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kinkfestTitle: Three for Tea
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
genkisakka
Rating: R
Prompt: (from Nov. 24) Doumeki/Himawari/Watanuki: dress-up - Stop complaining.
Warnings: profanity, m/m groping
Word count: ~2,700
Summary: Watanuki loses a bet, and Doumeki loses his composure.
A/N: No overt spoilers, but it is set after the events of Vol. 10 of the xxxHolic manga. Apologies for being late with this, and for taking liberties with the prompt -- I started out trying to write a true threesome, and it ended up being more of a DouWata fic. ^^;;
Doumeki’s day had started out well. Watanuki had demanded a soccer rematch with him during gym, and it turned into a bet as to whether Watanuki could make a shot against goalkeeper Doumeki. The idiot went 0-for-6, just as he had in their previous match, and of course Doumeki insisted on an edible reward for winning their wager. Since Kunogi had been there to cheer them both on, Doumeki invited her as well, knowing her presence would soothe Watanuki’s indignation somewhat.
That had led to Doumeki’s present situation, standing in a small parlor at the shop of the time-space witch, frowning at the dove-gray, three-piece suit and matching accessories laid out on a velvet settee. He wondered exactly when his reward of afternoon high tea prepared by Watanuki’s hands had turned into a costume party of three. He supposed it was inevitable, given Watanuki’s after-school work commitment – once his hard-partying employer had heard about the deal, she had embraced the tea-party concept with gusto and seized upon a book Kunogi was reading about turn-of-the-century Paris to provide the theme.
Doumeki shrugged and stripped off his school uniform, figuring that playing along with the witch was a fair trade for having Watanuki serve them all the sandwiches and tea (and likely alcohol) they could consume.
And Watanuki would be providing plenty of entertainment as well, judging by the commotion in the room next door.
“Yuuko-san!” Watanuki yelled. “There must be some mistake with my clothes… because I sure as hell am NOT wearing this!”
Out of habit, Doumeki stuck his fingers in his ears, even though he knew Watanuki couldn’t see him. “You lost the bet, so stop complaining,” he called out.
“Shut up, YOU~!” Watanuki snarled. “I said I would make European-style high tea for you, didn’t I? But Yuuko-san… I don’t remember agreeing to put on that… or those, either!”
“Of course you did!” Yuuko twittered. “The theme is ‘la belle époque,’ by Himawari-chan’s special request. Surely you don’t want to disappoint her?”
“Well, no, but … but, Yuuko-san, these are itchy!” Watanuki sputtered.
His boss’s voice was bubbly with laughter. “You’ll get used to them.”
“No, I won’t!” Watanuki made a strange choking noise. “Wait… NO WAY! What the hell are those? ”
“They go with the uniform,” Yuuko replied brightly.
“They are RIDICULOUS!” Watanuki’s voice cracked with frustration. “I won’t wear them! How can I work in those? What if I have to bend down?”
Yuuko let out a diabolical chuckle. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Interesting, Doumeki thought with a smirk. Given the volume and vigor of Watanuki’s protests, the costume the sadistic witch had forced upon her hapless worker was going to be well worth seeing.
“Gaah, you… you… what will Himawari-chan think of me?” Watanuki wailed.
“She’ll think you’re adorable!” Yuuko exclaimed.
“Adorable! Adorable!” her little attendants echoed enthusiastically.
“FINE!” Watanuki’s shout nearly shook the walls. “I’ll wear the damn things… now get out! I can dress myself!”
“All right, all right,” Yuuko laughed. “Maru, Moro, wait here in case our dear Watanuki needs any assistance.”
“Yes, mistress!” the attendants piped in unison.
Doumeki gave the knot of his dark-blue necktie one final tug, donned the gray top hat and gloves, and exited the small side parlor, where he came face to face with Yuuko herself. As usual, she was dressed in an outrageously opulent fashion. Her burgundy gown was wasp-waisted, with full sleeves and skirt, and its hem was trimmed with inverted triangles of crocheted white lace. Her long ebony hair was piled high beneath a jaunty black hat punctuated with a fluffy maroon plume.
“Why Doumeki-kun, you look quite dashing,” Yuuko said with a dazzling smile. She held out a white-gloved hand, and Doumeki bowed slightly before taking it.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Doumeki said.
“Such a gentleman,” she trilled. “Watanuki could learn a thing or two from you.”
“I HEARD THAT!” Watanuki growled.
Laughing, the witch nestled her hand in the crook of Doumeki’s elbow and together, they headed for the front door of the shop. After a pause to collect their shoes (Yuuko’s were button-up ankle boots with perilously high heels), they made their way to the café-style table and chairs set up in the center of the front yard. Kunogi stood up to greet them, resplendent in a high-collared canary-yellow dress with black piping and shiny black buttons up the front. Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back from her face with a simple yellow ribbon.
“Good afternoon,” Kunogi said with a little bow.
“Good afternoon,” Doumeki said, returning the gesture. “You look very nice, Kunogi.”
“So do you, Doumeki-kun,” she said, beaming at both of them. “Yuuko-san, thank you for the dress -- it’s lovely.”
“The color suits you,” Yuuko said with an answering smile. “Please, sit down. Watanuki should be out shortly with our tea.”
Kunogi clapped her hands together. “Is Watanuki-kun dressed up as well, Yuuko-san?” she asked eagerly.
Yuuko gave her most mischievous smile. “It’s a surprise,” she purred. “Now tell me, Himawari-chan, where did you learn so much about belle-époque Parisian fashion?”
“Well, my friends and I adore rococo, but then I saw ‘Gigi,’ and I just fell in love with the beautiful clothes the ladies wore! I think that era is now my favorite…”
Doumeki nodded as if he was listening, but really he was watching the shop for Watanuki’s arrival. Given Watanuki’s vociferous objections, Doumeki suspected his costume with neither that of a gentleman nor a butler.
When Watanuki finally emerged, he was walking slowly, with tiny, precise steps. At first, Doumeki thought it was due to the enormous covered tray balanced in both of Watanuki’s hands.
Then he drew closer, and all conversation stopped.
Watanuki stood scowling before them in a tight, short black dress with tailored white cuffs, a wide, scooped neckline, and matching white apron. The small white cap perched on his head was trimmed with the same lace that bordered the tops of his lavender, thigh-high fishnet stockings. He wore the same high-heeled boots as Yuuko, which accounted for his mincing approach.
“Watanuki-kun,” gasped Kunogi. “You look so CUTE!”
Watanuki flushed crimson. “I had to wear it… it was part of the bet,” he mumbled.
“But you look adorable,” Kunogi enthused. “Doesn’t he, Doumeki-kun?”
Doumeki continued to stare at Watanuki without comment. “What?” Watanuki snapped, glaring at Doumeki, who realized with a start that he’d gone completely slack-jawed. He glowered at Watanuki and retorted –
“You look pretty stupid.”
“So do you,” Watanuki shot back. “What are you supposed to be with that hat, a magician?”
“If I was, I’d pull some sense out of this hat for you,” Doumeki said, removing it along with the gloves and setting them carefully on the lawn.
Yuuko was snickering behind one gloved hand. “They’re such good friends,” she commented to Kunogi as Watanuki uncovered the tray and set out the bone-china teapot and cups.
“I’ve always thought so,” Kunogi replied cheerfully. “They’re so at ease with each other – it’s clear they share a close bond.”
“Indeed,” Yuuko chortled, glancing slyly at Watanuki, who was grinding his teeth as he poured tea into the cups. He set Doumeki’s serving down with a little more force than necessary, setting the cup rattling in its saucer. The tea sloshed around, not quite spilling over.
“I thought French maids were supposed to be graceful,” Doumeki said.
Watanuki opened his mouth for another tirade, but Yuuko cut him off. “Doumeki-kun has a point,” she said, eyes gleaming wickedly. “A French maid should be elegant and sophisticated in all she does.” She held out her teacup. “I’ll take cream and two sugars, please, my dear maid.”
Watanuki glared daggers at his grinning employer, but carefully administered the cream and sugar without comment. He had to bend over slightly to dip the tongs into the sugar-bowl, and Doumeki noticed his little skirt was slit up the sides, exposing a tantalizing line of bare thigh, more lavender lace, and white silk.
As in white silk… panties? Doumeki felt his face grow warm at the thought.
“Himawari-chan, would you care for some sugar?” Watanuki asked.
“Just a little cream, thank you, Watanuki-kun,” Kunogi replied with a smile. Watanuki set down the tongs and poured the cream with a bit of a flourish, making Kunogi giggle. He turned to Doumeki.
“Do you want any?” he asked stiffly, holding out the little silver pitcher.
Doumeki tried to speak and found his mouth had gone completely dry. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I would like one sugar,” he said.
Watanuki stared open-mouthed at him. “But you never drink anything sweet!” he protested.
Doumeki held out his cup. “One, please,” he repeated. Watanuki muttered something under his breath and leaned over to fish a lump of sugar out of the bowl. This time the skirt rode up a bit higher, revealing a few neat rows of white silk ruching above the lavender-lace trim, the whole of it fitted snugly along Watanuki’s slender thigh. Doumeki had a sudden urge to slip his hand into the skirt’s slit and stroke those lines of pale fabric. The idea set his limbs tingling and his blood pounding hot and fast.
Watanuki straightened all too quickly and dropped the sugar into Doumeki’s cup carefully so as not to splatter the tea. Doumeki responded with a distracted nod and reached for his teaspoon, but his fingers fumbled and the spoon landed in the grass. Watanuki started to bend down to retrieve it, but Doumeki waved him off.
“I can get it,” he said, picking up the spoon and setting it back on the tray. Doumeki figured another glimpse of those panties could do serious damage to his mental state.
Watanuki shrugged and set a plate of delicate little sandwiches in front of each guest. Yuuko and Kunogi marveled over the different shapes and fillings, and Watanuki told Doumeki—
“Don’t worry, there’s more in the kitchen. I knew you’d eat like a horse.”
“Thanks for the food,” Doumeki said. He popped one of the little morsels into his mouth – something with salmon and dill and some sort of tangy mayo-like spread. It was delicious, like everything else Watanuki made. He took a sip of the tea, which was too sweet on its own, but complemented the savory sandwich perfectly.
Yuuko and Kunogi ate and drank and chatted, while Doumeki ate and drank and watched Watanuki refill the cups and blush at Kunogi’s praise and growl at Yuuko’s teasing. Despite his vow of discipline, Doumeki couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering downward to those damned slits, hoping for another panty-flash. But Watanuki, contrary to the last, kept his movements small and careful.
Once the last drops of tea were poured, Watanuki held up the empty pot. “Would you like me to make some more?” he asked.
“I think it’s time for champagne!” Yuuko exclaimed. “Right, Mokona?”
The black creature appeared seemingly out of nowhere and bounced onto Yuuko’s lap. “Champagne! Champagne and cakes!” it chanted, banging a fork on the table.
Watanuki grimaced. “I thought this was afternoon tea,” he said.
“Tea in the Parisian style is always served with wine!” Yuuko insisted. “Bring us champagne and strawberries, my dear maid!”
“And cakes!” Mokona added.
“Some madeleines would be lovely,” Kunogi said. “But only if it’s no trouble, Watanuki-kun.”
“No trouble at all, since it’s for you,” Watanuki said with the dazzling smile he reserved for Kunogi alone. He gathered the tea things and picked up the tray once more, and Doumeki jumped up.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for the tray, but Watanuki yanked it away.
“I can carry it myself,” he said sharply, stalking off toward the shop. Yuuko gazed after her employee for a moment, then turned back to the table, tapping a finger against her cheek.
“Let’s see… champagne bottle, glasses, bucket with ice, cakes and strawberries…” she mused. “Our dear maid will probably need help bringing all of that out here. Doumeki-kun, would you be so kind?”
Doumeki knew that Maru and Moro could just as easily assist with serving, but he wasn’t about to question Yuuko’s motives when her request gave him the perfect excuse to spend a few moments alone with their reluctant French maid.
“Please excuse me,” he said with a bow. As he hurried back into the shop, he thought he could hear Yuuko and Mokona cackling together.
Doumeki paused just outside the kitchen doorway. Watanuki was rinsing strawberries at the sink, while Maru and Moro were setting the sweets onto a three-tiered tray. The moment Yuuko’s assistants spotted Doumeki, they silently left the kitchen, nodding at Doumeki as they passed.
“Maru, Moro, where are you going?” Watanuki asked, turning around. He scowled as he caught sight of Doumeki entering the room. “I thought I told you I didn’t need any help from you,” he said.
Doumeki decided it would be a waste of time and breath to reply, so he wordlessly pinned Watanuki against the sink’s edge.
“What the hell?” Watanuki growled, and Doumeki silenced him with a rough, raw kiss, all teeth and tongue and tumult. Watanuki responded in kind, biting at Doumeki’s mouth and pulling handfuls of his hair. Doumeki drew back slightly, panting and running his tongue gingerly over the place where Watanuki’s canine had scraped the inside of his lower lip.
“That idiotic dress,” he rasped, wedging Watanuki’s legs open with his knee. “I want to rip it off.” He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the line of Watanuki’s neck, traveling along the line of skin exposed by the wide neckline. He closed his teeth lightly over the ridge of Watanuki’s collarbone, and the other boy responded with a strangled moan.
“Stop,” Watanuki protested breathlessly, squirming against Doumeki. “Anyone could see us!”
“Then we should be quick,” Doumeki said, shoving a hand up Watanuki’s skirt. Watanuki squawked and tried to grab Doumeki’s wrist, but Doumeki shook free of Watanuki’s grip and kissed him again, running his fingers all over those panties. They were warm with Watanuki’s body heat and even softer than Doumeki had imagined.
Watanuki broke their kiss and turned his face away, wriggling in a most beguiling fashion. “Dammit, Doumeki, we’re in the middle of Yuuko-san’s kitchen!” he hissed.
“Don’t care,” Doumeki mumbled, tracing the shape of Watanuki’s hard-on through the silky fabric. “I don’t think you do, either.”
“Damn you and your oversexed ways,” Watanuki gasped, pushing into Doumeki’s hand. Doumeki chuckled and continued stroking Watanuki’s silk-covered crotch, and Watanuki arched his neck and let out a needy mewl that made Doumeki’s own prick throb unbearably. He had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted to pull that silly skirt up and those maddening panties down and fuck Watanuki right there on the kitchen floor, Yuuko and Kunogi and the rest of them be damned.
“Want you now,” he whispered, slipping his hand under one lace leg-band and cupping Watanuki’s bare bottom. He hooked the fingers of his other hand in the waistband of the panties and began to tug them down, and Watanuki grabbed for his wrist again, and both boys froze as they heard a familiar voice calling from the front door.
“Doumeki-kun… Watanuki-kun… is everything all right? Can I help?”
Watanuki squeaked and shoved Doumeki away as if he were made of molten metal. “Everything’s okay, Himawari-chan!” he called back, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. “We’ll be right out, so please sit down and relax!”
Doumeki took several long, deep breaths, smoothing his mussed hair back into place with shaking hands. Watanuki straightened his clothes and adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew during their tussle.
“Sorry,” Doumeki finally said.
Watanuki nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. “Bring those cakes out, would you?” he said. “I just need a minute.”
From the conspicuous way Watanuki’s skirt bulged out in front, Doumeki thought he’d probably need a little more than that. But he simply said “all right,” and picked up the tray. As he was leaving, Doumeki looked over his shoulder and said—
“Make sure that champagne is really cold.”
That made Watanuki snort with laughter, and Doumeki felt the knot in his stomach loosen. He carried the tray out to the café table, unable to keep from smiling at the delighted cries that greeted his arrival.
Doumeki would definitely have to request French maid service at his place tomorrow.
Author:
genkisakkaRating: R
Prompt: (from Nov. 24) Doumeki/Himawari/Watanuki: dress-up - Stop complaining.
Warnings: profanity, m/m groping
Word count: ~2,700
Summary: Watanuki loses a bet, and Doumeki loses his composure.
A/N: No overt spoilers, but it is set after the events of Vol. 10 of the xxxHolic manga. Apologies for being late with this, and for taking liberties with the prompt -- I started out trying to write a true threesome, and it ended up being more of a DouWata fic. ^^;;
Doumeki’s day had started out well. Watanuki had demanded a soccer rematch with him during gym, and it turned into a bet as to whether Watanuki could make a shot against goalkeeper Doumeki. The idiot went 0-for-6, just as he had in their previous match, and of course Doumeki insisted on an edible reward for winning their wager. Since Kunogi had been there to cheer them both on, Doumeki invited her as well, knowing her presence would soothe Watanuki’s indignation somewhat.
That had led to Doumeki’s present situation, standing in a small parlor at the shop of the time-space witch, frowning at the dove-gray, three-piece suit and matching accessories laid out on a velvet settee. He wondered exactly when his reward of afternoon high tea prepared by Watanuki’s hands had turned into a costume party of three. He supposed it was inevitable, given Watanuki’s after-school work commitment – once his hard-partying employer had heard about the deal, she had embraced the tea-party concept with gusto and seized upon a book Kunogi was reading about turn-of-the-century Paris to provide the theme.
Doumeki shrugged and stripped off his school uniform, figuring that playing along with the witch was a fair trade for having Watanuki serve them all the sandwiches and tea (and likely alcohol) they could consume.
And Watanuki would be providing plenty of entertainment as well, judging by the commotion in the room next door.
“Yuuko-san!” Watanuki yelled. “There must be some mistake with my clothes… because I sure as hell am NOT wearing this!”
Out of habit, Doumeki stuck his fingers in his ears, even though he knew Watanuki couldn’t see him. “You lost the bet, so stop complaining,” he called out.
“Shut up, YOU~!” Watanuki snarled. “I said I would make European-style high tea for you, didn’t I? But Yuuko-san… I don’t remember agreeing to put on that… or those, either!”
“Of course you did!” Yuuko twittered. “The theme is ‘la belle époque,’ by Himawari-chan’s special request. Surely you don’t want to disappoint her?”
“Well, no, but … but, Yuuko-san, these are itchy!” Watanuki sputtered.
His boss’s voice was bubbly with laughter. “You’ll get used to them.”
“No, I won’t!” Watanuki made a strange choking noise. “Wait… NO WAY! What the hell are those? ”
“They go with the uniform,” Yuuko replied brightly.
“They are RIDICULOUS!” Watanuki’s voice cracked with frustration. “I won’t wear them! How can I work in those? What if I have to bend down?”
Yuuko let out a diabolical chuckle. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Interesting, Doumeki thought with a smirk. Given the volume and vigor of Watanuki’s protests, the costume the sadistic witch had forced upon her hapless worker was going to be well worth seeing.
“Gaah, you… you… what will Himawari-chan think of me?” Watanuki wailed.
“She’ll think you’re adorable!” Yuuko exclaimed.
“Adorable! Adorable!” her little attendants echoed enthusiastically.
“FINE!” Watanuki’s shout nearly shook the walls. “I’ll wear the damn things… now get out! I can dress myself!”
“All right, all right,” Yuuko laughed. “Maru, Moro, wait here in case our dear Watanuki needs any assistance.”
“Yes, mistress!” the attendants piped in unison.
Doumeki gave the knot of his dark-blue necktie one final tug, donned the gray top hat and gloves, and exited the small side parlor, where he came face to face with Yuuko herself. As usual, she was dressed in an outrageously opulent fashion. Her burgundy gown was wasp-waisted, with full sleeves and skirt, and its hem was trimmed with inverted triangles of crocheted white lace. Her long ebony hair was piled high beneath a jaunty black hat punctuated with a fluffy maroon plume.
“Why Doumeki-kun, you look quite dashing,” Yuuko said with a dazzling smile. She held out a white-gloved hand, and Doumeki bowed slightly before taking it.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Doumeki said.
“Such a gentleman,” she trilled. “Watanuki could learn a thing or two from you.”
“I HEARD THAT!” Watanuki growled.
Laughing, the witch nestled her hand in the crook of Doumeki’s elbow and together, they headed for the front door of the shop. After a pause to collect their shoes (Yuuko’s were button-up ankle boots with perilously high heels), they made their way to the café-style table and chairs set up in the center of the front yard. Kunogi stood up to greet them, resplendent in a high-collared canary-yellow dress with black piping and shiny black buttons up the front. Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back from her face with a simple yellow ribbon.
“Good afternoon,” Kunogi said with a little bow.
“Good afternoon,” Doumeki said, returning the gesture. “You look very nice, Kunogi.”
“So do you, Doumeki-kun,” she said, beaming at both of them. “Yuuko-san, thank you for the dress -- it’s lovely.”
“The color suits you,” Yuuko said with an answering smile. “Please, sit down. Watanuki should be out shortly with our tea.”
Kunogi clapped her hands together. “Is Watanuki-kun dressed up as well, Yuuko-san?” she asked eagerly.
Yuuko gave her most mischievous smile. “It’s a surprise,” she purred. “Now tell me, Himawari-chan, where did you learn so much about belle-époque Parisian fashion?”
“Well, my friends and I adore rococo, but then I saw ‘Gigi,’ and I just fell in love with the beautiful clothes the ladies wore! I think that era is now my favorite…”
Doumeki nodded as if he was listening, but really he was watching the shop for Watanuki’s arrival. Given Watanuki’s vociferous objections, Doumeki suspected his costume with neither that of a gentleman nor a butler.
When Watanuki finally emerged, he was walking slowly, with tiny, precise steps. At first, Doumeki thought it was due to the enormous covered tray balanced in both of Watanuki’s hands.
Then he drew closer, and all conversation stopped.
Watanuki stood scowling before them in a tight, short black dress with tailored white cuffs, a wide, scooped neckline, and matching white apron. The small white cap perched on his head was trimmed with the same lace that bordered the tops of his lavender, thigh-high fishnet stockings. He wore the same high-heeled boots as Yuuko, which accounted for his mincing approach.
“Watanuki-kun,” gasped Kunogi. “You look so CUTE!”
Watanuki flushed crimson. “I had to wear it… it was part of the bet,” he mumbled.
“But you look adorable,” Kunogi enthused. “Doesn’t he, Doumeki-kun?”
Doumeki continued to stare at Watanuki without comment. “What?” Watanuki snapped, glaring at Doumeki, who realized with a start that he’d gone completely slack-jawed. He glowered at Watanuki and retorted –
“You look pretty stupid.”
“So do you,” Watanuki shot back. “What are you supposed to be with that hat, a magician?”
“If I was, I’d pull some sense out of this hat for you,” Doumeki said, removing it along with the gloves and setting them carefully on the lawn.
Yuuko was snickering behind one gloved hand. “They’re such good friends,” she commented to Kunogi as Watanuki uncovered the tray and set out the bone-china teapot and cups.
“I’ve always thought so,” Kunogi replied cheerfully. “They’re so at ease with each other – it’s clear they share a close bond.”
“Indeed,” Yuuko chortled, glancing slyly at Watanuki, who was grinding his teeth as he poured tea into the cups. He set Doumeki’s serving down with a little more force than necessary, setting the cup rattling in its saucer. The tea sloshed around, not quite spilling over.
“I thought French maids were supposed to be graceful,” Doumeki said.
Watanuki opened his mouth for another tirade, but Yuuko cut him off. “Doumeki-kun has a point,” she said, eyes gleaming wickedly. “A French maid should be elegant and sophisticated in all she does.” She held out her teacup. “I’ll take cream and two sugars, please, my dear maid.”
Watanuki glared daggers at his grinning employer, but carefully administered the cream and sugar without comment. He had to bend over slightly to dip the tongs into the sugar-bowl, and Doumeki noticed his little skirt was slit up the sides, exposing a tantalizing line of bare thigh, more lavender lace, and white silk.
As in white silk… panties? Doumeki felt his face grow warm at the thought.
“Himawari-chan, would you care for some sugar?” Watanuki asked.
“Just a little cream, thank you, Watanuki-kun,” Kunogi replied with a smile. Watanuki set down the tongs and poured the cream with a bit of a flourish, making Kunogi giggle. He turned to Doumeki.
“Do you want any?” he asked stiffly, holding out the little silver pitcher.
Doumeki tried to speak and found his mouth had gone completely dry. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I would like one sugar,” he said.
Watanuki stared open-mouthed at him. “But you never drink anything sweet!” he protested.
Doumeki held out his cup. “One, please,” he repeated. Watanuki muttered something under his breath and leaned over to fish a lump of sugar out of the bowl. This time the skirt rode up a bit higher, revealing a few neat rows of white silk ruching above the lavender-lace trim, the whole of it fitted snugly along Watanuki’s slender thigh. Doumeki had a sudden urge to slip his hand into the skirt’s slit and stroke those lines of pale fabric. The idea set his limbs tingling and his blood pounding hot and fast.
Watanuki straightened all too quickly and dropped the sugar into Doumeki’s cup carefully so as not to splatter the tea. Doumeki responded with a distracted nod and reached for his teaspoon, but his fingers fumbled and the spoon landed in the grass. Watanuki started to bend down to retrieve it, but Doumeki waved him off.
“I can get it,” he said, picking up the spoon and setting it back on the tray. Doumeki figured another glimpse of those panties could do serious damage to his mental state.
Watanuki shrugged and set a plate of delicate little sandwiches in front of each guest. Yuuko and Kunogi marveled over the different shapes and fillings, and Watanuki told Doumeki—
“Don’t worry, there’s more in the kitchen. I knew you’d eat like a horse.”
“Thanks for the food,” Doumeki said. He popped one of the little morsels into his mouth – something with salmon and dill and some sort of tangy mayo-like spread. It was delicious, like everything else Watanuki made. He took a sip of the tea, which was too sweet on its own, but complemented the savory sandwich perfectly.
Yuuko and Kunogi ate and drank and chatted, while Doumeki ate and drank and watched Watanuki refill the cups and blush at Kunogi’s praise and growl at Yuuko’s teasing. Despite his vow of discipline, Doumeki couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering downward to those damned slits, hoping for another panty-flash. But Watanuki, contrary to the last, kept his movements small and careful.
Once the last drops of tea were poured, Watanuki held up the empty pot. “Would you like me to make some more?” he asked.
“I think it’s time for champagne!” Yuuko exclaimed. “Right, Mokona?”
The black creature appeared seemingly out of nowhere and bounced onto Yuuko’s lap. “Champagne! Champagne and cakes!” it chanted, banging a fork on the table.
Watanuki grimaced. “I thought this was afternoon tea,” he said.
“Tea in the Parisian style is always served with wine!” Yuuko insisted. “Bring us champagne and strawberries, my dear maid!”
“And cakes!” Mokona added.
“Some madeleines would be lovely,” Kunogi said. “But only if it’s no trouble, Watanuki-kun.”
“No trouble at all, since it’s for you,” Watanuki said with the dazzling smile he reserved for Kunogi alone. He gathered the tea things and picked up the tray once more, and Doumeki jumped up.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for the tray, but Watanuki yanked it away.
“I can carry it myself,” he said sharply, stalking off toward the shop. Yuuko gazed after her employee for a moment, then turned back to the table, tapping a finger against her cheek.
“Let’s see… champagne bottle, glasses, bucket with ice, cakes and strawberries…” she mused. “Our dear maid will probably need help bringing all of that out here. Doumeki-kun, would you be so kind?”
Doumeki knew that Maru and Moro could just as easily assist with serving, but he wasn’t about to question Yuuko’s motives when her request gave him the perfect excuse to spend a few moments alone with their reluctant French maid.
“Please excuse me,” he said with a bow. As he hurried back into the shop, he thought he could hear Yuuko and Mokona cackling together.
Doumeki paused just outside the kitchen doorway. Watanuki was rinsing strawberries at the sink, while Maru and Moro were setting the sweets onto a three-tiered tray. The moment Yuuko’s assistants spotted Doumeki, they silently left the kitchen, nodding at Doumeki as they passed.
“Maru, Moro, where are you going?” Watanuki asked, turning around. He scowled as he caught sight of Doumeki entering the room. “I thought I told you I didn’t need any help from you,” he said.
Doumeki decided it would be a waste of time and breath to reply, so he wordlessly pinned Watanuki against the sink’s edge.
“What the hell?” Watanuki growled, and Doumeki silenced him with a rough, raw kiss, all teeth and tongue and tumult. Watanuki responded in kind, biting at Doumeki’s mouth and pulling handfuls of his hair. Doumeki drew back slightly, panting and running his tongue gingerly over the place where Watanuki’s canine had scraped the inside of his lower lip.
“That idiotic dress,” he rasped, wedging Watanuki’s legs open with his knee. “I want to rip it off.” He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the line of Watanuki’s neck, traveling along the line of skin exposed by the wide neckline. He closed his teeth lightly over the ridge of Watanuki’s collarbone, and the other boy responded with a strangled moan.
“Stop,” Watanuki protested breathlessly, squirming against Doumeki. “Anyone could see us!”
“Then we should be quick,” Doumeki said, shoving a hand up Watanuki’s skirt. Watanuki squawked and tried to grab Doumeki’s wrist, but Doumeki shook free of Watanuki’s grip and kissed him again, running his fingers all over those panties. They were warm with Watanuki’s body heat and even softer than Doumeki had imagined.
Watanuki broke their kiss and turned his face away, wriggling in a most beguiling fashion. “Dammit, Doumeki, we’re in the middle of Yuuko-san’s kitchen!” he hissed.
“Don’t care,” Doumeki mumbled, tracing the shape of Watanuki’s hard-on through the silky fabric. “I don’t think you do, either.”
“Damn you and your oversexed ways,” Watanuki gasped, pushing into Doumeki’s hand. Doumeki chuckled and continued stroking Watanuki’s silk-covered crotch, and Watanuki arched his neck and let out a needy mewl that made Doumeki’s own prick throb unbearably. He had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted to pull that silly skirt up and those maddening panties down and fuck Watanuki right there on the kitchen floor, Yuuko and Kunogi and the rest of them be damned.
“Want you now,” he whispered, slipping his hand under one lace leg-band and cupping Watanuki’s bare bottom. He hooked the fingers of his other hand in the waistband of the panties and began to tug them down, and Watanuki grabbed for his wrist again, and both boys froze as they heard a familiar voice calling from the front door.
“Doumeki-kun… Watanuki-kun… is everything all right? Can I help?”
Watanuki squeaked and shoved Doumeki away as if he were made of molten metal. “Everything’s okay, Himawari-chan!” he called back, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. “We’ll be right out, so please sit down and relax!”
Doumeki took several long, deep breaths, smoothing his mussed hair back into place with shaking hands. Watanuki straightened his clothes and adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew during their tussle.
“Sorry,” Doumeki finally said.
Watanuki nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. “Bring those cakes out, would you?” he said. “I just need a minute.”
From the conspicuous way Watanuki’s skirt bulged out in front, Doumeki thought he’d probably need a little more than that. But he simply said “all right,” and picked up the tray. As he was leaving, Doumeki looked over his shoulder and said—
“Make sure that champagne is really cold.”
That made Watanuki snort with laughter, and Doumeki felt the knot in his stomach loosen. He carried the tray out to the café table, unable to keep from smiling at the delighted cries that greeted his arrival.
Doumeki would definitely have to request French maid service at his place tomorrow.
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