Unforgivable-- Chapter IV
Title: Unforgivable
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Issues of rape, dubious consent
Overall warnings: Angst, violence, incest, dubious consent, statutory rape, issues of rape
Spoilers: Through season 2.
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou! and related characters, situations, etc. belong to Tomo Takabayashi and various other people/companies, none of whom are me. This is a fan work; no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's been seven years since Yuuri became the Demon King, proposed to Wolfram, and adopted Greta. When the relationship between Yuuri and Wolfram begins to shift, and Greta is attacked, everything changes and old wounds are exposed.
Part: 4/?
Chapter IV
Greta was more or less unpacked into Yuuri's old room, and Yuuri had gone downstairs to talk to his parents once again. For someone who thought this was a Great Idea, he seemed to Wolfram to be rather anxious about it. Wolfram himself was worried, but the feeling was mostly buried under the constant, smoldering anger throughout his whole body.
He knew he made it difficult to be around him-- that Yuuri was afraid of him and Gwendal was worried about him and Weller had wasted no time in appointing himself the person Yuuri could talk to-- but there wasn't much he could do about any of that, so he tried not to care. What he did care about was Greta's safety, and leaving her here felt wrong. How could she be safe if he wasn't there to protect her? But he hadn't protected her, he reminded himself. When she'd needed him, he'd been too busy making a fool of himself over Yuuri.
He wondered if the people who did this had somehow known that Yuuri would announce the wedding that night. Because usually, even at such a large formal event, Wolfram would have kept one small part of his attention on keeping track of their daughter, knowing where in the crowd she was. He even knew, usually, when she slipped out to head off to bed, and would make sure a guard followed her. Neither Greta nor Yuuri knew this, of course, and he always had to punish her the next day. He knew how hard it was to keep all that up for hours on end, but she had to learn, as he had.
Twice, maybe three times at the most, Wolfram had lost track of Greta. Three times in seven years. And after each incident, even if she had just run off in the marketplace, it scared him half to death and he was more protective than ever, smothering her for days until she started to complain. But at that party... He and Yuuri had both noticed she was missing, didn't know where she was for hours, and had done nothing.
"Wolfram?" Greta's voice behind him. He turned from the window to find her closer than she would usually come of her own volition. He raised his eyebrows in question. She swallowed, blushed, looked away. "I'm staying here 'until the threat is over', right?" He nodded. "So that means after they're--" She stopped abruptly and looked up at him.
"They'll be dealt with," he said quietly.
"Yes, but--" She stopped again, clenching her jaw. She was breathing hard. Then she burst out, "But you'll kill them, won't you? Even if Yuuri..."
Wolfram looked at her for a moment, unsure whether or not he should answer. Of course he was going to do what he could to make sure that someone suffered for this. But if he started to tell her that, if he started to talk about what he wanted to do--
He was saved when Yuuri appeared in the doorway, all smiles as if they both didn't know how he was really feeling. Greta stepped quickly away from Wolfram, then covered up the movement by walking over to her trunk and rearranging things that were probably perfectly in order.
"We should go," said Yuuri. He held out his arms to Greta, and after a moment's hesitation, she came slowly over and into the embrace. "We'll be back in a few days," he said, squeezing her until she squeezed back. She nodded as he let her go, but said nothing. "Come on," Yuuri said to Wolfram
But as he followed Yuuri out, Greta reached out as he passed and touched Wolfram's arm, so lightly he barely felt it. He turned to her in surprise, and saw her face tense, eyes wide and questioning.
He nodded.
And then, suddenly, she was hugging him. Wolfram caught his breath. She hadn't done this in so long... So long that everything had changed. She wasn't just taller... Her body had quietly rearranged itself. Holding her tightly, he felt like crying. It was one thing to see that she'd grown up, but it was quite another to feel it. It wasn't just the tricks of cleverly-tailored dresses-- Greta was a woman.
But she still loved him. Because here she was, her face in his neck-- he realized she was almost as tall as Yuuri, though the way she fit against him was very different-- and she was hugging him again, and even though he hated-- hated-- that it had taken something like this to make her do it, he was grateful all the same.
"I will, I promise," he whispered in her ear.
"Thank you," she whispered back. Then she drew away, face red and eyes on the floor. Wolfram didn't trust himself to speak again, so he turned back to Yuuri, who was looking on from the hall and gave a brief smile before turning away to head downstairs.
* * *
Yuuri didn't know what had passed between Wolfram and Greta that had caused her to throw her arms around him like that all of the sudden, but he didn't ask. In any case, it seemed to have calmed Wolfram somewhat. Either that, or he had decided at last to trust Yuuri that Japan was the safest place for her, which seemed unlikely. Yuuri was calmer, too-- or rather, less numb-- because he did believe she would be safe. After all, even putting aside the sheer impossibility of someone else being able to travel between the two worlds, Shouri was the Demon King now, which made him the only person on Earth able to use magic.
And it was a relief, though he hated to admit it, not to have to be around Greta, not to have to wonder how to act, not to be reminded of his own inability to help her. In fact, as the days passed, Yuuri found there were whole hours in which he didn't think at all about what had happened. It made him feel like a terrible father, but he couldn't say that he wasn't grateful for those small periods of peace.
He was grateful, too, for Wolfram's presence, because even though during the day there was this strange distance lingering between them, these boundaries they'd set up to protect themselves, to separate themselves as if the pain wouldn't be so bad if they didn't have to take care of the other... It all seemed to fall away at night, and they often fell asleep curled up together.
On one such night, Yuuri woke to his husband shivering beside him. Wolfram seemed still to be asleep, so Yuuri got up to shut the window against the chill of the waning summer. As he rose, Wolfram stirred and blinked sleepily before rolling over and pulling the blankets up to cover his shoulder, which, as always, had been left exposed by the wide neck of his nightgown. No wonder he was cold.
As Yuuri crossed the room and opened the curtains, he pondered once again the paradox that was Wolfram and his lacy pink sleepwear. The more Yuuri got to know Wolfram, and the more he learned that the rules of what was masculine or feminine were not so different in this world than on Earth, the more that nightgown confused him. Not only was it feminine, playing up the delicacy of Wolfram's features and the resemblance to his mother that Yuuri knew he hated, but it was also just plain impractical.
And not overly dignified, either, judging by the look on Wolfram's face when Greta had announced at breakfast one day, in front of a party of guests, that she wanted a pretty pink nightgown just like the one Wolfram had. Yuuri had nearly choked on his orange juice then, and he couldn't help chuckling now, as he slid the window down with a small bang and turned back to the bed.
Wolfram was watching him, smiling faintly. "What are you laughing about, Wimp?"
Yuuri grinned back. "I was just thinking of the time Greta said she wanted a nightgown like yours--"
He stopped. Even in the weak moonlight he could see Wolfram's expression had hardened.
"That wasn't funny," Wolfram growled, and rolled over again, tugging the blankets up over his head.
"Oh, come on." Yuuri tried to slide into bed next to him, but Wolfram wouldn't give him any of the covers. He sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry I made fun of you."
His husband sat up suddenly, his cheeks tinged pink and mouth twisted in a scowl. "That's not--" He looked away, took a deep breath. "Never mind; you don't understand anything. Let's just go to sleep."
Yuuri would have liked to just go to sleep, he really would, but experience had taught him that in this kind of situation it was best to force Wolfram to talk. "No, what don't I understand? Just tell me."
Wolfram sat back up, as Yuuri had known he would, ready to yell now that Yuuri had asked for it.
"It wasn't that everyone found out what I wear to bed, Yuuri. It wasn't even that you laughed at me, which meant everyone else had to laugh at me, too. It was that everyone knew why I was wearing it."
Yuuri frowned. "Why do you wear it?"
His husband stared at him for a moment, seething, before growling, "It's for you, you idiot."
"What?"
"It was rumors before that, just maids' gossip that I slept in your bed and dressed as a woman at night. But you know what you showed everyone that morning, Yuuri?"
Yuuri was too stunned, too horrified, to think, let alone answer.
Wolfram leaned in. "First," he hissed. "That I was giving you everything already, before a wedding was even being spoken of."
Yuuri opened his mouth to protest. After all, it was Wolfram who'd forced his way into Yuuri's bed, but he was cut off.
"Second, that you were using me, that what you really wanted wasn't me at all but you were keeping me, with no intention of marrying me, as some kind of toy."
"Wolfram, I--"
"THIRD, that you were so quick to humiliate me in front of the whole court, in front of my relatives and foreign nobles I'd never met before-- Yuuri, you showed them I was nothing to you."
He stared at Yuuri a few moments more, breathing heavily, while Yuuri looked back miserably, at a loss for what to say. Then Wolfram looked away and said, "Sorry. That was a long time ago. You didn't know what you were doing."
"I had no idea," Yuuri agreed. "I'm so sorry... But-- Wolfram, if it was that terrible-- How did you put up with me?"
Wolfram smiled sadly, still not looking at him. "I almost left that night. I'd been waiting almost three years for you, after all. Common sense, not to mention everyone else, told me I should give up. I guess I did, in a way, because that was when I stopped waiting." He paused, and Yuuri thought he would die of guilt. "...But I sat there with my paper and pen, trying to start a letter to my uncle to tell him I would be coming back to Belefield... and I couldn't make myself do it." He looked up. "Then you and Greta came in, and showed me how you'd gotten the maids to make her a nightgown like mine, and she was so proud of it, and you were trying so hard to make everyone happy..."
Yuuri remembered that evening, suddenly recalling that Wolfram had seemed sad, a little distant. And how Greta had beamed and jumped up and down on their bed in excitement, so pleased to be able to imitate her father.
"I decided," Wolfram continued quietly, "that even if you were never going to look at me the way I wanted you to, we were still a family, just like you said, and..." He trailed off. Yuuri reached out to take his hand, but Wolfram twisted away in that clever way he had that made it look entirely unintentional, except that Yuuri had lived with him for seven years and knew most of his little tricks by now. Still, he wasn't going to comment on it, especially when Wolfram suddenly grinned and launched right into, "But I won after all, didn't I? I got you to marry me."
Yuuri couldn't help giving in, letting guilt over the past slide away, as Wolfram had intended. "Yeah," he said, grinning back.
They looked at each other a few moments more before Wolfram raised his eyebrows. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Aren't you going to tell me to get rid of it? Because even though I look stunning no matter what I wear, you've always sort of hated this thing because it doesn't suit me and you want me for what I am?" Wolfram was still smiling, but there was something else, too, a hint, maybe, of fear, hidden in his expression.
"I did think it was weird," Yuuri answered carefully, "but how was I supposed to know it wasn't what you'd always worn to bed?"
Wolfram smirked, the uncertainty vanishing. "Wimp." And Yuuri could see that smirk begin to twitch, threatening to break once more into a full grin, though his husband turned his back to hide it. And Yuuri could tell, too, just by his posture, how relieved he was.
It made him feel terrible. If Wolfram was this happy to be able to take the nightgown off, how much must it have cost him to put it on? And what else had he quietly suffered and sacrificed for Yuuri?
But then Wolfram actually was slipping the silk over his head and suddenly all Yuuri could think about was how much he wanted to touch that bare skin. He still remembered how it felt from those few nights, several years ago now, when Yuuri had taken care of Wolfram when he was sick, re-dipping the wet cloths into cold water far more often than necessary because he was so afraid, so desperate to calm the strange fever that his magic couldn't cure.
Yuuri could feel, even at a careful distance, that Wolfram's skin was almost as hot now as it was then. He wondered if he would be allowed...
* * *
Trying to will his mouth into some shape other than this ridiculous grin, Wolfram folded the nightgown in his lap. Truth be told, he'd long since stopped thinking about it. It had become nothing more than a habit over the years, part of his life. It was a simple fact that this was what he wore to bed when he slept with Yuuri. But from now on he would be doing a very different kind of sleeping with Yuuri-- a much, much better kind of sleeping with Yuuri.
Speaking of which, the wimp seemed to have noticed that he was naked.
"Your hands are cold," Wolfram complained happily.
"You're overheated," Yuuri countered, sliding said hands down from his shoulders to around his waist.
This may have been true, but it was only because he was so light-headedly giddy, which was entirely Yuuri's fault.
And Yuuri's mouth was warm on Wolfram's shoulder, his tongue--
Wolfram laughed. "You're always licking me."
His husband stopped. "Is that okay?"
"I'll allow it," he replied, though the last syllable was lost in a shudder at Yuuri's hot breath by his ear. Then the other boy moved forward, or pulled Wolfram back, and he could feel Yuuri's arousal, and, God, he wanted--
But he really hadn't meant to start anything like this. Even as he twisted around to seize Yuuri's hair and tug him into a kiss, he forced himself to think.
It still seemed wrong, somehow, with everything that was happening with Greta. It had been Yuuri that had distracted him at the ball and things like this that kept them from noticing that something was terribly wrong for two whole weeks...
Yuuri made a soft, desperate little noise into Wolfram's mouth.
But Wolfram had wanted this for so long. He'd held himself back even when he'd thought it must be killing him, and even after knowing that he could have it, still, he'd held so tightly on to that self-control, because it was all he had. So long...
But that was exactly why he had to stop this. He had to pull away, again, because after all that waiting he would never forgive himself if it was anything less than perfect.
So Wolfram broke the kiss to shake his head. "We can't do this now, not tonight."
"Why?" the wimp groaned.
"Because..." Wolfram didn't finish. Yuuri had moved his attentions to Wolfram's neck, that single spot at the base of his jaw that he knew made Wolfram--
"That's... That's not fair," Wolfram breathed, bowing his head and leaning into the movement of Yuuri's tongue. It felt so good...
No. Wolfram struggled to get a hold of himself. He could stop this.
Oh, but it was difficult. Yuuri was hot against him, his mouth even hotter, and he wanted Wolfram. Wolfram's hip was already damp where Yuuri brushed against him through his pajamas, and it was all he could do not to turn around completely and press himself against that heat.
But he was too aware that he was naked and Yuuri was not, and that right now he was sitting still, passive, while Yuuri kissed him. Then Wolfram remembered the last time he had felt like this-- utterly powerless against his own body and what was happening to it...
And he was damned if he was going to let the wimp make Wolfram hate him.
So before Yuuri could clumsily do something stupid and unforgivable, Wolfram pushed, and in a second had him pinned to the mattress. Dark eyes flew wide, then closed again as Wolfram unbuttoned his husband's pajama bottoms. "Wolf--"
He wanted to make Yuuri understand. Cruelly, he wanted to make Yuuri feel what he'd felt just now. So it was with the barest of touches that he freed Yuuri's erection, making the other boy gasp breathlessly and open his eyes once more to look up at him.
Wolfram didn't dare take his gaze off of Yuuri's face, didn't want to see how close they were--
Yuuri tried to move, but Wolfram was too quick and held him down.
"Please," Yuuri breathed. "Wolfram..."
Yuuri didn't understand. Yuuri would never understand. He didn't have to worry about self-discipline or dignity because everything he wanted came so easily and everyone already respected him. It wasn't costing him anything to beg, to lie still beneath Wolfram, to give up all control.
Which was terrifying. Wolfram sat up, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Not tonight," he said again.
Yuuri's eyes went wide, and he sat up, too. "What? You can't--"
But Wolfram was already standing up, blocking out Yuuri's pained voice and moving as quickly as he could to fish out one of his husband's pairs of pajama bottoms and hastily pull them on because at least then he wasn't naked anymore--
He turned back, and immediately regretted it. Yuuri-- his adorable, innocent, Yuuri-- was still watching him from where he knelt at the edge of the bed and this time Wolfram had failed to avert his eyes and he saw how hard he was, and dripping...
It was precisely because of the way Wolfram wanted so much to go to him, the way every inch of his body screamed for it, the way he found he'd taken several steps forward without realizing it, the way his mouth watered and his own cock throbbed and his heart was breaking just to see the look of frustrated need on Yuuri's face-- It was because of all this that Wolfram knew, even as Yuuri stood to meet him, that he had to get out of here.
He didn't run. He didn't need to. The door he wanted was only a few steps away, and before Yuuri had time to react, he was already closing it behind him.
"Wait! Wolfram!" The wimp's desperate voice, almost breaking as he pounded on the door. "At least tell me why! Why?"
Wolfram was quiet while Yuuri waited for an answer. He leant against the door and hoped the High King wouldn't think to realize that the door between his bedroom and the little passageway to his bath only locked from the inside. He listened, and after a moment, heard his husband sigh thickly-- almost tearfully-- and slump heavily against the barrier, then slide down to the floor. Wolfram hesitated, then silently sat down as well, tried to catch his breath, tried to think...
And that sigh had been so sad, the look on Yuuri's face so anguished, that when the small gasps began to leak through the door, Wolfram thought at first that Yuuri was crying. But those wet sounds were definitely not tears...
Wolfram's head reeled. His cock twitched. He braced his head in his hands to keep them from wandering. What Yuuri was doing... It was something Wolfram allowed himself only when he was in great pain, and he inevitably felt dirty afterward. But here Yuuri was, and taking his time about it, and thinking of him and--
And if he could sit here and listen to Yuuri bring himself off over him, and resist the urge to throw open this door and consummate their marriage right there on the floor, then, even if Wolfram had to touch himself, that would be some proof that he was still in control, that he hadn't given quite everything away.
So he stayed, and he listened, and he wondered what Yuuri was thinking about, what they were doing in his fantasy that made him make those sweet little sounds, and he thought about how much louder he could make Yuuri moan, when he got the chance... and he stroked himself slowly, stifling his own breath against his knee.
At first he tried to match Yuuri's pace, but it became too difficult after only a few minutes to hear something so subtle over the thrumming of his pulse. And, anyway, Wolfram had to be silent, and he had to be slow. He closed his eyes, thought of what Yuuri must look like right now, all flushed and wet...
Suddenly, Wolfram became aware that Yuuri was very close to finishing. He stopped his hand for a moment, as much to prove that he could as to focus all of his consciousness on listening, pressing his ear up against the door for that extra bit of volume.
He'd been right-- Yuuri began to sound like he was choking on his own breath, the noise of his movements grew louder and more frantic-- then he gave a truly undignified, strangled little gasp--
It was the most beautiful sound Wolfram had ever heard. He resolved immediately that the next time Yuuri made that noise it would be right up against his ear, and Wolfram would feel the damp air full of it and the halting movements of his chest and he would watch his face and hold him while he shook...
Wolfram's eyes watered from the effort of keeping still and smothering his own harsh breathing with a hand that smelled of himself and, he imagined, of Yuuri from that quick touch only minutes ago. He bit his palm, still listening, still hungry, as Yuuri's panting began to slow.
* * *
It was dark yet, but the birds were beginning to chatter and Wolfram still hadn't come back. Which meant that Yuuri hadn't slept. Instead, he was just lying here, and waiting, and wondering, and generally feeling terrible about everything. But that was appropriate because Greta hadn't stopped being miserable, and Wolfram apparently hadn't stopped being angry, and so Yuuri wouldn't stop being guilty. And there were so many things to feel guilty about!
He hadn't listened. Wolfram had told him to stop and he hadn't listened. He never listened to either of them, not nearly enough. He spent time with Greta, but not quite every day, and he talked to her and asked her questions but somehow he never really saw anything beyond what he wanted to see-- the little eight-year-old girl he'd taken in, so grateful just to be loved, needing nothing but him-- and he didn't bother to notice how she was slowly changing, and so, inevitably, the person she was turning into was someone he didn't really know. And she'd been suffering so badly, so alone, for two weeks while Yuuri not only didn't see it, but prevented Wolfram from seeing it either. And how Wolfram had kept pushing him away! Again and again, and Yuuri hadn't listened, hadn't learned, had kept trying because he'd been so sure that Wolfram wanted Yuuri as badly as Yuuri wanted him.
But maybe he didn't. Would Yuuri really notice if, somewhere along the way, Wolfram had lost interest? If, after getting a taste of Yuuri, he'd found it wasn't what he wanted and was only still here out of duty and friendship? After all, Yuuri hadn't realized the strength of his fiancé's feelings for so many years... If he didn't notice when Wolfram's attachment had intensified, why should he notice when it faded?
And the last thing Yuuri wanted was for Wolfram to make any more sacrifices for him.
So why had he pushed? Why had he begged? He was so selfish! A selfish wimp, oblivious to so many things around him and the people that mattered most, oblivious even to himself, because even though he tried not to think about it, the more he heard people talking about being in love (and there had been a lot of that surrounding the wedding), the more it sounded uncomfortably familiar, the more it seemed to describe how he felt, which would imply--
Yuuri's attention focused abruptly as he heard the door from the bath.
That door! And what he'd done right there... He closed his eyes and lay still, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks and calm the sudden pounding of his heart. After a few minutes, he became aware of the scent of fresh soap and steam, and when a warm drop of water hit his cheek, Yuuri was forced to open his eyes.
Wolfram was standing over him, of course, looking down at him, and now running a hand through his hair, pushing aside the bangs that had dripped onto Yuuri. He was wearing a robe from the bath, one of the long ones that went nearly to the ankle. Yuuri wondered if his husband felt he had to protect himself, and it made him feel sick.
"You're not even angry, are you?" Wolfram said, after a moment. Yuuri couldn't read his face, as the moon had gone and now the only light was the dim cast of the constant torches out in the main corridor, slipping under their door. It was only enough for a quiet gray-scale of blurred vision.
Yuuri thought about the question, because it had never occurred to him to be angry, but found that the suggestion didn't change his feelings. "Of course not. I was being selfish and I... Oh, Wolfram, I'm so sorry!" He sat up, something that was empty inside him filling up suddenly with everything that Wolfram meant to him. It began to fill up his throat, too, and though he tried to swallow it down, his voice came out thick. "I'm sorry..."
Wolfram turned away. "Me, too," he said quietly, going over to the dresser.
Yuuri watched him open a drawer and take something out. "You... You're not leaving, are you?"
"Don't be stupid." Wolfram glanced at him over his shoulder. "I'm just putting on some clothes. Is that alright with you?"
Stung, and blushing once more, Yuuri fell back against the pillows and rolled over, away from his husband. A few minutes later, the mattress dipped as Wolfram settled down beside him, and Yuuri felt a warm hand on his hip.
How did Wolfram always know just where to touch him? Yuuri never knew what he was doing with Wolfram, kept making mistakes, but the other boy seemed to always sense what was right. He always knew what Yuuri needed, even if he didn't give it. And Yuuri couldn't say, if Wolfram had laid his hand anywhere else, whether he would have felt so instantly reassured. The touch was not enough to lead to Other Things, but just intimate enough to be something only his husband was allowed to do, and to warm Yuuri's whole body.
He moved instinctively towards that touch, towards the one person who could make him feel exactly like this, and had been doing it for so many years. Wolfram pulled him in even closer, and Yuuri could feel his breath on the back of his neck, and the warm damp of his hair. For a few moments he just enjoyed it, until his husband's breathing began to slow and even out, and Yuuri remembered that he had to ask, or he wouldn't get any sleep at all, and he said quietly, "Wolfram, if you don't want..." He didn't actually know how to finish the sentence, so he fell silent, hoping the other boy would know what he meant.
Wolfram shifted slightly, burying his face in between Yuuri's shoulder and the pillow, so that when he spoke the words were so muffled that Yuuri could barely hear him. "'Course I do... Wimp," he muttered, his speech becoming slower and more slurred with each syllable. "Can't remember... not to... in love with you..." And Yuuri suspected that Wolfram had actually fallen asleep before the last few words came out. He wasn't even sure he'd heard right.
Yuuri didn't get to sleep after all.
* * *
Chapter III
Chapter II
Chapter I
On to chapter V
Concrit is much appreciated. <3
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Issues of rape, dubious consent
Overall warnings: Angst, violence, incest, dubious consent, statutory rape, issues of rape
Spoilers: Through season 2.
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou! and related characters, situations, etc. belong to Tomo Takabayashi and various other people/companies, none of whom are me. This is a fan work; no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's been seven years since Yuuri became the Demon King, proposed to Wolfram, and adopted Greta. When the relationship between Yuuri and Wolfram begins to shift, and Greta is attacked, everything changes and old wounds are exposed.
Part: 4/?
Chapter IV
Greta was more or less unpacked into Yuuri's old room, and Yuuri had gone downstairs to talk to his parents once again. For someone who thought this was a Great Idea, he seemed to Wolfram to be rather anxious about it. Wolfram himself was worried, but the feeling was mostly buried under the constant, smoldering anger throughout his whole body.
He knew he made it difficult to be around him-- that Yuuri was afraid of him and Gwendal was worried about him and Weller had wasted no time in appointing himself the person Yuuri could talk to-- but there wasn't much he could do about any of that, so he tried not to care. What he did care about was Greta's safety, and leaving her here felt wrong. How could she be safe if he wasn't there to protect her? But he hadn't protected her, he reminded himself. When she'd needed him, he'd been too busy making a fool of himself over Yuuri.
He wondered if the people who did this had somehow known that Yuuri would announce the wedding that night. Because usually, even at such a large formal event, Wolfram would have kept one small part of his attention on keeping track of their daughter, knowing where in the crowd she was. He even knew, usually, when she slipped out to head off to bed, and would make sure a guard followed her. Neither Greta nor Yuuri knew this, of course, and he always had to punish her the next day. He knew how hard it was to keep all that up for hours on end, but she had to learn, as he had.
Twice, maybe three times at the most, Wolfram had lost track of Greta. Three times in seven years. And after each incident, even if she had just run off in the marketplace, it scared him half to death and he was more protective than ever, smothering her for days until she started to complain. But at that party... He and Yuuri had both noticed she was missing, didn't know where she was for hours, and had done nothing.
"Wolfram?" Greta's voice behind him. He turned from the window to find her closer than she would usually come of her own volition. He raised his eyebrows in question. She swallowed, blushed, looked away. "I'm staying here 'until the threat is over', right?" He nodded. "So that means after they're--" She stopped abruptly and looked up at him.
"They'll be dealt with," he said quietly.
"Yes, but--" She stopped again, clenching her jaw. She was breathing hard. Then she burst out, "But you'll kill them, won't you? Even if Yuuri..."
Wolfram looked at her for a moment, unsure whether or not he should answer. Of course he was going to do what he could to make sure that someone suffered for this. But if he started to tell her that, if he started to talk about what he wanted to do--
He was saved when Yuuri appeared in the doorway, all smiles as if they both didn't know how he was really feeling. Greta stepped quickly away from Wolfram, then covered up the movement by walking over to her trunk and rearranging things that were probably perfectly in order.
"We should go," said Yuuri. He held out his arms to Greta, and after a moment's hesitation, she came slowly over and into the embrace. "We'll be back in a few days," he said, squeezing her until she squeezed back. She nodded as he let her go, but said nothing. "Come on," Yuuri said to Wolfram
But as he followed Yuuri out, Greta reached out as he passed and touched Wolfram's arm, so lightly he barely felt it. He turned to her in surprise, and saw her face tense, eyes wide and questioning.
He nodded.
And then, suddenly, she was hugging him. Wolfram caught his breath. She hadn't done this in so long... So long that everything had changed. She wasn't just taller... Her body had quietly rearranged itself. Holding her tightly, he felt like crying. It was one thing to see that she'd grown up, but it was quite another to feel it. It wasn't just the tricks of cleverly-tailored dresses-- Greta was a woman.
But she still loved him. Because here she was, her face in his neck-- he realized she was almost as tall as Yuuri, though the way she fit against him was very different-- and she was hugging him again, and even though he hated-- hated-- that it had taken something like this to make her do it, he was grateful all the same.
"I will, I promise," he whispered in her ear.
"Thank you," she whispered back. Then she drew away, face red and eyes on the floor. Wolfram didn't trust himself to speak again, so he turned back to Yuuri, who was looking on from the hall and gave a brief smile before turning away to head downstairs.
* * *
Yuuri didn't know what had passed between Wolfram and Greta that had caused her to throw her arms around him like that all of the sudden, but he didn't ask. In any case, it seemed to have calmed Wolfram somewhat. Either that, or he had decided at last to trust Yuuri that Japan was the safest place for her, which seemed unlikely. Yuuri was calmer, too-- or rather, less numb-- because he did believe she would be safe. After all, even putting aside the sheer impossibility of someone else being able to travel between the two worlds, Shouri was the Demon King now, which made him the only person on Earth able to use magic.
And it was a relief, though he hated to admit it, not to have to be around Greta, not to have to wonder how to act, not to be reminded of his own inability to help her. In fact, as the days passed, Yuuri found there were whole hours in which he didn't think at all about what had happened. It made him feel like a terrible father, but he couldn't say that he wasn't grateful for those small periods of peace.
He was grateful, too, for Wolfram's presence, because even though during the day there was this strange distance lingering between them, these boundaries they'd set up to protect themselves, to separate themselves as if the pain wouldn't be so bad if they didn't have to take care of the other... It all seemed to fall away at night, and they often fell asleep curled up together.
On one such night, Yuuri woke to his husband shivering beside him. Wolfram seemed still to be asleep, so Yuuri got up to shut the window against the chill of the waning summer. As he rose, Wolfram stirred and blinked sleepily before rolling over and pulling the blankets up to cover his shoulder, which, as always, had been left exposed by the wide neck of his nightgown. No wonder he was cold.
As Yuuri crossed the room and opened the curtains, he pondered once again the paradox that was Wolfram and his lacy pink sleepwear. The more Yuuri got to know Wolfram, and the more he learned that the rules of what was masculine or feminine were not so different in this world than on Earth, the more that nightgown confused him. Not only was it feminine, playing up the delicacy of Wolfram's features and the resemblance to his mother that Yuuri knew he hated, but it was also just plain impractical.
And not overly dignified, either, judging by the look on Wolfram's face when Greta had announced at breakfast one day, in front of a party of guests, that she wanted a pretty pink nightgown just like the one Wolfram had. Yuuri had nearly choked on his orange juice then, and he couldn't help chuckling now, as he slid the window down with a small bang and turned back to the bed.
Wolfram was watching him, smiling faintly. "What are you laughing about, Wimp?"
Yuuri grinned back. "I was just thinking of the time Greta said she wanted a nightgown like yours--"
He stopped. Even in the weak moonlight he could see Wolfram's expression had hardened.
"That wasn't funny," Wolfram growled, and rolled over again, tugging the blankets up over his head.
"Oh, come on." Yuuri tried to slide into bed next to him, but Wolfram wouldn't give him any of the covers. He sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry I made fun of you."
His husband sat up suddenly, his cheeks tinged pink and mouth twisted in a scowl. "That's not--" He looked away, took a deep breath. "Never mind; you don't understand anything. Let's just go to sleep."
Yuuri would have liked to just go to sleep, he really would, but experience had taught him that in this kind of situation it was best to force Wolfram to talk. "No, what don't I understand? Just tell me."
Wolfram sat back up, as Yuuri had known he would, ready to yell now that Yuuri had asked for it.
"It wasn't that everyone found out what I wear to bed, Yuuri. It wasn't even that you laughed at me, which meant everyone else had to laugh at me, too. It was that everyone knew why I was wearing it."
Yuuri frowned. "Why do you wear it?"
His husband stared at him for a moment, seething, before growling, "It's for you, you idiot."
"What?"
"It was rumors before that, just maids' gossip that I slept in your bed and dressed as a woman at night. But you know what you showed everyone that morning, Yuuri?"
Yuuri was too stunned, too horrified, to think, let alone answer.
Wolfram leaned in. "First," he hissed. "That I was giving you everything already, before a wedding was even being spoken of."
Yuuri opened his mouth to protest. After all, it was Wolfram who'd forced his way into Yuuri's bed, but he was cut off.
"Second, that you were using me, that what you really wanted wasn't me at all but you were keeping me, with no intention of marrying me, as some kind of toy."
"Wolfram, I--"
"THIRD, that you were so quick to humiliate me in front of the whole court, in front of my relatives and foreign nobles I'd never met before-- Yuuri, you showed them I was nothing to you."
He stared at Yuuri a few moments more, breathing heavily, while Yuuri looked back miserably, at a loss for what to say. Then Wolfram looked away and said, "Sorry. That was a long time ago. You didn't know what you were doing."
"I had no idea," Yuuri agreed. "I'm so sorry... But-- Wolfram, if it was that terrible-- How did you put up with me?"
Wolfram smiled sadly, still not looking at him. "I almost left that night. I'd been waiting almost three years for you, after all. Common sense, not to mention everyone else, told me I should give up. I guess I did, in a way, because that was when I stopped waiting." He paused, and Yuuri thought he would die of guilt. "...But I sat there with my paper and pen, trying to start a letter to my uncle to tell him I would be coming back to Belefield... and I couldn't make myself do it." He looked up. "Then you and Greta came in, and showed me how you'd gotten the maids to make her a nightgown like mine, and she was so proud of it, and you were trying so hard to make everyone happy..."
Yuuri remembered that evening, suddenly recalling that Wolfram had seemed sad, a little distant. And how Greta had beamed and jumped up and down on their bed in excitement, so pleased to be able to imitate her father.
"I decided," Wolfram continued quietly, "that even if you were never going to look at me the way I wanted you to, we were still a family, just like you said, and..." He trailed off. Yuuri reached out to take his hand, but Wolfram twisted away in that clever way he had that made it look entirely unintentional, except that Yuuri had lived with him for seven years and knew most of his little tricks by now. Still, he wasn't going to comment on it, especially when Wolfram suddenly grinned and launched right into, "But I won after all, didn't I? I got you to marry me."
Yuuri couldn't help giving in, letting guilt over the past slide away, as Wolfram had intended. "Yeah," he said, grinning back.
They looked at each other a few moments more before Wolfram raised his eyebrows. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Aren't you going to tell me to get rid of it? Because even though I look stunning no matter what I wear, you've always sort of hated this thing because it doesn't suit me and you want me for what I am?" Wolfram was still smiling, but there was something else, too, a hint, maybe, of fear, hidden in his expression.
"I did think it was weird," Yuuri answered carefully, "but how was I supposed to know it wasn't what you'd always worn to bed?"
Wolfram smirked, the uncertainty vanishing. "Wimp." And Yuuri could see that smirk begin to twitch, threatening to break once more into a full grin, though his husband turned his back to hide it. And Yuuri could tell, too, just by his posture, how relieved he was.
It made him feel terrible. If Wolfram was this happy to be able to take the nightgown off, how much must it have cost him to put it on? And what else had he quietly suffered and sacrificed for Yuuri?
But then Wolfram actually was slipping the silk over his head and suddenly all Yuuri could think about was how much he wanted to touch that bare skin. He still remembered how it felt from those few nights, several years ago now, when Yuuri had taken care of Wolfram when he was sick, re-dipping the wet cloths into cold water far more often than necessary because he was so afraid, so desperate to calm the strange fever that his magic couldn't cure.
Yuuri could feel, even at a careful distance, that Wolfram's skin was almost as hot now as it was then. He wondered if he would be allowed...
* * *
Trying to will his mouth into some shape other than this ridiculous grin, Wolfram folded the nightgown in his lap. Truth be told, he'd long since stopped thinking about it. It had become nothing more than a habit over the years, part of his life. It was a simple fact that this was what he wore to bed when he slept with Yuuri. But from now on he would be doing a very different kind of sleeping with Yuuri-- a much, much better kind of sleeping with Yuuri.
Speaking of which, the wimp seemed to have noticed that he was naked.
"Your hands are cold," Wolfram complained happily.
"You're overheated," Yuuri countered, sliding said hands down from his shoulders to around his waist.
This may have been true, but it was only because he was so light-headedly giddy, which was entirely Yuuri's fault.
And Yuuri's mouth was warm on Wolfram's shoulder, his tongue--
Wolfram laughed. "You're always licking me."
His husband stopped. "Is that okay?"
"I'll allow it," he replied, though the last syllable was lost in a shudder at Yuuri's hot breath by his ear. Then the other boy moved forward, or pulled Wolfram back, and he could feel Yuuri's arousal, and, God, he wanted--
But he really hadn't meant to start anything like this. Even as he twisted around to seize Yuuri's hair and tug him into a kiss, he forced himself to think.
It still seemed wrong, somehow, with everything that was happening with Greta. It had been Yuuri that had distracted him at the ball and things like this that kept them from noticing that something was terribly wrong for two whole weeks...
Yuuri made a soft, desperate little noise into Wolfram's mouth.
But Wolfram had wanted this for so long. He'd held himself back even when he'd thought it must be killing him, and even after knowing that he could have it, still, he'd held so tightly on to that self-control, because it was all he had. So long...
But that was exactly why he had to stop this. He had to pull away, again, because after all that waiting he would never forgive himself if it was anything less than perfect.
So Wolfram broke the kiss to shake his head. "We can't do this now, not tonight."
"Why?" the wimp groaned.
"Because..." Wolfram didn't finish. Yuuri had moved his attentions to Wolfram's neck, that single spot at the base of his jaw that he knew made Wolfram--
"That's... That's not fair," Wolfram breathed, bowing his head and leaning into the movement of Yuuri's tongue. It felt so good...
No. Wolfram struggled to get a hold of himself. He could stop this.
Oh, but it was difficult. Yuuri was hot against him, his mouth even hotter, and he wanted Wolfram. Wolfram's hip was already damp where Yuuri brushed against him through his pajamas, and it was all he could do not to turn around completely and press himself against that heat.
But he was too aware that he was naked and Yuuri was not, and that right now he was sitting still, passive, while Yuuri kissed him. Then Wolfram remembered the last time he had felt like this-- utterly powerless against his own body and what was happening to it...
And he was damned if he was going to let the wimp make Wolfram hate him.
So before Yuuri could clumsily do something stupid and unforgivable, Wolfram pushed, and in a second had him pinned to the mattress. Dark eyes flew wide, then closed again as Wolfram unbuttoned his husband's pajama bottoms. "Wolf--"
He wanted to make Yuuri understand. Cruelly, he wanted to make Yuuri feel what he'd felt just now. So it was with the barest of touches that he freed Yuuri's erection, making the other boy gasp breathlessly and open his eyes once more to look up at him.
Wolfram didn't dare take his gaze off of Yuuri's face, didn't want to see how close they were--
Yuuri tried to move, but Wolfram was too quick and held him down.
"Please," Yuuri breathed. "Wolfram..."
Yuuri didn't understand. Yuuri would never understand. He didn't have to worry about self-discipline or dignity because everything he wanted came so easily and everyone already respected him. It wasn't costing him anything to beg, to lie still beneath Wolfram, to give up all control.
Which was terrifying. Wolfram sat up, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Not tonight," he said again.
Yuuri's eyes went wide, and he sat up, too. "What? You can't--"
But Wolfram was already standing up, blocking out Yuuri's pained voice and moving as quickly as he could to fish out one of his husband's pairs of pajama bottoms and hastily pull them on because at least then he wasn't naked anymore--
He turned back, and immediately regretted it. Yuuri-- his adorable, innocent, Yuuri-- was still watching him from where he knelt at the edge of the bed and this time Wolfram had failed to avert his eyes and he saw how hard he was, and dripping...
It was precisely because of the way Wolfram wanted so much to go to him, the way every inch of his body screamed for it, the way he found he'd taken several steps forward without realizing it, the way his mouth watered and his own cock throbbed and his heart was breaking just to see the look of frustrated need on Yuuri's face-- It was because of all this that Wolfram knew, even as Yuuri stood to meet him, that he had to get out of here.
He didn't run. He didn't need to. The door he wanted was only a few steps away, and before Yuuri had time to react, he was already closing it behind him.
"Wait! Wolfram!" The wimp's desperate voice, almost breaking as he pounded on the door. "At least tell me why! Why?"
Wolfram was quiet while Yuuri waited for an answer. He leant against the door and hoped the High King wouldn't think to realize that the door between his bedroom and the little passageway to his bath only locked from the inside. He listened, and after a moment, heard his husband sigh thickly-- almost tearfully-- and slump heavily against the barrier, then slide down to the floor. Wolfram hesitated, then silently sat down as well, tried to catch his breath, tried to think...
And that sigh had been so sad, the look on Yuuri's face so anguished, that when the small gasps began to leak through the door, Wolfram thought at first that Yuuri was crying. But those wet sounds were definitely not tears...
Wolfram's head reeled. His cock twitched. He braced his head in his hands to keep them from wandering. What Yuuri was doing... It was something Wolfram allowed himself only when he was in great pain, and he inevitably felt dirty afterward. But here Yuuri was, and taking his time about it, and thinking of him and--
And if he could sit here and listen to Yuuri bring himself off over him, and resist the urge to throw open this door and consummate their marriage right there on the floor, then, even if Wolfram had to touch himself, that would be some proof that he was still in control, that he hadn't given quite everything away.
So he stayed, and he listened, and he wondered what Yuuri was thinking about, what they were doing in his fantasy that made him make those sweet little sounds, and he thought about how much louder he could make Yuuri moan, when he got the chance... and he stroked himself slowly, stifling his own breath against his knee.
At first he tried to match Yuuri's pace, but it became too difficult after only a few minutes to hear something so subtle over the thrumming of his pulse. And, anyway, Wolfram had to be silent, and he had to be slow. He closed his eyes, thought of what Yuuri must look like right now, all flushed and wet...
Suddenly, Wolfram became aware that Yuuri was very close to finishing. He stopped his hand for a moment, as much to prove that he could as to focus all of his consciousness on listening, pressing his ear up against the door for that extra bit of volume.
He'd been right-- Yuuri began to sound like he was choking on his own breath, the noise of his movements grew louder and more frantic-- then he gave a truly undignified, strangled little gasp--
It was the most beautiful sound Wolfram had ever heard. He resolved immediately that the next time Yuuri made that noise it would be right up against his ear, and Wolfram would feel the damp air full of it and the halting movements of his chest and he would watch his face and hold him while he shook...
Wolfram's eyes watered from the effort of keeping still and smothering his own harsh breathing with a hand that smelled of himself and, he imagined, of Yuuri from that quick touch only minutes ago. He bit his palm, still listening, still hungry, as Yuuri's panting began to slow.
* * *
It was dark yet, but the birds were beginning to chatter and Wolfram still hadn't come back. Which meant that Yuuri hadn't slept. Instead, he was just lying here, and waiting, and wondering, and generally feeling terrible about everything. But that was appropriate because Greta hadn't stopped being miserable, and Wolfram apparently hadn't stopped being angry, and so Yuuri wouldn't stop being guilty. And there were so many things to feel guilty about!
He hadn't listened. Wolfram had told him to stop and he hadn't listened. He never listened to either of them, not nearly enough. He spent time with Greta, but not quite every day, and he talked to her and asked her questions but somehow he never really saw anything beyond what he wanted to see-- the little eight-year-old girl he'd taken in, so grateful just to be loved, needing nothing but him-- and he didn't bother to notice how she was slowly changing, and so, inevitably, the person she was turning into was someone he didn't really know. And she'd been suffering so badly, so alone, for two weeks while Yuuri not only didn't see it, but prevented Wolfram from seeing it either. And how Wolfram had kept pushing him away! Again and again, and Yuuri hadn't listened, hadn't learned, had kept trying because he'd been so sure that Wolfram wanted Yuuri as badly as Yuuri wanted him.
But maybe he didn't. Would Yuuri really notice if, somewhere along the way, Wolfram had lost interest? If, after getting a taste of Yuuri, he'd found it wasn't what he wanted and was only still here out of duty and friendship? After all, Yuuri hadn't realized the strength of his fiancé's feelings for so many years... If he didn't notice when Wolfram's attachment had intensified, why should he notice when it faded?
And the last thing Yuuri wanted was for Wolfram to make any more sacrifices for him.
So why had he pushed? Why had he begged? He was so selfish! A selfish wimp, oblivious to so many things around him and the people that mattered most, oblivious even to himself, because even though he tried not to think about it, the more he heard people talking about being in love (and there had been a lot of that surrounding the wedding), the more it sounded uncomfortably familiar, the more it seemed to describe how he felt, which would imply--
Yuuri's attention focused abruptly as he heard the door from the bath.
That door! And what he'd done right there... He closed his eyes and lay still, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks and calm the sudden pounding of his heart. After a few minutes, he became aware of the scent of fresh soap and steam, and when a warm drop of water hit his cheek, Yuuri was forced to open his eyes.
Wolfram was standing over him, of course, looking down at him, and now running a hand through his hair, pushing aside the bangs that had dripped onto Yuuri. He was wearing a robe from the bath, one of the long ones that went nearly to the ankle. Yuuri wondered if his husband felt he had to protect himself, and it made him feel sick.
"You're not even angry, are you?" Wolfram said, after a moment. Yuuri couldn't read his face, as the moon had gone and now the only light was the dim cast of the constant torches out in the main corridor, slipping under their door. It was only enough for a quiet gray-scale of blurred vision.
Yuuri thought about the question, because it had never occurred to him to be angry, but found that the suggestion didn't change his feelings. "Of course not. I was being selfish and I... Oh, Wolfram, I'm so sorry!" He sat up, something that was empty inside him filling up suddenly with everything that Wolfram meant to him. It began to fill up his throat, too, and though he tried to swallow it down, his voice came out thick. "I'm sorry..."
Wolfram turned away. "Me, too," he said quietly, going over to the dresser.
Yuuri watched him open a drawer and take something out. "You... You're not leaving, are you?"
"Don't be stupid." Wolfram glanced at him over his shoulder. "I'm just putting on some clothes. Is that alright with you?"
Stung, and blushing once more, Yuuri fell back against the pillows and rolled over, away from his husband. A few minutes later, the mattress dipped as Wolfram settled down beside him, and Yuuri felt a warm hand on his hip.
How did Wolfram always know just where to touch him? Yuuri never knew what he was doing with Wolfram, kept making mistakes, but the other boy seemed to always sense what was right. He always knew what Yuuri needed, even if he didn't give it. And Yuuri couldn't say, if Wolfram had laid his hand anywhere else, whether he would have felt so instantly reassured. The touch was not enough to lead to Other Things, but just intimate enough to be something only his husband was allowed to do, and to warm Yuuri's whole body.
He moved instinctively towards that touch, towards the one person who could make him feel exactly like this, and had been doing it for so many years. Wolfram pulled him in even closer, and Yuuri could feel his breath on the back of his neck, and the warm damp of his hair. For a few moments he just enjoyed it, until his husband's breathing began to slow and even out, and Yuuri remembered that he had to ask, or he wouldn't get any sleep at all, and he said quietly, "Wolfram, if you don't want..." He didn't actually know how to finish the sentence, so he fell silent, hoping the other boy would know what he meant.
Wolfram shifted slightly, burying his face in between Yuuri's shoulder and the pillow, so that when he spoke the words were so muffled that Yuuri could barely hear him. "'Course I do... Wimp," he muttered, his speech becoming slower and more slurred with each syllable. "Can't remember... not to... in love with you..." And Yuuri suspected that Wolfram had actually fallen asleep before the last few words came out. He wasn't even sure he'd heard right.
Yuuri didn't get to sleep after all.
* * *
Chapter III
Chapter II
Chapter I
On to chapter V
Concrit is much appreciated. <3