chuyuri

Thu, 21 Jul 2005 07:01:27 GMT

I present to you...the first ever Greta x Beatrice fanfic.

...Don't hurt me.

Untitled
Author: Chu
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Greta x Beatrice

He was only mildly satisfied to see his husband jump at the sound of the door slamming open. When large, startled brown doe-eyes turned on him, Wolfram twitched; Yuuri looked so confused, he almost lost his resolve.

"This is all your fault!" He spat it out before he could rethink his decision, and didn't even give Yuuri time to respond before he continued, "Our daughter is dressed like a paperboy!"

Yuuri only stared at him for a moment, then blinked, and turned so that he was completely facing the blonde boy. His arms came up and crossed, expression now a little agitated, and replied, "What's wrong with that? Don't tell me Shinmakoku looks down on tomboys?"

"Tom what? Who the hell is Tom?!"

Yuuri's eyes widened a fraction, and he squeaked as he realized that Wolfram's misunderstanding had once again led to blind jealousy and provoked the blonde's possessive nature.

His husband advanced on him, slowly, then pounced.

"Nooo!"

Greta swaggered away from her parent's room, an absolutely devious smirk on her face. Well, that took care of them for the next hour or so-- while she cringed at the thought of her dads having sex, even more mortified knowing she intentionally brought it about, it was best that she get them occupied and, more importantly, away from her.

She touched the brim of her cap self-consciously, pulling it off and shaking her head to disrupt short brown strands of hair. Wolfram had attempted to put some order to the unruly mess before charging in on his husband, and Greta didn't exactly share his taste.

The cap was replaced and she tucked a hand in her pants pocket as she strode down the steps to the garden, where she knew her visitor would be waiting.

Of course, she figured it was typical of her parents to react the way they did. Ever since she turned thirteen, and started filling out in places they didn't even seem to realize she had, Wolfram and Yuuri hadn't known how to act. Even now, four years later and three cups larger, they still wanted to see her as the cute eight-year-old girl they first brought home. Not the seventeen year old who dressed in old slacks and a worn button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

It didn't bother her. Sometimes she missed being eight, too.

She found Beatrice seated by the terrace, on one of the cement benches that Greta found no use for. They weren't really comfortable enough to sit on; Wolfram would argue that they were durable, but all Greta saw was a lump of sedament that was best left in the ground.

She didn't try to conceal her presence, but she didn't announce it, either, making her way to the other girl nonchalantly.

Beatrice, who'd been her friend since she was young, had grown into a stunning woman. She still kept her hair in those ridiculously childish pigtails occasionally, but today she left it down, blonde strands cascading down her back. Greta eyed an expanse of milk-white skin left open and vulnerable by an off-the-shoulder dress, and as she approached, swept Beatrice's hair away from her face with one smooth motion and dipped down to place a soft kiss just underneath her ear.

"Hi." She purred, and her voice was soft and smooth and sensual, familiar and dark, like rich coffee beans. Tanned arms snaked around Beatrice's shoulders, fingertips teasing the other girl's skin right before it disappeared underneath her dress.

Beatrice turned her head and smiled, that gentle, womanly simper she was so good at. Her lover had never found a reason to abandon her noble breeding, all manners and pretty dresses and ballroom dancing, but never asked Greta to do the same. It was a relief to know that the rumors of the King's daughter being rather rowdy and impolite didn't seem to affect Beatrice at all; thinking about it, Greta never once recalled where the subject had even come up.

"Hello. Did you manage to distract them?" The blonde leaned her forehead against Greta's, her hand coming up and slightly behind her to rest on the taller girl's shoulder.

"Yeah, but only for a while." Greta pulled back and rounded the bench, plopping down gracelessly on the dirt with her knees bent and spread. She rested her elbows on them, so that her forearms dangled between them.

"What do you think you're doing? Come, sit next to me." Beatrice slid over, making room for Greta, but the dark-skinned girl merely scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"No matter how pretty you look, there's no way you're gunna make that spot look appealing to me. I don't wanna wake up tomorrow with a sore ass." She grimaced at the thought.

"So you're just going to sit down there the whole time I'm here?" Beatrice's eyes narrowed as she grinned, coy. "You're really not even going to sit with me?"

"Nope." Greta tipped her head down so that the brim of her cap nearly kept her eyes from view. "Not up there, anyway."

There was the rustle of fine fabrics against hard concrete as Beatrice stood, then gingerly stepped over Greta's knees when the seated girl moved her arms, and settled into her lover's lap. Greta almost asked if the blonde was really okay with sitting on the ground and dirtying her clothes, until the familiar scent of her girlfriend assaulted her and she found herself with her face buried in Beatrice's neck. Lanky arms were tossed around the smaller girl, one over her shoulder and another at her waist, and Greta took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Do you plan on going to that formal dance crap my dads arranged?"

There was a tender kiss pressed to her cheek, and then: "It would be awfully rude if I didn't attend, the ball is being thrown in my father's honor. But..." There was a teasing gleam in her eyes as Beatrice pretended to think. "With all this bustling about and the preparations, I fear I may come down with a headache ten minutes after I arrive."

"I'll leave my door unlocked." A soft palm pressed to Beatrice's cheek, and Greta kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder, open-mouthed and firm. The girl in her lap exhaled unsteadily, as Greta's hand slid down her face, then down the opposite side of her neck, and then stopped just over her breast.

Beatrice whimpered quietly, head bowed, and Greta placed a soft kiss on the curve of her shoulder, then another under her jaw, while her other hand crept underneath the hem of the blonde's dress and slowly up her thigh. The smaller of the two finally grabbed both sides of Greta's face and kissed her mouth, lips parting easily as the dark-haired girl teased them with her tongue. Greta's hand abandoned the other girl's breast and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deeper--

"You could at least try to be a little more understanding! She's seventeen years old, and she can dress however she wants as long as she wears a dress to formal occasions and I will NOT have her showing up tonight--" The sound of footsteps fell silent, while Yuuri's mouth fell open.

Beatrice pulled away, and two pairs of people stared at each other in shock.

"...This is all YOUR fault!" Wolfram stormed off, and Yuuri was left there stuttering before following his husband helplessly.

grumbles

Thu, 21 Jul 2005 00:31:45 GMT

I've been having a hard time writing lately; no inspiration, and everything I do write I end up hating.

Same goes here.

I actually didn't want to post this, but one of my friends bugged me until I did. You can all blame her for this. >_<

Anyway, I know better than to post anything on the Sukisyo comm anymore. I'd get more comments if I kept it in a private entry in my own journal. -_-

Title: None.
Author: Chu
Genre: SAP AND CHEESE
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Shinichirou x Nanami
Summary: Porn, Dr. Suess-style.

Nanami liked being kissed.

He liked soft, loving kisses pressed to his jaw, and firmer ones on the juncture of neck and shoulder. He liked the slippery, moist meeting of lips and teeth and tongue, long and passionate or soft and chaste. He liked sweet, gentle kisses to his cheek and sexy biting kisses on the sides of his tummy. He liked it when he was on his stomach, and open lips would touch his back then slowly close, and travel down his spine. He liked it when he was laying on the couch, propped up against the arm, and Shinichirou would grab him by the ankles from the other end and tug him closer, pulling until Nanami was flat on his back. Then he would settle his hips between the smaller man's thighs, and kiss him just so, and whatever they were doing was forgotten for the next hour. He especially liked the teasing kisses bestowed upon his ear, short nipping pecks that only lead to one thing.

He liked playful kisses, and "I-missed-you" kisses, and silly kisses, and even, on occasion, angry kisses that left his lips bruised and sometimes bleeding. His favorites were spontaneous kisses, unexpected and thrilling, like their first kiss nine years ago. Nanami was fairly sure that he would be happy to spend hours at a time just kissing Shinichirou.

But being so easily seduced would not do. Nanami still had his dignity, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught doing something explicit at an inappropriete time just because Shinichirou layed one on him.

He discovered this during the first week of their relationship. At any given time, Nanami had found himself stealing a peck whenever he could manage it. By the fifth day, he had become an addict; kissing Shinichirou became a fix, and it wasn't until Soushi walked into his own kitchen while they were visiting and found them sucking face on his countertop that he realized it couldn't go on any longer.

He found turning Shinichirou down was difficult-- by then, both of them were spoiled, and Shinichirou was used to always being able to give kisses when he wanted and Nanami was used to enjoying them. His lover was persistant, baffled by the sudden change in attitude, and Nanami found the only way to make him stop was to either shout or hit him.

As the years went by, it became even harder to adjust to, as both of them went to college and got jobs, even though they worked at the same place. Combined with Nanami's initial resistance, the kisses he loved so much grew fewer and farther in between, and there were some days Nanami feared he wouldn't be kissed at all.

And then one evening, after a particularly brutal fight, Shinichirou was on his way out the door to find somewhere else to spend the night. He had paused, hand on the doorknob, then turned around and walked back into the livingroom where Nanami stood. Though his face was still tense with anger, he slid a gentle hand behind Nanami's neck and leaned in for a quick, but thorough, kiss.

The smaller man stood there for a moment, confused, before blurting out: "What was that for?"

Shinichirou was heading out the door when his answer came.

"No matter how pissed off I am, I can't let a day go by without kissing you."

Tue, 19 Jul 2005 07:27:16 GMT

Title: A Day in the Life of a Demon King
Author: Chu
Rating: ...Whatever.
Genre: Crack.

Yuuri tapped his foot impatiently against finely-stitched carpet, glaring at the paperwork steadily increasing before him. His attendants had formed a steady flow of traffic into and out of his office, casually dropping off stack after stack of tax reports and then going on their way. He envied the carefree lifestyles of his servants-- all they had to do was their daily schedule and go back home to their families. He, however, got stuck with making the big decisions.

He trashed eight queries from various noblemen requesting the age of consent be lowered to twelve and continued brooding.

No, all this stress just would not do for the Maou. It was nearing nightfall, his hand was cramping, and he had much better ideas for how to spend his evening other than signing off tax returns. Decision made, he told the next attendant to have the eunuch prepare his harem.

The kindly man was standing at the entrance to the room where fifty-three concubines lay in wait. Yuuri spared a smile for his current eunuch-- he had to have the last one killed because he kept sneaking into the Maou's room and shortsheeting his bed. "Hello, Conrad. Have all the preparations gone well?"

The older man bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. They anxiously await your choice for this evening."

As he stepped into the room, he breathed a sigh of relief. Before him was a sea of lovely radiance, all fair-haired, green-eyed beauties. As Maou, this was his most prized possession.

His Wolfram harem.

At his feet, a vision of sweetness in pink was on his hands and knees. To either side of him, now clinging to his hands, two gloriously nude boys kneeled, one of them possessively clutching the aforementioned appendage and the other nipping at his wrist playfully. The rest of them began crawling forward, claiming his arms and legs, and the few that were bold enough came to their feet and layed kisses all over his face, down his neck and across his shoulders.

Each and every one identical, with the exception of their personalities.

He considered taking two or three of them tonight. Eager faces peered up at him, and one started sucking his earlobe. The majority of them were swathed in the finest chiffon, nothing more than bellies decorated with gleaming rings and a pair of kohl-lined eyes visible.

He paused.

"So many decisions to make...I'm taking a break from making choices. I'll be taking them all to my quarters tonight, Conrad."

Yuuri payed no mind to the eunuch's shocked face amidst all the delighted squeals from his harem. "I'll satisfy all fifty-three of you."

Two hours, three Wolframs later...

Yuuri propped himself against the headboard and lit up a cigarette. "Holy shit." He muttered, even as a pale hand crept up the inside of his thigh. "Hey...HEY! Haven't I been with you already?!"

Sometime after midnight...

The first Wolfram whined, tugging at a limp arm as his companions crowded in on the Maou. Fed up, he barked at one of the others, "Here, grab his knees."

Wolfram #27 looked worried. "But, he's not..."

The thirty-second Wolfram sniped, "It doesn't matter. Don't you know a man's body still responds even while unconscious? Did you sleep through Whoring 101?"

Raucous cheering nearly shook the foundation of the palace.

"Take off his pants!"

"I have his arm! His arm is mine and you can't have it! Muwahahaha!"

"Let's use this to hold him up..."

"Hey! Watch where you poke things!"

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:42:35 GMT

I was working on a chaptered fic and ended up letting it collect dust on my computer, so I thought I'd share a piece of it if I wasn't going to finish it.

Title: Passing of Ages (excerpt)
Author: Chu
Genre: Comedy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Shinichirou/Nanami

"Open your mouth."

"...No."

"Open it!"

"No way, I have no idea what you're planning."

"I just want to put this in..."

His answer was a vigorous shake of the other boy's head. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"Come on, I've seen my parents do it plenty of times!"

A pair of small, lanky arms writhed in protest as his friend sought to put an unnameable object down his throat. "You might choke me!" It didn't help that the taller boy was not in the least bit comfortable; after being forcefully stripped and told to lie prone on the bed, he wasn't feeling very compliant. Not to mention his breathing was constricted with the other boy determinedly straddling his tummy-- even though his friend was quite small, the added weight was enough to limit his air supply.

That small, angelic face gazed down at him with those damnable pleading eyes, and before he'd had a chance to even consider the consequences of allowing his friend to violate his mouth in such a manner, he found himself agreeing to humor the other boy.

And almost immediately found a popsicle stick between his lips, pressing down on his tongue. "Say 'ahh'."

"Wahy did I haf to take mah clothes off fowa tis, Dnadnabi?" He lisped irritably. The auburn-haired boy shrugged, apparently clueless as to the point himself.

"Mama is always talking about how her patients are too shy to take their clothes off for exa...examenshun." He tripped over the word, and blushed a little as it didn't come out sounding half as professional as his parents made it sound. Nanami wasn't fond of admitting to himself his age; at his six years, he wanted to look, sound, and act as his parents and their friends did.

Unlike his dark-haired friend, who was quite comfortable flaunting his immaturity. As if on cue, Shinichirou began squirming under him, spitting out the piece of wood to better vocalize his complaints. "Nana-chan, I can't breathe like this. You're sitting on my tummy-- GAH!" Out of the corner of his eye, the young boy caught sight of Nanami's hand sneaking behind him and retrieving a bright yellow hammer.

There was something oddly menacing about the way his friend was weilding that particular toy. Nanami's sweet blue eyes glinted murderously, perched atop the defenseless boy in an attack stance. Shinichirou's eyes widened dramatically as the next words slid from the other boy's lips, dripping with doom.

"Time to operate."

And there was an unsettlingly loud squeak as Nanami put his weapon of choice to use, smacking his friend solidly in the face.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:20:29 GMT

Title: None yet. Suggestions?
Rating: Uh...on the safe side, R. There's some reference to sexual situations.
Pairing: It's a surprise!
Summary: If I wrote a summary it'd probably be longer than the story itself, so you get none! Nyah!

He'd refused to do it at first, logic taking precedence over everything else, but of course, he caved. What was embarrassing was how easily he'd caved, how quickly he'd given in to curiousity and indulged himself. It was only a minor comfort to know that not many teenagers (or, in his case, people with teenage hormones) were able to resist it.

Even then, he told himself, he would only go so far. But after his first taste, he couldn't seem to keep himself away. He kept coming back for more no matter how it made him feel, even though his morals and his sense of propriety screamed at him all the while. In the end, he had become just as base as the creatures he despised, Just before he lost all sense of consciousness, he hated himself.

Which led him to where he was now.

"I'm never drinking again." Wolfram moaned piteously, squirming under sheets that felt irritating to his skin. His head throbbed unforgivingly, and the blonde thought it must have been his punishment for doing something so ridiculously stupid. Even Yuuri had sat there, smiling at him, encouraging him to drink-- "It would only be a little, and miss Celi is here to make sure we don't drink very much, so don't you think it's okay?" --he should have warned the dark haired boy that his mother wasn't the best choice for a chaperone. Soon after they'd had a couple of drinks, the woman ran off with a flimsy excuse about getting her hair done before tomorrow, for whatever reason. After that, needless to say, Wolfram couldn't remember much. The images of everyone sitting around the table with glasses in their hands became blurred to the point where Yuuri's hair and eyes meshed together, Gunter's face looked distorted, Conrad eerily resembled an open-mouthed fish, and Gwendal seemed like nothing more than a whirl of colors.

Where was he?

His eyes snapped open. He immediately regretted the action, squinting them against the harsh sun that seemed determined to intensify his hangover. Somehow, he'd managed to make it to his bedroom (was this even his bedroom?), or at least a bed.

And then, Yuuri came into focus.

They were both lying on their sides, so close that Wolfram could feel the warm, feather-light sensation of the other boy's breath on his face. It wasn't so unusual for them to wake up in such a position-- although, normally Yuuri woke up before he did-- but this was the first time the blonde could remember waking up with the feel of bare skin against his own.

His cheeks heated. Yuuri's thigh was wedged tightly between Wolfram's legs, nudging him rather inapproprietely. Both of his arms were wrapped around the blonde's body possessively in his sleep, and there was the uncomfortable feeling of something dry and flaky between both of their legs. Wolfram shifted, and was suddenly aware of a deep ache. It was rather obvious what they had done.

There was an unreasonable surge of anger; Wolfram certainly wasn't against the two of them being together like this, had even hoped for it, but he couldn't remember anything! He never wanted to forget the first time they were together...

He opened his mouth, prepared to deliver a loud wake-up call to the sleeping boy, and then stopped.

Yuuri's face somehow managed to look even softer and more relaxed than when he was awake. It seemed like it was impossible for him to look even more content, when he was such a mellow person-- when he wasn't being chased by fans or hastled to do his work-- but right then, the Japanese boy was downright serene, dark eyelashes laying against his cheek, lips parted ever-so-slightly.

Yuuri looked so cute.

Wolfram squee'd.

Then immediately covered his mouth, humiliated at the degrading sound. Never in his life had he made such a noise in response to something before! But his fiancee was adorable, cuddled against him like that, his hand laying against his own waist...

His own waist?

Didn't he have both arms around Wolfram? The blonde puzzled over this new discovery. And unless Yuuri was secretly double-jointed, there was no way he could bend his arm like that. Suddenly, he stiffened.

There was another presence at his back, and a third arm wrapped around his waist.

Okay, calm down, he told himself. Just...just find out who it is first, and then...I'll fry the bastard.

He leaned up on one elbow, and froze. He was pretty sure he was facing the right side of the room, but he was looking at a door and a window. In Yuuri's room, and his own room, the door was on the left side, and there was a window at the end of the room. Just where were they? He glanced out the aforementioned window-- they weren't even at the same castle anymore! What in hell had they done last night?

Wolfram was so disgruntled that he didn't even think to prepare himself for what he might see when he looked over his shoulder. Angrily, he tossed his head to the side and stared directly into the face of their intrudor.

"AH, AHHHHH!" Conrad awoke almost immediately, and behind him, the blonde felt Yuuri jerk and sit bolt upright.

"My head!" The other boy moaned. Then he, also, got a look at their surroundings. "AH!" He was so startled that, in his attempt to move as far away from the other to occupants in the bed, he moved back too fast and all he got was a flash of his own (naked!) legs soaring over his head before he landed on the floor with a resounding thud.

"Yuuri!" Despite the circumstances, Yuuri's safety was first and foremost in Wolfram's mind. He leaned over just as the other boy complained about landing on something, and then he got a good look at just what he *had* landed on.

There was a pale, elegant hand outstretched from beneath the bed.

"Your Majesty?!" Was the cry they heard shortly after. Gunter stuck his head out from beneath the bedskirt and peered at them all. "You're naked!"

Poor Yuuri looked like he was somewhere in between an epileptic fit and a heart attack. His mouth worked, in a mockery of screaming, but only strangled noises came out.

"Good morning." Every head in the room turned to look in the corner. Gwendal was there, nude, as the rest of them were, cradling a tiny kitten in his arms. What was more disconcerting was the cigarette between his lips.

Yuuri's vocal chords seemed to work, then. "AHHH!"

"Shibuya?" From the foot of the bed, a small boy with bluish-gray hair sat up and rubbed at his eyes. A tick started at the corner of Wolfram's eye.

"WHO IS THAT?!" Yuuri started crying, wailing something about being violated, when the door opened. Stoffel walked in, dressed in...

"Those are my clothes, you bastard!" Wolfram would have leapt from the bed if he hadn't remembered his current state of undress. At that moment, Yuuri shot up from the floor and ran haphazardly towards the door, seemingly uncaring about the fact that he was just as naked as the rest of them-- well, Stoffel not included. "Yuuri!" Wolfram quickly followed him, and he was dimly aware of the others running behind him when they passed the castle maids (how did they get here, if they weren't in the same castle as last night?). What a scene they must have made, five naked men (one sans glasses, so he ran a little awkwardly), a regent in clothes three times too small for him, and a kitty cat. On cue, all three of the girls dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Yuuri didn't seem to know where he was going, just randomly opening doors and then racing off again. Finally, it seemed he'd found what he was looking for-- the baths.

"Yuuri! Wait!" Wolfram was determined to get to the boy before he jumped into the water, but none of them happened to noticed the very *wet* floor as they stepped in. They slid for a moment, then landed in a tangled heap at the edge of the bath just as Yuuri leapt in as though he were on fire.

He waddled around for a minute, splashing and floundering like a duck that couldn't swim, screaming incoherently. When he wasn't taken back to the other world, then...

"I WAS MOLESTED AND NOW I WANT TO GO HOME. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!" Wolfram thought he was getting ready to drown himself, ducking underwater and staying under much longer than was healthy for someone's lungs. After the third try, he emerged, sat there for a moment with absolutely no expression on his face whatsoever.

"Yuuri?" Wolfram called, cautiously.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:19:03 GMT

Title: Vignette
Author: Chu
Pairing/Character: Wolfram, a little Yuuri/Wolfram
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, romance
Summary: A reflective piece. Wolfram thinks back on the roots of his possessive nature.

He really wished someone would get the door.

Of course, it was his fault the door was closed, anyway. But he couldn't help it, really-- he'd gotten bored sitting in his old room with all of his old toys and his old games. Old, old, old; he decided then that he hated old things, his nanny included. After all, his nanny was old and she wouldn't let him leave the stifling confines of his bedroom, and she smelled funny. He didn't really like stinky things, either.

Even after wobbling the entire, exhausting distance to his playroom, all he found to have fun with was a doll someone must have left in here by mistake. He was busily ripping the head off and giggling at the strange popping noises it made when the steady pounding on the door began.

He didn't think he'd locked it, being so small that he had to stand on his toes and reach both of his arms up high in order to tug it closed. Even at the tender age of twenty, though, Wolfram understood that it would be rude of whoever it was to just barge in, so they kept knocking, and he kept playing, sitting with his legs splayed out in front of him and tiny fingers prying at plastic.

Having little to no patience for people who kept bothering him, the tiny blonde eventually sat the doll on the floor and set to the frustrating task of standing up. He used the nearby toybox for balance as he nearly toppled over, standing with his body bent in half and his arms stretched out in front of him, swaying before he felt confident enough to straighten. And then he walked, haltingly, to the door that was now rattling in it's frame.

"Wolf! Are you in there?" His mother's voice, always calm and soothing when addressing him, sounded a little harried. And when he finally succeeded in getting the door to open (giggling again at the familiar popping noise as doorknob turned, reminiscent of the doll he'd just mutilated) he saw that it was not just his mother, but Gwendal, as well. His brother was getting so big, Wolfram's nose only reaching his thigh when he wrapped his arms around the other boy.

The toddler was just a little confused when his older brother didn't hug him back.

"Wolf." Obediently, he pulled away and looked up at his mother, eyes shining curiously. The expression on her face was soft, and had he been able to recognize it, he would've thought it was a little bit sad. "Gwendal's leaving tomorrow. How would you like to help him pack?" She paused, adding in, "You came all this way by yourself? You had your nanny nearly beside herself."

His brother was leaving? He didn't like that. Not at all. And when he stuck his fist in his mouth and chomped it a few times, staring up at her worriedly, she automatically pulled his fingers away. His face brightened for a moment and he asked, "Is Gwendal going on a trip? I want to go!" And get away from all the old. He was happy his nanny was split in half and had to stand next to herself because of him. Now if he could just convince someone to buy him some new toys...

His mother didn't answer.

He wouldn't realize until the next day that it would be a long time before he saw his brother again-- and all he could do was cry and scream.

With Gwendal's departure to the Walde castle came a terrible possessive streak in the blonde child. He didn't share anything with anyone, and was often prone to outbursts of extreme temper when something was taken from him forcefully. It was a minor problem, however-- Wolfram still remained the sweet, friendly boy he'd always been.

He was in his early thirties when his father left.

It had been a sordid ordeal, and the beginning of a lack of respect for his mother that would grow over the years. It was hard for Wolfram to understand why she wouldn't look at daddy over the dinnertable anymore when they talked, why she would spend more time with the male visitors than she would with her husband. And when the night came that Wolfram's father packed his bags and left, he realized how nasty some people could be.

"It's a shame, but I've gotten tired of him."

Not words to Wolfram. Not to a friend or a family member. His mother told a complete stranger-- a servant.

He didn't speak to her for a long time after that, and it wasn't for several months that she realized his personality had taken a permanent turn for the worst. He didn't smile when he was offered a cookie before dinner, a scowl etched constantly onto his cute face, and it frightened Celi to see condescending green eyes-- her own eyes-- rest on her.

At the time, there weren't very many things that brought him out of this mood. Whenever he got unbearable, though, Conrad would play with him and teach him how to use a sword. Celi would watch from the window, and Wolfram knew; but even with his own assumed enlightenment, he didn't know why he'd look up and see her crying.

Shortly after, his mother left on what she called a business trip. He'd thought nothing of it until he heard the giggles and random gossip carelessly passed around-- rumors about his mother searching for "another man".

The weeks after were spent in the company of Conrad, and during that time he developed a special fondness for the other boy. His older brother, the only one remaining, easily brushed aside his tendency to horde things to himself and his sometimes competitive nature. He'd never seen the older boy angry or stressed-- his face was soft, and gentle, always graced by a kind smile. In those years, Conrad was the one closest to him, and it would be decades before another kind smile and gentle gaze would capitivate him quite the same way his brother's did.

He'd gotten so attached to the other boy that he refused to sleep in his own room, instead opting to snuggle up next to Conrad in his bed. Wolfram's personality managed to alienate him from having very many friends, and laying in an empty bed only served to make him lonely.

Because they were close, they told each other everything. Which was why he was so horribly shocked when a boy came from town and threw a rock at his brother, shouting, "Filthy human!"

"I didn't want to tell you because I thought you would hate me." His brother was calm, so very calm, but it only infuriated Wolfram more.

"I do! I do hate you! You always told me everything! You're a liar. A traitor!"

Because if Conrad thought he was bad, then obviously he was. And it was the last thing Wolfram ever believed he was right about.

He would hate Conrad as much as Conrad hated himself. It didn't count that night when he hid in his room and cried until he thought his own personal agony would kill him.

In the end, the people he cared about the most formed his worst attributes.

Sometimes he really hated the people he loved.

His hand was resting on Yuuri's bared stomach, the other boy's pajama top riding up to reveal smooth skin. The Maou was asleep, jaw slack and body limp in slumber, unaware of a pair of emerald eyes watching him, almost melancholic in their vigilance. The soft warmth beneath his fingertips rose and fell rhythmically, a constant lullaby that was slowly succeeding in putting him to sleep despite his determination to stay awake and guard his newly acquired obsession.

He wasn't capable of letting things go anymore. Yuuri was entirely too important for him to lose, somehow.

It took three people to break his heart.

Wolfram's palm brushed over the dark-haired boy's navel, and a blonde head fell to rest on his shoulder. He knew Yuuri wouldn't welcome the attention, but he curled up next to him anyway.

He would never let anyone take anything from him.

Ever again.

Slap OOC on my ass and let me be on my way. XD

And here's my drabblefic. =3

By the time he got to the end of the hallway, only a few doors away from His Majesty's bedroom, his legs were aching from the strain. He just kept running, though, the echoes of hoarse screams not quite so distant now. His Majesty sounded like he was in a great deal of pain-- wasn't Wolfram in the room with him?! Could he not defend his King?

He threw open the door, and cried out in an impassioned voice, "Are you alright, Your Majesty?!"

It took him a moment to register the slowly quieting moans and whimpers. It didn't take him very long at all to notice that Yuuri was too busy holding his own ankles to fight back, had he honestly been attacked.

"Gunter..." Yuuri's voice was soft and endlessly shocked.

Wolfram wasn't quite so embarrassed. The look on his face as he glanced over his shoulder at the other man could only be described as murderous, but Gunter was unimpressed.

"Wolfram! What are you doing to..."

His sentence was cut off as the doorway he was standing in burst into flames, and anyone walking through the castle that night would've seen a crispy critter running frantically back to it's room.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:18:21 GMT

Title: Candy-Apple Red
Author: Chu
Rating: Whatever.
Genre: Humor
Pairing: Shinichirou/Nanami

Note: I do not feel good about this piece. At all. I need feedback.

Pet my ego. T_T

The moment Shinichirou stepped into the nurse's office, Nanami thought something was...different.

It was a vibrant, blotchy, candy-apple difference, peeking over the collar of his pristine button-up shirt. The second he spotted it, Nanami's face quickly turned a similar shade, as half the day had passed and apparently, Shinichirou either hadn't noticed it, or didn't care.

The auburn-haired doctor could just imagine the kinds of comments his lover had gotten throughout the day. "Good afternoon, you look nice today-- the color of your tie really brings out your hickey."

"Shinichirou..." When the taller man turned to face him, Nanami was presented with a better view of the bruise-- his own handiwork-- and visibly cringed. "Pull your collar up higher."

"Eh?" Shinichirou made a comical show of trying to see what was wrong with the way he was dressed, unable to look at his own neck without a mirror. Exasperated, Nanami reached up to cover the offending discoloration, fingertips brushing over the sensitive skin along the way. Shinichirou squirmed, then grinned.

"Is it bothering you?" Shinichirou grabbed Nanami's wrists and pulled them away. When the smaller man looked at him questioningly, Shinichirou's eyes widened and watered. "But Nana," He began, flouncing around the room as he whined, "none of the other kids think I can get a date! They all say I'm mean and cranky and that no one would ever want to go out with me and now I don't have to use the vacuum cleaner anymore!"

Shinichirou tugged down one side of his collar, the opposite side of the bruise, taunting Nanami with fresh, unmarked skin. He tilted his head to the side, "Wanna make another one?

There was a pause, a look of incredulity, and then: "...Idiot."

"Well, if it bothers you so much, then I'll just have to be fair...and give you one!" On cue, the dark-haired man pounced, but his lover was ready with a swift backhand. Shinichirou stumbled back, shook his head, and rolled his eyes back. "Ow."

"Cut it out! Someone could walk in..."

"It's just a little love-bite. Not a big deal. After all," Shinichirou's tone of voice abruptly switched from playful to something low and husky and tempting. All of a sudden the other man was entirely too close, wisps of breath tickling Nanami's sensitive ears, and the smaller man couldn't help but shiver. "It's not every day Nana marks me as his."

"That's not--" what that was for, he finished in his mind, as his mouth was covered by a pair of warm, soft lips.

Oh well.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:17:24 GMT

Title: Shake Your Lovemaker
Author: Chu
Rating: PG-13
Genre: CRACK
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram. Sort of.

It was nearing afternoon, usually the busiest time of the day, and it seemed as though everything had come to a mutual stalemate. Gunter had long since been distracted from Yuuri and his studies, Greta had opted to nap instead of going outside to play, and Gwendal hadn't shown up to shovel paperwork in his face after sometime early this morning. The sudden lull in what would otherwise be a rushed point in time for Yuuri quickly lost it's relaxing effect, slowly ebbing into boredom.

His joints snapped and cracked as he stood, serving to remind him exactly how long he'd been sitting in that position. Well then-- to make up for all the inactivity, he should find something to do that would involve moving his body, wouldn't he?

He was, for once, grateful for Ulrike and her unpredictable summonings. This time, he was pulled into the water clutching his duffel bag, which just happened to contain his CD player. How it remained undamaged from the water was a mystery he wasn't sure he wanted to solve, but it managed to provide some sort of entertainment for him during times like these.

And invoked quite a few amusing responses from his comrades.

One of which he seemed to be walking in on, as he nudged open the door to his bedroom and beheld one of the strangest sights he'd ever seen since he first landed in Shinmakoku. Yuuri felt the urge to do a classic doubletake as he stood in the doorway and watched as Wolfram, wearing his headphones, danced quite enthusiastically to whatever was playing on the small device.

Of all things, he never expected to catch Wolfram doing something considered so very tactless in this world, but the blonde was seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was flaunting his assets.

Yuuri's eyes glazed over. It had to have been one of the funniest things he'd ever seen-- he had to think of it as funny, because if he didn't, it would leave him with the other reaction brought on by Wolfram's little display, and he would have to admit that watching the other boy shake his lovemaker turned him on. Just a little.

And he certainly couldn't let himself think along those lines.

So his cheeks filled with air fast enough that some of it escaped between puckered lips, and he fought to contain a delighted chortle. Despite the blonde's graceful manuevering, he couldn't help but find it insanely hilarious to see the other boy in his stately uniform, noble from head to toe, as he wagged his hips suggestively.

Wolfram's first impression of the round machine had been little more than to jump back slightly as music burst through the miniature speakers, followed by a rather crude comment about Yuuri's choice in music hissed scathingly between full, pink lips. The same song he'd been admonished for was playing now, projecting enough through the headphones for the brunette to hear the lyrics.

'Cause it's easy, once you know how it's done, and you can't stop now, it's already begun, you feel it, running through your bones...then you jerk it out.

Yuuri closed the door behind him and started walking down the hall. He decided to studiously ignore the bulge in his uniform and write it off as teenage hormones.

Then he came to a stop in front of another door, a room kept locked and hidden away in a remote corner of the castle. He pulled a key from his pocket, and walked into his haven.

The room was decorated like a shrine of sorts, with shelves full of books and posters and framed pictures. Books with titles like Think You Might Be Gay? Well, You're Wrong! and pictures of ambiguously straight men with candles lit around them in worship. The room was painted solid blue, and he sighed at his surroundings-- all of it was straight, straight, straight, nothing gay at all, because Yuuri was not gay. He put on his fuzzy little purple earmuffs and tuned out anything in the atmosphere that might be inspiring Gayness.

"I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm straighter than a nail, not gay, nope..."

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:16:27 GMT

Title: None. I'm a loser.
Author: Chu
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Shinichirou/Nanami

Hands that groped desperately at the bars of the headboard slipped, a combination of flesh slickened by sweat and cold, smooth metal yielding no purchase. Long brown tresses stood out in stark contrast to the white sheets as he threw his head back, knees angled at the wall behind him, toes curling into the sheets unforgivingly as a soft voice keened. The body above him served as a secure canopy as well as an assailant, hips pressing unrelentlessly into his own at the same time as warm, moist lips placed loving kisses down his jawline. Nanami mused that there could only be one position in the world where you were both protected by and vulnerable to the same person, one he should be familiar with by now, but even years of experience hadn't numbed him to the exquisite feeling of deep penetration, the rocking motions that were equal parts violating and reassuring.

A particularly strong push sent one of his legs up involuntarily, foot rising off the bed as he brought one knee closer to his chest, an invitation his partner had no heart to resist. Shinichirou's hand, large and warm, found a place stroking the back of his thigh, before inching up and coaxing him to spread wider for better access.

Nanami's hands were aching from his deathgrip on the headboard, arms flexing to the point where he felt as though he would soon be pulling himself up on the bed. He took the first opening, as Shinichirou leaned one way for a better angle, and used the other man's momentum to turn him over on his back, leaving Nanami above him and the two still intimately connected.

The long-haired man took over where his lover left off, leaning down and devouring an expanse of skin at the junction of neck and shoulder as Shinichirou's hands slid down to guide his hips. Their position didn't hold for long, wandering down one of his legs, over the curve of his bottom and then over the snake-like motion of his back. Fingers came to rest at his neck, toying with stray strands of his hair as Nanami's lips pulled away with a loud smack, raising his body and steadying himself with his arms at the headboard once again.

Something warm and wet covered his nipple, followed by a gentle, persistant suction, and his graceful movements deteriorated into animalistic rutting. Once he'd found balance, one arm snaked around Shinichirou's head, holding it to his chest as his neck bowed with a long, low moan.

His tummy was so nice and soft and warm, Nanami thought to himself in delight. Instinctively, he began rubbing himself against the body beneath his, biting the corner of his lip as the sensations coursing through his body surged once, twice...

Shinichirou was lucky Nanami didn't crush his skull. Or other parts of his anatomy that he found equal in value.

For a moment, the smaller man couldn't even find it in himself to roll off his lover. He dropped to his elbows, back bowed and forehead pressed to Shinichirou's chest as slowly, he caught his breath, and lifted himself off of the other man's hips with one last, shivering sigh.

He probably should have known it was a mistake before he said it, but as soon as Nanami had settled into the bed, curled into his side with his head resting on Shinichirou's outstretched arm, it left his lips. "Nanami...are you abusing viagra?"

It only took a swift extension of Nanami's leg to send him flying across the room.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:15:18 GMT

Title: Free Fall
Author: Chu
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff, fluff, and a little fluff.
Pairing: Wolfram/Yuuri
Summary: Contains spoilers for episode 31. Drabblefic, summary would be longer than the fic itself >_>

It was difficult, that first night after they'd retrieved Yuuri, to keep his hands to himself. When it came time for them to go to bed before making that long journey back to the boat, it was even harder for him to climb into his tiny cot, mere feet away from his fiancee's, and attempt to sleep.

Wolfram didn't like to admit when he was afraid. It was a feeling he didn't experience often; no, despite his youthful looks he was much too old to let just anything scare him. But in such a short amount of time, he'd had the living daylights frightened out of him twice-- the first had been when his gaze rest upon his brother's dismembered arm, standing amongst the burnt debris of a church, and known, instinctively, that they would not find Yuuri there. He didn't know if that was because Yuuri had been kidnapped, or ran off, or if he'd been killed.

And that uncertainty scared the hell out of him.

The second came much later, as he just barely made it in time to see Yuuri's fingers, straining desperately against the side of the newly-forged cliff, finally lose their purchase as the unsteady rock crumbled with his weight. He'd thought, then, that it was over-- that no matter how fast he ran or how hard he dove into the dirt, he'd never be able to catch the other boy.

He'd been wrong, and for once, Wolfram was pleased to say so.

Now, he lay uncomfortably on the stiff mattress beneath him, struggling in vain to get some much-needed rest. He should have been able to drift off easily, content with knowing his love was safe, and alive, and warm and solid-- but he couldn't. Because, even though he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, Wolfram was still afraid.

Because for some reason, a part of him felt like Yuuri was still falling away.

When they were away from the castle, they usually slept in seperate beds. Wolfram didn't like it, but he'd conceded, knowing that while what he did was acceptable when he was home, other people-- more conservative people-- would see it as unmannerly for two unmarried people to sleep in the same bed. But now, while they were both laying still in this cramped little tent and the only sound disturbing the air was their breathing, he wanted so desperately to wrap his arms around the other boy's frame and hold him tight enough to bruise.

Yuuri was shifting around in his cot, and Wolfram turned away, determined not to let the small movement influence him. He knew he wasn't welcome in Yuuri's bed. Not tonight.

He'd just barely managed to close his eyes and attempt some form of sleep before his bed dipped, and slender arms curled around his midsection. "...Yuuri?" He mumbled, half-awake and barely holding on to consciousness with the added distraction of an almost too-warm body pressed against his back.

"Don't say anything." He whispered back, and Wolfram wasn't sure, but the other boy sounded rather...timid. "Let me stay here for a while, please? Just for a bit, and then I'll go back to my bed..." Yuuri held him a little tighter, and the blonde sighed in content. God, Yuuri gave the best hugs ever, he decided. His grip was tender, just strong enough for Wolfram to feel it, and gentle enough that he didn't have to strain if he wanted to move. And he did just that, rolling over until he was facing the other boy, burying his head into Yuuri's chest.

The cot was tiny, and barely left them enough space to breathe. Wolfram had to twine his legs with Yuuri's and fold his arms up between them just to give them enough room to insure they wouldn't slide off the bed at any minute. And they stilled, bodies finally relaxing as their heartbeats slowed to a quiet murmur and their breaths deepened in a state in between being awake and sleeping, then Wolfram thought, drowsily, that maybe Yuuri was falling.

But the blonde was pretty sure that he'd been the first to let go of the ledge.

It was a long time before he finally drifted off into slumber, caught up in the strange thoughts his half-conscious mind induced. At the time, sleep didn't mean anything to him, not when he was cocooned in soft warmth and there was a steady heartbeat under his ear. And Yuuri did not return to his bed that night.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:14:21 GMT

***THIS FANFIC WILL NOT BE FINISHED***

It has been downgraded to a oneshot.

Title: Fable
Author: Chu
Rating: *VERY* NC-17
Pairing: Yuuram.
Summary: This story is based on sexual exploration, so I assure you there are not going to be any "work safe" chapters. At all. This is basically covering everything that Kyou Kara Maou does *not* cover, and that is the sexual tension between two teenaged (or biologically teenaged) boys. Some people told me that this story is nothing more than an excuse to write continuous smut...

They're absofrigginlutely right. XD

Sidenote: This story is completely unbetaed and I didn't even have time to check it for errors before I posted it. I apologize for the sloppy job.

An iridescent drop of red wine pearled temptingly on Yuuri's lip, clinging for just the barest of a second before the tip of his tongue peeked out and swept it away. From across the room, Wolfram watched it's demise from underneath blonde bangs, lingering on the glistening skin for a moment before lifting his eyes up to meet the Maou's. Yuuri was babbling almost incoherently, unable to control himself in the face of his inebriation. The words were meaningless, the only thing of consequence to the mazoku being the subtle movements of lips and tongue. Briefly, Wolfram considered that he, also, might be drunk. One glance down confirmed that he'd only managed to drink less than half of his glass, so caught up in watching his companion quickly down nearly the entire bottle.

He'd had thoughts of taking advantage of the other boy in this vulnerable state, though they were tossed aside with little more than a passing consideration. Wolfram was just as eager to taste the dark-haired boy as Yuuri seemed to be to consume as much alcohol as possible, but the threat looming over his sense of nobility and honor subdued the desire. The Maou, himself, was completely oblivious to the suggestive lowering of lashes over gleaming green eyes, the subtle curl of the other boy's lips. Yuuri took no notice of Wolfram's fingers gingerly stroking the pristine white tablecloth, as if he were petting a cat, or sinking into a lover's flesh...

"And then, Wolf, then, she put the lipstick on." He slurred, making hand motions that the other boy assumed was supposed to mimic someone applying lipstick, and it would have worked, had Yuuri not completely missed his mouth and ended up waving his index finger around in front of his forehead. "Ever since then, never let my mom near my mouth with the stuff again..." His hand knocked the table hard enough to nudge the lip closer to Wolfram's belly, but he didn't seem to notice. The Japanese boy gestured wildly, both hands held above his head. "I had nightmares for years. Years. And then the purple monkeys got me."

The blonde didn't exactly want to ponder as to the connection between Yuuri's mother, lipstick, and purple monkeys. The dark-haired boy was absently running one finger underneath the collar of his school uniform, casting nervous glances at the mazoku. Apparently, he'd finally caught on to the extra attention Wolfram seemed to be paying the tablecloth, his eyes locked on the caressing motions of the other boy's fingers, determined to watch anything other than the smoldering gaze that was focused solely on him...

"It's kinda hot, isn't it?" Yuuri exhaled sharply with his mouth gaping, just once, to illustrate his point as the top button was released. A dark sliver of skin was now available for Wolfram's thorough scrutiny, and his fingers tightened slighty around the thin cloth in his hand at the sight.

Screw honor.

"I'm fine. Perhaps you've had too much to drink, Yuuri." The blonde paused, as though considering. "If you're uncomfortable, maybe you should remove your shirt." His fingers stilled on the cloth, his entire stance speaking of his anticipation.

Across the table, Yuuri was beginning to feel a bit like the only steak sitting in the middle of a den of lions. His own position was almost virginal, one hand curled next to his throat, the other wrapped around his own waist. Normally wide brown eyes were half-closed, the expression in them glazed and curious. "No...I'm okay with my shirt on." He rasped.

Warm breath passed over Wolfram's lips as he slumped in disappointment. Yuuri immediately launched into another stumbled recollection of his childhood, but his hands didn't cease toying with the second button on his uniform, and a thoughtful look remained in his eyes.

It wasn't long before the blonde boy tried again, his foot inching over and rubbing slow, gentle circles over Yuuri's ankle. The other boy continued to babble, and at first, Wolfram thought that he didn't even notice the subtle motions. The response was hesitant, and the dark-haired boy didn't even pause in his monologue as his foot grazed up the side of Wolfram's calf. The mazoku gripped the stem of his glass, his eyes losing focus just for a moment at the sensation. Yuuri was clueless, he finally decided, as he saw no change in the boy's expression after continuing their little game under the table for a few minutes. The alcohol had definately dulled his senses.

He didn't even know he was involved in this elaborate dance. Poor, defenseless Yuuri. But his body knew-- Wolfram was all too aware of how the Maou instinctively leaned closer than necessary when he spoke, how his foot quivered just the slightest when it brushed a little too high on the blonde's leg. He didn't miss how Yuuri's fingernails were persistantly stroking that newly revealed slice of chest, almost absent-mindedly. He was caught up in the same current of lust and need that the mazoku was, and he had no idea. Helpless, indeed.

"...You know? Are you listening, Wolf?" Yuuri had long since given up trying to pronounce the last part of Wolfram's name. Eight "fwas" and "furums" "Wolfmans" later, he settled for just shortening it a little to match his current vocabulary skills. The newly-named boy was leaning his cheek against his hand, elbow resting sassily on the table as he watched the myriad of expressions flit across Yuuri's face. His foot had long since left safe territory and was now busily violating the inside of the Maou's thigh, rubbing slowly, purposefully, back and forth over the sensitive skin. It was a teasing parody of what Wolfram would have liked to be doing at that moment.

He nodded as Yuuri repeated his question for the second time. Just another inch--

"WHOA!" Yuuri almost leapt out of his seat an instant after Wolfram's foot pressed firmly against his groin and managed to stroke once against the increasing bulge in his pants. In the process, he removed his own foot, which had been absently curling around the other boy's idle leg. His face was flushed and damp with the tiniest amount of sweat, sitting stiffly in his chair as Wolfram finally pulled away.

Yuuri stared at the other, gaping just the slightest. The blonde's lips parted, lids lowering until only the slightest slits of green peeked out. He extended his arms up and behind his head, interlacing the fingers, and slowly, provocatively, his head fell back. He bared his throat and the underside of his jaw to the other boy, taunting, knowing that his face was out of view, leaving his body stretched and vulnerable.

He'd made his offer.

Out of his line of sight, Yuuri swallowed dryly. He suddenly felt very sober, even though the glass in his hand was nearly weightless. Never taking his eyes off of his companion, he grabbed the bottle and took a hearty swig. Then refilled his glass.

"Wolf?" He'd barely gotten the words out of his mouth before Wolfram replied, their words overlapping each other.

"Take me to bed."

The almost empty bottle dropped from Yuuri's hand and hit the carpeted floor with a quiet thunk. The blonde's voice was softer than his normally harsh tones, and something-- something, laying just underneath the surface of the command, pulled insistantly at the back of the Maou's mind. The dark-haired boy wasn't sure why he hadn't protested yet, figuring it had something to do with the alcohol that was steadily sinking into his bloodstream. He knew, rationally, that sleeping with Wolfram was a very bad idea. You sleep with someone you love, right? He loved the other boy as a friend...did he love him that way?

The frightening part was, he really didn't know. And because he didn't know, it wouldn't be fair to do something so intimate with the blonde and then forget about it afterwards.

By the time he'd walked around the table and leaned down to tentatively stroke the pale column that Wolfram offered so willingly, he swore to himself that he'd never drink again.

He watched, with some fascination, as smooth, soft-looking lips parted again, and the other boy exhaled slowly. His hand cupped the blonde's tilted jaw, a stray finger tenderly rubbing the skin beneath his ear. Wolfram's eyes, now reduced to nothing more than the thinnest strip of green overshadowed by lashes blacker than sin, never left Yuuri's face. The dark-haired boy fancied that he could see everything the mazoku wanted to do to him, with him, in that hooded gaze. That there was a reflection in those tempting depths of the two of them, relieved of the confines of their clothes and moving most obscenely against each other.

He didn't realize his hand had tightened on Wolfram's jaw until he'd forced the other boy's mouth open. One milk-white hand abandoned its duty as the blonde's pillow and snaked around Yuuri's shoulder, his hand settling itself lightly at the base of his neck, encouraging.

It was like a magnetic pull. His own movements were subtle, unconscious, as his body slid closer to the other boy's. Wolfram's thighs spread willingly on the chair as Yuuri's knee dropped between them, his other foot planted firmly on the floor. His own jaw went slack as he slowly leaned down, tilting his head just slightly, and stopped barely a centimeter away from the other boy's mouth.

They stared at each other, lashes fluttering weakly. This was the point of no return, Yuuri realized-- the second his lips touched Wolfram's, he would be lost.

Oh, God. Every exhalation the blonde made passed into his own mouth, more intoxicating than the wine still sitting innocently on the table. It was like he was sucking in the mazoku's very existance, from beating heart to bones to yearning, psuedo-delicate body...

With one last, defeated whimper, the Maou submitted to his own desires and closed his lips over Wolfram's.

The boy beneath him breathed in sharply, eyes clenching shut. "Mm..." His fingers twisted and tightened in the back of Yuuri's collar, "Mm..." and his whole body seemed to melt into the chair as he sighed through his nose. The other boy finally relinquished hold of his jaw, opting instead to comb his hand through the hair behind Wolfram's ear. His fingers brushed through the feathery strands until he reached the back of the boy's neck, where they curled and held on tightly.

The blonde's hips arched off the chair as Yuuri's tongue slithered passed his lips, the thick, wet muscle filling his mouth. The movement brought him closer to Yuuri's leg, and his groin brushed over one clothed thigh, so faintly that it was only a tingling sensation on his skin. He sucked in a breath, harsh and long, and released it quickly, his chest and thighs trembling from the strain on his lungs, of trying to keep his body suspended.

Yuuri was making pleased noises in the back of his throat as Wolfram caught his tongue between pearly white teeth, sucking firmly on the sensitive muscle. His own curled upwards, the very tip of it stroking the underside of the dark-haired boy's maddeningly.

The back of the blonde's neck was beginning to ache from the pressure of the back of the chair digging into it. His body was arched passionately, to the point where his head was nearly hanging upside down, only supported by the arm behind it. Yuuri's hand released his hair, only to reach around and tug Wolfram's cravat gently. There was a quiet whisper of sound as the cloth was pulled free, and it landed on the floor, forgotten. The blonde's collar fell open, and the Maou finally released his lips with a wet, sucking noise.

As Yuuri pulled away, Wolfram's body relaxed back onto the chair again. Tanned fingers reached down and fumbled with the blonde's belt, and with the sound of metal rattling came a sense of apprehensiveness. The mazoku would never admit it, but he was scared-- as much as he wanted this, there were so many doubts, so many questions. Would it hurt? He was fairly certain it would, and he knew he could bare pain. Would Yuuri like it?

When tomorrow came, would Yuuri care?

That was another senseless worry. Even if tonight didn't mean anything as to the dark-haired boy's feelings for him, he knew Yuuri wasn't the type to forget it ever happened. But could Wolfram continue being nothing more than his friend, after he knew what it felt like to do something like this with him?

Wordlessly, he stood up and grabbed Yuuri's hand, urging him to follow.

He'd take the risk.

As he predicted, the other boy had trouble walking on his own. He slung one arm around Wolfram's shoulders, and stumbled along beside him.

Half way up the steps, the blonde realized with some amusement, that Yuuri had grabbed his wine glass from the table and seemed intent on carrying it to the bedroom with them. The presence of the goblet only succeeded in reminding Wolfram that he was doing something he considered one of the most dishonorable things to do, but he shook it off, determined. It wasn't fair to Yuuri, but...

Tonight he'd chosen to be selfish.

It disgusted him, how very human he had become, that he would stoop so low just to please himself. Something had to have been in the wine, he decided.

But when the loud thud crashed in his ears, as his shoulder ached and the wood behind him trembled in counterpart to his own reactions, it didn't matter. It didn't matter, because he was being crushed between the wall and Yuuri's deliciously limber body, as the other boy seemed intent on bruising his lips.

The Maou pulled away and kissed along Wolfram's jaw, traveling quickly to the blonde's ear. He caught the soft lobe in his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue and the massaging motion of his lips.

"Aaaugh..." Reluctantly, the mazoku forced himself to open his eyes and push Yuuri away. "Stop, you bonehead. We'll never get to the bedroom."

"I'm a bonehead now?" Yuuri grumped, still hanging on to his precious wine glass.

"You hurt my shoulder."

"M'sorry." He mumbled, looking genuinely apologetic. He reached out and gingerly rubbed the offended spot, intending on soothing the ache as they continued their way upstairs. By the time they reached the door to their bedroom, however, Wolfram's head was lolling listlessly against Yuuri, mouth hanging open as the other boy's fingers gently teased the crook between his neck and shoulder. He didn't hear the sound of the door opening, barely noticed when he was almost dragged inside by an overly eager Maou.

"Lights..." Yuuri mumbled, his hand flopping uselessly against the desk beside him.

Wolfram's eyes opened, just slightly, then he lifted his head up and reluctantly pulled away. He walked unsteadily towards the bed, stumbling as he kicked off his boots. As he was turning the covers down, the room was gradually flooded with light, and he froze.

This wasn't right. Their first night together shouldn't be like this; was it really worth it, to do something that Yuuri may regret later? Was it worth it to steal something from the other boy, to give something to him, that neither of them could ever get back?

If Yuuri reciprocated his feelings, was it worth it to do this with him when there was a chance he might not remember a damn thing?

Wolfram slumped, defeated by his own logic. He couldn't do this, not with things--

The decision was stolen from him as a solid thump reached his ears.

"Yuuri!" Well, at least he HOPED it was Yuuri. With his face smashed into the pillow like this, it was hard to tell.

"Hold still." Despite the husky command breathed into his ear, Wolfram struggled instinctively against the hand holding his head down, squirmed to get away from the other hand planted at the center of his back. There was a startled gasp off to his right, and the body above him stilled.

"I take that back...move as much as you want." Yuuri's voice sounded harsh, strained. Wolfram thrashed and bucked wildly, dismayed that the results of his own actions were interfering with his latest decision.

Goddamnit, Yuuri could at least let him be top.

The hand at his back slowly made it's way up the blonde boy's spine, applying enough pressure that Wolfram's back arched into the touch.

Oh...never mind.

His head was finally released, but the hand that had been holding it down immediately snapped towards the boy's hand and held it above his head. The hand at his back continued it's steady ascent, then suddenly changed course and rubbed towards Wolfram's side until he'd completely wrapped his arm around him. The blonde's struggles were little more than halfhearted at best, now, even though he could've easily gotten away.

A low, keening noise forced its way passed Wolfram's lips as Yuuri's hand rubbed over a sensitive nipple. But his hand kept moving, and for a moment, the mazoku was confused-- the dark-haired boy DID know he'd just hit the jackpot, didn't he?

But then his shirt loosened, and he knew why.

"Wouldn't this be easier if you let me turn over?" He complained, wiggling in irritation at how he was being restrained. The boy above him moaned at the contact and pressed his body closer, darting his tongue out to swirl around the outside of Wolfram's ear.

"I like it better this way..." He mumbled, his mouth busily tending to the blonde's cheek and the corner of his mouth. He pulled away and frowned, however, as Wolfram's shirt was finally unbuttoned. "Why do you wear so much?"

"This is my uniform--"

"I know that, but you're always wearing all of this. And what's with that marshmallow puff at your neck, anyway?" Behind him, Yuuri made a displeased noise.

"Hey!"

"It looks like someone attacked you with a spray can of whipped cream!" Without warning, the blonde's free elbow shot back and dug into Yuuri's side. The dark-haired boy grunted.

"Fuck me!" Wolfram's movements came with purpose, now, not as a front of resistance. He reveled in the wanton shouts behind him, the way Yuuri's hand tightened around his wrist and trembled, as the rest of his body trembled and shuddered in response to the abrupt change in attitude. The mazoku grinned humorlessly.

Yeah, he was going to be bottom, but God bedamned if he was going to be the powerless one.

Apparently he'd struck a chord in Yuuri. Above him, the boy only faltered for a moment before hastily straddling the prone boy's hips. He took to it like a cowboy on a bull, riding Wolfram's tantrum and, if the hard bulge pressed against him was what the blonde boy thought it to be, he was having a damn good time doing it.

Beneath him, the blonde snarled and doubled his efforts, all of his energy going into his struggle. Those fingers were under him, tickling his chest again...

He gasped sharply as his shirt was yanked back and his arms were deliberately tangled in the sleeves. Yuuri pulled back on the cloth as if they were reigns, restraining the other boy's motions to nothing more than a few pathetic wiggles.

"Ah-- AHHHH!" Wolfram's enraged scream reverberated in the large room and his eyes squeezed shut. He was so pissed, pissed at Yuuri for continuing something that he'd just figured out wasn't such a good idea, pissed at the fact that the other boy automatically assumed he would submit, and damnit, he liked his cravat!

And through all of it, the Maou pinned his body down to the mattress, delighting in the angry growls and curses Wolfram threw at him. Yuuri struck like a snake, his head coming down and biting roughly on the blonde boy's shoulder.

The mazoku stiffened beneath him, his forehead digging into the pillow as a wail broke through the air, cut off by an agitated snarl. He tried to lift his head and turn to glare at the other boy, and caught sight of the wineglass sitting innocuously on the bedstand. Now, when did Yuuri...?

His thoughts were cut off as the other boy took advantage of his vulnerable position, pulling the cloth around his arms tight enough that he couldn't move as Yuuri set to removing his pants. He couldn't help himself, sighing as his painful erection was freed of it's restraints.

"Better?" The dark-haired boy whispered into the shell of his ear, suggestively. The movement of his lips brushed against hot skin, warm breath passing over the sensitive area. Wolfram jerked in response, eyes wide as he realized his blunder. His lips curled back into a sardonic grin, snorting disdainfully.

"It'd be better if you'd get off of me before you broke my back." It wasn't true, of course; the forceful pressure Yuuri was exerting didn't exactly hurt, but it kept him from being able to move. At that point, however, he was scrambling to come up with any stinging comments he could think of. He found he rather liked the rampant surge of adrenaline searing through his blood that his anger brought on, giving the entire scene a wild edge to it that was strangely...enticing.

For a moment, it was quiet behind him, as though Yuuri were lost in thought. Wolfram pressed his cheek to the pillow, waiting patiently, jade green eyes gleaming in the dim room. What will your next move be, Your Majesty?

And then the dark-haired boy started moving. For a minute, the blonde actually thought he was going to get off of him, but he reached above Wolfram's head, past the wineglass, and reached into the bowl of scented oil the maids kept putting on their bedstand. There was a warm hand planted on his backside, and his eyes abruptly snapped open as he realized Yuuri's intent.

Oh, God.

The bottom corner of his eyelid started twitching. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to piss Yuuri off, if the other boy was going to completely skip foreplay because of it...

Wolfram's breathing picked up as slender fingers emerged from the bowl, slick and dripping and glistening from the oil. It wasn't that he didn't want it, or that he wasn't...aroused enough yet. No, he was definately ready for it, so why was he so hesitant?

Because this may be the one and only time I get to be with him like this, and I want to make it last. He finally concluded. But...am I willing to risk this one chance by stopping him?

The warm oil dripped over his lower back as Yuuri slid down to straddle his thighs. The hand resting against him moved over to grasp his hip, steadying him, as wet fingers pressed to skin and slid down his spine. His eyes squeezed shut and he gasped harshly as they dipped between soft flesh, finding the tense pucker unerringly.

"S...stop!" He finally found the breath to sputter out, his arms pulling at the shirt still binding them together.

Though he didn't see it, behind him, Yuuri was smirking. "Don't move. I mean it, this time." He paused, eyes skimming over the naked body beneath him. "Just stay still, then I'll take the shirt off of you." The tip of his finger slid, slowly, past the tight ring of muscles.

For the second time that night, Wolfram's eyes went wide as a strangled, hoarse groan wrenched itself from his throat. Yuuri didn't even pause, keeping up the slow, intense motion until his index finger was buried deep inside. The blonde unconsciously tried to spread his legs, but the Maou's knees on either side of his body prevented him from doing much. Experimentally, Yuuri curled his finger, rubbing at the warm muscles until Wolfram's entire body spasmed.

After that, the dark-haired boy didn't waste anymore time, though every in-and-out motion of his finger was slow and deliberate, designed to irritate the blonde writhing wantonly on the sheets. With his free hand, he reached up and kept his promise, freeing Wolfram's arms from the blue cloth holding them still. Slender, toned arms pulled from the sleeves and immediately began clawing at the bed, as if he were looking for something to grasp on to.

By the time Yuuri felt that he'd properly stretched Wolfram, sweat was practically running in rivulets off the boy's body. Harsh breaths passed over a slack jaw, and his eyes had turned such a dark shade of green that they were almost black, glazed over from satisfaction.

Wolfram moaned weakly as the other boy retracted his fingers, fervently searching to replace the lost sensations. His hips rocked against the bed, desperate, not even the insistant brushing of silk against his aching length enough to calm him.

Yuuri rubbed at his hips soothingly, rearranging himself so he was sitting between Wolfram's legs. "Be patient." He murmured, eyes glued to the frustrated body beneath him. In response, the blonde slid his legs apart until his toes met the edges on both sides of the bed, insistantly, demanding that Yuuri finish what he'd started.

When the other boy didn't react as fast as Wolfram would have liked, the mazoku's eyes cracked open just the slightest, sliding ever-so-slowly to look over his shoulder without once ever moving his head. His lips parted, his tongue tentatively sneaking out and wetting his lips. Without once taking that smoldering gaze off of the boy behind him, he started moving against the bed again, but the motions were controlled now. He wasn't frantic for release, no, because this wasn't for him. This...this wanton, sensual, snake-like dance was intended just for Yuuri's eyes.

Every movement was weaved with purpose, a parody of what they were about to do. His hips bucked backwards and up, leisurely, repeatedly, his feet alternately stretching and tensing. Yuuri's eyes were focused on the rolling motion of his lower back with every up and down motion, his jaw dropping and his eyelids lowering as Wolfram...got even more into his act.

The blonde's eyes slid shut as the first quiet whimpers started filling the air. Before tonight, he never would have guessed he was able to make those kinds of noises, but he was grateful for them as Yuuri's hands tightened on his hips. He wailed as fingers dug into his skin, groping down towards his thighs and squeezing harshly.

One hand left him as the other released it's grip and tenderly brushed along the inside of Wolfram's thigh. He sighed, his entire body relaxing into the soft bed beneath him at the comforting motion.

"Mm...AHHH!" Shit, no one ever said it would hurt this much. Yuuri intentionally waited until he didn't suspect anything before he slammed home, and he was completely inside in just two thrusts. The shock of it nearly paralyzed him, but the momentary stillness eventually came to an end as everything went rushing back into motion. Wildly, he fought against the body invading him, legs bending and kicking against the sheets, but never closing.

Like some unspoken signal, he stilled the moment Yuuri caressed his cheek, the backs of his knuckles dragging gently over flushed skin. He couldn't seem to control his breathing, desperately gulping in air even as he slowly relaxed again. The painful, burning sensation receded somewhat as he slumped against the bed, and Yuuri leaned down to plant a wet kiss against his cheek.

The only sounds in the room were tiny gasps and mewls as Wolfram tried to adjust to the feel of Yuuri inside him. The dark-haired boy lay atop his back, still, occasionally moaning in the blonde's ear when he moved a certain way.

It only took a few moments before the mazoku finally quieted, and Yuuri lifted himself away. Wolfram squirmed as the pain lost it's edge, now only luxuriating in what he could feel-- Yuuri's body was so hot, surrounding him, so hot that the blonde feared he was scalding his insides. The other boy was buried deep, joined with him in such a primal way.

He wanted to see Yuuri's face.

"Ahh-- erm, Wolf-- AH!" Wolfram's cries rose in harmony to the dark-haired boy's, as he slowly, painstakingly, started rolling himself over onto his back. Yuuri's sex twisted inside of him, rubbing at every hypersensitive muscle, the sensation only heightened as the blonde bent his knee nearly up to his chest in order to get it around the Maou's taut body. He could barely keep himself moving, the way his neck arched upwards seemingly without command. He was sure everyone in the castle could hear the resounding wails emitting from his throat, and with the way Yuuri was yelling, he expected guards to come bursting through the door any minute.

He finally settled with his legs propped up and spread wide, his feet flat against the bed and nearly perpendicular to the rest of his body. Dazedly, Wolfram wondered when exactly Yuuri had taken his clothes off. Instinctively, he shut his eyes and his head dropped back against the pillow as the other boy shifted.

He groped the mazoku's ankle, firmly stroking his way up to caress the back of his knee and down to the soft, satiny flesh of the insides of his thighs. The blonde's jaw slackened, a breathy sigh slipping past pliant lips as Yuuri's hand left his leg to cup his chin gingerly. He didn't expect the slow trickle of some unknown liquid to slither into his mouth, so the instant the cold substance touched his tongue, his eyes opened wide and focused on Yuuri's face.

The dark-haired boy looked completely enchanted. Above Wolfram's head was the wineglass, tipped ever-so-slightly. The blonde's first instinct was to avoid swallowing, and the drink soon flooded his mouth, a thin stream making it's way from the corner of his lips, to his chin, weaving a seductive red pattern all the way down his neck.

He quickly gulped the liquid down, making a small, protesting noise even as Yuuri's finger rubbed over his bottom lip, creeping inside and behind it, sliding to where the wet trail from his mouth began and tracing it reverently. He stopped just before his finger dipped underneath Wolfram's chin, contemplating the soft flesh momentarily before leaning forward and rubbing his cheek against the blonde's, nudging his head to the side to give him better access to Wolfram's neck as he sat the glass down again. He reached above him and grabbed both of the mazoku's wrists in a firm grip, dragging them down and leisurely stretching them out to the side so Wolfram's curled fingers were at level with his shoulders.

With a quiet, defeated whine, the blonde's opposite cheek lowered to the pillow and he lifted his chin, sprawled helplessly as the dark-haired boy thoroughly molested him. The added pressure of Yuuri still hard inside of him served to make his body twice as sensitive; he was keenly aware of every soft, sucking kiss applied to the bottom of his jaw, every wet sound Yuuri's lips made when he parted from the skin reminding him of a match striking to life. His brows knitted, lips closed tightly around the forced, "Mmph..." that fought it's way through his throat as the dark-haired boy nuzzled the base of his neck...and clamped down harshly with his teeth. The blonde cried out, pressing his face to the pillow and attempting to reach up and wrap his arms around the other boy's back, but he was quickly reprimanded as Yuuri tightened his grasp until Wolfram was sure his wrists would bruise and shoved them deeper into the mattress.

"Aaaaaaahh..." The blonde's fingers spasmed as the Maou's teeth dug into soft flesh until it burned, suckling the delicate skin harshly. Yuuri had returned to that state of animalistic greed, starving with the need to own, to possess, and things were quickly getting out of hand.

The insistant sucking at his neck was starting to hurt. His legs gradually straightened and stretched out as the pain increased, along with it a carnal need to be marked, and a staggering sense of victory as he was viciously claimed. His legs started kicking upwards uselessly; he wasn't doing it to make Yuuri stop. No...the power in such volatile indulgence overwhelmed him to a degree that all he could do was writhe under the current of it.

Not once did Yuuri move his hips.

It was insanely frustrating, as he twisted and sobbed and fought to make him do something, but the dark-haired boy kept a tight reign on his control. Wolfram was only getting half of what his body desperately craved, like an itch that was only rubbed at, never satisfied.

And it didn't look like Yuuri was going to finish anytime soon. He reluctantly pulled away from Wolfram's neck, releasing his wrists long enough to grab the wine again. The blonde watched him with eyes pitched in the deepest shade of green, clouded over with feral lust. One glance at the mazoku beneath him, and Yuuri knew that Wolfram would only take so much more provocation before he retaliated.

The glass was tipped again, and this time it was splashed from wrist to wrist, the fluid drenching the boy's collar bone and licking its way to the crook of his neck before dripping on the sheets. It only settled there for a scant of a second before Yuuri's mouth came down, nipping a little more tamely than he had before. His lips never left the blonde's flesh as he dragged his mouth along the trail on his arm, only pulling away just before he reached the joint between hand and forearm. He gently slid his hand under Wolfram's, squeezing the appendage gradually as his mouth lowered.

Wolfram never took his eyes off of him, head angled to take in the other boy's every move. Then he yelped, shocked, as the grip on his hand tightened brutally, forcing his wrist at an upward angle as Yuuri bit down roughly. It ripped through him and made his entire body weak, and the blonde roared as the sensation headed straight to his groin. God, he was so hard already, and Yuuri refused to do anything about it but tease him mercilessly.

The mazoku's eyes widened and lit with an icy glare.

He caught him as Yuuri was making his way to repeat the treatment on his other wrist, snapping out and claiming the dark-haired boy's ear. He relished in the confused yelp, knowing he'd succeeded in attaining some form of victory.

The blonde used everything in his arsenal, wrapping his lips around the delightfully pliant shell, swiping his tongue along the edges, slipping the muscle as deeply inside of the opening as he could as he made love to Yuuri's ear. The stuttered panting and cut-off moans were a sweet balm to his sense of vengeance, and he refused to let go when the other boy tried to pull away.

A flash of fear hit him as a loud, rumbling snarl sounded next to him, but he refused to back down, even as he was taken by the wrists again, and teeth and tongue and lips lashed at any part of his person they could reach. He kept tugging, biting down on that single piece of Yuuri like it belonged solely to him...

He did let go, however, as the boy rocked his hips back and bucked sharply, the sheer force from his thrust pushing Wolfram further up on the bed. The blonde was shaking fiercely at the action, his hands and thighs trembling from the shock. And just like that, Yuuri was in control again.

A hand was pressed to his mouth as the dark-haired boy repeated the action three more times, muffling every one of Wolfram's shouts. It was a punishing blow, the blonde realized, as Yuuri didn't move again afterwards.

The fingers pressed to his lips relaxed, rubbing the offended area soothingly. They urged his mouth open, and when he didn't comply, Yuuri's hips rocked forward again. His lips parted as he moaned, allowing the Maou's fingers inside, and he laved it with his tongue until they were nearly soaked.

His hand was pulled away as he finally settled into an intense back and forth motion, each thrust hard, but leisurely. Wolfram's hands fisted in the sheets as wet fingers tightened around his arousal, Yuuri's thumb rubbing circles at the tip. The boy above him looked nearly possessed, and all he could do was stare up at the face he loved so much, sweat dripping off of his body in rivulets. He finally submitted himself, relaxing completely into the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest. His feet settled against Yuuri's shoulders as their voices raised together in a steady crescendo of cries and shuddering breaths, and young bodies so eagerly drenched themselves in sin. Yuuri's hand was stroking him unevenly and it drove him wild-- one minute he was sighing in gratification, and the next, he was growling from loss. The other boy didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing, so lost in Wolfram's body that his eyes were taken over by a dark lust and his concentration broken by every assuaging motion of their hips.

The blonde gasped as the atmosphere suddenly changed, and Yuuri was no longer interested in the easy pace they'd settled on. He reared up, his eyes glowing under the dim light, and then Wolfram was forced to fling his arms out above him and grasp the headboard desperately as each severe thrust came faster and harder than the last. He had an irrational fear of being tossed right off the bed from Yuuri's enthusiasm, screaming from the pain, the ecstasy...

"Sl..slow down...Oh, G- God, slow down!" But he was frantically trying to keep up, hips rolling up as he tried to ride it out with Yuuri, tried to soothe the intense ache they'd both managed to acquire. The dark-haired boy still had a grip on his sex, working him into a frenzy as a fire started deep in the pit of his belly, furious, licking temptingly at his insides...

"YUURI!"

It was a while before he came back to his senses, body shuddering violently in the aftermath of his orgasm. It was the stark contrast of the cold floor against his bare legs in comparison to the soft sheets that brought reality crashing back to him.

He stared at his hand in disgust, covered in his own come. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself doing this...

But it was definately the first time he'd done it with Yuuri less than three feet away from him.

The boy was laying on his back, in the same spot he'd been in since he passed out. Wolfram cursed his luck, mourning remembered kisses and where they could have led.

Damnit, I had him! If I hadn't let him drink so much...

His head lowered and he stared at his hand again. If I hadn't let him drink so much I wouldn't have even been kissed tonight.

He felt pathetic. As soon as they'd stumbled into the room, Yuuri had finally consumed more alcohol than his body could rightly handle, dropping like a sack of potatoes on the floor. At first, Wolfram had intended on just dressing for bed and acknowledging the lost opportunity, but the second he'd turned around to look at the unconscious boy, it was over. As the blonde had been undressing, Yuuri was shifting in his sleep, his shirt riding up to display just the smallest strip of stomach. Before Wolfram knew it, he'd settled himself on the floor as well, his legs spread wide and his back propped against the foot of the bed and he worked at the frustration growing just below his navel.

Looking at him now, though, the mazoku wasn't sure exactly how unaware Yuuri was...

There was a bulge in the other boy's pants that he couldn't ignore. He felt like the lowest person in existance as he crawled over on all fours, reaching out and lightly running his fingers over the cloth covering Yuuri's member. It jumped under his hand in response, and the sleeping boy hummed appreciatively, head turning to the side.

Would he wake up, he wondered?

Wolfram cautiously unzipped and unbuttoned Yuuri's pants, tugging them and his underwear down around his thighs. His hands gently caressed the sensitive flesh again, savoring the sensation of smooth skin before he threw one leg over the dark-haired boy's prone body, wrapping his still slick hand around him and slowly building him up to release. Not once did his pace alter, sluggish, maddening throughout the whole ordeal, fascinated with the way Yuuri responded even though he wasn't conscious. Fascinated by the way his cheeks flushed, his mouth parted in a quiet moan...

It seemed like it was over far too soon, as Yuuri's body arched upwards and he sighed with relief. Once again, Wolfram's hand was wet, but it didn't seem so bad this time...

There was an angry rap on the door that had the blonde sitting bolt upright, eyes wide in shock.

"Your Majesty?! Wolfram! What have you done to him? Why are your clothes scattered about the castle?!" Ah, his cravat and his belt.

Each knock boiled his blood, outraged that Gunter would actually interrupt if he thought he and Yuuri were being intimate. He sat up and stalked over to one of the dresser drawers, finding what he was looking for and snatching it on.

No one ever said Wolfram wasn't a spiteful little bastard.

He swung the door open and met Gunter's eyes, and watched in amusement as irritation faded from the man's face and was quickly replaced by shock.

And Wolfram stood there, in nothing more than a nightshirt-- Yuuri's nightshirt, that barely reached past his thighs. He hadn't even bothered buttoning it, merely slung it around his shoulders and held it together with a tight fist.

He stared at Gunter with sated eyes, looking for all intents and purposes as if he'd just had the best lay of his life, hair mussed and thighs glistening with the evidence of completion. The other man opened his mouth to say something, but Wolfram beat him to it.

"What are you yelling about, Gunter?" He purred, obviously enjoying his act. "Yuuri's trying to sleep." He caught Gunter trying to look around him, and he allowed the man a brief glance at the similar state Yuuri was in, before stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him.

"You...you've defiled His Majesty!" Gunter wailed, covering his face with his hands. Wolfram smirked, reaching out with his free hand and yanking the older man close enough that he could easily whisper in his ear.

"Yes." It was a simple answer, hissed out between clenched teeth. "God, Gunter, I never thought being handled so roughly could feel so fucking good." Gunter's face was frozen in a mask of horror as he let go of the man. "But I'm filthy. If you don't mind, I'm going to take a bath...Goodnight." And he swaggered down the hall, throwing a glance over his shoulder just as all the blood rushed from Gunter's face...

And exploded from his nose.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:11:02 GMT

Title: The Real Santa
Author: Chu
Rating: R
Genre: Comedy
Pairings: Yuuri/Wolfram, Gwendal/Gunter
Summary: Warning to those of you who may not like the idea of a little kid seeing things decidedly not kid-friendly. Greta's expecting Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, and she's determined to catch him in the act.

She honestly tried her best to keep quiet, sneaking down the hallways as quickly as she could without disturbing anyone. It seemed, however, that the more she tried to be soundless in her short journey to the large foyer, the soft pitter-patter of her small, bare feet became even more distinct. She thought of the story Yuuri read to put her to sleep tonight, and concentrated on not stirring anything, just like the mouse he'd described.

At least, she thought it was a mouse.

For the past three weeks Greta had been so excited about the prospect of "Christmas", and now, on Christmas Eve, she could hardly focus on some silly fairytale. After all, a big fat man in red was going to squeeze through their tiny chimney tonight, and Greta wanted to see it.

He was going to bring her things, too.

When Yuuri had explained this holiday from his world, Greta asked him why this Santa person never visited her before. Her recollections of a time when she wasn't living with Yuuri were grim and brought up repressed feelings of rejection and humility, and never did she see a jolly old fat man grinning and weilding a bag full of goodies.

In the eyes of childish simplicity, Yuuri's explanation made perfect sense: "Santa only visits people who believe in him," he'd said, sagely, "and if you're good, he'll bring you good things. But if you're bad..." He'd trailed off then, looking thoughtful. Greta was afraid of what would happen if she were bad, so for the past few weeks she ate all of her vegetables and she was pretty sure she hadn't complained once, hoping that was enough to make up for a year's worth of ill-behavior.

But tonight, she was risking it all, disobeying Yuuri and Wolfram's strict orders to stay in bed while Santa was here. Surely Santa wouldn't have enough time to recieve notice that she'd done something bad, if she'd only just done if before he got here!

From the moment the King informed her that no one had ever caught Santa in the act, much less seen him, she was determined to be the first one who did.

Which was why she knelt on the floor outside the foyer, small hands and feet tucked close to her body to ward off the slight chill. She was careful to keep herself hidden behind the doorframe, leaving just enough space between herself and the wall to let her peek around the corner.

What she ended up seeing wasn't quite anything she'd expected. The room wasn't empty, like she was afraid it would be-- Yuuri wouldn't lie to her, would he?-- but there was no fat red man in there. After all, neither Yuuri nor Wolfram were fat or red. Well, right now Wolfram was kind of red-looking in those clothes, but...

Wolfram looked particularly nice in his outfit, she admitted to herself. He covered in red and white soft-looking fabrics, with just a splash of black at his belt and a funny hat perched jauntily on his head. It looked as though it were in danger of sliding right off of him, though, and his cheeks were flushed a deep red, his face a little damp, as if he'd been running somewhere.

He was sitting on top of the fireplace, and for a moment Greta wondered how he'd gotten there. Despite the fact that it wasn't very large, the mantle was pretty high off the ground-- Yuuri was standing in front of the other boy, and even on his tippy-toes his head just barely managed to break even with Wolfram's tummy, which wasn't fat at all, she reminded herself, and Yuuri's neck was cradled between two red-clad thighs. Both of them had smiles on their faces, and if Greta had been a little older she would have recognized them as conspiratorial grins.

They were speaking to each other in soft tones, and even when she strained she couldn't hear them. Frustrated, she took her little plan a step further and crawled noiselessly into the room, settling behind a couch not far from the two boys.

"If she does come down here, you're not going to fool her." Yuuri murmured, and Greta thought it might be odd for someone to be talking into another person's leg, but Yuuri seemed to have no problem with it as he nuzzled Wolfram's hip. He looked up, and she caught sight of his grin. "You're not fat."

"There was no way you could make me stuff my clothes with pillows and wear that ridiculous beard. Red happens to be my color, and I think I look just fine the way I am." Wolfram pouted, one pale hand encircled by fluffy white coming down on Yuuri's head to comb through his hair, and Greta thought that Yuuri's hair looked fine and Wolfram didn't need to fix it for him.

"But Greta was looking forward to seeing a fat man!" Yuuri chuckled, arms coming up to stroke the outside of Wolfram's thighs. It looked weird to her, because Yuuri was between Wolfram's legs, and why would the blonde need him to stroke them? "Every time she talked about him she always made sure to mention he was fat." And then they both laughed, and they laughed as if they didn't want anyone to hear them. Mousy, she thought.

And then Yuuri touched Wolfram in a place that she'd never seen anyone touch someone else before, and Wolfram made a noise not like anything she'd heard before, but it didn't sound like the blonde minded, so she kept quiet.

"If she doesn't buy it, that's okay." Greta wondered why Wolfram sounded so breathless. Maybe he was coming down with a fever? "I'm still waiting for the real Santa to show up." Her little heart started racing at that last sentence, and she had to tell herself over and over again to calm down, because she didn't want her heart to jump out of her chest and disturb the two boys who were barely five feet away from her.

"The real Santa?" Yuuri was quiet, contemplative, and Greta saw him kiss Wolfram in the same spot he'd touched before, followed by another strange sound from the blonde. Yuuri's hand reached up to Wolfram's face, sliding up his cheek and then his fingers copied the same brushing motion that the other boy did before, and it disturbed the hat resting precariously on Wolfram's head. Greta pouted to herself as it landed on the floor without a sound...she'd liked that hat.

Wolfram bent down so he could reach Yuuri's face, and Greta watched quietly when they kissed each other, as mommies and daddies were supposed to kiss, and tried not to get annoyed at the weird sounds they were making. And, ewww, she thought as their lips parted with a wet noise-- did they drool on each other? Greta decided she wasn't really so sure about all of this adult stuff. It didn't make much sense to kiss like that if all it did was get someone else's slobber on you.

Wolfram's head was tilted back now, mouth open and bruised, and Greta frowned angrily at the thought of Yuuri hurting the blonde. She almost got up to give him a piece of her mind when an almost inaudible click resounded in the room, and she saw Wolfram's red pants loosen as Yuuri's head ducked down between his legs. The blonde shivered, and Greta decided she'd had enough. Honestly, first Yuuri hurts Wolfram's mouth and now he's taking his clothes off when it was so obviously chilly tonight? What was wrong with him? She thought of the thick winter coat hanging in their room, and decided to bring it to Wolfram. And when she did, she'd give Yuuri what-for!

She crawled hastily out of the foyer and nearly tripped over two large feet. Parent feet, she thought to herself absently, and in the back of her head something was warning her to run, that she was in trouble, but she was too focused on getting that coat to Wolfram before he caught a cold.

"Greta?" And she froze.

Gwendal's large, imposing form towered over her, and for a moment she was afraid. Not even his puppies-and-kittens print pajamas or the tall glass of milk in his hand managed to dampen his intimidating stance. "What are you doing up this late?"

Greta was young, but she wasn't stupid. She tried to divert his attention-- "You got up for a glass of milk, Gwendal? I'm glad I'm not the only one who does that. I was starting to feel like a little kid."

It seemed to work, because two pink dots formed under Gwendal's eyes. "It's not for me."

Greta pushed, hoping she could make him completely forget his earlier question if she asked a lot of them, herself. "It's for a cat, then?" She asked, hopefully.

"Yes." That answer didn't sound right to her, but before she could open her mouth and pose another question, he beat her to it. "So you came down for milk?"

Greta knew not to lie. It was bad to lie, after all. "No." she admitted, guiltily. "I wanted to see Santa, but then I came down and Yuuri and Wolfram were in the foyer, and Wolfram was dressed funny, and I was going to get his coat for him because he shivered and he looked cold." She glared balefully in the direction of the foyer as she was reminded why the other boy was cold.

"Wolfram asked for his coat?" Gwendal peeked around the corner into the room and a funny expression crossed over his face. "Greta, let's get you back to sleep."

"But--"

"I promise you, Wolfram does not want his coat right now." And Gwendal wasn't mad, she saw, but for some reason he looked a little embarrassed. He walked her back to her room, and she trudged on, her plans thwarted. And when they passed Gwendal's room, she tried not to think too hard about why Gunter was in there-- was he lost? He looked cold, too, she decided, but she didn't tell Gwendal about this. The tall man seemed to like it when people were cold, and that made Greta just a little mad.

When she was tucked back into her bed, she finally decided to sleep instead of continuing her Santa-hunt. So Christmas wasn't quite as magical as she'd first thought, but it was definitely weird.

Somehow, that didn't make her feel as disappointed as she thought she should have been.

She snuggled into her sheets and tried very hard to go to sleep. After all, she couldn't be awake when the real Santa got here.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:09:59 GMT

Title: None. I'm still a loser.
Author: Chu
Rating: Umm...R for molesteration and shtuff.
Genre: Humor
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram

"Wolfram? What are you doing just standing there?"

The sound startled the blonde, head whipping around so fast that Yuuri was afraid he'd hurt himself. "I'm watching them." He indicated the soldiers training beneath them. Most of them were just stretching, doing various exercises, a few of them which the dark-haired boy was happy to admit he recognized.

"It looks just like the stretches our coach made the team do to warm up." He nodded to himself. "Push-ups, squats, lunges, leg wrestling..." He frowned. "Although I don't see anyone doing the last one."

"Leg wrestling?" A curious gleam lit Wolfram's eyes.

"You don't have that here?" Yuuri leaned against the window sill, turning to face his companion. Wolfram was silent for a moment.

"No, we don't." Wolfram sidled closer to the other boy. "I'm interested." He purred succinctly. "Show me how."

Yuuri was more than a little disturbed at the blonde's provocative tone. "Um...you need two people..."

"Then do it with me." Wolfram claimed the dark-haired boy's right arm for his own, holding it close to his chest. Yuuri sputtered incoherently, both at the possessive grip and at what he hoped was an unintentional double entendre.

"Y- you have to lay on the floor..." His voice cracked a bit, and he tugged helplessly at his captured arm, hoping Wolfram would find such a suggestion to be totally unacceptable for a noble and leave the issue alone. Unfortunately for him, Wolfram was all too eager to yank them both down, forcing Yuuri to land on his knees and straddle the blonde to keep from falling completely on top of him. "Not like this!" The dark-haired boy yelped, scrambling away.

Once he felt he'd gained enough distance from the other boy, he sat down next to him so they were both facing opposite directions. He tried to control the instinct to keep at least an inch between their bodies, but as he lined their hips up, he realized he couldn't make it work unless their sides were pressed together.

Wolfram was already on his back, and when Yuuri joined him, he said, stiffly, "Grab my arm." He copied the movement, both of them gripping the other's forearm, while their left hands lay limp beside them. "Okay...lift your leg, the one on the inside, every time I count off...then on three, wrap..." He stumbled in his speech, realizing how suggestive it sounded-- what he didn't admit to himself was that it sounded suggestive because of the way he was thinking about it. "Wrap your leg around mine and push until one of us flips backwards."

"I think I've got it." Yuuri *really* didn't like the smirk that stretched across Wolfram's face.

"One...two...three!" The dark-haired boy tried not to think too hard about how Wolfram's leg felt when they came in contact. The blonde's leg muscles were really toned, strong enough that Yuuri almost rocked back several times. He tried not to think about the implications of that, either.

For a moment, Yuuri was sure he was about to lose, and then Wolfram backed off.

Huh?

The motion left them hanging, a dead heat where both of them were locked in the middle and neither were closer to winning than the other. It wasn't until after Wolfram repeated this several times, and their legs were both trembling, that Yuuri finally said something. "What are you *doing*?"

Wolfram lifted his head up, grinning. And then Yuuri couldn't see his face anymore, because his own lower body was blocking him from view. "ACK!"

After all that had happened so far, Yuuri wasn't surprised when Wolfram didn't completely flip him over. "Wolf..." He managed to get out through a constricted diaphragm, "I think you've won now. Let me go, I don't wanna flip over!"

"But you said it wasn't over until one of us flipped backwards." The blonde might as well have been speaking to Yuuri's ass. He found the position particularly entertaining, with Yuuri's leg lifted up to his chest and his sweet bottom canted upwards.

"Fine, flip me, but hurry up--"

Yuuri paused when he felt Wolfram release his arm.

And froze when delicate, pale fingers stroked over the curve of his rear, then had the audacity to trace the faint line down the middle.

"AH!" Yuuri started rocking on his back, wondering vaguely if this was how a capsized turtle felt. He didn't realize all he managed to do was wag his hips and provide even more amusement for his companion. "STOP MOLESTING ME!"

He planted both hands on the ground and then clumsily flipped himself the rest of the way, landing on his knees and staring at the blonde, laying comfortably on the floor with his legs now spread, and a coy smile on his face. Wolfram neatly rose to his feet. "That was fun."

Yuuri gaped.

"Maybe next time you can teach me something else." And then he turned on his heel, walking out the room without another word.

"And then he...he TOUCHED me! Indecently!"

Yuuri was ranting to the first person he'd come across after the incident, which just happened to be Gwendal. He was trying to sound serious, as sexual violation was a serious offense, but it didn't help that Gwendal just looked downright uncomfortable. He even sported a light blush. "Why on earth were you leg wrestling with Wolfram?"

"He asked me-- wait, you know what leg wrestling is?" Gwendal, despite his aversion to the topic, nodded.

"When he was being trained, his squad did that. But he was so terrible to his opponents that the Colonel eventually pulled him out and wouldn't let him participate anymore." The older man looked a little irritated. "He would tease them and hold them in place as long as possible, even if the person he was against was easy for him to beat...he thought it was fun."

The only response from Yuuri was a face frozen in outrage and a soft, strained exhalation of breath.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:07:18 GMT

Title: None, because I'm a loser.
Author: Chu
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe. =X
Genre: Romance, smut
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram

It was hours past when he should have fallen asleep, occupying himself by repeatedly poking his snoring fiancee in high hopes that he would soon quit. It seemed as though the other boy was thoroughly unconscious, however, as the only response he got was sharp twitch and a sigh.

Wolfram gave up, rolling onto his stomach and noting, almost absently, that the room felt a little cold. He suspected this small discomfort was the only thing keeping him from sleep, though he was unsure of how to solve this problem when he was snuggled deeply under the covers. It wasn't like he could play the leech and soak up Yuuri's body heat-- it was a known fact that the brunette had a built-in radar that alerted him every time Wolfram got too close. He maintained a precarious balance, close enough to give off the appearance of casualty, but far enough away that it remained distant, impersonal.

To Wolfram, the implications that came along with that reaction might as well have been as impenetrable as a brick wall seated firmly between them.

Discomfitted, he flopped over onto his back and glared at the top of the silky canopy above them. It had been that way from the start, it seemed; Yuuri denying his affections, running away, keeping himself at arm's length. Wolfram was aware that the only thing behind Yuuri's off-putting behavior towards him was the knowledge that, under all the smiles and lingering touches lay something that demanded much more of him than the love of a close friend.

Limbs writhing, bodies slick with sweat and hot to the touch, a creaking bed and long moans that echoed off the walls.

It had been a long time since Wolfram had blushed over something sexual in nature. It seemed, with Yuuri's arrival, all of his boyish tendencies sprung back to life and every mention of carnal pleasures heated his face, as long as the dark-haired boy was involved. Lately, even his own fantasies seemed outrageously appealing, just the thought of what he wanted to do to Yuuri, or what he wanted Yuuri to do to him, left him feeling shaky and just a little out of breath.

His fingers clenched in the sheets, and for a moment, he contemplated the wisdom of reaching down and soothing the building ache between his thighs. It was something he was not unfamiliar with, this lewd act of touching himself while his fiancee lay sleeping not three feet away. Doing it was pure torture every time, forced to be quiet, to go slow, to keep his body from going so tense that he would disturb the other boy. But his patience and concentration rewarded him, allowing him time to thoroughly ravage Yuuri's body with his eyes so that he was the last thing Wolfram saw before he reached completion. There was one particularly delightful night when Yuuri's head tipped to the side and his pajamas slipped just the slightest, and the sight of his neck bared and vulnerable was all it took to send the blonde over the edge.

He'd already made up his mind by then, and it was just terrible timing when a warm arm dropped limply atop his own.

He turned his head to stare at the place where their bodies came in contact, wondering at the extreme oddity-- then shrugged off the lack of restraint as a byproduct of Yuuri's exhaustion. He studied the feel of that arm, the way Yuuri was not entirely soft, bones and muscles laying under pliant flesh. He suspected that snuggling up to the brunette wouldn't be at all like hugging the stuffed animals he'd had as a child, even the warm ones his mother stuffed with waterbottles.

All thoughts of his previous decision to satisfy himself at least once before he slept vanished, replaced by the curious notion of what it would feel like to sleep in Yuuri's arms.

The wave of disappointment that came when that single point of contact was cut off and Yuuri propped himself up on his elbows must have shown on his face. "Can't sleep?" Yuuri's voice was thick and somewhat incoherent with sleep, eyes groggy and unfocused when he turned to look at the blonde. "Wolfram?" He yawned. "Do you want a glass of water or something?"

Sweet, compassionate Yuuri. It was this side of his personality that Wolfram called weak, but the thing that endeared him to everyone-- including the one person who put it down. He had no idea how very unguarded his soft-heartedness made him, or that the susceptibility drew the blonde to him with the desire to shelter and protect. In a world where not very many people cared, it was an alluring quality.

But Yuuri had his own strengths.

"Hug me." The words left his mouth without much thought attached to them, a demand that hung in the air while Yuuri seemed to become more aware of his surroundings.

"What? Why--" His fiancee looked adorably confused.

"Here...turn over...wrap your arms around me." Wolfram rolled to his side, waiting expectantly. Yuuri reacted predictably; his face reddened and for a moment he looked more than a little uncomfortable, but in the end his caring nature won out and he reluctantly settled his hands on the blonde's shoulders.

"Not like that." Wolfram made a noise of disgust, and then he showed Yuuri how to properly embrace someone, pulling himself so close that it seemed as though he were trying to bury himself under the brunette's skin and snaking his arms under and around. For a moment, the pure bliss of sensation made him ignore the unpleasant way Yuuri's body tensed, and by the time his personal euphoria wore off, the other boy was relaxed again. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh stirred a few blonde strands of hair at the top of his head.

Yuuri's chest rumbled when he said, "You feel nice." He sounded somewhat baffled, as if he'd expected Wolfram to feel like jagged stone in his arms.

There was no moon tonight, and outside, an ocean of stars were the only points of light in the sky. It left their room blanketed in darkness, aiding the comforters that were pulled up to their shoulders in hiding them from the rest of the world. It was so dark that, Wolfram hoped, Yuuri couldn't see the enamored expression on his face when he stretched up and brushed the brunette's lips with his own.

The expected retreat came, and Wolfram was pleased to note that it only took a soft touch at the back of Yuuri's neck to stop him from completely breaking the connection. It was the most innocent of kisses, more of a gentle slide of lips on lips, and the blonde was quickly overwhelmed by gentle affection and the shock of sensation each time their mouths brushed against the other. He started to pull away, to end it there before he further invaded Yuuri's personal space and made him even more uncomfortable, but he barely managed to seperate from the other boy before he dove back down again.

He wasn't sure if it was out of drowsy acceptance or if Yuuri actually wanted to, but after a series of kisses left on the boy's mouth he slowly began to respond. It was all the encouragement Wolfram needed-- he took the next opportunity, when the other boy's mouth was open, and his tongue snaked inside.

Yuuri's body jerked in surprise, and when Wolfram pulled away this time, he started to protest. "Wait..."

"Are you going to tell me now that you don't want it?" The blonde mumbled around a mouthful of Yuuri's bottom lip. Under the covers, his hand searched for something, and it was then that he realized how easily Yuuri was aroused. "Mmm? Already like this?" He gave the bulge in the dark-haired boy's pajamas a firm rub, delighting in the answering moan.

Wolfram finally pulled away, and delicate fingers brushed over his own neck when he said, "That's alright." The tips of his fingernails ghosted over pale skin as they slid downward, catching onto the nightgown and dragging it down to reveal a smooth shoulder. "You can do anything you want."

The invitation was purposefully blatant, designed specifically for Yuuri's oblivious nature. Evidently, it worked, as the brunette's face tinted red and his eyes widened slightly. For a moment, Wolfram thought the other boy was actually going to turn him down-- but then his eyes strayed to the exposed flesh of his shoulder, and the blonde shivered reflexively.

Yuuri's head lowered to kiss his neck, hesitantly, and that seemed to be the end of his restraint. Wolfram nearly curled in on himself when Yuuri brushed a few stray strands of hair out of the way and lips met with his jaw, just underneath his ear, travelling downward until his face was buried deeply in the crook of his neck. A strangled sound rose unbidden from Wolfram's chest, Yuuri's persistant sucking slowly turning the skin a fiery red as his hand rose up to where the blonde's still was, fingers sliding under the neckline of the pink fabric. The gown might as well have not been there at all, the brunette's hand brushing slowly down Wolfram's arm and taking the offensive cloth with it.

"Ahh!" The blonde's eyes squeezed shut and his back arched as Yuuri's teeth teased the already tender skin. He tossed his leg up over the brunette's hip, pulling himself closer and coming in contact with Yuuri's erection.

An animalistic noise escaped the other boy's mouth, and his hand abandoned the spot at Wolfram's arm to slide underneath his gown and grope his thigh. Suddenly, he was flipped over onto his back, Yuuri's hands cupping his knees and spreading them wide.

"What--" His words were cut off by a shocked yelp as the other boy ground his hips roughly into the space between his thighs, rocking against him and creating delicious friction that had his head tipped back and his jaw dropping open with pleased moans.

Yuuri kept a steady, even pace while he leaned down and captured Wolfram's lips, and soon their bedroom was filled with incoherent grunts and raspy breathing that seemed overpoweringly loud in the otherwise silent room. The position left the blonde feeling open and vulnerable, a strange mixture of insecurity and arousal following him into orgasm only moments later.

Yuuri's face was pressed into his neck, and once again his hand returned to Wolfram's thigh, stroking slowly. "Better now?"

"Mm."

The brunette attempted to roll off of him, but was stopped short when two slender arms wrapped around his waist and held firm.

"If you want to go to sleep, you're staying right here."

Yuuri wanted to tell him he wasn't an oversized teddy bear, then decided against it. Besides, Wolfram fell asleep so quickly that he doubted he would've understood a word he said.

Boo.

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 12:45:50 GMT

Hellur, and welcome to my fic journal.

I decided I have a huge slew of fanfiction that I want to keep archived, with easy access, so this journal was created...This is just an introductory post. I'll be putting my fanfics up soon, however.

This journal will be FRIENDS-LOCKED. So comment here to be added.

chuyuri

*grumbles*

Boo.

grumbles