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Kota is a full time wrestler, is the happiest he’s ever been, and it’s all because of Kenny.So when he takes Kenny to dinner or buys him nice clothes or, once, a car, he always justifies it that way - that Kenny put him on the path of his best life.“But - you did too! For me! You don’t have to give me all this stuff!” Kenny protests, after the car, which was a very sensible hatchback, recommended by his brother’s wife. “I can take it back,” Kota says, “I can stop, it’s just - I like giving you things you need? Or want?” Kenny’s shoulders sag and Kota starts to panic - he’s said something wrong. “If you don’t want it, tell me, it’s no trouble. If I go too far it’s that - I can’t tell, I don’t know what’s appropriate. I never have.”Kenny’s laugh breaks through his concerned mouth, like the sun appearing from behind a cloud. He reaches out to Kota, takes his hand. “Neither, really. It’s just - I’m freaking out because - like - I can never repay this. Everything. What you’ve given me.”“You don’t owe me anything. I would never - Kenny, I don’t want you to repay me! I want you to be - with me. For as long as you want to be.”Kenny intertwines their fingers, shakes his head. “That’s all I want. Forever,” he says, and Kota is desperately in love with him.But he does stop surprising Kenny with gifts - he’ll now make it a discussion, or wait for Kenny to suggest they upgrade the weight set. Kenny gets his own income from matches and teaching, now, and will also take them out to dinner - but he’s just not that interested in money, or brands, unless they’re for games systems. Kota’s mother had implied, very early on, that Kenny was using him for his funding, but she only had to meet him to realise - Kenny would prefer to beat his own Megaman high score then get a big paycheck. So the dress is - a surprise.***Kota hasn’t bought anything big for Kenny in nearly a year? But he’s standing backstage of DDT’s Perversion show, pulling the athletic tape off of Kenny’s back, hearing the cheap fabric of a dollar store wedding dress rip under his hands. “Is it OK?” Kenny asks, glancing back.“No,” Kota holds up a strip of shitty satin he’s torn away. “Why? Did you want to reuse this?”The back of Kenny’s neck, still sweaty from his match, flushes. “Maybe,” he says.Kota thinks about how Kenny had twirled and fluttered his eyelashes in the ring, how he had smoothed down his skirt and smiled at himself in the mirror. “You like wearing dresses?”“Kind of?” he turns, pulls the dress down his chest - it gathers around his waist in a white cloud, and he looks even more angelic than usual - rosy, glowing, fluttering his eyelashes again - not for a crowd, but for Kota. “Just for fun. It’s not a big deal.” He fists his hands in the skirt. “Is that - OK?”Kota wraps the piece of fabric and tape he’s still holding around his hand, smiles. “Of course.”“Hey, come one, you two, we’ve got the finale,” Takeru brushes past them, and Kenny has to step out of the dress so they can go finish the show.When they come back, the dress has been trodden on so many times by dirty boots Kenny puts it straight in the bin, shaking his head.Kota slips the scrap he has left into his bag.***Kenny doesn’t bring it up again, but Kota keeps it in his mind, and he already knows Kenny’s measurements.He makes some calls.***It takes about a month to make, and rather than risk the post, Kota collects it from the tailor.“Please let me know if you require any alterations,” Suda-san tells him, passing the large box across the desk.Kota thanks him, tips generously.***He’s home before Kenny, and starts making soup just for something to do with his hands.He’s seen the dress, he wants Kenny to open the box - he doesn’t need to pull it out again, just to look at it. He needs to make dinner.Kenny arrives home smelling like sweat, kisses him on the cheek on his way to the bathroom.Kota has soup on the table by the time he’s done showering, and Kenny kisses him again.They talk about this weekend’s matches, Kenny’s plan to get one of his Canadian friends to come over.“He’s a maskman, you’re going to love him. Everyone loves him.”He gets his laptop, pulls up some matches, and they watch at the table. After, Kenny takes the bowls to the sink, singing some pop song he likes as he splashes around.“Thank you for cleaning,” Kota tells him.“Thank you for cooking,” Kenny replies, smiling.“I actually - I have something. For you. If you don’t like it, please don’t feel you have to accept it. I had - this idea.”“It’s not a car?” Kenny says, half joking.“No. I’ll - get it.”When he puts the big flat box on the coffee table, Kenny glances up at him. “A suit? Are we going somewhere fancy?” Of course Kenny recognises his tailor’s packaging. Kota shakes his head.Kenny raises his eyebrows, slides the band off, flips the lid back - stares.There’s a lacy bodice, a wide, silky sash around the waist. Kenny lifts it from the tissue paper, and the long skirt spills out, white and billowing.“It ties at the front, and is dry cleanable, so you could use it for matches, or as entrance gear. If you like.”“Kota,” Kenny says, gathering the dress into his arms.“Is it OK?”Kenny’s nodding, and - oh, he’s crying, a little. “No one - no one’s ever,” he heaves in a breath, looks at Kota, at the dress again, smiles. “I’m gonna put it on.”“Please,” Kota nods, catches him by the elbow, rests his forehead against Kenny’s face for a moment. “I’m so glad.”“Same,” Kenny says, “same.”He puts the dress back on the table, takes off his shirt, steps out of his shorts - here, next to the coffee table.“Help me?” Kenny asks, and Kota holds it out, wraps it around Kenny’s chest while Kenny ties the sash. There’s no sleeves, but there is a kind of ribbing in the bodice that holds it up. Suda-san had excellent ideas. The dress is excellent - bright white against Kenny’s skin, spidery lace and shining silk. He turns, holds his hands out in a little presentational gesture. The bodice covers his nipples, the skirt covers his legs, but the effect is incredibly erotic. “How do I look?”“Perfect,” Kota says, honestly, and pulls Kenny close, hands on the bodice, feeling the vertical ribbing and Kenny’s quick intake of breath. “You look perfect.”Kenny giggles, rubs his nose against Kota’s cheek, says, “I thought for a second you had gotten me, like, a sex thing.”Kota grins back at him. “It could be. We could have sex.” He slips his hand down the cool fabric to Kenny’s arse, squeezes.“Could we?” Kenny says, delighted. “Do you want to? Do you want to be newlyweds, starting our honeymoon? Or you’re the best man, and this is the last fling before the wedding?”“Or I’m me, and you’re you, and I fuck you in this dress,” Kota tells him. Kota doesn’t really have the patience for playacting the way Kenny does. Kenny shivers, bites down on his neck, hands clutching Kota’s hips. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, we can do that.”“Want to see you open yourself up,” Kota says, and Kenny nods, steps back, one hand around Kota’s wrist. Kota wants to watch Kenny, wants to touch Kenny, wants to devour him, and the dress. He follows him into the bedroom, strips off.Kenny lies back, wraparound skirt parting as he spreads his legs. Kota pushes it further up, finding golden hairs and smooth muscles, helps peel his briefs down, revealing his flushed, heavy dick. “Get the lube,” Kenny says, voice catching. Kota stretches out beside him as Kenny slides a finger into himself - Kota kisses his shoulder, traces his collarbone, the outline of his mouth, the edge of his bodice as Kenny shifts and rocks and groans. The dress is slippery against Kota’s skin, warming between them.“I’m - I’m ready,” Kenny says, after a while. Kota props himself up, takes him in. He’s red, white, gold, shining. “Ride me?”“Fuck,” Kenny rolls onto Kota, gathering his skirt up and getting to his knees above him. “Fuck, yes.”Kota reaches between them, rubs his dick against Kenny, who’s dripping lube, impossibly hot. He holds himself still, and Kenny sinks down, humming, settling his dress around them both. Kenny’s dick is still pressing up, obvious and almost funny under the bow of the sash, and Kota reaches for it, fumbles in the fabric.Kenny laughs at him, so Kota snaps his hips up - Kenny makes a strangled sound, shoves down again. “You look good, you look so good, but I also want to tear this apart,” Kota says, making fists in the dress, pulling it away from Kenny’s crotch.“Could have - used a cheap one for - that,” Kenny gasps, and Kota grabs his arms, rolls them over - he slips out in the process but now Kenny’s on his back and Kota can push the skirt up, hoist one of Kenny’s legs over his shoulder.“You should have the best,” Kota says, lining himself up again, relishing Kenny’s fingers digging into his thighs as he slides in. Now he can set a slow pace and pull Kenny off at the same time, he can enjoy the contrast of the white dress and Kenny’s flushed skin, watch him turn his head into the pillow and bite his bottom lip as Kota drags himself out and pushes himself in. He loses himself a while - Kenny has consumed him, he thinks, for a second.Eventually Kenny starts pressing up, clenching his muscles and hands.“Mmm?” Kota makes an inquiring noise, slowing his pace. “Please,” Kenny mumbles, looking into his eyes. “Come. Please, come.” He can’t resist. He starts snapping his hips into Kenny, working his wrist, feeling his orgasm build from the inside out, both of them pulsing, arching, the dress has fallen open and he can see Kenny’s belly, his chest, beautiful, bare, and suddenly splattered with come. He comes too, shaking as he draws himself, at last, out.Kota drops so he’s draped half over Kenny, head pillowed on his chest, swirls his fingertips intently along Kenny’s stomach.“Oh my god,” Kenny says, in English. There’s usually a grace period of a minute or so after orgasm that Kenny’s fine with come - in him, on him, on Kota - and then he insists it’s gross. Kota rubs his hand, then his tongue along Kenny’s belly, drags himself down to kiss Kenny’s softening dick, his thighs, licks between his legs, mixing them together, on his face, in his mouth.“Oh my god, god, god,” Kenny clutches at Kota’s scalp, pulling his hair.He slows down, looks up at Kenny, grins. Kenny looks dazed, hot, and he tugs Kota up, kisses him on the mouth, tasting them. They kiss deep, hungry, and he feels Kenny settle from desperation to quiescence under him.Kota tucks his head under Kenny’s chin, feels the dress, still slippery, under them.“I need - seven showers,” Kenny says, after a while. “Was that OK?” Kota asks, “At the end?”“Yeah. It always seems like a good idea at the time, but now it’s - drying? Yeah, let me up.”Kenny staggers to the bathroom, and Kota wipes his mouth on the back of his hand - he’ll wash up later. He gathers the dress up, shakes it out - it could be worn tomorrow without anyone knowing. He lays it over the back of a chair, where all their clothes end up, and lies back.Kenny comes back - not showered, but clean, and hands him a damp hand towel, because he’s very sweet and kind of a neat freak. Kota wipes himself off, pulls a sheet up and curls around Kenny on the bed. “It was a good gift?”“A great gift,” Kenny says, a smile in his voice.