
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/47061.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kyou_Kara_Maou!
  Relationship:
      Yuuri_Shibuya/Conrad_Weller
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Romance, Graphic_Sex, 5000-10000_Words, Trust, Established
      Relationship, Gift_Fic
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-09-28 Words: 6215
****** A Dance in Slow Motion ******
by Piru_(pyrefly)
Summary
     The road to intimacy is not a journey of love nearly as much as it is
     one of trust.
Notes
     Friend: "So have you read any good ConYuu NC-17 fanfiction?"
     Piru: "I really don't read much fanfiction, and the idea of ConYuu
     porn especially just weirds me out. I just think a lot would have to
     happen to make it realistic. They're so PURE, and Yuuri's so naïve! I
     mean, don't you think that Yuuri would be almost completely naïve
     about sex? And somehow Hamano Jennifer doesn't strike me as a great
     teacher of sex ed. >_> So, yeah. I do hope someone can pull it off
     realistically someday."
     Friend: "...*COUGH*"
     Piru: "...I HATE YOU."
     PRACTICE SAFE SEX. USE A CONDOM. I know they didn't here because the
     technology didn't seem advanced enough for contraceptives, BUT. Be
     safe, kids. Anyway, my reasoning here probably makes a little more
     sense in the context of my other two fics, but they're not necessary
     reads in order to understand this one.
Yuuri can't remember whose idea the team bonding events were, his or Murata's.
It was Murata who had first brought up the fact that the team lacked a sense of
unity and camaraderie; he can remember that much. Although they'd won several
games, the team manager had quickly noted why overall they didn't seem to be
improving.
So, every Friday afternoon, they had instituted mandatory team-building
exercises and events. They had volunteered at an animal shelter, hung out at
arcades, gone bowling, and did several other activities that were not too
unusual for teenage boys to do.
On one particular Friday, however, the boys find themselves having to change
their plans. They had originally talked about going to the park to play a
casual soccer game, but heavy rain clouds now dot the sky, and they quickly
agree that they had better find something else to do.
“Let's just go to karaoke again,” Kensuke, third baseman, whines.
“But we went last week!” Fujio, shortstop, argues. “No, I say we go to the mall
to meet some girls.”
The team erupts into laughter then, and several of the older, more shameless
boys immediately begin enumerating the kinds of features they like to see in
girls.
“What about you, Shibuya-kun?” Kanetada, first baseman and the rowdiest of the
bunch, finally slaps him on the back. “What's your type?”
Yuuri starts coughing frantically, and when Murata notices that his friend is
not going to be able to respond, he quickly comes to the rescue. “Actually,
Shibuya is already in a relationship—”
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeh??” The announcement is met by sounds of surprise and disbelief.
“But, Shibuya-kun! You're dating a girl? How come you never told us?”
“Actually—” Yuuri flounders again, too flustered to admit that he's actually
dating an older man.
Murata shoots him a look, then. They've had this conversation once before.
Murata had advised him that, for the sake of the team, he should never admit to
being gay when on Earth with anyone but his family. Yuuri's confused about the
term “gay”. He isn't entirely sure what it means, much less whether it applies
to him. He just knows he likes Conrad, a lot. That's all.
In the end, however, he's more than willing to defer to Murata. The Daikenja is
probably more knowledgeable about these kinds of things, anyway.
“It's true,” Yuuri admits, blushing furiously.
“What's she like? Is she very pretty?”
Yuuri blushes even brighter, but nods, thinking that he's always found Conrad
very handsome.
The boys then turn to Murata. “Is it true? Is she really hot?”
“Well...” Murata finds himself slightly flustered, then, too. “...not really my
type. Yuuri has a thing for older—” Pause. “—women. But there are many who
would consider her very attractive.”
“Wow...” The boys' eyes are wide as they regard their catcher with newfound
admiration.
“An older woman, huh...” Natsutarou, right field, breaks the stunned silence.
“Does that mean... Have you done 'it' with her yet?”
Yuuri almost has a meltdown. 'It'... sex? With Conrad? He wishes fervently for
someone to save him by changing the topic, but all of the boys are staring at
him now with the same question in their eyes. Even Murata isn't sure how to get
him out of this one.
“Well? Shibuya-kun?”
Yuuri finally timidly shakes his head 'no', but Murata can discern the flashes
of panic in his eyes.
The boys' interest in the topic dissipates then, and the team winds up going to
karaoke and having a jolly time. Still, Yuuri is absent-minded and fidgety, and
when it comes time for the boys to part ways, Murata offers to walk Yuuri home,
even though it's slightly out-of-the-way for him.
They walk most of the way in silence until Yuuri finally finds the courage to
speak up. “Murata... can I ask you a question?”
“Of course!” Murata's answer to Yuuri's obvious distress is to try to sound as
optimistic as ever.
“Is it...” Yuuri pauses, gulps, then tries again. “Is doing 'it'... really that
important in a relationship?”
Murata sighs and reverts to his serious side. “Don't you think that's really
something you should talk to Conrad about?”
“How can I ask him that?” Yuuri looks frantic, and there are beads of sweat on
his forehead. “Besides, what if he's already having his doubts—about us—our
relationship—because... because I won't do 'it' with him? Wouldn't bringing it
up—”
“Shibuya.” Murata stops walking and Yuuri is forced to follow suit. “I don't
know Weller-kyou all that well, but I do know enough of him that I can say that
if you truly believe that he could think that way, then I don't think you know
your own boyfriend very well.”
Yuuri looks down at the ground.
“Shibuya,” Murata repeats while he pats his friend on the shoulder. “Just talk
to him about it. One of the key elements of a good relationship is open
conversation. Just try it.”
Yuuri sighs, looks up, and manages a small smile. “Thanks, Murata. I can take
it from here.”
He walks the rest of the way home by himself, but he still doesn't feel very
confident.
***
Upon Yuuri's subsequent return to Shin Makoku, quite a bit of time had passed
in the other world, which does not serve to make him feel any better about the
situation because it means that from Conrad's perspective, they have been apart
for quite a while.
Therefore, when Conrad finally manages to convince Günther to let them have
some time alone together, he finds Yuuri more fidgety and nervous than ever. At
first Conrad disregards the boy's jittery state, figuring that it can hardly be
anything serious and that bringing it up will probably only embarrass Yuuri.
However, as time passes, which the couple spends sitting and talking about what
has transpired during the Maou's absence, it becomes increasingly clear that
something is indeed the matter. Finally, Conrad reaches for Yuuri's hand as
though to comfort him, and Yuuri flinches. Conrad can't help frowning, then.
“Yuuri, you've been acting odd all afternoon.” Conrad's concerned look only
serves to make Yuuri feel even more guilty. “Is something the matter?”
Yuuri begins to pace about the room nervously, stumbling over his words as he
tries to find a way to phrase what he's feeling that won't sound horribly
embarrassing and yet will be clear and understandable at the same time.
Conrad's heart aches to see the boy in such obvious distress, and so he gets up
as well, walking over to Yuuri and gently stroking the other's hair. Yuuri
responds by balling his hands in Conrad's shirt and burrowing his face in the
other's chest.
When Yuuri finally speaks, he does not look up; avoiding Conrad's gaze is the
only way he can muster the confidence to even have this conversation.
“Conrad... are you... are you upset with me because... because we haven't done
'it' yet?”
“'It'?” Conrad looks puzzled, and it takes him a second to figure out what
exactly Yuuri means. “You mean... having sex?”
Yuuri's only response is to nod his head while still hiding his face in the
folds of Conrad's shirt.
Conrad's heart overflows with a mixture of love, sympathy, and admiration. He
isn't sure what prompted this, but the issue certainly would've come up sooner
or later, and he can hardly imagine what anguish Yuuri must've suffered through
to find the courage to be the one to bring it up. He lightly kisses the top of
Yuuri's head, one hand sliding down to rub his back while the other hooks under
his chin and lifts the boy's face. Yuuri's blushing and refuses to meet his
eyes.
“Yuuri,” Conrad whispers, not quite commanding, but still slightly urgently.
“Yuuri, look at me.”
Finally, Yuuri's gaze shifts to meet Conrad's, and the tenderness he finds
reflected there takes him by surprise.
“Yuuri.” Conrad takes the boy's hands in his and then drops to his knees so
that Yuuri's looking down at him rather than the other way around. “Of course
I'm not upset with you. That, the sex—it's never been important to me. The only
thing—”
“—you mean you don't want to do 'it' with me?” Yuuri's face is bright red, and
he's starting to look away again.
“I never said that.” Conrad's voice is calm and steady as he reaches out one
hand to stroke the side of Yuuri's face. “What I'm saying is, I don't think
that having sex is the only way to prove that you truly love someone.
Especially if you're not sure if you're ready. I mean, if I knew that you—”
“—I want to,” Yuuri blurts out, eyes closed, and gulps before continuing, “do
'it'. With you.”
“But you're not ready.” It's more a statement than a question, and Conrad
follows it up by softly kissing Yuuri's hand which he's still clasping. “It's
okay. We'll take it slow. The way we've always done it.”
Conrad's gentle smile causes a flurry of butterflies in Yuuri's stomach, and he
finally allows his boyfriend to kiss him on the lips. But his shoulders are
still tense and his legs shaky, all indications of how unsure he still feels
about the entire situation.
***
They don't do it every night. In fact, it only happens maybe once or twice a
week at most. Conrad never pushes for more, always waiting for Yuuri's signals.
They have a special look between them that indicates to Conrad that tonight's
the night. Conrad simply nods to verify that he got the message, and then he
will show up at Yuuri's bedroom door later that night, when the rest of the
castle is slumbering peacefully.
The guards will let him in without saying a word. After all, now that the
engagement's off, the Maou is free to court (and bed) whomever he wishes.
Still, for a long time, it bothers Yuuri what the guards might be whispering to
each other about this late-night traffic at his door, especially when they are
still in the early stages and haven't actually progressed very far in terms of
physical intimacy.
Conrad always tells him not to be bothered by it, and to let rumors be rumors.
Conrad. The good soldier will come in and shut the door carefully but silently,
as though sensing that Yuuri's nerves are always on-end during these
encounters. However, his next move is always to take off the military jacket he
always dons—it does seem inappropriate on these occasions—and the first time he
had done so, Yuuri had panicked and started babbling incoherently and shaking
so convulsively that Conrad wound up wrapping the boy in his arms and just
hugging him until he'd calmed down.
They hadn't gone any farther that evening.
It is months since that first encounter, however, and Conrad has since worked
hard to encourage Yuuri to grow more physically confident with him. He never
pushes, and he never takes. He just smiles and gives and gives. And he always
stops when Yuuri doesn't want to go any further.
Tonight, Yuuri doesn't feel the need to stop, but it's taken time to get to
that point. They really have taken it slow. Baby steps.
They'd started off just lying in the bed and looking at each other. It's funny,
really; Yuuri had gotten dressed and undressed in front of Conrad many times
before, but somehow, this was different. For some reason, this other look in
Conrad's eyes sent shivers down his spine the first time they lay down
together, even though he was still fully clad. So they just lay there, Conrad
occasionally reaching out to play with Yuuri's bangs, until Yuuri stopped
shaking and felt ready for more.
Conrad will draw Yuuri in close, then, and they'll touch chastely, close their
eyes, and just kiss. Yuuri never ceases to be amazed at how soft Conrad's lips
are. It seems to contrast with the rest of him, much of which is hard and
calloused thanks to the soldier's lifestyle. But his lips are so soft and
warm—they feel like home, anyway. Like Yuuri's at home when he's kissing
Conrad's lips.
Conrad never ceases to enjoy tracing the contours of Yuuri's face as they
kiss—a light brush of fingertips, nothing more. Yuuri sometimes wonders if
Conrad does it to constantly confirm and remind himself that this is really
happening. However, when he asks about it, Conrad will simply smile and brush
some of the locks of hair out of his eyes instead of responding.
Yuuri supposes that everyone has their quirks in these situations, like his own
obsession with Conrad's lips.
Over time, their kisses grow more passionate; their hands begin to roam, and
occasionally their mouths themselves stray from their standard locked position.
Then come the little challenges of blindly fumbling with buttons and trying to
take shirts off while breaking as little contact of skin as possible. Like all
couples, they eventually discover the fastest and most effective methods, but
as their relationship progresses, they also find themselves gradually growing
more impatient, to the point where a single button that refuses to come undone
as easily as possible seems detrimental to their skins' hunger for each other.
Yes, they grow hungry. Yuuri finds that he loves to touch Conrad's chest,
feeling the curves of lean muscle and strong bones. His fingers love to linger
around the point directly above Conrad's heart, tips drinking up, as it were,
the heat and the strong pulse underneath. Conrad will keep one hand at the back
of Yuuri's head, sifting his fingers through the mass of black hair, while the
other strays across Yuuri's back, where the young Maou seems to be the most
sensitive. If Conrad is in a playful mood, he might run a finger down Yuuri's
spine, enthralled by the way the boy will lithely arch his back in response.
This occasional teasing rarely progressed to the point of obscenity, however.
For weeks, they reach to around this point and then they stop. Or rather, they
gradually slow down, both silently accepting that they have explored enough of
each other's skin and mouths. Yuuri goes to sleep fairly swiftly in Conrad's
arms, while Conrad lays awake a while longer, caressing his beloved to ease his
passage into sleep—never stopping to give much heed to his own needs and
desires, for that has never been his way.
Lately, however, they have both grown a little more bold and endeavoring.
Conrad has allowed his mouth to roam and cover every inch of Yuuri's skin, and
Yuuri has been feeling the sharp jolts in his nerves that lead to the heating
up of a certain part of his body more and more intensely. The skin hunger seems
to be increasing more and more drastically each time, to the point where Yuuri
is loathe to even let a single part of his body go without touching some
corresponding part of Conrad's lean form.
Tonight, for the second time in the entire span of their nighttime encounters,
Yuuri whispers into Conrad's ear that it's all right for them to take it all
off, and soon not a single thing separates their bare expanses of flesh from
each other. Yuuri is surprised by the eagerness with which his cock springs to
life the minute it is exposed to cool air and the heat emanating from Conrad's
body. The entire area from his lower back over to his waist, down to his loins
and spreading across his thighs, appears to be hyper-sensitive to any kind of
touch, and Conrad's lightly teasing fingers are sending little shivers of
pleasure up Yuuri's back. He and Conrad are still kissing like they're drinking
from each other's souls.
The previous time had culminated rather quickly in Conrad stroking Yuuri to
life and then jerking him off to a brief climax before Yuuri could get a word
in edgewise. Fully spent, Yuuri had fallen asleep almost immediately, but not
without a large measure of guilt that Conrad had pleasured him without him
doing anything in return. The one-sidedness had bothered him greatly, and
Conrad had woken up the next morning next to a fairly irritable Maou. They'd
gone back a square or two, and it had taken some time to get back to this
point.
To where they are now.
Yuuri is more prepared this time. This time, Conrad moves his head down in the
direction of Yuuri's thighs, leaving behind a trail of butterfly kisses, then
moving to kiss the most sensitive point of the boy's body. Yuuri gasps, and his
eyes widen instinctively when Conrad proceeds to lick along the sides of the
shaft and then take the entire thing into his mouth. It takes an effort not to
jolt completely upright, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and all sorts of
strange sounds crowding the back of his throat, wanting to worm their way out.
Conrad continues to suck like his body's made of candy, and the shock factor is
still so great that it takes a while for Yuuri to adjust to the strange new
feelings and get his bearings, but when he does, he immediately croaks out, in
what sounds like a strangled gasp, for Conrad to stop.
Conrad does stop, lifting himself back up above Yuuri with a worried look on
his face which speaks volumes: Is it all right? Am I moving too fast? Do you
not like it?
Yuuri shakes his head and smiles broadly, the lingering tingling sensation in
his loins making him feel light-headed and vaguely euphoric. “No, I like it. I
do. But. What about you? I... I want you to feel good too. Not like... not like
this.”
“I do—” Conrad interjects. “I mean, if you feel good, I feel good.”
“No.” Yuuri's shaking his head. “I don't want it like this. If we're going to
do this, we need to do it together.”
Conrad tries to judge the determination in Yuuri's eyes along with those in his
words. Yuuri is actually surprised by his own temerity—just a few months ago,
he'd probably have died of shame before alluding to such things—but then, he
supposes, this is why they have taken so much time to adjust to each other's
bodies and the natural instincts these contain. He's still a little
apprehensive about what exactly 'it' entails—he's heard about the basic actions
and processes involved, but that still doesn't clarify to him why people are so
eagerly engage in this activity, and the big aura of mystery that looms over it
all is slightly terrifying—but he finds his fears overridden by his
overwhelming desire to be with Conrad in every sense of the word.
So Yuuri doesn't blink or avert his eyes from Conrad's questioning gaze, and
Conrad seems to understand, then, although he still seems to find the need to
ask, “Are you sure?”
Yuuri just smiles and kisses him briefly in response, and Conrad can't help
smiling back.
Conrad moves to lean over the other side of the bed, and although the world
feels empty and hollow now that his body is briefly devoid of contact with
Conrad's skin, Yuuri takes the opportunity to settle back into the pillow,
relax, and enjoy the sight of the play of muscles across Conrad's back in the
dimly lit room. He's trying his best to calm down and mentally prepare himself
for what's to come, although he's mentally avoiding the exact details. He tries
to think of it as embarking upon a journey to discover one of life's big
mysteries with the person he cares about the most right by his side. Thinking
of it that way, his breathing slows, but he can't stop his heart from racing.
Conrad finishes fumbling with whatever's on the floor beside the bed and
quickly returns to his original position by Yuuri's side, one hand moving to
cup Yuuri's head as the other is deftly opening up some sort of little
jar—Yuuri can't tell exactly what it is out of the corner of his eye, but he
has a vague idea. His suspicion is confirmed when Conrad dips his fingers
inside and they emerge covered in a viscous substance.
Conrad's lips graze Yuuri's, teasing, distracting his senses, but nothing can
entirely distract him from the way the other hand is trailing downwards,
brushing his lower back and continuing down, down. His shoulders tense
instinctively when one finger rubs the slightly sticky liquid in circles around
the rim of his ass, and he forces himself to relax. Still, he can't help
squirming a little when the finger finally pushes inside—not so much due to
discomfort as much as because the fluid is so cold and foreign.
They share another kiss, with tongue this time, Conrad caressing Yuuri's cheek
with the thumb of his hand that's still cupping his head and neck. As the
lubricant heats up, Yuuri adjusts to the sensation of being invaded, until
Conrad adds another finger. Yuuri gasps out loud this time; it's still not
really painful, but it is a bit uncomfortable—in a way almost unnatural.
When he looks up, Conrad is watching him, that worried look in his eyes again.
“Is it okay? Does it hurt?”
“No.” Yuuri's voice sounds oddly strained, and he tries to smile to make up for
it. “It just feels... weird.”
“Weird in... in a bad way?” The tenderness in his voice is almost unbearable.
Yuuri really does give it thought though, and finally answers, “No.” It really
doesn't feel bad—just weird.
As though to reassure his lover, he wraps his arms around Conrad's neck,
bringing his face closer so that it's easier to kiss. He doesn't know how much
time passes; periodically, Conrad adds a finger or pushes deeper, but he's
created a mental block to prevent himself from counting, from keeping track.
He's too busy smelling Conrad's hair and skin and kissing his mouth and
face—familiar territory to distract him from the less familiar.
Without warning, Conrad removes his hand, and the sudden lack of the burning
sensation of skin being stretched beyond its normal limits causes Yuuri to let
out a soft yelp that he's not even conscious of. Somewhere in that timespan
when he had forced himself to abandon his higher mental functions and just
focus on savoring the taste of Conrad's lips and the scent of his face, his
body had grown somewhat used to being penetrated, almost to the point where it
didn't feel that unnatural anymore, and now that Conrad's fingers are gone, the
emptiness feels almost just as foreign.
Yuuri is torn from his thoughts by the sensation of cool liquid on his right
hand. Conrad's picked up the little jar again and is dipping Yuuri's fingers
inside along with his own, carefully spreading the viscous fluid to cover
Yuuri's palm, too. Their fingers entwine as Conrad guides Yuuri's hand down,
down, until they touch steaming hot flesh, and Yuuri realizes that he's holding
Conrad's cock, with Conrad's own hand covering his to prevent escape.
He's blushing a little as Conrad's moving his hand up and down the shaft,
spreading the liquid from their fingers as well as giving Yuuri a better idea
of the size. Big, but not impossibly big. Yuuri finds himself vaguely
fascinated by how this part of Conrad's body seems to react to even the most
minute touch, straining for the sensation of rubbing skin against skin. It's
interesting, too, to observe the small changes in Conrad's face. Decades of
command of an army unit and involvement in court politics have given the
soldier an excellent poker face, superb self-control over his features. But
Yuuri, who's made it a point to know every detail of Conrad's face now discerns
little creases that weren't there before. Little droplets dot his forehead when
otherwise it's nigh impossible for anything to make Conrad break a sweat.
But Conrad doesn't allow himself the liberty of losing control for more than a
split second, and when his cock is properly lubricated, he quickly removes
Yuuri's fingers—still entwined with his own—and leans forward for another kiss.
Yuuri carries through the motion so that Conrad slides on top of him, and he
spreads his legs instinctively, sensing what's coming next. But Conrad's busy
attacking his mouth, one hand curled in Yuuri's hair while the other arm cups
his waist. Conrad's kissing like kisses alone can carry them to Heaven, and
he's entirely lost in the sensation of lips and tongue and teeth and desire.
So lost that when Conrad finally pushes inside, it catches Yuuri entirely off-
guard, and he can't help crying out.
There's true pain now, and unlike going to a doctor and getting a shot, it
doesn't go away again immediately. Tears spring into the corners of his eyes
involuntarily. He's trying to be brave and bear it but it's hard to do when it
hurts so much.
“I'm sorry,” Conrad whispers against his lips.
The pain in his voice mirrors what Yuuri's feeling, almost as though Conrad is
living vicariously through him, like an empathetic connection—experiencing the
same sensations when physically this isn't actually the case. He's kissing the
half-formed teardrops beading along Yuuri's eyelids, in between whispering “I'm
sorry” over and over again, like a mantra.
But Yuuri realizes that the distraction was for his benefit, and that there's
no way of getting around the initial pain, and so when he finally regains
control of his breathing long enough to talk, he chokes out, “No. Thank you.”
He's smiling, and that's probably the only true way he can signal to Conrad
that it's okay to keep going.
As Yuuri manages to get his breath back under his control and relaxes his back
muscles one by one, slowly, steadily, Conrad begins to move. It's still quite
painful, but Yuuri's trying hard not to let it show too much. The concern in
Conrad's eyes is almost heart-breaking, and if Yuuri didn't know that it was
out of love, he might've easily felt slightly insulted. He isn't made of
porcelain, after all.
Yuuri's just discovered that moving with it rather than against it makes it
less painful, and their motions are starting to speed up when, without any
advance notice, Conrad suddenly hits that spot. The boy's eyes surge open as
his back arches at an almost impossible angle.
“...Oh. Oh.” It finally dawns on him why people get addicted to this. “Oooohh—”
Conrad smothers his moan with another kiss, his free hand moving to gently
stroke Yuuri's cock, and soon the boy loses himself almost entirely in the
strange but utterly wonderful sensations behind, in front, in his
mouth—everything. It's too much, almost. Yuuri thinks that maybe this is what
fireworks feel like the second before they explode in a myriad of colors. Every
force at work in the universe seems to have come to a halt for an instant,
except for this amazing building, burning, bubbling, bursting energy between
them. Nothing makes sense anymore—red is blue is gray, rectangles and squares
are circles, and everything is light and dark at the same time. Somewhere, he
knows his body ends and Conrad's begins, but he can't tell, can't tell the
difference anymore. The fire inside is consuming everything in its wake and he
doesn't resist. How could he, when it feels so damn good?
Then everything explodes in a suffusion of light and indescribable sensation,
and his mind can't even process what's happening, except that he's shaking,
crying, laughing, babbling: “—love you. Conrad, I love you. I love you.”
At first, Conrad's too occupied with trying to catch his own breath and to stop
shaking to process Yuuri's words. However, as he dislodges their bodies, which
for a while had truly seemed to be welded together, slowly but surely, their
implication begins to dawn on him.
I love you.
The phrase has always been off limits, in a way. Conrad made sure of that.
Yuuri had used it once before, when they had only begun their official
courtship, and they had just shared one of their first true kisses. Though
Conrad had initially been pleasantly surprised, as he gave the matter more
thought, his mood had grown dark and moody, and the night had ended with him
begging Yuuri upon his knees not to say those words again. He doesn't want the
boy to say it unless he's truly, absolutely sure he means it.
When he's finally calmed his senses enough to be able to speak, he whispers,
“Yuuri—”
But, still wrapped in his passionate embrace, the young Maou has already
departed the world of the waking.
***
Conrad's inner clock has never failed to wake him up before the crack of dawn,
and today is no exception. Yuuri's still fast asleep, of course, curled up in
his arms in an almost childish fashion. But Conrad won't ever regard his lover
as a child again.
Smiling to himself, he decides to stay in bed a while longer, a luxury he
permits himself only in rare circumstances. He knows it's a terribly
irresponsible thing to do—the commander should always awaken before his
troops—but just this once he feels bound by a duty of another sort. It'd be
inappropriate for Yuuri to wake up alone this morning.
Pressing a kiss to Yuuri's forehead, the fleeting realization crosses his mind
that if he digs deep enough inside his own heart, he'll admit that he's doing
it for himself as much as for the young Maou.
Certain things in life exist to be savored, after all.
***
Yuuri's surprised to find Conrad still asleep when he wakes up. His initial
reaction consists of the thought that everything in the universe must've become
displaced if Conrad failed to rise before the rest of the castle. However, his
worry is quickly replaced when his focus shifts to the calm expression on his
lover's face, and the soft, steady breathing. He realizes that he is perhaps
the first person in decades who's been allowed to watch Conrad while he
slumbers, and Yuuri decides to treasure this rare moment as though it were a
gift.
With a peck on Conrad's cheek and then a grimace, Yuuri manages to slide out of
the bed without making any noise, although it does take a measure of self-
restraint when he lands on his feet and attempts to stand up straight. There
are worse things in life, however, he reminds himself as he proceeds to pick up
some of the discarded clothing—whatever comes within his grasp first is what he
pulls on, his mind elsewhere entirely.
He then slips out of the room just as silently. His mind is still groggy and
his body could certainly go for a relaxing morning in bed, but he needs to be
alone and collect his thoughts for a while, to go outside and smell the fresh
air and affirm that it all really happened.
It's an uncommonly cold morning, and he doesn't last too long in the castle
garden before seeking refuge by the furnace in the adjacent kitchen. The smell
of fresh bread in the oven elicits growls from his stomach, reminding him that
it's been a while since he ate. He stumbles about the kitchen in an attempt to
figure out what to do about breakfast, blissfully unaware of the amused manner
with which the maids regard their king's unkempt appearance—his wild hair, his
disorderly dress (where it is obvious that only about half of the articles of
clothing are actually his and the other half look suspiciously like they were
made for someone with the height of Sir Weller), and his odd gaze that sees
without really seeing and suggests that the rest of the world has all but
disappeared.
Finally, the girls can no longer contain their giggles and rush to escape the
room. Yuuri doesn't even notice their departure.
The Maou is too busy gathering together ingredients for the perfect breakfast.
He finds a basket of eggs that he proceeds to break open above what he assumes
is the Mazoku version of a frying pan. He'd never graduated from his mother's
cooking lessons beyond making scrambled eggs, but he's awful glad that he can
put the skill to use now.
At one point, Günther enters the kitchen, having deduced from the maids'
excited chatter that there's something the matter with the king today. At
first, he doesn't really notice a change—true, Yuuri is cooking, but the Maou
had never truly understood the hierarchy and the workings of castle life—but
then he notices the change in Yuuri's face. Gripping his upper arms, he turns
the boy around to face him properly, then lets out a dramatic sigh.
“Heika—you're glowing!” The sound of his voice could be equated with a wail.
Yuuri responds by smiling his brightest smile yet, and when Günther sees the
sparkles in his eyes, he starts to cry and runs out of the room, babbling about
how his “Heika is all grown up” and reminding himself to berate Conrad later
because it's painfully obvious that the Maou is going to be tripping up
staircases and running into storage rooms and talking to broomsticks the entire
rest of the day.
Yuuri takes little notice. What concentration he can muster is focused on
loading an extensive breakfast on a tray and taking it back upstairs with him
as soon as the water's done boiling so that he can pour the tea.
Although the rest of the castle is bubbling with excitement, inside his head,
there is only a surprising sense of calm. Shortly after waking, he had begun to
realize that the step further that he and Conrad took last night actually does
not represent as big of a change in their relationship as he'd imagined it
would. True, he's even less afraid now that Conrad might one day leave him. But
Conrad had told him, “Having sex is not the only way to prove that you truly
love someone,” and now he knows that his boyfriend was right. The words he'd
called out during orgasm were nothing new—they were simply a realization and
affirmation of a feeling that had already been present for a long, long time.
Their long road to intimacy, then, had not been a journey of love nearly as
much as it had been one of trust, in order to build something that will last
through the ages.
Trust.
Briefly, the thought occurs to him that perhaps, if they hadn't accidentally
wound up engaged and if his fiancé had not forced his way into Yuuri's bed each
night, perhaps things might have turned out differently between he and Wolfram.
But certain things can no longer be changed, and as much as he wishes for
Wolfram, as a friend, to be happy, right now, his heart is only really filled
with one person.
Thus absorbed in thought, he finishes preparing the meal and then takes it back
to the bedroom. Just as he places the tray on the nightstand, Conrad stirs, and
Yuuri can't suppress a bashful smile as he slips back under the covers.
Conrad's arm reaches out to draw him close automatically, his voice lazy and
sleep-drugged as they exchange “good mornings”.
“I, umm.” Yuuri's blushing a little as he points to the tray. “I made you
breakfast.”
Sitting up to see what Yuuri's gesturing at, Conrad gives him a puzzled look;
he doesn't remember being offered breakfast in bed since he was a small child.
“...I'm not sick, though.”
“I know. But.” Yuuri laughs nervously to hide the sudden wave of embarrassment.
“My parents used to fight sometimes, and when they made up, my mother would
bring my father breakfast in bed to show that she loves him. And I know we
didn't fight, but I still—”
Conrad silences him with a kiss. “About that, and about last night... Listen, I
realize that sometimes, during orgasm, people will say things that they don't
really mean—”
“Conrad.” Yuuri's tone of voice resembles that of a plea. “I did mean it. Every
word. I simply said something I've been wanting to say for a long time now, but
I. I guess I just... never had the courage to.”
There's a sharp intake of breath, almost like Conrad is afraid to admit to
himself that this is really happening. At the same time, though, he knows full
well that Yuuri is practically incapable of telling a lie, so refusing to
believe the young man's words is really just another way of denying the truth
to himself.
There are no words to appropriately respond to Yuuri's confession, but
thankfully spoken words have never been an integral part of their relationship.
He finally just draws Yuuri in close, touching their heads together for an
instant before reaching out to grab the tray and set it in front of them.
“This is a lot of food,” he whispers with a grin. “I hope you'll help me with
it.”
“Together,” Yuuri grins back as he reaches for a slice of bread and tears it in
two. “As always. Now and forever.”
Conrad simply nods and takes the other half of the bread.
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