Title: Delicious
Author: Tsutsuji
Fandom: Kyo Kara Maou!
Characters/Pairing: Yuuri x Murata; vaguely implied Yuuri x Wolfram
Rating: PG13
Warning: yaoi, suggestive content. Spellchecked, not beta'd.
Wordcount: 600
Inspired by a prompt in the Drabble123 "sex" prompt table, #14: Delicious, but not written for that challenge. Also for Starrose17, because I swore to her I was going to write some mutual MuraYuu someday!
Disclaimer: Characters and settings are the property of Tomo Takabayashi and associates, and Tsutsuji is just an overimaginative fangirl who's not making any money off of this.
Summary: Yuuri discovers that Murata tastes like green grass and fresh water...
Yuuri admitted, reluctantly, and only to himself, that Wolfram might have won him over sooner and more completely if he hadn't happened to find out by accident - he was pretty sure it was an accident, on his part, at least - how good Murata tasted.
He imagined (because he'd never yet found out first hand) that Wolfram would taste like a combination of hot chili peppers and his mother's perfume, with an aftertaste of sword metal (and possibly, a hint of that paint he used, but he hoped no one could taste that bad who was still alive).
Murata tasted so much nicer. He found out, one moonlit evening back on Earth when they were goofing around out in the yard so late that it got too dark to see and they fumbled into each other, that Murata tasted like Earth: like the woods and fields where he'd played as a child, like green grass and fresh water, like a warm breeze on a moonlit night...
And, wait, what was that flavor, there? In the hollow of Murata's throat, something that reminded Yuri of a cool lime drink on a hot day... And there, another intriguing taste below his collarbone that he couldn't quite place, so he lapped at it again - given permission, he assumed, by his name whispered breathily and by fingers twisting in his hair.
Murata's hand rested on his waist, then curled into a fist, knuckles brushing his hip bone as if, maybe, he was trying not to take hold of something he wanted. Yuuri leaned a little lower, to reach as far as Murata's shirt was opened, and now, along with all the intriguing flavors, he noticed the pleasant feel of smooth skin against his tongue, and the warmth of it on his lips.
This could no longer be an accidental meeting of mouth and skin; there was a shirt in the way, and removing it was a more obviously intentional action. There came a point, though, when Yuuri felt he'd strayed as far as he knew how to stray. He withdrew his curious tongue and moved back, with one hand on Murata's shoulder and one on his hip.
"Is that all you want to do?" Murata asked. He sounded amused, if a little breathless, and when Yuuri looked up he was grinning, but there was enough moonlight to see the - highly unusual, Yuuri thought - glint of uncertainty in those timeless black eyes.
"Not really, but I don't know what else I should do, or how... " Yuuri said helplessly, laughing a little, awkward as ever. "Aren't you supposed to be my adviser or something, anyway?"
For a second, Yuuri thought Murata's eyes seemed as hard and dark as onyx; then the moonlight flashed off his glasses and he smiled, teeth gleaming white in the pale, silvery glow.
"I am, if you want me to be," he said.
Yuuri hmm'd that he did, so Murata leaned forward and down, and picked up with his tongue on Yuuri's stomach, just above the waistband of his shorts - right where Yuuri had left off on him - and showed him the rest of the way.
A little while later, Yuuri dropped to his knees beside Murata and knelt there, leaning against him and catching his breath. Murata nuzzled against his neck, one hand on Yuuri's chest over his racing heart.
"I can't believe..." Yuuri panted. "You actually seemed to... like that?"
"Mmm-mm," Murata murmured positively. The vibration of his voice and the flick of his tongue under Yuuri's ear made him shiver, in a good way. "Shibuya Yuuri, you are delicious."
end