Chapter: What Confessions Are Maid Of
It was Saturday, and though it was almost noon, all the blinds in the Kusama-Kamijou household remained uncharacteristically drawn.
Hiroki was standing at the stove cooking eggs for Nowaki.
The slender professor self-consciously put his hand to his forehead, feeling the black and white panda barrettes Nowaki had clipped into his still-damp hair, after their bath together, to hold back his bangs.
The pandas, Nowaki had assured him repeatedly, were the perfect complement to the skimpy French maid's outfit he was wearing.
Nowaki emerged from the bathroom only moments later looking clean and particularly bright. He was clad in only a towel, wrapped loosely around his trim waist. Hiroki, recognizing the look in the younger man's face, could tell that Nowaki did not expect to be wearing even this minimal attire for very long.
Hiroki blushed a lovely shade of pink and diverted his eyes back down to the eggs.
Nowaki was beaming with pleasure. He watched Hiro-san concentrating, as he labored over their breakfast. He was pleased to observe his lover's brow seemed relatively free from furrow this morning. Perhaps it was the panda barrettes? Regardless, the man looked crazy-adorable.
It had taken Nowaki three weeks since Hiroki's mother's visit and a fair amount of alcohol last night, to get Hiro-san to finally capitulate to his promise.
Looking at his boyfriend now, standing barefoot in their kitchen, his hair pulled back from his lovely face, making his large eyes deliciously visible; his lithe body filling out the crisp black and white satin frills of the maid's costume; Nowaki's heart was filled with happiness. (This was not the only place on the youth's tall body that was filled by this vision, however.)
Nowaki entered the kitchen and glided up behind Hiro-san.
He could see just the slightest curve of his lover's bare bottom peeking out from under the hem of the tied apron.
He could feel Hiro-san's whole body flush as Nowaki stooped and began sliding his hands over the older man's smooth legs. Nowaki had shaved them (along with a few other bits) when they were in the bath together this morning, despite Hiro-san's protests.
"Hiro-san," Nowaki had chided, "a promise is a promise, and you said I could do anything."
"Well then, just get it over with, dumb-ass!" Hiroki had finally barked in concession. "And you better not fucking nick me."
Nowaki had been very careful, employing a surgeon's precision. He could tell however, that once he got started the other man really didn't mind it that much.
Now, Nowaki's moved his skilled hands up his boyfriend's thighs and under the short, ruffled, black skirt delighting in feeling nothing but Hiro-san's tight ass underneath, as he slid his palms higher.
Then one of his hands slipped around to the front. The other, he slid from beneath the skirt, lifting it up, and placing it between the frilly top of the apron and his lover's flushed flesh. The dark-haired man palmed Hiro-san's finely muscled chest with his large, warm hand and pulled his lover back into him.
"Idiot" Hiroki mumbled, submitting to the other's ministrations, "do you want breakfast or not?"
Nowaki leaned his dark head over Hiroki's shoulder and whispered into his ear, before taking it gently between his teeth. "Well, I think there might be something else I'm hungrier for at the moment." He underscored his statement with his lower hand, giving Hiroki's cock a light squeeze.
"Pervert," Hiroki grumbled. He was trying his hardest to behave and not push away Nowaki's exquisite attentions. In fact, though he would never-ever admit it, it was kind of a relief to be freed from the burden of resistance today.
As Nowaki pushed closer against the smaller man, Hiroki could feel the youth's tented towel pressing between the cheeks of his bare backside. If he allowed himself, it felt rather lovely: the other man's desire simultaneously comforting and terribly arousing.
Just then Nowaki's cell phone, sitting out on the dining table, where the man had left it the previous night after they'd stumbled home, began ringing.
Hiroki, leaned back into Nowaki, "just ignore it," he advised.
Nowaki groaned and pulled away. "I can't Hiro-san, it might be the hospital. What if there's an emergency?"
Hiroki caught himself almost pouting, as the warmth of his boyfriend's hands left his enflamed flesh.
Hiroki was shocked by this response. He might sulk occasionally, but he made it a point to never pout. Embarrassed he sucked in his bottom lip, biting it lightly to keep it from jutting back out. He tentatively put his hand back up to his forehead. He wondered if this disconcerting development was a result of the influence of the panda barrettes?
"Oh," said Nowaki happily, looking at the number and sitting down in one of their dining-room chairs. "It's your mother."
"My mother!" Hiroki exclaimed, immediately drawing his hands up in an unconscious posture of modesty. Then his arms fell back down to his sides, his long-fingered hands clenching. "Wait a minute, why in the hell is she calling you?"
"Oh, she does that sometimes now," Nowaki answered cheerfully.
At this new revelation, Hiroki's brow furrowed for the first time that day. "Well, don't answer it, moron!" Hiroki started to shout, but it was too late.
"Ah, hello Mae… Kamijou-san," Nowaki chirped, blatantly disregarding his boyfriend's distress.
"Yes, everything is just fine here…The weather is lovely… Things at the hospital are going well... No, I have the whole day off today… I am not even working anywhere else… Ah, yes, thank you… I got that recipe that you e-mailed me yesterday… Ummmhmmm… I'm going to try it out tomorrow."
"Your son?... Yes, he's here…just a minute."
Nowaki motioned for Hiroki to come and take the phone.
Hiroki sighed. Ever since her visit, his mother had been increasingly attentive, sometimes calling him now two or three times a week. Honestly, she was getting almost as annoying his boyfriend.
The auburn-haired maid turned the burner down and came to stand next to Nowaki. As Hiroki reached for the phone, the giant grabbed him and pulled him down onto his lap; beneath him the youth began to resume his previous explorations of his lover's body.
Hiroki tried to push the other man's hands away as he took the phone. He ceased his struggles, however, when Nowaki gave him a reproving look and removed one hand long enough to shake a scolding finger at him. "You promised," he mouthed.
Hiroki sighed again and tried to settle into the tall man's lap, however Nowaki's jutting member made this a bit more complicated than normal.
"Mother, I really can't talk very long right now… I'm trying to fix breakfast."
"So late, Hiroki-kun? It's almost noon," The lady Kamijou said, her tone laced with disapproval.
"Ummm, well, Nowaki and I went out drinking last night, after he got done at the hospital, and we got home a bit late."
"Oh, the wayward lives of bachelors. Neh, Hiroki-kun?" his mother exclaimed. She had become seemingly much more accepting of her son's "single" lifestyle since her visit. "Well, I just hope you don't make a habit of such behavior. You know Mariko-san's son…"
Hiroki knew that he needed to get his mother to the point of her call and off the phone, before she launched into one of her rambling stories.
Nowaki was trailing light kisses across Hiroki's bare shoulders. His hands had found and were now teasing his older lover's very sensitive nipples.
"Yes, yes, of course mom, but what did you call for?" a squirming Hiroki asked, trying not to sound peevish. Despite his discomfort, he could not help but add, "And why are you calling on Nowaki's phone?"
"Oh, well, I tried calling yours but it was turned off," the lady Kamijou explained.
Hiroki suddenly remembered that he had turned his phone off last night, after receiving his third drunken call from Miyagi, who was lost in lamenting his most recent spat with his brat.
"Besides, I enjoy talking with Nowak…Kusama-san from time to time. He certainly provides me with a much fuller account of what's going on in my son's life than I can ever pry out of you. Anyway, I'm calling because I came across this book while I was out the other day, and I thought I remembered you mentioning to Akihiko that you were looking for it, while I was there visiting."
Hiroki inhaled deeply, trying to keep his breathing even. For the first time in his life perhaps, the professor did not have the least bit of interest in a book.
One of Nowaki's hands slipped down and took hold of the stiffness under Hiroki's increasingly disheveled skirt. "I think I found your feather duster, Miss," the dark-haired man purred into the ear of his lover that was not occupied by the phone.
"What was that?" Hiroki's mother asked "Do you have someone there cleaning for you?"
"Ummm," focus was increasingly hard for Hiroki at the moment (and that was not the only thing), "Nowaki has been interviewing housekeepers, and one left something behind I think."
"Oh, well I am pleased to hear that. With both your and Kusama-san's schedules, that seems very reasonable. It will give you more time for other things. Make sure the girl is honest though…"
As Hiroki took his next deep breath, he smelled something burning. He suddenly remembered their breakfast. "The eggs!" he groaned, cutting off his mother's description of the difficulty of finding trustworthy help.
"I'll get them," Nowaki offered, and both cruelly and blessedly for Hiroki, the man slid out from under him and headed toward the stove. Hiroki was shocked to find, however, that he was still sitting on the younger man's towel: the giant now standing completely naked in their kitchen with an idiotic smile on his face.
"Be careful you don't burn anything important," Hiroki warned.
Nowaki just flashed his lover a (literally) cheeky grin.
"Now about this book…" the lady Kamijou forged on undeterred by the seeming chaos of her son's household.
"Hiro-san," Nowaki interrupted as he went to scrape the scorched eggs into the trash. "Are you sure that you still haven't seen my favorite spatula around? I can't seem to find it anywhere. I have no idea where could have gotten to and it's been missing for ages now."
Mrs. Kamijou had never mentioned her revelations to Hiroki's father. Determined to draw her son out, regardless of the Senior Kamijou's sentiments, she had spoken with Hiroki numerous times since her visit. Each time, the weight of what remained unspoken between them had burdened her, and yet despite every opening she gave him, her son still declined to reveal himself.
Fearing just such a scenario, before she had left Hiroki, his mother had instigated, what had seemed at the time, a clever plan. But as the weeks had unfurled, she had begun to despair that her scheme had failed her.
However, now overhearing Nowaki's inquiry in the background, Mrs. Kamijou silently blessed the gods for this opening. She immediately jumped in. "Oh, Hiroki-kun," she said slyly, "I think I might know what happened to Kusama-san's spatula."
"Ah yes, it seems I put it away while I was visiting you. But I am very surprised that Kusama-san has not found it."
"That's great," Hiroki breathed, he got up a little stiffly and headed in towards the kitchen. "If you just tell me where you put it, I'll be sure to look there right now."
"I put it…" the lady hesitated.
"I put it in Kusama-san's bed… I can't believe that after three weeks he didn't find it…unless of course he's sleeping somewhere else…"
Given Hiroki's luck, Mrs. Kamijou's timing could not have been more perfect. Her son heard these words uttered by his mother, as he stood in his front room in his maid's costume, his skirt still tenting awkwardly up in the front, while he stared at the questioning expression on the sly puppy face of his naked lover in the kitchen.
Hiroki felt the world stop and his face discover a new and remarkable shade of red.
"Hiro-san," his mother said to Hiroki, using Kusama-san's name for him for the first and only time. She asked kindly, "are you sure there isn't something that you might like to tell me?"
My deep and heartfelt thanks to all of you who read and commented on this piece, I only hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have loved getting your feedback and suggestions along the way. While my next venture in the unexpurgated version of what happened in the men's room at Pandasan (lemon). I would greatly appreciate to hear from anyone who has a suggestion for what and who I might write next.
I have had a few of you inquire about a possible further exploration of Hiroki and his father's relationship and maybe an explanation of what exactly the senior Kamijou did see. If this possibility interests you, please let me know.
Also, if you would like to read about the rest of Hiroki and Nowaki's lemony play date, please read my story "The Spatula Test: Another Misplaced Citrus" rated "M."
Until the next creative frenzy begins,