Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Out with the Old, In with the New ❯ 1 Anything but That, Anyone but Him ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: Herme23

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=Out with the Old, In with the New=

First Installment: Anything but That, Anyone but Him

Outside of the stables, Wolfram stamped his foot in frustration as he tried to stare down the stubborn boy in front of him. It was kinda hard to stare down a person the same height as you. But Wolfram wasn't gonna give up. He was Wolfram von Bielefelt! He did not give up!

“It's my duty to protect you!” Wolfram shouted, at the same time thinking, **Do you know how many parties I could be at right now, you ungrateful ass?!** “I have to come with you to make sure no one tries to do anything…indecent to you!” **And I would know, I've seen those guys in action!**

“What are you talking about?” his new Maou and fiancÃ©e replied.

Wolfram stared at him in surprise. What was Yuri? Some kind of idiot? Did he not understand the words coming out of Wolfram's mouth?

“Who would try to do anything `indecent' to me at this time of night?” Yuri continued.

Wolfram blinked. **Oh dear me…**

“I'm just going to—”

“I don't care what you're `just going' to do!” Wolfram cut in, finally having had it with Yuri's seeming obliviousness to the perviness of the world. “The nights around here can get wild—er, out of control.”

“How can you be sure? You sleep like a rock! A rolling rock!”

**I do now,** Wolfram thought. Sure, Wolfram was all about waking at dawn and training and all, same as the next soldier, but at night…oh, his night life! Oh…his *past* night life…his current night life consisted of trying to sleep in Yuri's bed (the rightful place of any royalty's fiancÃ©e, if Yuri would bother to hear him out) and fighting with him for space (the jerk was a blanket hog, that's what). What was left of Wolfram's good mood went up in smoke.

“But Wolfram—” Yuri began, but they were interrupted by someone before he could finish replying.

“Wolfram, good evening.”

Wolfram turned to look at the young man standing next to them. In one instant, he assessed the person smiling down at him. Wildly sexy; thrillingly passionate; rich enough; smart enough to know how to kiss; brunette hunk of a man. Wolfram's mental Little Black Book shuffled through the index. Finally it hit gold.

“Menno.”

“Good evening, your majesty, forgive me for interrupting but I desperately need to speak with Wolfram in private—”

“Menno!” Wolfram said again, grabbing onto Menno's arm and dragging him away…far away…from the spot where Yuri stared after them in surprise.

Menno grinned as Wolfram shoved him into a dark recess of the stable. “Brings back old times, eh? I had a feeling you'd be happy to see me,” he said as he pulled Wolfram flush against him.

“Ugh, Menno!” Wolfram said as he was pulled nearly off his feet. He stared up at Menno as he tried to pull away from him. “Haven't you heard yet?”

“About you and the Demon King? Are you really serious?” Menno continued to talk as though everything was cool, even though he had a small bundle of blonde bombshell struggling to get away from his encircling arms. “You can't be, how long has he been here? A week and you're already getting married?”

“Circumstances…” Wolfram began but Menno cut him off.

“C'mon, Wolf-baby. You don't honestly intend to honor this marriage thing? I heard you were forced into it.”

Wolfram stopped struggling abruptly.

“So, it's true?” Menno said with a sly grin. “You shouldn't have to marry him just because he's the Demon King.”

Wolfram didn't respond save for a narrowing of his eyes.

“Let's run away, you and me, Wolfy. Leave everything behind, and you and I can just—”

Outside Yuri hovered between waiting for Wolfram (though, honestly, he should really just ditch him and that'd be the end of this argument) and just high tailing it out of there (…but maybe he's almost done talking to…whoever that guy was). He was startled when there was a sudden burst of flames coming out from the entrance that Wolfram and that other guy had disappeared through and also in the small windows along the walls. The flames however disappeared as quickly as they had appeared and before Yuri had much time to become alarmed, he caught sight of Wolfram walking out through the door, right as rain.

“W-Wolfram?” Yuri said. “What the hell was that?”

Wolfram was fixing his jacket, which seemed a bit in disarray for some reason, and tossed his hair back out of his eyes. “Nothing,” he said authoritatively as he came to a halt in front of Yuri. “Now, about this whole `going out' thing…”

Yuri sighed. He should've cut and run.

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It seemed in the next few days that everyone, man and woman, who thought they had had a claim on Wolfram's heart was out to collect him.

In that short space of time, annoying as it all was, Wolfram had to admit: he was hot shit. And he had some good taste.

His feeling of euphoria did not last long, however. He had never in his life thought he'd be breaking up with each and every person he'd ever considered liking one right after another. All so soon!

**Damn it!** Wolfram thought after he had just simultaneously (and not without going through great deals of trouble) let go of #23, Erich (adorable, sweet with a perverted twist, filthy rich, perfect, slender, red-headed genius) and #24, Helmine (beautiful, sexy, rich, empty-headed buxom vision). **My life!**

Here he was, at the beginning of the best years of his life (finally!) and suddenly he had to become a good little boy for his “fiancÃ©e” who was *years* younger (emphasis on the years…okay, okay, it was all relative, but still!) and seemed like he really couldn't care less about their engagement. Wolfram was glad for once that Yuri had disappeared back to his own world. The first day of keeping an eye on Yuri and still keeping his break-ups secret from the guy was tough, especially considering he'd had to sizzle more than a few of them and one guy tried to use the old “I'll kill myself if you leave me” ploy.

Hmph, loser.

He sighed as he threw himself upon his bed.

No, wait, he sighed as he threw himself upon *their* bed. The bed in which he shared approximately fifty-percent of, the other fifty belonging to his promised, Yuri. “Approximately” because more than once he had awoken to find either himself or Yuri in some odd position more than half off the bed. Sometimes completely on the floor. Wolfram had decided that this was Yuri's influence, not his. He had never been this bad of a sleeper before he had taken to sleeping in His Majesty's bed.

Wolfram sighed as he spread himself out across the bedspread. Nuzzling his nose into the soft comforters brought up the flowery scent that came from the water the blankets were washed in and traces of the people who occupied the bed.

There was the faint smell of some metallic substance that no doubt came from Wolfram's skin, lingering from his long sessions of training; an earthy smell, a smell of leather, coming from Yuri, a tribute to his favorite pastime. And sweat of course.

Wolfram sighed again.

**Mind out of the gutter,** he thought, chastising.

The sweat had most definitely not come from long nights of romping between the sheets. Instead it was simply an unfortunate side affect of being active boys who were sometimes too tired to bathe before bed.

Boys.

There was another thing. Yuri seemed to have a problem with the two of them being boys. As if it were cause for concern enough for them to not be able to marry. Wolfram couldn't understand his reasoning. “Because” wasn't a reason, unless you're a parent. And that was another thing: it wasn't as if Wolfram couldn't provide Yuri with as much of a pure-blooded heir as could be hoped with Yuri's already befouled blood. Honestly, did Yuri actually think that he as their sovereign would have been allowed to marry another man if Wolfram couldn't do this one all-too-important thing?

Wolfram frowned. He didn't particularly care for the idea. He certainly wasn't thrilled about it. Love and marriage, marriage and children. These were not on his long list of “To-Do” things. Wolfram smirked. There were plenty of fine people on his “Might Wanna Do” list, however.

“Damn it all, Yuri!” Wolfram said aloud then. **Ruining my life!** he continued in his head.

“What'd I do now?”

Startled, Wolfram flipped over onto his side to stare at Yuri, standing soaking wet in their doorway.

“You!” Wolfram began in surprise before quickly covering it up with disdain. “So you're back, huh? What a cheater!”

“Cheater?” Yuri repeated, confused. “How am I a cheater?”

“Never mind that!” Wolfram said, not feeling gracious enough to divulge his reasoning. “Why did you sneak up on me like that? You cowardly wimp!”

Yuri scowled. “Stop calling me a wimp; and I wasn't sneaking up on you. I just came into *my* room to find you already complaining about me. I just got back!”

“Hmph, I guess that explains then why you're dripping all over the floor. Go to the baths, will you? Or do you want me to bathe you?”

“I was going to do that right now!” Yuri exploded, as lively as ever it seemed. “And no, I don't need you to bathe me!”

Wolfram refrained from replying (as difficult as it was to not comment on Yuri's wet sagging pants that made him look ridiculous) as Yuri stomped around the room. **He's an idiot,** Wolfram thought to himself. Then there was a knock on the door.

When the door opened it revealed one of the castle maids, but not the ones that Wolfram recognized. There were Three, always Three, who always lurked around trying to dish up gossip on everyone in the castle. Wolfram mentally shrugged. Alright, alright, sometimes he had been in on certain wagers, but hey…sometimes it was just plain fun and not even he could pass up on a good wager involving Gunter, Gwendal and a bowl of chocolate sauce…

“Forgive me for interrupting, your majesty,” the young lady said, and Wolfram narrowed his eyes, searching for any signs of flirting between the two of them. If *he* had to give up his life, then so did Yuri. “I have a message for Lord von Bielefelt.” Wolfram raised his eyebrows. “There is a young man who wishes to meet with you. If it pleases you, he is waiting in the small drawing room.”

Wolfram slid himself up off of the bed. “Who is it?”

“Lord Ludovic Zemire.”

Yuri watched with some curiosity as Wolfram became still. Inside, however, Wolfram was torn somewhere between visibly shaking and acting haughty.

Tall and suitably muscled, with thick brown hair and the bluest eyes this side of the world, Ludo was already a fine choice, but these attributes coupled with a charming and sensual personality made Ludo a danger to anyone trying to avoid rendezvous with heartbreak. Even Wolfram had rather felt that his tryst with Ludo would end with Ludo telling him he'd found someone better rather than with the usual “I'm Leaving, So Bye” speech that Wolfram usually pulled out when the occasion called for it.

Now with this whole “I, Wolfram von Bielefelt, am to marry the Maou” bit, Wolfram had figured that it was over with all of his paramours, and that he'd never see Ludo again. He had rather expected some of his former lovers to show up, and he hadn't been disappointed: they had; but truth be told, he was hoping that this one, #25 Ludovic Zemire, would never show up. He hadn't really expected him to, actually.

Yes, Ludovic Zemire was one fine bastard. Everyone knew it. Wolfram knew it. Ludo himself knew it. And funnily enough, this only served to make him more desirable on Wolfram's internal desire charts. Something about Ludo's insufferable confidence, and the way he seemed to dominate over Wolfram, just triggered something long-buried in Wolfram's mind: the desire to be cared for.

Not just loved, but to be protected. Something he'd probably never admit aloud.

Wolfram glanced then over at Yuri. The wimp was still standing in his wet clothes, staring at both Wolfram and the maid who was awaiting Wolfram's response. Wolfram narrowed his eyes at Yuri. No, he would never get what he wanted from Yuri. The wimp was simply…too soft.

He needed someone who would lay a firm hand down, someone whom Wolfram could tolerate this from.

And as it turned out, Ludo was the only one who had come close enough to being Wolfram's choice.

“Lord von Bielefelt?” the maid said then. “Are you feeling alright? Should I ask Lord Zemire to return tomorrow?”

“No,” Wolfram decided then. “No, that's alright. I'll meet with him.”

Wolfram figured he just had to gather up all of the intestinal fortitude he possessed and break it off with Ludo. The weaker part of him wanted to just give the message to the maid to deliver, but that was so cowardly he felt ashamed of himself. No, perhaps it was better to do something of this nature in person. He probably owed it to Ludo…

Oh, shit. Wolfram paled. It was his worst fear come true: he was being sensitive to someone other than himself, strict family and even that damned Conrart. And even worse, he was being sensitive to a paramour, a soon-to-be ex-paramour, and it could only mean one thing.

“Oh shit, I think I love him,” he muttered.

“I'm sorry, Lord von Bielefelt, I didn't hear,” the maid said. “May I ask you to repeat it?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing!” Wolfram said hurriedly. “I'm leaving now. You!” he said then to Yuri. “Get to the baths or something. I'll be back later. And another thing,” Wolfram said to the maid as he walked out the door, “get those sheets washed!”

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