Cosplay
Author: fairymage
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Kyouya/Tamaki
Notes: The name of the document on my computer is vickieeatsmybrain. This is all puppetdemon's fault for suggesting a hilarious mental image and challenging me to write this. And it needs smutty follow-up. XD
Summary: “What am I, your maid?”

“Kyouya, take me to my room.” Tamaki stalked out of the dining room, hands thrust deep into his pockets, scowl plastered firmly on his face.

Kyouya showed no sign of irritation as he laid down his fork and dabbed at his lips with his linen napkin. “All right.” To the table still munching contentedly on crab, he excused himself and followed the sulking king.

Tamaki was standing in the hallway, to all appearances waiting for his guide, muttering under his breath, “Can’t believe her… Doesn’t understand…”

He’d been to visit before, so it wasn’t as if Tamaki didn’t know his way around. Nevertheless, Kyouya took the lead through the hallways, Tamaki trailing him, mumbling all the while.

“What am I, your maid?” Kyouya asked smoothly, not a hint of malice or anger in his voice as they reached the door to Tamaki’s appointed room. Tamaki, in his rage, failed to register the glint in Kyouya’s eyes behind his glasses. “You’ve been here before, you know full well where your room is.”

Tamaki paused, all thoughts of Haruhi and her foolishness momentarily gone. Eyes narrowing, smirk forming, he replied, “Well, at least you’d look good in a maid outfit.” Kyouya’s eyes disappeared behind his shining lenses as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

Suddenly Tamaki’s latent fanboy tendencies re-emerged as he exclaimed, “Ah, but Haruhi would look so cute as a maid!” A light blush spread across his cheeks as he put his hands to his face, eyes dreamy and goofy smile appearing. He even spun on one leg a few times for emphasis, flinging sparkles as he moved.

Then just as suddenly his foot slammed down onto the marble floor and one fist slapped the other open palm, all sparkles dissipating rapidly with the force of his anger. Glaring at the wall, he shouted, “NO! It is my duty as her father to make sure boys don’t see her beautiful white legs!”

Naturally, Kyouya’s notebook and pen had appeared out of the pocket of his vest and expanded to full-size, but he wasn’t scribbling away madly, grinning slyly. Instead he was standing quite still, glasses glinting in the dim light, mouth set. Then, a barely perceptible smirk came and went in the blink of an eye, and his long fingers released their grip on the tools of his trade.

Tamaki looked up, startled, breaking from his pose as he heard a sharp clatter. He barely had time to notice Kyouya’s notebook and pen lying on floor before a heavy weight slammed into him, pinning his shoulders against the wall, the heat and energy of another body thrumming pleasantly against his. Blinking, he stared at Kyouya’s dark eyes before him.

“Quite frankly,” Kyouya murmured, leaning in even closer, breath tickling his ear, sending hot shivers up and down his spine. “I think you would look the most beautiful in a maid’s dress. One with lace at the throat,” he purred, pushing aside the collar of Tamaki’s overshirt with his nose, licking and gently brushing the sensitive skin with kisses. “A nice, tight bodice.” His hands drifted down to stroke Tamaki’s sides, then a finger ran down the length of his breastbone, continuing to the button of his pants. “And, of course, a frilly full skirt.” One hand dropped to stroke Tamaki’s thigh, while the other slipped behind him, gripping his well-toned rear, firmly pushing their hips together, one knee sliding between his legs.

His eyes were slitted like a pleased cat’s, lips slightly parted as his breath began to come faster. Kyouya seemed no different, but that wasn’t surprising. His lips and breath continued to tease Tamaki’s neck as he gently increased the pressure against their groins. With a barely audible sigh Tamaki closed his eyes and relaxed his body, letting Kyouya support him and do what he would.

In a flurry of movement they were in the room, door shutting loudly behind them, falling gracelessly onto the bed. He opened his eyes when he hit the bed, Kyouya pinning his wrists, on his knees over him. Smirking, he leaned over and adjusted his body to settle firmly over Tamaki’s hips, fully prepared to pleasure his king.

But Tamaki’s eyes were wide open now, staring not at the boy on top of him, but somewhere over his shoulder, a faraway, thoughtful look in their blue depths. His hands lay limp at his sides, and Kyouya knew that now was not the right time for this. Sighing, he sat back and adjusted his glasses, waiting for the command he knew was coming.

“Kyouya?” Tamaki asked distractedly, as if to affirm his attention.

“Yes, Lord?”

“Can you go… take care of Haruhi?” Tamaki looked away. Kyouya understood it as Tamaki’s reaction to be unable to impress upon the girl how worried he had been about her.

Smiling, Kyouya stood and straightened himself. “Of course.” As his hand turned the doorknob, he threw over his shoulder, “Though you’ll owe me later for it. I’ve just the design for a maid costume in mind…”