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kinkfestTitle: Appearances
Author: Orenda (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
orenda33)
Rating: R
Warnings: Male/Male sex.
Word count: 650
Summary: Sometimes you take what you can get, and looks may not be everything.
Prompt: June 3 – Kyou Kara Maou, Wolfram/Murata: mistaken identity - "I'm sick of being told I look like him!"
A/N: This is my first KKM that is not Yuuri/Wolfram, and it has a higher rating than anything else I've done. ^^;; I feel slightly guilty. But it just worked out this way.
There were days when Wolfram found himself wishing that he hadn’t been born as a blond. Sure, it had its advantages; he had lots of attention from it for looking like his mother, and even Yuuri had admitted to how pretty his hair was. But every time he walked by a certain painting hung up in the hallway, he cringed just a little inwardly.
Especially today, with clouds covering up any chance of direct sunlight and the sounds of rain echoing down the hallways as it splashed down on the roofs. It just made the hallway look gloomy, the tall paintings more foreboding than they probably actually were.
He was so busy watching them that he didn’t notice another person approaching him. “Does it really bother you that much, Lord Bielefeld?”
Wolfram managed not to jump, but he gave Murata a dark glance before answering. “Sometimes. Do you miss him?”
The Great Sage smiled before mimicking a response, “…Sometimes.”
Green eyes widened when Murata took a few steps closer, close enough that Wolfram could feel his breath on his neck. “W-What are you doing?”
Arms wrapped around the young prince before he could protest, and in the next moment he was being kissed… thoroughly, deeply, and as sensations overwhelmed him, Murata had stopped again before Wolfram could decide if he wanted to fight against it or return the gesture.
“How about you let me help you? I know you’re very unhappy right now with Shibuya… He won’t even look at how beautiful you are, even when you’ve offered yourself to him willingly…” Murata paused as he started to leave a trail of kisses down Wolfram’s neck, very aware of the fact that not only had the blond stopped struggling, but that he was breathing in quick, excited gasps, eyes lightly glazed over in enjoyment. He encouraged it by stopping to suck on a particularly sensitive spot just under Wolfram’s jaw.
“….I shouldn’t… I’m… engaged… Yuuri…” His hands balled into fists, he tried to ignore the fact that his pants were becoming increasingly tighter, that he was struggling to maintain his composure.
But it seemed that Murata had noticed this too, and he seemed rather persistent. A hand traveled down Wolfram’s body, hovering over the bulge in his pants but not quite touching. “Would it help if I told you that you could pretend I was him? You could call out his name…”
Murata applied pressure with his fingers, rubbing that sent tingles down Wolfram’s spine. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed the Great Sage by the wrist and dragged him into the nearest bedroom, not stopping until they were both on the mattress and tongues dueling for dominance over each other. It was lightning outside of their window, and the sounds of thunder only seemed to drive them forward.
Wolfram paused to catch his breath, Murata currently on top of him and unbuttoning his shirt, he gave the other boy a strange look.
“And what about me? Am I only wanted because I look like Shinou?”
Murata continued with Wolfram’s shirt, but stared at him in all seriousness. “You do look like him. But unlike Yuuri, all I’ve ever seen was you since we met.”
He was kissed hungrily, and Wolfram asked no more questions after that. They were both stripped of their clothes, warm skin pressed against warm skin, and they moved in desperation. The act itself did not last very long, neither able to hold out, unused to such pleasures. But that didn’t mean it was unsatisfying.
Sweaty and spent, they lazily rested against one another, listening to the unending rain outside. Murata glanced down when he started to hear the prince’s soft snores against his side, ran a hand through the tangled blond strands of hair.
“It’s too bad we both have to pretend to be happy… But you are beautiful, just like him…”
Author: Orenda (
orenda33)Rating: R
Warnings: Male/Male sex.
Word count: 650
Summary: Sometimes you take what you can get, and looks may not be everything.
Prompt: June 3 – Kyou Kara Maou, Wolfram/Murata: mistaken identity - "I'm sick of being told I look like him!"
A/N: This is my first KKM that is not Yuuri/Wolfram, and it has a higher rating than anything else I've done. ^^;; I feel slightly guilty. But it just worked out this way.
There were days when Wolfram found himself wishing that he hadn’t been born as a blond. Sure, it had its advantages; he had lots of attention from it for looking like his mother, and even Yuuri had admitted to how pretty his hair was. But every time he walked by a certain painting hung up in the hallway, he cringed just a little inwardly.
Especially today, with clouds covering up any chance of direct sunlight and the sounds of rain echoing down the hallways as it splashed down on the roofs. It just made the hallway look gloomy, the tall paintings more foreboding than they probably actually were.
He was so busy watching them that he didn’t notice another person approaching him. “Does it really bother you that much, Lord Bielefeld?”
Wolfram managed not to jump, but he gave Murata a dark glance before answering. “Sometimes. Do you miss him?”
The Great Sage smiled before mimicking a response, “…Sometimes.”
Green eyes widened when Murata took a few steps closer, close enough that Wolfram could feel his breath on his neck. “W-What are you doing?”
Arms wrapped around the young prince before he could protest, and in the next moment he was being kissed… thoroughly, deeply, and as sensations overwhelmed him, Murata had stopped again before Wolfram could decide if he wanted to fight against it or return the gesture.
“How about you let me help you? I know you’re very unhappy right now with Shibuya… He won’t even look at how beautiful you are, even when you’ve offered yourself to him willingly…” Murata paused as he started to leave a trail of kisses down Wolfram’s neck, very aware of the fact that not only had the blond stopped struggling, but that he was breathing in quick, excited gasps, eyes lightly glazed over in enjoyment. He encouraged it by stopping to suck on a particularly sensitive spot just under Wolfram’s jaw.
“….I shouldn’t… I’m… engaged… Yuuri…” His hands balled into fists, he tried to ignore the fact that his pants were becoming increasingly tighter, that he was struggling to maintain his composure.
But it seemed that Murata had noticed this too, and he seemed rather persistent. A hand traveled down Wolfram’s body, hovering over the bulge in his pants but not quite touching. “Would it help if I told you that you could pretend I was him? You could call out his name…”
Murata applied pressure with his fingers, rubbing that sent tingles down Wolfram’s spine. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed the Great Sage by the wrist and dragged him into the nearest bedroom, not stopping until they were both on the mattress and tongues dueling for dominance over each other. It was lightning outside of their window, and the sounds of thunder only seemed to drive them forward.
Wolfram paused to catch his breath, Murata currently on top of him and unbuttoning his shirt, he gave the other boy a strange look.
“And what about me? Am I only wanted because I look like Shinou?”
Murata continued with Wolfram’s shirt, but stared at him in all seriousness. “You do look like him. But unlike Yuuri, all I’ve ever seen was you since we met.”
He was kissed hungrily, and Wolfram asked no more questions after that. They were both stripped of their clothes, warm skin pressed against warm skin, and they moved in desperation. The act itself did not last very long, neither able to hold out, unused to such pleasures. But that didn’t mean it was unsatisfying.
Sweaty and spent, they lazily rested against one another, listening to the unending rain outside. Murata glanced down when he started to hear the prince’s soft snores against his side, ran a hand through the tangled blond strands of hair.
“It’s too bad we both have to pretend to be happy… But you are beautiful, just like him…”
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