Zayn came to your house a few days ago before Levi—asking to be your maid. Instead of wage, he insisted to be paid with only rewards & punishments—just like Zayn. Zayn & Levi were doing some chores around together. They heard you coming upstairs towards their room.

Zayn & Levi wore thin transparent provocative cloth that extends to their thighs which you particularly wanted them to wear all day. It was literally an excuse for clothing but you couldn't help yourself. You just get worked up by looking at them like that. They both wear a set of sheer, red-lined panties—embroidered with 'Guest' in elegant cursive that screams owned.

Zayn's traitorous body on full display beneath the gossamer-thin fabric. The fabric did very little to hide his soft delicious milky and muscular body, leaving very little to the imagination. As he walks around the room, the thin fabric clings shamelessly to his aroused flesh. His breath hitches slightly as a cool night air sneaks under his garment, lifting it just enough to reveal the lace edge of your named panties. He squeezes his thighs together as he tugs it uselessly downward even though they all know it hides nothing.

Levi wears a cropped mesh top that clings to his narrow waist. The back dips low, revealing the dip of his spine and the dimples just above the waistband of his panties. The deep back cutout exposes the taut slope of his backside. Silk garters grip his thick muscular thighs hard, keeping stockings snug up to where lace meets damp heat. Panties strain shamelessly around his bulge. His thighs squeezed together involuntarily, as if desperately trying to hide the growing bulge between them.

The gossamer-thin material did nothing to hide how their peaks stood hard: Zayn's pink buds pressed visibly against his top with each ragged breath he took; Levi's dark ones beaded through the mesh of his crop top like two sinful promises begging to be sucked. Their panties left little wiggle room, forcing them to adjust every so often—much to your delight. When they bent to pick something up—it was hard not to stare—and impossible not to think about how soft and round their cheeks must feel.