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Chapter 21
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Wolfram awoke to birdsong. He wasn't sure just how long he'd been dozing, but it also didn't matter to him very much. The memories were slowly piecing themselves back together, nonetheless, as he stretched his body a little, still feeling warm and comfortable.
A nuzzle.
"Hm?"
Sleepily, Wolfram turned his head to the right to see Yuuri lying next to him, curled up against his side contentedly, head on his shoulder. Both of them had their shirts off and Wolfram was still fuzzy about when that happened between them—somewhere between the kissing and the…
Oh, yes… There was that.
Wolfram put a hand to his head, remembering Yuuri kissing him not at all clumsily in the beginning and with a sense of determination and confidence behind it. But the kisses that followed did seem rushed and his inexpert technique began to show soon enough. Wolfram considered stopping it, but his heart faltered with a feeble attempt to push the double black off of him, which Yuuri thoroughly enjoyed. Apparently, making his Wolf surrender was a thrill he had no issues taking advantage of. And, in the end, Wolfram consented and decided to teach Yuuri ways of kissing that would be pleasurable—from the gentle and comforting kind to something that would heighten passion and demand resolution to burning skin that was sensitive to the touch.
Apparently, Yuuri liked them all.
The blond looked down at his own pale chest. There were seven kiss marks that he could see peppering it. The first was on the left shoulder and Wolfram, at the time, raised a delicate eyebrow when he realized that Yuuri was more than capable of creating a love-bite there. A deeply jealous part of him demanded to know how Yuuri learned how to do it, but his mind flashed back to the hallway and Yuuri hissing at him venomously "this new attitude of yours is even more irritating than all of that jealousy I've had to put up with for years and years and years!"
Irritating. His concerns—his fears—irritated Yuuri all this time. I knew this, but…
But those feelings were real, very real. Didn't they matter? Complaints and critiques, chasing Yuuri down hallways, giving advice, straightening his collar… Even if these ways were the only methods he knew of to convey his fidelity and affections, were they really so wrong…?
A deep, throaty hum.
Teeth were sinking in very delicately, making a second mark—this time, on his chest—when Wolfram instinctively took a breath, liking the feeling. He had to make a decision: to let the jealousy rip him apart or to simply let it all go. Yuuri wasn't thinking of anyone else right now, was he? Yuuri was only thinking of Wolfram—only "Wolf."
That was all.
More feelings, more sensations shared between them. Green eyes closed briefly as their bodies writhed against each other.
The blond took a trembling breath and carded his fingers through raven hair. Letting go of jealousy—of the fear of what had been or what could be—was so hard.
Another bite followed, harder than the others and Wolfram took in a sharper breath this time, chin pointed toward the bed's canopy. The blond could feel Yuuri's hands roaming this time, pulling away more of the shirt's material and making an effort to get rid of it entirely. And it didn't matter if the fabric was torn along the way, either, or so it seemed. For, the blond could hear the stitches popping and Yuuri was so carried away that he didn't bother to apologize. (Either that or he wasn't sorry in the first place.)
"Ahh…" he breathed, "…Yuuri, I…"
A throaty hum and another bite sinking in. Wolfram moaned openly this time, unable to hold back. Yuuri had discovered a sensitive place and his body had not been touched in so long like that.
Wolfram's mind drifted between pleasure and pain until Yuuri climbed up, kissed lips with a strange fervor and whispered, "Wolf, I'm at my limit." The blond's neck was being ravaged now—kissed and nipped purposefully, painfully.
"Eh?" Green eyes popped open. His mind snapped back instantly.
"I said," and Yuuri's voice was rough, harsh, "I'm at my limit." His breath caressed pale skin like a warm wave.
R-i-g-h-t… Wolfram rolled his eyes at that, back to himself again. He sighed and scratched the side of his cheek casually. "Do you know how many men have said that line over the centuries?"
Yuuri sat up, straddling Wolfram's hips seductively, breathing hard, and face flushing pink. Black eyes were rich, taking him in with unmasked desire. "I'm telling the truth."
The consort gave a cool, direct stare. "Well, so am I." But he couldn't help having a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. This was a whole new side to the double black that he'd never seen before. "Historically, men have always used the 'I'm at my limit' line and, I promise you, none of them have ever died from having a 'blue day.'" He shrugged nonchalantly against the silk sheets. "So, welcome to manhood. You'll just have to learn to wait for the right time."
"But, this is…!"
"Not it," Wolfram finished for him.
Yuuri, astounded that Wolfram would say such a thing, opened his mouth to counter that argument only to have the blond pat the side of the bed next to him. "There's 'married' and then there's 'married,' Yuuri. I've learned that much. I don't know where we are on that road, but I'd like to think we can continue on together… somehow…"
For as long as it lasts.
Dark eyes still held passion in them and a hand wandered down toward the top button of Wolfram's trousers. "Are you…sure…?" Yuuri had always been so certain that Wolfram would jump at the chance to be with him intimately even if he didn't know exactly what he was doing. This was undoubtedly a surprise. And Wolfram staying his wandering hand was even more so.
A shake of the head "no" and a small smile as he patted the side of the bed next to him again. "No regrets…for you…"
Like a passionate lover, Yuuri leaned in and caressed Wolfram's cheek. "I don't have any…and won't…"
A thin, pleased smile came from the blond this time. "Maybe, there is hope for us after all. And to think I once believed 'hope' and 'love' were lies."
"Hope," Wolfram sighed now to himself as Yuuri snuggled closer to his side with one arm draped over—content with his life and the entire world, or so it seemed.
But "hope" was also a thing trapped in Pandora's Box. Wolfram turned his head to the left, rubbing sleep from his eye, when he spotted something that made him sick inside. Something that was waiting. On his nightstand was a letter addressed to him—scrawled in cruel, green ink.
It was starting again.
One last time.
Wolfram cringed and held Yuuri protectively against him, as though that would keep them safe.
"Damn."
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"Well, I did as you asked," Yozak chuckled into his mug of dark beer. "You said that I should keep an eye on your baby brother again and I did."
He grabbed a cracker off the plate and munched on it with a thin slice of smoked cheese balanced on top. Yozak always thought these two went great together. Leave the fancy wine for the upper classes. Beer and a few commonly good snacks were the stuff of life.
"Anything interesting?" Conrad asked benignly, but he was really fishing. And Yozak loved it when his captain fished.
"Oh, yes. Apparently, our young king finally caught up with his royal spouse outside of the greenhouse."
"The greenhouse?" Conrad put his mug down heavily and gave a serious look. "Don't tell me that they got into another argument."
Yozak picked up an almond, flipped it into the air, and caught it with his teeth—a trick that always won the guys over in the local pub. Conrad always tolerated it with a polite smile. But he, too, really liked the showmanship deep down. "No…" was preceded by a crunch. "In fact, quite the opposite if you understand my meaning." Yozak's sky blue eyes drifted up toward the royal bedroom balcony.
"Seriously?" Conrad whispered in awe, following the spy's gaze. It is beyond belief that they'd ever…this soon…go this far…if at all… He started to picture it in his mind and, just as quickly, he tried to force the explicit images away without wondering, So, who is uke and who is seme? But, somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought lingered.
"Most definitely," Yozak chuckled good-naturedly, cutting into his thoughts. I followed them there at a discrete distance, of course." He munched on another cracker. "And your brother, might I add, can be quite vocal. No mistaking it. I even found myself blushing at one point."
Another cracker. Another soft crunch.
Conrad paled and gulped his drink this time. Sure, he knew that Yuuri and his brother were married, technically speaking, but some part of himself wasn't prepared for that kind of report. There was such a thing as "too much truth."
The spy tried to appear modest. "I knew how you'd feel. So, at that point, I made the guards take a quick smoking break."
He looked into his drink pensively. "I see… Okay, well that is a bit of a relief. And anything that the guards had heard up to that point would certainly give credibility to reports that the king and his consort had consummated something, some way, somehow."
"Oh, and that's not all that's interesting around the castle."
Conrad gave an "Am-I-really-up-to-more-of-this?" kind of look and Yozak readjusted the chair he was sitting in to get more comfortable. This little slice of gossip would be fun, too. "I've noted that our Great Sage has been incredibly hungry today. He had one tea with you and our young king. And, on my way here, I noted that he was having yet another tea with a very pretty lady that you've met before…" He took a quick sip of his beer and added, "Well, not just that but Shinou seems to know her very well, too."
Conrad's face appeared to say Oh, that one. Now, I get it.
Yozak buffed his nails against his chest and examined them expertly. "Now, my next decision is whether to keep myself occupied while avoiding those unattractive, stinky plants outside the Royal Bedroom—which are a total yawn, literally—or to see if you or Lord von Voltaire can think up another mission for me." Though, he wiggled his eyebrows at the "you" part and Conrad smiled somewhat shyly at that.
"A…mission? You always had a way with words," the captain murmured into his drink.
"Deep down, you know very well where my loyalties lie…and who I side with." There was a mixture of flirtation and seriousness in his tone. He drew closer with, "Just tell me what you need and I'll be anything you want."
They met eyes for a brief second across the table.
"Tonight at eight…your room?"
The spy eyed another crumb of cheese. "I'll be waiting."
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How long had that letter been waiting for him on the nightstand? Wolfram didn't know and he didn't want to hazard a guess but couldn't stop himself. Probably, it had been placed there before he'd come into the room with Yuuri—probably. It made him sick at heart to think that someone had been able to sneak in while they were sleeping in each other's arms. No, that wouldn't have been possible. He had the reflexes of a skilled warrior. So, it had to have happened before they'd come in.
He bit his lower lip hard.
I hate this…
Still, the letter waited for him. At first, he'd felt alarmed. Anyone under the circumstances would have. But, now, he realized, he had been called to a greater purpose. On the inside, his heart grew hard and cold. This was the beginning of the end, wasn't it? He, as an angel, would be born soon. And that made all of the pain worth it. But, then again, Yuuri was worth it. And this moment between them—somewhere between love and desire—not quite enough, but a moment shared—made it all worthwhile. For, he knew, in some small part of Yuuri's heart, Wolfram was wanted. What a comforting thing that was.
He could let go of this life now.
The blond looked at Yuuri, taking in his features one last time. He leaned down and kissed the double black on the brow—a soft, gentle feeling that made Yuuri scratch at the place the moment Wolfram's lips left it. But there was something amusing about that, too—so terribly true about their tug-of-war relationship.
Something so honest—
"Goodbye."
The bishonen gently untangled himself from his spouse's embrace, easing himself from the bed and swinging his legs over the edge.
Now that Yuuri's source of warmth was gone, he was slowly curling up in the bed with arms covering his shoulders. Wolfram leaned over, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and wrapped the double black in it. A whispered, "Thanks, Wolf" met his ears and Wolfram returned to his new task.
A callused hand from years of swordplay reached out and took the parchment letter, easily shattering the wax seal, pieces breaking off. The blond steeled himself before reading—determined to face whatever he had to in order to soldier on and, by extension, protect the innocent one who was still sleeping in the bed.
While reading, the blond mouthed the words "Please meet me in your art studio at sunset this evening. I beg of you, please, come—and come alone."His eyes lit up and there was a new strength flowing through Wolfram's heart. At long last, he was going to meet the person who had been causing him such misery. And it was time to put an end to this matter.
For his sake-
For Yuuri's sake-
And, by the look of things, sunset would only be an hour away. He had more than enough time to prepare.
With that, Wolfram stood from the bed, marched himself toward the glowing fireplace—balling up the letter as he went—and tossed the letter inside. Then, he went to the closet to retrieve a fresh shirt. This was a meeting he had no intention of missing. This was it.
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Fanning only made it worse. It was humid, sweaty, and his host's underarms were starting to reek. That got him a complaint that Shinou tried not to pay attention to. Women had the habit of wanting to stay dry under there and the Original King could have cared less. Back in his day, he was on the battlefield and went for weeks sometimes without bathing. What was a few hours? She needed to get over herself.
A pout from somewhere in the back of his mind.
Well, she could just get over that attitude, too. Time to get back to work.
"Hmmm," Shinou scratched his chin, "It feels like I was here not that long ago."
Murata pruned his lips before retorting, "'Not long ago, for you, has no meaning. And, yes, you were here before. Remember Lady Agnes?" Did the sage really need to say more? What The Original King did to the woman was…annoying. (Yes, that's how he decided he'd remember it.) Then again, she did deserve everything she got through "Shinou Justice" because the attempt on a king's life was an act beyond redemption. And, not only that, but Yuuri was his best friend in the world. Nothing and no one could replace him.
Five gardeners poked their faces through the bars, looking totally bewildered. Why were they there with the Great Sage and a very strange, but very pretty, young woman?
"Ummm…'scuse me…?" said the second, pressing his face to the rusty bars as close as he dared. "Why are we here, exactly?"
Murata fished five bracelets out of his pocket and dangled them impishly. "Because of these." He swung them around his index finger briefly and they made a metallic, chiming noise against each other.
"Never seen 'em before in my whole life." The man glanced left and right. "Guys, what say you?"
A general murmuring followed.
Murata smiled toothily. "I see… Well, I took this last one off of you just seconds before shutting you in there."
"You 'ave?"
"Yes."
"Don't believe it…"
Murata gave a shake of the head and turned back to Shinou. "This is tedious at best, but I think this is also the most effective and most discrete way of dealing with our pesky minions over there." He thumbed at them. "And, if we do this long enough, we just might find the original culprit. We'll just have to have you lure more gardeners away, one by one, with the hope of a 'kiss' and I'll deal with the rest." Murata pulled out a small bag of sleeping powder. The powder was handy in the beginning and it was handy now.
"Yes," Shinou agreed, shifting his tight shoulders left and right. "We need to find the offender…the original who started this whole mess," Shinou said, straightening his skirt and then wiping his lower lip with a thumb. That last young whelp of a gardener almost forced a kiss. It was a good thing that a swift kick to the "plumbs" could make a man keel over in a heartbeat.
Shinou liked that part best.
"Time to go," the blond king ordered, eyes straying up and through the wall.
"You sense another so soon? I thought the gardeners were everywhere…delivering Lady Cheri's potted plants."
Shinou went to the door and opened it, saying over his shoulder, "I'm much better at tracing their movements now. And, now that you mention it, there is something rather strange about those plants. They remind me of something…"
Murata's eyes narrowed. "Something?"
He pointed to the bag of sleeping powder that the sage was pocketing. The Original King explained, "Sleeping powder has a variety of ingredients and a very distinct smell…something not unlike those plants…"
Murata narrowed his eyes. "But plants take time to germinate, grow, and bloom!" Yes, it all made sense. "Is that why no one was allowed into the greenhouse?" Murata wondered out loud.
"Very likely."
The dark haired sage took larger steps to keep up with Shinou. "So, their base of operations is the greenhouse?"
"Even with the gardeners under control, it would still be too public to do the actual herbal alchemy. I would think that someplace out of the way would be easier."
"Or, portable," Murata mused, rubbing his chin in thought.
Shinou quirked a grin. "A portable lab? Only you would think of that."
On the opposite side of the castle, hands covered in earth-encrusted gardener's gloves pushed an armoire along on a rusty, old hand truck dolly. The front left wheel didn't roll with the others well, instead making a jaunty dance out of synchronicity with the other wheels. But there was no point in fixing it. It wouldn't be needed much longer anyway. But old things still had a function—in the short-term.
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"W-Wolf?"
Yuuri shivered briefly as he rolled onto his back. The blanket had fallen from him, making his skin cool to the touch and waking him in the process. "Wolfram?" With no answer, the double black covered a yawn, sitting up fully in the bed now.
"Wolf?"
Nothing.
His first guess was that the blond had simply made a trip to the toilet. So, he waited—sitting cross-legged in the bed, ruffling his own black hair while recalling the myriad of kisses shared with his favorite bishonen. More. Yuuri wanted more between them. The scent of skin that smelled of summer and sunshine, a body hard and, yet, soft next to him. A voice that moaned pleasures and practically purred when touched the right way. Yuuri's body and soul craved these intimate touches just between them. But, for now, the silence was deafening.
"Wolf?"
But, when minutes passed and nothing, no Wolfram at all, he decided to check up on him.
"Wol-?" and then a "What?" as he stepped on something. Yuuri looked down at his feet and noticed that he'd trodden on a broken piece of hard, red wax. He picked it up, examining it between finger and thumb. "Strange," he murmured to himself. He looked down only to discover another piece, not quite so big, a few paces off. Yuuri followed it. And, again, there were others that were more like crumbs than pieces—all leading in the direction of the fireplace.
Yuuri flicked the final pieces with his big toe and muttered "weird." Then, his eyes caught something half burnt in the fireplace.
"A green ink letter!"
The double black reached in, careful not to burn his hand, and retrieved it. The letter had been balled-up and tossed into the far right side of the fireplace. Wolfram's name was still there as "Wolfr" with soot and black edges all around. Gingerly, Yuuri opened it—trying not to rip the paper and, at the same time, to avoid getting the poison ink on his hands.
In this burnt and ashy state, most of the letter didn't make much sense. Then again, they never really did so in the first place. Yuuri tried again, reading aloud, barely making out parts of sentences written in Mazoku script:
"My darling
Please forgive this lover for not writing you sooner. The fault is entirely"
Yuuri narrowed his eyes with resentment at the word "lover." Wolfram was not this person's lover and never would be.
"A better life awaits you. But, my dearest, I am certain that you have many
Please meet me in your art studio at sunset this evening. I beg of you, please
It is my heart's desire to be alone with you."
Yuuri gritted his teeth hard. That letter was so personal, so insulting. It hurt him—hurt them—on so many levels.
"Wolfram's art studio at sunset! That's where they're going to meet!"
He rammed his feet into his shoes angrily and tossed the useless, burnt letter down onto the carpet as he ran for the door, totally forgetting to put on a shirt. Modesty didn't matter anyway—not the kind of modesty that Wolfram preferred. This was important—being with Wolfram right now was important. They would face the worst and then, later, go back to working things out between them.
Wait, Wolf! I'll be there in a minute. Let me stand by your side! I can't let you be alone with this person! I can't!
Yuuri opened the door, smacking it into the wall with a "bang" and ran as quickly as he could through the hallway, passing both of his guards who were sleeping peacefully beside the potted plant outside his bedroom.
The double black didn't notice. And, even if he had, he wouldn't have cared.
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