Hey folks! Its been an incredibly long time since I've written anything viewfinder; but id like to present to you- Suited Saviour! It might not be as raunchy as you'd expect (especially if you read my last one) but I'm going for a little something different here. I will also be going through my old fic to re-vamp it at some point.
Rated M for: violence (duh), Gay (also duh), and hints at S&M (especially duh) if you are anti slash then I think you might be in the wrong place...
Takaba Akihito was running for his life.
His latest lead had dropped him straight into this fucking mess. Damn it! His camera swung wildly around his neck as he pumped his arms faster. He didn't dare look behind him. He had been staking out the entrance to a high class brothel, that was disguised as an 'escort service', in the hopes of snapping a few incriminating photos of a well-known, and quite influential, politician. His information had indicated that the man frequented the establishment; using tax payers money, of course. Takaba had taken plenty of exceptionally damning photographs, but when he had moved to leave he had shifted precariously and made a noise; alerting the sharp eared grunt that was currently chasing him down like a hound after a fox.
He huffed as he quickly changed direction and ran as fast as he could across a huge empty car park, next to an abandoned dock. He knew the place relatively well since a few mobsters, and a slew of other dubious characters, often used it to make exchanges and conduct their nefarious dealings; he had staked out the place a handful of times for a scoop. If he wasn't so out of breath he would have smirked; you'd think they'd learn, right? He had even seen Asami here once when he'd been stalking him for the day, though it hadn't seemed like his favoured choice of location. It's not 'stalking', he corrected himself. Following mobsters was his job, damn it! Although, he couldn't deny that he hadn't taken a single picture of the tyrant.
Takaba dodged left swiftly, ducking into a warehouse. He skirted silently around the boxes, covered in dusty plastic wrap and tarpaulin, until he was out of view. He huffed in a few desperate breaths before his pursuer could get close enough to the warehouse to hear him and then slowed his breathing. When he heard the heavy footfalls of the politician's goon he crouched down and began silently edging his way around the huge stack of boxes that he was hidden behind. He had remained at the front of the warehouse, knowing that his pursuer would automatically assume that he had run deep into the building for cover. All he had to do was wait until the man was far enough inside and make another run for it.
More running. He already had the beginnings of a stitch in his side from pelting through the night at break neck speed for almost half a mile. He was surprised that the gorilla sized man had even made it this far. He supposed that the silver lining was that it was great cardio. Was it any surprise that he didn't have to watch what he ate, when he spent most of his time running for his life? Still, he couldn't deny that he loved the rush he felt when he captured a great story. He didn't even mind that he occasionally got on the bad end of a beating from thugs; like gorilla features over there. Lately, the goons and bodyguards that did catch him were unwilling to try and kill him at least, due to the reputation he had unwittingly gained. He scowled to himself; I'm no ones 'pet'!
He heard his pursuer's footsteps move deeper into the warehouse as he inched around the front of the boxes to face the exit. Almost ready. A sharp pain shot through his side and he winced, reaching out a hand to steady himself. His sweat dampened palm touched the surface of the industrial plastic wrap, that kept the goods together on the pallets, and a small squeaking noise from the contact had him stiffening. The sound might as well have well have been an air horn; he heard his pursuer stop. Bolting into a run Takaba exited the warehouse at speed.
He didn't get far; apparently the god damned goon hadn't been far enough away from him. What felt like a steel vice trapped him around the middle from behind, forcing the air out of his lungs as a huge hand clamped over his mouth. Shit! The man lifted him easily off his feet and started back towards the empty warehouse. Takaba thrashed wildly, trying to dislodge himself. He kicked the man in the legs repeatedly but, other than eliciting a few grunts of pain, it was useless. He tried hooking one of his legs backwards between his captors' to yank at his knee from behind. The man stopped to tense his legs and let go of Takaba's mouth to punch him in the side before continuing on. Winded, the photographer gasped in a breath quickly before shouting as loudly as he could into the night while he thrashed again, trying to take the goon off guard. He received another winding punch as the man dragged him over the threshold of the warehouse doorway. Shit!
Without the hand covering his mouth and forcing his head back…he could lean forward! Takaba realised with a jolt. Dropping his head as far he could to his chest, he snapped it back with as much force as he could. Pain shot through the back of his head and he heard a satisfying crunch as the man let go of him with a yowl. The photographer dropped to his knees. He was just about to leap forward into another lifesaving sprint when a fist the size of a ham connected with the side of his head, knocking him sideways onto the floor. Fuck. He blinked back stars and began to rise but was grabbed roughly by the front of his shirt and slammed backwards into the warehouse wall.
There's no way I'm gonna bite it in a glorified shed! Takaba drew his head backwards this time, until it rested against the wall, and prepared to head butt his captor again. The goon grunted and rammed a forearm roughly under his chin, ruining his plan. "Oh no you don't you little fuck!" The man turned and spat the blood that had been running from his nose and into his mouth onto the floor beside them. The photographer was pleased to see that one of his teeth followed suit. Serves you right, asshole. Taking advantage of his captor's distraction, he bought his knee up sharply and nailed him right between the legs. He wasn't immediately released as he had expected; instead, the arm under his chin pressed into his neck as the man leaned forward into him out of pain. He couldn't breathe for a few seconds as the goon regained his composure with low groans and the blond began to panic.
Takaba thought dizzily about doing it again to see if a second blow would make the man release him, but the opportunity was taken from him as the man's head snapped up and his legs were suddenly kicked apart. Damn it. "Who are you? Skulking around taking pictures; my boss isn't happy. Are you press?" Gorilla face demanded brokenly between grunts and winces; his eyes had already started to blacken as a result of his newly broken nose. The arm against the blond's throat drew back slightly to allow him to breathe. The photographer heaved in a breath, the oxygen burning his deprived lungs as he did so.
"Screw you asshole!" He spat in the man's face, despite knowing that it wasn't a good idea to antagonize someone that had him pinned against a wall. His knowing that it hadn't been a good idea did nothing to soften the next punch to the gut he received. He grunted as he winced in pain. Tonight sure is turning into a shit show…
"You little punk! I'll ask one more time; why were you taking pictures? Who do you work for?!" Takaba didn't bother pointing out that that wasn't really what the oversized ape had asked before. He opted instead to throw his head forward again as soon as his captor removed the arm from his neck to wipe his face. He tried darting to the side as a yowl of pain rent the air but the goon's other hand was still gripped tightly onto his shirt and he was yanked back roughly. The arm returned to his throat and applied pressure as the man spat out another tooth and turned to glower down at him. The photographer gasped once at the lack of oxygen but glared defiantly back at the man without saying a word.
Recognition flashed across his captor's face as he managed to finally hold the photographer still long enough to get a good look at him. "You're that kid, Takaba, right? Asami's pet?" fear entered his gaze as his eyes darted to the blond's bruised cheek; "Shit."
Takaba almost expected the guy to let him go in the next instant; his face was so fearful. But he still said nothing; everyone wanted a shot at a man as powerful as Asami and he'd been kidnapped to use against him so many times now that it was becoming a joke.
Sure enough, the fear on his captor's face was slowly replaced by determined greed.
"So, I've managed to get a hold of Asami's prized possession, eh?" The goon gave a snide, self-satisfied grin that showed off where his newly absent teeth and previously been, the gums still bleeding; "I'll bet he'd pay almost anything to get you back to warming his bed."
Takaba had already rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Stop it, dumbass! He silently admonished himself; the gorilla might be stupid, but he was much bigger than the blond.
"You think that's funny?!" The arm was suddenly gone from his throat and the blond found himself being turned around and slammed back into the wall, face first. Shit shit shit! The arm was back a moment later, pressing into the back of his head and crushing his face into the rough warehouse wall. "Maybe I should make you warm my bed instead, hmm? I'm not into men, but you've got a pretty enough face." Panicked and angry, Takaba stamped as hard as he could on the goon's foot, receiving a brutal punch in the kidney for his efforts. He grunted in pain.
"What do you think Asami would say if he could see his little pet now?" The hand that had just punched him reached down and grabbed his ass roughly. Takaba braced both of his hands and one of his feet against the wall quickly and prepared to propel himself backwards with all of his might. Once he was free he was going to kick the rest of this moron's teeth out he thought vehemently.
A sickening, crunching, thud rent the air and the goon was suddenly gone from behind him.
"I would condemn you for touching what is mine, rat."
The photographer whipped around to see Asami re-holstering the gun that he had just smashed into his captor's temple before he slipped the black gloves from his hands, pocketing them as he stepped over the man's motionless body elegantly. Takaba felt a rush of relief and gratitude as he slid down the rough wall to sit on the floor, smile spreading as he gazed up into the dark eyes of the most powerful man in the city.
"About time." He managed a brattish tone that he didn't quite feel in that moment and grinned up at his saviour. The grin slipped from his lips as he grimaced at the pain in his cheek.
Asami ignored his comment and moved smoothly to kneel between the blond's outstretched legs, uncaring of the dusty, grimy floor ruining his extraordinarily expensive suit trousers. He reached out a hand and gently took Takaba's chin; tilting his head slightly to the side to examine the already blooming bruise across his cheek and the cuts where his face had scraped across the wall. He leaned in and placed a light kiss to the photographer's lips before rising once again to a stand.
"Close your eyes, Akihito."
Takaba's eyes widened momentarily as he watched Asami un-holster his gun and turn from him. He jammed his fingers in his ears quickly, but found that he couldn't look away as Asami emptied the entire clip into the man that had dared to hurt him. The photographer's ears rang, despite his attempt to block out the sound, as silence descended in the aftermath of cold vengeance. The crime lord's loyal bodyguard and secretary entered quietly at the noise, hands already on their respective weapons as they took in the scene. Takaba saw both of their eyes widen in slight shock as Asami turned from them without a word; they still weren't used to their ever stoic boss acting out of pure anger, as opposed to the cold calculation of how beneficial an action could be that they were used to.
"Is the kid okay, sir?" One of them asked. At the same time the other questioned; "How is Takaba?"
"He's okay." Asami returned the gun to its holster once more and bent down; lifted the photographer from the floor with ease and stepped back over the goon's body, avoiding the now pooling blood. Suddenly embarrassed that he had needed saving and a little angry that he already felt more at ease in the presence of three much more dangerous men, Takaba bristled.
"Hey! I'm not a kid; I'm almost twenty-four! And you can put me down too, carrying me like some blushing bride, I can walk damn it!" The photographer saw the two henchmen raise their eyebrows briefly, before he was suddenly flung over Asami's shoulder; "Oomph - hey, that hurts!"
The crime lord simply chuckled; "What's wrong? I'm no longer carrying you like a 'blushing bride'. Isn't that what you wanted?" No one but the photographer would dare speak to him like that; Asami couldn't help but admire the blond's gall. He even managed to huff an annoyed retort while being carried around like a sack of potatoes;
"Well, there's no need to be a dick about it. Damn yakuza; I just had the ever-loving crap beaten out of me. I don't need this shit."
Asami was sure that he heard his secretary Kirishima bite back a snort from where his two subordinates walked ahead of them. He fought a smile of his own as they neared the car that they had parked a short way from the warehouse to avoid being heard approaching. He lifted his free hand and lightly swatted the blond's ass. "I must teach you some manners, Akihito." He felt the photographer tense for a moment as he let out a small gasp, before the younger man relaxed against his shoulder once more; grumbling unintelligibly to himself despite the fact that the crime boss could feel the blond's hands fist his suit jacket. His bodyguard Suoh reached the car first and opened the back door, stepping away to enable Asami to place the blond gently into the rear of the vehicle.
"I'll be right in, don't worry." He assured, closing the door as he turned to face his men. "Kirishima. Take care of that. Make sure that nothing can be traced back to Akihito if he wants to publish his photos." He indicated in the direction of the warehouse with a brief incline of his head. Having received his orders, his secretary and second in command, nodded silently and started briskly back to the warehouse, taking out his cell phone as he did so.
"Suoh, when we get back I need you to check him over thoroughly and assess his injuries. Then tend him if need be."
"Yes sir." Suoh nodded and moved to the driver's side as his boss gracefully slid himself into the back of the car with the kid. He locked eyes with Asami in the rear-view mirror after noticing that Takaba was blushing; wordlessly he pressed the button that would raise the black glass partition to provide them with some privacy and started the drive to his boss' penthouse. He smiled to himself and rolled his eyes. His boss was a ruthless crime lord; hopelessly in love with a news photographer that, almost exclusively, stalked criminals and gangsters to expose them. Yet the kid had also failed to move against his boss, despite threatening to do so multiple times. It was almost sweet enough to make him gag…
xxx
"Relax; I only want to see if you are bruised." Asami slipped the buttons through the holes of the photographer's shirt, exceedingly careful not to jostle the already furiously blushing blond. He paused to turn on the overhead light before he opened the dirt dusted shirt and smoothed a hand gently over the skin he had exposed. "Turn." He dictated smoothly as he examined the photographer, lifting his shirt up at the back when Takaba obeyed him.
He didn't see any lacerations, though there was already an angry purple bruise blooming where his left kidney was located. Asami knew that the rest of his bruising would become more apparent within the next couple of days and he wanted to shoot the man responsible all over again. Moving around would be quite painful tomorrow, though Akihito would likely not feel too much pain today. He would just have to convince the blond to email his photographs into work and remain at home with him until he healed. He had already taken the liberty of moving the entire contents of Akihito's apartment to his penthouse a couple of weeks ago; much to the blond's anger and annoyance. He had defiantly decided to stay with a friend, rather than bend to Asami's will. Perhaps he could take this opportunity to convince the younger man of the merits of living together.
"Hey, what are you doing? You've stopped."
Pulled from his thoughts, the crime boss smirked "Do you expect me to ravish you before we even get home, Akihito?" He let the shirt fall back into place and turned the photographer to face him once again so that he could re-button his clothes.
"Nothing usually stops you! And I can dress myself!" Takaba actually slapped at his hands to stop him from continuing. Asami raised a brow. The blond looked mortified for a split second, before he caught himself and glared up at him as though challenging him to retaliate. Asami fought another chuckle; the blond was almost too transparent.
"Calm down, there will be plenty of time for me to hold you. You'll stay with me until you are healed. Now give me your camera and come here." Asami sat back and lifted an arm to indicate that he wanted Takaba to sit right next to him.
"No! Last time you deleted all of my photos, so no way!"
"Frustrating brat." Asami reached forward and grabbed a hold of the photographer, mindful of his injuries, and pulled him close against his side; wrapping an arm around him to keep him still as he took the camera from the blond's neck and turned it on. "I'm not going to delete all of your pictures this time; just the ones with the man that attacked you in. That politician is no associate of mine, so I have no need to stop you."
"Oh…Okay then." Takaba relaxed almost instantly, sinking into Asami's side and resting his head on his collarbone as they began to scroll through the many photographs. He didn't bother asking how the crime lord had known that he was going after that particular politician; Asami knew everything, it was the price of being at the top. Takaba also knew that the crime lord had hired a private investigator to shadow him wherever he went. He had no idea how much something like that would cost; especially when he often shook off the P.I to pursue a lead, but he shuddered to think. Takaba had thought that he had lost the investigator earlier in the day, but right then he was kind of grateful that he hadn't. Things could have turned out much worse if he hadn't been able to get away from that fucking goon.
"Ahh man! I really liked that one too; it was one of the ones I was thinking of using. The light really brings out that sleazy bastard's sleaziness." The yakuza chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of the blond's head as Takaba started and fought a blush at the surprisingly tender gesture. He opened his mouth to speak; to say what, he wasn't sure. He was cut off by Asami's low timbre;
"Get some sleep, Akihito. We still have a while yet; you were far from home."
When a hand appeared atop his head and stroked gently Takaba couldn't even make himself dispute Asami's use of the word 'home', nor the fact that the journey probably wouldn't be long enough for a decent nap. Finding himself suddenly exhausted, the photographer allowed the crime lord to remove his expensive suit jacket and drape it over him; he was pulled back into the man's warm embrace and drifted off almost instantly.
Asami stroked the blond's hair for a moment before pressing the button that would lower the partition once more. Suoh started and met his boss' gaze in the rear view mirror. He had clearly expected them to be busy for the entirety of the journey. He turned off the radio that he had put on low; "Sir?" He asked.
"Akihito has just fallen asleep; drive around for a little while before you take us home. I'm going to see if Kirishima is almost finished."
"Yes sir." Suoh turned from the main road to take a longer route; as his boss had ordered. His eyes slipped to the sleeping face of Takaba in the small mirror as Asami called his second in command for an update. As the car drove over a speed bump Suoh noticed Takaba jostle against his boss. It wouldn't do to make the poor kid any worse; he turned off again to a street that he knew was bump free. It was almost laughable that a group of ruthless yakuza were protecting a young man that could do their organization some serious damage with a few snaps of that camera of his; but he had to admit, the kid was really starting to grow on him.
A few months ago Asami had been shot twice and injured badly trying to protect his little photographer, but Takaba had ended up being taken by the triad to use against him and the boss hadn't been able to chase after them in the state that he had been in. The kid had toughed it out, waiting for Asami to rescue him; and when the boss had finally healed enough, they had set up a trade. Then Russians had got involved and everything had gone to shit. Kirishima had even taken a bullet protecting the kid. When one of the Russians had shot Takaba, they had finally witnessed just how terrifying the boss could be. Luckily the bullet had only grazed the kid. Asami had ended up opening his still healing bullet wounds and Suoh had then had three people's injuries to tend. Still; it was pretty obvious that the two were in love with each other. It just frustrated the bodyguard that they were being so stupid about it; not that he'd ever say that out loud, of course.
Asami finished his conversation and relayed that kirishima had called in the cleaners that they usually used and that they were almost finished with the scene. Soon there would be no evidence that takaba's attacker had ever even existed, let alone been shot to death in a dingy warehouse. Asami went on to describe the state that the politician's bodyguard had been in before they had arrived. Kirishima had found two teeth on the floor while waiting for the cleaners and had decided to turn over the body to take a look. Suoh gave a low whistle at the description and flicked a glance at the sleeping photographer as he turned into yet another side street. He had known that the kid was feisty, but damn. The bodyguard had to admit; he was kind of impressed. Asami also seemed proud as he lifted a hand to stroke the blond's hair once before continuing on. Suoh pretended not to notice the almost tender look that his boss gave the kid.
Their conversation turned to the politician that Takaba had been stalking for a while and then briefly to their usual business and finally to club Sion and the other establishments that the crime lord owned. They finally pulled up outside of the huge building in which Asami's penthouse was located. Suoh exited the car first and opened the door for his boss to exit gracefully. The older man did not immediately retrieve the photographer and thought for a moment, before turning to his bodyguard and telling him to order a large platter of sushi from the expensive place he often used and to find some kind of sweet desert for the sleeping blond. Suoh nodded and rounded the car again, taking out his phone and dialling the number of the now closed restaurant. They would prepare an order for the crime lord at any time, day or night, as would many restaurants in the city.
Takaba awoke when Asami lifted him from the car and protested groggily as the older man carried him bridal style past the doorman. Suoh turned from them and climbed back into the car as he spoke with the restaurant owner, adding his own order on top of his boss' so that he wouldn't have to cook when he got home; it was almost three o'clock in the morning, after all. He put the car in gear and drove in search of an all-night convenience store. Takaba didn't care about the expensiveness of his food and Suoh was sure that the young photographer would demolish anything sugar filled that the bodyguard managed to procure for him.
Xxx
Takaba protested half-heartedly once more as he was carried into the penthouse and set down outside of the bathroom door. Asami told him to shower and handed him a pair of the blond's own pyjama trousers to wear afterwards, with a light threat that if he didn't hurry, the crime lord would be forced to wash the blond himself. Face red, the photographer ducked into the bathroom and hastily began peeling off his clothes with difficulty as he had already begun to ache. He already knew that tomorrow would be worse. He winced as he stepped into the shower; the hot spray stung the cuts on his cheek as he ducked his face under the water. He turned down the temperature and gingerly washed himself. He scrubbed the dirt from the warehouse floor from under his nails and set to washing his hair. The back of his head felt tender where he had smashed it into the goon's nose and he took care not to let the suds run down his face and into the cuts on his cheek as he rinsed.
Worried that he had already taken too long and would end up confronted by a handsy yakuza before much longer, Takaba stepped from the shower and set to drying himself. After donning the pyjama trousers that Asami had no doubt taken from the photographer's own apartment, along with all of his other belongings, the blond wrapped a towel around his shoulders and exited the bathroom. He found the crime lord in his elaborate kitchen talking on his cell phone, already in a pair of clearly expensive lounge trousers and holding a large, crystal cut, glass of whiskey with water that Takaba knew had to cost more than a month's rent at his old apartment. Asami glanced over at him and smiled; finishing the conversation he had been having and tossing the phone casually onto the marble countertop. He motioned the photographer over with a single crook of his finger and the blond found himself helpless to do anything but comply.
Asami caged him against the counter and pressed the half-drank whiskey into one of his hands, instructing the blond to drink. Takaba did as he was told once again and felt the alcohol burn a path down his throat and into his stomach, warming him from the inside out. He was reluctant to admit that the drink was already having the effect that the crime lord, no doubt, wanted; he was starting to feel better. When he began to lower the glass from his lips, Asami placed a finger on the underside and tipped it upwards, encouraging him to continue to drink. When the glass was empty Asami took it from his hand and placed it on the counter beside them.
"Feel better?"
Takaba nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat at the yakuza's nearness and gazed up into his dark eyes, willing the older man to touch him and to move away at the same time. Asami did both. He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to his lips before stepping back. Takaba felt the loss of the yakuza's body heat keenly but said nothing as the dark haired man strode gracefully across the kitchen away from him.
"You're bleeding." He was back a moment later, pressing a folded piece of kitchen towel against his chin before dragging it upward to the largest cut on his cheekbone. The blond winced as the towel was pressed against the laceration. He hadn't even felt the blood running down his face, he had been so caught up in his own feelings; he blushed and took the paper towel from Asami's hand, taking over. Washing the dirt from his face had probably unclogged the wound, he thought. He sighed and moved to one of the high stools as Asami strode from the room without a word, and settled himself at the long marble counter, pressing more firmly at the cut to stem the blood flow. God damned gorilla…
Asami entered the kitchen once more, two bottles in hand. Silently he set them on the counter in front of the photographer and retrieved two more glasses from a cupboard overhead. He clicked on the rarely used electric kettle in the corner and waited a little while, his back to the blond. The crime lord touched the side of the kettle as though to gauge the temperature of the water within and turned it off before it became too hot, before pouring a small amount into one of the clean glasses; he then put a small splash of cold water into his previously used glass. He picked it up, along with his own and moved to where the blond was sat, leaving the third glass. He pulled up a stool opposite Takaba and sat down, picking up one of the bottles, he poured some of its golden contents into the glass with warm water in, before pressing it into the blond's hand.
"I've heard that brandy and hot water is good for shock, so drink it all, Akihito."
"I'm not in shock!" Takaba snapped adamantly, though he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip despite himself. It was much sweeter than the whiskey that the yakuza had offered him moments before. They sat and drank in silence until Suoh arrived to check him over. Asami had even poured the bodyguard a drink as way of thanking him as Suoh had poked and prodded at Takaba's ribs and bruises before the two had left the room, leaving the blond with a platter of the best sushi he had ever tasted. He promptly inhaled six of what he knew where the most expensive pieces before he turned his attention to the clearly 'convenience store' bag that Suoh had deposited on the counter as he had arrived. It contained sweet buns and a slice of chocolate cake that the photographer knew were for him.
He extracted a sweet bun and devoured it hungrily as he covered the sushi platter and placed it in Asami's too large refrigerator. He could hear the pair talking amongst themselves in the hallway but, for once, his reporters instincts didn't nudge him their way. He was tired after the events of the evening. Damn fucking tired. He headed to Asami's too large bedroom and laid down on his too large bed,waiting for the tyrant.
Thoughts of every time he'd been in Asami's 'company' caused the photographer to blush as he lay on the Egyptian cotton sheets of his saviour slash master's bed. There was a reason everyone called him 'Asami's pet' and even he couldn't deny it as he waited for the one man in the world that made him feel truly alive: the man that saved him just as he ruined him. Theirs was a forbidden romance; one that surely held nothing but hurt in its end, but Takaba couldn't bring himself to care. He heard the front door close and tensed, nervous as he always was, but as always, excited. Asami entered the bedroom moments later and the blond found himself moving to the end of the bed, swinging his legs over the bottom to face the yakuza. He stared up at the dark haired man with a soft look in his eyes and Asami looked down at him with the same fondness, until Takaba caught himself and donned an expression of defiant anger.
Asami reached down and grabbed the photographer's jaw firmly, fingers digging into his skin as he leant in to gaze into the blond's eyes. He tugged upwards, bringing Takaba up onto his tiptoes.
"There's that defiant look I love to see." A small smile graced his too handsome face before he pressed a hard kiss to Takaba's waiting mouth. He waited until the younger man softened in his arms and sighed against his lips before he drew back and pushed the photographer roughly backwards to fall onto his bed. Their bed, the crime lord corrected silently with a smirk at the flustered blond. He reached up and loosened his tie.
"Show me more of that fire Akihito, as I punish you for putting yourself in danger, yet again."
Takaba shot the yakuza the defiant glare he knew the man wanted to see; earning himself a nod of approval and a chuckle from Asami as the black tie fluttered to the floor. He gulped in anticipation.
He might stop putting himself in danger, if he didn't have faith that Asami would always be there to save him…