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Everyone read manga as a kid, pretty much. Reading some as a teen or young adult wasn’t that weird... it’s not like he was an /otaku/ or anything. Denki didn’t dedicate his whole living space to stacks of games and dvds or even light novels, and he didn’t have any suspicious posters up either. The figurines crowded on his bookshelf, well, they were a collection. Some of them were pretty rare blindbox figures, not that he felt like TELLING people that.

The first one he got was Chii from Chobits, and he’d bought it more or less on a whim, just because he’d read the series and was feeling nostalgic, but she looked kinda weird just sitting there alone between Ultraman and King Ghidorah. So then when he saw some Rozen Maiden chibi toys in a gashapon machine, he’d gone ahead and gotten some of those, too, even though he’d never seen the series. He just thought the one girl in the green dress, with the different colored eyes, was cute, perpetually curtsying with her watering can on his shelf. After that, he’d found an ecchi figurine of a maid girl, her skirt blowing up in the back to show a flash of pink frilly panties. He didn’t even know if she was a character from anything in particular, but the plastic lace called to him, so she joined Chii and Suiseiseki and made the collection like, a /real thing/.

After that, whenever he saw something with a maid in it, he had to give it a look. He didn’t really want to admit it was a /fetish/. Didn’t everyone think girls in maid outfits were cute? Wasn’t that the whole point? Maid cafes built their entire business model around that sole incontrovertible fact! He wasn’t weird for liking it. He was maybe a little weird for standing across the street from a maid cafe not far from his train station, watching the maids pass out flyers. He’d never actually /gone/ to a maid cafe, though. Something in him said those weren’t /maids/, they were /waitresses/, and that there was a difference. The work he’d done on I-Island didn’t make him a /butler/ after all. True, he’d suggested a maid cafe for the school festival in first year, but that was really just an excuse. And, it was also true that some of his figurines weren’t technically maids either, but they were just plastic toys, anyway. Maybe he was being needlessly picky when it came to /real live girls/ in maid uniforms, but, even if the girls working at the cafe were /very/ cute, they didn’t quite fulfill his fantasy.

He tried to imagine himself as a wealthy lord, conducting an illicit affair with one of his sweet-faced maids. She’d fall for his charm and good looks, and he’d be driven wild by the swish of her skirt and the flutter of frills. She’d let him flip her dress up in the back, bent over a wash stand. Sometimes he pictured a pair of crisp white bloomers, covering her demurely to the knee. Other times he’d imagine he’d find her bare but for her flimsy stockings and garter belt, his naughty maid waiting for his lusty attentions.

Okay, so it was a fetish. And maybe it was a little at odds with the cool rockstar image he wanted to project. But... there was something about a wide lacy headband that was so alluring to him, he just couldn’t stop.

Pretty soon he’d seen just about every mainstream maid anime. He’d seen all the EGL and idol anime with maid /outfits/, too. He had to branch out to keep getting fresh content, and started reading manga scans on dodgy sites just to get his fix.

That’s how he’d found his current series. At first, it seemed to be about a maid who’d gone to work for a wealthy but eccentric doctor who was allergic to girls, and who vowed to marry her when he discovered that touching her didn’t make him break out in hives. But, there was some other guy in the mix... who was either a Shinto monk, or had some kind of psychic quirk, maybe. Confused, Denki clicked around the buggy site, only to realize he’d started reading the chapters out of order. Starting with the first volume, it VERY quickly became clear that the maid was actually a boy in drag, and that the whole series was PRETTY SOLIDLY BL.

It wasn’t what he’d set out to find, but by then he was invested. And... it put the image in his mind, of being the one in the maid costume. After that, it was really a downward spiral from there to thinking about being desired by a more powerful ‘master’, having his frilly skirt flipped up and his ass fucked in his OWN stockings and garter belt. Pretty soon thinking about that was basically the only thing that got him off, and he realized with each passing day how badly he wanted a pretty, flouncy maid costume of his very own.

There were plenty of cheap ones, online and in shops that catered to the /real/ otaku crowd. But what he really wanted was something /soft/. /Quality/. Something that really made him feel like he was the loyal maid of a man who could afford the best. It took a lot of saving up, and not just a little courage, but eventually, he managed to make his way to Harajuku, where there were lots of stores selling exactly the kind of thing he wanted. Angelic Pretty, BtSSB, Mary Magdalene, Innocent World... he’d browsed their sites but he wanted to feel the fabric, see the cleanly pressed aprons and their cotton eyelet lace. He’d psyched himself up for months, planning this excursion.

He did not expect to see Shinsou Hitoshi manning the counter in a Lolita fashion boutique.

Shinsou looked... well, bored, to start with. But his dark circles and wild hair were complemented by the visual kei look he was sporting. It /definitely/ stood out from the sea of pastels in the shop, though Denki easily recognized his boots as Alice and the Pirates.

“Hi, welcome— Kaminari?” Shinsou looked as shocked to see Denki as Denki himself felt. Denki swallowed. He /couldn’t/ seriously shop for his very own maid coord with his classmate staring at him. Even if they wouldn’t see each other for the rest of the summer, it would definitely come up when they started school again in August. But he couldn’t turn tail and run either. He’d be expected to stop and chat a minute.

“Oh, ‘sup, Shinsou! What’s the good word?” He tried on his most innocent smile.

“Nothing. Just working. It’s slow as hell,” Shinsou complained, gesturing at the empty store. “I guess this kind of shop isn’t on a lot of people’s back-to-school lists.”

“Oh. Uh, I guess not. How long have you worked here?” Denki wanted to peruse the merchandise. There was a gorgeous outfit on a mannequin just behind Shinsou, with a sweetheart neckline, capped sleeves, a toile rosebuds motif, and a classic apron with satin ribbons that Denki was DYING to inspect close-up, but then Shinsou would probably ask who he was shopping for.

“Just the summer. A friend of my mom’s got me the job so I can’t really complain.”

Honestly it was amazing he hadn’t asked Denki anything yet. Did they get a lot of male customers?

“Although it kinda blows working on my birthday,” Shinsou went on, and Denki straightened up.

“It’s your birthday? Mine was just two days ago!” In fact, part of the reason he’d decided to finally take this shopping trip was that he’d gotten enough birthday money together that he might actually be able to afford /brand/.

“Oh, happy belated,” Shinsou replied easily, hands in the deep pockets of his street ninja trousers.

“Happy birthday to you too!” Denki replied, totally sidetracked from his maid-related goals. “Do you have any fun plans after you get off work?”

“Nah. Most people are on vacation now, before school starts. It’s no big deal though. Aizawa-sensei sent me a card, so that was nice.” A lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and Denki’s heart broke a little. “What about you? What’d you do for your birthday?”

Denki rubbed his neck. “Uh, I didn’t really do anything. I asked everyone to just give me money this year so I could—” He cut himself off. “Ehm. Go shopping,” he finished lamely.

Shinsou snorted. “What, here?” He pulled a hanger at random, and Denki’s eyes drank in the powder blue jumper dress with corset lacing in the front and tiered half-skirts on either side, a subtle dot pattern adding visual interest to the fabric. “Thinking about changing your look?”

It was obvious Shinsou was joking, but Denki furrowed his brows and chewed his lip.

“Maybe so,” he snipped. “What, you don’t think robin’s egg is my color?”

Shinsou considered the dress in his hands. “It’s almost the same color as the eyepiece thing you wear with your hero costume,” he observed.

“Yeah I guess,” Denki answered, but he was distracted. While Shinsou had been looking the jumper dress over, Denki had noticed a classic loli coord, olive green with cuffed bishop sleeves, a white Peter Pan collar, a full bib apron with pleated ruffles all the way down the straps, and a large black bow at the neck. His heart thudded and he found himself drifting over to look at it.

Shinsou replaced the blue jumper on the rack, and moved to stand next to Denki.

“This one’s pretty nice, but we only have the small left in store, and this design seems to run really tight in the chest,” he warned.

“That’s fine, I’m pretty flat-chested,” Denki murmured, hardly paying attention to his words in favor of admiring the tiny pearl buttons cuffing the sleeves.

There was a pause in which Denki’s brain caught up with his mouth, and he slowly turned to face Shinsou, horrified. Shinsou’s eyebrows were slightly raised, but he showed no other outward signs of surprise.

“Bit expensive for a gag outfit,” Shinsou commented lightly, goading Denki to admit the truth. He always was so good at getting people to talk.

“It’s not for a gag,” Denki confessed quietly. “It’s for me.”

“Hmm,” Shinsou answered, philosophically. “And what exactly are you looking for? Is this for an event?”

Denki shrugged. “It’s. I uh. Well I don’t actually expect anyone will ever see me in it. I just. Think they’re cute, is all.” His face was burning as a parade of lurid images went riot through his mind.

“Lolita dresses?” Shinsou asked.

Denki grimaced. “Well. Yeah. But specifically I like the maid-inspired ones. Aprons and collars with bows, lacy snoods, all that stuff.” Why on God’s green earth was he telling Shinsou all this? If he felt like it, Shinsou could blackmail him into the next millennium with this intel.

“Huh.”

That was /all/ Shinsou had to say?! Denki boggled at him.

“Do you do your hair and makeup too? Wear the rocking horse shoes and the knee socks?” Shinsou asked, waving his hand at the glass counter full of socks and stockings, the stacked display of shoes.

“Uh, well. This is technically my first time actually shopping for something like this for myself. Like you said, this stuff does not come cheap,” Denki explained. Shinsou nodded, eyes moving slowly around the store.

“Why maid stuff?” Shinsou asked, bluntly. “I mean I could pull some stuff and put it in the dressing room for you, but you should probably give me a better idea of the kinds of cuts and designs you like.”

Denki couldn’t figure out what to do with his face for a moment. Maybe... maybe Shinsou could actually help him out. He really should browse more shops, but with Shinsou standing there expectantly, he couldn’t really think of much besides how to take several years of nursing a very specific fetish and condense that into an explanation appropriate for polite conversation.

“At first I liked the idea of a cute girl wearing something like this. Being my maid, you know, falling in love with the master of the house, that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m not living like Yamomo, but it’s nice to fantasize about having that kind of life. Even though she thinks Harrods is a type of tea and not just the department store her loaded parents order from.”

Shinsou snorted a laugh and Denki felt a little bad for talking about his kind-hearted classmate that way, especially after she’d helped him study so many times. It was just, he’d learned a lot through his very specific interest in maids and the culture surrounding them. He forged ahead.

“And uh. Eventually I came around to the idea of wearing the maid outfit myself, you know? Playing that role for somebody.” He fidgeted. This was probably his deepest darkest secret, and here he was, just laying it all out there for his classmate in broad daylight.

“Would /you/ fall in love with the master of the house?” Shinsou paused. “Or mistress, I guess.”

“Either one works for me,” Denki said, and, shockingly, Shinsou had absolutely no reaction to that, either. “But that’s, yeah, that’s the gist of the fantasy I guess.”

“Hmm,” Shinsou replied again, tapping his cheek. “Is it more about the aesthetic of the skirt and apron, or do you actually imagine doing the service part of it, too? Cleaning, cooking, presenting tea, all that stuff?”

Denki almost considered not answering. The air felt heavy in the same way it did when Shinsou was about to use his quirk. He met Shinsou’s eyes and found them as dark and galactic as always, a strange smile haunting his face.

“It’s both,” he said, trusting Shinsou not to take advantage of this moment, this bizarre atmosphere in which Denki freely spilled out the contents of his soul onto the polished floor. “The service aspect is... definitely part of the appeal.”

Shinsou’s grin broadened, and it. Well. It made him even more handsome. That look in his eyes seemed to cut right through Denki, and involuntarily, he shivered, goosebumps rising on his arms.

“That’s interesting, Kaminari,” he murmured, drawing his eyes back over to the green dress they’d been discussing before. “See, this is cute, but it wouldn’t be practical for a dessert service, or polishing the silver, or anything like that. These draped sleeves would just drag through everything, and you wouldn’t want to be pulling your cuffs back all day like a geisha at tea ceremony.”

Denki’s mouth went dry. His eyes went big. His heart launched into his throat as if catapulted.

The way Shinsou was /talking/, like he... like he /cared/ about the details of the fantasy, had Denki swallowing thickly.

“You’re probably right,” he agreed, giving in, allowing himself to be beckoned to another rack across the store. He felt like he was floating. Shinsou was /guiding/ him. /Commanding/ him. He was seconds away from calling Shinsou ‘sir’. God he was pathetic.

“Something like this would be far more appropriate,” Shinsou stated, pushing hangers aside to point out an elegantly simple dress in charcoal grey, with a scooped neck over a cream colored blouse. The puffed sleeves were embellished by pewter buttons, and the same climbed up the center line of the blouse to the neat bib collar. The hem had one understated tier of ruffles, the neck of the dress was edged with black bobbin lace, and a small black ribbon finished the look at the throat. It was a fine dress, and he could even imagine wearing it, but still Denki frowned.

“It doesn’t have an apron though,” he noted with dissatisfaction.

“You can get one as a separate piece,” Shinsou reminded him, plucking another hanger from farther down the rack to show Denki a ruffled half apron.

“Oh,” Denki sighed, his hands going for the garment without thinking. It was lightweight, the ruffles stitched /just so/ to make it flutter with the slightest movement. He could imagine wearing /that/, definitely.

“You like that one,” Shinsou observed quietly. “I can put it in the dressing room for you.”

Dumbly, Denki nodded, eyes following the pristine fabric as Shinsou carried the garment across the store to the lone changing room and hung it up. Denki lifted the hanger for the dress Shinsou had picked, too, and Shinsou dutifully added that to the hook in the dressing room.

“What else do you think would look good on me?” Denki asked, his voice smaller than he anticipated. Shinsou looked him up and down, and it wasn’t a casual look at all. Something was happening, something charged and full of tense potential beginning to stretch out between them. Denki licked his lips, and allowed himself to be looked at.

“If you were /my/ maid?” Shinsou mused, tapping his cheek again, while Denki had a minor heart attack, “let me think.” All at once he turned his back on Denki to rifle through another rack. “Perhaps it’s flouting convention, but I’d be tempted to put you in a babydoll like this one.” The dress he pulled was dark blue with a moons and stars motif, empire waisted and sleeveless, with a long Puritan collar and a large bow at the neck, complete with a gem decorating the knot. When he held it up, Denki could see that the dress was quite a bit shorter than any of the others he’d looked at so far, falling several inches above the knee. It was cute, but it felt like dressy lingerie. Not like a proper uniform. “Hm, no, I can see from your face you’re not overly enthused,” Shinsou observed. “Shame, imagine the picture you’d make with a scant inch of skin showing between the hem of the dress and the top of your knee high socks.”

Denki’s pulse pounded in his ears. He was flattered. He was vaguely aroused. But he wasn’t convinced a babydoll was appropriate maid attire. He shook his head.

“Of course you know,” Shinsou drawled, still holding the little dress, “If your master told you to, you’d have to wear this.”

Denki swallowed again, blinked a few times to try and clear his head. It was obvious he wasn’t successful because what he said next was, “If you put me under your quirk and told me to, I’d have to wear it, too.”

Shinsou sucked in a breath, a sharp sound. His hand shook a bit as he replaced the babydoll on the rack. “That’s true,” he said quietly.

The idea had gotten its teeth into Denki and wouldn’t let him go. Shinsou, his lord and master, using his quirk to ensure his wayward maid didn’t misbehave. Instructing him to do this or that, walk with perfect posture, curtsy nicer, maybe... maybe something less chaste, even.

“What about this one... Kaminari?”

Denki had to shake himself from his thoughts. He blinked at the new dress. Black overdress with an asymmetric gather on the left side, accented by ruffles and an understated bow, overtop of an off-white underdress with two rows of pleated ruffles at the hem. The black overdress had a square neckline and puffed sleeves, and the underdress a ruffled collar and several vertical rows of eyelet lace, the bias cut of the overdress would probably make an apron look silly, but he nodded anyway, purely because Shinsou had picked it. They went around the store like this, and Shinsou even added a few accessories: thigh high stockings, a few hats and headbands, and even a pair of chunky black Mary Janes, astonishingly in Denki’s size. He had quite the collection going in the dressing room by the time they’d made a circuit of the shop.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Shinsou urged, prompting Denki to scurry into the changing room and pull the curtain sharply closed. He had to take a few deep breaths before beginning to strip off his clothing. Was Shinsou... enjoying this? Denki certainly hoped so. It was /quite/ a way to spend one’s birthday, watching a classmate crossdress in cutesy Lolita attire. Denki gulped again, and sat on the small chair to begin rolling the thigh highs up his legs.

He could hear Shinsou bustling around the shop beyond the curtain. Which dress would he try first? After a moment’s thought, he selected the dress with the asymmetric cut, the one he was least sure about. He unzipped it slowly, back to the mirror, and carefully pulled it up his legs, slipped his arms into the sleeves, and zipped it back up again. He stepped into the Mary Janes and at last, turned to face the mirror.

He looked... /cute/. Shinsou had loaned him a petticoat to wear underneath, and he pulled it up his, legs under the bell-shaped skirt of the dress. He looked /really cute/. With his shoes buckled and a ribbon in his hair, he pushed the curtain open. Shinsou immediately stopped what he was doing to look.

They stared at each other in silence. Denki’s heart beat double time in his chest and he affected a shallow curtsy.

“What do you think... Master?”

Shinsou let out a low grunt, his eyes half-lidded, and took an aborted step towards him.

“Oh,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes seemingly stuck on Denki’s legs at the hem of the skirt. “I see. No that would never work with an apron. Let’s see another.”

Denki shut the curtain again excitedly. He didn’t know where this was going, exactly, but he’d liked it so far. He chose another dress almost at random, and tied the half apron overtop of it. He changed the hair ribbon out for a wide lace headband, and pushed the curtain open again.

Shinsou did approach him that time. “Stand up straight and let me look at you,” he quipped, settling almost naturally into his role as lord of an estate. “Give us a turn.”

Denki did, a little awkward in the platform shoes. Shinsou didn’t seem to mind. He watched Denki do a slow pirouette, with rapt attention.

“What a sweet little maid you are,” he whispered, and Denki nearly choked on a gasp. “Do you come highly recommended? Or is this your first commission in the service of a well-to-do gentleman? Do you think you’ll need...” He bent close, so Denki could feel his breath on his ear as he said, “strict instruction?”

Denki wanted to cry. His knees were shaking in his stockings and if this went on he might ruin the lines of the dress by getting hard underneath it.

“I... it’s my first time. But I do want to do a good job. Sir.” His pulse was rabbiting in his chest and he clasped his hands to his arms, behind his back, correcting his posture and forcing himself not to fidget. Shinsou offered him an indulgent smile.

“Well if you’re going to work for me, you’ll have to look the part. Here, try this one on instead.” He lifted the charcoal dress from the hook, and Denki looked appreciatively at it again.

“Yes sir,” he cooed, reaching blindly for the curtain, not taking his eyes off the dress. Shinsou caught his wrist.

“Now now,” Shinsou murmured darkly, “there’s no need to be shy. Let me help you into the uniform.”

Denki flushed hot all over. He could pretend to be overly modest. Was that the character he was playing? Would his maid persona push his master away and insist upon absolute propriety? Shinsou’s hand was cool and sure around his small wrist. He nodded, jerkily.

“Of course sir. Thank you,” he answered, carefully turning so his back was to Shinsou. “Could you get my zipper, please? Master?”

Shinsou released his wrist, stroked gentle fingers up Denki’s back, raising the hairs on the nape of his neck. He found the teardrop zipper pull, and slowly inched it down, revealing Denki’s bare back. “My my,” Shinsou commented, mostly to himself. “Any young lord would be lucky to have you.” His fingers skated over Denki’s skin, as if by accident, but Denki felt supercharged, the lightest touches sending him into overdrive. Shinsou pulled loose the bow holding the apron on, and draped the garment over his arm as he waited.

“Thank you,” Denki replied again, letting the dress fall from his shoulders, pushing it off of his hips with as much finesse as he could muster.

“Don’t be messy and leave that lying on the ground,” Shinsou urged. “Pick up your things.”

With shaking hands, Denki lifted the dress from the floor, stepping carefully out of the way so he could hang it up nicely. He felt... extremely exposed in just his black boxer briefs, his usual choker, knee high stockings, and Mary Janes. He hazarded a glance at Shinsou, whose eyes were laser-focused on his body. Denki felt his nipples harden, and sucked in a breath. He hoped they wouldn’t be visible through the dress.

True to his word, Shinsou helped him into the charcoal dress, unzipping it for him, holding it for Denki to step into, lifting the sleeves for him, zipping it up his back, and tying the apron snugly around his waist.

Denki shivered with the tying of that smart bow at the small of his back.

“Let’s do something else with your hair,” Shinsou suggested. “You looked a bit like a vocaloid before, with the ribbon.”

Denki laughed quietly. He could see the resemblance. He could probably do a pretty fair Kagamine Len (or Rin) cosplay. But that wasn’t where his interests lay.

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” he said instead, trying to get back into character. It wasn’t hard, staring at his reflection in the dressing room mirror.

“Hmm,” Shinsou said in his ineffable way, combing his fingers through Denki’s hair. Denki melted into the attention. The thought of being groomed to perfection, dressed /specifically/ for his master, had him nearly swooning, but also, he could see Shinsou’s face in the mirror. Serious, concentrated, watching the blonde strands slip between his fingers, he separated two chunks of hair at the front, like long bangs, and began smoothing the rest into a small ponytail. His hair was getting a little on the long side, but maybe that was okay, if it let Shinsou style it how he liked. His hands were sure, his fingers long, the tendons attractively defined. Masculine hands. The type that could easily take a misbehaving maid over his knee for a spanking. Denki shuddered, his eyelids fluttering at the thought. He liked being Shinsou’s maid.

Shinsou pulled the hair tie from around his own wrist, and carefully looped it around Denki’s ponytail. The white lace snood he plucked up from the small dressing table was then stretched around the hair, long black ribbons trailing from the bottom of it and tickling Denki’s bare neck. Denki inspected his reflection. It was amazing what a difference a simple change of hairstyle made. He felt delicate, cared for, and pristine, and smiled cautiously at himself in the mirror.

“Perfect,” Shinsou said, and Denki’s smile grew.

“This is the one, Master?” Denki asked, pulling at the hem of the skirt to show it off.

“Yes, I think so,” Shinsou replied. Denki almost wished Shinsou was wearing a nice tailored suit, or a coat and tails, to really drive the fantasy home... but he couldn’t deny that the visual kei look suited him. It showed off his height, his trim hips, and the wiry muscles in his arms. Denki chewed his lip. “Now that you’re properly dressed, I think it’s time to test your skills,” Shinsou went on, and Denki’s eyes widened. What would that entail?

“Yes sir, I’m, um, very eager to prove my worth to you,” he stuttered, mind going wild with possibilities.

“Wait there,” Shinsou instructed, and Denki did, bowing his head to wait for his master’s return. He heard clattering, and peeked up to see Shinsou flipping the OPEN sign on the door over to closed, and then coming around to an ornate table decorated with a lace cloth and an assortment of doilies. He lifted a rack of rings and other small accessories off of the table and set it on the counter instead, and then took the chair from the dressing room and set it at the table. Denki watched curiously as Shinsou moved behind the counter and disappeared from view. It sounded, however, like he was opening and closing a mini fridge. “Here we are,” Shinsou said, and Denki watched him carry over a small cake topped with glazed berries, a single candle stuck in the center. “My mom’s friend who owns the shop left this in here for my birthday. Sweet of her.” He set it in the center of the table, and went behind the counter again to put an electric kettle on to boil.

“Um, sir, don’t you think I should do all of that?” Denki asked, feeling useless while Shinsou carried to the table a silver tray containing a china tea set.

“You don’t know where any of this stuff is kept. Don’t worry, I know it’s your first day of maid service.” He set the tray down with a clink. “I trust you know how to make tea?” He popped the lid on a tin of loose leaf, and brought it over for Denki to smell. “The shop does lolita tea parties once a month, so we have al this stuff on hand anyway,” he explained. “What do you think of this tea?”

Denki sniffed it. “Notes of cocoa and blueberry. Black tea, tippy hmmm... I don’t know, Assam, probably.”

“Very good. I’m impressed. It’s an Assam blend, but your guess was very keen,” Shinsou praised. Denki felt like he was glowing, and had to check to make sure he hadn’t accidentally allowed his quirk to spark to life. “And how would you prepare it.”

“Ah, well,” he thought about it. “Ideally I’d warm the cups first, and then... steep three minutes? It’s a fruit tea, so it could be had without milk or cream. My preference is milk with any black tea, though. Erm. How do you take it, sir?” He hoped he hadn’t messed up by talking about his own preferences before asking Shinsou for his.

“This tea?” Shinsou replied, without chastisement, “black, with one brown sugar cube.”

Denki nodded, committing that to memory. The kettle made a small ‘ding’ to indicate it was done heating, and Denki perked up.

“Allow me, sir,” he said, feeling light as a feather with his petticoat and apron flouncing. He picked up the teapot on his way to the counter, and filled the basket with the loose leaf. It almost smelled like blueberry jam, tart and sweet at once, but when he began pouring the hot water over the leaves, the smokiness of the Assam came through, like warm toast. It would be perfect with Shinsou’s berry chiffon cake.

He smiled to himself as he watched the clock, steeping for the appropriate amount of time, careful not to spill a drop on his dress. When three minutes were up, he removed the leaves, and carried the teapot back to the table slowly, watching his feet.

Shinsou seated himself, and leaned back in the chair, eyes moving between Denki and his napkin. A ball of warmth settled in Denki’s belly as he lifted the napkin and opened it with a flourish, then bent over Shinsou’s lap to smooth it there. He could feel Shinsou’s heat through his trousers, and straightened back up quickly before he got distracted. He arranged the service as neatly as possible before Shinsou, trying not to let the cup clatter against the saucer. It wasn’t like he’d practiced this, but he’d thought about it quite a bit. He hoped he was doing it right, or, at least, well enough that Shinsou liked what he saw.

On a whim he reached out his index finger and allowed electricity to spark from it, just enough to light the lone candle in the middle of the cake. He stood back once the flame burned steadily.

“Happy birthday, Master,” he said, caught by the way the candlelight played on Shinsou’s handsome face, the way it danced in his eyes. “Um, why don’t you make a wish?”

Shinsou met his gaze for a long moment, but said nothing. When he blinked and looked away, he leaned forward, and blew out the candle. Denki badly wanted to know what he’d wished for, but knew if he asked, then it wouldn’t come true, and he had a suspicion he’d miss whatever it was if it didn’t.

Trying not to think too much about that, he busied himself with the tea. Balancing the spout on two outstretched fingers, Denki poured the tea, and brought over the sugar bowl. He used the tongs to select one cube of brown sugar, and dropped it in to dissolve. That was the easy part done. The hard part would be serving the cake. Even with a cake cutter, he didn’t think he’d ever managed to serve a slice from a round cake neatly. He puzzled at the flatware. Shinsou watched him expectantly. Finally Denki lifted the gold dinner knife, appreciating the rosettes engraved in the handle, and made two clean cuts, between the largest strawberries. Could he balance the slice on the knife and tip it onto the dessert plate? He could only try.

Carefully he wedged the knife under the sponge, trying not to completely destroy the piped design at the base of the cake, and attempted to slide the piece away from the rest of the cake.

The piece didn’t budge.

Shinsou was waiting for his birthday cake, and Denki was /ruining it/.

He struggled harder, tried to leverage the piece out, but the filling was thick and the piece began to wobble. He could almost /sense/ Shinsou laughing behind him. Dammit, he just wanted to be a good maid!

He put more effort into lifting the piece, and it finally cleared the rest of the cake, but it was too tall. It couldn’t balance on the knife. The glazed berries began to slump. There was nothing he could do. To save his dress and the tablecloth, he had to catch the cake with his free hand. It was /not/ elegant, transferring a slice of cake from his hand to a dessert plate. He felt utterly defeated, and he chanced a look at Shinsou, expecting disappointment. Maybe even disgust that Denki had touched his food with his /bare hands/.

Shinsou looked nothing but amused.

“Look at all that frosting on your hands,” he commented airily. “Here, let’s have a taste.” He let his mouth drop open, and Denki assumed that could only mean one thing. Slowly, Denki brought his hand closer to Shinsou’s face, until his index and middle finger bumped Shinsou’s lower lip. Immediately, Shinsou’s tongue swept out, warm and wet, lapping the frosting from his fingers, sliding down, sucking them into his mouth. He locked eyes with Denki when Denki’s fingertips hit the back of his throat, and Denki forgot to breathe. Shinsou caught his wrist, moved his hand so he could lick teasing patterns over Denki’s palm, cleaning it of crumbs and fruit filling and frosting. Denki could hardly blink. He was utterly frozen under the weight of Shinsou’s stare, and he’d never felt so /owned/ in his life.

“Hmmm,” Shinsou hummed, when he’d licked all he could from Denki’s hand. “Pretty good, but I think I’m ready for some cake.” He didn’t pick up his fork. Denki didn’t want to ask, and break character. He nipped a little of the sponge cake between his thumb and forefinger, and raised it gently to Shinsou’s lips.

“Here you go, Master,” he whispered, anticipating the moment when Shinsou’s mouth would open, and he’d take the tiny bite of cake from between Denki’s fingers. When Shinsou’s lips parted, Denki’s did too, mouth open in a small ‘o’ as Shinsou’s teeth gently scraped his fingertips. He felt fevered, watching Shinsou’s lips curl around his index finger to catch any stray crumbs. “Would Master care for a berry now?” he asked, and Shinsou nodded, letting his tongue poke out of his mouth. Denki felt weak at the sight of it. Would Shinsou want to kiss him later? Maybe he’d ask for more than just kisses. He picked up a glazed strawberry by its leaves, and pressed the pointed tip against Shinsou’s tongue, then bit his lip when Shinsou wrapped his lips around the berry to suck the glaze from its flesh. He nibbled a bit off the end of the strawberry, and Denki imagined kissing the fruit from his tongue.

“M-master,” he forced out, barely blinking. “Um, your tea will get cold,” he stated, mostly because he was half hard in his underwear and needed something to take his mind off of the sight of Shinsou’s lips stained red with juice.

“Right you are,” Shinsou replied evenly. Denki stood back so Shinsou could reach for his cup, and took a moment to simply appreciate Shinsou’s elegant fingers on the handle of the teacup, the click of his throat as he swallowed. He really was very handsome. Denki had thought so from the beginning, but every now and then he’d get a chance to look at him like this, and it reminded him all over again, that Shinsou really was very, very handsome.

“Something on your mind, Denki?” Shinsou asked, over the rim of his cup.

/Denki/. He never thought he’d swoon over the sound of his own name, but there it was.

“Nothing at all,” Denki answered, dazed, and Shinsou laughed. It took a moment for Denki to realize how /airheaded/ that had sounded, but /really/. What did Shinsou expect? He straightened up, tried his best to at least look the part of a prim and proper maid, even if Shinsou already knew what a /disaster/ he was underneath the elegant dress.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Shinsou said, “about me using my quirk on you.”

Denki stared at him, heart hammering.

“To be honest with you, I’m... well. I might be enjoying giving you orders and having you obey them. I might be enjoying it a little too much. If I put you under my quirk, I’d probably still enjoy it, but you’d barely remember it. You’d have no way of telling me no. And... that’s probably wrong,” he concluded, offering Denki a wan smile.

Denki’s tongue felt too big in his mouth. He chose his words carefully. “I’m... not sure I mind. Can I tell you something, maybe a little TMI?”

Shinsou set his cup back in its saucer with a soft clink. “Alright,” he agreed.

“Well, I have this fantasy where I’m living and working in a large manor house, and there’s a storm, and the power goes out, so I use my quirk to restore the power, but I overdo it, and get jammed, and then uh, the lord of the estate finds me, um, you know how I get. He finds me like that, and uh. Fucks me like a dumb bimbo.” He mumbled the last bit, face turned away from Shinsou, but he was pretty sure Shinsou heard it anyway because he uttered a low whistle and leaned back in his chair. “So uh. Yeah. Letting you have complete control. It’s... well, let’s just say this wouldn’t be the first time I’d thought about it.” He smoothed his apron. “You’re like. The /perfect/ lord and master. You fell right into the role, no coaching, no coaxing. Knew just how to put me in your service. Your commanding voice... it’s like you were made for this.”

Denki was blushing. He knew he was. Surprisingly, Shinsou was, too. Just a faint bit of color, high on his pale cheeks.

“I don’t know if it’s because of my quirk or if it’s just... what I’m like,” Shinsou admitted. “I like being obeyed though. I like how you’ve been trying so hard to do a good job. Trying hard to. You know. Please me.”

Denki sucked in a steadying breath. “I’d get down on my knees right here if I wasn’t afraid of getting my stockings dusty,” he murmured.

Shinsou cut his eyes across the table at him. “You’re really fuckin’ cute in that outfit, you know,” he stated.

Denki /felt/ cute. He thought he probably was, objectively. But, to have Shinsou say so, so bluntly, was another thing entirely.

“Answer your master when he speaks to you,” Shinsou commanded, slipping back into the role easily. Fresh goosebumps rose on Denki’s arms.

“Thank you sir!” he yelped, before ducking into a curtsy. “I... I hope it pleases you,” he said, losing himself again to the fantasy. Shinsou huffed a quiet laugh, and picked up his delicate fork.

“It does. Very much so. I think, however,” he took a bite of cake, “I should still like to see you without it, though.”

“Ohh,” Denki sighed, enraptured. “Of course, sir. Whatever you desire.”

Shinsou stood to close the window curtains at the front of the shop, and pull a shutter down over the door. “I can’t have anyone else ogling what’s mine,” he rumbled, and Denki felt like he could power a whole city block for a week.

“No, sir,” he breathed, reaching clumsily for the zipper at his back.

“Here, I’ll help,” Shinsou offered again, crossing the room. “Stay still,” he reminded Denki, and by god, Denki tried. But, it was a struggle, with Shinsou’s hands on him. He wanted to just strip everything off and prostrate himself for the other, beg him to do what he wished. He might do that still, but first, he’d let Shinsou unzip him, and untie the apron, and push the petticoat down over his hips before hanging everything back up again in the dressing room. “Hmm,” he mumbled, which Denki was taking to be a habit, “seems a shame to have you take the stockings and shoes off. They’re very fetching on you. But, if you think you’re in danger of dirtying your knees...”

Denki debated. Shinsou liked the stockings. Thought he looked good in them. His decision, therefore, was already made. “I... I can keep them clean, Master. I promise I can!” Hurrying behind the counter, he looked around in the general area where Shinsou had gotten the tea tray, and quickly found what he was looking for: a tea towel, with a motif of pink peonies and bees. He folded it lengthwise and laid it on the ground before Shinsou’s feet. He dropped to his knees eagerly, kneeling on the towel. “See? Now my stockings will stay clean,” he said. Shinsou reached for him, ran one cool fingertip over the shell of Denki’s ear.

“How industrious my little maid is,” he praised, and Denki grinned beatifically up at him. “Take off your shorts, now. And fold them nicely.”

Denki pushed his underwear down to his knees, and then had to stretch them out to get them off over his shoes, but he folded them to the side anyway, and then, didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. On his knees while Shinsou towered over him, he was already a little hard, and the longer Shinsou stared, the more his cock twitched. He couldn’t believe this was happening. On the floor of a shop during business hours! Just because Shinsou wanted him to. Just because he wanted to serve Shinsou to the best of his ability. He wished he knew what he looked like, hair still pulled back in its lace snood, on his knees in a collar, stockings, Mary Janes and nothing else.

“Maybe some other time I can have you in nothing but your apron,” Shinsou suggested, almost reading his thoughts, “but right now, you look like you’d ruin it in an instant.” He pushed the toe of his boot under Denki’s balls, lifted them a little, and Denki gasped roughly. Shinsou was fucking /right/. He was all the way hard at lightning speed, lightheaded and moaning, immediately. Shinsou clicked his tongue as if to say ‘I told you so,’ and reached for his plate of half-eaten cake. “You didn’t get to try any cake,” he commented, swiping some frosting from the top with his index finger and holding it out to Denki. “You want a little?”

Denki opened his mouth and shut his eyes, but Shinsou tutted.

“What did I say about answering me when I address you?” he chastised, and Denki shrunk in on himself.

“I’m sorry sir. Yes please, I would like some cake.”

“Very good. Now, open that pretty mouth,” Shinsou instructed, and Denki wanted to squirm with arousal. /Pretty mouth/, he’d said. Denki obeyed, and in a moment, Shinsou’s fingers were past his lips, stroking his tongue, pulling his jaw open. The frosting was sweet, with a slight lemony tang, and Denki worked to lick it all away, just as Shinsou had done to him, earlier. “I’d love to eat off of your sweet little nips,” Shinsou went on, “lick sugar out of your navel and suck honey off of your skin. Perhaps that’s not within the remit of an ordinary maid, but you aren’t ordinary, are you, Denki? You want to cater to my /every/ whim, isn’t that right? You want to serve, with every molecule of your being.”

“/Yes,/“ Denki rasped when Shinsou’s fingers pulled away, hips moving minutely to grind his balls against Shinsou’s boot. “Please, sir. Please, Master.”

Shinsou lifted his toe a little more, made it tighter and more painful for Denki to grind against. “There’s a good boy,” he teased, and Denki groaned aloud, clawing his own thighs. “You know, if you learn to always answer me when I speak to you, then you wouldn’t know when my quirk was coming. I could wipe your mind any time, make you fully and completely mine. You’d be like a sweet little doll, you know? Barely better than one of those blow up toys, except much, much prettier.”

“Uh-huh,” Denki slurred. Fuck, he was basically all the things Shinsou said already, quirk or not. “I want to be your doll,” he mumbled. “Want to be useful.”

Shinsou removed his foot and Denki whined, but Shinsou tapped him on the nose to make him quiet. When Denki opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Shinsou unbuttoning his loose trousers, and fishing his cock out of his underwear.

“Ohhh,” Denki moaned, just looking at it. He opened his mouth, but Shinsou didn’t give it to him. He rubbed the tip against Denki’s lower lip, smearing precome around, but pulled back when Denki tried to suck the head into his mouth.

“Not until I say so,” Shinsou warned. He slipped his tip against Denki’s lip again, and all Denki could do was lick up the taste of it. “I think I’d like to see you short-circuit yourself on purpose,” Shinsou mused aloud, “solely for the purpose of being fucked like a dumb bimbo. You’d be drooling all over, practically singing on my cock. Most unbecoming of a proper maid,” Shinsou teased, smacking his dick against Denki’s cheek a few times. “Here, let’s see if you can actually behave yourself, first.” He sat in the chair at the table again, and spread his legs invitingly. “I’m going to finish my slice of cake. I want you to get under the table, and hold my cock in your mouth. I don’t want you to suck it. Not yet. I want you to control yourself, understand? Just hold it on your tongue, nice and gentle, okay?”

“Fff,” Denki hissed, “Yes sir.” His own cock was dripping, and he worried a little about the tea towel as he picked it up and spread it out under the table. If he came hard enough, with all these name brand dresses all around, it could be a very expensive mess. He tucked himself snugly under the table and braced his hands behind his back. Shinsou held his own cock at the base, but let go when he felt Denki’s lips close over the head. Denki hadn’t exactly tried this before, and worried he’d gag, but just resolved to take as much as he could and hope Shinsou would understand if he couldn’t swallow him to the hilt. Soon enough, though, the tip was nestled against his soft palate and he’d taken, well, at least most of it. Shinsou’s pubic hair tickled his nose a little. He glanced up, knowing he was drooling, knowing it would be very hard to just sit there with Shinsou’s cock filling his mouth, and to not do anything.

The look Shinsou gave him made his cock twitch and leak a fat drop onto the tea towel. There was a challenge in his eyes. It asked if Denki could be /good/, and do as he was told. Denki blinked submissively up at him, and Shinsou’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“What a good maid you are,” he said, patting Denki’s head. “You’re like. Full-service.”

Denki moaned at the praise, and felt Shinsou’s cock twitch on his tongue. Fuck, he wanted to suck it. He wanted to make Shinsou feel good. He wanted to taste his come and let it splatter across his face, drip onto his chest. But, Shinsou was reaching for his fork and plate, not even looking at him. Denki’s thighs quivered. Here he was, warming Shinsou’s cock for him, and his own erection was absolutely /straining/ at the thought that Shinsou was ignoring him, treating him like a... like an /object/ or something. It was perfect. He couldn’t have asked for anything better. On his knees, wanting so badly to service his master, and being denied... it was exquisite torture. His eyes went half-lidded and he moaned again, in appreciation for what Shinsou was doing to him. He felt lightheaded. Time crawled by, punctuated by the sound of Shinsou’s fork hitting the plate. Denki’s chin was wet with drool. His cock ached. He thought he might have just fallen in love with Shinsou Hitoshi.

Finally, Shinsou put his fork down and pushed his plate away. Denki trembled. He looked up, as Shinsou smiled indulgently at him.

“Your mouth is so hot,” Shinsou rumbled. “It’s been hard not to grab your hair and just fuck your throat this whole time. You’d like that, though, wouldn’t you, my pretty little maid?”

Denki nodded as best he could with his mouth full of cock. He would, he really fuckin’ would.

“Now, does my lovely maid have any other special plans for his master’s birthday?”

Denki wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer with his tongue otherwise occupied, and so just blinked up at Shinsou, humming. What other plans could he offer? In his heart of hearts he wanted to be bent over the tea table and fucked, but he hadn’t exactly planned for any of this. He didn’t have condoms or lube or anything, and he doubted Shinsou carried anything like that to work with him. Shinsou’s hand landed on the top of his head, held him steady as he pushed his chair back and pulled out of Denki’s mouth.

“I—“ Denki’s voice was rough, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I thought, maybe, you might like to um. Between my thighs? Sir?”

“Hmm,” Shinsou answered, again. He glanced over to the counter, where the shop sold a few small impulse-buy items, like lipgloss, and keychains, and scented hand lotion. “Yeah... I’d like that a lot,” he said quietly. “Why don’t you clear away the tea service and make some space?”

Parading around naked and hard like that, carrying a tea tray, was something Denki had never considered before, but he felt like he’d be re-treading this memory /often/ in his future masturbatory fantasies. Like, what if his lord and master had a strict uniform of nudity for all his staff, and he’d be punished for being erect? He imagined Shinsou this time, instead of his usual somewhat faceless Young Lord character. In his mind’s eye, Shinsou was dressed for a fox hunt, in breeches and redingote, brandishing a riding crop and threatening to whip Denki for his impropriety. He set the tea tray down on the counter, along with the cake and dishes, and had to take a few calming breaths. Shinsou was going to fuck his thighs. He was going to bend over and let Shinsou thrust to completion between his legs, and come on his skin. He shivered, turning just in time to see Shinsou pluck the tea towel up from the floor and spread it over the edge of the table. Denki blushed furiously, and grabbed a tester of ‘strawberries and cream’ scented lotion. Shinsou met his eyes.

“Strawberries and cream is the theme of the day, isn’t it?” he noted, taking the lotion from Denki’s trembling fingers. “You’re going to smell just like my birthday cake when we’re done.”

“Mmm, shame I won’t smell more like you,” Denki answered dreamily, before realizing what he’d said and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Maybe another time,” Shinsou said. “Unless... you know. This is more of a one-time deal?”

The confidence with which he’d been commanding Denki all afternoon evaporated for a moment, and Denki couldn’t take it. He had to rush over, loop his arms around Shinsou’s neck and press up against him, naked but for his stockings, choker, and Mary Janes, and kiss him. He kissed insistently, pressing his lips to Shinsou’s face over and over, on his lips, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his jaw, anywhere he thought he could get away with.

“I don’t want just a one-time deal,” Denki said into Shinsou’s mouth. “Please, you’re perfect. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this. And... and I can take you on dates and stuff! Whatever you want, Shinsou, please.”

“Hitoshi. You should call me Hitoshi, if we’re gonna start going out.”

Denki laughed. “Sure. Except for when I’m calling you /Master/.”

“Right, except for then,” Hitoshi agreed. “Speaking of...” He cast his eyes meaningfully at the table, and Denki felt his cock twitch against Hitoshi, reached down to pull Hitoshi’s out of his open trousers, gripped them both together, and stroked them slowly.

“Ooh, Master,” he cooed, “you’re so generous. It’s /your/ birthday but you’ve gotten me—“

“Don’t say ‘a big package’, or I will spank you.”

Denki giggled, and squeezed their tips. “That’s not much of a deterrent.”

Hitoshi swallowed thickly, a soft grunt rising up in his throat as Denki’s hand sped up. “What happened to my nice, obedient maid?” he forced out, hips hitching into Denki’s grip.

“Haven’t seen him,” Denki teased, but then he felt it. The consuming blankness of being under Hitoshi’s quirk. He couldn’t move. He could barely think past the chorus of /yes yes yes yes YES!/ running through his mind. His cock twitched rather obviously in his lax grip.

“Go bend over the table, feet spread shoulder width apart,” Hitoshi commanded, and Denki couldn’t do anything but obey. His legs moved of their own accord, and he bent easily over the table, tea towel under his belly.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” Hitoshi instructed, coming to stand behind Denki, so Denki could feel his heat, but couldn’t move his hips back into it.

“Good,” Denki mumbled. He couldn’t get out more than that. Being forced to speak was an extremely strange sensation, but he felt impossibly hot, all the same. Hitoshi’s hand landed on his lower back and he wanted to moan, but he couldn’t. He’d never felt so helpless. His cock leaked freely onto the floor.

“I’m going to put the lotion between your thighs now,” Hitoshi warned. “It might be a bit cold.”

Not that Denki could react if it was. He waited, anticipating the fruity scent, the cool lotion on his sensitive skin, the feel of Hitoshi’s hand between his legs.

“Such a sweet little fuck toy,” Hitoshi murmured. Denki broke out in goosebumps, and then there was Hitoshi’s hand, liberally slicking his thighs. “You are absolutely loving this. You don’t want to think, you just want to be used. Do you even care if you get to come?” Hitoshi’s hand, slippery with fragrant lotion, wrapped around Denki’s cock and began to stroke, achingly slowly. Denki wanted to whine, to plead, to take some of that excess lotion and rub it over his hole, just for a little friction. Of course he couldn’t do any of those things. Couldn’t even look Hitoshi in the eyes to try to communicate it by expression alone. He had to just lie there and take it, the slow, sweet pleasure, the rasp of Hitoshi’s fingertips in his slit, the push and pull of his fist. He thought he might die.

And then it stopped.

“Legs together, now,” Hitoshi directed, and Denki’s legs slapped closed. He could feel the lotion between them. He thought, ‘this is it, he’s going to fuck my thighs,’ but instead, Hitoshi’s hands landed on his ass, squeezed and pulled, exposed his hole to the air. Denki sucked in a breath, which was about all he /could/ do.

“Too bad we weren’t more prepared for this. Maybe I should tell you that any maid of mine should be ready to get his slutty hole fucked any time his master wants it, hm?” Then, Hitoshi spat on his hole, the fat gob landing with an audible splat, and Denki gasped again. He felt what had to be Hitoshi’s thumb rubbing the spit into his rim, sensitizing him. It was the first time anyone besides him had ever touched him like that, but he’d bet money it wasn’t Hitoshi’s first time, with how well he was controlling this whole... thing. Denki wondered who else Hitoshi had been with, what they’d liked, how they’d differed from him. Hitoshi’s thumb slipped down from his hole to just behind his balls and pressed down in a way that made Denki feel humiliatingly close to coming, and he realized, /oh shit/, Hitoshi had some fucking MOVES.

“Fuck, Hitoshi!” he moaned, realizing all at once that he wasn’t under Hitoshi’s quirk anymore. He arched his back. “Please, please, fuck, that was so good...”

“What... this?” Hitoshi replied, grinning, as he pressed his thumb to Denki’s perineum again, made Denki shiver and clench his fists to stop from coming on the spot.

“Aaah! Yes!” Denki cried, “b-but also, before! When you used your quirk on me! Ohh, Hitoshi. So good...”

He felt like he was going to melt. He was gonna slide off the table and turn into a puddle on the floor, and it was all because of Hitoshi pushing on him with /just one finger/. Fucking /hell/. His thumb slid down to the seam of Denki’s balls, his forefinger teasing underneath them. It felt embarrassingly like being milked, and he didn’t know what to do with that mental image, or the jolts of pleasure zinging through his nerves.

“You’ve been hard basically forever,” Hitoshi observed, cupping and rolling Denki’s balls, teasing him mercilessly. “The littlest thing is gonna set you off. Such a dirty maid.”

Denki whined and squirmed, wondering if Hitoshi wanted him to flat-out beg. He would, he absolutely fuckin’ would, but then, Hitoshi’s hands were spanning his lower back again, holding him steady.

“Ready?” Hitoshi asked, and then Denki could feel the head of his cock pushing at the backs of his thighs.

“Uh-huh,” Denki replied, shaking with the need to feel Hitoshi push between his legs.

Hitoshi went slow, like he was entering him for /real/, and Denki moaned aloud. It wasn’t even the pleasure of Hitoshi’s cock grazing Denki’s balls, or hitting the underside of Denki’s own leaking erection. It was just. It /felt/ like Hitoshi wanted to fuck him, wanted to be inside him. Hitoshi pulled back, thrust back into the channel between his thighs, and Denki grunted aloud.

“Yeah, Hitoshi. You’re humping me like a pillow,” he rasped. “I want to be so good for you. Want you to fuck my thighs until you come.”

Hitoshi’s lower belly smacked Denki’s ass as he sped his thrusts. “Yeah? Better keep your legs clamped tight, then,” he answered hoarsely. One of his hands went to Denki’s upper back, pinning him to the table. It felt good, being held down, and he panted and moaned as Hitoshi’s cock slipped in and out from between his thighs.

“Mm, Master is so good to his naughty maid,” he sighed, practically delirious. “I hope you don’t get your clothes dirty by using my body like this.”

Denki was sure they made quite a picture, him naked but for his choker, shoes and stockings, Hitoshi fully dressed except for where he’d pushed his clothes out of the way to fuck Denki’s thighs. Denki shuddered, a delicious thrill running down his spine at the mental image.

Hitoshi kept going faster, his hips slamming Denki’s into the edge of the table, so Denki was sure he’d have bruises to remember the encounter by. He smiled into the tablecloth. What would it feel like when Hitoshi came on him? He’d obviously felt it when he came all over his own hand, and belly, and chest... but would it feel different when it was someone else’s? When he didn’t feel it coming? His breath came hard and heavy, waiting for that moment, waiting for Hitoshi’s to find his release against him.

“If I do, I have a maid to clean me up, don’t I?” Hitoshi intoned. He sounded breathless.

“Mm, are you close? Master?” Denki asked, squeezing his legs tighter.

“Yeah. You’re being so good, making it tight for me. You ready for it? You want my come between your legs?” Hitoshi’s hands gripped him tighter, holding him just where he wanted him.

“Uh-huh,” Denki groaned, “I um... I wanna feel it like you came inside, and it’s, you know, leaking out. Running down.” He hoped he’d get to feel that for real sometime. He wanted it badly, his cock twitching untouched at the thought of Hitoshi’s earlier words: /any maid of mine should be ready to get his slutty hole fucked any time his master wants it/. Fucking hell.

Hitoshi made a low sound in his throat. “Fuck, yeah. You want that? You want me to paint you inside, make you feel it?” He squeezed Denki’s ass, opened it to the air again. “You want your master to make this little hole wet with come?”

Denki keened aloud, and then he was coming, shaking against the table, splattering the tea towel. One of Hitoshi’s hands wrapped around him to stroke him through it, and he couldn’t control himself, then.

“Oh! Fuck! M-master, fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m coming so hard, holy SHIT! Hitoshi, oh my god!” he shouted as his whole body shook with it.

“You’re gorgeous when you come,” Hitoshi whispered into his ear, and Denki sobbed. “Ahh, you’ve made my hand all dirty,” Hitoshi cooed, “be a good maid and clean it up.”

He held his hand in front of Denki’s face, and, blissed out and sniffling, Denki couldn’t think to do anything but lick his own come from Hitoshi’s fingers. Hitoshi pushed his fingers into Denki’s mouth when they were clean, and held them there, pressing down on his tongue while Denki sucked weakly.

“Mmh,” Hitoshi grunted, thrusting hard, and then Denki felt it. Hitoshi’s hot come, hitting his inner thighs, and the backs of his legs. Suddenly, Hitoshi pulled back, his cock slipping out from between Denki’s thighs, and then Denki could hear Hitoshi stroking himself fast and rough, come hitting his lower back, his ass, until it felt like it was all over him. He arched tiredly, and moaned around Hitoshi’s fingers. He wanted to stay like that, just like that, covered in Hitoshi’s come, ready and waiting for the next time Hitoshi felt the urge.

“Mmm,” Denki echoed. He relaxed against the table, luxuriating in how soiled he felt.

“God, you’re so...” Hitoshi struggled for words. “You’re like a wet dream, Denki. Can’t believe you wanted to do all this with me.” He trailed a finger down Denki’s ribs, where he was sweaty, but otherwise clean. “I mean, maybe it’s just because I was there, and willing to indulge your fetish, but still, I’m grateful.”

Denki looked over his shoulder, alarmed. “What are you talking about? I told you, you’re perfect! Do you think I’m using you or something? Like... not in a sexy way?”

“No, it’s just. I’m working retail here. Not exactly the salary of a young lord. Wouldn’t someone who actually had the bank account to back it up be better? They could buy you more dresses, for one thing.”

Denki’s brows furrowed. “Are you trying to get rid of me, now that you’ve gotten off? I thought we were gonna go out sometime.” It felt weird having this conversation with come drying on his skin and his bare ass hanging out, but what could he do? “Did I do something wrong? Did I screw it up?” He didn’t understand. Hitoshi had just finished calling him ‘a wet dream’. Maybe Denki was asking too much by assuming Hitoshi would /also/ want to date him.

“It’s not that. I dunno, I kinda thought maybe I was just a convenient body, for you to project your fantasies onto.” He winced. “Sorry, that didn’t sound right.” He kept petting down Denki’s side, sending very mixed signals. “I’m not trying to shame you. I liked it. A lot. /A lot/,” he reiterated.

“Then... what’s the problem?” Denki asked, watching Hitoshi’s face over his shoulder.

“I dunno. I kinda feel like you could do better,” Hitoshi admitted, not meeting Denki’s eyes. He tucked himself back into his trousers, quickly did up the button fly.

Denki snorted and stretched out, rolling his shoulders. “How many times do I have to tell you, Hitoshi? You’re perfect. And, I like you a lot. Today has really opened my eyes up about some things, and I seriously for real could not imagine a better first time than everything you and I just did. Your character was incredible. You were incredible. I’m still tingling.”

“Your first time?” Hitoshi gasped. “Did you tell me that and I wasn’t listening? Good god...” He passed his hand over his hair, though it stayed in its typical spiky style.

“Well, it’s not like you fucked me dry or something. Like in a hentai doujin.” Denki finally rolled up off the table and unstuck his thighs. They’d been slightly glued together with dried come.

“Obviously not,” Hitoshi shot back. “I can’t believe I made you a cock warmer your first time. And used my quirk on you. What kind of person am I?”

“Uhh, the kind that made me come untouched just by talking dirty?” Denki walked over to the dressing room to inspect his stockings in the mirror, to make sure he hadn’t gotten anything on them, but he was struck by how he looked, naked and covered in dried come, his shoes and stockings still pristine. He could picture himself kneeling for tea ceremony looking like this, or stretching up to dust a high shelf or something. He smiled at his reflection, and then found Hitoshi’s eyes in the mirror, saw the way the other was watching him preen and pose. “Believe me, I feel so super lucky right now,” he promised, and, shakily, Hitoshi nodded.

“Yeah,” Hitoshi said. “Me too. You’re unbelievable.”

Denki grinned wider, tried to turn so he could get a good view of his back in the mirror. “I hope you don’t get into trouble for closing the store this whole time.”

Hitoshi shrugged. “It’ll be fine. You were gonna buy that outfit we picked out, right? One big sale like that should set me up okay.”

Denki looked at the dress and apron, hanging beside him on the dressing room. He would’ve bought it before, but now, with the memories he’d made in it, he couldn’t leave without it.

“Yeah. I’m gonna want others though,” he said. “When I can save up some more money.”

With a quiet laugh, Hitoshi smoothed his hand down Denki’s spine. “Well, I get an employee discount,” he noted. “Maybe that’ll be an incentive for you to come back?”

Denki giggled. “Yeah, maybe. There might be one other reason, though.” He turned, pressed a kiss to Hitoshi’s jaw.

“Hmm,” Hitoshi said, sounding fond this time. “Why don’t you get dressed and I can ring you up? Much as I do like the way you look right now, I probably should reopen the store at some point today.”

Denki nodded into Hitoshi’s neck, hands against his chest. “If you say so,” he replied, acting put-upon. “I think I might wear the stockings out, though... under my clothes.”

“Mmm. My naughty maid,” Hitoshi murmured, kissing the top of Denki’s head.

“Yes, Master,” Denki sighed. “All yours.”