For a moment, he doesn't know where he is or how he got there, but then he pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks around, feeling oddly bewildered. He's home. In his bed. In he slacks and socks and shirtsleeves.
. . . But the room looks and feels . . . off. It takes him a moment to place the oddity. Yozak. There is no hint of Yozak about. No clothes. No knickknacks shifted just a liiiittle bit out of position. No sword laying next to his own on the trunk at the foot of his bed. No linger scent of perfume in the air or whiff of tobacco in his sheets
( ... )
Yuuri pushes the door open, smiling sheepishly as his eyes light up. “There you are. I was hoping you’d be... You’ve been sleeping for a long time, Conrad. I was getting worried.* He approaches where Conrad is sitting up in bed, happy as a little eager puppy. “You see? I keep telling you that you work to hard. You need to take it easier. Wolfram is going to get Gwendal’s wrinkles from all that frowning he does...but you’re going to get them from stress.”
He nods his conviction and looks around the room for a moment before drawing his gaze back to Conrad. “Did you have a good dream then? To be sleeping for so long....I would hope it was a good dream.”
The soldier pushes himself all the way up and stands with a smile, blushing slightly. "Ahhh! Forgive me, Heika. I did not mean to sleep so long . . ." How long had he been asleep anyway? It felt like months.
Conrad resists the urge to smooth his shirt self consciously. "I can't quite remember my dreams, I'm afraid. But I think baseball was involved somewhere."
He brushes a few errant strands of hair from his eyes and looks around, feeling a touch disorganized. "Did you need something, Heika?"
“Dreaming about baseball is usually a good thing,” he says happily. “Unless, of course, you’re losing the game or something in them. But,” his look turns serious and he puts his hands on his hips. “How many times do I have to say it, Conrad?” His lips twitch and he gives up on his attempted stern appearance. “Call me Yuuri.”
“Come,” he drops his arms and steps closer, rising up on his tiptoes so that while the height difference is not eliminated, he can see Conrad’s eyes better in the moonlight. “Say it for me. Yuuri. Yuuuuuriiiii. You picked it, so you should be allowed to use it, right? Yuuri. Yuuri. YuuriYuuriYuuriYuu-ack!*
Bouncing around on his feet, his shoes slip and he waves his arms around wildly, trying to catch his balance. “Conrad!” he yelps.
Even a little pressure on top of him makes him gasp and his hands fly out to grip the soft moonlit material of Conrad’s shirt, his arms wrapping around his shoulders when Conrad leans forward to kiss whatever part he can reach. The touch that slips between his legs makes him arch his back and twist, overwhelmed and yet not getting enough as heat floods him from rosy cheeks to his toes.
Conrad sounds so different, his voice deepened and darkened by something that sends delicious shivers down Yuuri’s back. The soldier’s hands, rough and calloused from over a century of hard training, are a wonderful contrast to the man’s soft lips on his skin and he soaks in the attention like a man parched.
Even Conrad’s words, low and purred are a part of this slow seduction and the teasingly dirty talk sends such images into his head that make him groan. Conrad’s eyes have turned so dark that he can almost see himself disappearing into Conrad’s mouth in their reflection. His heart quickens in his chest like a trapped bird and he swallows
( ... )
Conrad chuckles with pure amusement at the innocent question and sits up for moment. He saw the annoyed flicker in Yuuri’s eyes at the sight of his shirt. The brunet tugs the offending garment over his head and tosses it carelessly to the floor. He can feel the boy’s eyes on him and gently brushes Yuuri’s cheek, eyes devouring the sight of the fey-like Maou. “Yuuri . . .”
I love you. I love you so much it’s killing me. You’re killing me, Yuuri.
His other hand cradles Yuuri’s other cheek and he bends and kisses the earth-born half breed. Yuuri tastes so much better than he’d ever imagined . . . Feels so much better . . . He could drink him in forever and never be satisfied. It makes him want to weep.
I love you.He breaks off the kiss and drops down to lick Yuuri’s collarbone, considering the boy’s inquiry as his right hand slips back down along Yuuri’s side and then between their bodies to find that gradually hardening velvet heat again. His fingers dance teasingly over the small sac
( ... )
Conrad’s skin revealed to him is hardly flawless, and somehow that makes it all the more beautiful. Yuuri was to touch and memorize each little mark and scar, to know the story behind them, and so know the man on who they resided. From the tiny little scrapes to the discolored brand around his arm to the wicked looking scar on his right side and stomach that makes Yuuri’s heart jump frightfully to see it.
With his heart taking off without him as Conrad starts touching him again, Yuuri soaks in the other half human’s touch and words like a highly aroused sponge, sighing and making soft, pleased noises of encouragement.
Think of . . . slightly thinned, slightly bitter, salty tapioca pudding.Personally, Yuuri thinks that it sounds positively NASTY. But if Conrad wants to...the last thing he’s going to do is fight with the man who is doing such wonderfully torturous things to his body. He’s squirming, shifting, moving with the warm wet caresses on his skin, trying to keep their bodies as close as possible. At some point he realizes
( ... )
The feel of Yuuri's body rippling and tensing around him is entirely too much and Conrad's climax falls on him like a lightening bolt, stealing the soldier of his vision, breath, and awareness.
A little death . . .He understands that now
( ... )
Yuuri groans a little as Conrad moves slowly from his body, retreating inch by inch from between thighs that glisten with the older half demon’s seed. He’s still shaking, but Conrad draws him into his arms, and he sighs quietly. It’s nice and peaceful, and the room with quiet with their breathing
( ... )
Conrad flinches and feels as though he's been struck. The reaction should not have surprised him, but it still hurt. A lot. The brunet pushes himself up to a sitting position and stares after his partner with a stricken expression.
"Why do you have to hide it?" he whispers, knowing the answer even as he asks. "Am I something to be ashamed of? Something to be hidden? Yuuri . . . I love you."
Doesn't he understand what that means to Conrad? How dearly every repetition of those unhappy words costs him?
“I know that,” Yuuri says with a sigh, lowering the glass and looking back at the other half demon. “Do you think I would have come here tonight if I didn’t? I care about you, but that’s not the point Conrad.”
He lowers his hand from the bruise on this throat and looks at him. “Does this change things? Does seeing this on me make any difference to you? Because it WILL make a difference to your family. And I don’t want to lose you, Conrad. Do you think they won’t see it? Do you believe Gwendal and Wolfram will believe a story about spider bite?”
It traps him--binding his muscles and choking him with piss and shit and hunger and thirst and the fetid scent of his own semen--and Conrad simply takes shallow, polluted breaths.
Darkness within. Darkness without.
He has gone numb to the point where the numbness itself is pain and his hand throbs in dull agony where he broke it beating in the lid of the box.
Alone.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
Can't go home. Can't stay here.
Tears slip silently down Conrad's cheeks, but he cannot feel them.
"But no marks . . . Conrad, promise me, no marks."
No . . . No marks.
Conrad closes his eyes and allows himself to merge with the darkness.
Yes . . . I will vanish like a wisp of smoke. This time . . . This time I won't leave a trace.
Comments 40
For a moment, he doesn't know where he is or how he got there, but then he pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks around, feeling oddly bewildered. He's home. In his bed. In he slacks and socks and shirtsleeves.
. . . But the room looks and feels . . . off. It takes him a moment to place the oddity. Yozak. There is no hint of Yozak about. No clothes. No knickknacks shifted just a liiiittle bit out of position. No sword laying next to his own on the trunk at the foot of his bed. No linger scent of perfume in the air or whiff of tobacco in his sheets ( ... )
Reply
Yuuri pushes the door open, smiling sheepishly as his eyes light up. “There you are. I was hoping you’d be... You’ve been sleeping for a long time, Conrad. I was getting worried.* He approaches where Conrad is sitting up in bed, happy as a little eager puppy. “You see? I keep telling you that you work to hard. You need to take it easier. Wolfram is going to get Gwendal’s wrinkles from all that frowning he does...but you’re going to get them from stress.”
He nods his conviction and looks around the room for a moment before drawing his gaze back to Conrad. “Did you have a good dream then? To be sleeping for so long....I would hope it was a good dream.”
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Home meant safety. Warmth. Love.
Yuuri.
The soldier pushes himself all the way up and stands with a smile, blushing slightly. "Ahhh! Forgive me, Heika. I did not mean to sleep so long . . ." How long had he been asleep anyway? It felt like months.
Conrad resists the urge to smooth his shirt self consciously. "I can't quite remember my dreams, I'm afraid. But I think baseball was involved somewhere."
He brushes a few errant strands of hair from his eyes and looks around, feeling a touch disorganized. "Did you need something, Heika?"
Reply
“Come,” he drops his arms and steps closer, rising up on his tiptoes so that while the height difference is not eliminated, he can see Conrad’s eyes better in the moonlight. “Say it for me. Yuuri. Yuuuuuriiiii. You picked it, so you should be allowed to use it, right? Yuuri. Yuuri. YuuriYuuriYuuriYuu-ack!*
Bouncing around on his feet, his shoes slip and he waves his arms around wildly, trying to catch his balance. “Conrad!” he yelps.
Reply
Reply
Conrad sounds so different, his voice deepened and darkened by something that sends delicious shivers down Yuuri’s back. The soldier’s hands, rough and calloused from over a century of hard training, are a wonderful contrast to the man’s soft lips on his skin and he soaks in the attention like a man parched.
Even Conrad’s words, low and purred are a part of this slow seduction and the teasingly dirty talk sends such images into his head that make him groan. Conrad’s eyes have turned so dark that he can almost see himself disappearing into Conrad’s mouth in their reflection. His heart quickens in his chest like a trapped bird and he swallows ( ... )
Reply
I love you. I love you so much it’s killing me. You’re killing me, Yuuri.
His other hand cradles Yuuri’s other cheek and he bends and kisses the earth-born half breed. Yuuri tastes so much better than he’d ever imagined . . . Feels so much better . . . He could drink him in forever and never be satisfied. It makes him want to weep.
I love you.He breaks off the kiss and drops down to lick Yuuri’s collarbone, considering the boy’s inquiry as his right hand slips back down along Yuuri’s side and then between their bodies to find that gradually hardening velvet heat again. His fingers dance teasingly over the small sac ( ... )
Reply
With his heart taking off without him as Conrad starts touching him again, Yuuri soaks in the other half human’s touch and words like a highly aroused sponge, sighing and making soft, pleased noises of encouragement.
Think of . . . slightly thinned, slightly bitter, salty tapioca pudding.Personally, Yuuri thinks that it sounds positively NASTY. But if Conrad wants to...the last thing he’s going to do is fight with the man who is doing such wonderfully torturous things to his body. He’s squirming, shifting, moving with the warm wet caresses on his skin, trying to keep their bodies as close as possible. At some point he realizes ( ... )
Reply
A little death . . .He understands that now ( ... )
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Reply
"Why do you have to hide it?" he whispers, knowing the answer even as he asks. "Am I something to be ashamed of? Something to be hidden? Yuuri . . . I love you."
Doesn't he understand what that means to Conrad? How dearly every repetition of those unhappy words costs him?
Reply
He lowers his hand from the bruise on this throat and looks at him. “Does this change things? Does seeing this on me make any difference to you? Because it WILL make a difference to your family. And I don’t want to lose you, Conrad. Do you think they won’t see it? Do you believe Gwendal and Wolfram will believe a story about spider bite?”
Reply
Darkness everywhere.
Darkness within. Darkness without.
Darkness . . .
It traps him--binding his muscles and choking him with piss and shit and hunger and thirst and the fetid scent of his own semen--and Conrad simply takes shallow, polluted breaths.
Darkness within. Darkness without.
He has gone numb to the point where the numbness itself is pain and his hand throbs in dull agony where he broke it beating in the lid of the box.
Alone.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
Can't go home. Can't stay here.
Tears slip silently down Conrad's cheeks, but he cannot feel them.
"But no marks . . . Conrad, promise me, no marks."
No . . . No marks.
Conrad closes his eyes and allows himself to merge with the darkness.
Yes . . . I will vanish like a wisp of smoke. This time . . . This time I won't leave a trace.
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