This update is a little shorter than usual. I'm posting it early because I wanted to announce that…

NEXT CHAPTER THIS STORY WILL MOVE UP TO AN 'M' RATING. It will be for a scene of sexual assault, and I plan to post it on Wednesday. It will be in a chapter by itself so you can skip it if you want to.

I know it's rude to type in all caps, but I know some people probably don't read the author's note at the beginning, so I wanted to catch their attention. lol…

Anyway, here's the update.

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Wolfram groaned and crawled into bed, curling up on his side. He hadn't been lying about having a headache; the majutsu that Yuuri, a water-wielder, had used on him had left him with throbbing temples and a hint of nausea, almost like when he was forced to ride over water. He was sure he'd feel better in the morning, but in the meantime, he couldn't deal with his mother.

The blond sighed and opened his eyes again on his dim chambers. He could see the moonlight flowing into his room from the window, leaving sharp silver rectangles on the floor. The wind outside was gusty and rattling the glass in spurts. A wisp of cloud drifted across the sky, reflecting moonlight around its edges.

Autumn will be here before long, Wolfram thought, sitting up. From his new angle, he could see the black, hoary shapes of trees waving in the wind. Soon we'll be waking up to snow on the ground. He slid out of bed and went to the glass doors to open them. The wind that blew in was unexpectedly cold, but he still stepped outside. The coolness felt good on his brow. Wolfram leaned on the railing of his balcony, clearing his mind of all his thoughts.

It was nice not to think about Yuuri for a change. He contemplated his horse and Greta's next round of lessons and other trivial things, and he felt his muscles relax a bit. Wolfram stretched his arms up, squeezing the last of the tension out of his shoulders before going back inside. The chill had soaked into his clothes, and he shuffled them off as he closed the window. He let them lay where they were on the floor as he climbed back into bed and rolled up in his blankets.

He closed his eyes. Maybe it's time to consider Yuuri seriously.

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Gunter was pressed tightly against Gwendal's side in the dark, his knee curled over the man's thigh. His body was hot, and the places where their skin touched felt sticky. He sighed, absently rubbing his palm over Gwendal's muscular stomach, and buried his face in his neck. Gwendal, lying on his back, had his arm around him, his hand pressed unmoving against his smooth lower back as if to keep him from moving. The darker mazoku's eyes were glazed from exhaustion and satiety.

"Gunter," he said finally, and Gunter looked up at him.

"Hmm?" he purred, smiling softly.

"Are you hot under the blankets?"

"Well, a bit."

Gwendal tossed the blankets aside, wafting a sudden burst of cooler air over them, and Gunter startled, surprised that Gwendal wasn't ashamed to expose their naked, fluid-stained bodies, even though there was no one else in the room and the doors were bolted tight. Gunter blushed.

"Can I… spend the night here?" he whispered. He didn't think that Gwendal would have waited years to initiate this if he'd meant it to be a one-night fling, but he still wasn't quite sure what they were.

Gwendal's eyes were closed. His arm around Gunter tightened just slightly. "Yes," he grunted in a sleep-muddled voice that showed he was ready to retire for the evening.

Gunter made himself stay awake, looking around the dark, austere room while Gwendal went to sleep. Gwendal's family banner hung on the wall opposite. It was the only decoration in the room, other than their clothes scattered on the floor. There was a closet on the interior wall and a trunk at the foot of the bed. In one corner there was a mannequin wearing Gwendal's quietly glinting armor, and on the exterior wall a pair of glass doors lead to a balcony, like most of the higher-class residents had. The moon was pouring strongly through the glass and falling across the foot of the bed, just touching their feet and making them look silver.

He turned his eyes back up to Gwendal's face to find the man fully asleep. His eyes widened a little at the sight he knew few people to have seen.

Gwendal looked so different in sleep, his hair loosened and his brow glistening with the dried sweat of their lovemaking. He was handsome when he was awake, but even more so in sleep, when his brow was not creased with stress. His mouth hung open just slightly as he breathed, and his muscular chest rolled gently, like a wave on the beach at midday.

The sweat on his body had finally cooled him, and Gunter reached gingerly across Gwendal's body to cover them up again. When he lay back, he sighed. Sleep wanted him badly, but he wanted to watch Gwendal for a while longer.

I'll just have to make sure I get to see it again…

Gunter shivered. Sex with Gwendal had been toe-curlingly good, and he was sure he'd been noisy, though he didn't quite remember. Gwendal had been unexpectedly solicitous afterwards, and Gunter had been appreciative.

As Gunter finally fell asleep, he thought, This has to happen again.

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Yuuri lay on his side, his head resting on his hand as he smiled softly at the sight of Greta sprawled out on her back on the other side of the bed. She was snoring peacefully in her pajamas, though it had taken her a while to get to sleep. She'd been worried about Wolfram, having heard about his headache, but Yuuri had convinced her that Wolfram would be fine in the morning. He himself wasn't sure if it was a real headache or not, but either way, he was certain to have caused it.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy over his bed. A pang of guilt hit him in the stomach as he thought about what he'd done to Wolfram. But when the blond had confessed being worried about him, a whirlwind of emotions had carried him away. He was glad Wolfram had been worried, frustrated by Wolfram's stubbornness, embarrassed by the weakness that had caused him to fall, and angered by the blond's paranoia.

And he'd reacted by attempting to dominate his prideful best friend, to force him to acknowledge Yuuri's feelings. It was painful for Wolfram to deny the existence of something that Yuuri felt so strongly.

Yuuri winced, his frustration ebbing away with the realization that Wolfram must have felt something similar.

Be patient, he told himself. Trying to force Wolfram is only going to make him pull away more.

Closing his eyes, Yuuri sighed. Try to sleep.

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Across the castle, Wolfram was having a dream.

In his dream, it was soon after Yuuri had left. He was sitting beneath his favorite old tree by himself, staring out over the grass through scratchy, moist eyes. He leaned his head back against the tree, staring up at the gray sky through the branches. It looked like rain, but Wolfram didn't care. Yuuri was gone.

"That asshole," Wolfram breathed, reaching up to rub his eyes with his sleeve. He didn't even notice the horse approaching beside him. The man astride it stared at Wolfram for a long time, watching him recover from his bout of shameful tears. A rend in the clouds sent a brief sprinkling of light over Wolfram, his hair sparkling against his will. The man gasped quietly. After a moment, he nudged his horse forward, and Wolfram's eyes snapped to him. But in his dream, the man was just a shadowy figure with no face. The horse he rode was chestnut.

"Are you all right?" the man asked gently, admiring the way the red around Wolfram's eyes highlighted the emeralds set there. But the eyes turned indignant, and Wolfram stood.

"I'm perfectly well, thank you," he said, his voice proud but hoarse from crying. His hands were shaking a little. He clenched them into fists, angry, cheeks burning at having been caught in this condition. He turned toward his own horse to go, but the man kicked his horse into a canter, circling around and blocking him.

Wolfram scowled and stepped back defensively. "What do you want?"

"I want to know who's hurt you so that I may avenge you," the man said, grinning, and for a moment, Wolfram's dream almost showed the man's face. The smile was memorable somehow.

Wolfram tossed his head with a scoff. "I'm no maiden in need of rescuing."

"I'm sure you are not," the man said, urging his horse forward. Wolfram stepped back again, his hand going for his sword. "But for one with as fiery a disposition as you have, if you were able to avenge yourself, I'm sure you would."

The blond growled. "This isn't about vengeance. And it's none of your business." It started to rain. "Anyway, you can't avenge yourself against someone who's gone, can you?"

The man seemed to look over Wolfram, taking in his shape daringly, and Wolfram called his horse. The man made him nervous, somehow, though not exactly afraid.

"You're Wolfram von Bielefeld, aren't you?" the man said. In the dream, Wolfram heard a tinkling of medals on the man's chest. The color purple flashed across his eyes from atop the man's horse as his own horse obediently came around the tree for him. Wolfram mounted and settled into his saddle.

"What of it?"

"Your spirit attracts me," the man declared boldly. "I will take vengeance on the one who has ungraciously spurned you."

"Ha!" Wolfram laughed mockingly. The man's sudden declaration of attraction was nothing new to the beautiful Wolfram. Anyway, Yuuri was in no danger. He was on Earth. "Good luck."

Wolfram startled awake. That was a memory. Why did I remember that now?

The blond had completely forgotten that man. He remembered hearing later that it was a certain person who had come to the castle, but he couldn't remember who it was, and he'd never seen him since. He'd been so distraught at the time at having lost Yuuri that he'd paid no attention to the strange happening.

But now Wolfram sat up, digging in his desk for something to write with. He knew himself; he had to write this down or he would forget in the morning.

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AN

Bye yall. Catch you on the M side!