Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou. No money is made, no disrespect intended.

Title: In the Closet

Author: Green Sail

Summary: Yuuri still hadn't exactly gotten around to telling people about Wolfram. A bit of a one-shot. A bit of a PWP. Warning: Strong Male/Male interaction. Yaoi. Yuuri/Wolfram

Warning: There is Male/Male sex in this fic. It is fairly detailed. If that is not to your preference, no offense taken. Just be warned.


Yuuri still hadn't exactly gotten around to telling people about Wolfram.

It was a little awkward, to say the least. Especially on those rare occasions that Wolfram came with him back to Earth.

It had taken three months for Yuuri to figure out how to bring people other than himself and Murata to and from Shin Makoku, and two more to get around to telling Wolfram about it.

By that time, Yuuri had gotten over the embarrassment of his mother knowing he was, well, engaged to a boy. And he had pushed into the back of his mind the slightly worried looks and occasional Playboy Japan his father set him. He had even settled with the realization that his brother had probably viewed him as a two year old girl his entire life anyway, so being engaged to a guy didn't really change their relationship all that much.

Alarmingly in fact, his brother had received the news with a rather smug smile that seemed to say, Yeah, I thought so. Really Yuuri, you're so obvious. Let Onii-Chan tell you who to date and you'll be fine. If you ever get rid of Wolfram, I'll screen every man in Japan, gay or otherwise, to be your potential partner.

Yuuri hadn't really wanted to think any further on that one.

But the true reason he didn't want to tell Wolfram that yes, he and Greta could actually visit with him in Japan, was because he hadn't yet told his friends about Wolfram.

It hadn't been so difficult when he was still in high school, because high school meant baseball and baseball meant no time to do homework, much less date girls. Baseball was the magic word that left him with both a dropped subject and the occasional sympathetic look. Yes, it was for more than one reason that Yuuri continued with the game all the way through his senior year.

But then came college, and after three earth years of governing Shin Makoku and trying not to think about his potential marital situation, suddenly baseball was no longer good enough when it came to avoiding the topic of girls.

His friends tried to set him up on dates. They tried to bring him to sleazy clubs. Once, they even pooled together some money to purchase him a one night stand with a prostitute.

It didn't help that in their inebriated state his friends had accidentally chosen a male escort.

To get away without offending anyone, Yuuri had climbed out of his window to sleep in the closest park. Curled up on a hard bench, he suffered vivid nightmares involving Wolfram burning a hole through the inter-dimensional fabric of the universe, and setting off after the poor, confused, scantily clad young man with a sword, causing masses of car pileups in Shinjuku and Akihabara.

He woke up sweating, shaky, and with a clear picture of Wolfram's face in his mind. The very next day he left for Shin Makoku.

He arrived in Shin Makoku late at night and as soon as all immediate business had been taken care of, he proceeded to crawl into bed with a waiting Wolfram and fall asleep.

It had happened far too many times for it to still be weird when he woke up with the other practically spooning him, tangled with him like some kind of bizarre octopus, and Yuuri barely took a moment to wonder if finding such actions comforting instead of disturbing, was something to worry about.

Instead of scooting away and falling off the bed like he used to, now he used the short time before the light through the curtains caused Wolfram to also stir, to watch Wolfram sleep and to lean his head for the briefest of seconds against Wolfram's chest.

It just felt like the thing to do, which was weird, creepy, and all manner of unnatural, so Yuuri tried not to think about it.

That is, until that one morning, several weeks later, when Wolfram caught him at it.

"Just what, exactly, do you think you're doing?"

Yuuri looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. He tried to stammer something.

Wolfram's eyes narrowed, but he did not move away.

Yuuri stopped talking.

Wolfram gazed at him for a moment, face serious. Then he shook his head, muttered choice words about Yuuri's moral fiber, and reached over to kiss him.

Yuuri let him.

The kiss was slow and deep and not really unexpected. Yuuri knew that once upon a time he would have protested the entire situation in the most volatile of ways. Now, he was kissing Wolfram back with an urgency he didn't understand and sliding his hands up that infernal nightgown that Wolfram still wore. He rolled Wolfram under him, still kissing, and pressed down against him, wandering hands circling a nipple and causing Wolfram to make a muffled noise and buck up a little when Yuuri rotated his hips.

What was he doing?

The smell of arousal in the room was strong, much stronger than with those girls his friends had tried to set him up with. His entire body ached. His groin throbbed. His heart pounded when Wolfram began to kiss and nuzzle little trails along his neck and shoulders.

They really shouldn't be doing this.

Yuuri's hands were tracing lines all over the muscles of Wolfram's chest and moving moved steadily downwards. He paused a moment to look down into Wolfram's face. Wolfram's mouth turned up a little at the corners.

Yuuri murmured something, a question.

Can I touch you, Wolfram?

Wolfram nodded, and dug his fingers into the skin of Yuuri's back, closing his eyes in pleasure when one of Yuuri's hands grasped his hard length and stroked.

Yuuri's breath caught. Wolfram had managed to somehow remove Yuuri's pajama pants and underwear, so that they were really touching now, and still rubbing together.

Well, it wasn't like they were going to stop.

Yuuri raised his other hand to his mouth and coated his fingers in saliva. He snuck around to grip Wolfram's ass and, after a momentary search and a hesitant pause, slid his finger inside.

Wolfram looked at him in concern, opened his mouth to say something, but bit his lip when Yuuri found that spot. The one mentioned by all of that doujinshi manga Yuuri had stolen frightened peeks of once he had gotten over the shock of finding it under his mother's pillow.

When Yuuri's crooked finger brushed his prostate, Wolfram cried out and arched upward. Yuuri added more fingers. Wolfram muttered something and Yuuri leaned down to whisper into Wolfram's ear.


Wolfram swallowed. Beads of sweat ran down his neck. "Ah, Yuuri . . ." he said. "There's um, ah, oil—" Yuuri brushed that spot again and Wolfram panted, a delicious warmth shooting up through his insides. "Oil, in the nightstand. Second drawer."

Yuuri's hand on Wolfram's cock slowed. "Oil?" he said. "What on earth—"

"I think one of the maids put it in ages ago," Wolfram growled. "Does it really matter why it's there, you wimp? Hurry up!"

"Don't call me a wimp, I'm going, I'm going," Yuuri said, reaching over to the nightstand, pulling open said drawer, and grasping the vial of oil. He examined it. It really was a miracle it had been put there. He wondered why . . .

Ah yes. The infamous betting pool. It probably had something to do with that.

Shrugging, Yuuri coated himself with it and raised himself to his knees. "Wolfram," he said, "Is it okay if I, um, you know?" His cheeks flamed. "Can I . . .?"

Wolfram stared at him for a moment, and then turned over, his stomach against the sheets. "If I didn't want you to Yuuri, I would've punched you already and told Günter you had run into the bedpost. Just do it!"

Yuuri felt something tighten in his chest. He covered Wolfram's hands with his own and Wolfram's body with his, pinning him to the bed. Wolfram moaned, widening his legs a little.

Achingly slowly, Yuuri entered him. Wolfram stiffened. Yuuri froze. If he was doing this wrong, then Wolfram was going to kill him.

"I'm fine," Wolfram said, voice raw. "Do it."

Yuuri swallowed, nodded, and gave a shallow thrust. Wolfram tilted his head to look at Yuuri, eyes dilated, teeth clenched.

"Keep. Going." Sweat glistened on Wolfram's face.

Yuuri complied. He pulled out almost completely, then pushed back in. And again.

Wolfram's breathing grew ragged, his face flushed even more than it had already. His blond hair was in wild disarray. He groaned with every movement Yuuri made, rocking back to meet Yuuri's body with his own, each hit to his prostate sending a wave of pleasure through him.

"Ah, Yu— Yuuri, could you—? Ha— harder!"

Yuuri's grip on Wolfram's hands grew slick. His face was set in concentration, eyes almost shut. Yuuri's right hand moved down to grasp Wolfram. He stroked, once, twice, and thrust deep.

Wolfram made a sound like a low whistle and shuddered. "Yuuri," he gasped. "Yu—I think I'm going to—" and then his palms turned to fists and Yuuri felt him come all over his right hand, cock twitching. But Yuuri didn't care, because Wolfram's insides were tightening around him and he was coming too.

He slumped against Wolfram with a sigh, too exhausted to move.

A minute passed, as they both tried to breathe. Finally, Wolfram pushed the boneless Yuuri off of him, their semen sticky and growing cold between them.

Yuuri opened a bleary eye, their situation coming back to him like a bullet. What had he done? He had just—! On a whim! With another guy!

Would Wolfram hate him for it?

He had to speak. He had to say something. The silence was too much.

"Wolfram," he started, "I—"

"Yuuri," Wolfram cut in. He looked at Yuuri directly. Yuri looked back, a little unnerved.


"Yuuri," Wolfram said again. "You are no longer my fiancé."

Yuuri paled. He felt as though he had been punched in the gut. "What? But, Wolfram I—?"

"You're not," Wolfram continued, "because you're my lover now."

Yuuri's mouth opened and closed. His voice box felt like it had been welded shut.

"Stop that, Yuuri. You look like an epileptic fish."

Yuuri stopped.

"And I am never, ever letting you go." Wolfram gripped Yuuri by the wrist and tightened his hold. "Understand?"

Eyebrows furrowed, wrist burning, Yuuri nodded.

"My lover," Wolfram repeated, running the words through his mouth like fine wine. My lover. "Mine."

And he reached up, placed his palm on Yuuri's cheek, and kissed him again. This time slow and chaste.

And Yuuri found that he was all right with that, because it was Wolfram, who was his best friend, and who kept him from getting killed, and who was an annoying spoiled brat a lot of the time, and his daughter's other father. Because it was Wolfram.

So Yuuri kissed him back, vowing not to think about it anymore.


It was inevitable, Yuuri supposed, that they planned on getting married a short time after that. Especially once Wolfram informed him that in Shin Makoku having sex before marriage was still considered somewhat of a taboo.

Yuuri was reluctant to tell him that in their kind of relationship on Earth, there was no such thing as sex before marriage, because there was no marriage.

Needless to say, they traveled to Japan together to inform his parents.

It was as they were sitting down around the table, discussing whether or not his mother ought to make curry and bring it as a side dish to the wedding, that the door opened.

And because fate was cruel, Yuuri bemoaned later to Conrad, in stepped two of Yuuri's friends.

"Shibuya," one said, nodding to Yuuri's mother and father as he spoke from the entryway, not bothering to take off his shoes. "We were gonna go over to the— who's he?" he pointed at Wolfram, face quizzical. His eyes raked up and down Wolfram's form. "Exchange student?"

Yuuri swallowed. "Ah," he said. "He's uh . . ." He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually . . ."

It felt so dirty to lie about it with Wolfram sitting right across from him. Especially now that he and Wolfram had, well . . . but what could he say?

Wolfram kicked him under the table and glared at him with promises of sword wounds and scorch marks.

Oh hell, Yuuri thought. He drew a deep breath. "Actually," he said, looking to the ceiling, hoping that it was about to collapse and bury them all in kilos of rubble. "He's kind of my boyfriend."

There. He had said it. An uncomfortable silence descended. Yuuri waited for the world to end.

"You fucking homo," one of his friends said. "I knew it." He grinned.

Yuuri opened his eyes. "Uh, what?"

Had his wishing actually caused the ceiling to collapse? If so, was he hallucinating in a hospital somewhere?

"It was so obvious. 'Oh, no time for girls, I have baseball where I have to go spend time in the locker rooms with a bunch of naked guys.' I mean, come on."

"I never said that," Yuuri said, face hot.

Under the table, he pinched himself. Ouch.

"Naked guys?" Wolfram growled.

"Man, Shibuya, don't look at us like we're going to drag you outside and beat you with sticks or something," his other friend said. "This is 21st century Tokyo. Everyone's a homo. And even if they're not, they still dress like they are."

"Uh," Yuuri said, trying to make sense of the conversation. He felt his head for bumps from falling tiles. None to be found.

"You only say that because you're from the middle of nowhere Hokkaido," the first friend sniffed. He turned to Yuuri. "Really, Shibuya. We already knew anyway."

"Knew . . . ?" Yuuri said. This was a dream. He had to be dreaming. He hadn't mentioned a word to anyone. Not a peep about Wolfram, or Shin Makoku, or—

"Yeah, your brother told us. Said we had to stop fixing you up with women."

"Women?" Wolfram said.

"Shori?" Yuuri said, looking around as if the older Shibuya son was going to pop out of the tatami in the next room, brandishing a clipboard with the names of every available male in Japan, at the ready to cross off those he disapproved of.

And even if he did, Yuuri scowled, he was still going to kill him. Kill him dead. Then bring him back to life and kill him again.

But at least, he thought, grabbing his baseball glove and wallet, and heading out the door, Wolfram in tow ("come on Shibuya, we'll show your gaijin boy-toy what fun really is") he no longer needed to worry about bringing Wolfram back with him.

Maybe next time he would bring Greta too.


Author's notes: For those of you who may not know, Shinjuku and Akihabara are popular shopping areas in Tokyo. Very crowded. Driving in Tokyo is terrifying at the best of times, even as a passenger (in my opinion) so imagine how a bloodthirsty Wolfram might mess up the flow of traffic.

I don't know if there is such a magazine as Playboy Japan. It is possible.

Gaijin (for those of you who may not know) is Japanese for foreigner. Since Wolfram has blond hair and green eyes, I would think Yuuri's friends might assume he's a not from around there. The more polite version is Gaikokujin.

As far as I know, the town Yuuri lived in was never really mentioned. So I stuck him in Tokyo, because it suited my purposes. Sorry if that causes rifts in the canon. I will fix it if informed.

I hope you all enjoyed!

--Green Sail