Title: Dress Up
Characters: Midorima/Takao
Summary: When Takao asks, he says yes.
Notes: There was this prompt over at knb_kink on Dreamwidth for Midorima in a corset, and, well, it just spoke to me. 3626 words of Midorima in a corset and related accoutrements and the smut that follows from that.

Dress Up

He has never felt this ridiculous in his entire life, and that includes the time that Oha Asa's lucky item of the day was a tiara and he'd been caught actually wearing it (only because he'd had both hands full with other things and not because he was a pretty, pretty princess, no matter what the caption that Aomine had put on the picture when it had gone around Facebook said).

Takao thumps on the bathroom door. "Are you done yet? Do you need help? Can I help? Please?"

The hell of it is that he sounds eager rather than amused at Shintarou's pending embarrassment. Perhaps that makes sense, since this is all Takao's fault. You should try it, he'd said. It's fun, he'd said. You totally have the legs to pull it off, he'd said.

Please, he'd said.

Shintarou opens his eyes and tries to avoid his reflection in the mirror. "I think I've changed my mind. I don't think I want to do this anymore." The problem is that the mirror is a large one, and the bathroom is fairly compact, and he can't get away from his reflection, not easily. It's right there, and he looks stupid, too tall and teetering on the high heels he's strapped around his ankles. The corset is dark against his skin and curves to a sharp point right over his breastbone. It would probably frame things nicely if someone who actually possessed breasts were wearing it.

The less said about the garter belt, and the panties, and the stockings, the better, as far as Shintarou is concerned.

Takao goes quiet on the other side of the door. It's usually not a good sign when that happens. Shintarou closes his eyes again and tries to get a decent breath of air—it's difficult when the corset is squeezing his diaphragm and ribs—and braces himself. It's still worse than he'd expected it to be, because all Takao says is this: "Okay." He doesn't even have the decency to sound disappointed. Just matter-of-fact, as though he hasn't spent the better part of a week trying to coax Shintarou into trying this for him and didn't just sound excited to jump in and lend a hand.

Damn it.

Shintarou reaches for the door before he can think better of it, before he can second-guess himself, and yanks it open. On the other side, Takao looks startled, at least for a moment, before his jaw drops open and he rakes his eyes over Shintarou from head to toe and back up again. "Oh, Shin-chan," he says, more reverent than Shintarou would have ever expected him to be. "Look at you."

"Do I have to?" Shintarou asks, in spite of himself.

Takao glances up—and up a little more—at him and smiles. "Guess not, long as you don't mind me looking."

His face feels hot; he crosses his arms in front of himself. "I look ridiculous."

"You don't," Takao says instantly. "You look like a walking wet dream, Shin-chan."

Shintarou has to glance aside from how earnest he is. "Takao—"

"You really do." Takao's voice drops, turning softer. Coaxing. "Come out of there and let me get a good look at you? Please?"

"I can't believe I let you talk me into these things," Shintarou says, uncrossing his arms and taking the first tottering steps out of the bathroom.

Takao walks backward as he does, keeping his eyes fixed on Shintarou as they move out into the bedroom, and he grins at that. "I can't believe you let me either," he confesses, and makes a faintly worshipful sound as he looks Shintarou over again. "Damn, you look fantastic."

"You're crazy," Shintarou says, though this is not news to either of them. He wobbles another step, and another, and stops before he breaks an ankle. There must be some trick to walking in high heels without doing one's ankles a mischief, but he has no idea what it might be. "Now what?"

Takao blinks at him and repeats that as though he doesn't understand. "What do you mean, now what?" He steps closer and runs his fingers along one of the stays of the corset, following it up and touching the curve that would, if Shintarou were a woman, frame his breast. "What do you think happens now?"

"I take all this stuff off and we never speak of it again?" Shintarou tries. He can't quite help the way his voice is dropping; he's been conditioned to respond to it when Takao looks at him in that particular way.

"But you just put it on," Takao murmurs. He slides his thumb up and circles it over Shintarou's nipple, slow. A shiver runs down Shintarou's spine, but that's surely only because he's extremely underdressed. "Be a shame to undo all that work so soon." He sets his other hand at Shintarou's waist.

Shintarou tries to take a deep breath, but the corset won't let him—that must be why he's so dizzy all of a sudden. He says Takao's name, shivering again as Takao rubs his thumb back and forth, and is acutely conscious of the way his body wants to respond to Takao's touch. Is responding, if he's honest about it.

Takao looks up at him and smiles. "You're so pretty like this, Shin-chan." He leans in and presses his mouth to the hollow of Shintarou's throat; the flick of his tongue is soft and hot and makes Shintarou suck in another of those too-shallow breaths. "I could just eat you up." He runs his hand down and plays with the line of the garter belt where it crosses Shintarou's hip, following it around to stroke his hand over Shintarou's rear and play with the edge of the panties. Shintarou swallows hard at the way that feels, shockingly intimate in spite of the fact that it's not as though they haven't slept together more times than he can count. "How about it?"

Shintarou isn't entirely sure what the question is, but it's Takao doing the asking and that makes it easy. "I suppose, if you insist."

It's the right answer, because he can feel Takao smiling against his throat. "You really are the best," he says, kissing the hollow of Shintarou's throat. He strokes his hands over the corset; they're warm even through the layers of silk. They're reassuring, too, when Takao settles them on his hips, steadying him. Takao kisses him again and follows his hands, dropping into a crouch, and oh. Oh, that's what he was asking.

Shintarou takes a breath that shudders in his throat and doesn't do anything to relieve his dizziness as Takao smiles up at him, and catches at Takao's shoulders. "Takao," he says, helpless and hoarse, as Takao leans in and nuzzles him right through the panties. The sight is enough to drive a spike of arousal right through him; he grips Takao's shoulders and pants for breath as all the blood in his body drives straight to his cock.

Takao smiles at him and does it again, nuzzling against the obscene shape Shintarou's cock makes inside the panties. His breath is hot through the silk, which slips and rubs over Shintarou's skin, sending sensation rippling through him. He grips Takao's shoulders, panting for breath against the tight grip of the corset, and groans when Takao parts his lips and mouths him, hot and wet, until the silk is molded to him and he is trembling, caught up in the dizzy sensation. He doesn't even realize what Takao is doing with his fingers until he lifts his mouth away and the scrap of silk flutters free—the ties at his hip, Takao has undone them, baring him. It's less embarrassing than it ought to be, because that means Takao can lean in and wrap his mouth around Shintarou again, hot and wet, and slide it all the way down with nothing between them. Shintarou groans, shuddering over Takao, barely able to stand in the heels and his head swimming with oxygen deprivation and the heat of Takao's mouth around him, Takao's throat working around the head of his cock as he hums, and he comes just like that, bracing himself against Takao's shoulders and shaking as pleasure cascades through him, long merciless waves of it sweeping him down. In the end Takao has to hold him up as he shakes, dizzy and breathless, until the sensation finally begins to subside.

Takao watches as he comes down, his eyes dark and hot, and smiles at him. "So pretty," he says, mouth red and wet, as Shintarou tries to catch his breath. "Can it be my turn now?"

There's really only one possible answer to that. "Yes," Shintarou says, and watches Takao's smile stretch wider.

Even though he's asked for his turn, Takao doesn't seem to be in any hurry to take it. He slides his thumbs over Shintarou's hips, tracing the hollows of them and teasing along the lacy trim of the garter belt. If anything, he looks thoughtful, which is always a dangerous look for Takao. A thoughtful Takao is a creative Takao, after all.

"You know," he says as he runs his fingers down one of the garters and touches where it clips onto the top of Shintarou's stockings, "This is a really good look for you." He strokes the bare skin just above the stocking, touching it lightly; Shintarou finds himself catching a breath as the brush of Takao's fingertips makes him shiver again. "It's like a frame, really. When you think about it."

A frame for what, Shintarou thinks, before he catches the sly tilt of Takao's smile and gets it. "Takao!" His scandalized tone only makes Takao laugh. "That's filthy."

"And also very, very true." Takao slides his fingers up the inside of Shintarou's thigh; the calluses on his fingers drag just a little bit on Shintarou's skin. It shouldn't feel good but it does, good enough that Shintarou sets his teeth against his lip and still gasps a little. He's only just gotten off, for pity's sake, there's no way he should be able to respond to Takao again so soon.

For some reason, his body seems not to have gotten that memo.

Takao cups his hand between Shintarou's legs, gentle with him as he fondles Shintarou's cock, still sensitive from before, and weighs Shintarou's balls in his palm. Shintarou hisses between his teeth at the sensation, which hovers on the edge of what he can bear. "I wish you could just see yourself, Shin-chan." He sounds dreamy; he's gazing at Shintarou like he's utterly fascinated by him. "You're so fantastic."

"You really are crazy," Shintarou tells him, hoarse, shuddering as Takao touches him, stroking him so, so slowly and carefully. Takao has to be out of his mind. Just listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

"If you say so." Takao smiles at him, amiable, and leans forward to press a kiss against the soft skin of Shintarou's stomach, just below the edge of the garter belt. "You're still amazing." He plants another kiss at the base of Shintarou's cock, feather-light; the brush of his breath makes Shintarou shiver. "Come to bed, Shin-chan."

Shintarou can't keep himself from grimacing; that means walking a few more steps in these shoes. Takao laughs softly and stands. "Allow me," he says, offering the crook of his elbow to Shintarou.

"Sometimes I really don't know why I put up with you," Shintarou says, but he sets his hand in Takao's elbow anyway. It's better than falling over, at any rate, but he's still glad when they reach the bed and he can sit down.

He starts to slip his feet out of the heels, but Takao stops him. "Don't," he says, fingers light on Shintarou's shoulder. "Leave them on for me? Please?"

Shintarou looks up at him. "I thought we were going to bed." That certainly seems to be Takao's goal, at any rate.

Takao just smiles, even as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. "I want you to wear them while I'm fucking you," he says, and even though it sounds cheerful, he has an intent, hungry look in his eyes.

"You are ridiculous." And he is ridiculous, so ridiculous that Shintarou has no idea why he indulges him sometimes.

But he leaves the shoes on anyway.

Shintarou leans back on his hands while Takao undresses and tries not to think about the picture he must make like this, waiting for his lover in the corset that keeps him from being able to slouch and the garter belt and stockings (like a frame, at least according to Takao). At least Takao seems to appreciate it, because he stops for a moment and just looks down at Shintarou, gazing at him with such an openly gratified expression that it's almost as embarrassing as the things Shintarou is wearing to please him. "Well, come on," he says after a moment of being ogled. "What are you waiting for?"

Takao laughs, softly, even as he sets his hands on Shintarou's shoulders and presses him back, down against the sheets as he kneels over him. "I want to be sure I remember how you look, later," he says, right before he kisses Shintarou, stroking his tongue between Shintarou's lips.

The implications of that are too much to consider, at least right now, so Shintarou doesn't. He lifts his hands and strokes them through Takao's hair and down the curve of his spine instead, sucking on Takao's tongue and shivering as Takao sets a hand against his chest. Takao touches him lightly, teasing his fingertips over the top edge of the corset and circling them around his nipples. Shintarou is not a woman and that shouldn't be as exciting as it is, somehow, like this. None of this should be as exciting as it is, which only goes to show that Takao really is a master of upending all of Shintarou's expectations.

Takao hums against his mouth and kisses his throat again, slow and wet, until Shintarou can feel the tingle of a mark beginning to rise there, just above the point where his collar will be able to hide it. "Takao," he says, meaning for it to come out aggravated and somehow not managing it at all.

Takao doesn't even pretend to be apologetic, though he does lap at the spot delicately. "Just a little something to remember this by later," he murmurs as he trails his mouth down further, and then sucks another mark against Shintarou's collarbone.

Shintarou threads his fingers through Takao's hair, breathing deeper—as deeply as he can against the constraint of the corset—and does not say anything at all to that as Takao marks him again, over the hollow of his throat.

Takao really doesn't seem to be in any mood to hurry himself, even though he's hard and ready—there was no disguising that as he was undressing, not that he bothered trying. He touches Shintarou slowly, stroking him through the corset and running his hands over the line of the garter belt and the garters, smoothing his hands over Shintarou's thighs and spreading them apart as he plays with the lacy edges of the stockings. By the time he slides his hands up and cups Shintarou's ass, Shintarou really is getting hard again himself, breathing faster with the curl of arousal as Takao kisses his chest. He groans with relief, arching beneath Takao at the solid edge of the stretch and ache of his muscles when Takao finally dips slick fingers between his thighs and presses them in.

He only realizes that Takao is watching him again when Takao says, hushed, "So pretty, Shin-chan." He's raised his head and is leaning over Shintarou, studying him closely he might watch an opponent as he works his fingers in and out, twisting them slowly. He smiles as Shintarou groans with the starburst of sensation and does it again, humming something pleased between his teeth as Shintarou sets his fingers against his back, digging them in as sensation sings up his spine.

It's easier not to be embarrassed when the heat is closing on him again, easier to say Takao's name and let his hips move with the stroke of Takao's fingers, and easier to wet his lips and say, "Come on already." Which may have been half Takao's goal in taking his time, perhaps.

Takao leans down to kiss him again, slow and deep, until Shintarou's lips feel tender with it, before he finally slides away again, slipping off the bed and onto his feet. The sound he makes when he slicks his fingers again and moves them over his cock seizes Shintarou's attention and holds it—Takao touches himself slowly, carefully, biting his lip and moaning with it shamelessly as Shintarou stares at him, struck silent by the sight of him. Takao grins at him when he raises himself up on his elbows to look. "Just see what you're doing to me," he says, and laughs when Shintarou grimaces (but does not look away).

"Just get on with it," Shintarou tells him.

Takao laughs again. "All right." He leans over Shintarou again to stroke his hands down his thighs. Shintarou lets him spread them, but it makes his breath catch, sharp in his throat, when Takao holds them, spreading them wide as he steps between them, until Shintarou feels as though he's bent in two for Takao and the first sharp stretch of it as Takao sinks into him. He gasps, panting for breath and dizzy with it and the way Takao holds him, with the way he can see his own stockinged legs framing Takao's shoulders and the arch of his feet in the ridiculously high heels that he's still wearing. Takao groans as he leans over Shintarou, poised and still, expression transparent as he stares down at Shintarou. "Shintarou," he says then, soft and awed. "Oh, Shintarou."

There's something about the way that Takao says that, his name bare on Takao's lips, that is almost too much to bear. Shintarou shudders and twists his hands in the sheets over his head, trembling with how intimate the moment is. "Yes," he says, just as he always does when Takao asks, and groans when Takao begins to move, rocking against him. It's already nearly too much to stand, sensation rippling through him with every shift of Takao's cock as it slides in and out of him; Shintarou grips the sheets and gasps with every shift, lightheaded and nearly helpless to do anything but take it as Takao fucks him slowly. Takao's grip is as steady as the way he watches Shintarou, focused on him as he moves, murmuring his name on every stroke until the unceasing husky whisper of his voice twines around Shintarou like another touch, twisting the pleasure to the breaking point. Shintarou cries out as he comes, thin and breathless as his orgasm breaks over him like a wave, wringing him out until he can't even breath beneath the weight of it as he shudders in Takao's uncompromising grip. Takao follows after him, tipping over the edge in almost the same moment, and the exultant sound he makes over Shintarou settles somewhere behind his breastbone, glowing and warm.

Afterwards, Shintarou rests against the sheets, shuddering and breathless, too undone to move himself even after Takao eases free of him and releases him, settling his feet against the floor carefully. It's Takao who begins the task of cleaning up the mess, which is just as well—Shintarou feels too exhausted to move, too dazed in the aftermath to do anything but lie still and blink at the ceiling.

It takes him a little while to catch on to what Takao is doing, why he feels Takao's fingers against his thighs and ghosting down his legs, playing over his ankles. It's not until Takao lifts one of his feet from the floor and removes the shoe from it that he catches on: Takao is undressing him. He makes a sound, something inarticulate and hoarse in his throat.

"Shh." Takao removes the other shoe and eases the stockings off, reaches up and coaxes the garter belt off as well, and then begins unlacing the corset.

Shintarou sucks in a deep breath, the first one he's taken in ages, and sighs it out again in relief. Takao pauses briefly in what he's doing, then goes back to unlacing the corset. He does most of the heavy lifting to get it out from beneath Shintarou, and helps him move and settle in bed properly before curling up with him. He rests his head against Shintarou's shoulder and settles a palm against his bare chest. "Thank you," he says, after a bit, soft against Shintarou's shoulder. "That was amazing."

It takes a fairly immense amount of Shintarou's will to summon the energy to wrap his arm around Takao's shoulders and settle him closer. "It wasn't horrible," he says after a moment, which is almost as much as he will admit to. Almost. As Takao laughs silently against his shoulder, he adds, "I suppose we can do it again sometime. If you like."

Takao goes still against him, then raises his face to look at him, eyes gone wide. "Shin-chan," he breathes as a delighted smile blooms across his face. "Really?"

Shintarou looks away, though he suspects it won't do any good. Takao really does know him much too well. "I suppose."

Takao laughs again, open and happy, and coaxes his face back around for a kiss. "You're the best," he says against Shintarou's mouth, and no amount of grumbling on Shintarou's part is able to change his mind about that.

end

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