“Hurry up would ya?” Dabi yells, leaning his head back against the back of the sofa. He huffs and splays his knees out wider, fingers tapping impatiently on the couch frame. “Seriously, how fucking long does it take to put on a dr-?”
He pauses when the door across the room slams open, hard enough that it hits the wall as it swings back. A smile stretches, slow and gleeful, across his face as he takes in the sight before him. Chisaki glowers back at him from the other side of the threshold, cheeks a shocking shade of red. If looks could kill then Dabi doesn’t doubt he’d be lifeless on the floor right about now. He’s wearing the expression of a man who gambled and lost. To be fair, it serves him right for thinking Dabi wouldn’t cheat at poker - not that he’s going to let him know that fact, of course.
The maid’s outfit is perfect despite it not really being made for Chisaki’s shape. It’s puffy and lacy and cute. He’s too tall for it, so it reveals far too much leg. He’s too broad, so the lace strains at his shoulders and the corset is half undone to make up for his abdomen. Dabi can’t find it in himself to complain about either of those wardrobe malfunction. To top it off those grim little kitten heels he’s teetering on barely fit his feet, so he winces with each step he takes forward. God, he must despise wearing it. He must want to tear both the dress and Dabi to shreds at that moment.
“I hate you,” Chisaki seethes, slamming the door shut behind him. “You’re going to pay for this next time.”
Dabi rakes his gaze up and down the other man’s body in as sleazy a manner as he can muster - it works, if Chisaki’s disgusted scoff is anything to go by. “Well fuck me, ain’t you a pretty specimen?”
“Dabi,” he warns, fingers rolling into fists around the swathes of lace at his sides. He’s still wearing his gloves, Dabi was unable to pry those off him, but the mask was thankfully gone for the time being. Dabi wouldn’t want to miss these pissy little facial expressions for the world.
The villain rises to his feet and closes the distance between them quickly, eager to get his hands on that cheap, perfect outfit. He slides an arm around Chisaki’s waist, pleased that even the small heels fail to bring him anywhere close to his six-two height, and drags him close, close enough for Chisaki to jerk his head back. Well now, that just won’t do. Dabi catches the man’s chin with his other hand and yanks him back so their faces are but a breath apart. His pretty, cute little maid hisses like a pissed-off cat and slaps a hand against his chest, fingernails digging hard into the bare skin around his collarbones.
“Wrong name, sweetheart,” Dabi murmurs, nudging his nose against Chisaki’s throat. “You know the deal. Act your part like a good little maid.”
A pink flush rises on Chisaki’s face at the term and the way Dabi’s hands are sinking below the puffy skirt to rake up his thighs to the complicated ties and buckles of the suspender belt that’s sitting high on his hips. Surprisingly, it’s in the right place, Dabi thinks with a smirk. Kai must have had to look up how to wear it, he can’t have known prior. He bites his lower lip and groans, low and deep and filthy into Chisaki’s ear. The smaller man shudders at the sound.
“C’mon, pretty. Say it.”
Chisaki hisses again and digs his nails in harder. “Go fuck yourself.”
The villain’s forefinger curls around the strap connecting the suspender belt to the lacy top of a stocking and snaps it hard against Chisaki’s thigh, earning a furious yelp in response. Dabi shushes him and strokes his thumb over the sore skin, pressing just a little too hard to be comfortable.
“Thought you were a guy of your word? You promised - if I won I could have whatever I want. This is what I want,” Dabi says, fingers slipping up to grip the flesh of Chisaki’s inner thigh. He starts to heat his hand and Chisaki’s eyes bulge. “Come on, I’m waiting.”
His forefinger sizzles unpleasantly against Chisaki’s leg and the man buckles with a sharp yell, held up only by Dabi’s arm around his waist. Chisaki grits his teeth and lets out an aggravated growl before screwing his eyes shut and forcing out the honorific Dabi’s been dying to hear.
“Yes, Master,” he pants, pushing a hand against Dabi’s chest. The heat on his leg fades but it’ll leave a burn, Dabi made sure of that. It’s a shame Chisaki can fix himself up so well, he’d love to leave something more lasting. “Ow, fuck that hurt.”
Dabi clicks his tongue and releases Chisaki from his grip. “Language. Now turn around would ‘ya? I wanna see you properly.”
The smaller man rolls his eyes and takes a step back, careful of his footing in the shoes he’s wearing. “You want to see my ass, you mean.”
A greedy smile rises on Dabi’s lips. “Ya caught me. Now shut up and gimme a twirl.”
Chisaki looks like he’d rather shove a hot poker down his throat but he sighs and resigns - he’s known Dabi long enough at this stage to know arguing with him is a fool’s errand. He rocks his weight onto the ball of one foot and turns so he’s facing the opposite direction. The movement causes the dress to flutter and ride up his thighs a touch, revealing a slither of the delicate lingerie beneath. Dabi’s mouth waters at the sight and he has to restrain himself from just shoving Chisaki over the sofa and fucking his brains into pulp.
“Turn around,” he orders, stomach twisting delightfully when Chisaki follows direction without complaint. Well fuck, isn’t this a pleasant change. Dabi grins and wonders how far he can push this. In the vilest, loudest manner possible, he hacks up a wad of saliva and spits it onto the floor. He laughs at the distraught expression on Chisaki’s face and moves back a couple of steps, until he can drop back down onto the sofa and sit with his legs splayed in the sleaziest manner he can. When he’s comfortable he gestures to the bucket and cloth he set out next to the sofa when Chisaki went to change.
“I know how much you love cleaning so I thought I’d treat you, babe. Wipe it up. Hands and knees. Make sure I can see your ass.”
“I hate you, you know that?” Chisaki hisses, crossing the room to pick up the cleaning items. His lips purse in annoyance and Dabi can’t help but wish he’d insisted the man wear lipstick. That nasty little pout would look so pretty rouged. Regardless of the insults, Chisaki drops to his knees and wrings out the cloth before settling it onto the floor near the splatter of saliva. “This is so vile. Why do you even want me to do this?”
Dabi bites down on his bottom lip and lifts his foot so he can nudge it under the hem of the dress. He pushes his toe against Chisaki’s ass and shoves him forward so his face goes closer to the floor and his backside is higher in the air. Goddamn, the view is gorgeous. The man has no right looking so good in such an embarrassing getup.
“Because I think you look sexy as fuck trussed up like that,” Dabi replies, licking the corner of his mouth. When Chisaki glances back over his shoulder, his face is as red as a postbox. It’s cute. “You’ve got a pretty face y’know? Pretty like a girl. Especially when you’re blushing like that.”
Chisaki scowls and whips his head back the other way, stubbornly refusing to face the man leering over him. “Go fuck yourself, Master.”
The remarks earns a wheezy laugh from Dabi, then he sits upright and peers over Chisaki’s back. “You done mopping up there, beautiful?”
“Uh uh uh. Yes what?”
The sound of teeth grinding fills the room. "Master.”
Dabi grins and leans forward off the sofa to grab ahold of Chisaki’s hips and drag him across the floor. Gasping in surprise, Chisaki tenses as he’s manhandled backward, so his hips are raised and his legs splayed around Dabi’s lap on the couch and his torso is suspended over the ground. He quickly catches himself with one hand before his face hits the hardwood, while the other wraps around Dabi’s calf for support.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Chisaki fumes, digging his fingers into the fabric of Dabi’s jeans. He wriggles uncomfortably as Dabi stares appreciatively down at his ass, now on view thanks to the way his legs are spread over his lap. The plan had been to let Chisaki feel embarrassed for as long as possible, maybe make him dust around the room while Dabi watched, or polish his shoes, but damn he really wasn’t expecting the man to look so attractive in the frilly uniform. Now he can hardly be bothered with the act, all his wants is to get his face in the guy’s ass.
He snaps back to attention and peers down at Chisaki’s face, meeting narrowed eyes as they peer awkwardly over his shoulder. Slowly Dabi moves his hands to the delicate lace covering Chisaki’s ass.
“I hope you didn’t wanna keep these,” he mutters, heating his hand to burn through the thin material and rip them off his hips. The suspender belt stays in place, straps still taut and connected to the stockings. Dabi groans as the sight and spreads his ass to get a more intimate look at him before dipping his head to bite softly at the skin of one of his cheeks. “Fuck me, you look so good. I’d totally hire you as a maid.”
“Like you could afford a maid.”
Chisaki huffs and smacks the edge of his hand against Dabi’s leg. He’s about the reply when suddenly he’s hoisted even higher and his legs are thrown over Dabi’s shoulders. A barrage of enraged curses fall from his lips but Dabi barely bothers to listen. Somehow Chisaki manages to quickly grab ahold on the larger man’s thighs and drops to place his elbows flat along them. When he seems more settled and the cursing has gotten quieter, Dabi wets his lips and starts placing soft kisses to the ass in front of his face.
“‘M gonna make you come around my tongue, pretty boy,” Dabi groans, pausing to lick a stripe from Chisaki’s balls to his hole. The filthy little gasp he gets in response is music to his ears. “Then ‘m gonna fuck you over your desk, kay? God, you look so fucking edible.”
Chisaki laughs breathily, though there is still an undercurrent of unpleasantness to the sound. “So shut up and eat me, Master.”
Dabi bites his lip and grins, unseen by Chisaki. He really should cheat at poker more often.