KKM - Yuuram/S/S - Reappraisal - NC-17
Title: Reappraisal
Fandom: KKM
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram/Murata/Shinou
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Well, if you're reading this LJ you may already have noticed my inability to let things lie. Sequel to 'Reclamation'.
Murata Ken, the Great Sage and (unfortunately) hormonal teenager, stumbles out of the Maou's rooms. His cheeks are scarlet with shame and frustrated lust. He had never been so humiliated in his life! Or any of the past ten for that matter! Shibuya - no the Maou - had been so cold, so calculating and so very, very angry. The sound of voices jars him out of his daze and Murata dodges down a back corridor, making his way towards the gates.
He is very, very close to hating Shibuya right now. How dare that-that boy get angry because Ken had seen that Wolfram was pining for some form of contact, some sign that he was wanted and valued? He has a whole kingdom to play with and his choice of anyone he wants from several others. Is it not enough that he's taken what little of Shinou's soul remains? Why does he have to take what little solace Ken's managed to find too?
He is almost in tears as he stumbles into the Shrine and the Maidens let him past without question. The doors to the sanctuary are too big and too heavy to slam, but he tries anyway. The sense of his old friend/lover/beloved washes over him and he pulls off his glasses to scrub fiercely at his eyes.
He will not cry.
Instead he paces up and down, circling the boxes as he fights back waves of tears and searing rage. His shoes aren't fastened right and the rhythm of his steps isn't even. Click-click, click, click-click, click. 'Round and 'round, until his breath is short and dizziness combines with the tight ugly lump of misery crushing his lungs against his empty stomach to spin a kaleidoscope of shapes and colours in front of his eyes. He stops only when he crashes into one of the boxes, and then he can curse and lash out and be angry. One tear over-flows, oozing down his cheek and he dashes it away.
The lamps flicker, half of them going out as the a cold breeze drifts across the room. Ken freezes. Slowly, reluctantly, he turns his head to look at the door. The sound of the doors closing sounds far too much like the hollow boom of a tomb being sealed. Shibuya is standing just inside the doors, the flickering flames giving him the illusion of movement. His head is bowed and narrow eyes gleam through the fringe of dark hair. Ken stares back and the sting of humiliation becomes rising sea of fury.
He starts at moderate volume, the words hissing through gritted teeth as he turns to face the Maou full on. There is a lot of bottled up resentment and, his eyes bright with the light of his burning bridges, Ken lets it all come pouring out in a vitriolic wave of aggression and bitterness. The Maou doesn't even lift his head and this passivity adds fuel to the fire. He's shouting now, hands fisted at his sides. A tiny part of him remember Jose teaching him not to shout, that screaming wasn't the answer and that he shouldn't ever fight.
He strides towards that impassive, shadowy figure and his words are pure poison now. He's had thousands of years to learn how to wield words as other men wielded swords or guns and he chooses them deliberately now. Chooses them to hurt and burn and burrow into Yuuri's thoughts. A momentary flash of shame is drowned by the memory of the evening's entertainment and his rage swells up again at the memory of Wolfram tied the bed, tears in his eyes.
"You've left him behind already?" He's close enough, now to see the ripple of light and shadows across the tightening muscles. Delighted to see that he is having some affect, he presses forward. "Do you even care what this game means to him? Are you really truly cruel enough to keep him hanging until he starts to doubt and goes elsewhere for proof that he's wanted -needed - and then pull him back to grovel at your feet? Is that what you're going to reduce his life to? An endless series of back and forth, never knowing, trusting that he's worth more to you than a pretty ornament?"
They're almost face to face but Shibuya's head is still bowed, the long fringe still hiding his expression and the part of Ken that's still bleeding and bitter and hurting makes him want to push until Shibuya rips and tears and claws back. He opens his mouth again and picks the most acidic barb he can. "Do you give a damn about him at ALL?!"
Shibuya shudders once and the tension in his shoulders just ....dissolves. The gleam of his eyes flickers as he blinks and the light is just strong enough to gild the curl of his lower lip as he smirks.
"YOU BASTARD!" The dim light turns red as Ken takes a wild swing at the Maou. There is one of those awful, slow-motion moments. He has the incongruous thought that it is treason to raise one's hand to the Maou. Then the shock of impact. He stares, eyes painfully wide, at the hand clamped around his wrist.
Then Shibuya lifts his head and Ken is staring into cat-slit pupils as Shibuya's lips curl into a smile that he hasn't seen outside of his memories for thousands of years. He gasps, lips parting and the Maou swoops in to claim his lips in a fierce kiss.
Wolfram swears as he stumbles along the Shrine's main corridor, lurching from wall to wall like a drunken, land bound sailor. Every misstep and stumble makes the dull ache around his lower back flare into a stab of hot pain and he's sweaty with the effort of staying upright.
"Damned...wimp." He grits through clenched teeth. The ride to answer the almost hysterical appeal from the Shrine Maidens had been the stuff of nightmares. His horse had bounced a lot more than Wolfram thought it should have. He'd arrived at the front of the Shrine, glassy-eyed and hands cramped from the death-grip on the pommel of the saddle. He hadn't been able to dismount, finally resorting to an awkward half-slide, half-fall type of manoeuvre that he would never, ever live down if anyone other than the (cloistered) Maidens saw it.
Instead of respecting his wishes and leaving him to die in peace, the Maidens had pounced on him and all but dragged him bodily to the Shrine. He hadn't been able to get much more than the fact that Murata-Geika and Yuuri-heika were inside and that the Maidens were all very, very worried about this. The only other thing he was sure of was that all of them seemed to be expecting him to fix everything.
The great double doors of the Inner Sanctuary looms out of the shadows just in front of him and Wolfram sends a silent prayer of gratitude to the Shinou. He limps over to fumble with the door handles. The doors swung open, almost sending him face first into the sanctuary. He catches himself and looks around. There are two dark-haired, dark-clad figures just in front of him. He recognises his lover and his fiancé as anger sears away the tiredness and pain.
Yuuri. Is. Kissing. Murata.
"YOU LYING CHEATING PIECE OF GOALA DUNG!!" His shriek echoes and re-echoes off the walls, the acoustics of the sanctuary amplifying his voice to a banshee's wail.
Murata jerks back, eyes wide and glazed with shock but Yuuri....Yuuri still had a death grip on the Sage and smiles as he turns to meet Wolfram's furious gaze. The blond is glaring....right up to the second dark-violet eyes meet his.
It's not Yuuri. Not completely. He's seen his fiancé in the grip of what Gunter persists in calling the 'Maou-spirit' before but the young king has never looked like this. There is a kind of timeless wisdom all but blazing through the darkness. This is something - someone - much older, much, much more powerful that Yuuri looking out through his eyes.
His jaw falls and he stares, the stunned realization clogging his mind. What he is seeing is totally, completely and utterly impossible, but as those impossible eyes smile at him, he knows. Ignoring the protests of his abused body, he drops to one knee and bows his head. "Shinou Maou-heika."
The deep, warm laughter makes him shiver and the Shinou's voice is gentle as he turns his head to include Murata in his words. "Is it so hard to believe?"
Murata is paler than a ghost and his voice is shrill with hysteria. "But...you...you died! I saw it! I was there!!"
The Shinou rubs Murata's wrist soothingly and Wolfram, watching through his lashes, feels the knot of jealousy tighten at the warm tenderness in the gesture. "I swore, my love, that I would protect my people and guide my successors for as long as it took." Murata's head snaps up, eyes dark with realisation and the Shinou nods. "I have been here all along. Since the soul of this boy was sent to Earth to be reborn."
"So much time...and I never suspected...." Murata's voice is soft, almost despairing. "So I left you to carry this final burden alone."
Wolfram raises his head, the urge to comfort the dark, solitary Sage still strong but the Shinou forestalls him. "You did not - could not - know. And it has been....a comfort to see you well and happy."
Murata dips his head, tears glittering in the dim light as the Shinou releases him and turns to Wolfram. The blond, tongue-tied and boggle-eyed, can't think of a way to politely refuse being helped to his feet. The icy wash of healing Maryoku soothes his aches before they can flare up and he bobs his head in almost sullen thanks. He has to fight a flush at the familiar feel of the hand touching him. "...Yuuri?"
The Shinou smiles, affection exasperation threading through his voice and the other hand comes up to tap his temple. "Still in here. I cannot sustain the possession indefinitely but he was becoming irrational so I felt that it was better to intervene before he committed folly."
That sounds so much like the Yuuri he knows that Wolfram smiles. The Shinou walks up to inspect the boxes, towing Wolfram along by neglecting to release the hand he is holding. There is a faint crackle, the Shinou's power earthing itself in the complex spells woven into the box. A faint tingle makes its way through Wolfram's fingers to trickle down his spine and he shivers.
"It is magic." Murata's voice comes from less than two inches behind his ear and the blond jumps. "It's Midsummer Night."
The Shinou's laughter is deeper, warmer and Wolfram feels a heavy warmth start to collect in his stomach.. He ducks his head, flushing with dull heat as the Shinou - at last - releases him. The dark-haired figure turns to face them, the Shinou's ancient eyes somehow revealing a hint of Yuuri's boundless exuberance.
And just that easily, the atmosphere changes, contracting into a private, magical intimacy. Wolfram is watching in the moment when the Maou blinks and it is Yuuri who looks out, hands hungry and demanding as he pulls Wolfram close enough to kiss him fiercely. The blond shivers as proprietary fingers slide under his jacket and find his unbuttoned shirt.
The sound he makes is not quite a growl, but there is a note of primitive satisfaction in it and he pushes against Wolfram. Wolfram gasps and stumbles back. Something hits him mid-thigh and he topples backward to land on ...a box? He can feel the malevolence seething under the spell for an instant, then Yuuri is crushing him against the wood, impatient hands tearing away his clothes.
He is fumbling at Yuuri's buttons when a fingernail flicks against his nipple and he sees stars flash across his vision as he jumps. Yuuri strips him, taking merciless advantage of the fact that he wasn't in any condition to dress properly when he left the castle. The black-haired Maou dips his head to worry at the faded marks on Wolfram's chest and neck, bringing them back to vivid redness.
Wolfram savours the feel of Yuuri's skin, soft and smooth and with the only the faintest dusting of hair starting to prickle against his hands. Yuuri bites down and he scrabbles against the firm muscles of Yuuri's arm, as the world tilts and spins past dizzyingly. He is hard already, rubbing up against the rougher weave of Yuuri's trousers as he tries to get enough leverage to kiss the Maou properly.
Murata is suddenly there, setting one of the extinguished lamps beside Wolfram as Yuuri leans back and begins to impatiently pull off his own clothes. The Great Sage is naked from the waist up and even as Wolfram watches, he slides his glasses off and tucks them into his jacket pocket. He looks younger, more open without the lenses catching on wayward rays of light.
Then Yuuri is back, pressing Wolfram flat against the top of the box and groaning as the tingle of magic makes the blond shiver and tremble against him. Yuuri fumbles for the lamp, tossing aside the glass cover and spilling gold-black fluid over his fingers. Wolfram spreads his legs, allowing Yuuri to settle in between them. The Maou's kiss is fierce and clumsy, lips crushed against teeth and hot breath condensing against the corner of his mouth as he presses a slick finger into Wolfram.
The blond moans, clutching at Yuuri as the finger twists and pushes and- There! Right there!. He bucks up, making them both rock with the force of his reaction and he can feel the smile as his lips are pressed against bared teeth. Yuuri rocks forwards and they both groan as their erections slip and slide against each other.
Yuuri keeps him pinned, kissing and caressing him as he works in another finger, then another until Wolfram is boneless and frantic with need. The blond wails softly, hands pulling and tugging as he tries to pull Yuuri down onto him. The Maou guides his shaking legs up and around his waist before pushing slowly in.
Wolfram arches up, back curving in almost a perfect semi-circle as Yuuri pushes the last of the way in. It doesn't hurt, the slow burn is ...odd but not entirely uncomfortable. He flexes internal muscles around the heat and hardness and Yuuri yelps, head dropping to press against Wolfram's shoulder as he gasps for breath.
Yuuri rocks against him, pushing in a hair deeper and hitting that spot that sends electric sparks up Wolfram's spine. They both cry out and then Yuuri is moving in a slow, continuous rhythm. Wolfram's hands clutch at his shoulders and he knows that Yuuri will have marks there tomorrow but he doesn't care what happens as long as Yuuri keeps doing that
Yuuri has his hands on either side of Wolfram's head, his own head thrown back as he thrusts. Wolfram's eyes fly open when a cool, oil-slick hand closes around his erection and he can see....Murata's hand rubbing up and down and driving him closer and closer to the brink.
Yuuri's thrusts are harder, faster, now. The Maou is as close as Wolfram and the blond clenches internal muscles tight for just a second. And Yuuri is screaming his release as Murata's hand tightens around Wolfram and the blond swears, that just for a moment, there is another figure super-imposed over Yuuri's. Taller, blond and with an expression of unspeakable ecstasy and then he's flying apart in a shower of brilliant fireworks as Wolfram plunges into a riot of sensation.
Ken fastens his trousers, watching as Wolfram, still dreamy-eyed and uncoordinated, tries to dress himself. Shibuya, already fully dressed, brushes his fiancé's hands away and buttons him up. The Great Sage smiles lazily at the unlikely pair.
They will be all right, he thinks and he's glad of it.. Shibuya turns to look at him, one arm curling possessively around the blond's waist. Wolfram sighs and leans against the darker youth, eyes half-lidded and lips still swollen, "Oi, Murata! We're going to head back now. You coming?"
He shakes his head, knowing that the question was politeness, nothing more. Shibuya still has a possessive gleam in his eyes and their friendship is not yet totally salvaged. But they've saved it and that is the important thing. The Maou doesn't attempt to argue, guiding Wolfram gently towards the door. Murata watches them leave, knowing that this was only one night and finds that he doesn't regret it....or the un-likelihood of it happening again.
He falls back to lie sprawled across the red carpet, feeling the weave of power around the sanctuary curling around him in a spectral embrace.
Murata Ken, the Great Sage and Advisor to the Maou, curls into the unsubstantial arms of his lover and allows himself to sleep...
Fandom: KKM
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram/Murata/Shinou
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Well, if you're reading this LJ you may already have noticed my inability to let things lie. Sequel to 'Reclamation'.
Murata Ken, the Great Sage and (unfortunately) hormonal teenager, stumbles out of the Maou's rooms. His cheeks are scarlet with shame and frustrated lust. He had never been so humiliated in his life! Or any of the past ten for that matter! Shibuya - no the Maou - had been so cold, so calculating and so very, very angry. The sound of voices jars him out of his daze and Murata dodges down a back corridor, making his way towards the gates.
He is very, very close to hating Shibuya right now. How dare that-that boy get angry because Ken had seen that Wolfram was pining for some form of contact, some sign that he was wanted and valued? He has a whole kingdom to play with and his choice of anyone he wants from several others. Is it not enough that he's taken what little of Shinou's soul remains? Why does he have to take what little solace Ken's managed to find too?
He is almost in tears as he stumbles into the Shrine and the Maidens let him past without question. The doors to the sanctuary are too big and too heavy to slam, but he tries anyway. The sense of his old friend/lover/beloved washes over him and he pulls off his glasses to scrub fiercely at his eyes.
He will not cry.
Instead he paces up and down, circling the boxes as he fights back waves of tears and searing rage. His shoes aren't fastened right and the rhythm of his steps isn't even. Click-click, click, click-click, click. 'Round and 'round, until his breath is short and dizziness combines with the tight ugly lump of misery crushing his lungs against his empty stomach to spin a kaleidoscope of shapes and colours in front of his eyes. He stops only when he crashes into one of the boxes, and then he can curse and lash out and be angry. One tear over-flows, oozing down his cheek and he dashes it away.
The lamps flicker, half of them going out as the a cold breeze drifts across the room. Ken freezes. Slowly, reluctantly, he turns his head to look at the door. The sound of the doors closing sounds far too much like the hollow boom of a tomb being sealed. Shibuya is standing just inside the doors, the flickering flames giving him the illusion of movement. His head is bowed and narrow eyes gleam through the fringe of dark hair. Ken stares back and the sting of humiliation becomes rising sea of fury.
He starts at moderate volume, the words hissing through gritted teeth as he turns to face the Maou full on. There is a lot of bottled up resentment and, his eyes bright with the light of his burning bridges, Ken lets it all come pouring out in a vitriolic wave of aggression and bitterness. The Maou doesn't even lift his head and this passivity adds fuel to the fire. He's shouting now, hands fisted at his sides. A tiny part of him remember Jose teaching him not to shout, that screaming wasn't the answer and that he shouldn't ever fight.
He strides towards that impassive, shadowy figure and his words are pure poison now. He's had thousands of years to learn how to wield words as other men wielded swords or guns and he chooses them deliberately now. Chooses them to hurt and burn and burrow into Yuuri's thoughts. A momentary flash of shame is drowned by the memory of the evening's entertainment and his rage swells up again at the memory of Wolfram tied the bed, tears in his eyes.
"You've left him behind already?" He's close enough, now to see the ripple of light and shadows across the tightening muscles. Delighted to see that he is having some affect, he presses forward. "Do you even care what this game means to him? Are you really truly cruel enough to keep him hanging until he starts to doubt and goes elsewhere for proof that he's wanted -needed - and then pull him back to grovel at your feet? Is that what you're going to reduce his life to? An endless series of back and forth, never knowing, trusting that he's worth more to you than a pretty ornament?"
They're almost face to face but Shibuya's head is still bowed, the long fringe still hiding his expression and the part of Ken that's still bleeding and bitter and hurting makes him want to push until Shibuya rips and tears and claws back. He opens his mouth again and picks the most acidic barb he can. "Do you give a damn about him at ALL?!"
Shibuya shudders once and the tension in his shoulders just ....dissolves. The gleam of his eyes flickers as he blinks and the light is just strong enough to gild the curl of his lower lip as he smirks.
"YOU BASTARD!" The dim light turns red as Ken takes a wild swing at the Maou. There is one of those awful, slow-motion moments. He has the incongruous thought that it is treason to raise one's hand to the Maou. Then the shock of impact. He stares, eyes painfully wide, at the hand clamped around his wrist.
Then Shibuya lifts his head and Ken is staring into cat-slit pupils as Shibuya's lips curl into a smile that he hasn't seen outside of his memories for thousands of years. He gasps, lips parting and the Maou swoops in to claim his lips in a fierce kiss.
Wolfram swears as he stumbles along the Shrine's main corridor, lurching from wall to wall like a drunken, land bound sailor. Every misstep and stumble makes the dull ache around his lower back flare into a stab of hot pain and he's sweaty with the effort of staying upright.
"Damned...wimp." He grits through clenched teeth. The ride to answer the almost hysterical appeal from the Shrine Maidens had been the stuff of nightmares. His horse had bounced a lot more than Wolfram thought it should have. He'd arrived at the front of the Shrine, glassy-eyed and hands cramped from the death-grip on the pommel of the saddle. He hadn't been able to dismount, finally resorting to an awkward half-slide, half-fall type of manoeuvre that he would never, ever live down if anyone other than the (cloistered) Maidens saw it.
Instead of respecting his wishes and leaving him to die in peace, the Maidens had pounced on him and all but dragged him bodily to the Shrine. He hadn't been able to get much more than the fact that Murata-Geika and Yuuri-heika were inside and that the Maidens were all very, very worried about this. The only other thing he was sure of was that all of them seemed to be expecting him to fix everything.
The great double doors of the Inner Sanctuary looms out of the shadows just in front of him and Wolfram sends a silent prayer of gratitude to the Shinou. He limps over to fumble with the door handles. The doors swung open, almost sending him face first into the sanctuary. He catches himself and looks around. There are two dark-haired, dark-clad figures just in front of him. He recognises his lover and his fiancé as anger sears away the tiredness and pain.
Yuuri. Is. Kissing. Murata.
"YOU LYING CHEATING PIECE OF GOALA DUNG!!" His shriek echoes and re-echoes off the walls, the acoustics of the sanctuary amplifying his voice to a banshee's wail.
Murata jerks back, eyes wide and glazed with shock but Yuuri....Yuuri still had a death grip on the Sage and smiles as he turns to meet Wolfram's furious gaze. The blond is glaring....right up to the second dark-violet eyes meet his.
It's not Yuuri. Not completely. He's seen his fiancé in the grip of what Gunter persists in calling the 'Maou-spirit' before but the young king has never looked like this. There is a kind of timeless wisdom all but blazing through the darkness. This is something - someone - much older, much, much more powerful that Yuuri looking out through his eyes.
His jaw falls and he stares, the stunned realization clogging his mind. What he is seeing is totally, completely and utterly impossible, but as those impossible eyes smile at him, he knows. Ignoring the protests of his abused body, he drops to one knee and bows his head. "Shinou Maou-heika."
The deep, warm laughter makes him shiver and the Shinou's voice is gentle as he turns his head to include Murata in his words. "Is it so hard to believe?"
Murata is paler than a ghost and his voice is shrill with hysteria. "But...you...you died! I saw it! I was there!!"
The Shinou rubs Murata's wrist soothingly and Wolfram, watching through his lashes, feels the knot of jealousy tighten at the warm tenderness in the gesture. "I swore, my love, that I would protect my people and guide my successors for as long as it took." Murata's head snaps up, eyes dark with realisation and the Shinou nods. "I have been here all along. Since the soul of this boy was sent to Earth to be reborn."
"So much time...and I never suspected...." Murata's voice is soft, almost despairing. "So I left you to carry this final burden alone."
Wolfram raises his head, the urge to comfort the dark, solitary Sage still strong but the Shinou forestalls him. "You did not - could not - know. And it has been....a comfort to see you well and happy."
Murata dips his head, tears glittering in the dim light as the Shinou releases him and turns to Wolfram. The blond, tongue-tied and boggle-eyed, can't think of a way to politely refuse being helped to his feet. The icy wash of healing Maryoku soothes his aches before they can flare up and he bobs his head in almost sullen thanks. He has to fight a flush at the familiar feel of the hand touching him. "...Yuuri?"
The Shinou smiles, affection exasperation threading through his voice and the other hand comes up to tap his temple. "Still in here. I cannot sustain the possession indefinitely but he was becoming irrational so I felt that it was better to intervene before he committed folly."
That sounds so much like the Yuuri he knows that Wolfram smiles. The Shinou walks up to inspect the boxes, towing Wolfram along by neglecting to release the hand he is holding. There is a faint crackle, the Shinou's power earthing itself in the complex spells woven into the box. A faint tingle makes its way through Wolfram's fingers to trickle down his spine and he shivers.
"It is magic." Murata's voice comes from less than two inches behind his ear and the blond jumps. "It's Midsummer Night."
The Shinou's laughter is deeper, warmer and Wolfram feels a heavy warmth start to collect in his stomach.. He ducks his head, flushing with dull heat as the Shinou - at last - releases him. The dark-haired figure turns to face them, the Shinou's ancient eyes somehow revealing a hint of Yuuri's boundless exuberance.
And just that easily, the atmosphere changes, contracting into a private, magical intimacy. Wolfram is watching in the moment when the Maou blinks and it is Yuuri who looks out, hands hungry and demanding as he pulls Wolfram close enough to kiss him fiercely. The blond shivers as proprietary fingers slide under his jacket and find his unbuttoned shirt.
The sound he makes is not quite a growl, but there is a note of primitive satisfaction in it and he pushes against Wolfram. Wolfram gasps and stumbles back. Something hits him mid-thigh and he topples backward to land on ...a box? He can feel the malevolence seething under the spell for an instant, then Yuuri is crushing him against the wood, impatient hands tearing away his clothes.
He is fumbling at Yuuri's buttons when a fingernail flicks against his nipple and he sees stars flash across his vision as he jumps. Yuuri strips him, taking merciless advantage of the fact that he wasn't in any condition to dress properly when he left the castle. The black-haired Maou dips his head to worry at the faded marks on Wolfram's chest and neck, bringing them back to vivid redness.
Wolfram savours the feel of Yuuri's skin, soft and smooth and with the only the faintest dusting of hair starting to prickle against his hands. Yuuri bites down and he scrabbles against the firm muscles of Yuuri's arm, as the world tilts and spins past dizzyingly. He is hard already, rubbing up against the rougher weave of Yuuri's trousers as he tries to get enough leverage to kiss the Maou properly.
Murata is suddenly there, setting one of the extinguished lamps beside Wolfram as Yuuri leans back and begins to impatiently pull off his own clothes. The Great Sage is naked from the waist up and even as Wolfram watches, he slides his glasses off and tucks them into his jacket pocket. He looks younger, more open without the lenses catching on wayward rays of light.
Then Yuuri is back, pressing Wolfram flat against the top of the box and groaning as the tingle of magic makes the blond shiver and tremble against him. Yuuri fumbles for the lamp, tossing aside the glass cover and spilling gold-black fluid over his fingers. Wolfram spreads his legs, allowing Yuuri to settle in between them. The Maou's kiss is fierce and clumsy, lips crushed against teeth and hot breath condensing against the corner of his mouth as he presses a slick finger into Wolfram.
The blond moans, clutching at Yuuri as the finger twists and pushes and- There! Right there!. He bucks up, making them both rock with the force of his reaction and he can feel the smile as his lips are pressed against bared teeth. Yuuri rocks forwards and they both groan as their erections slip and slide against each other.
Yuuri keeps him pinned, kissing and caressing him as he works in another finger, then another until Wolfram is boneless and frantic with need. The blond wails softly, hands pulling and tugging as he tries to pull Yuuri down onto him. The Maou guides his shaking legs up and around his waist before pushing slowly in.
Wolfram arches up, back curving in almost a perfect semi-circle as Yuuri pushes the last of the way in. It doesn't hurt, the slow burn is ...odd but not entirely uncomfortable. He flexes internal muscles around the heat and hardness and Yuuri yelps, head dropping to press against Wolfram's shoulder as he gasps for breath.
Yuuri rocks against him, pushing in a hair deeper and hitting that spot that sends electric sparks up Wolfram's spine. They both cry out and then Yuuri is moving in a slow, continuous rhythm. Wolfram's hands clutch at his shoulders and he knows that Yuuri will have marks there tomorrow but he doesn't care what happens as long as Yuuri keeps doing that
Yuuri has his hands on either side of Wolfram's head, his own head thrown back as he thrusts. Wolfram's eyes fly open when a cool, oil-slick hand closes around his erection and he can see....Murata's hand rubbing up and down and driving him closer and closer to the brink.
Yuuri's thrusts are harder, faster, now. The Maou is as close as Wolfram and the blond clenches internal muscles tight for just a second. And Yuuri is screaming his release as Murata's hand tightens around Wolfram and the blond swears, that just for a moment, there is another figure super-imposed over Yuuri's. Taller, blond and with an expression of unspeakable ecstasy and then he's flying apart in a shower of brilliant fireworks as Wolfram plunges into a riot of sensation.
Ken fastens his trousers, watching as Wolfram, still dreamy-eyed and uncoordinated, tries to dress himself. Shibuya, already fully dressed, brushes his fiancé's hands away and buttons him up. The Great Sage smiles lazily at the unlikely pair.
They will be all right, he thinks and he's glad of it.. Shibuya turns to look at him, one arm curling possessively around the blond's waist. Wolfram sighs and leans against the darker youth, eyes half-lidded and lips still swollen, "Oi, Murata! We're going to head back now. You coming?"
He shakes his head, knowing that the question was politeness, nothing more. Shibuya still has a possessive gleam in his eyes and their friendship is not yet totally salvaged. But they've saved it and that is the important thing. The Maou doesn't attempt to argue, guiding Wolfram gently towards the door. Murata watches them leave, knowing that this was only one night and finds that he doesn't regret it....or the un-likelihood of it happening again.
He falls back to lie sprawled across the red carpet, feeling the weave of power around the sanctuary curling around him in a spectral embrace.
Murata Ken, the Great Sage and Advisor to the Maou, curls into the unsubstantial arms of his lover and allows himself to sleep...