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The Spot	By : ibshafer Category: +G to L > Kyou Kara Maou Views: 4663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Spot
- 1
Title: The Spot

Author: ibshafer

Rating: R/NC-17

Pairing: Yuri and…

Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me
spin them around the page now and then.

Summary: In which Yuri has some time to himself and realizes being loved by Wolfram might
not be such a bad thing afterall…

Warnings: mild to graphic sex

Genre: Kyo Kara Maoh

Spoilers: none

The Spot

~ibshafer

Really, does it get any more pathetic than this?

Deep in the murky bowels of the castle, Yuri pulled himself farther into the darkened chamber
and waited for his eyes to adjust to the low light.

Sneaking away to…to…

Some things, though, were just too…hard to ignore. Maybe when he was older he’d learn to
control it, but for now – no dice.

For crying out loud, I’m just a normal sixteen-year old boy.

He found himself laughing aloud at that thought and quickly clamped a hand over his own mouth
lest the rueful sound draw the attention of any roaming guards or, worse yet, Gunter.

OK, so being the Demon King gets me permanently off the “normal” list, but still…

The stone walls of the castle were cold against his back as Yuri slid down to the floor with a
sigh.

No matter how old my soul is, my body – and my hormones – are still only sixteen.

Impatient hands fumbled with the buttons at his waist, shaking as they parted the heavy black
fabric, eagerly delving deeper, drawn by heat and blind need.

If they’d just leave me alone for more than five minutes…

Fingers closed around the hardening length and he hissed sharply through clenched teeth.

See, Shibuya, this is what happens when you wait so long…

It was hard to believe he’d gone as long as he had.

He’d last been back home – on Earth – over three weeks ago.

Three whole weeks…

His mother didn’t let him alone much more than Gunter did (the image of Gunter in a frilled
apron flashed through his head and oddly enough, it wasn’t an incongruous thought…), but at
least she let him bathe, pee and sleep by himself.

Here he always seemed to either have someone with him, or waiting (and rarely with patience)
not quite out of earshot. (Gunter! Wolfram!!) He appreciated their devotion, he really did, but
sometimes a guy just needed to be alone…

He’d found this unused corner of the castle several months ago.

He remembered his elation the first time he’d managed to slip away from his faithful entourage
for some blissful, stolen moments of privacy. The alone time was a relief in and of itself, but that
he was also able to give vent to his pent-up sexual frustration – he was a healthy sixteen-year old,
damnit! – was exciting beyond belief.

That he had to sneak away in the dead of night, a time when he would already have had privacy,
but for the perennial presence of his so-called fiancé, Wolfram, was no small source of
frustration for him.

How many times had he awoken with morning wood, only to find the blond draped over him,
making his escape for the bathroom undetected an iffy proposition? And if in the process the
prince were roused and discovered the young king’s condition?

At least the ensuing wrestling/screaming match proved as effective as any cold shower…

At the moment, though, he was happily hard and thankfully alone.

Yes…

With a sigh of pure joy and utter relief, he wrapped a hand around himself.

Mmmmm, I’ve missed this…

His fingers were immediately slick and he felt a rush of pleasure from his scalp to the soles of his
feet. A moment’s giddy ecstasy at the pure freedom of the feeling – surely this was life’s purest,
most visceral sensation – then he began to stroke in earnest, harsh breathing echoing dully off
stone walls.

Yesss…

There really was nothing to compare with this – his tunneled fingers applying just the right
amount of pressure, his own arousal providing just the right amount of slickness to ease the
action. Even the sounds his body made were stimulating: his hand sliding wetly, and because of
his extreme excitement, somewhat noisily, up and down his length, his breath harsh and guttural
in his chest.

Mmmmm…

Sometimes he wished he weren’t the Maoh, that instead he was just a regular kid, living a
regular life – in Japan or even here.

A guy his age usually had no responsibilities.

A guy his age usually only had to worry about what he wanted – and not what was good for the
whole world (kingdom)…

A guy his age normally (the word ‘normally’ set off at a bounce again across the surface of his
mind and was quickly out of range…) could do this anytime he wanted to…

A-ah!

Yuri wasn’t a selfish boy, had never been before and now, now that he was, literally, king of his
own domain, he’d had occasion to put his moral, altruistic side to goodly use.

Helping people out was one of the advantages of his position and it was a joy and a pleasure, no
mistake about it. It gave his life purpose, not that he’d been looking, at the ripe old age of fifteen,
for purpose, but he’d found the more pure good he did, the more he relished it, sought it out.

How unusual for a boy of fifteen, now sixteen, to think of anyone beyond himself, let alone an
entire kingdom …

To be sure, Yuri Shibuya was no ordinary teenager.

But though he might be (and was) the Maoh, though he might (and did) have responsibilities that
went far beyond his own personal needs and wants, he was (yes, he was!), in spite of all this, still
a sixteen year old boy…

And as everyone knew, both in Shin Makoku and on earth, a sixteen year old boy is, first and
foremost, a walking hormone…

Holy crap, this feels so good…

The scents and sounds of his own excitement filled his senses; sweat and pre-cum, salty and
pungent; the soft, wet slaps of his efforts, his labored breathing and helpless moans.

Every nerve in his body was twitching simultaneously. He felt the boiling in his insides that
signaled what was to…well, come…and then with a helpless, ragged shout, he came – into his
hand, onto his clothes and, he noted with a hint of self-satisfaction, also onto the floor three feet
away…

Riding out the last waves of pleasure with a sigh and a sated smile, he groped blindly for the little
“clean-up” pack he kept here for just this purpose and, after quickly making perfunctory use of it,
he fell into his usual, post-orgasm stupor…

It was sometime later that Yuri, still dozing against the wall, became aware of a renewed sense
of…need.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate.

More than just his normal lust, demanding and unfulfilled, he felt very plainly that this particular
need was, well, being…handled.

Oh, God – AH!

Which was odd since he could still vaguely feel his hands, both of them, pressed against the cold
stone floor.

‘Look, Ma! No hands…’

No, wait – not hands.

This pleasure was wholly different from the usual friction and pressure supplied by his fingers
and palm. There were new sensations here – heat and wetness (and oh, God, is that suction…?)

I-I must still be asleep…

Groaning, he was too caught up in the fever to even think straight, let alone question any of it.

Instead, giving in to the undeniable impulse, he began to move his hips reflexively.

After all, he was dreaming; why question it?

Dream Yuri spread his legs wider to take full advantage of this rather advantageous vision. No
one, not even the Maoh, could control what kind of dreams they had. Who knew when he’d get
this particular opportunity again…

Ah, God, sex is good… Girls are good…

In his mind, this fantasy girl began to materialize, blond and alluring, nestled between his thighs,
tiny hands, lips and…t-t-tongue working furiously – just for his pleasure. He ran a hand through
the short blond waves framing her lovely face and was rewarded with renewed effort from his
partner that made his toes curl and his brain melt and drip out his ears.

S-sweet, sweet – ah!

His dream girl didn’t have a name, but at the moment she didn’t need one. All that mattered, all
that existed, was the nexus of bliss between his legs and the sounds of both their moaning.

Listen to her! She’s really enjoying this.

He sighed in agreement, then laughed softly.

Of course she is – why would I dream it any differently?

A warm tongue traced the edges of his arousal, probing heatedly, while skilled fingers kneaded
the tight sac that lay below.

I can’t believe how much better it feels when someone else does this…

He was thrusting now into the hot, wet darkness of his dream lover’s mouth. The blond at his feet
moaned around him, softly humming her own pleasure.

Oh, God! She’s humming…

This new sensation, which seemed to make all his privates vibrate at once, quickly sent him over
the edge and he threw his head back, coming with a shout, coming harder than he ever had
before, his breathless cries echoing off the stone walls.

The dream blond held on, held him close in her mouth, riding out the aftershocks until Yuri was
spent and there was nothing left but the warmth and lethargy of release.

W-who knew I had such a good imagination?

Coming down, coming back to himself, Yuri looked to the girl who had brought him such
ecstasy and ran a hand once again through her soft blond hair. She sighed, curling her body
against his, her own satisfaction clearly evident.

Slipping a hand beneath her chin, he looked deep into her expansive green eyes meaning to make
some sort of declaration or, at the very least, compliment her skills.

Something, however, happened when he looked into those eyes.

W-what the—?

The face of the girl at his feet, the girl who had gotten him off so skillfully, who had known just
how to touch him, and where to touch him, the girl who he was seriously wishing he could meet
in Real Life so he could try out those other aspects of getting-off he’d heard so much about…
The face of that girl…had suddenly become the familiar, pointy-chinned, emerald-eyed, …not-unpretty face of his so-called ‘fiancé,’ Wolfram von Bielefeld…

Oh, God, NO! Why would I dream t-this?!!

“W-W-Wolfram??!!” he gasped in shock, his voice still hoarse from release.

Wolfram?!!!

Remembering something his mother had once told him about dreaming, Yuri quickly pinched the
flesh of his upper arm.

“Ow-ouch!!!” he screamed in surprise and pain, and then, because he knew damn well what both
meant, he added a tiny, mournful, resigned, “Ssshit…”

He’d been awake the entire time.

Oh man oh man oh man oh man…

He hadn’t been dreaming about some girl.

Groggy and sated from his previous release, he’d actually just been half asleep.

Half asleep and sort of, kind of having, well – one-sided! – sex with…

“Is there a problem, Yuri,” the prince asked, concerned, but Yuri just stared back at him, mouth
open, unable to respond.

Oh, God…

Wolfram was gazing up at him, eyes half-lidded with his own satisfaction as he ran lazy
possessive fingers over the king’s waning length.

“Ready for more?”

Wolfram licked his lips and nodded encouragingly. “I forgot some of Mother’s pointers. She said
that if I run my tongue over this area right here…” he drew a fingertip over a spot just below
Yuri’s sac that made the young king’s eyes roll clear into the back of his head. “…you would do
exactly what you just did. I’ll have to tell her she was right…”

And damned if Wolfram didn’t lean right forward and kiss that very same spot.

S-stoppit! Ah-AH!!

Yuri willed his body to fight the overwhelming urge to rush all the blood in his system back
between his legs. He tried to pull himself away from Wolfram and his wandering fingers and lips,
but was wholly unsuccessful; the wall behind him was blocking his only escape route and
besides, he seemed to have misplaced all the bones in his legs...

Finally, Wolfram ceased his attention to The Spot and settled against him using Yuri’s right thigh
as a pillow. His breath was warm…and t-too damn close!

Yuri swallowed reflexively.

Oh, GOD, why does that feel so GOOD?!

Having no other resources, and no experience to work from, Yuri’s poor, beleaguered mind did
the only thing it could think to do: it went blank.

Try as he might, he just couldn’t get anything coherent to form in his head – let alone come out
of his jaw-dropped mouth.

Part of it could be owed to the shock of what he had just experienced (“I got my first blow job!”
And then, in disbelief, “ I…I got my first blow job from…from a guy…”) and seeing Wolfram
nestled so comfortably between his legs, one hand still happily laying claim to his manhood.

P-p-please let go…

The other part was the result of a stepped up version of his usual post-orgasmic mental
impairment. (‘One plus one is…is…? Anybody know?’)

This temporary cerebral deficiency was particularly stepped up because, truth be told, what he’d
just experienced, soundly, and in no freaking uncertain terms had Blown. His. Mind.

Ummmm…

Yuri knew he should be feeling violated right now.

He knew he should be offended: fiancé or not, Wolfram had taken some pretty serious liberties
here.

He knew he should be running away and fast. (Instead of what he was doing which was …well,
drooling, damnit…)

He really, really (really, really!) wanted to slug the clingy, blond prince and make a break for it –
and never mind how dressed – or undressed – he was (when did he lose his pants?!); the castle
guards were used to seeing him running around looking strangely. Hell, he’d come back naked
plenty of times.

OK, way tangential, but why does it have to be bath water that usually “takes me?” Why
couldn’t it be water fountain water or…or swimming pool water or… Why is it the kind of water
I usually have to get naked to go into? Seriously, I’m beginning to think that the Great One
either has a real mean streak or a wicked sense of humor. Or both…

In the end, the tangential thought actually helped him; at least he could think straighter now.

So instead of being offended, feeling violated, running away or slugging Wolfram, Yuri found he
couldn’t do any of those things.

Because as much as he might want to deny it, he still just felt really, really (really, really!)…well,
good…

This…um, situation, though, would have to be dealt with.

Or it could happen again.

And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?

Would we?

Yuri?

“Wolfram,” he said as gently as he could manage despite the argument now ensuing between his
brain and his nether regions who were clearly thrilled with all the attention.

In fact, ‘attention’ wasn’t a good word to be bandying about at the moment.

Already?

“Yes, my love?” Wolfram said, eyebrow arching as he registered the not-so-subtle changes to the
landscape level with his eyes.

Yuri wasn’t sure if he should be frightened by the feral expression on the young prince’s face,
but the way Wolfram’s deep green eyes regarded him, all trace of his usual, aristocratic (spoiled
brat…) disdain gone, said not.

“Look,” he began, carefully, mindful of the utter devotion in Wolfram’s tone. “I don’t want to
hurt your feelings, but…but we’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?”

“I know, I know,” Wolfram began, looking somewhat annoyed. “You’re not ‘into’ men.”

Yuri felt a rush of relief somehow not stemmed by the presence of Wolfram’s hand, still
resolutely holding his privates…

Why don’t you ask him to let go, Yuri?

“That’s good, I’m glad you understand.”

“I understand, Yuri,” Wolfram said, propping himself up on an elbow to stare intently into
Yuri’s eyes, “because I’m not either.”

There was another rush of relief, followed immediately thereafter by a rush of confusion as his
dick helpfully reminded him it was still being held by a hand not attached to his own body.

It was odd, in itself, to be having any conversation, let alone one about who was or wasn’t “into”
men, while one’s dick was being held, again, by a hand not attached to one’s own body.

Then again, it’d even be odd to have that conversation while he was holding his own dick…

Odd.

It was all just odd…

Yuri shook his head, forcibly dragging himself back to the present.

“You’re not “either” what,” he asked, voice swallowed by the heavy stone walls and his own
confusion.

“I’m not “into” men, either, Yuri.”

OK, now I’m really confused.

“But—“

Not feeling brave enough to voice the question, he simply stared pointedly at his dick, raising
both eyebrows a few times by way of punctuation.

And damned if Wolfram didn’t blush at that.

‘He’d make a really cute girl,’ Yuri thought before he could stop himself.

Shaking off the embarrassment, Wolfram continued, faintly annoyed – at himself, but more
possibly at Yuri.

“You may be a complete and total wimp, but you are my fiancé, you know.”

Yuri’s poor, beleaguered brain, not sure which part of that sentence it ought to respond to, but
feeling quite sure it wanted to choose the one that required the least amount of heavy thinking,
opted to jump after the former, rather than the latter.

“Now that’s not fair, Wolfram!” he yelled, insulted. “How can you call me a wimp after
everything I’ve done?! Aren’t I the first one to say we need to chase after some lead – no matter
how dangerous? Aren’t I the first one to charge out the door, sword…er, OK, Morgrif in hand?! I
may not be able to ride a horse like you, I may not be able to wield a sword, OK, Morgrif, like
you, but I don’t think anyone would call me a wimp for that!”

His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. Unfortunately, all the excitement (or maybe it was
fortunately) was having an affect on…another part of his body…

A fact which did not escape his ever-observant fiancé.

“If you weren’t such a wimp, Yuri,” Wolfram said, hand moving ever-so-slowly over the flesh it
held. “You would have asked me, your fiancé, for help with your problem a long time ago,
instead of sneaking away in the dead of night to relieve yourself in this janitor’s closet.”

It’s a janitor’s closet?

Wolfram seemed to forcibly tear his eyes away to look up again into Yuri’s face.

“It’s my job, Yuri,” he said, voice low, husky. “To see that you have what you need…” Leaning
forward, he ran his nose against the reawakening length. “Whatever, whenever you need it.”

Yuri gasped as the tip of Wolfram’s tongue, a tongue most usually employed to skewer the young
king’s lack-luster fencing skills, instead traced the line of the young king’s manhood, lingering at
the tip before placing a kiss, with the help of Wolfram’s surprisingly soft lips, right on the crown.

Yuri struggled for speech, but “W-W-Wolfff” was all he could manage.

Wolfram looked up at him again, eyes dancing, pleased with this response, and his mouth turned
upwards into THE most suggestive smile Yuri had ever seen in his life.

He SO takes after his mother!

Running his thumb along Yuri’s flesh, now fully at attention, he smiled again.

“You’re not seriously going to tell me you don’t need this?”

And before Yuri could say anything, he slipped the head of the young king’s arousal into his
mouth and began to suck slowly.

Mommy!!!

He wanted to disagree – he really did – but his dick and his hormones would have risen up and
killed him if he had.

He wanted to convince himself that Wolfram was wrong and that he was fully capable of taking
care of his own…problem.

But that would have been a lie.

A downright lie.

Because in comparison to what he’d just experienced, and what his hormones where gleefully
ramping up to experience again right now, what he’d been doing on his own was, well, child’s
play.

And this…this was the real thing.

Or at least, it was much closer than he’d ever be able to get on his own.

Yuri sighed, feeling all the bones in his feet begin to curl in on themselves.

‘I’m the king’ he thought to himself. ‘It’s time I let people treat me like one, right?’

An image of a sheik’s tent and a harem of scantily clad maidens peeling grapes, fanning him with
palm fronds and sucking on his toes popped unbidden into his head.

This thought, and the thought that inspired the thought, was so absurd, so absurdly un-Yuri, that
he had no choice but to laugh out loud at his own folly.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said, not realizing he’d spoken aloud until Wolfram pulled off from his
task to give him a look of devoted disgust.

“Yes, you are,” he said, and then his face softened. “But you’re my idiot.”

Yuri froze, staring at the blond in his lap for a moment, finally allowing himself to remember that
the young prince had only ever wanted to keep him safe and make him happy; no matter how he
groused, he clearly, clearly cared for Yuri.

Why did he never want to accept that fact?

Kind of hard not to, what with the hands and the tongue...

“C-clearly I’m in no position right now to argue with you.”

“No. No, you are not.” A kiss at the base; a tongue swipe over his sac.

Ah-AH!

“Oh…okay,” he breathed out with a shudder.

He was having problems seeing, actually, because it looked like he’d just put his hand to the back
of Wolfram’s blond head. And damned if there wasn’t suddenly silk running between his fingers.

“J-just so you know,” he continued, trying to look elsewhere, but transfixed by the sight of
himself rhythmically disappearing and reappearing. “There will be no re-re-reciprocation h-here…”

Without pausing in his task, Wolfram shook his head, an act that threatened to bend Yuri in half
at the spine.

“Of course not,” the prince said breathlessly, pulling away for a moment. He licked his lips,
turned to place a hot little kiss on the King’s thigh and with a tiny, helpless moan, returned to his
duty with passionate vigor.

And then, having no will left to fight, to argue or to deny it any longer, Yuri closed his eyes,
threw his head back against the stone wall, and gave in…

en fin…
- 1
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The Spot