Cosplay

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited (…duh…), but Kumo's costume here is of my own design. (And designing a costume like that for a guy is a major pain in the ass, let me tell you…) This oneshot's for Stormshadow13, the 100th reviewer of Kokoro no Hanashi! Thank you so much for all your support!

Rating: T

Genre: Romance. Humor. Mild citrus. Yummy yum yum…

Pairings: Cloudshipping (woohoo, OTP!)

Warnings: AU. Yaoi. Incest. Sexual content. Crossdressing. The closed-minded sort would do well to start looking for the back button now, in other words. If you fall under that category and choose to read on, don't come crying to me when you wind up scarred for life.

---

"Are you done yet?"

"A-almost, Niisama…"

Kiri sighed, settled back against the wall, and looked at his wristwatch, trying not to fidget too much. It was taking Kumo forever to get dressed.

They were going to be heading to a convention as soon as Kumo was out of the bathroom. This year, all the girls of their group would be cosplaying, and for whatever reason, they'd decided that Kumo, too, would need to dress up. Months ago, they'd ordered their costumes from some prestigious designer, and gotten them a week or so ago. Kumo'd never tried his on before, and so Kiri had never seen it. The girls had all looked mischievous and promised he'd love it when he asked them what the deal was; he'd just shrugged, knowing he could never fathom the depths of the female psyche, and let the issue drop.

And while yeah, he was curious, he also didn't want to be late. They'd catch hell from Aura if they weren't within five seconds of the planned rendezvous date.

"Kumo, what is taking you so long?" Kiri asked, fidgeting and looking towards the closed door. "Is it really that hard to get into?"

"Yes—well, no, it's just…" Kumo's voice trailed off into a mumble. "This is so embarrassing…"

"At least they swore they weren't putting you in cat ears again," Kiri said, shaking his head. "God, that was stupid. Cute, but stupid. You looked absolutely ridiculous in that outfit."

There was another indistinct mumble from behind the door, something that sounded suspiciously like a protest that Kumo's outfit this year was far worse than cat ears. Kiri made a face, rolled his eyes, and promised himself he'd have a little talk with the girls after the con was over. Dammit, couldn't they tell that their insistence that Kumo continue cosplaying in feminine outfits was uncomfortable for his brother?

"U-um. I'm, um. I'm coming out now," Kumo said, his voice wavery and nervous.

"Well, good. Maybe now we can—" But then the door clicked and Kumo walked into view and Kiri promptly forgot all about his powers of speech.

Holy fuck.

Kumo was pink in the face all the way up to his ears, and Kiri couldn't blame him. Wearing something like that—

Kiri swallowed hard. And stared. And kept staring while Kumo fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze.

The dress wasn't true black, but rather deep charcoal, and although the fabric looked rather starched and scratchy, it hugged the contours of Kumo's body, lengthening the already lean lines of his waist and shoulders and accentuating the few full curves he had. The skirt ended roughly two inches past Kumo's butt, with a wide ruffle of lace lining the hem. There was another puffy white layer of softer fabric right beneath this, a thinner dress that seemed layered beneath the top one. The shoulders of the dress were puffed out, though from the middle of Kumo's biceps down, they clung closely to his arms, ending in wide white ruffles and silk an inch past his wrists. The tightly-laced bodice was snug against Kumo's flat chest, and it ended in another delicate tracery of lace just below his collarbones.

The apron was also pristine white, made of heavier linen than the dress, and it consisted of a waistpiece and flared, ruffled straps over Kumo's shoulders. It was held in place by a wide white sash that was pulled back into a large bow just above his hips; the ends of the sash hung down a good three inches or so past the end of the skirt. The bottom of the apron ended about an inch above the skirts, and on the other side of the ruffled silk, a delicate red ribbon was threaded in a simple pattern along the hemline. A similar, though wider, red ribbon was pulled around Kumo's throat in lieu of the soft periwinkle choker he usually wore, ending in a bright, floppy bow that hung right at the center of his clavicle.

From his brown leather loafers to three-quarters of the way up his thighs, Kumo wore gauzy white hose; they were held in place by wide lacy garters, threaded through with black ribbon which connected to the thin adjustment belts that traced up his skirt.

Kiri swallowed hard, again. Oh, sweet God. It was an automatic reaction, one he couldn't help, but now was the worst time and shit he was so hard that his jeans were now too tight for him to move.

Kumo fidgeted, clasping his hands behind his back, and turned shyly in a gesture that seemed almost coquettish. "Um—Niisama, how do I… how do I look?"

As he turned, his sinfully short skirts bounced, allowing Kiri just the slightest flash of a glimpse of lacy pink.

Okay. That was it. Bye-bye, self-control. Screw it, it was Aura's fault anyway for deciding to put Kumo in a damn maid's uniform like this anyway.

In the space of two heartbeats, Kiri was across the floor with one hand fumbling at the fly of his jeans and the other up Kumo's skirt, sliding up the lacy pink silk to the garter belt over it.

Kumo grabbed the back of Kiri's shirt and moaned, and there went the rest of Kiri's reservations.

Carefully, Kiri worked Kumo's silk panties down without undoing the garter belt, and let them fall. Then he rushed in and they made vicious love hard and fast up against the wall, barely managing to avoid staining Kumo's skirts when he came into Kiri's hands. Spent and exhausted, they slid to the hardwood floors in a tangle of arms and legs, both gasping for breath.

"You look," Kiri managed at last, "absolutely fantastic."

"Mmn." Kumo nuzzled into Kiri's shoulder sleepily. "…can we go meet the others now? If we keep them waiting much longer, they'll kill us…"

"Can't do that. Think I've already died and gone to heaven," Kiri said wryly, grinning. Kumo groaned and slapped listlessly at his shoulder; Kiri just laughed. "Yeah. We can go. But let's get you cleaned up first. And, uh—we should probably make sure we're always near enough to our room so we won't be in public when the irresistible urge to jump you comes back."

Kumo made a muted sound of agreement into Kiri's shoulder, but didn't move.

As for Kiri, all he could do was shake his head.

Well, really. A maid's uniform. What the hell.

…He'd be damned if those girls hadn't planned all this from the start.

Owari.