He's just . . . being stealthy. Stealth is an important quality for a soldier to hone. His father would be proud.
... I can't even convince myself that that's true.
Shaking his head a bit ruefully, Conrad unlocks and pushes open the door to his chambers and allows it to falling closed heavily, stealth be damned. It has been a surprisingly good morning. He'd woken in a warm bed a bit before dawn and dressed himself in his regular uniform. It was only a bit loose, but that was enough to concern him. He'd have to step up his training routine. That was made even clearer when his run with Yuuri left him slightly winded.
Still not all the way back . . . But remembering the sleepy, tousled-looking Yozak he'd pecked on the cheek before leaving to wake their Maou took away a lot of the frustration that might have once accompanied that thought
( ... )
The rouge is a little stubborn; he'll need to scrub thoroughly with water before it'll come off. Yozak gives up on it for the time being and turns to himself in the mirror, investigating his stockings. For tight, clinging thigh-highs, they're actually quite comfortable. He picks at them, tucking some of his loose hair back up under his wig again as he thinks. He wouldn't mind wearing these to the party under his normal leggings--only to break them in, of course--but his normal leggings are already so tight, and these might just make it worse...
He hears the door opening in the sitting room, but pays no attention, opting instead to focus on his dress. It really needs to see a seamstress; his muscled chest is almost peeking out through the top. And the support isn't that great, either, considering his lack of breasts. He's made do with some leftover padding from the mission, but that will only keep it up for so long. He stares critically at his chest in the mirror and almost wishes he was back in that female body. Almost
( ... )
Conrad can't help but stare until the whore woman abruptly grabs a gold face and snaps it open in a bizarre show of modesty. He feels heat stain his cheeks and looks away. Why in the world does he feel like the one who's indecent here?
The lady of the evening shifts, sidling up towards a bedpost and Conrad turns, blushing redder at a flash of well-sculpted thigh. "Modelling. Do you like it~?"
"I . . . um . . ."
.... Thigh. He knows that thigh. And that voice. Conrad's shoulders slump and chuckles slightly at his own stupidity as he turns back to face the other man.
"Saints, Yozak, I thought you were a wh--woman. I mean, a stranger."
He's blushing. If Yozak wasn't trying so desperately to stay in character, he'd burst out laughing. Getting Conrad to blush can be a challenge sometimes, but it's always worth it.
"Saints, Yozak, I thought you were a wh--woman. I mean, a stranger."
...oh.
Yozak snaps his fan shut and drops his skirts again with what might be the makings of a pout. "Well, that's the point," he says, heading back over to the tea table to change out of his clothes. The severe heels cripple his normally confident stride, forcing him to take smaller, more lady-like steps.
That he confused Conrad is good; the brunet knows Yozak better than anyone. But Conrad wasn't fooled, and therein lies the problem. He knows that if he can just perfect his technique and fool Conrad, he can fool anyone...if he can just make his act perfect...
"What gave me away?" Yozak asks as he unzips his dress and shimmies out of it. "Hair? Chest? Voice?"
Comments 25
Reply
Reply
Really.
He's not.
He's just . . . being stealthy. Stealth is an important quality for a soldier to hone. His father would be proud.
... I can't even convince myself that that's true.
Shaking his head a bit ruefully, Conrad unlocks and pushes open the door to his chambers and allows it to falling closed heavily, stealth be damned. It has been a surprisingly good morning. He'd woken in a warm bed a bit before dawn and dressed himself in his regular uniform. It was only a bit loose, but that was enough to concern him. He'd have to step up his training routine. That was made even clearer when his run with Yuuri left him slightly winded.
Still not all the way back . . . But remembering the sleepy, tousled-looking Yozak he'd pecked on the cheek before leaving to wake their Maou took away a lot of the frustration that might have once accompanied that thought ( ... )
Reply
He hears the door opening in the sitting room, but pays no attention, opting instead to focus on his dress. It really needs to see a seamstress; his muscled chest is almost peeking out through the top. And the support isn't that great, either, considering his lack of breasts. He's made do with some leftover padding from the mission, but that will only keep it up for so long. He stares critically at his chest in the mirror and almost wishes he was back in that female body. Almost ( ... )
Reply
The lady of the evening shifts, sidling up towards a bedpost and Conrad turns, blushing redder at a flash of well-sculpted thigh. "Modelling. Do you like it~?"
"I . . . um . . ."
.... Thigh. He knows that thigh. And that voice. Conrad's shoulders slump and chuckles slightly at his own stupidity as he turns back to face the other man.
"Saints, Yozak, I thought you were a wh--woman. I mean, a stranger."
... Did he cover that up well enough?
Reply
"Saints, Yozak, I thought you were a wh--woman. I mean, a stranger."
...oh.
Yozak snaps his fan shut and drops his skirts again with what might be the makings of a pout. "Well, that's the point," he says, heading back over to the tea table to change out of his clothes. The severe heels cripple his normally confident stride, forcing him to take smaller, more lady-like steps.
That he confused Conrad is good; the brunet knows Yozak better than anyone. But Conrad wasn't fooled, and therein lies the problem. He knows that if he can just perfect his technique and fool Conrad, he can fool anyone...if he can just make his act perfect...
"What gave me away?" Yozak asks as he unzips his dress and shimmies out of it. "Hair? Chest? Voice?"
Reply
Leave a comment