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Klaus Hargreeves did not believe in love at first sight.
Klaus Hargreeves didn't believe in a lot of things, really. The war he was fighting in, all organized religions he had thus far encountered, heroes, a man offering free drugs (it was never free) (he still took them, though). Love at first sight. Love at all, really.
(I mean, Klaus would say that he loved his siblings, of course. He loved them in the way you love… one of your organs. You don't really think about them, often you treat them very badly, but you'd be more than a little upset to lose them. He loved his siblings in a sort of Stockholm Syndrome way, born of being kidnapped and abused together. Sharing trauma the way other families shared genetics. He loved his siblings, but sometimes he didn't truly believe that they loved him back, or that he deserved it if they did. He loved his siblings, but he would and has hurt them to serve his own interests. He's stolen from them, he's lied to them, abused their familial guilt for a place to stay, or a ride, or a loan he’d never pay back. He loved his siblings, but never more than he loved himself. And they had almost thirty years of history to get them there.)
So, Klaus absolutely did not believe in love at first sight. What he did believe was that something in him - something in his mind or his chest or his heart or his soul- something shifted, when he landed hard on a dirt packed floor, fresh off of two days of torture and an unexpected trip through time and space, and locked eyes with a man he should have never met.
The first time Klaus kissed Dave (or had Dave kissed Klaus? They were pulled together so strongly it was hard to say who leaned in first and who met who in the middle), he momentarily forgot how to breathe. His world focused down to the parts of him that were touching parts of Dave - Dave's fingertips on his cheek, his bottom lip slotted in between Klaus'. Klaus' thumb and wrist bumping against Dave's hip, Klaus' left thigh and Dave's right, pressed together lightly. He felt off-kilter and lightheaded, and he would have blamed the unfamiliar drugs in his blood, but then it happened every time and Klaus realized it was just Dave. It was kissing Dave.
The first time they slept together wasn't a euphemism. They bussed out overnight, headlights out, the jungle thick and cloying around them. Dozens of grown men all packed together in a yellow school bus, trying to sleep while they could.
Klaus and Dave had removed their helmets, and dozed off angled towards each other, heads tipped together and shoulders barely brushing. When Klaus woke up, Dave had hooked his fingers into the open cargo pocket on Klaus' pants. Klaus shifted, laying his own hands across his lap so that he could feel the heat of Dave's fingers against his. The touch shot a sharp thrill through his stomach - he had never felt so much over something so mundane.
Klaus had spent his entire life simultaneously touch-starved and touch-blind. Touch was a complicated thing when the only parent who loved you was made up of wires and steel covered in lifeless synthetic skin. When you were discouraged from hugging your siblings, but knew exactly what it felt like to have them punch you in the face without holding back. When you were plagued by mangled corpses who wanted to touch you, who tried and tried, and always succeeded in your nightmares, tearing you apart.
As Klaus grew up, as he ventured outside of the academy, touch meant lust or violence. It could be a transaction or a negotiation. A bribe or a peace offering. A bad night itching for a fight and not caring who he picked it with, or a bad night feeling lost and alone and just wanting a warm body to distract him from it. He let strangers touch him for money or drugs or a ripped up arrest report. He touched acquaintances to flirt, to deflect, to distract, to manipulate. He threw an arm over another drunk in a bar, he clung to his siblings like an octopus the rare times he saw them, he slid stealthy hands into pockets and left again undetected, fingers holding onto both body heat and wallets. Every touch had an underlying purpose - often nefarious - but he craved them just the same.
But on a bus full of soldiers fighting a losing war, under the thrill of secrecy and the high of a new relationship, just the warmth of Dave's fingers against his own, through the fabric of his standard issued pants- flooded Klaus with a feeling that was nearly overwhelming. It was a touch Klaus wanted to hold on to, and have again and again and again.
The first time Klaus and Dave slept together, Klaus expected to take the lead. He knew without asking that he had more experience than Dave did. Sexually speaking, he had more experience than nearly everyone he knew, much less this sweet, Midwestern gay boy serving in the US Army in 1968. He knew he could show Dave things he had never even heard of, things that would blow his mind. He could make him feel good in ways Dave had never even imagined, nevermind experienced.
Klaus expected to push Dave down onto a bed (a chair, a floor, a pile of jungle leaves - he wasn't really picky) and crawl on top of him. Klaus expected to feel confident, to know that he was in his element. To utilize clever fingers and a clever tongue, to strip the other man of his clothes and his nerves. (He expected Dave to be nervous. Dave, who looked like he was giving himself a pep talk just to talk to Klaus at a bar when he was already the best friend Klaus had ever had. Dave, whose ears turned red whenever Klaus whispered something dirty into them. Klaus expected Dave to be nervous and he expected himself to fuck the nerves out of him.)
What actually happened was Dave looked at Klaus. He looked at him and his face was so… soft. So fond. His pupils were blown and his skin was flushed, but he didn't look at Klaus with naked lust - with a ferocious hunger, a set to his jaw like he wanted to own him. He looked at Klaus like he could barely believe he existed, like he would be happy just to look at him, fully clothed and five inches apart, for the rest of the night. Dave looked at Klaus like he… well.
What actually happened was Dave laid gentle fingertips on Klaus' jaw. What actually happened was Dave guided their mouths together, bodies following, until they were molded into each other, standing just inside their motel room door. What actually happened was Dave's wide palms settled, one on Klaus' waist, one cradling the back of his head, fingers gently kneading while he kissed him, soft and slow and full of feeling where Klaus had expected teeth.
Dave pulled away from the kiss, just far enough to rest his forehead against Klaus'. Klaus closed his eyes against the sweetness of the gesture while Dave softly asked - asked - "Bed?" And then waited for Klaus to nod before guiding him to it, walking backwards. The backs of Dave's legs hit the mattress first and he eased down so he was sitting on it, tugging at Klaus' waist until he followed, straddling Dave's lap while Dave tilted his chin up for another soft, slow, sweet kiss.
Klaus impatiently ground down on Dave's lap, trying to steer himself to something he was more familiar with. Dave gasped, pulling air in from Klaus' mouth, before wrapping his arms around Klaus' middle, hugging him close, nuzzling into his neck. Klaus could feel Dave's eyelashes blink rapidly against the pulse in his throat. He felt Dave's hands, warm and calloused and long-fingered and lovely, sweep up his back, under his shirt. Dave pressed and dragged his fingertips, circled his thumbs, driving out the anxious buzzing energy and turning Klaus soft and pliant. 'Relaxed' had never been a word Klaus associated with sex, and Dave seemed intent on changing that.
They returned to kissing, a slow drag of lips on lips as easy and natural as breathing. Dave's tongue swept into Klaus' mouth and Klaus wondered what he tasted like to Dave. Dave tasted like whiskey, and lemongrass, and cheap Vietnamese cigarettes. His mouth was warm, his lips soft, if slightly chapped. Klaus carded his hands through Dave's hair, finger-combing out dirty blond curls, releasing them back slightly messier, somehow even more endearing.
'If we could make babies, they'd have the curliest hair.' Klaus thought to himself, his chest bubbling with delight at the sheer absurdity of the thought.
Klaus leaned back in Dave's lap, circling his hips just a little, pleased when Dave arched up to meet him. He crossed his arms over himself, grasping the hem of his (purposely undersized) yellow shirt, tugging it up and off in one smooth motion. Dave smiled at him, all teeth and eye crinkles and everything Midwestern and wholesome (an impressive feat for a man with a lapful of half-naked, horny twink).
"I was going to do that." He protested, not very convincingly.
"Hmmm, get me next time." Klaus smiled back, now working on the buttons of Dave's checked short-sleeve. He had only made it halfway down when Dave copied his own movements, pulling the shirt up and off.
Klaus had seen Dave shirtless more times than he could count, at this point. Sleeping in the tents, boots on, but shirt pulled off and tossed over his rifle barrel. Filling sandbags, sweaty and flushed in the oppressive jungle heat. Washing hurriedly with twenty of their closest friends. The first time Klaus had opened his eyes in Vietnam circa 19-fucking-68, and locked gazes across the few feet fate had left between them. It was a sight he would never tire of, but one he had never been able to reach out and touch before.
Now, he could run his hands over golden skin and perfectly defined muscles. He could dip his fingertips into the hollow of Dave's throat, he could rest his palm against his chest and feel his heartbeat, he could thumb across his nipples and feel the tissue there stiffen. Klaus wanted to memorize every freckle and see if they all tasted the same. He wanted to suck marks into the slight dip of Dave's waist and drag the tip of his nose down the fine trail of hair that started just under his navel. But first, Klaus just wanted to press against him. He wanted to feel that unique, full feeling of two chests pressed together. To feel Dave's belly move against his when he breathed. To try to coax their hearts into synchronizing so he could always hear Dave's pulse in his own ears. Klaus shifted ever-so-slightly forward, pulling Dave in with insistent hands on his shoulder blades. He pressed into Dave and held on tight, a column of warmth against his front. He was a little taller here, given the height boost of being up on his knees, and he used this advantage to nip at Dave's earlobe, gently tonguing just behind it, teasing at a patch of skin he knew was more often than not impossibly sensitive. Dave moaned, soft on an exhale. His hands found their way down and around to cup Klaus' ass, trying to pull him closer. When he realized they couldn’t actually get any closer, he used his grip to flip them around, and Klaus found himself flat on his back on the bed with Dave poised above him, smiling down.
"Knew you were a top." Klaus smirked, kicking off his shoes and shimmying up the mattress so his legs were no longer hanging off the edge. Dave followed after, pausing to reach back and pull off his own shoes before settling between Klaus' legs, dropping his head down for another kiss. God, Klaus didn't think he had kissed this much since he was a teenager, making out with older boys and girls in empty parks and the fire escape outside his bedroom.
"I think… Klaus, I think I might be in love with you." Dave said the words softly, pulled back so he was hovering over Klaus, looking at him with so much sincerity and earnest affection that the breath was punched right out of Klaus, his thoughts gone fuzzy and white like Dave had found some new erogenous zone, touched Klaus somewhere he'd never been touched before but immediately wanted to be touched again. (This was, of course, impossible. Klaus knew all of his own zones, his skin thoroughly mapped by his own hands and the hundreds of hands that had dragged and prodded and coaxed pleasure out of him before. There was no territory of Klaus Hargreeves that remained uncharted, and yet here he was, undone by a handful of words given away like Dave really meant them.) Klaus didn't know what to do with that, with the feeling it gave him, so he pulled Dave's face down, tried to respond with his lips and his tongue and the pads of his fingers against Dave's scalp in a language he hoped Dave spoke, or at least understood. He bent his knees, wrapping one leg around Dave's thigh, pulling him in, dragging the hard line down the front of Dave's pants across the aching want in his own. A quick jolt of pleasure zipped through Klaus at the contact, like energy arcing between a socket and a plug. Sharp and fast and lighting up electric blue and white hot. Klaus scratched his blunt nails through the short hairs on the back of Dave's head, down his neck and shoulders, stopping the squeeze at his biceps, flexed where Dave was still holding himself up.
Klaus moaned as Dave pressed against him again, this time unprompted, and quickly repeated again, and again, until Klaus had to pull their mouths apart, crane his neck back on a whine.
"Pants." He demanded, dropping one hand to paw lightly at Dave's belt. He felt the teeth of Dave's grin against his exposed throat, followed by lips and tongue.
"Patience." Dave answered, lips still on Klaus' skin.
Patience, Jesus. Patience was not something Klaus particularly cared for. He lived a life of instant gratification, everything searing and hard and fast, and most importantly, now . Later was a luxury for people with something to live for, people who treated their bodies like they'd ever see the other side of 30. He'd never even managed to pass that stupid marshmallow test when he was a kid, small and impatient and endlessly experimented on.
Dave kissed and licked and sucked a trail of faint purpling marks, a map drawn on skin that the Vietnam sun had darkened to a pale olive, writing out directions on how to bring Klaus to a shuddering mess. And shuddering he was, head cloudy, lungs compressed under the weight of the sheer desire he had for the soldier mouthing at the jut of his hip bone. He wanted Dave more than he'd ever wanted anything, save a hit. He wanted to take him into his body, wanted Dave to leave marks, to shape Klaus new so only he would ever fit right again. He wanted Dave, and he wanted to keep him, and the feeling scared him shitless. Klaus had never really had anything he could keep before. He wanted Dave to touch him, to fuck him, to drive those thoughts and feelings back for just a little bit, to fill his body and empty his head.
As if he could read his mind, like he was born a psychic on the first of October twenty years from now, Dave dragged a hand lightly across Klaus' lap, pressing the heel of his palm into the base of Klaus' cock, tearing Klaus away from any and all thoughts and into mindless sensation. Surprisingly deftly (maybe he wasn't all that wholesome, after all), Dave flicked open the button of Klaus' pants with one hand, still mouthing at his hip, scraping teeth where the skin was thinnest and most sensitive. He dragged the zipper down, pushing aside the slackened fabric. Dave actually let out a small noise of surprise, lifting his head from Klaus' side with his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline when his fingers immediately brushed across silky skin where he had expected to feel underwear.
"Seemed more efficient." Klaus managed to quip, propping himself up on his elbows to smirk down at Dave, giving him an exaggerated wink. Dave huffed a laugh before leaning over Klaus' lap, swirling his tongue over the tip of him, making Klaus drop back down to the bed with a gasp and a drawn out "Fuuuuuuuuck," reaching up to bury his hands in his own hair.
Klaus shimmied his hips as Dave eased his pants down his thighs, wiggling in ways meant to help get the fabric off faster, to lessen the space between them by a few millimeters. The thump as they slid to the floor felt loud enough that the entire hotel must know what they were up to, but Klaus hardly cared. He was finally, finally naked under Dave's hands. He would gladly have been in the middle of the mess tent at dinnertime, naked on top of their captain's desk, on the cold stone floor of the mausoleum to feel those hands finally on his skin.
Not to mention Dave's mouth, his wet, hot mouth, surrounding Klaus, feeling like nothing he'd ever felt before. Realistically speaking, Klaus had had more skillful blowjobs. But he'd never been as enamoured by the person on the other end of the mouth, and honestly, it was probably killing him, his brain firing off in ways he doubted he'd ever come back from. Dave pushed himself down on Klaus another inch, a moan vibrating his throat and Klaus nearly shot off the bed.
"Fuck, Dave, David, Dave," he babbled, tapping frantically on Dave's shoulder. "God, baby, stop, I refuse to come before you even have your pants off."
Dave released him with a laugh, his eyes sparkling and happy as they found Klaus'.
"You refuse? I'm no expert, Hargreeves, but that sounds like a challenge.”
"Oh, don't you dare." Klaus bent a knee to plant his foot on Dave's shoulder, pushing the other man away to more laughter. "Take your goddamn pants off and fuck me, or I'll never forgive you. Making me act like I'm goddamn thirteen or something, fuck."
"You never warned me that you were such a romantic."
"Shut up."
"Insubordinate." Dave smirked, but eased back onto the floor, dropping his pants and boxers in one fluid motion.
No clothes between them now, the men took a moment to simply gaze at each other, drinking in miles of skin both familiar and new. Dave's skin was paler below his waistline, less golden, less often bared to the sun. The hair, both on his legs and between them, was slightly less blond. Klaus' fingers itched to touch it, see if it was soft, like the hair on his head, or stiff and wiry.
Dave's eyes were lingering similarly across Klaus' body where he was sprawled across the bed. Klaus curled his toes into the blankets, caught between preening and shying away. He was hardly shy with his body, but he never really cared how people saw it, before. He realized he really wanted Dave to like what he saw.
"C'mere." Klaus finally commanded, holding out a hand, beckoning Dave to crawl over him, into him. The room felt cold without the heat of Dave's body pressed up against his own. Klaus shivered.
Dave wasted no time complying, linking his fingers with the ones Klaus had stretched between them. He slid into place between Klaus' legs, upper body braced above him, clasped hands pressed into the mattress next to Klaus' head.
"Hi." Dave smiled, face inches from Klaus'. Klaus giggled, lifting his free hand in a little wave. Hello.
He pulled Dave down, already missing all the kissing they had been doing earlier. Klaus buried his fingers in the curls on the top of Dave's head, opening his mouth to him, wrapping his legs around Dave's waist and pulling him flush, pressing their bodies together, urging Dave closer than close. They moaned into each other's mouths, hips pushing and finding a rhythm together, skin pressing and dragging, heat gathering until sweat and precum built up between their bodies, leaving them sliding, slick and warm against each other.
"Dave. Dave, please." Klaus gasped his boyfriend's name, eyes shut tight while Dave dragged his teeth across Klaus' throat.
"Please what, darling?"
"Please stop being such a dick."
Dave laughed at the petulance in Klaus' voice, before pushing himself off the bed, coming back a moment later with a little bottle, which he wasted no time in tipping over his fingers, coating them thickly and spiking an almost clinical scent into the air. Klaus raised his eyebrows at Dave as the other man settled back over him.
"What kind of boy scout trick is this? Actual lube? Here I was thinking coconut oil, if we were feeling fancy."
Dave smirked, running the tips of his slicked up fingers lightly over the delicate skin covering Klaus' balls, biting his lip at the noises the action drew. "One of those boom boom girls you were chatting up earlier cornered me and gave it to me. Told me she likes you, so I better use the whole bottle."
Klaus laughed out loud, planting both hands on Dave's shoulders, squeezing reflexively at the corded muscle there. "Well, better not disappoint her."
"Better not." Dave agreed, sliding his hand back, lightly circling before gently pressing just the tip of his middle finger in. Klaus' breathing hitched as he shifted his hips, trying to draw Dave's fingers closer, further, deeper where he wanted them. Was past wanting them - needed them. Klaus had never considered himself a needy lover, but this one night, pressed into a cheap mattress under the weight of Dave's body, was aiming to change everything he thought he knew about himself and his sexuality. He whined, high and reedy and nearly embarrassing when Dave pulled back, obviously teasing him.
Dave kissed the whine from Klaus' throat, feeling the vibration of it against his lips as he pressed a single finger into Klaus about halfway, just enough the crook and stroke, feeling out the hot, silky vice of his body. Klaus tried yet again to force Dave further, pushing back against the digit, hips stuttering, lifting, twisting. Dave finally took pity on him, pulling back, but adding a second finger, pushing the two into Klaus slowly, steadily, until he couldn't push them in any further.
Dave hadn't had as much sex as Klaus had, not by a long shot, but he had had enough to know that if he shifted his wrist, if he bent his fingers in just the right way-
"Fuck! Oh, oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dave, yeah, fuck, again, please, Dave, Dave, Dave." Klaus babbled, eyes shooting open, hands scrabbling over Dave's shoulders and upper back.
Dave was happy to oblige, moving his fingers in the same way over and over, watching the flush creep down Klaus' chest, his eyes roll back into his head. He deftly added a third finger, just to watch while Klaus' eyes widened before going soft and hazy again.
When Klaus started tugging on Dave's shoulders with his hands, pulling his waist in with knees squeezed tightly on either side of it, Dave was so achingly hard, so lost in the feel of Klaus' body that he didn't even pause to tease or smirk, just pulled his hand away from the heat between Klaus' legs, fumbled with the bottle of lube to slick himself up, and lined them up together. He would have visually checked in, but Klaus had his face pressed into Dave's chest, was chanting "Please, please, please, please" breathlessly, so instead Dave just pushed forward, slowly, inch by torturous inch, until he was fully seated inside of Klaus, who had dropped his head back, exposing the long, sweaty column of his neck, his mouth gaped open, eyes wide, hazy, and blind. Dave paused to catch his breath, to adjust to the feeling of Klaus - beautiful, strange, enigmatic Klaus - wrapped around him hot and tight and absolutely perfect.
Klaus started moving first, his skin prickling, needing to feel the friction drag of Dave inside of him, lighting up every nerve ending, every synapse in his brain. Dave slid his arms under Klaus' back, able to hold him while balancing the majority of his weight on his forearms, shifting his legs to build up leverage, pulling Klaus into him as he thrust forward. Klaus was beautifully vocal, letting gasps and moans, sighs and curses all spill from his lips in a breathy voice half a pitch higher than normal, sounding both undone and destroyed. Like he was lost but also exactly where he needed to be.
Dave, who had never found himself particularly chatty during sex, was babbling too, a stream of pet names and praises. Calling Klaus sweetheart, darling, love, baby, baby, baby. Sweetheart, you feel so good, I've wanted you so long, baby, God, yes, baby, darling, Klaus. He could feel the pleasure coiling deep in his abdomen, building and spreading and he pulled one hand out from under Klaus' back, reaching down between them only to be swatted frantically away, Klaus' voice broken and almost whiney.
"Mmm, no, wait, I can come like this. I’m close, just, just go harder, God, Dave, just a little harder. I'm so close, I'm so close…"
Dave didn't know if it was possible to push into Klaus any harder than he already was, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try. He pulled his knees under himself, shifting Klaus' hips up until they were essentially in his lap, wrapping his one arm right around his boyfriend’s impossibly tiny waist. Klaus pulled his legs into his chest, leaving Dave to effectively press him in half. Dave slammed into Klaus, long, hard thrusts that punched the air from Klaus' lungs on little cries as his vision slowly whited out. Dave had one hand free, and he used it to cup the side of Klaus' face, thumb stroking his cheek. Klaus' hand flew up to grasp Dave's wrist as his whole body tensed, back arching like a bow before shaking violently as he came, splashing hot and wet onto the skin of Dave's stomach and chest. Dave fucked him through it, easing off when Klaus' muscles finally released, dropping his legs back to the bed.
"Don't stop." Klaus commanded, squeezing the wrist he still had in his grip. "I want you to come in me, keep going." He insisted before Dave could protest. His words went straight to the base of Dave's spine, adding to the pressure that had been building since the moment he pushed himself into Klaus' body. Dave let his head fall forward, catching Klaus' lips, slightly off center, kissing him desperately as he picked up a pace slightly less punishing than the one that sent Klaus over the edge moments before. Klaus kissed back enthusiastically, messily, their mouths moving together with a complete lack of finesse, just desire and pleasure, uncoordinated lips and sloppy tongues. Dave moaned into it, whimpering against Klaus' mouth, lips trying to kiss and breathe and form Klaus' name all at the same time. He snapped his hips forward one final time, muscles straining to push himself even deeper, to get even closer, to spill far enough inside of Klaus that he'd always be a part of him. The swell of his orgasm washed over him like a wave, pulling Dave down in the undertow. He was more than willing to let himself drown in it, but it eventually ebbed and settled, leaving him breathless and far from shore. The muscles in his arm were cramping, he was still holding Klaus tightly against him, his knees felt like water. It was all he could do not to simply let his strength float away with the wave and drop down right on top of Klaus.
Klaus kissed him again, softly, reminding Dave that their mouths were still pressed together. He ran his nails lightly over the back of Dave's hand, which was still cupped against his face.
"I won't break." He murmured, tugging on Dave's waist, urging him to let go, let his entire weight settle down, despite their difference in size. While Dave had his doubts that Klaus was as unbreakable as he seemed to think he was, he figured he trusted him enough to tap out if he was being smothered, and let him take his weight, all but collapsing on top of him. Klaus hummed contentedly, wrapping one arm around Dave's back and squeezing, petting through his sweaty curls with his other hand.
"So…" Dave started conversationally, eyes closed against Klaus' petting. "This is going to get awkward." Klaus stilled for a moment, his "Oh?" high, but quiet. He cleared his throat, going back to playing with Dave's hair. "How so?"
"Well, there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my hands off of you, now that I know what this is like." Dave smiled, pleased with his teasing. "Someone's bound to notice us sneaking off to fuck in the jungle every night... and morning... afternoon... early evening..."
Klaus laughed at that, loud and sharp, tugging at Dave's hair the same way. He craned his neck, nipping hard at Dave's shoulder for good measure. "Oh, I'm sure we can figure something out." He assured him.
And then Dave laughed, and turned his head to bite Klaus back, quick and playful and just incredibly happy, and something in Klaus’ chest or head or heart or soul, something that had shifted months ago clicked into place.
Klaus did not believe in love at first sight, but in a shitty motel room, pressed down under Dave’s weight, he realized that he loved him, and that it wasn’t new. It was a feeling he couldn't remember not having, as long as they had known each other. As long as he had existed. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t fallen in love with Dave - not at first sight, and certainly not just now in the afterglow of their first time. He just… was. It was a part of him, like having green eyes, or curly hair, or just suddenly existing, fully formed, inside the womb of a woman who had not made him.
Klaus Hargreeves did not believe in love at first sight. And he still doesn't. Because somehow he knows, he knows, that he loved Dave Katz long before he ever saw him.