Chapter 22
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Author's note: A special "thank you" goes out to Sindy, a reviewer of the previous chapter, who had some distinctive lines that I used for Kumiko. It's a little out of context from the review, but the sentiment's the same. *smirk*
Shirtless and fatigued, Yozak was lying on his bed with his right arm draped over the side, resting in a bucket of ice. He'd just dragged himself back from what was supposed to be a "simple assignment" in town keeping tabs on a suspicious character Gwendal believed to be smuggling stolen barrels of spiced wine into human territories. Unfortunately, said character had more than a taste for wine. He had a taste for women as well. And Yozak just happened to notice the petite barmaid from the Trumpet and Dog Tavern being dragged into the alley the second she tried to take the trash out back. The wide hand over her mouth dug into her cheek as she struggled against him. Her muffled shrieks drove out some unsavory Mazoku who chose to leave her to her fate. Yozak, cursed under his breath, straightened his blond wig, hitched up his skirt, stomped into the alley, and gave the man a good dose of feminism right in the happy sacks.
Yozak hit the man so hard that his knuckles bled. But, the jerk—bald head, rotten teeth, and crow-like eyes—had, obviously, received some kind of military training in the past because he got a few punches in before Yozak had him whimpering on the ground grabbing his crotch.
Yozak sighed, feeling his chin and cheek swelling up. There would be bruises tomorrow and he'd have to go see Gisela before making his report to Gwendal. The good news? They had the man in jail now. The bad news? It wasn't for smuggling.
The spy's eyes closed very slowly, his hand freezing and stiff. But, it didn't matter. At least, he wasn't hurting.
The world faded away with a velvet touch.
"Yozak?" a voice said from above him.
Yozak tried to roll over, but his body refused to obey. His hand was unnaturally heavy, cold, dripping. Wearily, he dropped it back into the bucket with a slosh.
"Yozak…" There was an edge in the voice now.
"Hm?"
Blue eyes opened with a squint.
Towering above him was a familiar sight—Conrad. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with something in his hands.
"Wake up."
Yozak rubbed his left eye with his left hand and noticed that his right wasn't in the bucket anymore.
The "just wakening" look on Yozak's face was cute and Conrad smiled at that. The "confused Yozak" expression that came next was even better—alluring, if not amusing.
"So, what happened?" Conrad asked, holding the spy's right hand in both of his. "Your skin is freezing." He rubbed harder. "Can you even feel this?"
Yozak blinked back at him. "Well, to answer your questions: A 'mission' that gave me a little trouble and…'no'."
"You really can't feel this?" Conrad frowned openly and did his best to warm the swollen knuckled hand in his. He puffed some air on it and squeezed firmly at the heel of the hand—working the pressure down to the fingertips.
It was cold. Conrad could feel his fingers getting chilled from the contact. But, he continued anyway.
Yozak watched him with sleepy detachment. If this was a dream, he'd enjoy it. If this was not a dream, he'd deal with any consequences tomorrow.
"It's really unwise to fall asleep with your hand in a bucket of ice, Yozak. Don't do this again," he admonished as he stretched the fingers out. The spy winced but Conrad showed the flesh no mercy. "You'll either get sick or frostbite." He puffed on the hand once more and, this time, he could feel heat coming back into it. "Come to think of it, your face looks like you took a few blows, too."
"I've felt worse," he chuckled back. "In fact, we both have."
Conrad gave a nod to that, remembering their past. It was true. And it was remarkable that they were both still alive after their many battles. Then, he decided to change the subject. "I heard you'd come back…asking for ice from the kitchen..." he explained as he rubbed, "…and, then, you didn't answer my knock at the door... So, I let myself in with your spare key."
"It's not a spare," Yozak corrected. "It's your key."
The ghost of a smile came and went. He frowned a little at himself. "Maybe, I shouldn't have…but I was worried."
The spy quirked a sheepish grin and said, "Worried about me? I'm flattered…not angry…"
"Then, I suppose…I should be going…" Conrad released the hand and moved to stand up, but something had caught onto his sleeve. He glanced down.
Yozak had a hand on the material and was tugging to get his attention.
"Stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly. There was a coy glance from the bed that followed.
"Tonight…?" Conrad tilted his head to one side to regard him and then sat back down. "I guess, someone has to stay here and see to you. Your face is swelling and only just now did I get circulation back into your hand." Then, he leaned over the orange haired man and said, "Plus, sleeping with your shirt off like this will get you sick, too."
"I'm a hopeless case," Yozak agreed easily and moved over so that Conrad could lie next to him.
Conrad turned away slightly, pushed hard, and slipped off his well polished boots. "Give me a minute." With care and respect, he unbuttoned his uniform coat starting at the throat. Then, arms up and the undershirt. The belt was next—followed by trousers hitting the floor.
Lying back with his fingers resting against his chest, Yozak admired the show with the feeling of a purr in his soul. His bedmate was tall and toned. Luckily for him, the room was cool and the muscles stood out a little against the chill.
Brown eyes darted in his direction. "Something?"
"Oh, no," Yozak returned, fighting back a grin. "It's just been awhile…that's all…"
"Agreed," Conrad said gently as he retrieved his clothes from the floor and draped them over the chair next to the closet.
Conrad turned back to see that Yozak had not only turned down the covers but had tucked himself inside. He patted the mattress next to him with a wiggly eyebrow for emphasis. Amused, Conrad "humphed" a kind of laugh as he walked toward the bed in only his standard issue black thong.
Lifting back the covers to get inside, he peeked in at Yozak. His stomach, waist, and legs were well proportioned and beefy. "How did you change out of your trousers so quickly?" It was truly a marvel how fast the spy could shed his clothing.
"Practice makes perfect. And I'm in disguise a lot on my assignments, you see."
"You're right," Conrad said, rolling onto his side while snuggling into the sheets and pulling the blankets up to his neck. As usual, they smelled like Yozak—a kind of earthy, masculine scent edged with spice.
Under the covers, an arm rested across Conrad's waist and he could feel Yozak's chest against his bare back. "I'm trying not to touch you with this hand," the orange haired spy explained, "because it's still freezing cold."
"I don't mind," he returned kindly and placed his hand on top to warm it again. Then, to Yozak's surprise, Conrad guided it to his chest—directly over his heart—fingers linked together. The arm tightened and the two spooned. Their bodies were more than close. They seemed to fit together perfectly.
"Thank you," he said and Conrad turned his head slightly to make eye contact, curious.
"…For…?" Brown eyes searched him for something.
The palm pressed a little into his chest, feeling the beats. "For this… I'm happy."
Conrad smiled to himself at that. "Happy? I wish I could make my brothers happy by doing something simple to help them out. It's frustrating right now."
"So, that's what's on your mind," he said. "I noticed the worry lines. You'll end up like Gwendal if you're not careful."
"I don't really worry about Gwendal all too often," Conrad replied, "he seems married to his work and he's content with that."
Yozak chuckled deviously into his back.
"I amuse you. I'm glad."
Not being able to hold in his mirth, the spy pressed a smile into his back that he could feel quite easily. "I'd say you're right. Gwendal, definitely, does not cuddle his work at night. So, don't worry about that."
"What…are you saying?" He quirked a brown eyebrow.
"Not to tell tales," Yozak began.
"But, you will. Won't you?"
He rested his head against Conrad for a second. "I will…for you…" Then, he continued with, "Your brother spends his nights with someone…just like we do sometimes…if you get my meaning."
"Really? I can't believe…"
There was a laugh at that. He knew more about Gwendal than his own brothers did. "I didn't mean to learn this, but it just kind of happened one night." He hugged Conrad against himself. "Let's just say that his visits to Anissina's Lab aren't just for experiments." And then he added, "Quite a duet…those two can sing." He snickered into Conrad once more and felt an elbow jab at him lightly in the stomach.
"I think that's enough."
"Well, it would be," he said with the glow leaving him a bit, "with the exception of the times that Raven comes to the castle."
"Raven?"
Now, it didn't seem quite so funny anymore. He paused to pick his words carefully. "Deep down…I think she really likes Raven, too. I've seen the two of them at banquets and meetings…and they seem to have that spark…that chemistry… But, of course, your mother…" Your mother knows and doesn't like it. Either way, Anissina's better off single…just like me…
"Oh, I see…"
There was a lull in the conversation. And Yozak wondered, briefly, if he'd said too much. He probably had. In future, he might want to keep more to himself. His relationship with Conrad rolled with the tides—which was much easier than publicly falling for someone who outranked him socially and politically. If things changed, it would be awkward—starting, first, with Gwendal—and he'd have to fight to keep the privacy he had now because Conrad would want to include him in family events. And, no matter how he looked at it, Conrad's family was a little bit warped. "I'm sorry… Maybe, I shouldn't have said anything. Don't think badly of Gwendal and Anissina. And the same goes for the kiddo and your brother, Wolfram. It's just…for some people…love isn't enough." He rested his forehead against his bedmate and thought of the singles around the castle. Married couples were in short supply. "Then again, that's probably true for most people…I think."
There was a quiet moment after that with Conrad's mind being occupied, mulling over what he'd said.
"Yozak?"
"Yes, Conrad?" he said the name gently in his ear.
"Can I ask you something else…?" With them both shirtless, he could feel the heartbeat against his back pick up at the question.
"Hmmm?" A note of curiosity.
"Sleepy? If you are, I'll blow out the candle."
That's it…? That was his question? There was a brief silence.
"Not particularly." A gentle, contented hum followed it. With Conrad in his bed like this, he'd enjoy the warmth and closeness all night long, even if that meant staying awake the whole time. Listening to Conrad's soft sighs stroked his soul. Nothing else was like it. "I'm wide awake now."
"Me, too." He brightened a little, turned, and stretched—resting on his back. Under the covers, he trailed his finger down Yozak's side and said in a rich, sexy voice, "Wanna play cards?"
Yozak laughed boyishly at that, and it made Conrad's heart beat hard. It wasn't often he could do it, because he couldn't tell a joke to save his life. But when he managed to make him laugh out loud, it was pure gold.
Brown hair fell across his eyes, casting them in shadow. It was the only movement. Without shifting his body in the slightest, he asked, "Do you want to play Dragon Dealers?"
"I…dunno…" He felt a blush coming to his face as the finger returned to his side—drawing little swirling patterns and dipping into his navel.
In seconds, Yozak found himself on his back with Conrad on top, pressed into him. Their right hands were laced together. Serious brown eyes met wide blue. There was a hazy lust in them, too. "Let's play a game…of hearts…"
The orange-framed face went from "surprised" to "highly amused." He tightened the grip on their laced fingers. "Okay…we'll play…hearts…" Then, he thought about it. "What happens if I win?" he asked playfully.
"I'll stay in your bed for another night." The words were whispered in his ear. But a mouth slowly took the shell-like ear and bit down into it sensuously. A wet tongue traced the curve.
He threw his head back with a small gasp and asked, "And…if I lose…?"
A kiss behind his ear. The right side of his thong was snapped hard against his skin.
"I'll stay in your bed for a lifetime."
Disbelieving, Yozak shook his head "no" at that. "That's not a promise you can make. What we have now…isn't so bad, huh? Think again." He stroked Conrad's back with his left hand, trying to get him to agree. He just had to. This idea was ridiculous. The last thing Conrad needed was to be chained to a person unworthy of him.
Conrad leaned in. Their foreheads rested together. "I can…and I want to…" Hands caressed thick shoulders and biceps in a single, silky motion.
He's…serious…?
Their lips drew nearer and Yozak arched up to meet him.
Conrad drew back, eyed him suspiciously, and asked, "So, are you going to play or not?"
Mischievous blue eyes looked at him. A hand reached up to brush brown hair away to the side of his face. "Then, I'll be prepared to play…and lose."
"Hmmm… That might take awhile. You're difficult, stubborn, determined, thrill seeking…"
"Yeah," Yozak laughed, "I love you, too."
"Hmmm….Yuuri-kun…"
They were in the park behind the library, holding hands. Kumiko was on her toes, kissing Yuuri slowly and with purpose.
The double black's heart was beating hard and out of rhythm. It was becoming uncomfortable with each second that ticked on. A hundred thoughts came at him at once. Words, voices—speaking, shouting, crying—merged and clashed.
Yuuri's mind flashed. The memory was painful. It burned behind his eyes.
A fanged smile grinned at him. "If I do my job right, when this is all over with…" Trouble glared defiantly with Wolfram's face "Wolfram will be able to look deeply into your eyes…and feel…nothing."
"And you can do that…permanently?" Anger boiled up inside of him so quickly, he didn't think he would be able to contain it. Then, all too easily, his control slipped. I won't allow it!" he heard himself roar back.
Yuuri remembered the feeling of his body wanting to change. His eyes threatening to turn into dark slits as his voice deepened.
"I've been doing it for awhile now!" Trouble bellowed and immediately threw up a shield, palms flat pressing it into place. A blast of blue light hit the purple barrier and ricocheted into the wall.
Yuuri's dark eyes scrunched shut as he took back his hand and gently eased the girl off of him. "I wish you hadn't done that."
"Why?" Kumiko asked, uncertain as to the reason why her boyfriend was suddenly not liking this. Until recently, he'd enjoy it—encourage it, even—and wanted more. She looked around.
Maybe, she thought, someone is watching.
"Well…Kumiko-chan…"
"Darling…?" She clasped her hands together and said in a soft voice. "Is Murata-kun going to get the hotel room key for us tonight?" She worried her narrow lower lip between her teeth and a blush came to her. "I'm fine with that…or we can go to the Love Hotel ourselves… It's not that expensive, and I've been working all summer at my part-time job…" The pause that followed completed the rest of her thought.
She moved a long strand of blue-black hair behind her ear. He's probably shy about this, but I've done it before. It's so easy.
Kumiko tilted her face up expectantly.
"I've…um…got something I want to tell you. Let's just have a seat here." He motioned to the wooden park bench.
"Yes?" she said. She eyed him and noticed his face had fallen. It had to be bad news because her Yuuri was always so bright and happy.
"I guess there's no easy way to say it." He sighed to himself and reached into his pocket. "I came back to give you this." The double black handed her the purple inked note. It wasn't in the same condition it was when she'd left it for him. She had expected him to treat it with importance, with deep meaning. But, it was mashed carelessly and the edges curled and split—like an old worksheet left in the bottom of a locker at the end of the year.
Feeling tears coming, Kumiko's eyes blinked as she turned the crushed note over in her hands. Everything that she felt—all of her feelings and desires—had been written down for him to see.
"You're…breaking up with me?" she said incredulously. "I don't understand." Her eyes flew from the note to his face to see his reaction.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Was it because I wouldn't sleep with you until I knew you were serious about me?" she said quietly with a sob at the end.
"B-But… I-I never asked you to do that!" Yuuri sputtered, all sense of volume gone. Actually, it was much louder than he intended. Some sparrows got startled and flew off.
"Yes, you did!" she barked. "You had your hands all over me!"
"I…I mean…you…and me…. Well…" He didn't know what to say to that. He thought she'd wanted it, too.
Kumiko leaned forward, fury taking the place of hurt, and yelled, "Yuuri! You idiot! I want to kick your butt so much!"
The double black's jaw dropped a bit. Kumiko was practically shouting in his face, hands balled up, and ready to swing at the slightest provocation. In that moment, he was glad she wasn't a Mazoku with an element to wield.
"Look, Kumiko-chan, I already said that I'm sorry." He put his palms out defensively and a feminine fist smacked into it with force. "Can't you understand? It's nobody's fault. It just didn't work out."
"What?" she fumed. "I did everything that you wanted. I-I…let you…" She growled through gritted teeth, " Oh, you're such a jerk."
He shook his head in agreement. "You can blame me to your friends when they ask. I'm fine with that."
"Fine?!" she squeaked. And, then her face changed as her brain finally kicked into gear. "The only way you'd take the blame and be fine with it…is…" In seconds, the Japanese girl's face turned blood red with rage. "You found someone else! That's it! Isn't it, Yuuri-kun?"
Images of a certain blond bishonen flashed in Yuuri's mind. Wolfram reading Greta a story. Wolfram in the garden picking roses. Wolfram sparring with his soldiers, training them. Wolfram in the bath wearing a white towel around his waist. Wolfram extending a hand to Trouble and folding her into his arms—kissing her with unashamed intimacy as only a prince would. And the deep ache in his soul… because it wasn't him.
"Yeah…I did…"
Positioned against what used to be the boundary of the old rose garden, Greta's new white marble fountain, which was square and reminded Wolfram too much of a much smaller version of the one in Shinou's temple, splashed merrily with a petit, cascading spray in the center. It was Lady Cheri's gift to go along with the six pear trees that Wolfram had planted with his daughter as an apology to her for being gone.
"Greta's orchard" they decided to call it.
Now that the work was all done, Greta and the master gardener had gone off to discuss expanding the little cluster of fruit trees next year into a much larger orchard and, maybe, they could add a flagstone path leading to it from the castle. It was a suggestion of Wolfram's that the princess embraced with an impish squeal of delight. Little did she know that the detailed images in Wolfram's mind had come from a sassy fox spirit who had once occupied it.
Wolfram sat on the edge of the fountain and dipped his fingers into the cool water. He made ripples back and forth while he watched the sunlight dance on the surface.
The blond wondered, briefly, if Yuuri was going to come back. Wolfram told himself that it didn't matter that Yuuri was probably off cheating—kissing some girl or being entirely too friendly, in a clueless way, with a handsome guy—or worse. He told himself that it didn't matter, didn't hurt, because The Maou would return with the double black. The Maou gave his word that there would always be "an us." The blond sighed "he promised" and told himself that the pain wasn't so bad. He could handle it. And he would keep telling himself that, over and over, until he was numb and his own words came true.
There was an odd splash in the water and Wolfram groaned inwardly—head falling backwards, eyes shut. He hated the idea of the new fountain making some strange sound or being broken when they'd just got the stupid thing to work. Maybe, I can figure out what it is… Dark green eyes peered into the water. Then, he yanked his hand out, as though something had bitten him. Little droplets flew through the air.
What the…?
A dark image swam up to him, getting larger and wider.
Yuuri burst out of the fountain—which was barely large enough to hold him. In his arms, he had plastic bags sealed tightly with clear packing tape to keep the water out.
"Wolfram…?" He wiped his dripping face with his palm and peered around—trying to figure out exactly where he was. "Outside" was his first bet.
The blond could read his face and easily understand his confusion. "This is the new orchard I had planted for Greta. The fountain's from mother." He offered a hand to Yuuri, who gladly accepted it. He grinned widely, the callused hand in his, for a moment before releasing it and jostling the bags.
"I don't know how I got here…with you…but…"
"I don't know, either…" Wolfram shrugged a little at that and said, "Need any help with those…?" He remembered Greta asking for Pocky and he assumed that Yuuri had fetched other items as well.
"No, I'm good."
With an embarrassingly large number of dripping plastic bags in his arms, he smiled down at them a little. "I think I'll put these up, take a hot bath, and go see Gwendal."
Gwendal… The blond, feeling awkward at that prospect, shrugged an agreement. He knew that Yuuri wouldn't forget the talk he'd planned to have with his brother even though that was a vague hope that had played out in the back of his mind. "I still want to be there…when you speak with Gwendal."
Yuuri juggled the bags briefly and then made strides for the castle. "Come on, Wolfram… You act as though I'm planning your doom or something." It was a cheerful tone that didn't work at all on the blond. He followed behind, stiff and unfeeling
"You have the power to do that, actually," the blond said under his breath.
"Wolfram?" He stopped and turned to look at the young man following him. "You know, it's hard to speak to you when you're three steps behind me." Onyx eyes, holding some sort of secret in them, smiled at him. "Three steps… What are you? A wife or something?"
Dark green eyes glared with tiny sparks. It felt as though Yuuri had just teased him. The face hardened. Shoulders pushed back. "According to protocol…which I'm sure you've reviewed more than once in your lessons…I have to walk behind at a distance. And, may I remind you that I'm a man, not a woman. I'll never be anybody's wife." Wolfram tugged at the sleeves of his uniform to straighten them which gave a crisper appearance. Keeping his tone even right now was really taxing, too. But, social decorum dictated it. "Besides, being here makes protecting you… easier… from behind." It was a lie. They both knew it the moment he said it. Wolfram had walked at Yuuri's elbow countless times, while complaining in a distracted way about anything that crossed his mind, and was still at the top of his game—sword drawn—when danger occurred.
Undaunted, he winked at Wolfram and then continued walking. "R-i-g-h-t…" he said as an amused sigh. "Personally, I think you like to stare at my behind," Yuuri mumbled under his breath with a dark humor.
"What?!" Wolfram practically shouted. He couldn't believe what he just heard. That was nothing like the Yuuri he knew. "That has got to be….to be....!" Embarrassed, he squinchedhis eyes shut to block out the double black's rounded, peachy butt from his vision. "…T-The most…!"
In the distance, Greta and several gardeners stopped and stared.
Yuuri turned again and smirked a little. "Excuse me, Lord von Bielefeld? You were shouting about something and…I missed the meaning?"
That one took Wolfram's breath away. He stared. Jaw dropped. Never did Yuuri speak to him like that or call him 'Lord von Bielefeld' so formally. His chest tightened. He pursed his lips and turned away to his right to avoid eye contact with Yuuri. The blond felt off balance and unsure of himself. What's going on? I don't…understand this…
"I want to talk to Gwendal first," Yuuri said, dropping his slightly teasing manner for a sincere one. "And, then, I want to be with you tomorrow. Just us."
The blond tilted his head to one side and gave Yuuri a look from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure?"
Yuuri's face grew calm and contemplative. "Gwendal needs to understand what I have in mind. And I won't be backing down on it. I think, at this point, he'll pitch a fit, though." Then, a smirk returned. "If you feel a shockwave coming from his office, you'll know that he's talking to me."
"I still want to know what it is," Wolfram said flatly.
"You will. I promise."
"Promises…" The blond said vaguely, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glanced at Yuuri again. "I don't know if I believe in those anymore."
The double black readjusted the packages in his hands again, turned in the direction of the castle, and said without looking behind, "You will, Wolfram. You will…"
Author's note: Final chapter coming up next!