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Dressing Down

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It was all that stupid Tachibana's fault. Tokito scowled as he stormed down the hallway, torn between getting as far from Kubota as he could and staying near him to fend off any unwanted admirers.

"Nice legs," Ohtsuka said, loudly, as they passed. His friends sniggered and one of them whistled.

"Shut the HELL UP," Tokito yelled, and made to take a swing when an arm around his waist pulled him back. "Kubo-chan, let me go!"

"Without our armbands?" Kubota asked. Tokito slumped back into Kubota's arms, defeated. The last time they'd acted without them caused more problems than hitting Ohtsuka was worth.

"Let's just get back the club." Tokito grabbed Kubota's hand and practically dragged him the rest of the way.

"Problems, Tokito?" Kubuta asked. Tokito sighed and ignored the question. Kubota was baiting him and he wasn't going to respond. He wasn't. "You seem…flustered."

"Shut up, Kubo-chan and hurry the hell up. I know you can move your ass faster than that." Tokito grumbled, ignoring how he wasn't going to respond and instead focusing on getting somewhere he could yell at Kubota properly.

"Speaking of my ass, are you sure you want me to move any faster?" Kubota asked pleasantly and Tokito had to stop himself from slamming his own head against the wall. Luckily, they had reached the club room, blissfully empty, and went inside.

As soon as the door slid shut, Tokito allowed himself to relax a little. Classes had just started and no one would be there for a while.

Kubota sat down in the chair, lit up a cigarette, and put his feet on the table. Normally, Tokito would be completely unfazed by this. Today, however, it was different. Everything was all wrong and he was going to kill Tachibana and that stupid president of his.

Tachibana claimed that since that it was their duty to protect the safety all school members, they were responsible for making sure the fashion club's little runway show went off without a hitch. Tokito thought they could do that perfectly fine by observing, but no. Tachibana said at least one of them had to participate. Katsuragi would have been perfect, being a girl and all, but no. She had to have a doctor's appointment that day. Everyone else was too useless and there was no way the magnificent Tokito was getting in a goddamned dress. But that didn't mean Kubota had to either. And why did the skirt have to be so fucking short? What was this, a host club?

"Stop that!" Tokito yelled, blushing, and tried not to look at Kubota. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the hem of the skirt hit the curve of Kubota's ass. This was not fair, not at all. There was still at least four hours before they could go home.

"Stop what, Tokito?" Kubota was smiling around the cigarette in his mouth. A perfectly delighted mocking smile.

"And where the hell are your boxers?" Tokito felt the heat in his cheeks worsen as his words echoed in the room.

Kubota shifted his legs, allowing the skirt to fall further toward his waist, exposing more of his thighs. "Looking up my skirt? I didn't realize you were such a pervert, Tokito."

"ME?" Tokito yelled, stunned. "YOU'RE THE PERVERT!"

Kubota got to his feet and made his way across the room to where Tokito was trying to become a part of the wall. "Yeah, I am a pervert."

"I know you are."

"So, this shouldn't come as a surprise." Kubota's voice was in his ear and breath on his neck.

"What shouldn't?" Tokito asked, despite himself. He gazed at the clock and counted forever and a fucking day before they could go home, finally.

"This," Kubota replied, and began unbuckling his pants. Tokito's eyes widened, but any refusal was swallowed by Kubota's mouth as it clamped over his.

Tokito only spent a moment considering the consequences before he decided everyone else could fuck themselves and he'd just… Kubota maneuvered him over toward the table in the center of the room. Back flat on the hard surface, Kubota crawled over him, and finished tugging down his trousers and pants so they hung off his left leg. Tokito grabbed at the loose hem of Kubota's silky shirt and tore it as he pulled Kubota towards him. He sucked at the familiar spot on Kubota's collarbone, always just hidden by never-fully button school shirts.

The familiar sensation of Kubota's knuckles against his cock drew his attention to Kubota's skirt. He stared, transfixed, knowing that underneath was the sight of Kubota preparing himself. He pulled Kubota down by his neck and kissed him, hard, biting at Kubota's lips with his teeth. The scent of their lube drifted up to his nose and he pulled back. "Just where the hell were you carrying that?"

"My bra," Kubota whispered in his ear. Tokito had a few follow up questions to that, but decided they could wait until later, much later. He pulled the rest of the shirt open, not caring that he'd destroyed it, and stared in fascination at the small, pink lace bra Kubota was wearing. It shouldn't be hot. Kubota was a boy, bigger than him, even, and he had nothing that could even slightly resemble a feminine figure.

Tokito tugged at it and blinked as a condom fell out of one of the cups. "Freak."

"I'm the freak?" Kubota said, taking the condom off Tokito's chest and put it on Tokito's cock. "Who's doing a guy in a skirt?"

Before Tokito could protest the erroneous logic of the statement, Kubota slowly lowered himself on Tokito's cock. He sucked in a breath as he was slowly consumed by Kubota's tight heat. He grabbed Kubota's hips and slowed him down, making sure that he didn't hurt himself. "Ungh."

Kubota tugged at Tokito's shirt, pulling him up until he was near sitting. He had to place one hand behind him on the table to prevent himself from falling back down. Kubota gasped, hips bucking hard and fast at the change of angle, and Tokito felt the heat blaze through his whole body. Sex with Kubota was all-consuming, drowning out everything around him until it was just Kubota, Kubota, Kubota. He moved his right hand off Kubota's hip, slowly rubbing it along his back until he reached the nape of Kubota's neck. Tugging him down, Tokito demanded a kiss, and another, until his face was wet with them.

"Kubo-chan," Tokito breathed out, not caring if he sounded needy or desperate. Kubota chuckled in his ear, the feel of the hot breath against his skin sending him over the edge. He let Kubota's neck go and slid his hand under the skirt, stroking Kubota only a few times before he came.

"The fashion club was expecting this outfit back," Kubota said, panting, giving him a lazy smile as he gestured to the wrecked shirt and rumpled, stained skirt. "What should I tell them?"

"Blame it on Fujiwara. That little freak would love to get his hands on something of yours," Tokito replied, trying not to blush as the reality of what they had just done in the clubroom came crashing down on him.

"Hmmm," Kubota hummed in agreement. "He is quite persistent."

"That's only because someone doesn't just come out and tell him that there's nothing of yours that he can have." Tokito grumbled half-heartedly. He still hadn't the energy to move, so he busied himself watching Kubota change out of the shreds of the dressy stuff and back into his normal clothes.

Kubota smiled, and turned to him. "Perhaps someone should just tell him that someone already owns it all."

Tokito looked at Kubota, surprised. He'd just assumed that Kubota didn't want anyone to know they weren't just good friends. No one had any clue about them and he thought that Kubota wanted it that way. The bell rang, cutting off any actual discussion. "Perhaps."

Just as Kubota finished buttoning his shirt, the door slid loudly open. Fujiwara came in, avidly looking for Kubota, immediately disappointed to find him dressed as normal. "Kubota-senpai, where's the dress?"

"Oh, just give it up," Katsuragi said, coming in behind him. Her face was slightly red, as if she'd run all the way there from her doctor's appointment.

"Just get back?" Kubota asked, pleasantly, ignoring Fujiwara's wailing about missed opportunities to see something good.

Katsuragi looked briefly between him and Kubota, face still flushed. "Um. Yeah. J-just now."

Women were always so weird. Tokito ignored her, and focused on getting that little Fujiwara creep to stop trying to hump Kubota's leg like a dog. "STOP TOUCHING KUBO-CHAN!"


Katsuragi sighed. "I should have joined the knitting club."