By Snow Leopardess (SL)
(A/N: Please feel free to give constructive criticism after. I would always like to improve (especially since I got hit by and wrote out this idea at, quite literally, 1 freaking AM in the morning).)
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That was the third time that Conrad had caught them staring at his brother.
Conrad caught Gwendel's gaze with a slight turn of his head and silently relayed this information through hardened eyes. They both inconspicuously trained their sights on the group of five men sitting across the small pub that their group – consisting of themselves, Heika, Geika, and Wolfram – resided in.
They had all been dragged here by another one of Yuuri's escapades of (as well as an excuse to get away from the mountainous piles of paperwork), and had finally decided to rest here at the end of a long day of wandering around the mazoku town in pointless, disappointing circles.
But now Conrad felt all of his previous weariness smoulder away as he saw that the drunkards had grown even bolder. They were not even dropping their gazes this time as his eyes met with the supposed leader instead they smirked mockingly at him and blatantly moved lustful sights over to his little brother, greedily tracing the curves of his body and undressing him with their eyes. Out of the corner of his eye Conrad saw Gwendel tighten his fist atop the table, shaking with contained rage.
A wild movement across the table spared the older brothers' glance: Yuuri flailed in embarrassment as he attempted to stop Murata from calling over the cute waitress for the fifth time that night. Wolfram, in the corner, was hunched down and pouting angrily at the inappropriate attention choice of his fiancé.
The candle on their table sent shadows flickering across his delicately featured face, making his hair shine and his eyes glow in an almost unearthly beautiful way.
With an irritated sigh, the blonde sat up and took a long swallow out of his glass, licking his lips to catch the lingering droplets as he set the water down.
The men did the same, but for entirely different reasons.
It was easy to comprehend why anyone would be attracted to Wolfram. Not only was he breathtakingly beautiful, but an air of passion and intimacy radiated from his entire person; one that fuelled doth his temper and determination in his life.
The grating of wood against wood fully brought Conrad's attention back to the other table. The men had stood up. One drained the last gulp out of his mug, while another wiped his mouth across his sleeve and belched. Then several coins were exchanged with the barkeep, and the men were finally leaving.
Conrad deflated inside and Gwendel's forehead smoothed out a little as the men passed by their table. But then, Conrad caught a daring glint in the last man's eye as he approached - and suddenly a hand was shooting out at Wolfram.
Before Conrad had even had the chance to stand up, a loud SLAP! resonated around the room as Gwendel seized the man's wrist in an iron grip, halting it a total of an inch from their brother's behind.
By the time Wolfram had turned around the two were already halfway out the door with Conrad on their heels.
Once outside, Gwendel gave the man's wrist an agonizing 360 degree twist that split the night air with the scream that followed it, only partially covering up the sickening crunch that had accompanied the deed. The other drunkards spun around to rush to his aid, but froze in their tracks at Gwendel's icy, unforgiving glare.
He shoved the whimpering, withering, pathetic mess of a man to the ground, and, with an eerie sense of calm, re-entered the building.
Slow sounds of footfalls marked an approach to the blubbering 'man', who curled up in on himself in the expectance of yet more punishing blows. Brown boots came to a halt a foot away from his face.
After an eternity of silence, the person kneeled down to whisper into his ear, coldly and hatefully, filled with a terrifying promise of an unending hell.
"Don't touch my brother."
And then he was gone.
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