Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Everything, And More ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

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Me: *Blinks* T-Tommy? Tommy, is that you?

Tommy: Mistress! I've been searching far and wide! I've finally found you!

Me: *eyes fill with tears* Tommy!

Tommy: Herme!

*Both run at each other and embrace while crying*

Innocent Bystander: Yes, after much time apart, author and muse have been reunited.

 

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Me: *Cues Evil Mad Scientist Laughter* MwuAhahahAHAH-cough!-AUAHahahahaHA! I'VE DONE IT!! I've finally done it!!! BwuaAhaHahahaha!

Tommy: *pulls out Tranq gun just in case* What have you done?

Me: *Gasp!* Whew, I can't breathe! *Gasp!Gasp!* Well, about a million years ago—

Tommy: Or two…

Me: …a friend of mine expressed interest in a GwenGünter story. I agreed and said one reader (flameofthenight!!) asked why I hadn't yet—I mean, I drop hints like crazy in nearly all my Yuuram stories, and truth be told: I like GwenGünter! Sad fact of the matter was: I had no plot bunny for the two and possibly even less confidence in my ability to write for the pair.

Tommy: *puts away gun but is still wary* …yeah?

Me: *Grins* Well, not long after that conversation, as I was trying to doze off (it's always when I'm trying to doze off! What's a girl gotta do to get some shut eye around this place?) I began thinking

Tommy: ~A dangerous pastime~—

Me: I know, but one line was so funny to me, I had to jot it down. It became part of the intro, and then morphed into the following.

Tommy: I see, now, to disclaimers. Care to—?

Me: Sure, why not? *puts on reading glasses* Cursing, of course, but not TOO bad...a bit of crudeness, voodoo, man smex, gambling, fluff, stuffed animals, and that may be it.

Tommy: So I suppose, here you go: one GwenGünter with a dash of Yuuram! Thus, this short is dedicated to Miz A. B., for unwittingly inspiring me, nagging me, editing for me, and robbing me of much needed sleep. Here's lookin' at you, kid!

Me: Enjoy.

 

9.Nov.08 - 26.Jun.10

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Everything, And More

By Herme23

 

chapitre ein

 

It was no secret.

 

Günter von Christ absolutely adored his new king. Everything about him, from his royal deep coal black hair and sparkling onyx eyes, to his slight, yet toned build. His gentle hands that served the people, upheld the laws and just about fixed everything. His regal voice that commanded respect; his gentle mannerisms; the unshakeable sense of good and evil, and his great desire to do right by everyone, from the richest lord to the poorest peasant.

 

Conrart thought so as well, though he seemed to show it in a slightly more subtle manner. See, Conrart loved nothing more than to watch over Yuri, and Günter privately (though many others also shared the opinion) thought that Conrart's greatest pleasure in life came from watching the interplay between his beloved godson and his most beloved little brother. Speaking of…

 

As for the youngest demon prince with the angel face…yeah, it was no secret that the young imp fancied the king. And if Günter wasn't mistaken, he rather thought that Yuri-heika returned Wolfram's somewhat tenacious affections—Günter forced back a sob.

 

As for the rest of them: Cheri-sama definitely was a fan, and one seemingly unsure of whether she'd like the young king to marry Wolfram, or simply seduce him herself; Murata-geika was an old hand at this whole demon king business, but ulterior motives aside, he genuinely held Yuri as one of his dearest friends; Ulrike had a great rapport going with the king, even going so far as to help Yuri handle his own crossings, giving him full reign as to when and where he crossed; Anissina never hesitated to let Yuri in on her newest inventions; and even Günter's own adopted daughter, Gisela, got along swimmingly with the new king.

 

And then there was Gwendal.

 

As it always did whenever the Gwendal von Voltaire subject arose, Günter's constantly fluttering mind came to a standstill, much as the striking butterfly comes to rest upon the soft petals of a flower. Yes, Günter was so pretty that even his bodily doings were graceful. Hell, to be crude, Günter shit art.

 

And Gwendal, though he had the obvious secret of loving small, cute and cuddly objects and/or people, was the exact opposite of Günter. No, Günter was serene, while Gwendal was somber. Gwendal loved the adorable, while Günter adored only Shibuya Yuri-heika.

 

Well, only Yuri-heika…and Gwendal himself.

 

Yes, for all their differences, and though Gwendal represented almost none of the (imagined or otherwise) qualities Günter loved in Yuri, Günter could not help but find himself longing for the man. But Günter had to be fair. If Gwendal was not *his* ideal man, then he was by no stretch of the imagination Gwendal's.

 

Not small, but long and elegant. Beautiful, not merely cute. Certainly not cuddly.

 

…Right?

 

**Could I be considered cuddly?** Günter wondered before softly shaking his head. **Surely not.**

 

And it was generally at this point in his sad thoughts that Günter's mind fluttered away from the topic once again.

 

Four days after, however, they came tumbling back in a very ungraceful, very un-Günter-like, manner. It had been just after lunch, and Günter was thinking of hunting down his majesty in order to give him a quick lesson, but just as he was heading down the hallway to the dining room Günter just happened to pass by the open door of Gwendal's study.

 

His feet screeched to a halt entirely of their own accord, and he plastered himself against the stone wall beside the doorway. Cautiously, Günter leaned his head over and peeked inside. He had only had a second's worth of a glimpse, but it was enough to entirely memorize Gwendal's profile.

 

Gwendal! Such masculine beauty! So serious and dedicated! Working tirelessly to keep the finer details in order to allow the Kingdom to keep running—at least until Yuri-heika learned enough to take on the bulk of the job. Oh, such noble sacrifices Gwendal made!

 

Günter snuck another peek around the doorsill and then hastily returned back to the shadows. His quick glances had been long enough to burn an image of Gwendal into Günter's memory for a few days more. Oh, if only Günter could have that serious gaze concentrated on him, solemnity burning into desire. Desiring *him.* *Needing* him. Gwendal cut such a fine profile in the soft sunlight that streamed through his open window that had Günter a gift for art, he'd capture it. Perhaps he'd be able to subtly persuade Wolfram one day? It was something to consider…

 

**Oh! Where would I keep it?** Günter wondered. If it were just anywhere then someone would see it. And Great One Above, forbid it be one of *those* *girls.*

 

There were Three, always Three, maids who were the orchestrators of the Underground Black Market for Information. And don't get Günter wrong—he had used the Network himself…alright, sometimes he was also an informant. Who doesn't like a good story? Especially when it was a juicy one and about someone you knew? How did you think Gwendal's cute & cuddly secret became known? That was all well and good but Günter never wanted, by any means, to be another good tale floating on those breezes!

 

Well, little did he know that within the next twenty-four hours events would occur that would effectively place him, along with Gwendal, into the #2 spot of the most heavily-traded gossip, second only to the love life of Yuri-heika.

 

“Sir von Christ?”

 

Günter jumped half a mile at the sound of his name. He turned and blanched to find one of the Three—Lasagna, was it?—standing before him. He briefly thought to clamp a hand over her mouth but it was too late.

 

“Sir von Christ, did you need to speak with Sir von Voltaire? You've been standing here for ten minutes,” she continued in a voice sure to carry. “He is within his study, please do not hesitate. I'm sure he will not be displeased to see you. Or if you prefer, I can announce you?”

 

She smiled up at him and Günter began to stutter. He took a step back and his back abruptly met with a stone-cut chest. His mouth went dry.

 

“Oh,” she said succinctly in her sweetest voice, “here he is now!”

 

Günter managed a small smile at the maid. His mind, however, was promising great voodoo vengeance…just as soon as he got out of this situation and got to his spell books. He'd have to make sure he found one that did not involve the harming of small animals, though, because if Gwendal caught wind of it, there was no telling what horrible things would happen to him at Gwendal's bidding. **Oh dear Great One above, Gwendal!** Günter managed to remember whose chest he was leaning, and took a step forward.

 

Calming himself, he turned slowly to face Gwendal. It took all of his will to not gasp, and not because of Gwendal's good looks. No, it was because Gwendal was sporting his classic “scary face.” Günter felt his face blanch even as his mouth fell open.

 

Gwendal seemed to almost smirk, but then he looked around Günter and said, “That will be all, Lasagna, thank you.”

 

Günter was surprised to find that he was *not* surprised the maid still there, no doubt memorizing every detail. That little tart! But then he heard her footsteps and knew she was leaving him alone with Gwendal, which was a position he half wanted to find himself in and half dreaded.

 

Especially now.

 

What was he supposed to say to Gwendal to give excuse for his being out here? Before he could say anything one way or the other, however, Gwendal turned and walked back into his study, beckoning for Günter to follow. Günter did and he felt his heart rate soar as it always seemed to do lately when he found himself anywhere within a hundred square feet of Gwendal. Or sometimes when he merely thought about him. In the darkest hours of the night, it was no secret to Günter what his mind craved, his body.

 

Speaking of…

 

Günter tried to ignore the disarray of his body and he swept as gracefully as he could into one of the seats before Gwendal's desk. Perhaps it was a bit too graceful, because Gwendal raised an eyebrow. Once seated, Günter returned himself to the task of trying to think up an alibi, but his mind refused to cooperate. He felt his cheeks warm, and he wondered desperately why he always began to act like a befuddled young girl whenever it came to Gwendal.

 

Was it just Günter? Was it?

 

It came to him, then, the memory of Wolfram telling him a year or so ago that “Befuddled and Love-struck Girl” was kind of Günter's Modus Operandi, to which he had maturely and wisely replied, “Look who's talking, princess.” The resulting cat fight had to be called off by his majesty, but not before enough damage was done to the West Wing to warrant a partial reconstruction.

 

“Where is his majesty?”

 

Günter jumped to hear Gwendal's deep timbre asking about one of the people he'd just been thinking of. “Off with Wolfram somewhere, I imagine,” Günter said, bringing up the other person.

 

“'You imagine?'” Gwendal repeated.

 

“Yes, they're both missing…which…is why…I'm here. *To ask you.* Er, to ask you if you knew where to,” he improvised quickly, pleased with himself.

 

“You're certainly calm about it,” Gwendal remarked, and Günter paused.

 

“Er, well, it happens so often it's hard to be surprised each and every time!” He gave a small laugh and immediately wished he could take back the hollow, fake little sounds. “I figured I'd ask Conrart after you,” Günter charged forward bravely, trying not to gag on his stupidity, “if you didn't know.”

 

“Why not first?”

 

“Your study is closer.”

 

“His majesty is closer to Conrart, so he'd be the obvious choice to have such information.”

 

“On the off chance.”

 

With each passing second, Günter felt his anxiety heighten. He was becoming more and more certain he was about to lose this Twenty Questions Game of Doom he had unintentionally signed up for. And then, Gwendal *looked* at him with those impossibly unfathomable eyes. Such dark eyes.

 

Panic materialized in the form of sweat as Günter imagined himself being stripped clean of all his horse-hocky. Gwendal was a master interrogator, Günter remembered, what had he been *thinking* in order to willingly enter this room!?

 

In order to regain some form of control (over himself at least) and to escape those eyes, Günter stood up quickly and immersed himself in studying over the choice crafts which sporadically decorated the shelves in Gwendal's study. Their cutesy (if somewhat garish) figures betrayed the seriousness of the books, entitled such hard things as The Little Black Book of Foreign Dignitaries, and Rich Maou, Poor Maou.

 

“These are lovely,” Günter said suddenly into the silence that had hounded his back ever since he stood up. “You have a beautiful collection of…uh, stuffed animals. Handmade, aren't they?”

 

He hadn't really expected Gwendal to reply, but he was pleasantly surprised when he did, albeit a bit stiffly.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yours?” Günter followed up.

 

“My what?”

 

“Hands. You made them yourself, right?”

 

Gwendal seemed to be a bit confused by the sudden turn of conversation. “Oh, er, yes.”

 

Günter decided to give up trying to identify the species of one of them and instead, turned to smile at Gwendal. “You have very talented hands,” he said sincerely.

 

When Gwendal blushed, Günter wasn't altogether sure what was going on. The blush which had just recently settled so nicely onto Gwendal's handsome features seemed so out of place, Günter almost didn't recognize it for what it was. It took a moment, but Günter finally did, and it was only then that he caught the unintentional double entendre in those words he had so thoughtlessly cast.

 

**Interesting,** he thought then.

 

A silence settled, and as it did the tension seemed to build. It rose to such a degree that it thickened the air between them, suffocating them, until it felt strange. It became intimate. Almost…sexual. Günter looked down from Gwendal's face to the floor quickly so that Gwendal wouldn't see the panic in his eyes. The reason for it being because of the large and (to Günter, at least) very prominent erection that had began to grow under Gwendal's unwavering scrutiny.

 

Just the man's *eyes* were enough to nearly throw Günter into orgasmic shudders, and before he could stop himself Günter imagined Gwendal crossing over to him, tearing off his clothes, and throwing him over the desk, taking him by force right there and then. Günter pressed his hand just under his nose in a very conspicuous effort to stem a nosebleed.

 

As if Gwendal could sense it, he stood and began making his way slowly towards Günter. Günter blinked several times, somehow believing that if he did so enough he could fight his erection off…that or the blush creeping its way up into his cheeks again. He wanted to begin making his excuses and leave but he wasn't sure his robes would be enough to hide his discomfort.

 

He risked a glance upwards and realized at once it was a mistake. His eyes locked dead on to Gwendal's and stayed their captive. His passion increased by volumes, his heart raced, and his breath became shallow. The tightening in his groin doubled and his blush deepened as he realized with some horror that there would be no “willing away” his arousal. There was only one way to be rid of it, and he'd better run away quick if he didn't want to shame himself eternally in Gwendal's presence.

 

Everything about Gwendal simply enticed him. It drew him in until he was slipping on the edges of madness. Gwendal's deep masculinity, his large muscled body, the rich timbre of his voice, the draw of his eyes, eyes which could crush you or caress you depending solely on the mood of their master. Such pull Gwendal had over Günter that Günter sometimes found it a veritable war he raged with the impulses of his body to not move towards that man. To not give in completely to the will and care of that sexy man.

 

And then his eyes abruptly dropped and were caught by Gwendal's lips, all but six inches away from him. They were moving.

 

“Are you alright?” they asked, and Günter nodded.

 

“I just may…I may need to lie down.”

 

“How about my bed?”

 

Still flustered, Günter could only reply, “What about your bed?”

 

Günter was somewhere floating in the higher stratospheres when the feeling of a strong arm curving around the small of his back brought him crashing abruptly back into the demon world.

 

“Would you like to be in it?” came a dark voice in his ear.

 

Günter took a hard left onto Impossibly Dense Lane. “U-um, by myself, you mean?”

 

“…With me, preferably.”

 

Günter dropped all false pretenses of trying to be calm and collected. “You? And—and me? Is that so?”

 

Günter's breath hitched as he felt Gwendal nodding against the side of his head. One of Gwendal's hands had stolen down his back and had neatly cupped one of his buttocks.

 

“Do you want that?”

 

Günter was just barely able to refrain from screaming “Yes!” Instead, he said, “You—you are certainly being quite bold today.”

 

Gwendal shrugged. “Took a pointer from his majesty.”

 

“WHAT?!”

 

“When he proposed to Wolfram. You know, the second time.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Günter had to quickly reign in his wildly streaking imagination—almost got a nosebleed again. But then his mind traveled back to what Gwendal had said to him. It was definitely a dream come true. Pulling back from Gwendal a bit, Günter looked up at him. Their eyes clicked, and that's all it took.

 

Gwendal leaned downwards at the same time Günter tilted his head upwards.

 

Their lips met and Günter groaned loudly, but the latter might be explained because Gwendal had joined their groins but half a moment after their lips. Günter could not help the way his hips leaned into Gwendal's, the lips and mouth which tried so hard to suck the very life out of the taller man. He *wanted* this man in a way he had never felt before, and Günter gave himself over to the desire now with a dangerous reckless abandonment.

 

Gwendal's lips upon his felt like a dream. Once Günter felt them he didn't shy away from them like he'd always imagined he would. Any thoughts of playing any such games faded quickly and Günter instead found himself shamelessly pressing the length of this entire body up against Gwendal's.

 

Gwendal's body was hard, toned by many long years of training, but it was warm and the heat that transpired between them only served to arouse Günter all the more. Even as he felt Gwendal's hands grope lower on his body, Günter began to grind his hips against the other man, eager to signal his intentions.

 

It worked: Gwendal groaned—a deep throaty sound that threatened to throw Günter over the edge right then.

 

“Let's move to my bedroom,” Gwendal said then, his voice gone husky with barely controlled lust. Günter shuddered and could hardly make a sound that resembled any sort of verbal agreement, but it was enough.

 

Gwendal grinned as his hands gripped at Günter's small and tight buttocks, using them to pull Günter forward into his own grinding hips. He took a step forward and then another, trying to guide their progress out of the study and down the hallway towards his bedchambers, where he vowed he would do very scandalous things, indeed, to the glorious corporeal temple of Günter von Christ.

 

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Me: Well, folks, there you have it! I thank you for taking a gander at this and I can only hope that it entertained you enough so that you're curious to read the next, and last, installment of part two, to be posted in a few days! If you liked it, let us know, if you hated it, let us know, we really wanna hear from you! Thanks again!

 

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