one of his thumbs slides up into the back of your knee and the other presses a harsh circle to your inner thigh, right below where the panties of your lingerie begins, if you could even call them panties. They were a mess of mesh and lace that you saw in the mall and you just had to get them and their matching bra, even if now they seem a little gaudy. Klaus likes them, though, and got excited when you got dressed for tonight when he saw them laid out on the bed. He wanted to tear them off of you the moment he saw them, and he would do just that. His hand snakes its way up over your clothed cunt, making you groan at the contact, before he reaches the waistband of your tights and yanks them down  with your panties as far as he can, pulling them to where your boots prevent them from coming off, essentially giving Klaus control of how much you can move during this tryst. Its now that he puts your leg down, letting you stand up straight again in front of his bent figure.

“Hit me,” he begs. Klaus’ eyes are blown wide with lust, even in the dark.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hit me, slap me across the face,�� he begs again, “Make me hurt, tell me ‘Klaus I want you to bleed for me’ I’ll do it.”

He gets this way sometimes. Arousal floods your system in the same vein as concern. If Klaus wants to be hurt, he’s usually already hurting. 

“No, Klaus we don’t have time, let's talk about it,” You say, already sinking down onto your knees to join him, to cradle his face in your hands and to make him feel better.

“Doc, Doc there’s nothing wrong. I need relief. It's like, like a cure.Yeah. I’m hard as a rock, love, I need relief.”

Purely kinky. Consensual. If it's what Klaus wants, who are you to deny him of it? You rise up onto your feet again, preparing yourself to hit him. To Klaus, even in the darkness, he can make out that you look like something otherworldly, bigger and greater than human. You wind back, apprehensive but willing to do anything for him, something he recognizes not casually. As your open palm makes contact with his left cheek, a shuddering moan makes its way up from deep inside his stomach, out through his throat and past his lips orgasmic in execution. 

“Again, please.”

And you indulge him twice more, until you're sure the hot skin on his face is reddened. There's a certain kind of thrill in knowing that your hands will leave a mark on him, that he’ll enter a new decade with your hands printed on his visage. Those three slaps are good enough to sate him for now, as he rises back to his feet, pressing his lips to yours as his hands go straight to your hair, any semblance of style you had put to it would be out the window in seconds. He backs you against the door until you hit it, then you both start to slide to the floor. He guides you down gently, taking extra care to remember the tights holding your ankles hostage, and lays you down against the hardwood, the warmth of his old faux fur trim jacket like a blanket to cushion you as he pushes your skirt back up to your waist.

He bends you in half, pulling your legs up to meet your chest; your boots clanking together on his shoulder as he pushes into you, immediately filling you to the hilt. This angle is nothing short of divine for you both, your legs pressed together making you feel just that much tighter wrapped around Klaus’ cock, and the angle leaving you mercilessly open to his thrusting.

“This is the tightest, wettest little cunt I've ever had the pleasure of serving,” Klaus whispers as he pulls out and slams back into you before setting his pace.

 He's fast, working against the clock, and against every nerve ending in your body. You don't try to stifle the moans as his thrusts rock your entire body along the floor. He fucks like a man with a gun to his head, hitting you deep each time, a staccato of his name falling from your lips as he pants and growls in your ear. You feel your orgasm coming before you can warn him, and the spasming of your body surprises you both earth shattering, convulsing waves of pleasure hit you, and all you can do is cling to each other as it ruins you. The spasming of your muscles triggers him as well, and you can feel every drop of hot white cum that he shoots into you, filling you deep.

He kisses you, muttering little ‘I love you’s as he pulls out, gently pulling your thighs off his shoulder and pulling your panties up; rolling your ripped tights up with the utmost care and dedication before you reach for him again to help you stand, shaky knees and dizzy from his affections. Love drunk as well as martini drunk, ready to face midnight.

“Klaus, Klaus I need to find a restroom before we go back out there. I need to clean myself up.” You can already feel his sticky white dripping out of you, no doubt making an irreversible mess of those panties he liked so much. It would be uncomfortable to sit, to move unless you got to the bathroom and got yourself fixed up. Klaus whips back around to look at you as his hand grasps the doorknob.

“Don’t you dare, you venus in furs, let it be a reminder of what's going to happen when we get home.” there's pure evil in his tone and in his smile, “Plus, you'll miss midnight if you run off on me.”

He pulls the door open and leads you back out into the festivities.

[danielcooperrp]

Shake the House Down

“It’s a party.”

“I know that.”

“Really? Because the way you’re pacing suggests you think you’re headed for a firing squad.”

Drew makes a face at his boyfriend, who is lounging languidly on Drew’s bed. Drew, as Xander astutely noted, is pacing a line from the door to the window, wringing his hands. “Is it a big party?”

Xander tosses a hockey puck up into the air and catches it with a nonchalance that only exacerbates Drew’s anxiety. “Delta Lambda Phi can usually pull a crowd. It’s the queer frat, so it’ll probably pull people from the other universities in town.”

There is some comfort in knowing that the party Xander wants them to go to is being thrown by a queer fraternity. When Drew thinks “frat bro,” he doesn’t exactly think of friends. And Drew grew up in queer spaces, raised by queer parents—a house full of people like him should be fine. 

He stops his pacing to look at Xander. “Do you...never mind.” He starts pacing again. 

“Ah ah ah.” Xander hauls himself off of the bed to stand in front of Drew. Drew is actually only an inch shorter than his boyfriend, but because Xander is so much larger, the height difference feels much more dramatic. “Talk to me, Cooper. What is your brain whizzing about?”

“Well...” Drew doesn’t meet his gaze. “Do you know a lot of people who are going to be there?”

“Uh, sure, I guess. Some people from Pride, this very funny lesbian from my microeconomics class, and a bunch of people from the frat...”

“No, I mean...you know. Exes.”

There’s a pause, and then Xander bursts out laughing. “Cooper...” Xander wraps his arms around Drew. Warmth floods Drew’s body, right down to his toes. “You are worrying for nothing. I’m excited for everyone to meet you, my very smart, very sexy, very silly boyfriend. Will some of my exes be there? Maybe. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m there with you. If you’ll go with me.”

Drew nods into his chest. Then he looks up. “Just promise not to make out with some guy in the bathroom.”

“Mmm, no shot.” Drew’s eyebrows furrow. “I am definitely making out with at least one guy while I’m there.” Then he grins and presses his lips to Drew’s.

_____

The frat house looks like any other brownstone littering the streets of Boston, except for the ten-foot cardboard cut-out of a pop star that Drew is sure he’s supposed to know but can’t remember the name of. As they walk up, the music is pounding, and Drew instinctually wants to go apologize to the neighbors.

Xander convinced him to dress down for the evening—apparently sweaters and collared shirts are not the prescribed attire for such an affair—so Drew is in a plain white T-shirt that fits more snugly than he’s used to and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Xander’s even more relaxed in 70s-style basketball shorts and a mesh tank top. He had tried to coax Drew into something similar, but gave up when he saw the panic in Drew’s face at the sigh of hot pink boyshorts. Besides, Drew couldn’t help but notice the way Xander’s eyes and hands kept gravitating toward his butt in these jeans. 

As soon as they’re inside, they’re swarmed with people, but in a rare occurrence for Drew, they’re not interested in him. Xander is being pulled in every direction by the most colorful group of drunk folks he’s ever seen. 

“Is that Alexander?”

“We though you died, where have you been—”

“The boy catches a few touchdowns and it’s out with the queers—”

“—those shorts, now I know why they call you tight end—”

“—not that I’m trying to play into stereotypes, sweetie, but the sink has been dripping for days—”

Drew can barely hear the fawning over the music, so he looks around at the party. It’s wall-to-wall people with the most eclectic fashion senses ever gathered under one roof: evening gowns and body glitter and flannel and sleeve tattoos and undercuts and lots and lots of naked skin. Somehow, Xander extract himself from his welcoming committee and pulls Drew by the hand into a room with some IKEA couches and an enormous fish tank.

“Sorry about that,” he says, voice raised to compete with the music. “I have been around as much. I guess they noticed.”

“Why haven’t you been around?”

Xander fixes his gaze on Drew. “I met a guy.” Drew flushes. “Now come on, let me show you off.”

_____

Xander tours Drew around, introducing him to what feels like every queer person under 25 in Boston. He’s careful to use his first name only, for which Drew is grateful; the last thing he needs is someone making a family connection right now. 

After a hour or so, they’re in the kitchen, each with a Solo cup in hand. Drew doesn’t exactly know what he’s drinking, but the taste isn’t objectionable, and he’s two cups in and feeling a little looser than usual. Xander squeezes his hand and says in his ear, “You mind if I leave you here for a minute? They really want me to take a look at their bathroom sink?”

Drew makes a face. “What did say about making out with guys in the bathroom?”

Xander grins. “Only you, Cooper.” He kisses Drew’s neck, which sends a thrill down his spine, and disappears into the crowd.

Drew drifts around the kitchen, peeking into cabinets, grabbing food off of plates that keep floating in and out of the room. He gets himself another cup of whatever alcoholic drink is in the bowl on the counter, and when he turns to walk away, someone is there, smiling at him. 

“Hi.”

“Um, hi.” Drew is pretty sure that this guy, blonde with deeply tanned skin, is not one of the myriad people he’s already been introduced to. This guy is looking at Drew in a way that feels foreign.

“I’m Mark.”

“Drew.” He starts to edge away, but Mark deftly steps in front of him.

“Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh. I’m new. I mean, to the...fraternity...party...scene...” His ears redden in embarrassment.

“Well then, tonight’s your lucky night.” Marks takes a step forward and bends to whisper in Drew’s ear. “I’d love to show you a good time.”

Drew freezes, unsure what to do. He hates conflict with all of his being, but he doesn't know how to get out of this situation. There are people everywhere, but no one is paying attention to the quiet kid in the corner. As his eyes scan the room for a face he recognizes, he feels a hand on his butt, and his entire body jolts. 

He remember something his father told him before he left for college. I want you to have fun, and I want you to discover all of the secrets of yourself. But please remember that some people are going to see how quiet you are, and they are going to think that you belong to them. I don’t care what you have to do or who you have to do it to—you have to let them know that you don’t.

The ground begins to shake beneath him, slow at first, and then more violently. His head is swimmy but he manages to shove Mark back. 

“What the fuck?” Mark splutters.

The ground is shaking even more now; the bowl of whatever drink vibrates off of the counter and onto the floor. People start to scream and clamor for the exits, but no one notices Drew, hands balled into fists at his sides, staring down some douche in a tank top and jean cutoffs. 

Someone barrels into the kitchen. “Cooper?” Xander pauses to take stock of the tableau before him. “Oh, fuck.” He checks marks out of the way to stand in front of Drew. “Cooper? Cooper, come on, it’s okay.” He catches Drew’s eyes. “Look at me, Hey. You gotta stop the shaking before someone gets hurt.”

Drew closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. After a minute, the earth settles into silence. Drew opens his eyes. “I’m so—”

“Hang on.” Xander whips around to glower at Mark, who shrinks back. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought everyone made it clear that you weren’t gonna set foot in this building after what you did last spring.”

Mark feigns boldness with a scoff. “Whatever. Take your mutant boy, I don’t want any part of that shit.”

Xander takes a threatening step forward and Mark scurries off. Then he turns back to Drew. “What did he—”

“Nothing. That was stupid. I was stupid.” He feels like he could sleep for days.

“Mark is a creep who likes trolling parties for freshman boys. Delta Lambda Phi banned him a long time ago, but...Drew, I’m so sorry.”

Drew shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Xander looks like he wants to argue, but he puts an arm around Drew’s shoulder and pulls him in close. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He steers him toward the back door, where he fewer people had run out.

“I’m sorry for ruining the party,” Drew mumbles, eyes sliding shut.

A pair of lips press into the crown of his head. “You could never ruin anything, Drew.”