(Is he?) "I just feel really dumb to make one stupid mistake and then fuck everything else up," he says. "I'm sorry. We're supposed to be having a good time today." 

"I don't think you have prevented us from having a good time. I think it's pretty difficult to prevent me from having a good time while I'm snuggled up cozily in bed with you."

"Well, I'm glad you're having a good time, at least," he says with a small smile. John, admittedly, meant something else, or at least more, or more interesting, or something beyond just snuggles. (He doesn't want to waste the time he has alone with her now, not since she just enslaved herself to him.) But if she's still at least doing okay, well, that's probably okay then, right? (Right?) 

"You may be preventing yourself from having a good time, in which case, how can I help with that?"

How can she help? "Not sure," John says reflexively. "I mean... I don't know." What would help? Not having fucked up? Not thinking about having fucked up constantly? "Maybe we should try doing something else?" 

"What would you like to do? Should we go have breakfast?"

"Breakfast could be good," John says. And then he has a thought, and another. And blushes. "Could be, um, very good, actually." 

"Oh?"

John grins shyly. (How is he suddenly distracted with this when just seconds ago he was having difficulties? Whatever, don't question it, just go with it.) "Um, you mentioned something about getting maid outfits a while ago?" he says, thinking about the more complicated version of what he's thinking about. "Though I guess you probably don't have any yet actually. Which is, um, fine too." He's not being very suave at the moment, damnit. (It's okay, it's fine. Probably.) 

"Ooh. I am tragically bereft of maid outfits, yes. What would you like me to do if I had one?"

John buries his face in Rosy again, but he's grinning. "Um, serve me food, with breasts, um, all," he gestures a curve in the air above his head but has no idea if she can see or understand what he's getting at. "Nearly spilling out your top," he summarizes. "And then when served, um, get under the table and um, help me enjoy breakfast? With your mouth?" His voice has gone up into a bit of a squeaky register at the end there. "Also for whatever reason you have a French accent, though you don't have to do that." 

"Note to self," she says, scribbling on an imaginary notepad, "practice a French accent for sexual purposes."

Rosy hopefully can't see John blushing about that, but he totally is. "Thanks," he says. 

"Now, granted I don't have a maid outfit yet, but if you'd like me to serve you breakfast and then serve you at breakfast, that can certainly be arranged." She kisses him on the cheek. "Master."

He picks up his head, embarrassed but smiling. "I think I might like that," he says. "To... the kitchen, then? Is the house gonna serve us food again?" Last night was really impressive but he might not want a giant to-do like last night. (Though he is looking forward to more meals like that. Just not all the time.) (Also if the house serves food it's gonna make it hard, or at least weird for Rosy to do so.)

"I bet I can convince it to let me carry a tray."

He smiles. "You don't have to if you don't want to." He doesn't want to make things weird or awkward, for her or for the house. 

"It sounds like fun! And it would make you happy and I like making you happy. Hmm, under this scheme when should I eat breakfast?"

Oh. He didn't think of that. "Um, I'm not sure, actually," he says. "Maybe before? Unless the house wants to give us food together or something? Do, um, servants," he shrinks a little at calling her that (even though it's incredibly accurate at the moment it still feels bad to call her that) "eat before or after their, um, masters?" 

"You know, I'm not actually sure what the traditional way is... I think it might make sense if I run ahead to the kitchen and eat something while we're making up your tray, and then, hmm, how would you feel about me bringing you breakfast in bed, actually? Or in the master suite sitting room, for better blowjob logistics?"

Oh he didn't even think of that. He's so glad Rosy is so clever (and extra glad she belongs to him). "That works for me," he tells her. "I do like the prospect of breakfast in bed, admittedly, but yeah I'm not so sure about the, um, blowjob logistics," he grins at her phrasing. "I can wait for you in there, does that sound good?" He should probably hit the bathroom first, actually, but he can do that while he's waiting. 

"Absolutely." She kisses him on the cheek. "...also it will make the 'are you ready to serve me' into a pun, which delights me."

...right, he really shouldn't forget that this time (damnit). He keeps the feelings of memory and dismay off his face, and grins instead. "It will, won't it," he says. "That is delightful."

"Do you want to say it now, or when I appear with my tray? I think either way works."

It's funnier to do when she comes back, thinking about it, but she's right that it works either way. And he really doesn't want to forget. (Plus it might make things flow a little bit better when she comes back.) "Are you ready to serve me?" he asks, smiling.