Merry KKM Xmas, dark_tenshi17!
Title: Ways And Means - Chapter One
Name of Author: srgt_s_venom
Name of Recipient: dark_tenshi17
Pairings/Characters: Wolfram/Yuuri, Conrad. Others mentioned.
Rating: PG13 to R...ish
Warnings: AU, dark, yaoi
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any of its characters, I just play with them from time to time. So far I've always returned them without (permanent) mental scarring.
Original Request: Yuuram, R if possible, plot bunny: I'd like something AU where Yuuri goes to visit a brothel and gets Wolfram.
Summary: In a time of Civil War, the task of uniting the pepole of Shin Makoku falls to Yuuri, a 15 year old school boy who knows little of politics or the intriegues at court. There are those who would wish to undermine the young Maou's claim to throne or simply to dispose on him entirely. Chapter 1 of ... many, most likely.
Notes: I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what the requester asked for, but I was pressed for time when the plotbunny lodged itsself firmly in my mind. The story basically runs conform with canon until Ruthenberg, but that's when things started going horribly, horribly wrong. The original prompt kind of sprouted extensive backstory that'll take several chapters to deal with, but with time constraints and a massive writer's block this only turned more of a teaser. ^_^; but I hope you enjoy reading anyway.
Way And Means
Shibuya Yuuri, 28th Maou of Shin Makoku gulped.
Why exactly Gwendal and Conrad had chosen this particular place to spend the night was beyond him. Sure, intact houses were rare in times of war, but any shack at the wayside would have done in the black-haired teen's mind. He wasn't picky, hell, he'd been living in a small family home in the outer regions of the Tokyo prefecture since could remember, it wasn't until a weird coincidence had flushed him down a toilet and into this strange world full of demons and flying skellettons and for gods' sake DRAGONS that he'd believed he'd be living anything more than a quiet, normal life. You know, going to school, playing a bit of baseball on the side, with no greater responsibilities than taking out the trash and maybe helping his mother carry home the shopping from time to time.
But now?
The young king sighed as he studied the splendor of the room his advisors had left him in. Wherever his gaze travelled there was artfully crafted furniture made of none but the most expensive timbers and gold ornaments and crystal wineglasses. Scented candles were spreading what was supposedly meant to be an alluring smell that mixed with the delicate wafts of perfume emanating from the fine silken sheets.
All in all, he assumed, once the heavy brocade curtains were drawn, this place was completely isolated from the outside world. Memories of war, death and hunger were forgotten for a few hours, as if one traded them in for a pair of comfortable slippers at the doorstep. Everything in the room was carefully arranged to dazzle the visitor, blind him for the grim reality he wished to escape and draw him into fantasies of times where everything was possible.
Basically, like a bad porn movie.
Not that he'd watched any of course. Well, maybe taken a peek. Hey, he was fifteen and entitled to a bit of curiosity.
But this was exactly what he imagined them to be like. This was just ... trying too hard. Nobody could afford this kind of lifestyle. He'd seen chambers less elegantly furnished at the von Voltaire castle. Come to think about it, he hadn't seen any room this wastefully decorated. Sure, escaping reality was the sole purpose of “houses of lose morals” as Günther preferred to call them, but all Yuuri found himself able to do was wonder who could afford a room like this for even a night. None of the soldiers or simple farmers could gather that kind of money in a year.
Yuuri eyed the wide bed with a great deal of distrust, absolutely positive that he was going to break out into a rather unsightly rash, if he thought too much about what it was generally used for. Instead, he chose to flop into a chair at the window, that looked much more inviting.
There'd been a lengthy discussion of where to take refuge this night. It wasn't easy to conceal even a small army when you were deep in enemy territory - and fifty men could hardly be considered a formidable fighting force - but a campfire in the wilderness woud have attracted more attention than taking over a solitary mansion.
Yuuri hadn't known Gwendal for long, but the deep wrinkles embedded in the man's forehead were proof enough that he did not make decisions lightly.
He was right, Yuuri guessed, the house lay secluded to protect the visitors' privacy and thus took only few guards to secure the location, and it offered enough space for the weary men to rest. But why the hell had he been given this kind of room? Yuuri would've been content, no happier, sitting with the others and sleeping on the floor under a bundle of rough blankets than.. than... this.
Why him?
Because he was their king? Oh, there were ever so sure about that, weren't they? How could they be when even he had trouble believing the story. It all sounded so reddiculous.
So his soul had been sent to Earth from this weird fantasy-style country so it could be born by his mother and raised in a safely until he had barely turned 15. And then, when need was most desperate, he was to be called to overthrow some false king and retake the throne that was rightfully his, uniting his people in the process.
Yeah, sure, they covered that lesson in his last year of Jr. Highschool. “Saving a country 101”. Pretty basic stuff. He'd aced that course along with “Sweeping the princess of her feet - with style” Piece of cake, right?
He gave a snort of disbelief as he shrugged out of his stiff travelling jacket and tossed the brown wig he had been given onto the table.
What was he doing here, really? Most of the time he'd spent in this world, he'd been sneaking around like a thief in the night. What made Conrad so sure people were going to listen to anything he said?
Truth was he was tired, plain and simple. His clothes were cold and clammy, his muscles ached from riding all day and even though he would never have admitted it, he missed his home. Everything was hostile and unfamiliar here. He trusted Conrad, he trusted the people he was with, but even they constantly reminded him not to go anywhere without a guard of at least three. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt truely safe here.
All he really wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and dry and stop wondering for a few hours if this was reality or some kind of weird dream.
The alleged Maou yawned and found his eyes straying towards the bed again. Right about now, it was starting to look a lot less daunting - but awfully soft and comfortable instead. The pillows were probably filled with the finest, fluffiest downs, the kind that you could just sink into and litterally feel your troubles drifting away. Maybe if he just ... avoided thinking too much, he could give it a try. Stretch out. Just rest for a moment.
Ignoring the plate of food a mindful guard had no doubt left for him, Yuuri staggered towards the bed already asleep before he could find out whether his assumptions about the pillows were true or not.
*** ~~~ ***
It wasn't until several hours later that Yuuri stirred.
Something had roused him, but what exactly Yuuri neither knew nor particularly cared. Mornings were never a quiet time of the day in the Shibuya household; whether it was his dad looking for his bunch of keys or Shouri getting ready for school next door, there was always some kind of commotion.
He'd had an interesting dream. About what he wasn't quite sure, but maybe he'd be able to continue it, if he fell asleep again right away.
His family was sure to have him up and awake soon enough, but for now the bed was warm and entirely too comfortable; he already lulling him back to sleep.
His mother would be by soon anyway, stroking over his head and waking him with a good morning kiss like she always did. He could almost hear her voice already, merrily calling “Rise and shine, Yuu-chan. You'll get in trouble if you don't get up on time.” And then he'd burry his head in the pillow, and give a grunt asking for “Five more minutes”. That was the way it always was, the way it had always been ever since he was small.
Hmm, he could already hear her moving around the room, picking up stray clothes and sorting them into her washing basket.
Still more asleep than awake, Yuuri rolled onto his other side, eyes still tightly shut against the faint morning light, when he heard the whisper of clothes at his bedside.
Yes, there it was, the gentle hand, caressing his sleep-touseled hair, fingertips ghosting over the side of his face to rouse him gently. Obiediantly he squirmed, turning to muffle his sleepy protest. Anytime now he would be reminded that breakfast was waiting for him downstairs, that he was going to miss baseball practise if he didn't get a move on or that his dad could drop him off if he hurried up.
But the soft-spoken words didn't come. When the tender touch faded aswell Yuuri frowned in mild confusion.
Was something wrong?
Yuuri had just intended to crack his eyes open when the matress dipped as someone sat down beside him. And before he knew what was happening nimble fingers busied themselves with undoing the buttons of his shirt and the light touch of lips he'd been waiting for occured in a place he'd rather not have his mother's lips go.
A startled squawk escaped the young king and he flailed, hurrying to roll away from the warm body at his side. So deeply shocked by the warm, moist feeling of lips travelling across his collarbone, he didn't even realise how far he'd moved until he keeled over the other side of the matress.
For a moment Yuuri saw multi-coloured stars errupting infront of his closed eyes, which he suspected had something to do with the spectacular pain where the back of his head had colided with the hard stone floor.
It took him a while to realise he'd been spoken to.
“Nervous?” A taunting voice filtered through the haze.
Suddenly the throbbing pain was forgotten, and he was about to give the intruder a piece of mind about how he had every right to be edgy. After all, he had been sleeping peacefully when he had been all but assaulted. Sounding so smug and superior that he had almost cracked his skull open on the stone tiles nearly drove him up the wall.
Rubbing his head in irritation, Yuuri sat to snap at the other, but, when he looked up, he found the words caught squarely in his throat.
Looking down at him was a pair of the clearest, greenest eyes he could remember ever setting sight upon.
Yuuri felt the urge to blink, but found he couldn't.
Long dark eyelashes framed the twin set of emerald orbs that were watching him with an expression of barely contained amusement and forrmed a strangely appealing contrast to the shock of honey-blond hair that curled around the delicate facial features. In the light of the few solitary candles that remained, the impossibly smooth skin glowed pearly white. It stretched past the pair of pink lips, curled slightly in an amused smirk, all the way down an elegantly curved neck until it disappeared out of view down the collar of a light silk robe.
So captivated, it was only when the stranger spoke that Yuuri realized his voice was just a little to deep to belong to a woman.
“Flattery isn't going to get you any extras.”
The dark-haired boy frowned. “Eh?”
“Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but calling me pretty won't pursuade me to do anything I wasn't willing to do anyway.”
Involuntarily Yuuri squirmed under the blond's gaze. Had his mouth indeed gotten the better of him and spoken without his consent? “Bu... I wasn't ...” he stuttered uncertainly. “I just... wait, what do you mean extras?”
“You are aware what kind of house this is?”
A meaningful raise of the blond's eyebrows confirmed Yuuri's suspicions and made him sputter, choking on his own breath by accident and errupting into a coughing fit.
With a sheer endless supply of patience the blond settled down on the edge of the bed, watching him intently, but with no display of empathy whatsover. When he casually crossed his legs however, Yuuri only wheezed worse. He found that what he had previously believed to be a full-length dressing down, indeed stopped only few centimeters below the waist so that the blue garment left little to the imagination. Instead it now revealed two absurdly long legs, covered with the same pale skin Yuuri found it so hard to turn his gaze from. And he wasn't even attracted to men.
This was just absurd, Yuuri thought as he he slowly began to catch his breath.
“Look...” Another cough. “There's been a mistake.”
“Oh, I don't think so. I'm quite sure I've been asked to...” The petulant blond breathed a quiet laugh and smirked suggestively. “...keep you company.”
Trying to gasp and grumble at the same time, Yuuri only narrowly avoided another coughing attack. Who had dared to make such a request?
It had probably been Murata. Yeah, that sure sounded like him alright, being the damn social chameleon he was. If even finding himself in another world didn't phase the guy, surely he would think it a great joke sending his friend a prostitute. And a male one at that. Surely he was having a great laugh at his expense right about now.
“W-was he... I mean, that person... was he about this tall? And with black hair? Glas....?” he inquired, but suddenly his voice died in his throat. The other's patience had apparently worn thin; he pushed off from the bed, lowering himself into Yuuri's lap. Something in his eyes -a predatory glint - seemed to suggest there'd been enough talk for his taste. He leaned close, so close that a strand of golden hair brushed Yuuri's cheek and he could feel warm breath fanning over his lips.
“Does it matter?”
His heart seemed to skip not one but several beats at once. The other's voice had dropped several pitches, was smooth as silk as he whispered in a tone that sent shivers all through his body.
The blond's intent was only all to clear as he pushed even closer, sliding a leg between Yuuri's. With the greatest of ease he was help captive by the other's gaze, as if hypnotised, incapable of any movement other than drawing short ragged breaths. All of a sudden his mouth seemed completely dry, tongue darting forward in a nervous attempt to wet his lips.
And suddenly his lips brushed Yuuri's, briefly at first, but when he gave no sign of protest quickly capturing his mouth in a moist, warm kiss. Almost involuntarily Yuuri felt his eyelids flutter and fall shut.
He had no clue of what do do. Whether to move or not. Or whether he was even capable of acting, when his body refused to cooperate as it was. He should be considering himself lucky he hadn't dropped dead of pure shock. And yet, shouldn't he be kissing back?
A triumphant growl vibrated in the back of the others throat - Yuuri felt it more than he heard it - when he moved a hand to his back. He was rewarded for his boldness, when slickened lips parted and a tongue traced the outlines of his mouth in silent invitation. The teenage king shuddered deeply at the unfamiliar sensation, but then the tongue was back, brushing his own and coaxing him forward to explore on his own.
He felt a gasp break from his lips, escape into the kiss they shared.
Yuuri's entire world was spinning. Drowning and rising, exploding and being reborn all at once. His head was light and all sounds oddly muffled as if he'd been drugged. There was this senation of soaring and plummeting that made something in his stomache tie itsself in uncomfortable knots, only to melt at the next swish of tongue against his.
The blond was incredibly adept at wiping his mind blissfully blank the simplest shift of balence and he didn't even object when the boy whose name he didn't even know pressed against him, pushing him to the cold stone floor until they were flush against each other. He finally released a heavily panting Yuuri from the kiss, attacking his neck with newfound dedication.
We should be in bed or something a nagging voice at the back of his mind insisted, and Yuuri gave a weak attempt a struggling free, but was immediately stopped dead when a hand cupped him through the material of his trousers. A wanton moan that Yuuri only dully recognised as his own echoed though the room and his hips bucked involuntarily upwards, deperate to increase the tantalizing friction.
Somewhere outside in the corridors there was the sound of hurried steps and urgent sounding voices but that hardly mattered when the blond stranger moved to straddle his hips. He just wanted more, more. Always more.
Suddenly the sound of splintering wood and jerked him back to reality. The enire door had been forced off its hinges and crashed to the floor to admit Conrad and a group of at least ten men.
“Wolfram.” Though the soldier's voice bore a note of absolute bewilderment Yuuri had never heard before, his sword continued to point streight at the blond's heart. “Back away from his Majesty.”
Yuuri's eyes flew wide open. He had not suspected a thing until he felt the cold blade of a dagger pressed harshly against his throat.
Name of Author: srgt_s_venom
Name of Recipient: dark_tenshi17
Pairings/Characters: Wolfram/Yuuri, Conrad. Others mentioned.
Rating: PG13 to R...ish
Warnings: AU, dark, yaoi
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any of its characters, I just play with them from time to time. So far I've always returned them without (permanent) mental scarring.
Original Request: Yuuram, R if possible, plot bunny: I'd like something AU where Yuuri goes to visit a brothel and gets Wolfram.
Summary: In a time of Civil War, the task of uniting the pepole of Shin Makoku falls to Yuuri, a 15 year old school boy who knows little of politics or the intriegues at court. There are those who would wish to undermine the young Maou's claim to throne or simply to dispose on him entirely. Chapter 1 of ... many, most likely.
Notes: I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what the requester asked for, but I was pressed for time when the plotbunny lodged itsself firmly in my mind. The story basically runs conform with canon until Ruthenberg, but that's when things started going horribly, horribly wrong. The original prompt kind of sprouted extensive backstory that'll take several chapters to deal with, but with time constraints and a massive writer's block this only turned more of a teaser. ^_^; but I hope you enjoy reading anyway.
Way And Means
Shibuya Yuuri, 28th Maou of Shin Makoku gulped.
Why exactly Gwendal and Conrad had chosen this particular place to spend the night was beyond him. Sure, intact houses were rare in times of war, but any shack at the wayside would have done in the black-haired teen's mind. He wasn't picky, hell, he'd been living in a small family home in the outer regions of the Tokyo prefecture since could remember, it wasn't until a weird coincidence had flushed him down a toilet and into this strange world full of demons and flying skellettons and for gods' sake DRAGONS that he'd believed he'd be living anything more than a quiet, normal life. You know, going to school, playing a bit of baseball on the side, with no greater responsibilities than taking out the trash and maybe helping his mother carry home the shopping from time to time.
But now?
The young king sighed as he studied the splendor of the room his advisors had left him in. Wherever his gaze travelled there was artfully crafted furniture made of none but the most expensive timbers and gold ornaments and crystal wineglasses. Scented candles were spreading what was supposedly meant to be an alluring smell that mixed with the delicate wafts of perfume emanating from the fine silken sheets.
All in all, he assumed, once the heavy brocade curtains were drawn, this place was completely isolated from the outside world. Memories of war, death and hunger were forgotten for a few hours, as if one traded them in for a pair of comfortable slippers at the doorstep. Everything in the room was carefully arranged to dazzle the visitor, blind him for the grim reality he wished to escape and draw him into fantasies of times where everything was possible.
Basically, like a bad porn movie.
Not that he'd watched any of course. Well, maybe taken a peek. Hey, he was fifteen and entitled to a bit of curiosity.
But this was exactly what he imagined them to be like. This was just ... trying too hard. Nobody could afford this kind of lifestyle. He'd seen chambers less elegantly furnished at the von Voltaire castle. Come to think about it, he hadn't seen any room this wastefully decorated. Sure, escaping reality was the sole purpose of “houses of lose morals” as Günther preferred to call them, but all Yuuri found himself able to do was wonder who could afford a room like this for even a night. None of the soldiers or simple farmers could gather that kind of money in a year.
Yuuri eyed the wide bed with a great deal of distrust, absolutely positive that he was going to break out into a rather unsightly rash, if he thought too much about what it was generally used for. Instead, he chose to flop into a chair at the window, that looked much more inviting.
There'd been a lengthy discussion of where to take refuge this night. It wasn't easy to conceal even a small army when you were deep in enemy territory - and fifty men could hardly be considered a formidable fighting force - but a campfire in the wilderness woud have attracted more attention than taking over a solitary mansion.
Yuuri hadn't known Gwendal for long, but the deep wrinkles embedded in the man's forehead were proof enough that he did not make decisions lightly.
He was right, Yuuri guessed, the house lay secluded to protect the visitors' privacy and thus took only few guards to secure the location, and it offered enough space for the weary men to rest. But why the hell had he been given this kind of room? Yuuri would've been content, no happier, sitting with the others and sleeping on the floor under a bundle of rough blankets than.. than... this.
Why him?
Because he was their king? Oh, there were ever so sure about that, weren't they? How could they be when even he had trouble believing the story. It all sounded so reddiculous.
So his soul had been sent to Earth from this weird fantasy-style country so it could be born by his mother and raised in a safely until he had barely turned 15. And then, when need was most desperate, he was to be called to overthrow some false king and retake the throne that was rightfully his, uniting his people in the process.
Yeah, sure, they covered that lesson in his last year of Jr. Highschool. “Saving a country 101”. Pretty basic stuff. He'd aced that course along with “Sweeping the princess of her feet - with style” Piece of cake, right?
He gave a snort of disbelief as he shrugged out of his stiff travelling jacket and tossed the brown wig he had been given onto the table.
What was he doing here, really? Most of the time he'd spent in this world, he'd been sneaking around like a thief in the night. What made Conrad so sure people were going to listen to anything he said?
Truth was he was tired, plain and simple. His clothes were cold and clammy, his muscles ached from riding all day and even though he would never have admitted it, he missed his home. Everything was hostile and unfamiliar here. He trusted Conrad, he trusted the people he was with, but even they constantly reminded him not to go anywhere without a guard of at least three. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt truely safe here.
All he really wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and dry and stop wondering for a few hours if this was reality or some kind of weird dream.
The alleged Maou yawned and found his eyes straying towards the bed again. Right about now, it was starting to look a lot less daunting - but awfully soft and comfortable instead. The pillows were probably filled with the finest, fluffiest downs, the kind that you could just sink into and litterally feel your troubles drifting away. Maybe if he just ... avoided thinking too much, he could give it a try. Stretch out. Just rest for a moment.
Ignoring the plate of food a mindful guard had no doubt left for him, Yuuri staggered towards the bed already asleep before he could find out whether his assumptions about the pillows were true or not.
*** ~~~ ***
It wasn't until several hours later that Yuuri stirred.
Something had roused him, but what exactly Yuuri neither knew nor particularly cared. Mornings were never a quiet time of the day in the Shibuya household; whether it was his dad looking for his bunch of keys or Shouri getting ready for school next door, there was always some kind of commotion.
He'd had an interesting dream. About what he wasn't quite sure, but maybe he'd be able to continue it, if he fell asleep again right away.
His family was sure to have him up and awake soon enough, but for now the bed was warm and entirely too comfortable; he already lulling him back to sleep.
His mother would be by soon anyway, stroking over his head and waking him with a good morning kiss like she always did. He could almost hear her voice already, merrily calling “Rise and shine, Yuu-chan. You'll get in trouble if you don't get up on time.” And then he'd burry his head in the pillow, and give a grunt asking for “Five more minutes”. That was the way it always was, the way it had always been ever since he was small.
Hmm, he could already hear her moving around the room, picking up stray clothes and sorting them into her washing basket.
Still more asleep than awake, Yuuri rolled onto his other side, eyes still tightly shut against the faint morning light, when he heard the whisper of clothes at his bedside.
Yes, there it was, the gentle hand, caressing his sleep-touseled hair, fingertips ghosting over the side of his face to rouse him gently. Obiediantly he squirmed, turning to muffle his sleepy protest. Anytime now he would be reminded that breakfast was waiting for him downstairs, that he was going to miss baseball practise if he didn't get a move on or that his dad could drop him off if he hurried up.
But the soft-spoken words didn't come. When the tender touch faded aswell Yuuri frowned in mild confusion.
Was something wrong?
Yuuri had just intended to crack his eyes open when the matress dipped as someone sat down beside him. And before he knew what was happening nimble fingers busied themselves with undoing the buttons of his shirt and the light touch of lips he'd been waiting for occured in a place he'd rather not have his mother's lips go.
A startled squawk escaped the young king and he flailed, hurrying to roll away from the warm body at his side. So deeply shocked by the warm, moist feeling of lips travelling across his collarbone, he didn't even realise how far he'd moved until he keeled over the other side of the matress.
For a moment Yuuri saw multi-coloured stars errupting infront of his closed eyes, which he suspected had something to do with the spectacular pain where the back of his head had colided with the hard stone floor.
It took him a while to realise he'd been spoken to.
“Nervous?” A taunting voice filtered through the haze.
Suddenly the throbbing pain was forgotten, and he was about to give the intruder a piece of mind about how he had every right to be edgy. After all, he had been sleeping peacefully when he had been all but assaulted. Sounding so smug and superior that he had almost cracked his skull open on the stone tiles nearly drove him up the wall.
Rubbing his head in irritation, Yuuri sat to snap at the other, but, when he looked up, he found the words caught squarely in his throat.
Looking down at him was a pair of the clearest, greenest eyes he could remember ever setting sight upon.
Yuuri felt the urge to blink, but found he couldn't.
Long dark eyelashes framed the twin set of emerald orbs that were watching him with an expression of barely contained amusement and forrmed a strangely appealing contrast to the shock of honey-blond hair that curled around the delicate facial features. In the light of the few solitary candles that remained, the impossibly smooth skin glowed pearly white. It stretched past the pair of pink lips, curled slightly in an amused smirk, all the way down an elegantly curved neck until it disappeared out of view down the collar of a light silk robe.
So captivated, it was only when the stranger spoke that Yuuri realized his voice was just a little to deep to belong to a woman.
“Flattery isn't going to get you any extras.”
The dark-haired boy frowned. “Eh?”
“Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but calling me pretty won't pursuade me to do anything I wasn't willing to do anyway.”
Involuntarily Yuuri squirmed under the blond's gaze. Had his mouth indeed gotten the better of him and spoken without his consent? “Bu... I wasn't ...” he stuttered uncertainly. “I just... wait, what do you mean extras?”
“You are aware what kind of house this is?”
A meaningful raise of the blond's eyebrows confirmed Yuuri's suspicions and made him sputter, choking on his own breath by accident and errupting into a coughing fit.
With a sheer endless supply of patience the blond settled down on the edge of the bed, watching him intently, but with no display of empathy whatsover. When he casually crossed his legs however, Yuuri only wheezed worse. He found that what he had previously believed to be a full-length dressing down, indeed stopped only few centimeters below the waist so that the blue garment left little to the imagination. Instead it now revealed two absurdly long legs, covered with the same pale skin Yuuri found it so hard to turn his gaze from. And he wasn't even attracted to men.
This was just absurd, Yuuri thought as he he slowly began to catch his breath.
“Look...” Another cough. “There's been a mistake.”
“Oh, I don't think so. I'm quite sure I've been asked to...” The petulant blond breathed a quiet laugh and smirked suggestively. “...keep you company.”
Trying to gasp and grumble at the same time, Yuuri only narrowly avoided another coughing attack. Who had dared to make such a request?
It had probably been Murata. Yeah, that sure sounded like him alright, being the damn social chameleon he was. If even finding himself in another world didn't phase the guy, surely he would think it a great joke sending his friend a prostitute. And a male one at that. Surely he was having a great laugh at his expense right about now.
“W-was he... I mean, that person... was he about this tall? And with black hair? Glas....?” he inquired, but suddenly his voice died in his throat. The other's patience had apparently worn thin; he pushed off from the bed, lowering himself into Yuuri's lap. Something in his eyes -a predatory glint - seemed to suggest there'd been enough talk for his taste. He leaned close, so close that a strand of golden hair brushed Yuuri's cheek and he could feel warm breath fanning over his lips.
“Does it matter?”
His heart seemed to skip not one but several beats at once. The other's voice had dropped several pitches, was smooth as silk as he whispered in a tone that sent shivers all through his body.
The blond's intent was only all to clear as he pushed even closer, sliding a leg between Yuuri's. With the greatest of ease he was help captive by the other's gaze, as if hypnotised, incapable of any movement other than drawing short ragged breaths. All of a sudden his mouth seemed completely dry, tongue darting forward in a nervous attempt to wet his lips.
And suddenly his lips brushed Yuuri's, briefly at first, but when he gave no sign of protest quickly capturing his mouth in a moist, warm kiss. Almost involuntarily Yuuri felt his eyelids flutter and fall shut.
He had no clue of what do do. Whether to move or not. Or whether he was even capable of acting, when his body refused to cooperate as it was. He should be considering himself lucky he hadn't dropped dead of pure shock. And yet, shouldn't he be kissing back?
A triumphant growl vibrated in the back of the others throat - Yuuri felt it more than he heard it - when he moved a hand to his back. He was rewarded for his boldness, when slickened lips parted and a tongue traced the outlines of his mouth in silent invitation. The teenage king shuddered deeply at the unfamiliar sensation, but then the tongue was back, brushing his own and coaxing him forward to explore on his own.
He felt a gasp break from his lips, escape into the kiss they shared.
Yuuri's entire world was spinning. Drowning and rising, exploding and being reborn all at once. His head was light and all sounds oddly muffled as if he'd been drugged. There was this senation of soaring and plummeting that made something in his stomache tie itsself in uncomfortable knots, only to melt at the next swish of tongue against his.
The blond was incredibly adept at wiping his mind blissfully blank the simplest shift of balence and he didn't even object when the boy whose name he didn't even know pressed against him, pushing him to the cold stone floor until they were flush against each other. He finally released a heavily panting Yuuri from the kiss, attacking his neck with newfound dedication.
We should be in bed or something a nagging voice at the back of his mind insisted, and Yuuri gave a weak attempt a struggling free, but was immediately stopped dead when a hand cupped him through the material of his trousers. A wanton moan that Yuuri only dully recognised as his own echoed though the room and his hips bucked involuntarily upwards, deperate to increase the tantalizing friction.
Somewhere outside in the corridors there was the sound of hurried steps and urgent sounding voices but that hardly mattered when the blond stranger moved to straddle his hips. He just wanted more, more. Always more.
Suddenly the sound of splintering wood and jerked him back to reality. The enire door had been forced off its hinges and crashed to the floor to admit Conrad and a group of at least ten men.
“Wolfram.” Though the soldier's voice bore a note of absolute bewilderment Yuuri had never heard before, his sword continued to point streight at the blond's heart. “Back away from his Majesty.”
Yuuri's eyes flew wide open. He had not suspected a thing until he felt the cold blade of a dagger pressed harshly against his throat.