Kyou Kara Maou (Yuuri/Conrad)
Title: positive reinforcment
Author: reversedhymnal
Rating: NC-17 for the clear outlining of sexual acts, and for a sizzling intent, but, alas, no actual hanky panky occurred in the making of this fic.
Warnings: Some definite M/s currents here, ♥ Um. Yuuri sort of talking dirty, and mentions of bondage, ♥
Word count: 1,709
Prompt: Kyou Kara Maou, Yuuri/Conrad: Dressing - Conrad helping Yuuri dress for a formal event.
Summary: Conrad and Yuuri make a very satisfying deal.
A/N: It’s late, and I apologize, but at least it’s done, :D I...was a little uncertain as to what to do with this prompt. Luckly or me, my muses showed me how it was done, ♥ Hope you like it!
Yuuri had been awake since dawn, but he wasn’t about to tell Conrad that. He hid under his blankets and pillows and at one point even hid beneath Wolfram, moaning pathetically in the hopes that his best guard would take a hint, and leave him be.
No such luck, of course.
“Your Majesty,” came Conrad’s patient voice, “it is past time to awaken.”
“Mrrr,” Yuuri muttered into a mouthful of pillow. Wolfram twitched beside him, snoring. Yuuri had been awake since dawn, true, but dawn had been a mere hour ago. It was horrifically early, and Wolfram - the lucky brat - didn’t have an duties of state to attend that morning. Yuuri, however, did.
Conrad sighed, and Yuuri flinched to hear it. Stubbornly, he curled up into a tight ball, and squinted one wary eye over at his protector. Conrad had a faint, rueful smile on his face, and a soft, tender look in his eyes. Quietly, Yuuri drank him in, how the morning sun was just barely leaking across Shin Makoku’s sky, pale, faint traces of it getting past his heavy curtains and limning Conrad golden brown and beautiful.
“Your Majesty-” Conrad began again, but Yuuri was already rising up from his pile of blankets with a reluctant groan. He stretched, and flumped back onto a pillow for a moment, before ungracefully rolling out of bed. Yawning, he staggered upright, smiling up at Conrad lopsidedly when the older half-demon put a hand under his arm to steady him.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he muttered. “Couldn’t stand hearing you call me ‘Your Majesty’ while I was still in bed, damn it.”
Conrad smiled, a perfect, sweet curve as he patiently walked Yuuri across his spacious room, leaving Wolfram snoring peacefully in the bed behind them, all the blankets already stolen and wrapped tightly around the youngest prince. “I had no doubt,” Conrad was saying, “that you would rise to the occasion.”
“Bah!”
Chuckling slightly, Conrad settled Yuuri on a small, cushioned pedestal. Yuuri swayed faintly, before catching his balance with a sheepish scrub of his hair. It was getting longer, and more unruly. He yawned again. “Don’t I need a shower?”
“Probably,” Conrad said, grinning in amusement. “But I’m afraid you haven’t the time, Your Majesty. You overslept.”
“Conrad,” Yuuri whined, not complaining as Conrad patiently began undoing the buttons on his sleep shirt. He couldn’t quite stop the blush, though, no matter how many times this happened, no matter how many times Yuuri bit down on his protests that he could do this himself, thank you very much; the blush and mild embarrassment was worth the satisfied, content look in Conrad’s eyes as he took care of him.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“ARGH. Stop calling me that!”
“But Your Majesty,” Conrad said, innocently, helping steady Yuuri as he stepped out of his pajama pants. Yuuri shivered, nude in the cool morning air of his room. Conrad ran his eyes over Yuuri’s frame, long and gangly but slowly, oh so slowly, filling out. Yuuri’s blush intensified, and Conrad’s smile grew, his eyes a little darker. “You’re not in bed anymore.”
“Technicality,” Yuuri snapped, fisting his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t mean my name is any less the one you gave me.”
“Mm,” Conrad murmured, turning to a chair off the side, “Indeed not, Your Majesty.” There was a dresser behind it, half open from when Conrad had rifled through it earlier. A large mirror was set perpendicular to it, and Yuuri pouted at Conrad through it, before sighing, and giving up for now.
When Conrad turned, blissfully ignoring Yuuri’s sulk, Yuuri stiffened, eyeing the sweep of fabric in Conrad’s hands. “No,” he said, “No way, nuh uh, not a chance! I hate that one! It’s all stuffy and huge and I can’t breathe and I feel like I’m going to go blind because there’s so much metallic stuff on there it’s crazy!”
“It’s called embroidery, Your Majesty,” Conrad said with deep amusement in his brown eyes. “And it makes you look elegant and stately; it’s perfect for receiving a foreign ambassador, who also happens to be a cousin of a queen.”
“No.”
“Your Majesty.”
“No!” Yuuri said, waving his arms about. “There’s nothing you can do that’ll convince me!”
And that was, apparently, the exact right, and the exact wrong thing to say. Conrad paused, and his eyes went dark, his face hesitant and sly. He shifted, tilted his head down like he sometimes did, when he went sharp and gorgeous and wickedly bladed; Yuuri felt his breath catch, because like this, he knew that no one could touch Conrad and not get cut - except himself.
“Conrad,” he said.
Conrad licked his lips, and stepped closer, kneeling at the foot of the pedestal elegantly, to gently lie out the ridiculous affair of pompous clothing. “Your Majesty,” he murmured. “Are you so certain? I propose we…make a deal.” Conrad looked up through long, dark brown bangs, face sharp and gentle and hungry and tender all at once.
Yuuri said, low and desperate, a tight fission of heat already catching and twirling in his gut merely at the promise, there, kneeling so accomadatingly at his feet, “Conrad.”
“For every article of clothing, Your Majesty, that I put on you, you may do one thing of your choice to me. Whatever you wish.”
There was a distant roaring in his ears, and Yuuri had to swallow, with difficulty, mouth dry. Standing there, completely naked save the socks on his feet, it was obvious that he was aroused, but it didn’t bother him like it may have, any other time. Conrad was trusting and beautiful and perfectly his at his feet, and Yuuri rarely had the occasion to coax Conrad into letting go. It wasn’t that Yuuri didn’t want it, or that Conrad didn’t want it; it was that Conrad was usually so restrained, so formal, he would never go so far as to take, or even ask, and Yuuri knew that Conrad would do anything he asked, no matter what, and that made it hard for Yuuri, because he didn’t want to take advantage of something so selflessly given without express permission.
Here was express permission. Right here.
“Damn it,” he breathed out. “That is so cheating.”
Conrad gave a low, rumbling laugh, like sunlight and lazy days, and Yuuri shivered. “Fine,” the young king said. “Anything I want, for each item of clothing.” He grinned, and added, “For once, I’m glad there’re so many layers.”
It made Conrad raise an eyebrow in dry amusement, but Yuuri knew him well enough to read the anticipation settled back in his deep brown eyes. Yuuri smiled, slow and heated, because getting through this ordeal was going to be long and horrible, but worth it.
Conrad started dressing him. First, smooth leggings, and Yuuri said, while Conrad’s fingers lingered at the waistband, “I’m going to kiss you, until you’re panting for breath.” Conrad inhaled sharply, and smiled, and did not look up from his task, as he carefully straightening the seams, and smoothed them down Yuuri’s legs. Then there was an undershirt, of soft, light cotton, and Yuuri said, “I’m going to touch you, anywhere and everywhere I want, until you squirm.”
A tunic was next, of fine embroidered linen. Yuuri had never understood why they put embroidery on an item of clothing that, in this outfit, nobody would ever see; but right them he didn’t care. He sighed in anticipation of future pleasure, grinning brightly, and said, “I’m going to taste every inch of your skin, until you forget what your name is.”
Conrad licked his lips, and kept going, methodical and tender. A pair of wide cuffed pants followed, made of heavy silk, over the leggings, the tunic and shirt tucked in. Yuuri already felt like he was wearing too much, damn it. He had never been happier that it was still just the beginning. “I’m going to suck you off, Conrad; I’m going to suck you off, and it’s going to be slow, and prolonged, and mind blowing.” Conrad paused, ever so slightly, as he refused to shiver, and Yuuri said, “But. I’m not going to let you come like that.”
A short vest was next, and Yuuri said, “I’m going to tie you down, so that you’re helpless to do anything to stop me; helpless to do anything save surrender to the pleasure I’m going to give you.” And, there: a delicate, full body shiver. Yuuri grinned, pleased; he was half hard just at the imagining of all this, of Conrad beneath him, writhing and moaning and squirming under Yuuri’s careful, enthusiastic ministrations.
There was a coat, then, followed quickly by a long, billowing overcoat, both made of heavy black silks and overly done gold embroidery. “Because,” Yuuri said, as Conrad knelt once more, “I am going to spread you wide, and fuck you on my fingers until you’re begging me to fuck you, to flip you over and slide into you and fuck you so hard you feel it all week.” Very carefully, Conrad closed his eyes, and swallowed, his breath short and his cheeks flushed. Yuuri’s were flushed too, but he was hypnotized by Conrad, but the thought of doing all of this to Conrad, so it didn’t matter. “But I’m not going to flip you over,” he said softly. “I want to see your face when I sink into you, I want to look into your eyes when we make love.”
Very quietly, Conrad moaned.
“My shoes, Conrad,” Yuuri said quietly. “Don’t forget my boots.”
With difficulty, Conrad responded, “O-of course. Your Majesty.”
Yuuri smiled, and helpfully lifted his sock covered feet, to slide them into the shiny boots. Conrad laced them up with almost steady hands. “And then,” Yuuri said, “I’m going to make you scream my name. My real name, Conrad. Not my title.” He smiled, brightly, feeling clever and hungry and glorious. “And then, I’m going to do it all over again.”
Conrad looked up at him, something so beautiful in his eyes that it took Yuuri’s breath away, made his heart seize up in wonder in his chest. He said, slow and satisfied and meaning every word of it: “As you command it, Your Majesty.”
Author: reversedhymnal
Rating: NC-17 for the clear outlining of sexual acts, and for a sizzling intent, but, alas, no actual hanky panky occurred in the making of this fic.
Warnings: Some definite M/s currents here, ♥ Um. Yuuri sort of talking dirty, and mentions of bondage, ♥
Word count: 1,709
Prompt: Kyou Kara Maou, Yuuri/Conrad: Dressing - Conrad helping Yuuri dress for a formal event.
Summary: Conrad and Yuuri make a very satisfying deal.
A/N: It’s late, and I apologize, but at least it’s done, :D I...was a little uncertain as to what to do with this prompt. Luckly or me, my muses showed me how it was done, ♥ Hope you like it!
Yuuri had been awake since dawn, but he wasn’t about to tell Conrad that. He hid under his blankets and pillows and at one point even hid beneath Wolfram, moaning pathetically in the hopes that his best guard would take a hint, and leave him be.
No such luck, of course.
“Your Majesty,” came Conrad’s patient voice, “it is past time to awaken.”
“Mrrr,” Yuuri muttered into a mouthful of pillow. Wolfram twitched beside him, snoring. Yuuri had been awake since dawn, true, but dawn had been a mere hour ago. It was horrifically early, and Wolfram - the lucky brat - didn’t have an duties of state to attend that morning. Yuuri, however, did.
Conrad sighed, and Yuuri flinched to hear it. Stubbornly, he curled up into a tight ball, and squinted one wary eye over at his protector. Conrad had a faint, rueful smile on his face, and a soft, tender look in his eyes. Quietly, Yuuri drank him in, how the morning sun was just barely leaking across Shin Makoku’s sky, pale, faint traces of it getting past his heavy curtains and limning Conrad golden brown and beautiful.
“Your Majesty-” Conrad began again, but Yuuri was already rising up from his pile of blankets with a reluctant groan. He stretched, and flumped back onto a pillow for a moment, before ungracefully rolling out of bed. Yawning, he staggered upright, smiling up at Conrad lopsidedly when the older half-demon put a hand under his arm to steady him.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he muttered. “Couldn’t stand hearing you call me ‘Your Majesty’ while I was still in bed, damn it.”
Conrad smiled, a perfect, sweet curve as he patiently walked Yuuri across his spacious room, leaving Wolfram snoring peacefully in the bed behind them, all the blankets already stolen and wrapped tightly around the youngest prince. “I had no doubt,” Conrad was saying, “that you would rise to the occasion.”
“Bah!”
Chuckling slightly, Conrad settled Yuuri on a small, cushioned pedestal. Yuuri swayed faintly, before catching his balance with a sheepish scrub of his hair. It was getting longer, and more unruly. He yawned again. “Don’t I need a shower?”
“Probably,” Conrad said, grinning in amusement. “But I’m afraid you haven’t the time, Your Majesty. You overslept.”
“Conrad,” Yuuri whined, not complaining as Conrad patiently began undoing the buttons on his sleep shirt. He couldn’t quite stop the blush, though, no matter how many times this happened, no matter how many times Yuuri bit down on his protests that he could do this himself, thank you very much; the blush and mild embarrassment was worth the satisfied, content look in Conrad’s eyes as he took care of him.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“ARGH. Stop calling me that!”
“But Your Majesty,” Conrad said, innocently, helping steady Yuuri as he stepped out of his pajama pants. Yuuri shivered, nude in the cool morning air of his room. Conrad ran his eyes over Yuuri’s frame, long and gangly but slowly, oh so slowly, filling out. Yuuri’s blush intensified, and Conrad’s smile grew, his eyes a little darker. “You’re not in bed anymore.”
“Technicality,” Yuuri snapped, fisting his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t mean my name is any less the one you gave me.”
“Mm,” Conrad murmured, turning to a chair off the side, “Indeed not, Your Majesty.” There was a dresser behind it, half open from when Conrad had rifled through it earlier. A large mirror was set perpendicular to it, and Yuuri pouted at Conrad through it, before sighing, and giving up for now.
When Conrad turned, blissfully ignoring Yuuri’s sulk, Yuuri stiffened, eyeing the sweep of fabric in Conrad’s hands. “No,” he said, “No way, nuh uh, not a chance! I hate that one! It’s all stuffy and huge and I can’t breathe and I feel like I’m going to go blind because there’s so much metallic stuff on there it’s crazy!”
“It’s called embroidery, Your Majesty,” Conrad said with deep amusement in his brown eyes. “And it makes you look elegant and stately; it’s perfect for receiving a foreign ambassador, who also happens to be a cousin of a queen.”
“No.”
“Your Majesty.”
“No!” Yuuri said, waving his arms about. “There’s nothing you can do that’ll convince me!”
And that was, apparently, the exact right, and the exact wrong thing to say. Conrad paused, and his eyes went dark, his face hesitant and sly. He shifted, tilted his head down like he sometimes did, when he went sharp and gorgeous and wickedly bladed; Yuuri felt his breath catch, because like this, he knew that no one could touch Conrad and not get cut - except himself.
“Conrad,” he said.
Conrad licked his lips, and stepped closer, kneeling at the foot of the pedestal elegantly, to gently lie out the ridiculous affair of pompous clothing. “Your Majesty,” he murmured. “Are you so certain? I propose we…make a deal.” Conrad looked up through long, dark brown bangs, face sharp and gentle and hungry and tender all at once.
Yuuri said, low and desperate, a tight fission of heat already catching and twirling in his gut merely at the promise, there, kneeling so accomadatingly at his feet, “Conrad.”
“For every article of clothing, Your Majesty, that I put on you, you may do one thing of your choice to me. Whatever you wish.”
There was a distant roaring in his ears, and Yuuri had to swallow, with difficulty, mouth dry. Standing there, completely naked save the socks on his feet, it was obvious that he was aroused, but it didn’t bother him like it may have, any other time. Conrad was trusting and beautiful and perfectly his at his feet, and Yuuri rarely had the occasion to coax Conrad into letting go. It wasn’t that Yuuri didn’t want it, or that Conrad didn’t want it; it was that Conrad was usually so restrained, so formal, he would never go so far as to take, or even ask, and Yuuri knew that Conrad would do anything he asked, no matter what, and that made it hard for Yuuri, because he didn’t want to take advantage of something so selflessly given without express permission.
Here was express permission. Right here.
“Damn it,” he breathed out. “That is so cheating.”
Conrad gave a low, rumbling laugh, like sunlight and lazy days, and Yuuri shivered. “Fine,” the young king said. “Anything I want, for each item of clothing.” He grinned, and added, “For once, I’m glad there’re so many layers.”
It made Conrad raise an eyebrow in dry amusement, but Yuuri knew him well enough to read the anticipation settled back in his deep brown eyes. Yuuri smiled, slow and heated, because getting through this ordeal was going to be long and horrible, but worth it.
Conrad started dressing him. First, smooth leggings, and Yuuri said, while Conrad’s fingers lingered at the waistband, “I’m going to kiss you, until you’re panting for breath.” Conrad inhaled sharply, and smiled, and did not look up from his task, as he carefully straightening the seams, and smoothed them down Yuuri’s legs. Then there was an undershirt, of soft, light cotton, and Yuuri said, “I’m going to touch you, anywhere and everywhere I want, until you squirm.”
A tunic was next, of fine embroidered linen. Yuuri had never understood why they put embroidery on an item of clothing that, in this outfit, nobody would ever see; but right them he didn’t care. He sighed in anticipation of future pleasure, grinning brightly, and said, “I’m going to taste every inch of your skin, until you forget what your name is.”
Conrad licked his lips, and kept going, methodical and tender. A pair of wide cuffed pants followed, made of heavy silk, over the leggings, the tunic and shirt tucked in. Yuuri already felt like he was wearing too much, damn it. He had never been happier that it was still just the beginning. “I’m going to suck you off, Conrad; I’m going to suck you off, and it’s going to be slow, and prolonged, and mind blowing.” Conrad paused, ever so slightly, as he refused to shiver, and Yuuri said, “But. I’m not going to let you come like that.”
A short vest was next, and Yuuri said, “I’m going to tie you down, so that you’re helpless to do anything to stop me; helpless to do anything save surrender to the pleasure I’m going to give you.” And, there: a delicate, full body shiver. Yuuri grinned, pleased; he was half hard just at the imagining of all this, of Conrad beneath him, writhing and moaning and squirming under Yuuri’s careful, enthusiastic ministrations.
There was a coat, then, followed quickly by a long, billowing overcoat, both made of heavy black silks and overly done gold embroidery. “Because,” Yuuri said, as Conrad knelt once more, “I am going to spread you wide, and fuck you on my fingers until you’re begging me to fuck you, to flip you over and slide into you and fuck you so hard you feel it all week.” Very carefully, Conrad closed his eyes, and swallowed, his breath short and his cheeks flushed. Yuuri’s were flushed too, but he was hypnotized by Conrad, but the thought of doing all of this to Conrad, so it didn’t matter. “But I’m not going to flip you over,” he said softly. “I want to see your face when I sink into you, I want to look into your eyes when we make love.”
Very quietly, Conrad moaned.
“My shoes, Conrad,” Yuuri said quietly. “Don’t forget my boots.”
With difficulty, Conrad responded, “O-of course. Your Majesty.”
Yuuri smiled, and helpfully lifted his sock covered feet, to slide them into the shiny boots. Conrad laced them up with almost steady hands. “And then,” Yuuri said, “I’m going to make you scream my name. My real name, Conrad. Not my title.” He smiled, brightly, feeling clever and hungry and glorious. “And then, I’m going to do it all over again.”
Conrad looked up at him, something so beautiful in his eyes that it took Yuuri’s breath away, made his heart seize up in wonder in his chest. He said, slow and satisfied and meaning every word of it: “As you command it, Your Majesty.”