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“I wasn’t d-done—ahh fuuuck—hahhh.”
The small mound of pillows slips a little beneath Jeno, getting slowly more dislodged from their orderly stack the longer Donthyuck has him there, face down against the carpet and pretty ass up, frilly hem of his skirt bunched in Donghyuck’s greedy hands.
Donghyuck crushes the silky material between his fingers and pushes his tongue deeper into Jeno’s even silkier soft hole. If he stops breathing there, nose and face buried in the heat of Jeno’s cute ass, squeezed between his strong thighs and the pretty lace garters circling them, he’ll be fine with it.
A squeak and moan follows Donghyuck slurping his tongue back and nipping at the loosened flesh of Jeno’s rim.
Donghyuck breathes and laughs. “Yes you were.”
“The cushions are gonna be all crushed now,” Jeno argues, pushing up on an elbow to look over the puffed sleeve covering his shoulder. His headband sits askew, the little circle of lace on the black band off center over his mussed up black hair. A large bow keeps the dress cinched tight around his trim waist, prettily highlighting it against the breadth of his shoulders. “I fluffed them all for no reason.”
“Nooo babygirl,” coos Donghyuck, ignoring the shiver Jeno suffers and petting the white stocking gliding up Jeno’s slim calf, “I loved watching you do it. You in your pretty dress.” He admires the fluffy skirt, fanning it out momentarily. “Loved it so much I had to bend you over them and get my hands on you. Get under this pretty skirt and show you how much I loved it. See?”
Ducking down, Donghyuck flips the skirt over his head and gets back to it, unbothered by the layer of taffeta in his personal little ass-eating tent. The warmth and Jeno’s delicious musky scent practically consumes him, trapped under the thin black canopy with single-minded purpose.
Jeno trembles as Donghyuck wriggles his middle finger in alongside his tongue and screws it meanly into his prostate.
“Can’t I take this off already?”
“Hm?”
“Hyuckie please, wanna take it off and—“
“Who? To whom are you speaking?”
Retreating from his frilly tent once more, Donghyuck shuffles Jeno around until he’s on his back, the entirety of the lolita maid costume a scrumptious disarray for Donghyuck to gaze down upon. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and raises a condeming eyebrow at Jeno.
A hot red flesh spreads across Jeno’s face.
“S-sir…I was asking…sir…”
Donghyuck smiles, feeling a hot wash of pleasure bloom in his chest. Renjun was so right about the outfits. Even right that a skimpy costume wouldn’t do quite as well on Jeno—the lace and frills, the puffed sleeves, the longer skirt all suit him much better. Seeing wrinkles in the previously crisp white apron and heart-shaped chest, and knowing they’re his doing, makes a curl of delight twist in Donghyuck’s gut.
“No, pretty girl,” Donghyuck purrs. Sitting back on his heels, he pushes his hair back from his face, then hikes both Jeno’s knees over his elbows, the smooth stockings soft against his arms. “We’re gonna keep it on while I fuck you, and for the rest of the afternoon.”
Jeno throws an arm over his eyes, sinking his teeth into his lower lip while Donghyuck yanks him forward. The skirt floats down around his hips. Donghyuck pulls the ruined lace panties further aside and lines his cock up with a thumb under the head to push in amid a cloud of delicate fabric. He twists his fingers into the garters as he sits full to the hilt, and groans when Jeno tenses around him.
Neither of them lasts long.
Donghyuck apologizes for the stains on the dress after with a flurry of kisses up Jeno’s cheek.
Sulky, Jeno scrunches his nose. “Stop,” he whines, “just untie the bow and get the zipper so I can wash it.”
Donghyuck pauses. He slides his hands to Jeno’s waist, feeling the ribbons there, and presses his lips to Jeno’s ear. His voice is a throaty whisper.
“Oh no, darling. I was very serious. The dress stays on.”
When he pulls back, Jeno won’t look at him, red face kept aside, but the front of his skirt begins to tent suspiciously again.
With a laugh and a tap on Jeno’s butt, Donghyuck glides out of the sitting room. “Come along, pretty girl,” he calls back, “let’s see how long we make it with you dusting the crown moldings. We’ve got quite the afternoon ahead of us.”
— — —
Technically speaking, it wasn’t necessary for Renjun to buy maid outfits for them to wear around the Huang-Lee household for the day. They already have a set—a few actually, in some varying themes. Jaemin lists them on their website with pricing for add-on to any service and they’re a very popular item so, really, it wasn’t necessary.
And technically, Jaemin has a rule in their paperwork disallowing clients from providing clothing or props outside of pre-discussed items; anything the client wants, Jaemin can bring with them. For everyone’s comfort and safety.
But they’re a little beyond technicalities with Renjun and Donghyuck by this point.
Jaemin didn’t flinch at the surprise. In fact, he smiled.
Smiled when Jeno stepped out in the maid costume straight from a anime, polished Mary Jane’s included. Smiled when the outfit he was given fit too snugly when he went to zip it up, knowing Renjun sized it down on purpose. Smiled when he set the sanitizer bottle aside and peeled off his pink rubber gloves, slowly, one at a time, without breaking Renjun’s yearning gaze.
Smiles now, up from under fanning eyelashes, with his lips stretched around Renjun’s drooling cock.
Every time he swallows Renjun down, Jaemin feels the lace collar around his neck tighten pleasantly. He doesn’t even mind that Renjun can’t seem to focus just on his mouth, eyes wandering to Jaemin’s thighs, his knees spread wide on the floor in front of the big wingback armchair Renjun sits in. The skirt barely extends past his hips—he’d left the accompanying pair of shorts in the package and felt the thong enough, though now he’s a bit too fattened up to stay fully inside it.
Perhaps it’s not his thighs Renjun keeps staring at, then.
Renjun’s eyes flick up, flutter when Jaemin licks at his frenulum, then settle elsewhere again, though not as low as his crotch.
Jaemin curves his shoulders in, pressing his bare biceps into the sides of his chest, and lifts his sternum. The extremely low cut dress stretches obscenely over his cleavage.
Renjun’s cock jumps in his mouth.
“Oh god,” Renjun breathes.
Jaemin pulls off with a sickening slurp and smiles with all his teeth. “Like what you see, Master?”
His hair is short, but still long enough even with the undercut for Renjun’s small fingers to grip into. Jaemin moans himself at the rough way Renjun tugs his head back.
“Did I say you could speak?”
When Jaemin holds his tongue, Renjun rattles his brain with a quick shake.
“No, Master,” Jaemin growls. He spreads his knees a little wider, forcing the skirt even shorter and feeling the cool floor tease where he’s most vulnerable.
Renjun glances at Jaemin’s cock, fully hard.
“Right.” Renjun takes a shaky breath. He moves a slippered foot between Jaemin’s legs and presses down, the toe hidden under just the edge of the skirt as he crushes Jaemin’s cock into the floor. “I think your mouth is too busy to speak, anyway, isn’t it?”
Jaw hanging loose already from the delicious pain, Jaemin dives forward to take Renjun in his mouth again, saliva dripping from his lips. He swallows when the head kisses the back of his throat, greedily enjoying Renjun’s shiver of pleasure and unbothered that he’ll be the one to mop the floor later.
“Make Master come, just like this,” Renjun says in his airy, lovely voice, “but not in your mouth. I’m going to come all over your tits.”
He doesn’t have to say so twice.
When Jaemin can feel Renjun’s balls tighten against his fingers, Jaemin guides his cock out of his mouth and lifts off his heels, cradling Renjun’s cock against his breast and rubbing it along the deep valley between. The lacy spaghetti straps keep the top in place just barely, the little bow at the center point between his boobs teasing the underside of Renjun’s cock with extra friction.
Renjun shudders. His breath grows shallow, and he braces both hands on Jaemin’s shoulders, eyes low lidded and hazy staring down into Jaemin’s.
Jaemin holds his gaze, and smiles.
Renjun forgets to keep his foot down when he comes, decorating Jaemin’s naked bosom with his seed and staring at his masterpiece until Jaemin gathers his twitching dick to his lips to lick clean. He doesn’t seem to notice Jaemin’s other hand wrap around his ankle and tug his foot closer, nor the subtle way Jaemin ruts against his slipper until he spills cum into the thong and it overflows onto the slipper too.
“I’m buying you a bustier for next time,” Renjun croaks out, then licks his lips and swallows to ease his dry throat.
Jaemin looks down at a glob of semen sliding over the swell of his right pec, watches until it slips into the shadow heading for his stomach.
“That’ll be nice,” he agrees.
Renjun’s countenance darkens immediately. “What did I just say about speaking?”
A thrill skates down Jaemin’s spine. He settles back on his heels once again, and smiles.