Author: shakethebones.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou.
Genre: Introspective and retrospective.
Rating: PG-13, to be safe.
Word Count: about 900 words.
Spoilers: Since I've only seen like, five episodes – not a whole lot for me to spoil. It's freaky how quickly I've formed an UST!obsession for this series. Dx
Challenge/Inspiration: KKM fanfics and Placebo, my own personal religion.
Suggested Listening: "My Sweet Prince" - Placebo.
Summary: "The hold on his heart is difficult to understand when he is alone, but when confronted by black hair and laughing eyes, he knows exactly what it is and why it won't let go." Conrad's thoughts turn to the only person who makes the fire inside him burn all the hotter. (Conrart/Yuuri)
TAKE.
A KKM fanfic.
Me and you baby still flush all the pain away.
So before I end my day…remember -
My sweet prince you are the one.
- My Sweet Prince, Placebo.
Wolfram is looking across the room to where Yuuri stands, joking with Gunter, and Conrart finds himself wishing, for the first time in his entire life, that he was an only child.
The desires are two. They clash inside him, clawing at each other and his insides in a brash effort to reach the top of his conscious.
Conrart's release of air is audible as Wolfram turns his attention away once more.
Yuuri lifts a hand to tap Gunter on the shoulder, seeking his attention. It's difficult not to notice just how eager the silver-haired man is to give Yuuri his full concentration; violet eyes sweep slender form. Conrad's eyes don't leave Gunter's.
He knows he's glaring, but he's not sure he can help it. These conflicting emotions inside his head, inside his chest, inside his (well, he'd call it his soul, but he wasn't sure he'd ever had one) very being…they tear at him. They break down his control and his restraint and they make him want to take.
He has never wanted anything in his life more than he has wanted this – his king, his majesty, his master.
The hold on his heart is difficult to understand when he is alone, but when confronted by black hair and laughing eyes, he knows exactly what it is and why it won't let go and knows that he would die if it did.
Face upturns and lips begin to move, explaining something he's sure, but there is a buzzing in his head that stretches to his ears and drowns out all sound. Lips – rosy and soft and moving. Pupils dilate and his breath catches and a shiver, long and drawn out, runs up his spine before making the return journey down through his chest and straight into his groin.
Conrart's cheeks flush as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He crosses his legs quickly, arms wrapped around his middle as the spark of lightning inside him crackles. He is consumed with controversy – is this dominating, controlling thing that writhes in his heart and sucks at his stomach a sensation he should deny or one he should revel in?
It's so WRONG. The bond he feels as godfather serves him nothing but agony. If only. If only -
A noise escapes his own lips – a strange, breathy sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp and a sigh.
The pleasure that rushes through his veins at the very sight of his lord's dark eyes and darker hair is instantly halted when he sees the arm that Gunter has lifted and casually lain across Yuuri's shoulders.
He is on his feet in an instant.
The ten steps it takes for Conrart to reach the other side of the room do little to banish the jealousy that has replaced the blood in his veins and the logic in his brain.
His thoughts rush more during that short trip than in all the seconds spent sitting in a chair in the corner of the room with lust in his stomach and yearning in his chest.
Conrart pulls Gunter's arm from the Maou's shoulder with calm tenacity, fingers digging into skin with an intentional sort of pain. Gunter looks up in surprise and immediately feels that he has made a mistake. He allows the half-demon to move him away from Yuuri. There is a look in Conrart's eyes that is unmistakable, and so Gunter simply lowers his gaze and tries not to notice Yuuri's confusion beside him.
"Propriety," Conrart says, voice eerily calm and almost friendly.
Gunter swallows loudly and nods. He goes to sit with Wolfram.
Yuuri, whose bewildered looks and curious questions have gone ignored, turns his wide eyes to Conrart and turns his head to the side. Conrad is reminded of a doe.
Conrart lays his hand on his king's shoulder, and guides him slowly into his chair.
The overwhelming urge to touch more than just his shoulder (slide his hand up Yuuri's arm to his shoulder and his neck and into his hair and he'll pull the king's face up to his and take, take, take-) goes disobeyed but not unacknowledged.
Conrart smiles. "Propriety, your majesty."
END.