[Fic] [Round 29] Awake, NC-17

[melusine474]

Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Pairings: Shinou/Wolfram, Yuuri/Wolfram, Shinou/Murata
Word Count: 9096
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex, voyeurism
Theme/Prompt: Wolfram x ?

A/N: I hope this fits the prompt. My defense is that the plot is driven by/revolves around the Wolfram x Shinou...



Wolfram must have been asleep because he was waking up-- wave after wave of surging heat, light, pleasure-- breathing-- breathing--

He felt his heart begin to beat (begin?) and the blood in his veins warm and begin to flow-- no, rush-- through his body and he was breathing-- breathing--

He opened his eyes but saw nothing but light.

Slowly, slowly, the energy rushing into and through him, filling every one of his senses, began to ease and he became aware of things outside his own body. Someone else. Someone else's hands, powerful, powerful, glowing with heat, holding him everywhere, a mouth over his, breathing into him, pouring into him, kissing him, filling him...

He clung to that warmth and light, tried to pull it closer-- more--

The mouth broke away. The touch vanished.

Wolfram sat up, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he remembered how to think.

He was in the temple, in a room he hadn't seen in a long time and didn't want to see. And the Original King was standing in front of him, smiling mildly.

Wolfram didn't want to ask what happened. He didn't want to know why he was in this room or why he'd been lying down and he definitely didn't want to look and see what exactly it was he was lying down in.

But he didn't need to ask, because before he said anything, Shinou spoke.

"Why, Sir Belefield, I had no idea you could be so cruel. You broke your poor king's little heart when you died, you know."

* * *

Murata watched Shibuya decline glass after glass of fine wine. They'd gotten him to take a sip at the funeral earlier that day, as befitted tradition, but it was as if he was afraid that if he had even one glass he would end up drinking just to forget... A valid fear for some but not, Murata felt, for Shibuya, who'd been tipsy perhaps twice in his life.

He hadn't cried, either.

"He said one time," Shibuya explained, "that if I died he wouldn't cry. So I'm not... I'm not going to. He wouldn't want me to be sad."

As if it were as simple as that.

And as if by not indulging himself in tears or alcohol, Shibuya was somehow being mature and responsible, or hiding the pain he felt.

Well, he'd never been good at hiding his emotions and he certainly wasn't now. His eyes, though dry, were dull and clouded. His every movement was heavy and slow, as if he had to force himself just to take each step. And at the moment Murata could almost see him try to curl into himself in his seat on the couch next to an equally devastated Sir Weller.

There was no possible way that a death at eighty-six could be easy on anyone, and there were certainly worse ways it could have happened, but this was cruel enough. This was.... ironic.

Ironic in that everyone had been frightened, quite understandably, by the arrow in Sir Belefield's side when he came home from patrol almost a week before. But the bleeding had been stopped, healing magic applied, and bed rest prescribed. Shibuya had been relieved from his initial panic as everyone assured him his fiancé would be fine.

Ironic, too, that Shibuya's visits to Sir Belefield in the infirmary seemed to have set something in motion that everyone had been expecting to see eventually. Shibuya had told Murata about this, and had said happily that maybe Wolfram getting hit with that arrow was really a good thing because otherwise they would never have had those long talks and he might never have realized--

But the infection was sudden. Gisela checked on Sir Belefield one night to find him burning with fever, and by morning he was gone.

And here was Shibuya, saying he wasn't going to be sad and looking, as he had every right to, like a lost child.

Murata had asked Shinou to bring Shibuya's family from the other world, because Shibuya himself certainly didn't have the strength for something like that and Murata thought he could use the comfort. But the Original King had shaken his head, smiling slightly, and claimed his energies were needed elsewhere.

Murata couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry.

He tried, too, to give whatever help he could, but it was as he feared-- He was like an outsider, an intruder, because he wasn't related to Sir Belefield, wasn't his fiancé or his daughter, hadn't even watched him grow up.

So he gave his condolences to Shibuya and to Her Majesty Cheri one more time and slipped away to return to the temple, as much as he didn't relish the idea of seeing his old king right now.

When he arrived, however, the light and voices that came from the inner chamber as he passed made him pause, sigh, and then, knowing he was playing into Shinou's hands, open the door.

Suddenly, everything made sense at once.

Wolfram von Belefield, whom Murata had seen just hours ago lying pale and definitely dead in his coffin, was quite flushed and naked and engaged in activities usually reserved for the living.

Usually. Because Shinou himself, who was if anything less alive than Sir Belefield, had certainly proven he could and would do such things-- was in fact proving it right now--

"I should have guessed it," said Murata.

The Original King didn't stop what he was doing. "Yes," he said as he thrust again into the no-longer-dead boy writhing beneath him. "You should have. Why didn't you?"

To be honest, Murata hadn't actually known that Shinou could bring back the dead. He wasn't at all surprised, however, especially since the deceased king seemed to be getting stronger as time passed.

"I suppose I thought you had enough toys," Murata said. "Tell me, did you resurrect Sir Belefield for the sole purpose of fucking him? Or are you going to let Shibuya play with him, too?"

Shinou's smirk was infuriating. He stilled his hips, making Belefield whine and buck, and looked down at the boy. "I don't know; what do you think, Wolfram? Do you want to go back to your Yuuri?"

Belefield gasped at the sound of the name, eyes flying wide and lips fumbling to repeat it-- "Yuuri"-- almost a groan-- before he came.

Murata looked away, feeling, he expected, exactly how Shinou intended him to feel. But he could hear the wet sound of flesh slamming against flesh pick up again, and Wolfram's pleasured gasps continued...

But now that Belefield had climaxed, it became apparent that something else was going on, something Murata would have noticed earlier if he hadn't been distracted by rage. He looked back at the two golden bodies moving against each other in the center of the room. Both of them always seemed to glow, but this time Murata knew it wasn't an illusion created by shining hair or fair skin-- it was raw power, and Shinou was pouring it out and Belefield was drinking it in. No wonder Sir Belefield sounded like he was on the brink of orgasm again already. Murata watched him shudder with ecstasy as the Original King filled him with power and life just as he filled him with his tongue and his cock.

Shinou never gave any sign before he came, and now was no exception. He simply drove into Belefield with all his strength, made a guttural, animal sound, and shook as Wolfram cried out wordlessly and came himself.

The ex-king all but collapsed-- some of his usual aura of power had diminished and he looked more exhausted than Murata had seen him in a very long time. Sir Belefield, by contrast, sat up almost immediately, eyes bright and pupils wide, muscles tense and alert, the picture of health and youth and energy, and then some.

He leapt to his feet and turned to Murata. He was still breathing heavily, but he licked his lips and said, "I'm going to need my clothes--" He took a few steps forward, then stopped. "No-- Can't wear death clothes--"

Murata sighed. It wasn't like he could undo this. He wasn't going to kill Wolfram. So he pointedly ignored the man still sitting on the floor, and said, "I'll get you a change of clothes." His first instinct was to insist that Sir Belefield spend the night at the temple and return to the castle in the morning after he'd calmed down and Murata had figured some things out, but the thought of Yuuri spending one more night alone and grieving than he had to was intolerable. "I'll get us some horses as well."

Sir Belefield grinned, taking Murata by surprise, but shook his head. "I don't need a horse."

"Yes, you do," said Murata firmly. "I have to keep an eye on you and I have no desire to go on foot all the way back to the castle."

Belefield looked away and back again. "And why do I have to do what you say?"

"Because I outrank you considerably."

"Mmm. But I'm dead."

Murata stepped closer. "Listen to me. If you go back to your life then you're choosing to live it. If you want to be dead, stay here and do whatever you want and I'll make sure Shibuya doesn't know."

Sir Belefield's eyes slid over to Shinou. "Can I really go back?" he said, causing Murata to inwardly breathe a small sigh of relief. Sir Belefield was indeed himself, if slightly... charged.

Shinou raised an elegant eyebrow. "You are free to do as you like, Wolfram von Belefield."

Sir Belefield gazed at him for another moment, then said simply, "Thank you."

Shinou smirked.

* * *

Yuuri wanted to sleep. He wanted so badly to escape this reality where Wolfram suddenly wasn't. But, just as on the previous few nights since Wolfram's death, the more he thought about how much he wanted to be unconscious, the farther away sleep became. He even envied Greta, who had worn herself out crying and was now sleeping heavily in his arms. And he knew that tomorrow he would wake up and still feel this way and Wolfram would still be gone gone gone and he would never come back Yuuri would never see him again never never touch him never talk to him--

He forced himself to stop. Breathe. He couldn't think like that. It was all true, but if he thought about it he would go insane. One day at a time, as they said. Don't think about the rest of his life stretching before him without Wolfram in it...

There was a knock at the door. "Shibuya," came Murata's voice. "It's important."

Greta was already stirring and opening her eyes, so Yuuri sat up and called out, "Alright, come in," as he fumbled to light the lamp at the bedside.

But then the door opened and suddenly all the candles in the room flared to life. Yuuri looked up.

He froze.

The... whatever... whoever it was... started towards him, but Murata intervened.

"Wait," he said warningly, stepping in the way. Then he turned to Yuuri. "Shibuya... Greta," he added, catching sight of her, and Yuuri became aware that she was gripping his arm painfully tight. It was nice-- something real.

Murata opened his mouth to continue, but the thing with Wolfram's face cut him off. "Shinou brought me back to life," it said breathlessly.

Silence stretched, and the smile that was so cruelly like Wolfram's began to fade.

"Why?" said Yuuri finally. It made no sense.

"What?" That was Wolfram's scream, too. "Am I so worthless--"

"Calm down!" Murata interjected, with a firm hand on its shoulder. "He's right to question. Shibuya, I believe this was something of a favor to you. Although I'm sure it's in the best interest of the country as well if you aren't... preoccupied with grief. I assure you, this is your Wolfram von Belefield, and he is very much alive." He was looking into Yuuri's eyes. "Trust me."

Yuuri stood, and Greta gave up her hold reluctantly. He stepped deliberately up to the beautiful apparition. He could hear heightened breathing, he could smell Wolfram's scent, he reached out and he could feel a heart beating rapidly...

"The last time I saw you," came Wolfram's soft whisper, "you told me you were in love with me." Warm, damp breath right up against his ear. "I made you say it three times. Then, when I tried to kiss you, I nearly opened up my wound again and Gisela threw you out."

Yuuri started to cry.

"Yuuri!" Greta-- she was crying, too-- "Yuuri, is it really him? Yuuri, is it Wolfram?"

And it really wasn't until he said, "Yes," that he fully believed it himself.

* * *

Shibuya was sobbing into Sir Belefield's shoulder, and the princess had her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and was saying, over and over again through her tears, "Don't die, Wolfram, don't die, don't die..."

Murata wanted to leave them alone, to let them start to heal their family in peace, but the more he watched Belefield grinning and holding Shibuya and stroking Greta's hair and murmuring words of comfort, the more he was convinced that what he needed to say to Shibuya couldn't wait for the morning.

Interestingly, Shibuya seemed to know it, too. Because when he finally pulled himself away from his resurrected fiancé and wiped his eyes, he looked over at Murata with some trepidation. And when Murata said, "Shibuya, I should talk to you..." he nodded and followed obediently to the corner of the room, just out of earshot of the other two.

"There's a catch, right?" Shibuya said dully. "Someone else had to die, or he lost his soul or something--"

Murata shook his head. "He's there, Shibuya. It's him. I'm just not sure it's only him."

Shibuya's eyes widened in alarm. "What do you mean?"

"Shinou brought Sir Belefield back with his own power. It will be even easier for him to possess Wolfram now, or even partially control him. Sir Belefield might be aware of it, and he might not. But you can watch for it, and... tell me if you notice anything."

Shibuya nodded, looking a little scared and very tired. "I will."

"Good." Murata smiled. "Don't worry too much, Shibuya; just pay attention. Now," he nodded towards the bed, where Sir Belefield was sitting with Greta, stroking her hair soothingly, "get some real sleep." Then, as an after thought, he added, "He'll still be here in the morning."

Shibuya smiled back. "Tell Shinou I said 'thank you'."

Murata widened his smile to keep it from turning bitter. "Of course."

* * *

Yuuri woke up with Wolfram beside him, warm and breathing. It took him a moment to remember why that was so miraculous.

"I see you, Yuuri!" Wolfram's excited whisper. "You're awake!"

Yuuri opened his eyes and blinked at his fiancé. "How come you're up before me?"

"Never went to sleep," said Wolfram, grinning. "I think I've had a little too much 'rest' the past few days."

"Oh."

"Yuuri?"

"Yeah?"

"Say it again."

Yuuri smiled. "I love you." And he loved the way Wolfram's face lit up even further, and he loved being here next to him, he loved having the bed full with all three of them, and he loved that they were going to get to pick up where they left off. Soon they would have their first kiss-- Yuuri's first kiss ever-- and just the thought made him feel warm all over...

But it could wait, at least until Greta had woken and left to dress in her own room. For now, Yuuri shifted a little closer until he could nuzzle Wolfram's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said.

Wolfram laughed softly. "Me, too."

* * *

"You still aren't pleased, my sage?" Shinou said with mock sigh. "You weren't happy when your competition was removed and you aren't happy now that he's back."

Murata whirled around. "I know you killed him," he said evenly. "And don't pretend you did it for me. You killed him so that you could resurrect him and control him."

"It's only fair," replied the Original King. "Your king possesses something of mine--" He reached out and touched Murata's cheek. "-- So I took something of his."

"He hardly owns me," Murata seethed. "I'm doing what I agreed to thousands of years ago. You asked me to do this, to serve him."

"Serve him, Sage, not fall in love with him."

Murata closed his eyes. He had seen this coming. He should have realized the consequences would not affect himself alone.

Because, yes, it was almost impossible to know Yuuri and not fall in love with him at least a little, and Murata had not escaped completely unaffected... And he was a fool if he'd ever thought he could hide it from Shinou.

* * *

"It's about time for Greta to wake up now, right?" Wolfram whispered.

Yuuri chuckled. Wolfram must have been bored lying there awake all night, and now their daughter was still latched securely onto his right arm, meaning he could hardly move. And he was so bursting with energy like a hyper-active child, so excited about being alive... It was wonderful.

"I think we can wake her," Yuuri answered.

Wolfram grinned and moved to sit up. Greta squirmed as her grip on her father was disturbed.

"Greta," said Wolfram softly, stroking her hair. "It's morning! Time to wake up! And guess what? You don't even have to go to lessons today!"

She released him to rub her eyes and look up, then grinned just as widely as him.

Then Wolfram started tickling her.

Greta shrieked and giggled, rolling and almost falling off the bed before Wolfram caught her expertly and started tickling again, but this time she retaliated and Yuuri's ears were full of their laughter.

He must have forgotten what it felt like to be happy. It had only been a few days, but he had forgotten this feeling-- so good it was almost an ache-- and what it was like to find himself smiling without even trying to.

Wolfram and Greta collapsed side by side on the bed, still laughing in between gasping breaths.

After a few moments, Greta sat up again. "I'm going to go get dressed!" she announced, hopping off the bed. "And then we can have breakfast and then we can go out and play!" She turned around, suddenly anxious. "You're going to tell everyone else you're back, right?"

"Of course," said Yuuri. "But don't mention it to anyone yet, alright?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know that!"

Greta paused one more time before she left, to hug Wolfram again.

"I love you, Wolfram."

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you, too. Now, go on, and we'll see you in a little while."

She grinned again and headed out the door. Before she'd closed it all the way, however, she stopped and stuck her head back in the room. "Yuuri, I love you, too!"

Yuuri laughed. "I know, Greta. I love you, too."

One more smile, and then she shut the door behind her.

Wolfram turned to Yuuri. Crawled towards him on the bed. Took Yuuri's face in his hands.

His palms were warm on Yuuri's already-heated cheeks-- He was leaning in-- Yuuri could feel his breath against his mouth already-- Wolfram was going to kiss him. They were going to kiss.

But Wolfram stopped just centimeters from Yuuri's lips. He was too close to see his expression, but Yuuri had had enough of hesitating because people could die so quickly and so easily and even though this was huge he knew he wanted it-- needed it-- so he closed his eyes and moved that last little bit to touch his lips to Wolfram's.

Wolfram returned the pressure with a soft sound, then drew back.

Yuuri didn't want it to be over. He tried to chase the other boy's mouth, but Wolfram gently held him still with his hands at the sides of his face.

"Yuuri--" he said, and it sounded like he was going to say more, but whatever it was never came. Maybe he'd said Yuuri's name just to say it.

For a long moment, neither of them moved or spoke, though Yuuri's heart was hammering in his ears. He opened his eyes and found Wolfram watching him, looking almost afraid. Yuuri didn't know what he was supposed to do or say...

There was a knock on the door.

Wolfram released him and leapt all too quickly from the bed to open the door to the interruption. It turned out to be Murata, come to tell them that everyone who'd been at Wolfram's funeral yesterday would be gathered after breakfast to welcome him back (although, of course, they didn't know that yet).

Once Murata was gone, Wolfram turned back to Yuuri, but didn't come over to him. Instead, he said with a smile, "I guess we'd better get dressed, then."

Yuuri nodded. He was disappointed, but what could he say? They would be together later, anyways. So he set about getting dressed-- which was weird now, because everything had changed in the days before Wolfram's death, and now Yuuri had to be careful to turn away, face burning, and get the job done as quickly as possible.

He hadn't taken into account the mirror, however, and he accidentally looked up prematurely and saw Wolfram's bare back. And that was weird, too, because he had definitely seen Wolfram without his shirt, but that was before Yuuri had started having Thoughts and now...

Yuuri looked away. If he started staring he would be a pervert. Even though they'd said-- Well, Yuuri had said it, and Wolfram had tried to kiss him-- Nearly reopened the hole in his side from the arrow...

"Hey, Wolfram?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your wound?" He glanced back at the mirror and saw Wolfram turn around and shrug.

"It was healed." Now he was walking towards Yuuri, and Yuuri had no choice but to turn and face him because doing anything else would make things even weirder. "The same way the rest of me was healed," Wolfram went on. "There wouldn't be much point in bringing me back to life if I was just going to die again, would there?"

He was so close! Yuuri nodded. "That makes sense."

"I do have a scar," said Wolfram quietly. He took Yuuri's hand and guided it to his waist. "See? Same body. Same Wolfram."

Wolfram's skin was soft and warm, exactly how Yuuri would expect it to be, yet somehow touching it felt better than he could have thought... He wanted to touch more of Wolfram. He wanted things it had never occurred to him to want before.

Then Wolfram was touching him, too, but lightly, briefly, as he began to button Yuuri's shirt. They were standing so close, much closer than was necessary. Wolfram's fingers brushed against his stomach. Yuuri caught his breath. Looked up.

But Wolfram's expression... He was far away, gazing unfocused at his hands as they moved automatically.

Yuuri stepped back. "Don't," he said, and turned away quickly to hide the embarrassing effects of Wolfram's proximity.

His fiancé said nothing, but Yuuri heard him return to the task of dressing himself.

* * *

PART II

After a day of being hugged and cried upon by many and various friends and relatives, it was understandable that Wolfram collapse exhausted into bed that night and be off to sleep in minutes. But the next night was the same, and though he slept in that morning, he looked pale and tired throughout the day.

"Are you alright?" Yuuri asked him as they headed back to their room for the night.

Wolfram said nothing for a long time. Then, "All those people," he said, "came for my funeral. They never visited when I was alive, and now that I'm alive again, they're gone again."

Yuuri didn't know what to say. "Well," he tried, "that doesn't mean they don't care."

Wolfram shrugged. "It's just strange that I'm more popular dead than alive."

"That's not true!"

He shrugged again, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

The next day, it was noon before Wolfram got out of bed.

* * *

Murata realized he should have come earlier to check up on Sir Belefield-- he'd gone home to the temple the night after Shinou brought Belefield back, and hadn't been to the castle in the two days since. Still, it didn't seem that anything too serious was going on.

"I'm not surprised he's feeling down right now," he explained to Shibuya. "He had a pretty intense 'up' period after he came back. Something of a let-down is to be expected, really, after something like that."

Shibuya nodded, but still looked nervous. "But..." he said, "but that's not... the only thing."

Murata raised his eyebrows, because Shibuya was already starting to blush. "Yes?"

The king swallowed hard, then went on. "Um. Well, he... He... doesn't seem to like me as much as he used to and I don't understand because I don't know if I did something wrong or if he's changed his mind or if he never actually--" Mercifully, he cut himself off.

"Shibuya..." Murata had to look away. "I'm sure he's just not feeling his best. You have to expect that he might not want to... move forward... until he's fully dealt with the experience of, well, dying."

Shibuya nodded once more, his face still crimson.

So Murata took the chance to excuse himself and go in search of Sir Belefield.

It took a long time, but he eventually found the king's fiancé in a corner of the library, just sitting and looking out the window, his head resting wearily against one of the wings of his chair.

"Sir Belefield."

Belefield closed his eyes and sighed. "What do you want, Sage?"

"Just to see how you're doing."

"Did Yuuri send you?"

"No. But I have spoken to him." Murata sat down on the window seat.

The other boy opened his eyes just enough to glare. "Did he tell you I won't kiss him?"

"More or less." He paused. "Can you give me a reason, or do I need to be concerned?"

Belefield growled. "You know the reason." His face twisted. "You were there. You saw what I did to be alive."

"Ah." Murata hadn't actually been sure if Sir Belefield would remember the first hours of his new life. It would have been easier if he'd forgotten.

But easy was not what Shinou was after.

Murata silently cursed the dead king's name once again. This game was cruel, even for him. Or perhaps it only seemed worse than usual because this time Murata cared about the people being toyed with.

He'd been surprised, in fact, with how much it hurt when Sir Belefield died. Not because he wouldn't have expected to miss him, but because it was always surprising how acutely he still felt these things after thousands of years. He might have grown used to death and loss in previous lives, but no matter how hardened and jaded he became, with each new life each experience seemed new. He was always shocked at how the feelings of his first love, his first loss, his first child, were just as intense no matter how many times he lived them.

He looked up to find Sir Belefield glaring at him once again.

"Are you done?" he asked Murata.

Murata shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Sorry. I was just thinking..." He met Belefield's eyes. "I missed you, too."

Belefield snorted. "No, you didn't. You don't even like me."

There was something in his voice that worried Murata-- something close to despair. But he could think of nothing else he could do for this boy, considering he didn't seem to be even partially possessed. So he left Sir Belefield to his solitude and headed back to the temple.

* * *

On the fifth day after Wolfram's revival, Yuuri found him lying awake on their bed in the late afternoon. He'd obviously come back from a bath, as he was still in his robe, but his hair was nearly dry. He closed his eyes wearily as Yuuri approached. The circles there had been growing darker these past few days, for all that he'd been sleeping more and more, and as Yuuri got closer he could see that he looked paler than ever, and his lips were tinged blue.

Yuuri knelt down beside the bed, hardly daring to breathe for the worry-- no, fear-- that clenched in his gut. He repeated silently to himself all that Murata had said-- There was probably nothing wrong, Wolfram just needed more rest--

He reached out to take Wolfram's hand. He didn't trust himself to speak-- He was so scared--

"Yuuri." Wolfram opened his eyes to look at him. He was scared, too, but not in the way Yuuri was accustomed to seeing, when Wolfram was afraid for him. This was different. He looked... lost. "I'm dying," he said. "Again. I can feel it. I'm sorry."

Yuuri's head spun and he stood up. "No," he said. "No, you can't do this to me."

Wolfram's eyes slid away. "I don't want to. I can't stop it." He took a rattling, labored breath. "It's just... leaving. I guess it was inevitable." Another breath. "I'm supposed to be dead, Yuuri. I am dead. I can't keep what doesn't belong to me. This... doesn't belong to me. I'm supposed to..." Another breath. "... not exist."

"NO!" Yuuri screamed. If he said it loud enough, maybe he could make this go away-- maybe he could get Wolfram to listen-- Wolfram-- Wolfram--

Tears on Wolfram's cheeks-- but Yuuri didn't know whose they were because now he had seized the front of Wolfram's robe, clutching tightly-- clinging-- "NO!" he screamed again, just as loudly.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough!" Yuuri yelled. "You can't leave me! You CAN'T! Wolfram-- I tried to do what you wanted-- I didn't cry-- I pretended I never wanted-- never wanted to go with you-- Oh god Wolfram how am I supposed to-- I don't know how I can live without you--" His words dissolved into choking, gasping sobs.

"Alright, Yuuri," said Wolfram, who was shaking now, too. He closed his eyes. "Alright. Take me to the temple."

* * *

When Shibuya burst through the temple gates with a nearly-unconscious Sir Belefield in his arms, Murata knew at once what must be happening.

"Please," was all Shibuya seemed to be able to say between gasps for air. "Please."

"I'll take him," said Murata soothingly. "You stay here."

Shibuya shook his head violently. "No, I--"

"You cannot watch this, Shibuya." Before there could be any more protests, Murata took Sir Belefield, who leaned heavily against him, barely able to walk, and turned to the inner temple.

He heard Shibuya sink to the floor behind him, and the shrine maidens hurry to help the king.

Murata let Sir Belefield fall to his knees once they had reached the inner shrine. After a moment, the blond head rose to look up at the Original King.

"Do you want me to help you, Wolfram?" Shinou said quietly.

Sir Belefield nodded. "Please," he whispered, echoing his fiancé. Already, his eyes were wide in the glow of Shinou's power, his breathing slightly accelerating.

He shuddered when Shinou touched his cheek. He moaned when Shinou wrapped his hand around the back of his neck to draw him into a kiss.

Sir Belefield's robe fell to the floor.

Then Sir Belefield was on the floor, too, on his hands and knees. No need for caution or preparation, after all, when one them was a god.

Murata knew he wasn't allowed to leave. Even if he was, the intoxicating power was permeating the room along with the sound of Belefield's wordless pleas for more that echoed off the stone walls and the sound of Shinou's cock moving in and out--

Murata's hands twitched at his sides and he cursed this teenage body he had so little control over-- His erection throbbed painfully.

Belefield groaned and spread his legs wider, urging the cock inside him to drive deeper, pushing back against each thrust--

None of the reasons Murata had for not touching himself seemed convincing anymore. He let one hand stray to the bulge in his pants, moving lightly over the fabric...

* * *

If there was no hope, Yuuri told himself, Murata would have said so right away. If Shinou was unable or unwilling to save Wolfram, Murata would have come out and told him by now-- If Wolfram was dead, for good, Yuuri would know. So he tried to stay calm as he paced back and forth across the darkening courtyard. Focus on one foot in front of the other. Keep moving to keep sane.

Then the door where Wolfram and Murata had disappeared earlier burst open and all of the sudden there was Wolfram, grinning and practically glowing with energy.

Yuuri almost started crying again, this time with relief, as his fiancé ran to him and nearly knocked him over. He wasn't allowed to embrace Wolfram for long, however, before the blond broke free to seize Yuuri's arm and start running.

Yuuri could hardly keep up as Wolfram pulled him along, through the temple, out the gates, and down the hill, picking up speed until Yuuri stumbled in the dark and fell into Wolfram and they rolled a good ten meters before the ground evened out enough for them to slow and they rolled into a large bush.

Wolfram was laughing. Yuuri clung to him as the world kept spinning in his head. Then Wolfram was on top of him, Wolfram was kissing him--

Kissing him! Hot mouth-- wet lips-- strong tongue massaging his own-- hands moving in his hair. God, it was good!

Wolfram moved his hips. At first Yuuri thought he was just shifting position, but, no, that was definitely deliberate-- a teasing, rhythmic motion causing friction in all the right places, and then his hand was there, too-- stroking through Yuuri's uniform--

With difficulty, Yuuri managed to escape Wolfram's mouth to say, "Wolf... nnnnh... What are you doing?"

The mouth moved to his ear-- wet warm tongue lips-- "I want you," Wolfram breathed. "Yuuri--"

"What?" He wished Wolfram would stop-- This was too much-- "You mean-- But-- Now? Right here?"

Wolfram unbuckled Yuuri's belt.

"We can't--" said Yuuri. "And we've only just--" They'd only just started even thinking about things like kissing...

"Yuuri." When Wolfram touched his cheek he shuddered as a wave of... something went through him and there was no room for thoughts about moving too quickly or being seen or anything except the need for more.

More of Wolfram.

He would have pulled Wolfram's head down for another kiss, but that head moved to where Wolfram had now freed Yuuri's erection and then-- Then Wolfram licked him, running his tongue from base to tip, teasing at the head, then took him into his mouth and Yuuri came.

Wolfram swallowed before Yuuri could form the words of an apology, and kept sucking and moving on Yuuri's softening erection.

But Yuuri kept feeling it and it started to feel better and better and then he realized he was fully hard again-- without even going fully soft-- It was impossible--

He didn't particularly care about what was possible at the moment, however, not with that wet heat and drawing suction--

When Wolfram took his mouth away, Yuuri whimpered in protest, but Wolfram's hand stayed wrapped around him, stroking slowly and maddeningly lightly, and that mouth came up to kiss him again--

Yuuri was so distracted with exploring Wolfram's mouth with his own that it was a shock when he felt a new, tighter heat pressing at the tip of his cock.

He bucked, and then he was inside-- heat and pressure everywhere-- Wolfram's body-- He was inside Wolfram-- Wolfram moved around him-- Wolfram rocked up and down at the same time as he plundered Yuuri's mouth--

How could anything feel this good? Yuuri's whole body-- his whole being-- was lost in pleasure. He couldn't even move anymore, letting Wolfram do all the work, and soon he couldn't even breathe and he was coming--

And the ecstasy didn't leave. It just turned soft, heavy, tingling in his bones as he lay on the rough ground and gazed up at the moon and stars overhead. He was still dizzy, and he wanted to be dizzy forever. He wanted Wolfram to lie on top of him like this forever, too, a pleasant weight that kept him from spinning off of the planet, a heartbeat answering his own.

* * *

From the walls of the temple, Murata could see Sir Belefield's bright hair shining some ways down the hill, and the subtle glow of his borrowed magic. He knew Shibuya was down there, too. He couldn't begin to see what they were doing, but he could guess, based on Sir Belefield's state earlier-- barely pausing to pull his robe back on before running out to the courtyard and his fiancé-- and the fevered enthusiasm with which he had dragged Shibuya out into the night.

Murata didn't think Shibuya was ready for what Belefield was doing. He didn't think Sir Belefield was, either, in fact, but he was drunk on his renewed life...

Of course, Murata's concerns might have been his own invention, just a result of his selfish reluctance to think about-- Well, he was not above admitting to some small amount of jealousy.

"Didn't you used to say something about not dwelling on what would never come to pass?" Shinou, of course, appearing beside him.

Murata scowled, determinedly not bothering to take his eyes off of the faint sign of what was happening not so far away. "I'm not," he snapped. "But I am afraid of the damage you've done."

"Damage?" said Shinou innocently. "Bringing two lovers together? Surely that can only be a good deed. Except, that is, in the eyes of an unrequited--"

"Stop saying that!" Quite apart from not wanting to be accused of harboring feelings for his friend, Murata was furious that Shinou would dare use something so insubstantial as an excuse to ruin lives. He shouldn't be surprised, he knew-- the Original King had always been willing to do anything for the good of the country, his people as a whole, but he'd never had any twinge of conscience about manipulating individuals, at first for the sake of the kingdom, but soon for his own whims as well.

Murata supposed he himself had been like that, too, once. But something must have changed... probably because of Shibuya. Now it sickened him, and he was more frustrated than he had ever felt before that he could do nothing to stop it.

* * *

It could have been hours that Yuuri lay there with Wolfram now beside him as his sweat-drenched clothes started to dry. But, slowly, his brain began to function again.

What just happened... It had felt good, but... Was it really okay? Before now, the closest he'd come to sex was the brief kiss Wolfram gave him a few days ago. He hadn't even let himself think about things like this-- he would have felt wrong fantasizing about Wolfram. And now... Well, that was it, wasn't it? He'd had sex with Wolfram. Outside, on the ground, with his uniform and Wolfram's robe still in place. Surely there was something shameful about all of that.

He looked over at his fiancé, and found Wolfram was watching him, the corner of his much-abused lips curved into a smirk.

Yuuri wanted to do it again.

Not right now-- he was far too exhausted-- but he definitely wanted to do it again. And he didn't know if that was right or wrong. And he didn't care.

* * *

PART III

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern: Wolfram's highs and lows and going to the temple to restore his energy. At first, Wolfram was reluctant, and sometimes Yuuri had to tell him to go because he had slept for twenty-four hours straight or he had sat staring at the wall all afternoon... But soon Wolfram began to make the journey more and more often. Yuuri saw this, but he said nothing. After all, it could only be a good thing. And if Wolfram went to the temple twice in as many days, that was twice that Wolfram came home and grabbed Yuuri and made him feel better than anything else ever could.

Sometimes they even got undressed first, though that usually came afterwards, or sometimes not at all. Although Yuuri discovered that he was fond of being naked with Wolfram, he had to admit to himself that it wasn't the most important part. The most important thing-- what was really good, what occupied more and more of Yuuri's thoughts, what got him hard just thinking about it-- was Wolfram riding him, taking him deeper, doing amazing things with his muscles, and making such eager sounds and attacking Yuuri's mouth and neck so desperately that Yuuri was convinced, every time, that surely this time Wolfram would come.

He never did. And whenever Yuuri tried to do something for him, Wolfram brushed him off, telling him not to worry about it. Yuuri didn't like it, but what could he do? He didn't know what was normal and what wasn't-- he was just a teenager. And he didn't really feel he had a right to complain, what with all that Wolfram did for him. He certainly didn't want to do anything that might threaten this... arrangement, or whatever it was they had. More than anything, he didn't want it to stop.

* * *

Murata grew tired of living in his room in the temple and arguing uselessly with Shinou, watching Sir Belefield show up increasingly frequently to receive the Original King's "blessings" and not knowing what went on between his visits. So he moved to the castle, where he would be able to keep an eye on Sir Belefield but not have to watch what went on in those inner rooms, not have to be constantly in Shinou's presence.

Instead, he watched Shibuya grow antsy every time his fiancé left, but not, Murata soon realized, because he was worried about Sir Belefield. He was restless in anticipation of what always happened when (and only when) Sir Belefield returned each time with enough excess power to share. He heard them, sometimes-- Everyone did. The king's chambers were constructed to let the guards hear any disturbance or call for help, which meant any passionate enough moan or cry of pleasure was equally audible. The princess was kept away from that corridor from morning until evening when she was expected in the bedroom, often to spend the night. If Sir Belefield came back after sunset, they were smart enough to hold their trysts elsewhere and quickly-- but always it happened.

Murata saw all of this, and he saw that it wasn't right. Sir Belefield was not living the life he'd left. He was barely living at all. And Shibuya was blind to it all because he was just as addicted to what Shinou gave to Belefield as Belefield was himself.

Sir Belefield, however, was less blind. Murata suspected that he knew exactly what was happening, and that it disturbed him greatly that he had less and less control over himself, was less and less able to resist even the tiniest temptations.

Still, Murata was surprised when, upon seeing him in the hallway one day, Sir Belefield suddenly seized him by the collar and shoved him up against the wall.

"You--" he hissed. "Do something! I can't keep-- I don't know how-- If you care about Yuuri at all you have to help me. I don't want to die." Belefield was crying suddenly, which was another thing that happened more often now as his emotions spun out of control. "I don't want to leave him. But if I keep doing this--" He cut himself off to gasp for breath through his tears, still clinging to Murata's jacket as he held him against the wall.

"There's nothing I can do," said Murata quietly.

Belefield bowed his head, his bangs hiding his face as his shoulders shook.

"But you could tell Shibuya the truth."

Belefield went still. Then he leaned forward slightly and licked Murata's neck.

Murata sighed. "How long has it been you?"

A bite. "I have no interest in theatrics," said Shinou.

"So just now, then. Why are you here?" A tongue on his ear. "Because you don't want him to tell Shibuya?"

Shinou growled. "Nor do I have any fear of your king." Another bite, harder this time.

Murata smirked. He was prevented from arguing, however, when Shinou brought Belefield's mouth to his, biting and sucking at his lips. Murata opened his mouth and his hands went to thread through soft blond hair...

But this was wrong. Surely he was betraying Shibuya. Somehow, though, Murata couldn't quite follow that thought through. There was too much heat and tongue and hands-- Sir Belefield's hands-- Shibuya's fiancé's hands--

"Do you know what will happen if someone sees this?" Murata hissed. "Him and me--"

"Yes," said Shinou, not pausing in what he was doing. "But you don't seem to be very concerned." He teased Murata's erection through his uniform. "Hmm, perhaps I should have tried this before, when you first grew bored of me..."

"I didn't get bored." Murata had to use all his willpower just to keep from bucking against the warm palm rubbing all too lightly. He would have liked to retaliate with a few bites of his own, as well, but what sense he had left told him that leaving marks on Shibuya's lover would be in many ways a Bad Idea. "You just got jealous."

"And why shouldn't I be?" Shinou removed his hand to press harder against him, then took hold of both his wrists, trapping his arms against the wall, and kissed him roughly. "You're mine."

Murata gave in. He had never been able to hold out long against this man-- It was too good. He moaned into the mouth claiming his, both to give himself some release and because he knew Shinou liked it, and would have moved his hips if he'd had any room.

Thankfully, Shinou moved for him, friction increasing the heat between them.

Soon that mouth was hot, too, now on his neck again, and the hands on his wrists, and everywhere they touched, even through the frustrating layers of cloth. Almost too hot-- but not quite.

Shinou was using Belefield's magic.

Shibuya was lucky, he thought briefly, but he himself was luckier. Shinou's steady rhythm moved against him, making him gasp quietly as the pleasure built until the heat was too much and he came and, like always, witnessing Murata's orgasm pushed Shinou over the edge.

Murata hadn't even caught his breath before Shinou broke away. No-- It wasn't Shinou anymore--

It finally occurred to Murata just what he had done. The look on Belefield's face as he backed away...

* * *

As soon as Yuuri entered their bedroom for the night, it was obvious something was wrong. Wolfram was sitting, still in his day clothes, on the edge of the bed, and didn't take his eyes off the floor when Yuuri came in.

"Where's Greta?" asked Yuuri quietly.

"I sent her away." Wolfram's voice was flat.

"Wolfram..."

"Don't tell me to go to the temple."

Yuuri swallowed. "You have to sometime. You know that."

"I don't. I don't have to." Wolfram started to shake. "I have a choice. And I've made my decision."

"What decision?" Yuuri fought off a growing panic.

Wolfram took an audible breath and looked up. "I've decided to die."

"NO--"

"LISTEN TO ME!" Wolfram shouted over him. "It's the only way to stop this. And it's not like I'm going to kill myself-- I'm just going to wait and let things go back to how they should be. I should be dead. What I've been doing-- It has to stop."

"What has to stop?" Yuuri found himself stepping forward. "Wolfram, I'm sorry if I've ever-- You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I thought you liked... But I should have known-- You never--"

"That's just it! Yuuri! I do like it! But I should like it more. I should come just from touching you. I should be able to tell you--" He choked. "I should be able to say--"

"So say it."

"He won't let me!"

Yuuri could feel his anger rising. He wasn't going to lose Wolfram. "Who won't let you?"

"Who do you think?" Wolfram screamed. "And that's not all. He fucks me, Yuuri. He fucks me and I like it. I love it. He makes me come over and over. And then I come back to you and you're good but you're never quite as good as him. Don't you see how wrong that is? But you don't even care, do you? As long as we keep fucking you've got what you want because that's all you care about anymore and you don't even realize it and it's all because of him and it's because I'm supposed to be dead!"

Yuuri's vision clouded-- Control slipping away as the rage took over-- The room grew dark and the air cackled with electricity.

He raised his right hand and a boom of thunder sounded as a wave of magic ripped through the air-- right through Wolfram-- Wolfram collapsed on the bed-- Life torn from him along with Shinou's power--

But Yuuri had power, too.

* * *

Wolfram was waking up-- wave after wave of soothing warmth in the soft dark, bliss-- breathing--

His heartbeat began to even out, and his fevered blood began to cool. He opened his eyes.

Yuuri.

Yuuri clinging to him, breathing hard, but smiling. "There you are," he murmured, and kissed him softly.

"What happened?" Wolfram breathed, though he only partly cared about the answer when Yuuri was here and holding him close.

"That depends." Yuuri's jaw moved against the top of his head as he buried his face in his fiancé's shoulder. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Thinking was hard work. But Wolfram did it anyways, because he would do anything Yuuri asked him to. "I told you the truth... Oh..." He started to remember. "And you changed and... You made him leave, didn't you?" He let out a small laugh. "You killed me..."

"Almost," said Yuuri quietly, running his hands through Wolfram's hair. "But you're alive now, aren't you? And you're just you?"

Wolfram searched his own mind. "I think so." He closed his eyes, and said against Yuuri's neck, "Yuuri-- I love you." He smiled at how the words came out almost easily.

He was free.

He thought about it for a moment, but found he didn't even want to go back to the temple. Yuuri was enough. More than enough. This wasn't the euphoria the Original King had given him, but maybe it was better. It was... comfortable. Safe. And there would be more and he didn't have to have it all right now.

He wasn't going to die if he stopped moving.

But Yuuri was kissing him and that was alright, too, and he shifted to push Yuuri gently down on the bed, his arousal growing just from being this close to him. He ground their hips together and listened hungrily to Yuuri's little whimper.

"Yuuri," he said into his ear, putting all his lust in his voice. "Touch me."

Yuuri made an enthusiastic noise and reached between them. He started to unbuckle Wolfram's belt. Too slowly.

"Hurry," Wolfram begged. "I'm not going to last--"

The boy underneath him grinned and obeyed, and had Wolfram's already-dripping cock out and in his hand in seconds. And he'd touched Wolfram before, albeit briefly, but it was so much more real now and he was so much more Yuuri-- He moved his fist clumsily, awkward at this angle, but somehow that just made it better and it was only a few moments before Wolfram's orgasm washed over him and pulsed into Yuuri's hand.

He looked up, and couldn't help returning Yuuri's wide smile. Then Yuuri looked at his hand and brought it to his mouth, licking and sucking at his fingers to consume every drop of Wolfram's come.

"I love you," was all Wolfram could say. Yuuri kept smiling.

* * *

Murata moved back to the temple. If nothing else, he needed to avoid Sir Belefield for a little while. Shibuya had forgiven them both, of course-- Actually, he hadn't seen that there was anything to be forgiven. The way he saw it, it was all Shinou's fault.

Which was, to be fair, pretty accurate.

But Shibuya's magic had, as usual, saved the day, bringing Sir Belefield fully into this world and sealing Shinou, body and spirit, in the confines of the temple grounds. It amused Murata to watch the Original King pace around, trapped in his own sanctuary by a teenage king.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Murata teased him. "It's not like you left very often before." He never could, while maintaining his physical form. "Or were you planning on doing more killing and possessing?"

Shinou narrowed his eyes at him. "You take pleasure in my imprisonment."

"Yes," said Murata. "I do. You very much deserve it. Well, you deserve a lot worse, but I suppose this will do. You are useful to have around on occasion."

Shinou's scowl turned to a smirk. "I do have many uses." He reached out and took Murata by the waist, pulling him close.

Murata squirmed excitedly as Shinou bit his neck. He hadn't forgiven him-- he never would-- but then again there were a lot of things Murata hadn't forgiven him for, and he was still here.

* * *

And so Yuuri was the one who had given Wolfram life this time, and he'd given it for good. And he was the only one who got to touch him, the only one who made him come, and the only one who made him happy.

He was the one Wolfram needed.

* * *