Kinktober Day 4: C*ckwarming (kbnz)

(Yeah, I couldn’t think of a cutesy euphemism for this and P@treon hates it when I put anything lewd in the title. Doesn’t care about the text body or the tags though, so *shrug*)

Raihan jabbed his quill down into the inkwell, and then gave a frustrated sigh. The words on the page had all begun to blur together, and there was a dryness in the back of his throat and a throbbing that had taken residence at his temples. Swiping a hand over his face, he leaned back in his chair and felt himself deflate into the plush leather.

God, but today had been long. Endless documents to sign, letters to write—a new business acquisition was ultimately good for him, but that didn’t mean it was an easy task. Contracts had to be reviewed, assets inventoried, partnerships accounted for. It was an absolute mountain of paperwork, and he’d been at it since before the sun rose. Never let a man say his money didn’t come to him through hard work and by making sure that everyone who was employed under his name got a fair share.

Still, even this was little consolation for the crick in his neck and the stiff boredom that filled his mind with what felt like dense, sodden wool. The sun was now low and pouring across the hardwood floor in rivulets of orange and…and…fuck, even poetry was beyond him for the moment.

The clock said it was nearly six in the evening. Almost time for dinner, but before that, he could afford a short break to refresh himself. Reaching over to the immense silken pull-cord stationed between his desk and the nearest window, he gave it two solid tugs to summon his head maid up to his study.

When Piers arrived some ten minutes later, pushing a little trolley loaded with a tray, teacup and saucer, teapot, and all the various strainers and trappings needed for a quick service, Raihan was laying with his head down on his elbows on his desk. Clearly, his maid had arrived just in time.

“Long day, sire?”

“You have no idea,” Raihan groaned, and then lifted his head from the protective darkness he’d covered his face in to stave off the oncoming headache.

In the sudden light, Piers looked nigh angelic as the snowy white strands of his hair caught the evening sunlight and flared redder than red, a brilliant and holy burning gold that the entire celestial choir would have bitten their tongues in jealousy over.

Ah, there was the poetry.

“You know you can tell yer worries t’ me, and I’ll keep them under my hat,” Piers prompted, and Raihan momentarily entertained the amusing thought of Piers struggling to keep a secret trapped beneath the little lacy headpiece he wore to keep his hair out of the way during his chores. If anyone could manage it, his determined maid could.

“It’s nothing terribly interesting, I’m afraid,” he began, and then gestured a sweeping hand to the piles of paper that had long since consumed the top of his desk. “Acquisitions are…a pain in the arse, for lack of a better term.”

Piers chuckled quietly at his master’s rough speech and gently poured a stream of tea through the strainer and into the fine Wedgwood cup that happened to be one of Raihan’s favourites. It was the little things like that—the sound of his muffled laughter, the fact that he’d brought that specific cup—that made Raihan glad every day he’d hired this man as his one and only head maid. Perhaps there were sterner, more stoic maids to be had in the world, or demure ones that scurried about like mice away from a lion, but none of them had even half the charms of his Piers.

When he lifted the tray, Raihan shuffled several papers out of the way so he would have somewhere to set it down, and cursed under his breath when he nearly knocked over his inkwell. Damn it. Sometimes his penchant for doing things a particularly old-fashioned way was irritating, even to himself.

“Sire, it’s high time you took a break and kept yer hands to yourself,” Piers chastised gently, and Raihan folded his hands in his lap with a schoolboy’s obedience, if only to better focus on watching what came next. He loved watching Piers prepare tea; he loved the fluttering motions of his hands, like two birds kept at the end of his arms, and he loved the delicate primness with which he picked up the cream, poured in just the right amount, and added a single small spoonful of sugar. His nails were pink and shiny, his knuckles broader than they seemed at first glance but delightfully agile, and his wrists were what assured Raihan he was truly in love. A single glimpse of this most common spot could send his heart racing and fluttering when it belonged to Piers, and his gaze was magnetised to it now as it circled in elegant motions to stir up his tea. The spoon didn’t clink against the side of the cup except for one clear note at the end, when Piers tapped away the drops of tea and set it aside.

That he could be fascinated with this quotidian action was something that itself never ceased to amaze Raihan, but that was what happened to him around Piers. He could take a dreadful, dragging, dull day and make it crystalline and new with the simplest of tasks.

“Tell me yer troubles, even if they’re boring,” he commanded, and Raihan gave an inward smirk at the peremptory tone. Others would have been irritated by Piers’ impudence, but to Raihan, it was yet another charm.

He took up the cup, gripping it delicately by the fine fluted handle, and took a sip. Hot black oolong cleared some of the dryness from his throat, and he gave another sigh, though less wearily this time. “Very well. First, I have to analyse all these trade documents going back over the past decade, and cross-reference them with the books given to me by the accountant…”

As he spoke, detailing all the tedious intricacies of his business, Piers circled around to the side of his chair and wordlessly reached around Raihan’s neck to loosen his tie. The fabric ruffled and came undone, and Raihan only paused for a moment in pleasure as cool fingertips slipped beneath his collar, then continued as they began to massage the tension from his neck and shoulders. Even if Piers probably only understood half of what he was talking about, it felt good to get it off his chest. Better, when he was doing so with the sweet taste of tea on his tongue, and better still for the clever fingers that worked the stiffness from his muscles with ease.

Piers flicked open another button, and his palms spread onto Raihan’s shoulders fully, evoking a sigh from his master’s lips. Oh, it was good to be touched. He took another long swig of his tea and set it down, leaning back to give himself over to Piers’ hands. Closing his eyes, he felt them rub over his shoulders, cupping the muscles in his back and then sliding up and over to his collarbones. They danced here, played there, lower and lower until smooth fingertips brushed his nipples.

Raihan’s eyes flew open at that, as he felt an entirely new idea for relaxation slither itself into his mind. Somehow Piers must have read his mind, because those fingers circled around his nipples a little too directly for the touch to be accidental.

“Come here,” he murmured, and beckoned Piers around in front of him with two fingers. “Step out of your shoes.”

Wordless, Piers did as he was commanded, losing an inch of height as he came down out of the little heeled shoes he worked in. Raihan took a moment to enjoy the sight of him, from his neatly pressed and buttoned white collar down the lines of his heavy maid’s dress and across the apron that had just the faintest stain on it, though one could really only see this up close. The hem hung below his knees, padded outwards by his petticoats, and Raihan hummed at the sight of his stockinged feet shifting against the floor.

“Unbutton my shirt the rest of the way.”

Again, Piers silently reached for his buttons without hesitation. But in his eyes, there was a glowing ember of interest that burned hotter with every inch revealed, the ravenousness he couldn’t hide as he laid Raihan’s chest bare.

“Lift up your skirts for me, and hold them there.”

The words echoed in the room, which was silent save for the ticking of the great grandfather clock in one corner.

Piers reached down, took the hem in both hands, and lifted it up.

Beneath was something Raihan could almost guarantee no other maid in all the country had. Imported silk panties, black as jet, framed by garters that stretched down across milky thighs to hold up the tops of stockings that were threatened by the spill of fat and muscle that bulged the tops. Raihan looked his fill with leisure, gazing first at one thigh then the other, noticing a fading bruise on the inside of one that he remembered leaving with great pleasure. Then up, right to the juncture, marked by a tiny pink bow stitched into place that he couldn’t resist flicking with the nail of his little finger.

Two fingers hooked into the strap of one garter and pulled it back, snapping it against the flesh just to hear Piers suck in a breath. Then Raihan tugged the panties out of the way unceremoniously, baring the patch of black-and-white curls that shielded the top of his favourite place in this entire wide world.

Piers trembled, but said nothing.

Raihan smirked anyway, and traced his fingers through the soft folds, coaxing them into wetness with teasing rubs of the hard clit at the front. Oh yes, his little maid had the most responsive body…

He pressed a finger in and the insides gripped him in silky, perfect heat, sheathing the digit entirely and sucking on it hungrily. Piers’ teeth were sunk into his lower lip now, hard enough to turn it white, and Raihan rewarded him with a few strokes to the front walls before pulling his finger free to a lewd slick noise.

“What a wet mouth you’ve got down here, Piers. I think it deserves a kiss, for being so obedient.”

With that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Piers’ pussy, control sizzling away as he devoured it. Lips, teeth, tongue, he used all of them and sunk deep into the creamy-hot core, licking and licking as though the source of all the world’s salvation was up his maid’s cunt. Slick flooded out as his reward and he lapped it up, lips wrapping around Piers’ cock when he wanted more. Mewls reached his ears but did nothing to slow him; it was his right to enjoy his maid’s pussy, as lord of this manor and all those within it. This was his succour, his job-well-done at the end of a long day, and Piers’ nails biting into his shoulders only acted as spurs to egg him on. Deeper, all he knew was that he had to get his tongue in deeper, and he lifted one thigh up over his shoulder to get the slick heat that kissed him back, sucking on his tongue as eagerly as any mouth had ever done.

“Master—oh, sire, sire, keep goin’…!”

The words rang in his ears, and he drew back enough to see Piers over the shaking edge of the hem still clutched in his hands. That pretty face was flushed red as roses, and all the biting had only made his lips ripe and full.

“Say my name,” Raihan growled. “Fucking scream it if you want, I don’t care.”

Then he brought the thigh he was holding up to his mouth, and laid a claiming bite there with pure primal satisfaction at the way the flesh gave beneath his teeth.

“Raihan—Raihan, Raihan please—!” Piers begged, jolting as the pain and pleasure mixed together and made everything inside him clench.

“What is it? Tell me what you want, clearly,” he answered, lips still pressed to bruised skin.

Piers swayed slightly, and Raihan grabbed a handful of his ass to steady him, kneading the flesh between his fingers. “I—I want you to keep lickin’ my pussy! Fuck, master, it’s close, I’m close, just put yer tongue back in!”

That was a wish Raihan could easily fulfil, though he paused one last time before granting it.

“I want to hear you say it when you cum. You report every orgasm to me, understand?”

Looking down, Piers could only pant and nod eagerly as Raihan leaned close once more. It didn’t take very long; Raihan knew his maid’s body inside and out, every sensitive spot was familiar to him and he could wring out needful moans and mewls with ease. It allowed him to get lost in the feeling of Piers’ body sucking and squeezing his tongue, both hands now massaging the fullness of his thighs and ass, and continuing the filthy, open-mouthed kiss to Piers’ clit. Soon enough, the shaking of the skirts around him was an audible rustling and then Piers dropped one side to clutch the back of his head, greedy and uncontrolled as he humped his master’s face in desperation.

“I’m going to cum! Raihan, sire, I’m cumming!” The shout was halfway bitten off by a moan, but Raihan hardly cared. He only gripped Piers closer, burying his entire face against his sex as it spammed and gushed against his tongue. Slick dripped against his lips and licked it up like nectar, always hungry for what only this man could provide for him.

Even when Piers slumped, Raihan was sure to clean off his pussy with a few lingering licks, and then kissed the swollen lips one last time before drawing back. Now his maid was filthy and debauched, a single droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his face as he heaved for breath. A sadistic part of Raihan reveled in it, imagining tucking his panties back into place and ordering him to return to his duties, but no. Not tonight.

Tonight he himself felt greedy, and even eating his dear maid’s pussy until he practically screamed hadn’t satisfied his rather draconic appetite.

That, and working with an erection was just damn annoying.

Leaning back in his seat once more, he patted his knee as though beckoning Piers to sit on it in a kindly way, even as his other hand reached for the front of his trousers and began to work them open.

“Would you like to help me with my work this evening? I’m certain I could finish it much faster with your assistance,” he murmured, taking his cock in hand and giving it a slow stroke.

For a moment, puzzlement crossed Piers’ flushed features, but then the realisation of what Raihan really meant struck, and he nodded once more. Turning around, he reached down and struggled with his skirts and petticoat for a moment more, then managed to hoist them high over his hips, looking back over his shoulder as he tried sweetly to figure out the positioning on his own.

The view from the back was nearly as good as it was from the front—perhaps better, it could be argued. Piers’ ass was round and firm, but still plush enough to jiggle slightly when pinched or smacked. Reaching up, Raihan found Piers’ hips beneath his skirts, and drew him back onto his lap. For a moment, Piers squirmed, and then Raihan rocked his hips and the angle caught, and he slowly began to sink into that tight, perfect heat.

Both of them let out a sigh in unison as Raihan bottomed out with little more than the force of gravity on his side, cock held snug by Piers’ pussy. The voluminous skirts settled around his waist and fluttered down the sides of the chair, and Piers’ fingers gripped the edge of his desk hard.

Humming in his contentment, Raihan wrapped his arms around his love in a tender embrace, and ground the head of his cock against the back of that soft cunt. Piers choked on a moan, but didn’t interrupt as Raihan slid his hands down over the front of the apron as though smoothing it out, then reached for his quill and ink once more.

“See, isn’t this much better? I’m certain I’ll be able to work better this way,” he teased, watching up close as the tip of Piers’ ear grew redder and redder. A tiny curl had worked its way loose from the tight ponytail he always drew his hair back into, and Raihan couldn’t resist lipping at it for a second before pushing it back in with its fellows.

Piers let out a shaky breath, and turned partway to look over his shoulder. “Well, sire, I suppose you’d have t’ do actual work in order to prove that hypothesis.”

Raihan pulsed inside him at the challenge. Pressing Piers slightly into the wood of the desk, Raihan reached around him once more and took up a random piece of paper. Ah yes, an invoice he needed to draft. Wonderful. He pulled it closer, ran through a few quick calculations in his head, and then began writing.

His quill scratched against the page, and Piers’ breath slowly became longer, deeper. Every so often his body would clench, gripping the length inside it, but then the moment would pass and Piers would settle and soften once more. The clock ticked, and papers rustled as Raihan shuffled them around, searching for another document he needed to cross-reference.

By the time he was finished with the invoice, Piers was leaned back against his shoulder, body slack as he floated in the blissful relaxation he sometimes reached when his body had been overstimulated. Absently, Raihan flexed his hips into the warmth that now surrounded him and earned a faint whine, but Piers was far past words at the moment.

And they could have continued like that, if a knock hadn’t come at the door.

It was one of the newer maids, who shyly slipped into the room and gave a shaky curtsy that resulted in her nearly stumbling into the doorframe. Piers tensed, and Raihan felt his insides clench like an iron vise at the interruption—but the maid seemed completely unaware of what was going on, too wrapped up in her own embarrassment at having tripped.

“I—er, sire, the cook would like me to ask what you’d be preferring for dinner tonight, the lamb or the chicken,” she managed after righting herself, and Raihan offered a nigh-beatific smile over Piers’ shoulder.

If she noticed anything was off about the head maid perched in their master’s lap, cheeks stained red and fingers white-knuckled on the desk, she said nothing about it. Or perhaps she was just truly oblivious to the situation, which was covered neatly by Piers’ skirts. Only inches of fabric between them and being seen, and if she decided to pay much more attention, she might notice how Piers was already squirming. He was already so close, on edge just from the prospect of being discovered, and yet was helpless to do or say anything to ease it.

“I’ll have the chicken, I think. And if he could bring up a bottle of Viognier from the cellar, that would be absolutely divine. Thank you, Clarissa.” Every word was smooth and utterly unaffected, even as he felt his cock pulsing from where it was lodged deep inside Piers, and being squeezed frantically in response. Wetness rushed down around his shaft and Piers made a faint choking noise, trembling, but Raihan only shifted him in his lap and gave Clarissa a politely dismissive tilt of his head.

For a split second, there was a glint of recognition in her eyes as they met his, but then she turned and hurried out of the room, duty more important than any untoward discoveries she might have been making. The door clicked closed behind her, and Raihan clamped a hand over Piers’ mouth to keep any moans from pouring out.

“Cum,” he ordered simply, and Piers did. The vibrations of his moan echoed against Raihan’s palm, and his body spasmed deliciously as his orgasm went on and on, until all he could do was slump forward against the desk. Pleasure had rendered him boneless and pliant, mind spinning hazily as he twitched in the aftershocks, which was all the better for Raihan to start thrusting into.

Every stroke of Raihan’s hips was languid and lazy now that Piers had no resistance left to give, simply enjoying the wet sounds echoing from underneath the voluminous skirts and the way Piers whimpered whenever he thrust particularly deep. Ah, but there was nothing better than enjoying his maid’s tight body, chasing his own pleasure as he felt his own end winding up inside his gut. This was a lord’s right, to enjoy the things that were the issue of his house. To slake his lusts in a willing, hot little hole and hear his name murmured dizzily, though Piers was too exhausted to do much more than that.

When he came, it was with a contented grunt and the clock chiming the hour behind him, making a mess to drip down his maid’s stockings later as he went about his duties. Pleasure blurred out the day’s frustrations, dulling them down to nothing more than petty irritations, all insignificant in the face of getting to do this as much as he pleased. Every pulse of cum into the waiting cunt that milked it out was a layer of stress off his mind, until he felt nothing more than a blissful peace as he sat with Piers still sprawled in his lap.

For several minutes, there was nothing but panting and a wet, postcoital quiet that filled every warm corner of the office. Then Raihan stood, slowly pulling out of Piers and plucking his panties back into place, before smoothing down his skirts with one hand. He paused, admiring the mess of Piers’ hair spread out on the papers strewn across his desk, and the blue eyes that blinked up at him through the daze of sated lust.

“Come along, we wouldn’t want to be late for dinner,” he said, and began to stroll towards the door.

Nothing like an afternoon’s company to unwind.