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Bloom	By : chayron Category: +G to L > Kyou Kara Maou Views: 9095 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Bloom
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 46-Part 46
- 47-Part 47
- 48-Part 48
- 49-Part 49
- 50-Part 50
- 51-Part 51
- 52-Part 52
- 53-Part 53
- 54-Part 54
- 55-Part 55
- 56-Part 56
- 57-Part 57
- 58-Part 58
- 59-Part 59
- 60-Part 60
- 61-Part 61
- 62-Part 62
- 63-Part 63
- 64-Part 64
- 65-Part 65
- 50
- 51
- 52
Disclaimer: I don’t own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I’m not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.
Summary: With Yuuri’s upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.
A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 21. Eldara – 32. Halea – 20. Athara – 18. Gwendal – 54.
A/N 2: Greta doesn’t exist.
A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.
A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.
A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram’s uncle exists.
A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter’s name is a bother.
Bloom
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by Anonymously Awesome
Part 51
Other than the sounds of horses whinnying and stamping, the stable was silent. Karela and Conrart kept their antics as quiet as possible. They both knew that they didn’t have much time before someone entered the stable. The occasional, close-straying soul wasn’t much of a problem since any sensible person would make themselves scarce at the suggestive sounds of rustling straw and muffled moaning. But not Yozak. Yozak would definitely investigate the source of the noise.
“I hope you can use his jealousy to your advantage,” Karela whispered into Conrart’s ear. He noticed the brunet seize up pleasurably and couldn’t help biting on his earlobe to elicit a similar reaction.
The older man didn’t answer disputing that. It was simply going to end in a routine row. It wasn’t going to make any difference. He might as well fuck Karela to his heart’s content; the captain was too naïve. And Karela didn’t care about any of this.
The annoying, useless conversation with Karela had put Conrart off. The lustful haze caused by Karela’s proximity had dissipated and he found himself wondering what he was doing in this man’s arms. The captain was going to leave in a few days and forget all of this like a bad dream while he and Yozak would have to piece their dysfunctional relationship back together all over again. Until the next time.
Karela quickly discovered that Conrart was limp. Another wave of irritation rose within him. He hadn’t expected this. This was supposed to have been an exciting tryst. Why did Conrart have to be so difficult?
Conrart leaned against the wall while Karela’s deft fingers tried to work some life into his penis. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, willing his shoulders to relax. Karela’s mouth pressed against his again, and Conrart put his own strength into the kiss. His tongue rubbed against Conrart’s suggestively while his hand stroked him. The brunet felt his mind start to cloud.
Karela’s hands pushed Conrart’s trousers and underwear down and out of his way. Finally, Conrart’s expressions started to become similar to those he had witnessed when he had been intimate with Yozak. The captain shrugged his jacket off and tossed it onto the mound of hay next to the horse. In a few hurried moves he arranged it into a make-shift bed. He shoved his own trousers down to his knees and flopped onto his jacket, motioning for Conrart to join him.
The captain looked funny while sitting on his jacket with his trousers half-way down and his large cock up. Conrart had always found male genitals to be somewhat funny. The mix of their vulnerability and firmness aroused him but also gave him a sense of hilarity. It usually lasted only up to the point of the said genitals being pushed into him.
Karela watched the brunet kicking his boots off and getting rid of his trousers and underwear completely. Conrart seemed to be eager, which pleased the captain.
“Come here,” Karela grunted catching the older man’s hand and pulling him on top of himself.
Conrart huffed, landing face-first onto Karela’s chest. While he was rubbing his sore nose, the captain rolled them over, getting in between the older man’s thighs and trapping him underneath. Their cocks rubbed against each other pleasurably and, to prolong the feeling, Karela wrapped his hand around them. He stroked, squeezing lightly. Conrart sighed in satisfaction and shuffled around, getting more comfortable on the jacket. Inhaling a lungful of air then exhaling, he let himself relax while Karela’s hand worked on them.
Several moments later Karela started digging around the pockets of his dangling trousers. The small bottle of lube was where he had put it – in the right pocket. He coated his fingers and, after some struggle, managed to cork the bottle with one hand. Conrart pulled his legs up and spread them wider.
Karela grinned at him. “So obedient.”
Conrart rolled his eyes. He tensed as the captain’s fingers pressed against his ass. Trying to relax his muscles as much as possible, he breathed in and out a few times. The digits slipped in almost effortlessly. Conrart lay still while they were pushing in and out of him, spreading the lubricant, getting him accustomed to the stretch.
That was how Yozak caught them – Karela with his fingers up Conrart’s ass.
Over the bolted gate, Yozak’s eyes scanned the two men’s entangled bodies. Conrart’s eyes met his but, instead of shock and shame, Yozak saw only a mild surprise in them. Karela turned his head to check what had caught Conrart’s interest and didn’t seem to be embarrassed either. He was obviously annoyed by the disturbance. He shoved his fingers up Conrart’s ass again, making the surprised brunet blink at Yozak again. That was the last straw.
“I said he’s off limits!” Yozak hissed, unbolting the gate. He lunged forward through the gate and grabbed Karela by the back of his collar, peeling him off Conrart in one firm tug.
The shirt strained, but the fabric held. Karela whirled around, brushing the offending hand off. “He didn’t seem to mind,” he snorted.
Yozak glared at him then was distracted by Conrart stumbling to his feet, his cock bobbing up and down. The sight nearly made the red-head growl in anger.
“I really didn’t,” Conrart confirmed while staring into Yozak’s eyes. The disbelief and pain in them made Conrart feel both anger and regret.
Yozak took both of the half-naked men in again. He shoved Karela out of his way. “I know what you’re doing!” he hissed, pushing against Conrart’s chest. “It’s not going to work!”
Conrart shoved back at him. “Oh really? Then why don’t you just leave and let us finish?”
Karela nearly laughed at the look on Yozak’s face. He had not expected that; Conrart had clearly always been the one to apologize for everything.
“Fine,” Yozak said suddenly. “Fine,” he repeated, walking backwards. He nearly tripped over a clump of straw. “That is exactly what I’ll do.” He pushed the gate wide open. “You can just fuck each other to your hearts’ content.”
“It’s not like I need your permission,” Conrart spat.
Yozak slammed the gate shut and walked off furiously.
Karela turned to look at Conrart. “Now you’ve done it.”
Conrart shook his head angrily.
“Really, once you get fed up with him, come to Raizgad.”
Conrart gave him a look. “I hear von Ashira is looking for a bride for you.”
Karela chuckled. “That doesn’t mean I can’t have a casual fling on the side.”
“I’m not interested in that.”
“But you were just now.”
“Has anybody told you that you talk too much?” Conrart couldn’t help biting. “A complete and utter turn off.”
Karela laughed. “Indeed.” He winked at Conrart and lowered his eyes to the older man’s crotch. “I know what would shut me up, though.”
“Oh, piss off. Never again.”
_ _ _
The plans to build a dock at Lesa’s port, not to mention the contract with a shipwright in Madesa were serious matters. Yuuri had read through them carefully then sought out Gwendal’s opinion on the problem. Summoned to the king’s study, Gwendal had shared his insight and now was waiting for the king to finish inspecting the documents for the second time. From the armchair where he was seated comfortably, he kept glancing at the king. Shibuya seemed to have a hard time concentrating on the contracts: he kept looking out of the window. Gwendal knew who was there. Just before he had been summoned, he had been watching them as well.
Von Voltaire followed the king’s gaze outside the window. Wolfram and von Ashira were sitting on a bench near the entrance to the Royal Garden. They could have easily gone farther into the garden where the sprouting bushes would have hidden them from everyone’s eyes. That had obviously not been von Ashira’s plan. He clearly wanted to be in plain sight. If anyone asked him, he would obviously answer that it was because Wolfram had difficulties walking and there was no need for him to overexert himself. Gwendal knew better, though. He found it annoyingly amusing that von Ashira was still playing his games. It did work, though. Shibuya hadn’t managed to get past the first page of the contract. He kept returning to the same paragraph.
“We will still need more ships to expand our navy there, so why don’t we order a few ships at Hadur as well?” Yuuri suggested suddenly. He looked at Gwendal. “That way, construction would go faster and we would be able to compare the quality of the ships while staying with the superior shipwright.”
Von Voltaire inclined his head, agreeing. “Yes, this is a good idea. The thing is, however, that Madesa already has a better reputation of building superior ships than Hadur. The contract has been composed with that in mind.”
“Oh. I see.” With a bored sigh, Yuuri pushed the documents aside. “When is von Ashira leaving?”
Gwendal glanced at the younger man. Shibuya was much more honest with his feelings than him. Von Voltaire shrugged. “In five days or… When he gets bored?” he ventured a guess. The exact date given by von Ashira didn’t mean much. Gwendal was certain that, under certain circumstances, the duke’s stay could be prolonged indefinitely.
“Any chance of that happening in a day or two?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I don’t like them being together,” Yuuri muttered, staring through the window.
Gwendal wondered if the king had intended to utter that sentence aloud. “Well, as long as they intentionally choose a visible place to interact at, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Yuuri pursed his lips in discontent. “I think this has been done with a rather different intention.”
“I agree.”
The king turned his head to give von Voltaire a look. With a sigh, Gwendal lowered his eyes. He felt guilty for having deliberately ignored and belittled the king’s side of the story for so long. It was not that he didn’t want to care, it was that he had been too angry with the king to act differently. He was still unsure about the king’s intentions, but he knew that Shibuya was honest to a fault. It was time to end this fruitless animosity.
Feeling uncomfortable, von Voltaire tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’m not certain that I’m the right person, but if you need someone to talk to…” Already, before the words had left his mouth, Gwendal realized that he was being a hypocrite. It was actually him who wanted someone to talk to.
The king blinked slowly while his eyes were searching von Voltaire’s face. He seemed neither surprised nor offended as he recognized the suggestion for what it was – a proposal of truce. He gave the older man a tired smile.
“Everything’s so simple yet so complicated at the same time.”
Gwendal nodded, agreeing. He couldn’t have said it better.
“I want…” Yuuri trailed off, thinking. “I want him to trust me.”
Gwendal leaned back in his chair. “Have you actually done anything to earn his trust?”
Yuuri shot him an edgy look, but von Voltaire wasn’t mocking him. It was really a question that he had to answer to himself.
The king shook his head. “No, I obviously haven’t. And lately… I think the more I push, the more convinced he gets that I’m not serious, that this is just some kind of persistent whim that will pass in a day or two. He isn’t even taking me seriously. It’s… It’s not easy. I don’t know what I should do.”
Von Voltaire watched the younger male for a couple of moments. It was an awkward situation that he had brought upon himself. “To be honest, I think you want everything to happen too fast and too soon,” he said. “It’s natural that he feels reluctant.”
“I know that perfectly well, but I’m afraid that he will run as soon as I give him space.”
Gwendal couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. He found that he was able to see some similarities between Yuuri and von Ashira. Was he in a similar situation as Wolfram? Gwendal laughed again. “But there’s no guarantee that he won’t run later,” he said, “when he finally has enough time and space to think. Or do you think you’re capable enough to keep him preoccupied for years?”
Yuuri’s face reddened slightly. “No, of course, not. But if I let go of him now, he will never even consider the idea of staying with me. He will just run away. That’s why I want to keep pushing until he gives in.” Yuuri reddened even more at the incredulous look on Gwendal’s face. Yuuri was no less amazed by his own approach to the matter. He could hardly believe with how much resolve he was going after Wolfram. After a man. He felt full of excitement, the amount often making him feel giddy. He liked these changes more and more. It somehow… it somehow made him feel powerful.
“And is this really not a whim that will pass in a day or two?” Gwendal asked him.
Yuuri shook his head slowly. “I… No. It’s not just curiosity if that’s what you mean. Besides, we have known each other for a long time. It’s…different. I…I want to make him mine.” Yuuri chuckled at the look on von Voltaire’s face. “Yes, I’m surprised as well. I would have never thought I’d ever say that.”
The older man shrugged. “Well, if that’s how you feel… But what does he want? Does he feel anything for you other than nostalgia?”
Yuuri sighed; Gwendal certainly knew where to hit his confidence. “I’m sure that he does.”
“Did he say that?”
“No, he didn’t. He actually denied it.”
Gwendal’s eyebrows rose. “Why are you so certain, then?”
The king gave him a self-assured smile. “I just am. I think I know him well enough to be certain of that.”
“So basically, what you think is that it’s only a matter of determination and time?”
Yuuri was aware of irritation in von Voltaire’s voice. It was the same kind that he was always able to detect in Wolfram’s. For some reason, it seemed that his steadfastness annoyed them both. He didn’t understand why. “For the most part, yes,” Yuuri confirmed. “I have to somehow make him realize that he can trust me. Nothing of the sort that happened back then will ever happen again.”
“Are you certain?”
Yuuri sighed. “How can one be absolutely certain of anything? We are talking about feelings here. They keep changing and evolving all the time. I can only do my best, right?”
“Indeed.”
A few moments later, Yuuri pushed his chair away from his desk. “Let’s go join them.”
Gwendal looked uncertain. “Err…”
“You have probably got many things to discuss with von Ashira just like I have with Wolfram,” Yuuri said, standing up. “Five days is a short time. Then again, it can be incredibly long for some.” He wasn’t looking at Gwendal but he didn’t even need to. He could imagine the older man’s somewhat confused and embarrassed face. Yuuri walked over to the door. It was best to just leave the “True Love potion” incident alone. He turned to look at Gwendal. “Tell me, has he come here with an intention to pursue you?”
For a moment, von Voltaire thought about not answering or answering something vague but then changed his mind. He nodded. “Yes, it would seem so.”
“Were you aware of that?”
Gwendal gave the king an insulted look. “Of course not!” It wasn’t entirely true, though. He had had a vague feeling that von Ashira was being suspiciously too flirty with him in his letters but he had mostly put it down to his infamous quirks. Mostly.
Yuuri turned away. He opened the door. “I should flog him, but since everything has turned out for the better… No, I shall flog him after all.” It was too quiet behind him, and Yuuri turned to look at von Voltaire. “I’m joking.”
“Are you? Doesn’t feel like it.”
Yuuri grinned at him. “Would you like me to flog him, though?”
Gwendal didn’t grin back. “No. He might enjoy it.”
_ _ _
Sprawled on the bench, Wolfram looked like a cat sunning itself. Eldara leaned against the back of the bench as well and looked up at the blue sky. He felt his scalp warming up under the sun. He wished he could be just as relaxed as the blond. There were only five days left until his departure, and he felt regretful.
“So, what did you want to discuss?” Wolfram asked him. “Or did you invite me here just to piss Gwendal off?” he wondered while absently pointing at the castle windows.
Eldara chuckled. “I should have married you after all.”
Wolfram didn’t find it funny. “Don’t joke about it.”
“I’m leaving in five days.”
“Yes, I know that. To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect you to leave so soon.”
“It’s nearly been a month.”
“So it has. But you know what I mean.”
Eldara reclined his head again to stare at the white clouds. “There isn’t much point in me staying here any longer,” he muttered.
“Hmm? Why? The sex wasn’t good? Or have you lost interest after getting into his pants?”
“Cynical as always.”
“So which is it?”
“Neither.”
“Oh?” Wolfram looked at the older man. The duke’s dark-lavender hair nearly shone pink under the intense sunlight. His face was tense, regretful. Wolfram let out a bitter laugh. “It seems that both of us are running away for the same reason.”
Eldara kept staring at the sky, his eyes unfocused. Wolfram was right and it annoyed him.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Wolfram muttered. “It was never a possibility. You live in two different countries separated by hundreds and hundreds of kilometers of land and sea. You’re better off considering it as no more than a passed challenge.”
“Trying to rationalize it doesn’t make it any easier, you know.”
“Well. Maybe someday you’ll retire, leave it all to your offspring and come here.”
“That’s bullshit. By that time I’ll be an old codger and he’ll still look like he is in his forties. I won’t even be able to get it up anymore.”
“Then you’d better hurry up and start making those kids. The sooner you start, the sooner they grow up and take over.”
“I’d rather marry you. Less hassle.”
“Stop spouting nonsense. I’m not keen on being a replacement.”
“Hmm… And yet you almost went through with it.”
“I was being stubborn and stupid.”
“Indeed.”
Eldara’s face sobered up. “If you reject him now, you’ll be left wondering how it could have been for the rest of your life.”
Wolfram sighed. “Yes, I keep thinking about that. Arrgh!”
Startled, the duke turned to him.
“It’s just so annoying! It was so simple with you!”
“Was it?”
“Well, no. But…”
“Scary, isn’t it? Going in blindly… If you think too long, someone might steal him.”
“I wish them luck.”
Eldara chuckled. “Would solve all problems, wouldn’t it?” He patted Wolfram’s hand. “Maybe later, when you feel less insecure. Until that happens, however, you’ll have to keep fueling his interest in yourself.”
Wolfram gave him a disbelieving look. “You mean ‘leading him on’?”
The duke winked at him. “Not if you give in in the end.”
“You are an asshole.”
Eldara threw his hands apart with a shrug.
“Is this what you’re planning to do with Gwendal?”
“Yep. I’m certain, however, that you won’t forget me either.”
“What an asshole,” Wolfram repeated. “Why don’t you just found a harem for yourself?”
“That’s boring. Where’s the challenge in that?’
The blond rolled his eyes.
“I’ve left a little gift for you in your room,” Eldara said, giving him a sly smile. He leaned closer to the blond. “Just in case your nights have become lonely.” The duke leaned in even closer and, uncertain how to react to his close proximity, the blond squirmed. They hadn’t even kissed since the termination of their engagement, and Wolfram felt confused about this unexpected act of intimacy.
“Umm? What is it?” Then, over the duke’s shoulder, he noticed two figures walking towards them. “Really?” he muttered. “When will you stop that?”
“Probably never.”
Eldara’s breath caressed his ear, and Wolfram shivered. “I ought to hate you,” he muttered.
“It would make sense,” Eldara agreed, leaning away finally.
“I do know that somewhere in your twisted mind you do like me a lot, though.”
Eldara chuckled. “Indeed. Well, isn’t this just sweet?” He turned his head at the sound of the footsteps and pretended to have become aware of the two men only now. He stood up and bowed. “Your Majesty. Your Highness. How wonderful of you to join us!”
_ _ _
Wolfram noticed the easel as soon as he had stepped into his room. The average-sized easel with canvas resting on it stood almost in the middle of it, in a well-lit place in front of the windows. Next to the easel there was a box with tubes of paint. A handful of brushes and a painter’s palette were also there, on a small stool.
The blond walked over to the goods and inspected them. It had been a long time since he held a paintbrush. He suddenly felt very nostalgic. Painting was a hobby that he used to enjoy but had abandoned when he left for Lesa Fort. That was nearly a year ago.
The tools and the easel were brand new. Yuuri had outdone himself this time. This was getting repetitive. Sighing, Wolfram picked up one of the brushes again and threaded his fingers through the soft hairs. He already wanted to try it out.
When Yuuri entered Wolfram’s room, he found the blond sitting on a stool in front of the easel, holding a brush. He suddenly realized that he had missed the sight of Wolfram painting.
“Already painting?” Yuuri asked, smiling. He walked over to the easel and took a look at the canvas. It was still empty.
Wolfram shook his head. He drew a few more tentative lines and circles in the air. “It’s been such a long time that I still need to get my hand used to the brush again.”
“Oh, I see.”
Yuuri glanced at the window then looked around the room. “What do you want to paint?”
Wolfram shrugged.
“How about me?” Yuuri asked, grinning at his own impudence.
“I have already painted you before.”
“Yes, but that was cubism, wasn’t it? Now you can draw a more realistic version of me.”
Wolfram gave him a look. The king didn’t seem to be either shy or embarrassed. He was giving Wolfram a flirty look. He certainly seemed to be more mischievous than embarrassed.
“I will have to get some turpentine first,” Wolfram said. “It should be somewhere in the storage room.”
“Do you want me to get it for you?”
“No, you won’t find it in that mess.”
Yuuri watched him take up the crutch and make his way to the door. Wolfram had become accustomed to using one crutch and was moving around quickly. He was going to get well in no time. And then leave. Frowning, Yuuri watched the door close behind the blond’s back.
Left alone, Yuuri looked around the room. The fish tank was still there, near the bed, the fish swimming merrily inside it. Yuuri walked over to one of the chairs next to the wall and took it. He pushed it over in front of the easel and sat down. He shifted around, crossed his legs then uncrossed them. It took him a few moments to get ready to pose in all his splendor.
A couple of minutes passed, but Wolfram hadn’t returned. Idly, the king’s eyes swept the room again. Almost naturally, they returned to the blond’s bed, where he caught sight of a leather bag protruding from behind of one of the pillows. It seemed as if it was partly hidden. Yuuri stared at it for a few moments then, curiosity getting the better of him, left the chair and approached the bed. Rounding it, he stopped right in front of the bag, but now wasn’t able to see anything due to the pillow covering it. He lifted the pillow. He couldn’t tell anything by the bag’s shape. It was, however, a very expensive-looking bag. Well-sown, sturdy, decorated with a few silk tassels and several gold clasps.
The king faltered a little before untying the bag but then continued to go through with it in quick, assured tugs at its tie. His eyes widened at what was inside.
A wooden cock. A smooth, shiny wooden cock with two wooden balls.
Amazed, Yuuri stared at the piece. There was also a slip of scribbled paper next to it and a jar with some sort of liquid inside. He took the small note and read it:
“I hope this will jolly up your lonely nights.
Thank you for the pleasant memories.
E.”
Yuuri stared at the round, black letters that were forming neat lines. He felt foolish. Embarrassed and foolish. While he was trying to woo Wolfram with an easel, von Ashira was doing that with a wooden cock. Which one did Wolfram prefer?
Hurriedly, Yuuri shoved the note back into the bag and tied it again. He fluffed up the pillow and covered the bag. He was just in time to settle back into his chair as the door opened and Wolfram stepped in. The blond walked over to the easel, sat down on the stool and started mixing the colors on the palette. He was going to need some green and quite a lot of gray.
“It will take at least a week. Maybe even a few,” Wolfram warned after a few minutes of silence.
Yuuri nodded. “That’s alright. Actually the longer, the better.”
Wolfram let out a soft sigh. Yuuri really didn’t seem to realize that, first, he would normally need to draw a sketch of him. So ignorant and naïve.
Something flopped down behind them, and they turned around to see that one of the pillows had fallen over to reveal the bag behind it.
“Snooped around, didn’t you?” Wolfram said reproachfully, turning his head back to Yuuri.
“Ugh. Sorry. I don’t know why I…”
The blond continued to mix the colors. “It’s fine. So what do you think about it?”
Yuuri gave him a look. The expression on Wolfram’s face wasn’t exactly mocking, it was somewhat regretful as well.
“That I would like to see you use it.”
Wolfram’s eyebrows rose. He looked up at Yuuri. The king found the look on his face hilarious. Two could play this game.
“Mmm? What about using it yourself?”
Yuuri grinned. “On you?”
Wolfram grunted. “No, you idiot. On yourself.”
“Thanks, but no, thanks.”
Wolfram chuckled. “You never know. You might just like it.”
“I highly doubt that.” Yuuri faltered. “Well…maybe. If you tried using it on me.”
“Just drop it.”
“Fine.”
For a few moments, the king sat quietly, watching Wolfram working on the colors. “So which one do you prefer,” he asked finally, “the cock or the easel?”
“Just drop it, Yuuri,” Wolfram repeated. He couldn’t help chuckling, though.
“It pisses me off.”
Wolfram rolled his eyes. Yuuri was jealous needlessly, but it felt pleasant.
“So which one?”
“Oh for gods’ sakes,” Wolfram muttered. “How about both? I will use the easel during the day and the cock at night?”
The king frowned at him. “That pisses me off even more.”
TBC
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