[FIC] Technicalities.
Title: Technicalities.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou.
Warnings: Nope.
Characters/couples: Murata/Conrad.
Summary:Conrad should've known that when the Sage got that wicked gleam in his eyes, it meant trouble.
Rating: NC17.
Notes: Written for springkink: Kyou Kara Maou, Conrad/Murata: Anal - "We can't do this."
Technicalities.
Conrad should've known that when the Sage got that wicked gleam in his eyes, it meant trouble. It was just that, usually, it didn't mean trouble for him. He gave a muffled moan as Murata kissed him, pushing him against one of the walls, half hidden by a pillar, palming his cock through his uniform trousers with expertise. Conrad took a deep breath, opening his mouth for Murata's tongue and sucking on it gently, still too aware of the fact that they were in the library, of all places.
He startled when he heard voices - Gwendal and Günther, by the sounds of it - but Murata didn't even try to stop, still moving his hand steadily against his erection, now very interested in molesting his neck with teeth, tongue and lips. Conrad shivered, taking a slow, deep breath and tried to push the Sage away.
“Highness,” he murmured, still straining his ears in case Günther and Gwendal came around here. “We can't do this.”
Murata gave a low hum against his neck. He had stopped stroking his cock, but Conrad was quite certain they weren't over since he was undoing his belt.
“Technically, we shouldn't do this,” Murata agreed. His smile widened as he finally opened the belt, now moving to undo the button of his trousers, sliding to his knees with a devious grin once he managed, taking out his still half hard cock. His eyes were still mischievous as he looked at him. “But, also technically, we can do this.”
Conrad was unable to say anything else as Murata took his cock in his mouth, entirely too skillful as he took him deep inside his mouth, too busy trying not to moan at the feel of his mouth and tongue, bracing most of his weight against the wall, legs opened.
By the time Murata slipped two spit-slick fingers into him to press against his prostate, Conrad had to agree with him about technicalities.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou.
Warnings: Nope.
Characters/couples: Murata/Conrad.
Summary:Conrad should've known that when the Sage got that wicked gleam in his eyes, it meant trouble.
Rating: NC17.
Notes: Written for springkink: Kyou Kara Maou, Conrad/Murata: Anal - "We can't do this."
Technicalities.
Conrad should've known that when the Sage got that wicked gleam in his eyes, it meant trouble. It was just that, usually, it didn't mean trouble for him. He gave a muffled moan as Murata kissed him, pushing him against one of the walls, half hidden by a pillar, palming his cock through his uniform trousers with expertise. Conrad took a deep breath, opening his mouth for Murata's tongue and sucking on it gently, still too aware of the fact that they were in the library, of all places.
He startled when he heard voices - Gwendal and Günther, by the sounds of it - but Murata didn't even try to stop, still moving his hand steadily against his erection, now very interested in molesting his neck with teeth, tongue and lips. Conrad shivered, taking a slow, deep breath and tried to push the Sage away.
“Highness,” he murmured, still straining his ears in case Günther and Gwendal came around here. “We can't do this.”
Murata gave a low hum against his neck. He had stopped stroking his cock, but Conrad was quite certain they weren't over since he was undoing his belt.
“Technically, we shouldn't do this,” Murata agreed. His smile widened as he finally opened the belt, now moving to undo the button of his trousers, sliding to his knees with a devious grin once he managed, taking out his still half hard cock. His eyes were still mischievous as he looked at him. “But, also technically, we can do this.”
Conrad was unable to say anything else as Murata took his cock in his mouth, entirely too skillful as he took him deep inside his mouth, too busy trying not to moan at the feel of his mouth and tongue, bracing most of his weight against the wall, legs opened.
By the time Murata slipped two spit-slick fingers into him to press against his prostate, Conrad had to agree with him about technicalities.