Alone and Lonely, MurataxYuuri, 3/27
Title: Alone and Lonely
Author/Artist: Me. byakuya_chan
Pairing: MurataxYuuri, hints of ConradxWolfram (INCEST. <33).
Rating: T+ (OT?) for make-out scene, to the best of my abilities
Genre: Romance
Chapter: 3/27.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou!
Author's Ramblings: This wasn't the intentional 3rd fanfic I was working on, but same difference. A fic is a fic is a fic is a fic.
Important Notes: Hints of incest, kind of lime-ish, slightlyebol!Wolfram. X-posted to kkm_yaoi, kyou_kara_maou, and murata_x_yuuri
It all began with a simple, unrelated dream of vagueities and completely unorthodox. Gripping, straining, shoving, breathing, all so undistinguishable. He could not feel more than the brush of bangs by his cheek, the whisper of newcomings beside his ear, and a warmth irresistible.
Please tell me, what is it that I dream of?
ooooooo
“You write a lot in your journal.” Half-hearted, Wolfram scrolled through the faded, ragged, simple black journal, completely ignoring Yuuri’s shouts of indignancy. He chuckled to himself at a particularly amusing entry (“Oh, I remember when this happened…”) and kept a flailing Yuuri just barely out of reach. “What’s this of dreams, Yuuri?”
“Mmppgmh!”
“I can’t understand you; speak up.”
Yuuri bit at Wolfram’s hand. “It’s about this weird dream I’ve been having lately. I’m not sure what it’s about even, it’s just…there’s this immense, comforting heat around him, and darkness, and that’s all I can distinguish. I also hear the clink of metal, like glasses or something,” a slight twitch went through Wolfram, “but I’m not sure…”
Wolfram sighed. He idly considered punching Yuuri for being such a dunce--after their initial break-up, he thought he’d never recover, but here the two of them were, conversing civilly. “What do you think it is?” He spoke quietly, as the conversation had drastically taken a darker turn, one that should not be discussed outside these oaken doors. Wolfram fiddled with his ear--like how the residents of Earth would sort of rub their nose--and stared at Yuuri sternly.
“Uhm…” He wasn’t entirely comfortable with confiding in Wolfram about this, but he most certainly couldn’t confide to Conrad, or Murata, so he’d best live with it. “I think it’s like…meandsomeonehavingsexmaybeIdon’treallyknowit’sjustaguessbutIreallythinkitis.”
“Could you repeat that in a language I can understand?”
“I think it’s…m-me and someone…having…”
“Maritals?”
Yuuri nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah. That. I’m just guessing at it, and I’m not intelligent like you and Murata, but…”
“Do you believe it is Ken?”
“Wh-what?! No! Murata’s my best friend--I could never do th-that with him!”
“Why not?”
His mouth opened quickly, stayed as that for a few seconds, then slowly shut. Truth be told, Yuuri wasn’t sure why; the proposition of having sex with Murata was an entity all to itself. “I-I…er…” He settled with a maddened blush, and dashing out the room, screaming his apologies loudly.
“So so dense…”
ooooooo
“Heika, is there something on your mind?”
“No, no; I’m fine Conrad…really.” Conrad already worried enough, and had many issues; he needn’t anymore because his dear Heika was questioning the relationship between himself and Ken Murata.
Conrad’s warm hand landed softly on his shoulder, concern embedded in his gaze. “Heika…you may tell me whatever you like--anything at all. Is it about a love interest of yours?” His gaze was unwavering, not changing in the slightest at the prospect of Yuuri emotionally liking someone as more than a friend (as Yuuri considered everyone “friends”, no matter what).
“Well, you see, I…n-nevermind, Conrad! I’ll uh…see you later!”
ooooooo
Yuuri finally stopped against a wall, controlling his breath to a steady flow. He had run so far and over such a long distance…but what was he running from? The concept of having sex with Ken? Why was it so disturbing to him?
“I just don’t understand anything anymore…” He moaned to himself, face in hands. Tears were just waiting to flow down, but he fought them off, making sure to not end up sobbing hysterically. For what reason, even he did not know…
A soft whisper sounded beside him. “Shibuya…?” His head jerked up. I recognize that voice… Frightened, he slowly turned towards the other, and was confronted with the pillar of his problems: Ken Murata, innocently staring at him, head tilted just slightly, innocence all written into his solid dark eyes, behind those adorably dorky glasses, and oh shit Wolfram was right.
They were all right! Everyone who had mentioned about how close he and The Great Sage were completely right, he had simply been too stubborn to admit the truth… Sobbing hysterically, Yuuri buried his head into Murata’s shoulder, not caring if the tears leaked onto his shirt. Murata rose a hesitant hand to his back, and softly coaxed him; calmed him through barely stroking his back and murmuring soothing words of reassurance, no matter how fake they sounded.
ooooooo
Shortly after Yuuri’s emotional breakdown, the sage had led him to Murata’s own bedchambers, still slightly worried at the occasional sniffle, and the vaguely-puffy, slightly-bloodshot eyes. It was very unorthodox for Yuuri to simply bawl like that, and he had a vague idea--although it felt more as of “wishful thinking”.
“Shibuya?” He peered at the forlorn king through his bangs, offering a small cup of hot cocoa. It helped to calm his own nerves, perhaps it would help Shibuya as well…
“Please, Murata. I have to tell Conrad to just call me “Yuuri”, do I have to tell you too?”
“Then go ahead and call me Ken.” He chuckled warmly as Yuuri took a sip of the cocoa, and nearly choked on how hot it was. “Should I have warned you; it’s quite hot, very fresh.” He leaned a bit closer, and fanned the heat waves to a minimum, blowing at it barely. He made it a point to not look up at Yuuri, lest he do something…foolish.
That feeling, deep within the pits of his stomach, like a lawnmower going over sand, or a cat scratching at raw stone; that horrid, shuddering feeling that jangled and jarred through your system, leaving you quaking and craving for more--this emotion piled within Yuuri, and he gnashed his teeth against any words to be spewed from his mouth.
Murata waited a few minutes in the silence and peace, before speaking again. “Shi--Yuuri…what’s troubling you?” Do you want me to worry so?
Yuuri had been mentally combating the beast within him, and almost lost the battle because Murata had spoken. “Huh?” was the best response he could come up with in such a short amount of time, included with agape-mouth and the innocently confused eyes.
Another laugh came from Murata; oh how childish his king could be. “I asked what’s bothering you.”
The mood suddenly became much more serious, and Yuuri just wished for the carefree emotions to magically float back inside beside them. Heartfelt emotions were hard to deal with…when the one they were about, was seated right next to you.
“I…can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“…” He was afraid, so very afraid to tell the other of his own plights; his curse, to call it. Love was not to be taken lightly, which he learned valuably from the initial separation of him and Wolfram. “It’s something…confidential. So confidential, I can’t let you or Conrad know…”
“Are we so untrustworthy?”
Alarmed, Yuuri’s head jerked back in Murata’s general direction. His eyes widened as he near-yelled, “No; that’s not it at all! It’s only me… I’m just scared of what any recurrences of my actions will be… how could I have…”
Hurriedly, Murata again soothed the Maou, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s stomach loosely. “Yuuri,” the sound of his voice so close to his ear was breathtaking, and Yuuri trembled slightly, “Whatever it is you are involved in; no matter what it is…you’ll always be accepted. You know that…I know that…Conrad knows that…”
“But I…”
“Just tell me, Yuuri.”
And Yuuri broke. All previous insecurities of his affections for the Sage were vanquished quickly, and only let him with a burning, raw need that was rapidly taking him over. He was quite glad for Murata’s distance, as Yuuri may have scared the other off with how much passion was enveloped in his own eyes.
“Murata…you need to let go of me soon…” He tried to warn, but Murata was beginning to collapse against his shoulder, arms tightening around Yuuri’s midsection. His hair was limping against his forehead; eyes slowly shutting. Murata…was falling asleep.
“You need to wake up, Ken.” Murata mumbled something incomprehensible into his shoulder. “Ken…really, wake up.” Yuuri growled and nudged at his companion, softly shifting him around until Murata’s glasses accidentally fell off. “Ken…if you don’t wake up, I have to do something drastic. Very drastic, and you may not wish to be near--”
As swift as the wind, Murata had his own mouth clamped over Yuuri’s; soft, but tinted with a hidden intention. He drew back, those mischievous dark eyes glinting so darkly and…sinisterly. “You couldn’t possibly have imagined me to be quite as dense as yourself, Heika.”
Everything simply melded from there. Ken was fumbling clumsily with the buttons on his and Yuuri’s outfits, sweat pooling down his forehead. He shook his head wildly in an almost animalistic way, and licked at his now-quite salty lips.
It was the most erotic thing Yuuri had ever seen. True, he hadn’t seen much, but there was that one time back in 7th grade with the--
Ken could see that Yuuri was distracted and clamped himself onto the nearest available piece of skin available--Yuuri’s jaw. A trembling gasp hummed through Yuuri, vibrating against Ken’s hot, slick mouth. He gasped as the last button accidentally snapped off, and Ken was given free access to yet more Yuuri-skin.
A brief interlude came through as Yuuri gently massaged the skin beneath Ken’s glasses, them carefully carelessly flung to the soft carpet floor. Naught a word had been spoken, and Ken finally uttered a thick, “Yuuri…”. They were both quite aware of what was to occur, and he needed reassurance. A steady gaze, and those gentle, caressing hands to abruptly drag them together once again, was all that he needed.
ooooooo
“Mission accomplished, sir.” An unruly-haired soldier saluted, the frills in his dark blue uniform bouncing in the wind. His eyes were unblinking, even as the blonde mazoku dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Wolfram grinned connivingly, opening the maryoku-powered camera linked to Yuuri’s bedroom once again. He began laughing softly, but it steadily gained volume until it was a rather maddened level, his head thrown back and still cackling. Perhaps it was the recent influence of Yozak, or the relationship between himself and Conrad, that had warped him so.
…or perhaps it was simply payback time for Yuuri.
Author/Artist: Me. byakuya_chan
Pairing: MurataxYuuri, hints of ConradxWolfram (INCEST. <33).
Rating: T+ (OT?) for make-out scene, to the best of my abilities
Genre: Romance
Chapter: 3/27.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou!
Author's Ramblings: This wasn't the intentional 3rd fanfic I was working on, but same difference. A fic is a fic is a fic is a fic.
Important Notes: Hints of incest, kind of lime-ish, slightlyebol!Wolfram. X-posted to kkm_yaoi, kyou_kara_maou, and murata_x_yuuri
It all began with a simple, unrelated dream of vagueities and completely unorthodox. Gripping, straining, shoving, breathing, all so undistinguishable. He could not feel more than the brush of bangs by his cheek, the whisper of newcomings beside his ear, and a warmth irresistible.
Please tell me, what is it that I dream of?
ooooooo
“You write a lot in your journal.” Half-hearted, Wolfram scrolled through the faded, ragged, simple black journal, completely ignoring Yuuri’s shouts of indignancy. He chuckled to himself at a particularly amusing entry (“Oh, I remember when this happened…”) and kept a flailing Yuuri just barely out of reach. “What’s this of dreams, Yuuri?”
“Mmppgmh!”
“I can’t understand you; speak up.”
Yuuri bit at Wolfram’s hand. “It’s about this weird dream I’ve been having lately. I’m not sure what it’s about even, it’s just…there’s this immense, comforting heat around him, and darkness, and that’s all I can distinguish. I also hear the clink of metal, like glasses or something,” a slight twitch went through Wolfram, “but I’m not sure…”
Wolfram sighed. He idly considered punching Yuuri for being such a dunce--after their initial break-up, he thought he’d never recover, but here the two of them were, conversing civilly. “What do you think it is?” He spoke quietly, as the conversation had drastically taken a darker turn, one that should not be discussed outside these oaken doors. Wolfram fiddled with his ear--like how the residents of Earth would sort of rub their nose--and stared at Yuuri sternly.
“Uhm…” He wasn’t entirely comfortable with confiding in Wolfram about this, but he most certainly couldn’t confide to Conrad, or Murata, so he’d best live with it. “I think it’s like…meandsomeonehavingsexmaybeIdon’treallyknowit’sjustaguessbutIreallythinkitis.”
“Could you repeat that in a language I can understand?”
“I think it’s…m-me and someone…having…”
“Maritals?”
Yuuri nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah. That. I’m just guessing at it, and I’m not intelligent like you and Murata, but…”
“Do you believe it is Ken?”
“Wh-what?! No! Murata’s my best friend--I could never do th-that with him!”
“Why not?”
His mouth opened quickly, stayed as that for a few seconds, then slowly shut. Truth be told, Yuuri wasn’t sure why; the proposition of having sex with Murata was an entity all to itself. “I-I…er…” He settled with a maddened blush, and dashing out the room, screaming his apologies loudly.
“So so dense…”
ooooooo
“Heika, is there something on your mind?”
“No, no; I’m fine Conrad…really.” Conrad already worried enough, and had many issues; he needn’t anymore because his dear Heika was questioning the relationship between himself and Ken Murata.
Conrad’s warm hand landed softly on his shoulder, concern embedded in his gaze. “Heika…you may tell me whatever you like--anything at all. Is it about a love interest of yours?” His gaze was unwavering, not changing in the slightest at the prospect of Yuuri emotionally liking someone as more than a friend (as Yuuri considered everyone “friends”, no matter what).
“Well, you see, I…n-nevermind, Conrad! I’ll uh…see you later!”
ooooooo
Yuuri finally stopped against a wall, controlling his breath to a steady flow. He had run so far and over such a long distance…but what was he running from? The concept of having sex with Ken? Why was it so disturbing to him?
“I just don’t understand anything anymore…” He moaned to himself, face in hands. Tears were just waiting to flow down, but he fought them off, making sure to not end up sobbing hysterically. For what reason, even he did not know…
A soft whisper sounded beside him. “Shibuya…?” His head jerked up. I recognize that voice… Frightened, he slowly turned towards the other, and was confronted with the pillar of his problems: Ken Murata, innocently staring at him, head tilted just slightly, innocence all written into his solid dark eyes, behind those adorably dorky glasses, and oh shit Wolfram was right.
They were all right! Everyone who had mentioned about how close he and The Great Sage were completely right, he had simply been too stubborn to admit the truth… Sobbing hysterically, Yuuri buried his head into Murata’s shoulder, not caring if the tears leaked onto his shirt. Murata rose a hesitant hand to his back, and softly coaxed him; calmed him through barely stroking his back and murmuring soothing words of reassurance, no matter how fake they sounded.
ooooooo
Shortly after Yuuri’s emotional breakdown, the sage had led him to Murata’s own bedchambers, still slightly worried at the occasional sniffle, and the vaguely-puffy, slightly-bloodshot eyes. It was very unorthodox for Yuuri to simply bawl like that, and he had a vague idea--although it felt more as of “wishful thinking”.
“Shibuya?” He peered at the forlorn king through his bangs, offering a small cup of hot cocoa. It helped to calm his own nerves, perhaps it would help Shibuya as well…
“Please, Murata. I have to tell Conrad to just call me “Yuuri”, do I have to tell you too?”
“Then go ahead and call me Ken.” He chuckled warmly as Yuuri took a sip of the cocoa, and nearly choked on how hot it was. “Should I have warned you; it’s quite hot, very fresh.” He leaned a bit closer, and fanned the heat waves to a minimum, blowing at it barely. He made it a point to not look up at Yuuri, lest he do something…foolish.
That feeling, deep within the pits of his stomach, like a lawnmower going over sand, or a cat scratching at raw stone; that horrid, shuddering feeling that jangled and jarred through your system, leaving you quaking and craving for more--this emotion piled within Yuuri, and he gnashed his teeth against any words to be spewed from his mouth.
Murata waited a few minutes in the silence and peace, before speaking again. “Shi--Yuuri…what’s troubling you?” Do you want me to worry so?
Yuuri had been mentally combating the beast within him, and almost lost the battle because Murata had spoken. “Huh?” was the best response he could come up with in such a short amount of time, included with agape-mouth and the innocently confused eyes.
Another laugh came from Murata; oh how childish his king could be. “I asked what’s bothering you.”
The mood suddenly became much more serious, and Yuuri just wished for the carefree emotions to magically float back inside beside them. Heartfelt emotions were hard to deal with…when the one they were about, was seated right next to you.
“I…can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“…” He was afraid, so very afraid to tell the other of his own plights; his curse, to call it. Love was not to be taken lightly, which he learned valuably from the initial separation of him and Wolfram. “It’s something…confidential. So confidential, I can’t let you or Conrad know…”
“Are we so untrustworthy?”
Alarmed, Yuuri’s head jerked back in Murata’s general direction. His eyes widened as he near-yelled, “No; that’s not it at all! It’s only me… I’m just scared of what any recurrences of my actions will be… how could I have…”
Hurriedly, Murata again soothed the Maou, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s stomach loosely. “Yuuri,” the sound of his voice so close to his ear was breathtaking, and Yuuri trembled slightly, “Whatever it is you are involved in; no matter what it is…you’ll always be accepted. You know that…I know that…Conrad knows that…”
“But I…”
“Just tell me, Yuuri.”
And Yuuri broke. All previous insecurities of his affections for the Sage were vanquished quickly, and only let him with a burning, raw need that was rapidly taking him over. He was quite glad for Murata’s distance, as Yuuri may have scared the other off with how much passion was enveloped in his own eyes.
“Murata…you need to let go of me soon…” He tried to warn, but Murata was beginning to collapse against his shoulder, arms tightening around Yuuri’s midsection. His hair was limping against his forehead; eyes slowly shutting. Murata…was falling asleep.
“You need to wake up, Ken.” Murata mumbled something incomprehensible into his shoulder. “Ken…really, wake up.” Yuuri growled and nudged at his companion, softly shifting him around until Murata’s glasses accidentally fell off. “Ken…if you don’t wake up, I have to do something drastic. Very drastic, and you may not wish to be near--”
As swift as the wind, Murata had his own mouth clamped over Yuuri’s; soft, but tinted with a hidden intention. He drew back, those mischievous dark eyes glinting so darkly and…sinisterly. “You couldn’t possibly have imagined me to be quite as dense as yourself, Heika.”
Everything simply melded from there. Ken was fumbling clumsily with the buttons on his and Yuuri’s outfits, sweat pooling down his forehead. He shook his head wildly in an almost animalistic way, and licked at his now-quite salty lips.
It was the most erotic thing Yuuri had ever seen. True, he hadn’t seen much, but there was that one time back in 7th grade with the--
Ken could see that Yuuri was distracted and clamped himself onto the nearest available piece of skin available--Yuuri’s jaw. A trembling gasp hummed through Yuuri, vibrating against Ken’s hot, slick mouth. He gasped as the last button accidentally snapped off, and Ken was given free access to yet more Yuuri-skin.
A brief interlude came through as Yuuri gently massaged the skin beneath Ken’s glasses, them carefully carelessly flung to the soft carpet floor. Naught a word had been spoken, and Ken finally uttered a thick, “Yuuri…”. They were both quite aware of what was to occur, and he needed reassurance. A steady gaze, and those gentle, caressing hands to abruptly drag them together once again, was all that he needed.
ooooooo
“Mission accomplished, sir.” An unruly-haired soldier saluted, the frills in his dark blue uniform bouncing in the wind. His eyes were unblinking, even as the blonde mazoku dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Wolfram grinned connivingly, opening the maryoku-powered camera linked to Yuuri’s bedroom once again. He began laughing softly, but it steadily gained volume until it was a rather maddened level, his head thrown back and still cackling. Perhaps it was the recent influence of Yozak, or the relationship between himself and Conrad, that had warped him so.
…or perhaps it was simply payback time for Yuuri.