On Fire
Title: On Fire
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Rating|Genre: pg-13 | slash, romantic angst
Characters|Pairing: Wolfram von Bielefeld | Wolfram/Yuuri
Summary: Yuuri has no idea how much it hurts when he goes back to Earth, has he? He also has no idea how much it hurts to love him.
Word count: 1 242
Spoilers|Warnings: No | Masturbation
Notes: Another fic inspired by Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain”. Written for mmom.
No matter what Yuuri might think of him - possessive, jealous, demanding, annoying - Wolfram did respect his fiancé in many ways. He understood Yuuri’s feelings better than what some people thought.
For one thing, he never tried to touch Yuuri like that. He also never even touched himself in Yuuri’s bed, or anywhere else for that matter, when Yuuri was in the castle.
When Yuuri went back to Earth sometimes, however, well, that made things different.
Wolfram had to sleep alone, and he never knew for how long. Sometimes, Yuuri was gone so long. Yuuri was so far, far away and sometimes, Wolfram just couldn’t help it.
He imagined that one day things were going to be different, or perhaps they already were different. Perhaps Yuuri already wanted him in secret but were too shy and stupid to say it, to act like it.
Wolfram imagined that one day, it would be alright to take Yuuri in his arms and kiss him full on the lips and Yuuri would kiss him back, and he wouldn’t shy away or push Wolfram’s hands away, no, he would return all the warm affection, the passion, and they would make love.
While that dream grew stronger within him, Wolfram’s hands traveled along his own body, and he grew harder with want and need.
But before he could even get close to the edge of release and ecstasy, there was always a corner of his mind that threw a bucket of cold water over him. He knew how Yuuri would look at him. If Yuuri knew that he was in Wolfram’s thoughts while he masturbated, he would not only be embarrassed but he would be horrified and utterly disgusted.
Wolfram was hot with shame, and with anger. He shouldn’t have to be ashamed that he loved and needed somebody so much that it made his body long for their touch. Wasn’t that something perfectly normal? When you love somebody, you want to be as close as you can get, and if you can’ get close, well, then you dream…
Yes, even in his absence, Yuuri seemed to be there with his big, black eyes that sometimes seemed to beg Wolfram to just act like a normal good guy friend for once.
It made Wolfram furious sometimes. He could touch himself as much as he wanted and Yuuri had nothing to do with what went on inside his head!
Except that Yuuri had everything to do with it. Even if Wolfram tried to picture someone else in his mind, just some faceless dude to indulge him in his fantasies, it didn’t work out. Even if he moved his hand furiously and tried to think only about the pleasures of the flesh, it was nothing. It was unsatisfactory. It was pointless and stupid and it just made his heart hurt more.
So he stopped trying. It doesn’t matter, he tried to tell himself. Even if he won’t ever touch me like this, even if I can never pleasure myself again, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, as long as he comes back to this world soon. Wolfram rolled over and tried to find sleep.
Except if it rained. If it rained, Wolfram went outside instead.
He grunted at the guards who wondered if he needed them for anything, but all it took was a small gesture of his hand and they stayed where they were; silent, immobile, watchful, making sure that no one was following him.
He went outside the high walls that surrounded the castle and ran for a moment through the night while the rain was pouring down on him, soaking his body, cooling it.
Rain was Yuuri’s main natural element.
Wolfram, on the other hand, could make the fire obey him. He would never forget that duel when Yuuri had seen it for the first time. Fire and water isn’t usually a good match, Wolfram thought. Or is it the other way around? Opposites attract, isn’t that what people say?
But people say so much. They don’t stop to think about it half the time.
In the middle of the night, in the middle of the rain, Wolfram didn’t give a damn about people and what they said. He only felt that burning pain deep inside of him. As a soldier, he could easily endure a little bit of pain every now and then but nothing in his training had prepared him for a pain that came from within.
He didn’t know how to deal with it.
And in the meantime, what was Yuuri doing, in that other world he always returned to? The world where he played baseball, the world where his mother made that food she called curry, the world where his older brother, too, was a Maou.
No pain there, in that other world.
Didn’t Yuuri ever touch himself? If he did, who was he thinking about? Wolfram tried to shake that question off him. Maybe Yuuri never did it at all, which, perhaps, would be worse? Sometimes, Yuuri looked at Wolfram as if he was afraid of what he might do. As if Wolfram would ever force him! If Yuuri believed that, then he really was a stupid wimp.
Small sparks of fire were coming from Wolfram’s hands, he didn’t say the words to summon it, he just let the power slip through him almost lazily, carelessly.
Then he focused, just a little, and made a spark of fire hit the heavy, falling raindrops.
There was a whizzing sound when the water and the fire collided; they were natural enemies, and because Wolfram didn’t use the full force of his power, the natural, non-magical water was stronger than his meek little flames and put them out easily. Too easily.
Wolfram aimed harder. He wanted to burn the rain, set it on fire, and prove that he was stronger.
Stronger than what? Than whom?
So, high up in the sky, there were a handful of small, burning waterdrops that fell down. Wolfram looked up at them and when they fell, he didn’t move, he didn’t dodge, he just stood there. He reached out his hands and let the rain fall down on him.
The water, he imagined, complained and cried for Yuuri.
The moment the fire hit his face and his body, it turned back to water, but a fraction of a second too late, it seemed, because it was still hot. It wasn’t exactly pleasant. But the pain came from the outside; it hit only his body, it drew his thoughts out of his head and made him focus on what it felt like when the fiery water hit his skin.
If Yuuri truly loved me, he thought, he, too, would be hot like burning rain…
But Yuuri was not there. And when he came back, if he came back - secretly, Wolfram always felt that nagging suspicion - then he would hug Wolfram like one hugs a good friend, a good brother.
When Wolfram talked of love, Yuuri’s eyes would be as indifferent as the rain and Wolfram knew that he did not posses a magic strong enough to set them on fire, to make Yuuri burn with love for him.
After a short while, Wolfram stopped playing with the elements, and instead, he let his tears fall.
He didn’t need to set them on fire. They were already hot, and they were the only form of physical release he sometimes gave in fully to.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Rating|Genre: pg-13 | slash, romantic angst
Characters|Pairing: Wolfram von Bielefeld | Wolfram/Yuuri
Summary: Yuuri has no idea how much it hurts when he goes back to Earth, has he? He also has no idea how much it hurts to love him.
Word count: 1 242
Spoilers|Warnings: No | Masturbation
Notes: Another fic inspired by Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain”. Written for mmom.
No matter what Yuuri might think of him - possessive, jealous, demanding, annoying - Wolfram did respect his fiancé in many ways. He understood Yuuri’s feelings better than what some people thought.
For one thing, he never tried to touch Yuuri like that. He also never even touched himself in Yuuri’s bed, or anywhere else for that matter, when Yuuri was in the castle.
When Yuuri went back to Earth sometimes, however, well, that made things different.
Wolfram had to sleep alone, and he never knew for how long. Sometimes, Yuuri was gone so long. Yuuri was so far, far away and sometimes, Wolfram just couldn’t help it.
He imagined that one day things were going to be different, or perhaps they already were different. Perhaps Yuuri already wanted him in secret but were too shy and stupid to say it, to act like it.
Wolfram imagined that one day, it would be alright to take Yuuri in his arms and kiss him full on the lips and Yuuri would kiss him back, and he wouldn’t shy away or push Wolfram’s hands away, no, he would return all the warm affection, the passion, and they would make love.
While that dream grew stronger within him, Wolfram’s hands traveled along his own body, and he grew harder with want and need.
But before he could even get close to the edge of release and ecstasy, there was always a corner of his mind that threw a bucket of cold water over him. He knew how Yuuri would look at him. If Yuuri knew that he was in Wolfram’s thoughts while he masturbated, he would not only be embarrassed but he would be horrified and utterly disgusted.
Wolfram was hot with shame, and with anger. He shouldn’t have to be ashamed that he loved and needed somebody so much that it made his body long for their touch. Wasn’t that something perfectly normal? When you love somebody, you want to be as close as you can get, and if you can’ get close, well, then you dream…
Yes, even in his absence, Yuuri seemed to be there with his big, black eyes that sometimes seemed to beg Wolfram to just act like a normal good guy friend for once.
It made Wolfram furious sometimes. He could touch himself as much as he wanted and Yuuri had nothing to do with what went on inside his head!
Except that Yuuri had everything to do with it. Even if Wolfram tried to picture someone else in his mind, just some faceless dude to indulge him in his fantasies, it didn’t work out. Even if he moved his hand furiously and tried to think only about the pleasures of the flesh, it was nothing. It was unsatisfactory. It was pointless and stupid and it just made his heart hurt more.
So he stopped trying. It doesn’t matter, he tried to tell himself. Even if he won’t ever touch me like this, even if I can never pleasure myself again, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, as long as he comes back to this world soon. Wolfram rolled over and tried to find sleep.
Except if it rained. If it rained, Wolfram went outside instead.
He grunted at the guards who wondered if he needed them for anything, but all it took was a small gesture of his hand and they stayed where they were; silent, immobile, watchful, making sure that no one was following him.
He went outside the high walls that surrounded the castle and ran for a moment through the night while the rain was pouring down on him, soaking his body, cooling it.
Rain was Yuuri’s main natural element.
Wolfram, on the other hand, could make the fire obey him. He would never forget that duel when Yuuri had seen it for the first time. Fire and water isn’t usually a good match, Wolfram thought. Or is it the other way around? Opposites attract, isn’t that what people say?
But people say so much. They don’t stop to think about it half the time.
In the middle of the night, in the middle of the rain, Wolfram didn’t give a damn about people and what they said. He only felt that burning pain deep inside of him. As a soldier, he could easily endure a little bit of pain every now and then but nothing in his training had prepared him for a pain that came from within.
He didn’t know how to deal with it.
And in the meantime, what was Yuuri doing, in that other world he always returned to? The world where he played baseball, the world where his mother made that food she called curry, the world where his older brother, too, was a Maou.
No pain there, in that other world.
Didn’t Yuuri ever touch himself? If he did, who was he thinking about? Wolfram tried to shake that question off him. Maybe Yuuri never did it at all, which, perhaps, would be worse? Sometimes, Yuuri looked at Wolfram as if he was afraid of what he might do. As if Wolfram would ever force him! If Yuuri believed that, then he really was a stupid wimp.
Small sparks of fire were coming from Wolfram’s hands, he didn’t say the words to summon it, he just let the power slip through him almost lazily, carelessly.
Then he focused, just a little, and made a spark of fire hit the heavy, falling raindrops.
There was a whizzing sound when the water and the fire collided; they were natural enemies, and because Wolfram didn’t use the full force of his power, the natural, non-magical water was stronger than his meek little flames and put them out easily. Too easily.
Wolfram aimed harder. He wanted to burn the rain, set it on fire, and prove that he was stronger.
Stronger than what? Than whom?
So, high up in the sky, there were a handful of small, burning waterdrops that fell down. Wolfram looked up at them and when they fell, he didn’t move, he didn’t dodge, he just stood there. He reached out his hands and let the rain fall down on him.
The water, he imagined, complained and cried for Yuuri.
The moment the fire hit his face and his body, it turned back to water, but a fraction of a second too late, it seemed, because it was still hot. It wasn’t exactly pleasant. But the pain came from the outside; it hit only his body, it drew his thoughts out of his head and made him focus on what it felt like when the fiery water hit his skin.
If Yuuri truly loved me, he thought, he, too, would be hot like burning rain…
But Yuuri was not there. And when he came back, if he came back - secretly, Wolfram always felt that nagging suspicion - then he would hug Wolfram like one hugs a good friend, a good brother.
When Wolfram talked of love, Yuuri’s eyes would be as indifferent as the rain and Wolfram knew that he did not posses a magic strong enough to set them on fire, to make Yuuri burn with love for him.
After a short while, Wolfram stopped playing with the elements, and instead, he let his tears fall.
He didn’t need to set them on fire. They were already hot, and they were the only form of physical release he sometimes gave in fully to.