[fic} [Round #34] Birth, Death & Everything In Between [PG-13]
Author: Tigersilver
Pairing: Shibuya Yuuri X Wolfram von Bielefeld
Characters: Yuuri, Wolfram, Ulrike
Word Count: 2826
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Yuuram
Warning:MPREG
Theme(s): Sexual Tension/Unresolved Sexual Tension
Prompt: “Death, Birth and the Rest of it in Between"
The Maou was terrified. Wolfram was panting and absolutely white. Cheri had fainted. Conrad was grim.
Ulrike was absolutely calm, as she should be. She re-checked the level of the wax in the candles and the number of beads of sweat on the Consort’s fair brow and quietly called for more warm water and an additional basin.
Yuuri growled when he felt the bones in his hand crunch. Wolfram had squeezed it, riding a new wave of pain. The Maou turned a frantic face toward Ulrike, his black eyes begging her to make it stop.
That an eight-hundred-year-and-then-some-old Temple Virgin was to be the Royal Midwife had shocked an already shell-shocked Yuuri all those months ago, new in the knowledge that he was to be a father and babbling nonsensically about gynecologists and ultrasounds and hospitals. He’d protested it to his precious spouse, wanting modern medicine and the best of birthing facilities, by whining continuously as Wolf-chan blithely consulted his chosen advisors and then dramatically increased the volume of his voice as none of the three paid him attention.
“We need to go back to Earth, Wolf! What if something goes wrong?”
“Humph! Like you would know, wimp! And stop following me!”
Wolfram had glanced at him derisively and then promptly ignored him, turning back to the wise council of his mother and Gunter. Yes, yes: Ulrike was his midwife; he’d met with her already as soon as he’d realized; there’d be a few purification rituals beforehand, nothing major; he was not to eat blackberries or stay too long in the bath. Eat right and get lots of rest.
“That’s it!?!” howled the Maou, who’d spent a fruitless, panicky morning running after Wolfram, trying to make him sit down. He ran after him again, as the conference with Wolfram’s chosen ‘seconds’ as he liked to call them, was over and done with.
“That’s all there is!? You have to be kidding me! We need-”
“Pfft! Wimp! It’s only a baby - that doesn’t make me incapable,” Wolfram threw his way, barely even bothering to turn back from his goal of an afternoon’s hard sparring practice with the soon-to-be-uncle Conrad.
“Besides, it’s months away. I’ll be fine.” He smiled his glorious smile - the one reserved only for Yuuri - and walked out the door, the matter clearly settled.
“No!” The Maou ran after him again. “Damn it, Wolfram, listen…!”
*
“Why are you so worked up about this? What are you afraid of?” The blonde rested the book he was reading on his lap and settled back into the pillows, waiting for the inevitable fight.
His husband sniffed and turned his head away.
“I told you - and told you and told you,” he said pettishly. “It’s your fault if you don’t listen, Wolfram.”
Several uncomfortable months had passed. Not that there was anything wrong with Wolfram physically. He felt perfectly fine. It was just that he’d flatly refused to return to Earth for an examination and Yuuri adamantly kept after him, swearing up and down that he wanted the best for his husband and always asking why was Wolf-chan so stubborn? That, coupled with the fact that Yuuri had sent his personal guard on an extended tour of the Human border, had shipped his favorite stallion off to the von Bielefeld estate for stud purposes, had talked Gwendal into removing the entirety of his more strenuous responsibilities, and, worst of all, had even dragged Greta into his personal paranoia, so that the poor little girl now followed her blonde father around like a lost puppy, barely letting him out of her sight, afraid she would lose him - all that combined made the now visibly more pregnant Consort a very dissatisfied customer.
No, he’d thought to himself bitterly more than once, maybe Greta following him wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was that Yuuri absolutely refused to touch him, other than to uselessly fuss. There was none of the intimacy a hormonal Wolfram craved and it seemed, in Yuuri’s mind at least, that it wasn’t even an option.
“I won’t have it,” the Maou continued. “I’m not putting up with it any longer. You don’t even think about maybe taking it easy; you don’t even care that you’re putting yourself in danger.” Yuuri closed his own book with an irritated snap. Dark eyes full of silent accusation turned to Wolfram.
“And the baby - our baby.”
Wolfram drew in his breath with an audible hiss, white fingers crushing the spine of the unfortunate novel. The Maou ignored this and other warning signs of an imminent explosion.
“Well, if you won’t, I will, Wolfram. I’ve had enough of you treating this like it was all some big joke - I talked to Shori yesterday and we have a Earth Mazoku doctor lined up, ready to take a look at you. We’re going back tomorrow morning and you’re going to get checked out for real this time and I don’t want to hear one single word from you against it - and that is an Order!”
“You…you idiot!”
The Maou’s Consort snatched to book from his lap and threw it - with force, so it slammed into the wall opposite and slid down to the floor, pages crumpled. It promptly burst into flame.
“H-hey-!” Yuuri tried to point out that fires in the bedroom weren’t a good idea but Wolfram’s anger was rolling toward him like a Sherman tank, gun turrets spitting out deadly words.
“You fool! How dare you imply that I don’t take care of this child!” Wolf gathered his bulging pink nightgown up and slammed his bare feet on the floor in counterpoint.
“What kind of parent do you think I am?! Tell me, do you even trust me with Greta?!”
Wolfram stomped over to the door to the bathroom as if he’d meant to go in that direction. In reality, he’d been intending to leave the Royal Chambers in a Royal Huff, but his bladder was full and the baby was leaning on it. He turned instead, sneering, hand on the knob, his glorious green eyes absolutely incandescent with fury, with just enough time to spit one last challenge before he had to go pee.
“Is that all I am to you, Shibuya Yuuri - a baby carrier? Don’t you care about my life and what I might want? Or is it all about you, Your Majesty - just like it always is!”
The door slammed. The Maou roared at the unfairness of it all, blue sparks flying up from his black hair as he vaulted out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the bathroom door, banging on it like there was no tomorrow.
“Woolfffraam!”
He ripped the door off a minute later, which only made Wolfram angrier.
+
Wolf did go, after all. Though not the next day. Another month had passed, filled with sniping and arctic silences and the occasional threat to go sleep in newly redecorated Nursery, until Yuuri finally broke down and told him why he was being such an ass.
“My mom, her sister…my aunt Sakura, she-“
Yuuri had his black head in Wolfram’s lap, pressed up close to the bulge of Wolf’s abdomen. He’d cornered him in the South Library and had taken advantage of the fact that the blonde now moved somewhat more slowly than he had just two months before.
“Died.”
“Oh…Yuuri,” Wolfram sighed and allowed his fingers to tangle in the dark locks spread over his blue velvet tunic. His face softened with sympathy…and some curiosity. They’d ended up this way because Yuuri had gone down on his knees, begging for forgiveness in his delightfully wimpy way. Wolfram had given in immediately, his hands trembling under Yuuri’s kisses, more than glad to call it quits on the Cold War.
“How, Yuuri?”
“Um, well, my mom said she got married really young. She was pregnant very soon after she married my uncle - and it went wrong, somehow.”
“Wrong?”
“She bled a lot, I think, and they made her stay in bed, to try to save the baby. My uncle’s the head of this big corporation in Tokyo - I guess the baby was supposed to be his heir or something.”
“Like with us, Yuuri?”
“Well…maybe. I don’t know - it doesn’t matter, does it?” The Maou looked up, to find melting green eyes fixed on him, and smiled, shrugging. “I mean, we don’t have to have more kids just for Shin Makoku, right?”
He laid his head back down in Wolf-chan’s lap and slid his arms around the blonde’s middle, seeking comfort in touch. Wolfram, however, had stiffened and gone papery white.
“We’ve got Greta - that’s all we need,” Yuuri leaned forward to peck the bulge, even as he denied the need for it. “We don’t absolutely have to have a baby.”
“You’re…you’re saying you don’t want this?” A thin note of hysteria lay under Wolfram’s gruff question.
Yuuri smiled ruefully, tightening his grip, hard enough to make Wolfram gasp and pay attention.
“No!…No, I’m saying I don’t want you in danger - I want you safe, here with me. Always.”
The layer of solid uncompromising muscle under the layers of velvet and silk - and softer-than-that skin - relaxed infinitesimally. Wolfram breathed out.
“…Oh. Good.”
“Always,” Yuuri repeated, nestling his head against Wolf’s small belly. “I don’t need anything other than that.”
Wolf shivered at Yuuri’s seriousness and clenched his hands in Yuuri’s hair again.
The Maou pressed his lips against Wolfram’s swollen stomach. His hands splayed around the blonde’s broadening hips, holding on with a firmness that seemed borne of desperation. Wolfram cocked his head, waiting for the rest of the story. Eventually, he knew, Yuuri would tell him, just as he always did.
“I’m afraid,” Yuuri whispered, finally. “I don’t want to lose you. My aunt died anyway, even with everything my uncle did for her, trying to keep her. I don’t want to be like that, Wolf-chan-“
“Yuuri!”
“’Cause you’re my everything, and I can’t lose you.”
“You don’t have to worry that, Yuuri,” Wolf rushed in, flattered, frightened, throwing his own arms around Yuuri’s shoulders in an effort to comfort him.
“I’ll be fine,” he strove for a firm no-nonsense tone. “We Mazoku have been doing this for centuries.”
“…Yeah, I know,” the Maou chuckled without humor, shifting against Wolf’s lap. “Or my head knows, but everything else doesn’t. I don’t trust it, I guess - I want real doctors and real nurses and all those instruments they use…everything…if you need it.”
He rose up on his knees suddenly, sliding his hands up to capture Wolf’s shoulders, bending his mussed head toward the lovely, worried face, so he could grind his unhappy mouth against the soft lips of his husband, and bury his nose in the fragrant mass of golden hair.
“You’re so small,” he muttered, mouth moving lightly across Wolf’s blushing cheeks. “So fragile-looking, even if you say you’re made of steel.”
Yuuri brought his lips close to his lover’s ear, blowing in it softly, so that Wolfram shuddered, the faint rill of anger already gone. Something else grew, an unbidden and blatantly lustful passion that roared in his head and nearly blocked out Yuuri’s next words.
“So dear to me, I can’t stand it,” the black-haired man was growling against Wolfram’s ear, “and if you leave me, I’m not going to make it.”
Wolfram shook off the inappropriate lust and clutched at Yuuri’s shoulders, trying to draw him closer.
Yuuri swallowed hard, throat clogging with tears at the idea. He held Wolfram to him gingerly, as if the blonde were wrought of fine crystal, careful now to clasp him loosely, hands cautious against the layers of cloth. His husband had to strain to hear the next revelation, so soft were the words breathed against his neck.
“I’m afraid to touch you - maybe I’ll hurt you. I know it’s stupid but maybe you’ll die if I do, just like my aunt.”
“…Yuuri?”
“And I miss you so much. I’m so tired of being afraid to touch you. S-so I want you to do me a favor-“
“I’ll go.”
Yuuri’s tears were dripping on his collarbone. Wolfram bore them like a proud badge.
The dark head drew back and the first true smile in a long while dawned on the Maou’s wet face.
“R-really?”
“Yes. I’ll go.”
&
Everything was hunky-dory. Yuuri reluctantly gave in to the inevitable. Whatever Ulrike was advising must be working, ‘cause his husband was in the pink of health.
It gave him time to enjoy the rest of Wolfram’s first pregnancy, for which he was ever grateful. Yuuri went miles out of his way to spoil Wolf rotten. Wolfram glowed.
As for Wolfram, the hard plastic wand that pressed against his growing belly had been a breakthrough - he could see their child for the first time. This was a miracle, better even than the Earth doctor telling Yuuri very seriously that intercourse was fine for a while longer.
And so the time of patient waiting passed happily, a harbinger of things to come, and they enjoyed every moment of it, discovering new ways to love each other, new ways to give pleasure.
Until just now, when Wolfram had just finished up a monumental rant on how he hated his beloved husband more than anything else in the world - useless, irresponsible, wimpy idiot that he was. The blonde was now laying exhausted against the mound of white pillows, his breath still stertorous, his eyes blank with pain. He was clearly unhappy, his face creased and patched with an ugly flush, his bright hair sweaty, his privates exposed to countless people who had no business being there in the first place. Wolfram wanted only Yuuri, the bastard that had done this to him - and maybe Ulrike, who was supposed to be there.
And the birth was a difficult one, with the baby turned utterly the wrong way and Wolfram grunting and whimpering with constant agony. It got so that Yuuri was glad to be yelled at, because that meant Wolf felt well enough to yell. And it all went on and on, till Yuuri was positive this dismal night would never end.
Until the 13th hour, when Ulrike ordered that new candles be lit and the linens freshened. Everything was ready and waiting; a fainting Cheri had been carried out by a weary, war-worn Conrad long ago. It was only the major players left on stage to get the job done.
“And….please push now, Your Highness.”
Wolfram screwed his blotchy face up. His short nails bit down on Yuuri’s palm as he exerted pressure against the ungainly lump in his belly, grunting.
“Like this?” he gasped.
“Harder, please, next time.”
“You know, Yuuri, I really hate you.” The blond struggled to breathe.
Yuuri grinned and sobbed and gripped Wolf’s hand, breathing with him, their eyes trained on Ulrike.
“I love you, too, Wolf-chan. I’m with you, okay?”
“And again…now!”
“Arrggh!”
“Good!” Yuuri congratulated him. Wolfram glared.
“Very good, Your Highness. Just like that…now!”
“OhgodsYuuriIhateyou! Aaaahhh!”
“Beautiful, Wolf-chan! Keep it up!”
“Now!”
“Reallyhateyou! Unngghh!”
“And…again.”
“…” It was a soundless scream. Yuuri despised it and was nearly to the point of asking Ulrike to stop this idiocy, except that it seemed to be working. Ulrike had a tiny squalling red ball in her hands.
“Oh!” Yuuri felt his face falling into a silly grin, one that he’d probably be sporting for quite some time. He ached to hold the squirmy creature but that honor belonged to his chosen mate.
“…Oh, sheesh, Yuuri, you asshole!” Wolfram’s eyes finally opened. He stared at Yuuri accusingly, focusing on the rock that kept him steady, still unaware that his final effort had paid off so very well.
“You’d better be the one next time-“
“Wolf-chan.”
He turned his head, drawn by an ittybitty snuffle and flail of a minute arm.
“Yuuri!”
Wolfram’s green eyes were always beautiful, Yuuri thought, but never more so than now. He was an angel, covered in blood and a sweat-stained nightgown, his blonde hair plastered to his well-shaped head.
A snip and another wipe with a white silk cloth and then Wolfram was holding his second child, safe and warm in his arms, with Yuuri’s arms around the both of them. He barely noticed the afterbirth or Ulrike’s work at making him presentable. His eyes were only on the baby, misty and soft and hazy with an incredible welling of love.
And so it was that Yuuri, 27th Maou, bore the next child, true to His Highness the Royal Consort’s vow. Apparently Shoma had fudged certain information on Yuuri’s school physicals and, of course, the Maou was known for being a little oblivious, though awfully nice, and thus he even never noticed until it actually happened. And then his nervous, jumpy, overly-protective and anxious Consort allowed him to do pretty much nothing during the whole of his pregnancy and the tables were effectively turned.
.
.
Pairing: Shibuya Yuuri X Wolfram von Bielefeld
Characters: Yuuri, Wolfram, Ulrike
Word Count: 2826
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Yuuram
Warning:MPREG
Theme(s): Sexual Tension/Unresolved Sexual Tension
Prompt: “Death, Birth and the Rest of it in Between"
The Maou was terrified. Wolfram was panting and absolutely white. Cheri had fainted. Conrad was grim.
Ulrike was absolutely calm, as she should be. She re-checked the level of the wax in the candles and the number of beads of sweat on the Consort’s fair brow and quietly called for more warm water and an additional basin.
Yuuri growled when he felt the bones in his hand crunch. Wolfram had squeezed it, riding a new wave of pain. The Maou turned a frantic face toward Ulrike, his black eyes begging her to make it stop.
That an eight-hundred-year-and-then-some-old Temple Virgin was to be the Royal Midwife had shocked an already shell-shocked Yuuri all those months ago, new in the knowledge that he was to be a father and babbling nonsensically about gynecologists and ultrasounds and hospitals. He’d protested it to his precious spouse, wanting modern medicine and the best of birthing facilities, by whining continuously as Wolf-chan blithely consulted his chosen advisors and then dramatically increased the volume of his voice as none of the three paid him attention.
“We need to go back to Earth, Wolf! What if something goes wrong?”
“Humph! Like you would know, wimp! And stop following me!”
Wolfram had glanced at him derisively and then promptly ignored him, turning back to the wise council of his mother and Gunter. Yes, yes: Ulrike was his midwife; he’d met with her already as soon as he’d realized; there’d be a few purification rituals beforehand, nothing major; he was not to eat blackberries or stay too long in the bath. Eat right and get lots of rest.
“That’s it!?!” howled the Maou, who’d spent a fruitless, panicky morning running after Wolfram, trying to make him sit down. He ran after him again, as the conference with Wolfram’s chosen ‘seconds’ as he liked to call them, was over and done with.
“That’s all there is!? You have to be kidding me! We need-”
“Pfft! Wimp! It’s only a baby - that doesn’t make me incapable,” Wolfram threw his way, barely even bothering to turn back from his goal of an afternoon’s hard sparring practice with the soon-to-be-uncle Conrad.
“Besides, it’s months away. I’ll be fine.” He smiled his glorious smile - the one reserved only for Yuuri - and walked out the door, the matter clearly settled.
“No!” The Maou ran after him again. “Damn it, Wolfram, listen…!”
*
“Why are you so worked up about this? What are you afraid of?” The blonde rested the book he was reading on his lap and settled back into the pillows, waiting for the inevitable fight.
His husband sniffed and turned his head away.
“I told you - and told you and told you,” he said pettishly. “It’s your fault if you don’t listen, Wolfram.”
Several uncomfortable months had passed. Not that there was anything wrong with Wolfram physically. He felt perfectly fine. It was just that he’d flatly refused to return to Earth for an examination and Yuuri adamantly kept after him, swearing up and down that he wanted the best for his husband and always asking why was Wolf-chan so stubborn? That, coupled with the fact that Yuuri had sent his personal guard on an extended tour of the Human border, had shipped his favorite stallion off to the von Bielefeld estate for stud purposes, had talked Gwendal into removing the entirety of his more strenuous responsibilities, and, worst of all, had even dragged Greta into his personal paranoia, so that the poor little girl now followed her blonde father around like a lost puppy, barely letting him out of her sight, afraid she would lose him - all that combined made the now visibly more pregnant Consort a very dissatisfied customer.
No, he’d thought to himself bitterly more than once, maybe Greta following him wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was that Yuuri absolutely refused to touch him, other than to uselessly fuss. There was none of the intimacy a hormonal Wolfram craved and it seemed, in Yuuri’s mind at least, that it wasn’t even an option.
“I won’t have it,” the Maou continued. “I’m not putting up with it any longer. You don’t even think about maybe taking it easy; you don’t even care that you’re putting yourself in danger.” Yuuri closed his own book with an irritated snap. Dark eyes full of silent accusation turned to Wolfram.
“And the baby - our baby.”
Wolfram drew in his breath with an audible hiss, white fingers crushing the spine of the unfortunate novel. The Maou ignored this and other warning signs of an imminent explosion.
“Well, if you won’t, I will, Wolfram. I’ve had enough of you treating this like it was all some big joke - I talked to Shori yesterday and we have a Earth Mazoku doctor lined up, ready to take a look at you. We’re going back tomorrow morning and you’re going to get checked out for real this time and I don’t want to hear one single word from you against it - and that is an Order!”
“You…you idiot!”
The Maou’s Consort snatched to book from his lap and threw it - with force, so it slammed into the wall opposite and slid down to the floor, pages crumpled. It promptly burst into flame.
“H-hey-!” Yuuri tried to point out that fires in the bedroom weren’t a good idea but Wolfram’s anger was rolling toward him like a Sherman tank, gun turrets spitting out deadly words.
“You fool! How dare you imply that I don’t take care of this child!” Wolf gathered his bulging pink nightgown up and slammed his bare feet on the floor in counterpoint.
“What kind of parent do you think I am?! Tell me, do you even trust me with Greta?!”
Wolfram stomped over to the door to the bathroom as if he’d meant to go in that direction. In reality, he’d been intending to leave the Royal Chambers in a Royal Huff, but his bladder was full and the baby was leaning on it. He turned instead, sneering, hand on the knob, his glorious green eyes absolutely incandescent with fury, with just enough time to spit one last challenge before he had to go pee.
“Is that all I am to you, Shibuya Yuuri - a baby carrier? Don’t you care about my life and what I might want? Or is it all about you, Your Majesty - just like it always is!”
The door slammed. The Maou roared at the unfairness of it all, blue sparks flying up from his black hair as he vaulted out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the bathroom door, banging on it like there was no tomorrow.
“Woolfffraam!”
He ripped the door off a minute later, which only made Wolfram angrier.
+
Wolf did go, after all. Though not the next day. Another month had passed, filled with sniping and arctic silences and the occasional threat to go sleep in newly redecorated Nursery, until Yuuri finally broke down and told him why he was being such an ass.
“My mom, her sister…my aunt Sakura, she-“
Yuuri had his black head in Wolfram’s lap, pressed up close to the bulge of Wolf’s abdomen. He’d cornered him in the South Library and had taken advantage of the fact that the blonde now moved somewhat more slowly than he had just two months before.
“Died.”
“Oh…Yuuri,” Wolfram sighed and allowed his fingers to tangle in the dark locks spread over his blue velvet tunic. His face softened with sympathy…and some curiosity. They’d ended up this way because Yuuri had gone down on his knees, begging for forgiveness in his delightfully wimpy way. Wolfram had given in immediately, his hands trembling under Yuuri’s kisses, more than glad to call it quits on the Cold War.
“How, Yuuri?”
“Um, well, my mom said she got married really young. She was pregnant very soon after she married my uncle - and it went wrong, somehow.”
“Wrong?”
“She bled a lot, I think, and they made her stay in bed, to try to save the baby. My uncle’s the head of this big corporation in Tokyo - I guess the baby was supposed to be his heir or something.”
“Like with us, Yuuri?”
“Well…maybe. I don’t know - it doesn’t matter, does it?” The Maou looked up, to find melting green eyes fixed on him, and smiled, shrugging. “I mean, we don’t have to have more kids just for Shin Makoku, right?”
He laid his head back down in Wolf-chan’s lap and slid his arms around the blonde’s middle, seeking comfort in touch. Wolfram, however, had stiffened and gone papery white.
“We’ve got Greta - that’s all we need,” Yuuri leaned forward to peck the bulge, even as he denied the need for it. “We don’t absolutely have to have a baby.”
“You’re…you’re saying you don’t want this?” A thin note of hysteria lay under Wolfram’s gruff question.
Yuuri smiled ruefully, tightening his grip, hard enough to make Wolfram gasp and pay attention.
“No!…No, I’m saying I don’t want you in danger - I want you safe, here with me. Always.”
The layer of solid uncompromising muscle under the layers of velvet and silk - and softer-than-that skin - relaxed infinitesimally. Wolfram breathed out.
“…Oh. Good.”
“Always,” Yuuri repeated, nestling his head against Wolf’s small belly. “I don’t need anything other than that.”
Wolf shivered at Yuuri’s seriousness and clenched his hands in Yuuri’s hair again.
The Maou pressed his lips against Wolfram’s swollen stomach. His hands splayed around the blonde’s broadening hips, holding on with a firmness that seemed borne of desperation. Wolfram cocked his head, waiting for the rest of the story. Eventually, he knew, Yuuri would tell him, just as he always did.
“I’m afraid,” Yuuri whispered, finally. “I don’t want to lose you. My aunt died anyway, even with everything my uncle did for her, trying to keep her. I don’t want to be like that, Wolf-chan-“
“Yuuri!”
“’Cause you’re my everything, and I can’t lose you.”
“You don’t have to worry that, Yuuri,” Wolf rushed in, flattered, frightened, throwing his own arms around Yuuri’s shoulders in an effort to comfort him.
“I’ll be fine,” he strove for a firm no-nonsense tone. “We Mazoku have been doing this for centuries.”
“…Yeah, I know,” the Maou chuckled without humor, shifting against Wolf’s lap. “Or my head knows, but everything else doesn’t. I don’t trust it, I guess - I want real doctors and real nurses and all those instruments they use…everything…if you need it.”
He rose up on his knees suddenly, sliding his hands up to capture Wolf’s shoulders, bending his mussed head toward the lovely, worried face, so he could grind his unhappy mouth against the soft lips of his husband, and bury his nose in the fragrant mass of golden hair.
“You’re so small,” he muttered, mouth moving lightly across Wolf’s blushing cheeks. “So fragile-looking, even if you say you’re made of steel.”
Yuuri brought his lips close to his lover’s ear, blowing in it softly, so that Wolfram shuddered, the faint rill of anger already gone. Something else grew, an unbidden and blatantly lustful passion that roared in his head and nearly blocked out Yuuri’s next words.
“So dear to me, I can’t stand it,” the black-haired man was growling against Wolfram’s ear, “and if you leave me, I’m not going to make it.”
Wolfram shook off the inappropriate lust and clutched at Yuuri’s shoulders, trying to draw him closer.
Yuuri swallowed hard, throat clogging with tears at the idea. He held Wolfram to him gingerly, as if the blonde were wrought of fine crystal, careful now to clasp him loosely, hands cautious against the layers of cloth. His husband had to strain to hear the next revelation, so soft were the words breathed against his neck.
“I’m afraid to touch you - maybe I’ll hurt you. I know it’s stupid but maybe you’ll die if I do, just like my aunt.”
“…Yuuri?”
“And I miss you so much. I’m so tired of being afraid to touch you. S-so I want you to do me a favor-“
“I’ll go.”
Yuuri’s tears were dripping on his collarbone. Wolfram bore them like a proud badge.
The dark head drew back and the first true smile in a long while dawned on the Maou’s wet face.
“R-really?”
“Yes. I’ll go.”
&
Everything was hunky-dory. Yuuri reluctantly gave in to the inevitable. Whatever Ulrike was advising must be working, ‘cause his husband was in the pink of health.
It gave him time to enjoy the rest of Wolfram’s first pregnancy, for which he was ever grateful. Yuuri went miles out of his way to spoil Wolf rotten. Wolfram glowed.
As for Wolfram, the hard plastic wand that pressed against his growing belly had been a breakthrough - he could see their child for the first time. This was a miracle, better even than the Earth doctor telling Yuuri very seriously that intercourse was fine for a while longer.
And so the time of patient waiting passed happily, a harbinger of things to come, and they enjoyed every moment of it, discovering new ways to love each other, new ways to give pleasure.
Until just now, when Wolfram had just finished up a monumental rant on how he hated his beloved husband more than anything else in the world - useless, irresponsible, wimpy idiot that he was. The blonde was now laying exhausted against the mound of white pillows, his breath still stertorous, his eyes blank with pain. He was clearly unhappy, his face creased and patched with an ugly flush, his bright hair sweaty, his privates exposed to countless people who had no business being there in the first place. Wolfram wanted only Yuuri, the bastard that had done this to him - and maybe Ulrike, who was supposed to be there.
And the birth was a difficult one, with the baby turned utterly the wrong way and Wolfram grunting and whimpering with constant agony. It got so that Yuuri was glad to be yelled at, because that meant Wolf felt well enough to yell. And it all went on and on, till Yuuri was positive this dismal night would never end.
Until the 13th hour, when Ulrike ordered that new candles be lit and the linens freshened. Everything was ready and waiting; a fainting Cheri had been carried out by a weary, war-worn Conrad long ago. It was only the major players left on stage to get the job done.
“And….please push now, Your Highness.”
Wolfram screwed his blotchy face up. His short nails bit down on Yuuri’s palm as he exerted pressure against the ungainly lump in his belly, grunting.
“Like this?” he gasped.
“Harder, please, next time.”
“You know, Yuuri, I really hate you.” The blond struggled to breathe.
Yuuri grinned and sobbed and gripped Wolf’s hand, breathing with him, their eyes trained on Ulrike.
“I love you, too, Wolf-chan. I’m with you, okay?”
“And again…now!”
“Arrggh!”
“Good!” Yuuri congratulated him. Wolfram glared.
“Very good, Your Highness. Just like that…now!”
“OhgodsYuuriIhateyou! Aaaahhh!”
“Beautiful, Wolf-chan! Keep it up!”
“Now!”
“Reallyhateyou! Unngghh!”
“And…again.”
“…” It was a soundless scream. Yuuri despised it and was nearly to the point of asking Ulrike to stop this idiocy, except that it seemed to be working. Ulrike had a tiny squalling red ball in her hands.
“Oh!” Yuuri felt his face falling into a silly grin, one that he’d probably be sporting for quite some time. He ached to hold the squirmy creature but that honor belonged to his chosen mate.
“…Oh, sheesh, Yuuri, you asshole!” Wolfram’s eyes finally opened. He stared at Yuuri accusingly, focusing on the rock that kept him steady, still unaware that his final effort had paid off so very well.
“You’d better be the one next time-“
“Wolf-chan.”
He turned his head, drawn by an ittybitty snuffle and flail of a minute arm.
“Yuuri!”
Wolfram’s green eyes were always beautiful, Yuuri thought, but never more so than now. He was an angel, covered in blood and a sweat-stained nightgown, his blonde hair plastered to his well-shaped head.
A snip and another wipe with a white silk cloth and then Wolfram was holding his second child, safe and warm in his arms, with Yuuri’s arms around the both of them. He barely noticed the afterbirth or Ulrike’s work at making him presentable. His eyes were only on the baby, misty and soft and hazy with an incredible welling of love.
And so it was that Yuuri, 27th Maou, bore the next child, true to His Highness the Royal Consort’s vow. Apparently Shoma had fudged certain information on Yuuri’s school physicals and, of course, the Maou was known for being a little oblivious, though awfully nice, and thus he even never noticed until it actually happened. And then his nervous, jumpy, overly-protective and anxious Consort allowed him to do pretty much nothing during the whole of his pregnancy and the tables were effectively turned.
.
.