It Blossomed Late in Spring, KKM, Yuuri/Wolfram

[elsie21]

Title: It Blossomed Late in Spring
Author: elsie21
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters/pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram
Rating: NC17
Genre: Drama, Romance
Final word count: 10,540
Warnings: mild angst, lemonish content
Notes: Written for the contest on kkm_wolframfans, takes place post series.



Wolfram stood outside Yuuri's door, eyes closed and arms crossed. It was ridiculous the amount of time he was spending. He looked fine the way he was and how long did it take to get dressed, anyway? His brows furrowed as he heard the approaching footsteps. Of course Konrad would have to check in on Yuuri, too, as if Günter's fussing over him wasn't enough to get the king ready.

"Wolfram, you know it's bad luck to see each other before the ceremony."

Wolfram didn't bother looking at Konrad. "You've been listening to him again. It's a silly superstition and there's no reason for him to hide in there all morning."

Konrad smiled at his younger brother. He'd grown over the past few years, not just taller but he'd matured, demonstrated that he could rein in his impulsive nature when the situation required. The problem with that was that if the situation involved His Majesty, which it usually did, Wolfram was still just as prone to acting first and thinking second. He brushed at the snowy white cravat at Wolfram's neck.

"What?" Wolfram opened his eyes and looked down, his eyes crossing as he tried to see if Konrad had disrupted his appearance.

"Oh, it's nothing," Konrad said calmly. "I just thought there was a smudge..."

He didn't have to finish, because Wolfram's eyes grew wide before he lifted his chin and sniffed. "If there is, it's because you put it there, Weller." He touched the scarf at his neck and looked over his shoulder at the door. "I expect Yuuri to be there on time," he sniffed again before he walked away.

Konrad knew that once Wolfram had turned the corner he'd be going right back to Gwendal's room to change his cravat. He'd been forced to spend the night there and it had taken guards at the door and a threat to tie him down to keep him from sneaking back out. Konrad couldn't help feeling a little guilty. Wolfram had been a ball of nerves. Gwendal had said he'd kept him awake all night, not that Konrad thought Gwendal would dare take a chance on sleeping and letting Wolfram slip out. For Wolfram to wake up at every little sound said a great deal about his state of mind and he'd probably been waiting outside the bedroom door just to make sure Yuuri hadn't fled from the castle during the night.

On the other side of the door, Yuuri was running around a chair trying to get away from Günter. "Absolutely not!"

He'd had it with wearing his school uniform. For once, just one occasion, he wanted something different. Although he supposed he was marrying a guy; he didn't get much different than that.

Yuuri could understand why people eloped, and he wondered why he hadn't dared do it himself. It had only been a week but the preparations were killing him. First there had been the studying. He'd ended up in this predicament in the first place because he hadn't known the customs; he wasn't about to commit an even worse faux pas in front of witnesses from all over the world. Not to mention that Wolfram was sure to be wearing his sword and he'd rather not have Yuuri Shish Kabob as one of the main attractions at the wedding feast.

There had been the maids constantly underfoot, scribbling frantically as they walked by and whispering to each other. There had been the measurements, and Günter's excitement over new fabrics, and lately Anissina had been making him nervous with the way she'd rub her chin thoughtfully whenever he was in the same room with her.

Of course Greta had been excited and Yuuri had been more than happy to let her help Günter with picking out her own clothes for the occasion.

And there had been the dancing lessons.

Yuuri had almost looked forward to those. No books, no fabrics, no fussing. He'd insisted that if he had to have dance lessons, he would do it without an audience, thank you very much. He didn't want to be interrupted to pick out any more fabrics; he didn't want anyone quizzing him on what he'd studied. As soon as Günter had wavered, Yuuri had forged ahead, insisting that he needed the time to work with his partner and memorize the steps.

He didn't know why he hadn't seen it coming.

He was informed the first day of dance lessons that they were to be held in the ballroom. He'd tried protesting that it was too large, but that argument had been ignored, and in fact he was reminded that he was going to be dancing in that very room in a week and wouldn't it make sense for him to become used to the floor in there? He'd given up and just elicited a promise that no one, and he meant no one, would be there to watch him embarrass himself horribly except Yuuri and his dance teacher.

Wolfram had been standing in the middle of the floor, arms crossed and looking disgruntled. Yuuri still hadn't figured it out then; he'd assumed that Wolfram was going to try to weasel out of his promise or attempt to convince Yuuri to let him supervise so that he could be sure there was nothing inappropriate going on behind his back.

He should have been so lucky.

Of course he should have known, but that didn't mean Wolfram had to ask him if he'd really thought that anyone would be dancing with Yuuri besides him, closeted in a room together - as if the ballroom was that small - and the most Yuuri remembered of that first day was how he'd found himself longing for the chance to get out of dance class early even if it meant having Günter pin more swatches on him.

The dance lessons had started out painfully in more ways than one, even if he was the one who kept stepping on his partner's feet. They'd started out with Wolfram barking out commands and counting every step he took, sometimes kicking Yuuri in the shin or the ankle to make his feet move.

He was used to Wolfram's insults, but those lessons were more frightening than any of the sword training sessions he'd endured with his fiancé.

Finally Wolfram had stopped abruptly and marched over to a table against the wall where a cloth-covered bundle lay. He whipped off the blanket and revealed what Yuuri soon found out was Anissina's Many-Musicians-in-a-Box-Kun. A few turns of a crank on the side and Wolfram was back at Yuuri's side.

"You're hopeless. I'm going to lead," he announced, taking one of Yuuri's hands in his, and Yuuri took one look at the determined set of Wolfram's jaw and put a hand tentatively on Wolfram's shoulder.

It had been awkward trying to reverse the few steps Wolfram had managed to teach him over the past week, and he could feel the tenseness in Wolfram's frame beneath his fingers. He was already cringing as he waited for Wolfram to kick him in the shin again.

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri looked up from where he'd been paying careful attention to their feet, making sure that he wasn't going to trod upon Wolfram's boots or go left when he was supposed to go right. Wolfram's eyebrows were twitching and Yuuri tugged at his hand but Wolfram had no plans on letting him go just yet.

"Stop watching your feet. When we're dancing you should be looking at me." If unspoken, Yuuri could still hear the and no one else, wimp. "It makes you look clumsy and uncoordinated when you keep staring at the ground and no one wants to see their king bowing his head like a peasant."

Yuuri had no argument for that; this was one of the few times when he had to admit Wolfram was right. It didn't mean he had to like it, though, and he'd barely lifted his head to glare right back at Wolfram when the hand at his hip grabbed a handful of Yuuri's jacket.

"When I move," Wolfram's grip tightened and he drew Yuuri closer. "You move."

Yuuri swallowed nervously. Wolfram had the same look in his eyes that Anissina got when on a hunt for Gwendal, and he'd completely forgotten that there was music still playing when Wolfram began to move again.

The room was enormous, but Yuuri felt claustrophobic. Every time Wolfram took a step, his thigh touched Yuuri's. If they needed to move to one side, Wolfram's fist would clench harder. Whenever Yuuri took a misstep, he collided with Wolfram, but instead of Wolfram yelling at him, his eyes would close and his brows would draw together before he'd simply pick up the dance where they'd left off.

But Yuuri couldn't forget that he could feel Wolfram's heart racing, and invariably the next step he'd take would be right on Wolfram's toes.

"Clumsy wimp."

Yuuri ground his teeth together and pretended he hadn't noticed that Wolfram's hand had released his jacket and slipped underneath. He ignored the fact that the only thing between Wolfram's warm hand and his ribcage was a shirt that was already clinging to skin damp with sweat.

And much to his shame, he yelled out a frustrated "don't ask!" when Günter asked him at supper that evening how his lessons had been going.

His short temper of late was probably one of the reasons Günter had peeked out the door and asked for reinforcements. Yuuri could have handled Gwendal. He definitely could have handled Konrad. He probably could even have handled Greta.

It really wasn't fair of them to send Lady Celi in.

She was a vision, but Yuuri had expected nothing less. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and to his credit at least he tried not to stare. It wasn't his fault that he'd never seen formal dress look so decadently informal. There had to be some sort of maryuko at work keeping the front of Celi's gown...in front of her.

"I suppose this means I've lost my chance with you," she pouted. She picked up one jacket from the bed, held it up with both hands, and tossed it aside. She chose another and held it up to Yuuri's chest. "This one."

She could have handed him a sandwich board that said "I Brake for Bearbees" and he'd have agreed. With her looks, figure, and siren-like voice, Lady Celi had a certain knack for getting her way more often than not.

"I love weddings," she sighed dramatically as she rummaged through the pile of shirts on the bed, every single one of them white. After handing him one that looked, as far as Yuuri could tell, identical to the one he was already wearing, she took a seat and laced her fingers under her chin. It was clear she had every intention of watching him remove his shirt, and although he'd been just as much in a state of undress during his duel with Wolfram, this was different.

He was extremely grateful that she pretended not to notice his fingers seemed to have grown three times their size as he attempted to unfasten his buttons. When one of them flew across the room, darting between Celi's luminous curls, he wondered if he might be able to mentally summon one of the kohi to come kidnap him. When she got to her feet again, he tore the shirt off and dropped it to the floor. The last thing he needed was for her to help him get dressed.

She smiled at him and cupped his cheek briefly before heading for the window, and with her gaze no longer on him he regained use of his fingers and donned the new shirt, buttoning it as quickly as he could before she turned around.

"I used to watch my sons play down there, near the flowerbed."

Yuuri looked up, surprised at the wistful tone in her voice.

"Secret Gwendal is blooming," she said. "Even the most reluctant of them all has decided to appear in honor of the occasion."

"Well, I'm sure that..." of what, he had no idea. He forgot that he was getting ready for his own wedding, forgot that he'd been afraid of getting molested, and joined her at the window. She was right; even from here it was obvious that the blossoms were flourishing, but then his botanical expertise ended at "green, good; brown, bad", and the gardeners here were very good at making sure the landscaping was very green indeed.

"You've done a good thing," Celi said, and her voice was tinged with sadness. "When you're in love, it's with the person, not his heritage." She turned toward him, but she had a faraway look in her eyes that told Yuuri she was thinking of someone else. Konrad's father, perhaps, her human husband?

"A very good thing," she murmured again, turning her gaze back out the window. Her reflection gazed back at her, even in the bright light of day, and when Yuuri realized he was staring, he quickly looked away.

Other than the guards on patrol, there was little activity outside. One of the groundskeepers was carefully tending to the flowers; a couple that Yuuri thought might have been from Cabalcade strode past him on their way to the temple, and just when it seemed there was no one left who wasn't either in the castle or the temple, he saw Eru crawling toward the flowers.

To his relief, Nicola and Hube were right behind.

The gardener looked up, and beneath the brim of his hat Yuuri could see the broad smile as he snipped a tiny bud and handed it to Eru. Nicola scooped up the child and handed her to Hube before bending down and kissing the gardener quickly on the cheek. Yuuri could imagine the happy gurgle coming from Eru as the family headed in the same direction everyone else had gone in.

Yuuri watched Hube, took in the set of his shoulders and his posture, and was struck, not for the first time, with how much he resembled Gwendal. It was more than just his appearance; it was how he carried himself, proudly and erect, daring anyone to threaten that which he held dear.

It was in the way he smiled when he looked at his daughter.

Lady Celi was cooing at him again and began unbuttoning his entire shirt, alarming him until he realized it was because he had missed a button. He fumbled with them again and made sure to align the buttons and their holes before she could offer further assistance. "Pre-wedding jitters," she winked at him. "Don't worry, Your Majesty, he'll still be there waiting for you."

Which, Yuuri didn't dare tell her, was sort of what he was afraid of.

Wolfram tore at his cravat in frustration. This made six times now he'd tied and retied it, and it was all Weller's fault. It was easy for Konrad to smile and act like today was no different than any other day. He'd always had Yuuri's devotion, Yuuri's admiration, and Yuuri's undying faith. Anything Yuuri wanted, Weller was at his side with a "yes" on his smiling lips and a promise to protect him.

Wolfram's fist clenched, wrinkling yet another scarf. It was his job to protect Yuuri, not Weller's. He was Yuuri's fiancé, and it was up to him to tell Yuuri when he was about to do something stupid.

If anyone would give his life to save Yuuri's, it should be him.

He couldn't look in the mirror anymore and he picked up Cravat Number Seven, draping it around his neck and scowling at the door as it opened.

His frown deepened as he realized it was Gwendal. Who was left then, with Yuuri? Günter, who had every opportunity to molest his fiancé? Weller, who was probably talking in soothing tones, reassuring Yuuri that it wasn't a mistake to get married?

Wolfram didn't want Yuuri because Weller had talked him into it. The thought that it could be happening right now almost made him more upset than the thought of Yuuri calling it off. Almost.

"Right over left," Gwendal told him. Wolfram looked down at his hands and realized his brother was right. He was tempted to pull the wretched thing off and toss it to the floor, but he gritted his teeth and began again.

"You're getting a wrinkle between your brows."

"If I wanted to hear about bad omens, I'd invite Günter in here," Wolfram snapped, picking up his stone brooch and pinning it carefully in the center of his scarf. It would be far more preferable than Günter having carte blanche to paw at Yuuri while he was half-naked.

Wolfram sucked in a breath between his teeth and pretended he'd not just pictured that scenario.

Gwendal was standing with his arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed by what the day entailed. Wolfram's bangs were already clinging to his forehead and he fluffed them with his fingers. He didn't care if this was Gwendal's room; if he wanted chambers to himself then they should have let him stay in his own room, the one he shared with Yuuri.

Wolfram smoothed the vest over his stomach and tried to ignore the curdling feeling. He hadn't seen Yuuri since yesterday morning.

So help him, it felt like a lot longer.

The night it happened, Yuuri had blamed it on being overtired. Gwendal had kept him buried in paperwork, Günter with books, and it had gotten so bad since he'd returned to Shin Makoku that even the new baseball field and playing catch with Konrad were tiring.

It was worth it, though. He loved seeing the sport attract a following here. He couldn't get over the thrill of owning his own baseball team and getting others as caught up in the excitement as he was. He felt a rush of pride when he watched a group of children on the field, practicing the pitches he'd taught them and had laughed as he realized one had caught on to the idea of stealing bases.

It had given him a weird little twist in his heart to see something from home here in Shin Makoku, his second home.

He'd frowned at that. It made it sound like his country was less important, a last resort, and he was their king. It wasn't that he didn't take his responsibilities seriously - not when it counted the most, not where people and lives and peace were involved - it was just that, well, he'd never even known of its existence until recently. A ball was hit out of the field and Yuuri had reached up to catch it, anticipating the sting in his palm but still appreciating because of where he was.

Shin Makoku, a place that seemed more and more like home with every day he was there.

He'd thrown the ball back and hadn't been able to stop grinning as he'd watched one of the children run backwards, arm stretched overhead, to catch it neatly in a crudely stitched leather glove.

Combined with the exhaustion from earlier in the day, it helped explain the dream.

One of the things that surprised Yuuri the most was that, for someone who was prone to jealousy over the most trivial of meetings, Wolfram had never expressed the slightest desire to play baseball. He didn't even stop by to supervise Yuuri when he was there, something that puzzled him as much despite the sense of relief he felt.

The baseball field was his escape; the only one who ever joined him there was Konrad, and Konrad was someone who knew about baseball. He'd seen the Boston Red Sox; he knew the rules of the game, how runs were scored, what each position was responsible for. If not for Konrad there would be no baseball field or home teams.

So why, when he dreamt of baseball, wasn't it Konrad who appeared on the field with him?

He could see the runner approaching home plate, and his eyes were fixed on the ball, his glove out to catch it. This time he would tag him out, and he'd be the hero, not the one who allowed the winning run to be scored. His grip tightened on the ball as the runner began to slide and he reached out to touch him.

That was all he had to do, touch the runner before his foot reached the plate. He was in a low crouch, waiting, and as he extended his arm, everything moved in slow motion.

He saw his hand as it moved, in stop-motion, toward the runner's leg. He saw the ball touch the stained uniform, and he felt himself lean just a little too far forward.

It took him forever to fall.

The game was forgotten when Yuuri found himself in a sweaty tangle of limbs, his hand dangerously near balls of a different sort altogether and his nose pressing against the buttons of the uniform. His mask was gone and he couldn't remember why, but he felt the soft touch of fingers in his hair and lifted his face to stare into surprised green eyes.

When he'd woken up and realized his fingers were brushing against the sleeve of Wolfram's nightgown, he snatched his hand away, huddled on the edge of the bed, and silently cursed Wolfram for the next two hours as he tried to fall back asleep.

The next morning he'd found himself hanging off the bed, every muscle in his body cramped and aching, and he'd decided he didn't care how much Günter cried or Gwendal frowned. The moment Wolfram was dressed and out on patrol, Yuuri had planned on pulling the covers over his head and sleeping in the center of his bed.

There should be at least some perks to being the king, after all.

That determination had vanished the moment he rolled over, buried his face in the pillow, and realized that it smelled like Wolfram. He'd scrubbed himself extra hard in the bath afterwards, trying to wash away not only the dream, but the realization that he could recognize Wolfram's scent.

Yuuri wrinkled his nose in disgust. The bed linens had smelled like sweat. He'd have to make sure the maids changed them right away and would just tell them that he preferred a different color or something.

Yuuri's fingers, the pads already resembling dried fruit from being in the bath so long, had spent far more time than necessary washing one part of his anatomy that morning.

Wolfram caught himself fiddling with his brooch and forced his hands into fists. How could Gwendal be so calm? They'd have to complain to the kitchen staff; there was obviously something wrong with the dinner they'd been served the night before, because not even long boat rides made him this sick.

That no one else seemed negatively affected didn't even enter his mind.

He closed his eyes, unable to look at his reflection anymore. What if Yuuri had changed his mind? Wolfram's fingers came up to touch his left cheek. They'd been engaged for so long...what had it been that day that made Yuuri accept what Wolfram had known all along?

He wished he couldn't remember the details so vividly. It had been a rare morning that he'd managed to have Yuuri all to himself, and since Weller only seemed interested in the ridiculous game of Yuuri's, someone had to make sure the wimp was worthy of the Maken.

It was Wolfram's job to protect his fiancé, but that didn't mean he didn't want their Maou to be capable of defending himself if necessary.

It frustrated Wolfram that someone who could be so determined to improve when it came to hitting balls with sticks and running around a big circle could be so cavalier in learning skills he might need to survive. It wasn't enough that Yuuri could summon the Maou to save others; he needed to be able to save himself against those who weren't so willing to talk first, act later. Why couldn't Yuuri understand that this was for his own good?

He was an idealistic fool, but Wolfram would teach him to be a better swordsman, even if it killed him. At the rate they were going this morning, Wolfram could all too well imagine that happening. "Focus, you wimp!" he railed. "Stop pretending this is a game!"

Yuuri lowered Morgif. "It helps me," he shrugged carelessly. "I can't help if your approach is predictable, just like a pitcher who only knows how to throw curve balls. If it's helping me block your thrusts, isn't that all that matters?"

Wolfram lifted his sword and pointed the tip at Yuuri's exposed neck. "I could kill you right now," he said, his voice quaking with rage.

Yuuri swallowed, and Wolfram could see his throat bob despite the fact that he was keeping his gaze fixed on Yuuri's face. "But you won't," he said in a tone that was far too casual.

Wolfram lowered his own sword. "Pick up your sword," he said coldly, enunciating each syllable carefully. "If I must spill your blood for you to to take this seriously, I will."

Whether Yuuri believed him or not, Wolfram didn't really care; the important thing was that Yuuri raised Morgif again and held on tightly with both hands. Wolfram sighed in exasperation and moved behind him. "With one hand, Yuuri," he said, pulling on one of Yuuri's arms and getting him to drop it. His nose brushed against Yuuri's hair, damp with sweat, and he found himself starting to pull back but caught himself in time. He cleared his throat and reached forward almost (but not quite) tentatively to cover Yuuri's sword hand with his own.

He forgot what he was going to say, but fortunately Yuuri remained silent until Wolfram moved back to his previous position.

He lifted his sword and the only warning he gave Yuuri was a wicked grin.

Yuuri had been tiring, so despite Wolfram's words, he was going easy on him. Not too easy, not the way Weller would; someone had to push Yuuri to do better and that wasn't going to happen if he'd won the sword fight before it began.

He wasn't sure what it was he'd said that made the difference. He wasn't using any insults he hadn't in the past, and now that he'd met his future mother-in-law there was no way he'd ever speak a harsh word against her. He'd called Yuuri a wimp countless times, because it was true, and it wasn't Wolfram's fault if Yuuri didn't like his swordsmanship being compared to a girl's.

The only one Wolfram would worry about taking offense to that comment was Lady Anissina, and last he knew she was in hot pursuit of Günter and Gwendal.

Wolfram could only blame himself. He'd been growing almost bored with Yuuri's feeble attempts, and instead of watching his blade had let his gaze wander to Yuuri's face. He was cute when he got angry, and Wolfram couldn't help remembering the time Yuuri had confessed that he'd thought Wolfram was far cuter than he was.

He'd allowed himself that moment of distraction, and he'd given Yuuri the advantage. Even as he cursed himself for letting Yuuri get the upper hand, he felt a twinge of pride that his fiancé was at least willing to use the advantage given to him.

Wolfram had nearly expected to see a glow around Yuuri, because he was fighting as if he hadn't been tiring at all, and it was only because he knew Yuuri that he was certain the earlier exhaustion had been real and not a ploy to get Wolfram to become complacent. He found himself retreating, impressed with Yuuri's shift from defensive to offensive tactics, and although he could have easily disarmed his fiance, Wolfram couldn't deny that there was something exciting about watching Yuuri when he was so passionate.

His back hit the tree and their swords had clashed one last time. Yuuri's lips were curled back in a near snarl and Wolfram could feel the tension in his arms as it traveled along Morgif's blade. The air around them felt so thick Wolfram was sure that they could cut through it, and he'd felt his own arms shake with the effort of keeping Yuuri from forcing his own sword any closer.

Over the criss-crossed blades Wolfram could see Yuuri's nostrils flare. He could feel Yuuri's breath on his face, and it felt hot and humid. Yuuri wasn't exerting as much energy as he had before and Wolfram's arms relaxed slightly.

He didn't know how long they'd stood there staring at each other, but Yuuri's words broke the spell that they'd been under, or maybe the words were the result of this strange magic.

Yuuri licked his lips and added one more word.

"Tomorrow."

"You want to elope?"

At that moment, Wolfram would swear that Yuuri thought it had been a very good idea.

In Gwendal's room, Wolfram opened his eyes again, replacing the image of Yuuri's face that day with his own reflection in the mirror. Maybe there had been some sort of magic at work that day, and now it had worn off and Yuuri was having second thoughts.

If Yuuri really had wanted to elope, maybe Wolfram should have gone along with it.

In the mirror, he could see Gwendal walk up behind him, and he turned to see Gwendal's fist right near his face. "Here," his brother said gruffly.

Wolfram opened up his hand and held his palm up, accepting the small gift that was placed in it. The knitted animal was blue, but a much paler shade than that of the stone in his brooch. He brought it close to his face. It appeared to be a cat, but it had wings.

Pochi a voice in his head said, even as a second one immediately piped up Liesel!

"For luck," Gwendal said before turning on his heel and walking back toward the door.

Wolfram's fingers closed over the gift and despite the fact that he still felt he was going to lose everything he'd eaten for breakfast, his lips twitched into a smile. "Thanks, Brother," he said quietly. Gwendal said nothing, and then Wolfram heard the door open and shut.

When it opened again, he turned toward the door, the smile still teasing at his lips, and swallowed.

"Mother."

The entire time he and Wolfram had been engaged, Yuuri had always pictured there being a day, always hoping that it would be sooner rather than later, when Wolfram would get over this idea that he couldn't break it off. He'd longed for the day when Wolfram would stop following him, stop berating him for imagined infidelities, and would move on so that Yuuri could find a nice girl to settle down with when he was ready.

That had been when the only thing binding them had been a slap across the cheek, one that he'd been provoked into delivering. Hadn't Gwendal and Lady Celi been talking about that perfume in the bath, and how it enhanced one's passions? Gwendal had pointed out that if anyone felt hostile toward someone else that they'd be filled with hatred, hadn't he?

The thing was that he didn't hate Wolfram, not even when he'd been blinded by rage at Wolfram's insults, and in the whole not-hating part he knew at least that was mutual. Which of them was supposed to have been affected by the scent of orchids, anyway? Weren't those the flowers they used in funerals? And why were all the questions in his head about everything but the most important one of all?

He swallowed as Günter fussed with the kerchief in his pocket. He'd not even had a chance to take a bath that particular morning because Wolfram had dragged him out of bed uncharacteristically early, and he'd been nowhere near any smoke or strange fumes. What, then, had possessed him to act so rashly that day?

It's not too late, he told himself. There was still time, and surely Wolfram would understand that he'd not really meant it, that he'd been delirious from the heat and exertion.

He closed his eyes as Günter whipped out a lace-trimmed bit of silk and tucked it into his breast pocket. Then how could he explain what had happened after his no-question-about-it proposal?

He wasn't sure what had happened that day. He'd looked at Wolfram, his hair clinging to his forehead and his face flushed, had noticed Wolfram's reflection in the sword, and something had stirred in him. It felt like he'd swallowed a bearbee that had burst into flames, and for several heartbeats his entire universe existed of nothing but Wolfram's lips.

Yuuri had a moment of understanding for Wolfram's actions, because for one blinding moment, he could feel it welling up inside him, and a single word, frightening in its intensity, flashed through his mind just before he blurted out the last thing he'd ever have imagined saying to Wolfram.

He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. "Günter," he said, his voice sounding strangled. "I have to see Wolfram."

"You will, Your Majesty," Günter soothed as he chose yet another color.

"No," Yuuri said, his tone firm despite a sudden loss of equilibrium. "I have to see him now."

Günter removed the handkerchief and stepped back. He was silent, and even without the existence of a single clock in Shin Makoku, Yuuri could hear each second as it ticked by.

"Very well," his advisor acquiesced. "I shall send someone to fetch him."

"No." Yuuri shook his head. "Tell me where he is and I'll go there myself.

Günter didn't like the idea of His Majesty wandering the halls, being seen by others on this most auspicious occasion before he was ready, and risking the undoing of everything they'd spent the morning arranging. However, if this was His Majesty's wish, he had no doubt that it was for a very good and noble reason. With a regretful, longing look at the cape that still had to be fitted over the Maou's shoulders, Günter sighed. "Very well, Your Majesty."

He'd gotten as far as "Gwen-" before Yuuri disappeared out the door. When Konrad peeked in to see what had happened, Günter could only shake his head before taking out a stiff-bristled brush and going to work on His Majesty's cloak.

"I can't do this," Yuuri muttered under his breath. He shook his head. "No, you can't say that. Wolfram, I've been thinking... no, he'll know right away that it's going to be bad news that way. It's like this, Wolfram..."

He rehearsed what he was going to say all the way down the hall to Gwendal's room.

It wasn't nearly as far enough away as he'd have liked, and he wasn't sure he could go through with it when he saw Gwendal standing outside the door. "Hey, Gwendal," he laughed nervously. "I just, uh, see, it's like this, I wanted to, well, I know that we'd agreed that, but, you see..."

Without turning around, Gwendal rapped his knuckles against the door, twice, and then he walked past Yuuri, leaving him alone in the hallway. When the doorknob turned, Yuuri wanted to call after him, to beg him not to leave him alone here, and then the door opened.

"I don't know why you're knocking this time," Wolfram said as he pulled the door open, and then he froze. Yuuri's name stuck in his throat and all he could manage was a ticking noise.

Yuuri looked up and down the hall and then back at Wolfram. "Can I come in?"

Wolfram wasn't looking well. His skin was pale and he looked as if he'd just found out his horse died. Yuuri put a hand to Wolfram's forehead to see if he felt cold, only to snatch his hand away the moment his brain registered the warmth under his knuckles.

This would be a really good time for someone to attempt to kidnap him. Maybe he should have arranged it ahead of time.

"Wolfram."

The look on Wolfram's face made him feel like he was coming to tell him that his horse had died.

"I just wanted to see you," he said quietly, touching his fingertips to Wolfram's cheek. "That's all."

It should have been enough, but as he turned to go, Wolfram's fingers clamped around his wrist. "That's not all," he said. "So tell me why you're really here."

After he stepped into Gwendal's chambers, the sound of the door closing behind him was like a death knoll.

Wolfram had been expecting this, and when Yuuri had turned away, he'd had every intention of going along with it, and pretending that all was well. Yuuri had declared to him that he wanted to get married, and right away, and the last thing Wolfram had been inclined to do was to let him change his mind. The humiliation would be far too great, to be stood up by the king on the day that all the speculation and rumors were to end.

He couldn't do it.

Wolfram crossed the room and leaned against the windowsill. At least if his legs gave out after Yuuri told him why they couldn't get married, no one would be the wiser.

He crossed his arms and waited.

"Wolfram," Yuuri began again, "I..." He took a deep breath. "I think you should know something, before we get married."

It wasn't the way Wolfram expected the conversation to start. He inclined his head slightly to indicate he was listening.

"I, that day," Yuuri licked his lips. "I meant it," he heard himself say, and he almost bit down on his tongue. "I meant it," he repeated softly, "but for the wrong reasons."

As far as Wolfram was concerned, any reason that made Yuuri look him right in the eye and tell him, "let's get married," was a good enough reason for him. He felt his body tense up again.

Yuuri licked his lips again, and he couldn't help dropping his gaze to Wolfram's mouth any more than he could help touching his fingers to lips parted in surprise. "I just..."

He felt like his horse had trampled on his chest, and Yuuri was only making it worse. Wolfram hadn't planned on making it easy, but Yuuri dragging it out like this was going to kill him. He could hear his voice break as he said it for Yuuri.

"You've changed your mind."

"No! Well, I mean..."

Wolfram let his rage take the forefront. If he focused on how angry Yuuri was making him right now and how wrong it was for him to let it get this far before being man enough to say anything, then he could ignore the shattered pieces of his heart.

"Get out," he said evenly. "I trust you'll be the one to break the news to everyone."

"Wolfram..."

Wolfram didn't mean to do it, but his vision was colored an angry, violent shade of red, and he couldn't even remember summoning the elements until he noticed the flames dancing around his fingertips. He dispelled them with a shake of his hand and rubbed at his forehead with his thumb and ring finger as he sat down on the windowsill.

"When you find the woman of your dreams," he said tiredly, "and you invite me to your wedding, please understand if I decline to attend."

It was the resignation in his voice that did it. "You will be there, Wolfram," Yuuri said, his voice sounding very much like it belonged to the ruler of the kingdom.

"Yuuri..." Wolfram wanted to die. He could hear the pleading tone to his voice and he'd never been so shamed in his life.

Yuuri closed the distance between them and dropped to one knee, to peer up at Wolfram's face. He brushed Wolfram's hair from his eyes and attempted a wan smile.

"You'll be there," he said softly, "because you're the one I want to marry."

Wolfram's breathing hitched painfully. If Yuuri was doing this out of pity, he'd never, ever forgive him, but he'd be foolish to deny himself the one thing he wanted most in the world.

"You'd better not spend too much time dancing with all the guests," he warned. "I didn't spend the better part of a week teaching you just so you could have one more way of flirting with everyone you meet."

Yuuri laughed, dangerously close to giggling with the sense of relief that washed over him, and he pressed his head to Wolfram's shoulder. "I promise I'll try," he said as he stood up, "but you know I have no control over Lady Celi."

Wolfram attempted to glare at him, but there was no real heat in it, so he rolled his eyes instead. "Just watch where you put your hands."

Yuuri reached out to touch Wolfram's bottom lip with his thumb. "I promise."

The moment the door closed behind Yuuri, Wolfram buried his face in his hands and took several deep shuddering breaths. If they weren't married by the end of the day, he would kill Yuuri.

It hadn't gone the way he'd thought it would, Yuuri mused as he made his way back to his bedroom, but then very little in Shin Makoku, or in Japan for that matter, ever did. The important thing was that usually everything still managed to turn out for the best.

What could he have told Wolfram, anyway, that would have made his fiancé change his mind? He tried to envision the conversation in which he explained that the reason he'd blurted out the proposal, even though they were already engaged, was because he'd found himself leaning toward Wolfram's lips.

The reason he'd wanted to be sure they were firmly wed, not merely betrothed, was because he suddenly imagined what it would be like if they ended the engagement. He'd always thought of finding himself a nice girl, someone not too much like his mother, but one that would cheerfully accept his mother's idiosyncrasies and odd behavior.

Someone like Wolfram.

What Yuuri had never imagined, what had never occurred to him until that day, looking at Wolfram's mouth and feeling his breath on his face, was that he wasn't the only one who would be free to find someone else to spend the rest of his life with.

The idea of anyone else sharing a bed with Wolfram had tipped his world on its side, and he'd been left with a single thought pulsing through his body.

Mine.

Yuuri had reached his room and, unsurprisingly, Günter was waiting for him in the hall. It was obvious he was struggling not to lose his composure and give in to the urge to wrap his arms around His Majesty.

"Yuuri!" Greta called out as she ran toward him, waving a bouquet of flowers. "I almost forgot!" She picked out one of the flowers and handed it to him. "Lady Celi said this one is yours."

Yuuri dropped to a crouch to be at eye level with his adopted daughter. "Mine?" he asked, accepting it with a smile. It had a much nicer ring to it this time around.

It was very surreal, Yuuri realized, more than finding out he'd been chosen to be king before he was born, more than being flushed down a toilet, more than discovering he'd proposed to and accepted a duel from the man he was about to marry today.

He wondered if his father had felt the same way, and he glanced over at his parents, smiling at his mother who was waving at him and cooing enthusiastically.

He'd have to thank Konrad and Murata later for bringing them here. He'd not really thought how much it would bother him, their missing his wedding, until now.

His mother didn't realize she'd been given her cue until Lady Celi walked over to their bench and beckoned for Jennifer to accompany her to where their sons were standing.

Yuuri touched the flower he was wearing nervously. It was black, of course, so black it looked almost purple, with a small starburst of bright gold at its center. Greta had whispered in his ear that it was Lady Celi's newest flower, something that had surprised Yuuri as he'd not really thought of her interests lying in horticulture these days.

He'd not seen Wolfram since he'd declared his intentions again, and at the moment a rich velvet drape separated him from his fiancé. It seemed to serve little purpose other than to draw out the suspense. Lady Celi disappeared on the other side as his own mother stood near him and took his hand in hers. He found himself squeezing her fingers gratefully as the flute began to play and the curtain was drawn back.

Yuuri had seen Wolfram earlier, but he'd not really seen him, so caught up in his anxiety and guilt that he'd only noticed Wolfram's face and his hands. Now that he was sure that this was what he wanted to do, he could only stare.

He'd known from the moment he'd first laid eyes on Wolfram that he was attractive, but it was nothing compared to the way he looked right now. It wasn't the crisp white vest and poet sleeves of his shirt, or the snug fit of seamless looking trousers. It wasn't the brilliant blue of his brooch, the only bit of color he wore, or the faint scent of a flower wafting the short distance between them.

Wolfram was, quite simply, breathtakingly beautiful.

Not even Lady Celi, dressed both elegantly and far more conservatively than he'd ever seen (which wasn't saying much), could compare, and Yuuri's fingers, still in his mother's grasp, twitched with the urge to run through Wolfram's hair.

He caught Wolfram's gaze with his own and it took a moment for him to realize that his mother was nudging him. "Yuuu-chaan," she sang.

Yuuri wasn't sure if Günter had explained this to him before, but Wolfram seemed equally in need of guidance, and that made him feel a little better as Lady Celi came to stand in front of him while Jennifer crossed over to where the former maou had been, but he had little time to register anything but the way his future mother-in-law was tilting her head to the side and winking at him.

"Beautiful Wolfram," she said, deftly tucking the blossom behind his ear. She sighed dramatically before pulling the flower Greta had given him earlier from his pocket and turning to hand it to Jennifer with a graceful bow of her head.

His mother squealed with delight and clapped her hands together so enthusiastically Yuuri was sure the petals would scatter all over the floor. "Yuuri's Heart," she bubbled, and despite the fact that her entire body was quivering with excitement she managed to tuck it neatly behind Wolfram's ear, arranging his hair around it skillfully and turning back to stand beside her son-in-law to beam at him and at Lady Celi.

He hadn't realized that was it until he was nudged again, this time by Celi.

"Kiss him," she urged.

He was pushed toward Wolfram at the same moment Jennifer had given Wolfram a shove, and they smacked their heads together in the center.

"Ow," they hissed in unison, only to hear the clearing of several throats. He could hear Lady Celi humming, could hear again, without words, "kiss him." The humming seemed far more suggestive, though, and he would swear that tacked onto that was "and don't hold back."

And so Yuuri cupped Wolfram's cheek and did what he was told.

It had seemed a lot easier earlier in the day, even during the past week, talking about it, going along with the plans and lessons, accepting that he was going to build a future with Wolfram. The idea had appealed to him, probably for a while, but increasingly so during the last twenty-four hours.

Although the ceremony was something Yuuri remembered vividly, the same could be said for very little regarding anything that took place afterwards.

He smiled nervously as he changed into his pajamas. He did recall overhearing a conversation between Günter and Lady Celi, who had dragged him onto the dance floor the very moment Jennifer had released Günter in order to dance with her own husband. He'd barely been able to hear Günter's hushed whispers about the ceremony, but there'd been no mistaking Lady Celi's laughter as she told him she'd just made it up that morning, and didn't he think that Yuuri's Heart was quite beautiful?

He'd known what was to come and he really had been looking forward to it, but finding Wolfram already in his bed after he finished struggling with his buttons, and knowing from the bare shoulders that Wolfram was as naked as he'd been the first time he'd slipped into Yuuri's bed made him more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. Somehow he'd assumed that being married would either make it easier, or that Wolfram would be able to read his mind and not be quite as forward as he'd been during their engagement.

Yuuri swallowed nervously.

Wolfram propped himself up on his elbow and rested his head in his hand. The bed linens slid down his arm, exposing far more of Wolfram's chest than Yuuri was comfortable with. With so much on display, Yuuri could feel the color rising in his cheeks. He looked away, unable to let his eyes wander toward the curve of Wolfram's hip under the covers.

"You're not going to stand there all night, are you?"

Yuuri didn't think it was wise to tell Wolfram that yes, actually, he'd thought that seemed like a very good idea. This was worse than being naked in the bath with Wolfram. At least the water provided some sort of cover, not only in what it concealed but in that there was a purpose for being undressed there. Here, in the privacy of his bed chambers, with only himself and Wolfram, and little danger of being interrupted (knowing Wolfram, it would be upon penalty of death if anyone dared even think of it) - it was far more intimate, and a good deal more, Yuuri realized, than he'd been prepared for.

Things weren't supposed to change just because they were married. Not between him and Wolfram, not so soon after they'd made promises of loyalty, devotion, and fidelity. Well, that's what he'd been told he'd promised the moment he'd sealed his lips to Wolfram's.

He felt a little bit sick.

Yuuri had no idea how long he stood there, staring at nothing in particular, until Wolfram made a sound of disgust and rolled over on the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Stay there and freeze for all I care," he muttered. "I told you not to eat so much of that curry."

He was dumbfounded. He'd expected more of an argument, more insults, more...anything to make this more difficult than it already was. Wolfram was simply giving up? He swallowed again, looking at the shock of hair visible on the pillow, and when Wolfram's snores reached his ears, he crept silently to the side of the bed and carefully lifted the edges of the blankets.

Tonight he thought he might even welcome Wolfram's restless sleeping habits.

He'd been tense, but the pressure seemed less intense, fuzzy, not important. There were things that he needed a clear head for, but right now he could only focus on one thing. He'd been cold earlier with the loss of blankets but now his entire body felt warm and he was incredibly relaxed.

No, not relaxed, it went beyond that. It was quite simply, the most incredible feeling.

Adjectives slowly permeated his consciousness. Warm, wet, slick, tight... Yuuri's hips bucked and he moaned. Oh, right there.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a wet dream this intense. His entire body shuddered and he gasped as his back arched off the bed. His fingers gripped the linens and his eyes flew open.

Damn, that had felt...

He was still hard. He was hard and he could feel the warmth that enveloped him, was intently aware of the tongue slithering along the underside of his cock. He sat up, letting another moan escape involuntarily as the suction increased.

Wolfram's head was in his lap and his tongue was doing things that Yuuri had never imagined before. Wolfram was sucking his cock, enthusiastically at that, and it was the best feeling in the world.

Yuuri bucked wildly. It was Wolfram. His mind struggled to break free of the warm feeling in his belly and the tightening of his balls. He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't wanted it - he didn't want it now.

Wolfram must have noticed because suddenly the suction was gone, the warmth replaced by a rush of cold air, and all that was left was a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach and a lingering desire. He expected his erection to wilt but it stood straight up, as if to defy anything he might say next. Yuuri tried to speak but all he could do was squeak a few times.

Wolfram was still lying between Yuuri's legs, his chin resting on laced fingers. His hair was mussed, some of the strands sticking to the side of his head and between his eyebrows where a couple of very Gwendal-like wrinkles were forming. Yuuri tried to move backwards on the bed, only his arms felt heavy and he realized that his legs were imprisoned with Wolfram's weight on his pajamas. The wrinkles deepened.

"I, ah..."

Yuuri had no idea what to say. He was angry at Wolfram for taking liberties, but he could see his own blame in the matter. He could feel his body growing warmer, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and the worst of all was that he felt...

Horny.

He gulped and closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. He'd been nearly horrified to see Wolfram bobbing up and down on his shaft, but it hadn't done anything to make him less aroused. If anything, watching Wolfram had brought him dangerously close to something he wasn't willing to put a name to. He was afraid to look at Wolfram, not wanting to give the wrong signal.

He wasn't even sure what the right signal was.

When he felt Wolfram move, when the weight that had kept his legs tangled in his own pajamas was gone and he could feel the bed dip next to him. Part of him grew irrationally angrier that his husband had given up so easily. If Wolfram had continued, then Yuuri would be forced to face whether he liked it or not.

Several droplets leaked out of the head of his cock as if to remind him that he most certainly had enjoyed what Wolfram had started.

Yuuri could hear Wolfram's breathing, uneven and raspy, and he didn't open his eyes until he could almost feel the shudder that ran through Wolfram's body. He blinked up at the ceiling, unwilling or unable to turn his head and meet Wolfram's gaze.

"Wimp."

Yuuri finally looked at him, but for once he didn't think he could argue. What had he been thinking, to make promises to Wolfram that he'd known he was incapable of keeping? Not the ones they'd sworn to each other, but the unspoken ones, the implication that Yuuri had accepted Wolfram, all of him, for better and for worse.

It couldn't get much worse than this.

Wolfram was lying on his side and he waved a hand in the air in front of him. "You have no idea how much time I had to sit in that room with my mother, listening to her give me 'the talk', so if you don't like it, you can blame her." His voice was annoyed, almost angry, but Yuuri noticed a slight trembling in Wolfram's fingers before they curled around the covers and clenched tightly. "I can't help it if you snore. It seemed like a good way to get you to stop."

He seemed to have just as much trouble meeting Yuuri's eyes but when he did, Yuuri was taken aback by the fire in them. He couldn't blame Wolfram for being angry. He wanted to say something, to clear things up, but each time he opened his mouth he imagined Wolfram's instead, wrapped around his shaft, and he blushed harder.

Wolfram snorted in disgust and turned around so his back was to Yuuri. Yuuri sighed. He deserved any silent treatment he got, even if it wasn't like Wolfram to act this way. He wasn't sure if he liked this any better than having Wolfram rail at him. At first he thought Wolfram had fallen asleep almost immediately - it wouldn't be the first time he'd done so in the middle of something important - but he realized the ragged breathing wasn't a snore at all.

Was Wolfram sick?

Yuuri rolled to his side, got caught in his pajamas again, and kicked angrily at them until one leg came free. He'd worry about his modesty in a minute. He lightly touched Wolfram's shoulder.

"Wolfram?"

Wolfram rolled away, burying his face further into the pillow and further alarming Yuuri, who began shaking him. "Wolfram!"

"Baseball," Wolfram muttered. "Tell me about baseball."

Yuuri blinked, unsure he'd heard him right. "Baseball?"

Wolfram groaned.

"Yeah, ok, right, then, baseball. Well, there's four bases. First through third and home plate. And there are nine innings, unless there's a tie, and there are infielders and outfielders, and oh my gosh are you sure you're ok?" He pulled on Wolfram's shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

When he realized what was bothering Wolfram he gulped, uncomfortably aware that he was in exactly the same position. It was hardly fair to either of them and Yuuri closed his eyes. He was not staring at Wolfram's arousal.

Yes, yes he was.

It seemed huge, so much so that Yuuri found himself reaching for his own to compare. Wolfram huffed at him. "You can't even do that right," he grumbled, as if there was only one way. "You do it like this."

"Wolfram!"

It came out, not as an indignant complaint, but a breathy gasp, and Wolfram's thumb slid easily over the tip as his fingers curled around Yuuri's erection with a firm grip. Yuuri's eyes were half shut, but not so much that he couldn't see Wolfram's tongue dart out to lick his lips.

He heard himself groan, disappointed that Wolfram was doing nothing more than holding him.

"I can't make you want it."

Yuuri shook his head, although whether that meant he was agreeing or disagreeing he wasn't sure. Wolfram didn't seem to be making him do anything, for his body had ideas of its own. He arched his back as Wolfram's thumb moved in small circles, pushing his hips closer.

He thought Wolfram would never get the hint, so when he found himself enveloped again in warmth, he felt as if every bone in his body had melted. This time when Wolfram's name slipped past his lips, it was long, drawn out, and not quite complete.

Now he understood some of those images he'd found on Shouri's computer.

His fingers wound through Wolfram's hair, and it was a shock to find it sleek and silky - had he never touched it before? He was gripping the linens so hard he was sure he might tear them, and when Wolfram moved slightly, his lips sliding closer to the head without releasing Yuuri completely, he made a small sound of protest. He could hear the satisfied "humph" from Wolfram as the blond settled once again between his legs.

He was so close - should he warn Wolfram he was ready to come? Did Wolfram want to swallow?

What the hell was that?

Wolfram's finger, cold and slick with cream, had slid inside Yuuri, and despite the sharp pang, it wasn't enough to stop the waves of pleasure. He flung his head back and made a garbled noise - it might have been Wolfram's name - and it took several seconds for him to acknowledge that Wolfram had gone where no one had ever gone before.

Wolfram let Yuuri's erection slip from his mouth and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He'd swallowed.

Yuuri really really understood the pictures he'd found on Shouri's computer now.

Wolfram might have been the one who'd taken it all in his mouth but it was Yuuri who found his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. What did he say to the man who had given him a series of firsts - the man he'd married hours earlier? It didn't help that Wolfram was looking at him with a pleased expression. Wolfram crooked his finger.

"Fuck!"

Yuuri slapped both hands over his mouth. He didn't think there had ever been a time in his life when he'd had reason to utter that word, but whatever Wolfram had done had made his knees turn to jelly.

"Don't..."

It seemed he was incapable of handling more than one syllable at a time, and he bit his lip, anticipating what was going to come next, only to feel the finger slip back out. Wolfram rolled over and retrieved his nightgown from the floor - not that he'd worn it at all - and used it to wipe off his finger.

"Since you're such a wimp," Wolfram sniffed at him, "we'll just have to wait until you're ready again."

"Until - what?"

Wolfram finished cleaning off his finger and began cleaning up the sticky mess on his stomach. Yuuri hadn't realized that Wolfram had reached his own orgasm.

"How...?"

The pink nightgown was thrown off the bed and Wolfram gestured to Yuuri's now flaccid cock. "You're such a wimp," he repeated, "that I'd better let you go first." He leaned forward suddenly, his hand on the pillow next to Yuuri's head. "Unless you want me to do you first."

"Wha-? No, I-"

It was Wolfram's fault he was incapable of finishing a sentence, but this time it was far more direct, for Yuuri's lips were captured in a bruising kiss. When it was over, Yuuri touched his fingers to his lips, right where Wolfram's teeth had cut him, and he watched as Wolfram grabbed all the blankets on the bed and rolled over again. Yuuri's own breathing was shaky as he let his eyes wander over Wolfram's hair, where it clung to the back of his neck, and continued down the curve of his shoulder. Yuuri's lips twitched against his finger and he wiped off the blood. His first no-holds-barred kiss, and it had tasted - horrible.

Yuuri couldn't stop smiling as he folded his hands under his head and kicked the pajamas the rest of the way off.

He couldn't wait for the second.