The Return of Lord Raihan and Maid Piers (Kinktober WIP)

((I’m gonna be honest with y’all I’m moving countries right now and working my ass off so a loooot of stuff is going to be kinktober WIPS/snippets. Please bear with me.))

“You know you can tell yer troubles 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.”