His Hair

By: teh Lady Death

Disclaimer: Obviously KKM does not belong to me.

Summary: A one-shot on how Yuri finally fell for Wolfram with a little help from that blonde hair.

Dedication: Written for deidaras1lover, because even though she wants to lock Wolf up in her room, she knows he would look so much better tied to Yuri's bed.


The first time Yuri noticed it was when he was dangling from the side of a cliff.

Just as he was accepting his doom, a hand caught his. He looked up and saw it; silken strands dancing on the wind, the sun touching the delicate threads with a soft caress, and the gentle curls framing hard green eyes.

Wolfram's hair was captivating.

After that point in time, after that single revelation, without meaning to, Yuri didn't look Wolfram in the eyes, but at his hair. Even as the much older man would chew him out over some thing stupid he had done, his eyes watched those gold locks tremble beautifully in anger.

It was like an obsession.

If the young king had stopped to consider the reason behind his fascination with Wolfram's magnificent hair, the situation might have been resolved a little less violently. But that is for later.

For now, time passed.

As Yuri watched the golden tresses, he began to notice that the hair reflected Wolfram's moods. Upon seeing him at breakfast, if his hair was perfect he was in a good mood. If the locks were a little more on the messy side, he was distracted. If it looked a little clumped in the back, he was angry. If clumped in the front, he was angry specifically at Yuri, and a dangerous day it always proved to be.

However, Wolfram was an emotionally fickle person, and rarely stayed feeling one way for very long. As the day wore on, Wolfram could be seen unconsciously running his hands through his delicious hair, changing the look for his current mood; light and fluffy when he was happy, matted down when he was angry (again), disheveled when stressed, and -amazingly enough- suspiciously neat when he was hiding something.

There was, however, one Hair Mood that Yuri could not link an emotion to. Yuri had only seen the mood when Wolfram thought he was alone or Yuri had just entered the room. The only way he could describe it would be 'windswept'. He suspected that his inability to name this mood was because it had to do with what Wolfram was thinking at that moment, and as Yuri did not have telepathy, it was impossible to tell anyway. So he concentrated on what he had. And that was Wolfram's fabulously pretty hair.


Yuri's guilty pleasure was something he could only indulge in at the darkest hours of the night. When Greta and Wolfram were fast asleep and Wolfram was -for the time being- sprawled across their bed with his head in Yuri's direction, the king would slowly, carefully reach over and run a single finger through that mesmerizing hair.

He reveled in the feeling and closed his eyes to recall how it sparkled in the sun, and shone from a distance like a beacon, how it was so light even the tiniest of breezes would sweep it up and send it trailing in the wind. Yuri, a very normal boy, for some reason found this sudden fixation on Wolfram's hair not at all strange. In fact it never once crossed his mind that it was strange.

At least not until he got his first erection.

It was just one night of many, running a single finger through that brilliantly gold hair, thinking how it looked so good against Wolfram's pale skin, and how the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead in the heat made that hair go all damp and sticky, and how damn sexy he looked arching his spine to relieve the pain that had formed in his lower back, his head tipping back to reveal that the golden threads were sticking all along his slender, luscious looking neck.....

And then it came to Yuri's attention that he was heating up, and the soft organ between his legs wasn't nearly so soft anymore. He jerked his finger away from the tempting strands and rolled over, turning his back to his two nightly companions.

He was disgusted with himself. Getting all hot and bothered while Greta was right next to him! For shame! Firmly squeezing his legs together and willing the hardness to go away, Yuri resolved to never think about this nonsense again.

His resolve lasted three days.

Biting his lip, Yuri's eyes flickered under his lids, the finger in Wolfram's hair shaking. Wolfram was arching back, his hair soaked with hot sweat; his hand came up and brushed over his suddenly bare chest before brushing it out of his eyes. A line of gold ran from his navel to the line of his pants, slipping low from the melting heat. The fuzz that ran there was lightly dewed with sweat and if only Yuri could run a finger through that hair...

But he didn't. Instead he ran one finger down his length through the material of his pants and came with a shuddering gasp. The shock of his guilt and shame was much stronger this time and as he cleaned up Yuri considered how he could overcome this alluring sin.

Slipping back between the sheets, turned away from his companions once more, Yuri decided that the only way to deal with this was to simply never give him self a chance to give into the desire again. And the only way to do that was to not have the energy to lie awake at night and wait for that opportunity.

For two months after that, Yuri threw himself into work, forcing himself to focus on lessons and meetings and paperwork with the full intention of exhausting himself. And each night after reading a book to Greta or talking about her day, he would pass out and sleep soundly through the night, his dreams thankfully untainted.

The change was noted by everyone.

Ken, Ulrike, and Shinou probably suspected that something was up but since there was nothing negative to be found anywhere in the country or with Yuri himself they shrugged it off and sat back to watch it all unfold.

Gunter was ecstatic that his precious king was finally showing an interest in his lessons and managed to keep himself from getting nose bleeds and passing out for long enough in the day to teach the lessons.

Gwendal was grateful that the massive amounts of paper work were finally being done and the cost of his knitting expenses went down, Conrad and Josak wondered what had suddenly motivated Yuri to work so hard during sword practice but since he was improving immensely they felt it unnecessary to pry.

Anissina and Cecile found it most refreshing to see such a handsome young man working so hard and giggled about it over tea, the leaders of other countries he had befriended were simply put in further awe of him.

The heads of the ten noble families were glad that their king was finally showing his country the proper attention, and the four maids and the bald solider were slightly concerned at first that this burst of excessive action might be bad for him but when they noted no change in his eating habits and that he was still sleeping well, they too let it go.

The only one who felt in the least bit disturbed was Wolfram. During the first week or so, the blond let the whole thing go, happy that his fiancé was finally being responsible, but expected it to wear off quickly. When it didn't, Wolfram got anxious, and when another few weeks passed he got suspicious. Yuri could feel the man's eyes on him and it took all of his newly discovered focus to keep from returning that intensely apprehensive look.

During the last bit of the two month period, Wolfram was angry. Every breakfast, Yuri noted that Wolfram's hair was slightly clumped in the front and matted down for the rest of the day. Wolfram was silent about the whole thing for five whole days before he finally decided to get to the bottom of it. By the time he managed to arrange for Greta to sleep with Gwendal for the night, even the naïve maids could see the murderous intent in his eyes.

News circulated among the advisers of the king and they all briefly considered how to rescue Yuri from his coming doom, but there was a collective shoulder shrug and they all figured that Wolfram (probably) wouldn't actually kill Yuri, just rough him up a little and since it was most likely a lovers quarrel they really ought not to nose into it anyway.

Yuri was panicking. What on earth was he gonna do? Wolfram was gonna ask why he was a sudden workaholic, and there was no way he could ever confess to Wolfram that it was because he had gotten obsessed with his hair and then had two wet day dreams about him and had gotten hard for one and came for the other. Still panicking, his brain froze, and Yuri was trapped.

He imagined that the sound of Wolfram locking the door to their bedroom echoed eerily in the silence and his anxiety rose another few notches. Standing in the middle of the room, Yuri waited for his doom and humiliation to come. Wolfram turned slowly to face his love. Equally slowly, he unbuckled his sword and walked over to set it on a chair. The uncomfortable silence stretched, Wolfram's hard green eyes pinning Yuri to the spot. Eventually, Yuri managed to speak.

"Um, is there something wrong, Wolfram?" a pause followed his words as Wolfram took a few steps closer to Yuri.

"I really don't know, Yuri. Why don't you tell me?" Wolframs voice was dangerously low. Yuri shuddered, dammit why did that threatening voice have to be so sexy?

"Well, no not really. There's really nothing wrong." Another few steps closer.

"Then why did you ask me if something was, Yuri."

"Well, I just thought that, ya know, since you asked Greta to sleep with Gwendal there might have been something wrong and you wanted to discuss it privately with me." The gap closed even further, making Yuri distinctly uncomfortable.

"Why on earth would I need to discuss something with a wimp?"

"Don't call me a wimp!" it was a jerk reaction, an instant response to an age old argument, but it seemed to be the breaking point for Wolfram's famously short temper. But the truly frightening thing was how Wolfram decided to respond to this situation.

His closed fist slammed into Yuri's cheek. Off balance and not expecting it at all, Yuri stumbled back several feet, attempted to right him self, only to trip over his own feet and stumble back further until his back slammed against the wall. Opening pain clenched eyes, Yuri looked at Wolfram in shock as he strode to his king and slammed his hands on either side of his head.

"What are you avoiding?" the question was suddenly hissed in Yuri's face, the line of questioning startling. Wolfram waited for his answer, body tense and trembling with suppressed rage. Yuri inanely thought that he really wanted that hard body pressed tightly against his, smothering him.

"N-n-n-nothing, Wolfram, nothing! There's nothing!" Yuri sputtered a protest. Wolfram snorted in contempt, shaking his head. Yuri's eye followed the exquisite sway of hair before him.

"You're lying! Is it me?!" His was question almost a shout. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"What do you mean 'wrong with you'?"

"You haven't.... lately you haven't been looking me in the eye." The hurt was clear in Wolfram's voice but his face was unchanged from its fiercely angry expression and his body was still tense. "You look everyone in the eye, from the highest of world powers to the lowest of society. So why won't you look me in the eye?"

Yuri's mouth worked but no sound came out. His mind was racing, struggling to come up with some excuse, some way to get Wolfram's delectably trembling body away from him, and then his eyes looked a little further up and all brain functions ceased.

Wolfram was sweating. In his fiery rage he was sweating, and all that glorious hair was sticking to his forehead and Yuri wanted nothing more than to finally run his hands through those bountiful tresses, slide the soft strands through his fingers, and touch his lips to those flushed petals on Wolframs face.

So he did exactly that.

His hands pushed that wonderful hair back from his forehead and he reveled in the feel of it at last. Wanting more, Yuri leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Wolfram's. Yuri pulled back a few seconds later. Intoxicated by the feel of Wolfram's hair, Yuri started to talk.

"It's not nothing, it's you and your damned sexy hair. Why does your hair have to be so fucking good looking on you? And then I had to go and notice that it wasn't the only good looking thing there to stare at. All of you is really fucking sexy, Wolfram. I was having wet day dreams about you and your hair and I didn't want that so I distracted my self, only now you're right here and holy fuck I want you so bad I think I'm just gonna come all over myself and-"

That was where Wolfram caught on and made Yuri stop blabbering on by sealing his mouth to his fiancés and forcing his tongue down his throat. Yuri's hands grasped at that golden hair and clung desperately to the other man, craving more touch. Wolfram jerked back, a curse on his breath. He ripped off his jacket and boots. Yuri kicked off his own shoes and after pulling off his coat his eye caught on Wolfram's current Hair Mood.

It was, without a doubt, the mysterious 'windswept'.

Yuri's eyes flicked down to read Wolfram's face. What he saw there caused a lance of heat to shoot from his heart to his pants and it finally occurred to Yuri what emotion 'windswept' was linked to. He breathed his discovery out loud.

"Holy shit, you've been wanting me, too."

And that was the last full sentence Yuri said for the night. Wolfram pounced on his fiancé. Clothes were scattered on the floor, and the passionately making out couple managed to crawl onto the bed naked. Wolfram shoved Yuri down and straddled him, grinding their two erections together.

Yuri moaned wantonly, fractured sentences begging for more. His mind becoming hazed with lust, Wolfram's last truly coherent thought was that he regretted how quickly this was going to go tonight; he had been wanting this for much longer than Yuri and that carefully placed wall had just been smashed into tiny little pieces. His self control was practically nothing.

Leaning down, the blonde dominated Yuri's mouth once more, his tongue finally mapping that dark and wet cave it had been craving. Yuri groaned into that demanding mouth and received one in return. His hands fluttered over his lovers back for a moment before they buried themselves back in that golden nest. With a gasp Wolfram pulled free of Yuri's mouth and latched onto one hard nipple. The move elicited a cry from the king, followed by a few words so garbled by a second cry Wolfram was just ignored them.

The pleasure was so much more intense than the wet day dreams. Yuri's eyes were rolled up in his head and his back was arched up into that hot, wet mouth. He wanted more; he wanted something so much more than this it was driving him crazy. And then Wolfram bit down on his nipple and he finally knew what he wanted.

"Ah!....ngh!.... bite..... hard..... ugh!..... good.... !!" was all Yuri could manage, but Wolfram managed to make the connection, and a thrill went through his body before it settled in his groin. It would seem that Yuri liked it rough. Wolfram bit down again on Yuri's nipple and his eyes rolled up again, the most incredible sounds falling from his mouth.

Yuri could hardly contain himself. Wolfram was biting him, not just his nipples but all over; his neck, his chest, his stomach, his sides. And he wasn't gentle either; some of the bites drew blood. Wolfram licked away the coppery tasting liquid and flew high on Yuri's cries of pleasure.

And then Yuri bucked beneath him.

And that was the end of any self control Wolfram or Yuri might have had.

The friction was intense; both of them so hard it was a miracle neither had come yet. Wolframs hand slathered the pre cum over his engorged organ and let his primal instincts take over. Wolfram spread Yuri's all too willing legs and simply thrust right in. The shout of pain cut through some of Wolframs lust haze and he forced himself to not move.

Yuri thought he was going to rip in half, the pain was so intense. He didn't know how long he spent trying to get his shuddering body to relax. When he finally did, he realized that Wolfram, the Wolfram von Bielefeld was inside of him, groaning his name in a deep voice, and the erection that had gone flat shot right back up. Yuri reached out and grabbed his lovers hips and pulled the man all they way inside him. The feeling was incredible.

"Fuck....!" Yuri swore in a strangled voice and that's exactly what Wolfram did. He started to thrust fast and hard and within a few minuets had located that special spot and was hitting it every time. Through the haze, Wolfram was exceedingly pleased that he was finally fucking his Yuri senseless.

Yuri was totally beyond coherency. He clutched at the sheets by his head and panted out moan after moan, the pain of being fucked so hard turning him on even more. He was so close now, so close to coming all he needed was something to put him over that fucking amazing edge. And then he opened his eyes and saw that Wolfram was watching him as he fucked Yuri into the mattress. He was scrutinizing Yuri on such an intimate and intense level it was the just the shove he needed.

Eyes rolling back into his head, Yuri came all over their chests and was catapulted to such a state of ecstasy he didn't even realize he had come shouting Wolfram's name. And it was that extreme look of pleasure combined with Yuri's shouted ululation of his name that shoved Wolfram over the edge mid thrust. His body stiffened as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, seeing only Yuri's face fixed in an expression of unadulterated pleasure.

When finally the powerful pleasure faded to an after glow, Wolfram collapsed on top of his lover, too exhausted to pull out. Yuri, feeling cuddly, nuzzled Wolfram's cheek and neck, placing soft kissed on the tender flesh. Wolfram groaned as he felt his erection stirring again so soon.

"Hey, you better stop that if you don't want to get fucked even more senseless than you already are." But Yuri didn't stop, instead he reached down and squeezed Wolframs ass.

Seemingly a glutton for punishment, Yuri continued to arouse Wolfram for round after round of fucking until finally even he could take no more. As Yuri slipped into sleep, arms wrapped loosely around his Wolfram, he had the distinct impression that the golden locks before him looked rather smug.

And he couldn't help but think that it wasn't Wolfram who was smug, but that damned good looking hair itself.