A/N 1: Hi there, guys. Uhm, well... this is not my very first fan fiction. And I'm not new in Finder Series fandom either. I've been into them since last 2013, and I only had the chance to read a fic of them last January when I finally land my hands on my first ever android phone, then it got snatched right under my nose after 10 days while I was busily reading 'Business As Usual,' a Finder Series fic written by Kadzuki Fuchoin (that has more than 2000 reviews) while riding on a public vehicle. After reading that and due to depression of losing my dream phone in a matter of 10 days, just some days after Christmas (I bought it from my bonus), I decided to write a fic for those two. Anyway, if my summary did pique your interest, I'd like to inform you that this fic has both the original and AU part. I dunno exactly how I came with the plot's frame, it just popped out of my head one sunny day. Maybe that special AU manga made by Yamane-sensei is the root of it, or maybe that frustration of mine seeing Asami is different kind of clothes was another factor XD!
Oh, I just checked out the list of Rated-M fics a while ago. I'm pretty busy with my real life and I haven't read any other fics for the past few months after my phone's incident. I found this one fic that contains one-shots depicting Asami and Takaba in different situations, or in AU, and it kinda resembles mine, though not exactly. I hope they are not alike, but please tell me if it is.
This is my very first time writing for another fandom other than my 10-years long hate pair of Kuroro and Kurapika (Hunter x Hunter). I'm still coping with the different characterizations, and I'm not a native English speaker so kindly bear with my grammar and OOC's for the time being. I hope you'll like this as well, this is the first time I've ever written a 10k worth of words for a single chapter.
And also, I'm in big need for Beta Reader. I'd like to ask for someone's helping hand to further improve this fan fiction, so please don't hesitate to contact me should you want to work with me!
Lastly, just to make it clear, this fan fiction contains sexual explicit scene. I'm not a so good writer of it but you have been warned!
Enough of babbling, please enjoy and don't forget to leave a review! That's a lot of heart for me ^^~
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN The Finder Series and its characters.
CHAPTER 1
Asami: The Plumber
Akihito couldn't exactly remember when he started waking up each morning, laying comfortably down in someone else's bed, enveloped with someone else's warm body. He couldn't find any exact date no matter how he tried to rummage inside his head. It was as if his life rotated upside down and changed drastically just some months, or days ago. But in fact, it had been almost two years when he was forcibly moved to live with the man he once thought of taking down with his best weapon; now it felt ironic for he couldn't even show to other people the best picture he had stolen from Asami when he let his guard down back then on the resort getaway, wherein the feared and revered Lord Asami Ryuichi of the underworld was deeply asleep while hugging a fluffy, cuddly head of a bear mascot. It still never failed to pull his lips into an amused smile whenever Asami called him on the phone, and that photo would always appear on the screen. He wondered if Asami already knew about that. No, it was unlikely because if the yakuza already knew it, Akihito must have undergone a severe punishment ages ago.
So many things had changed, and were still changing. At first he had wanted to get the biggest scoop of the century and bring down the notorious and most feared man of the underworld. Now he couldn't even show this hilarious photo to his friends to make fun out of him as Akihito Takaba came to realize that things the seemed to be just pretty little games got deeper and took a very serious turn as fate crossed their paths, that led him to be involved dangerously deep to this man now slumbering peacefully next to him.
Asami Ryuchi, no doubt, was the most handsome, sexiest, and wealthiest man of this era that every woman in the world must be dreaming of. If he were to be an actor, in spite of being Japanese, he would surely on top in the Hollywood. If he were to be a model, he would be exclusively modeling only for the most expensive brands of signature apparels and perfume. When it came to appearance, Asami could even be compared to a god. He was almost perfect.
Well, almost.
Rich, good looking and sinfully sexy. A package deal that was too good to deny: except that in the real world, men like gods didn't exist. They would never exist.
Suddenly, Asami stirred awake. Once again the photographer's heart pumped loudly inside his chest. Most of the time, he would wake up with the absence of the man who seemed to just go back to their penthouse just to eat, take a bath, fuck him and sleep. He rarely had time and chance to take a good look at his lover's features while asleep as the morning sun bathed them with light and warmth. Those lips, that perfectly-shaped nose, those long eyelashes and his looks when his hair was free from styling gel. 'Hell bitches of the whole world—die in envy.' Akihito heard himself mentally boasted.
Asami Ryuichi was no god. Not a perfect man either. He was simply a hell of a sadistic, perverted, good-only-in-sex bastard. Oh, and a homosexual, all in one. He couldn't help but feel sorry for all the girls who fell into this deceitful, sly and shameful human being, if there were any. For one: their hearts would surely tear apart one they found out his gender preference. Second: if ever a girl managed to catch his heart, she would surely die out of hard core sex. Literally. 'Kidding aside, even after so many nights of fucking with him, he still had me surprised sometimes with his endless games, experiments, plus that stamina. It's a miracle I'm still alive.'
Scratch that. No woman could ever stand him; even the next sexiest, most beautiful man he ever met didn't stand a chance, to think that Liu Fei Long surpassed the beauty of the prettiest women Akihito had ever seen in his entire life. Really, oftentimes he couldn't help but feel so lucky that he was still breathing up until now.
Speaking of breathing—Asami was now awake. His golden eyes fixed a gaze down at Akihito, who was now vehemently berating himself in mind when he didn't grab the chance earlier to get away from the sex god. Now he would suffer its consequence.
"Sometimes I can't help but wonder what's on your mind every time you stare at me so intently like that. Mind sharing me some piece of your mind?" Asami said first thing in the morning, his lips curved into a thin smile.
"Sure; actually I'm thinking if you were taking some illegal drugs or stimulant or steroids before going home from work: THREE straight rounds!? What on earth are you, a sex machine?" Akihito sarcastically remarked. He was fully aware of the incredulous punishment he would have to face because of it, but in time he learned that whether he retaliated through words or not, he would get the same pain and pleasure treatment so why not give him a piece of his mind, since he seemed to be interested?
The thin, captivating smile curved even more as Asami smirked, obvious amusement glinted underneath his golden orbs.
"What if I were?"
"... Then that's unfair," Akihito pouted.
"Are you telling me that taking stimulants would boost you up to stand longer and catch up on me?" the yakuza said back, half meaning and half mocking it.
"HUH!?" Akihito snarled angrily. "How the hell did you come up with that!?"
"Hmm, let's see. Ah, yes; when you suddenly burst in my office, helplessly aroused and wordlessly begging for my touch just because you're high with some sort of drug."
Akihito's face feverishly blushed as his eyes snapped into recollection of the mentioned past incident. He kept telling Asami that he didn't meant to take that drug: he was just obliged to in order to keep up with his undercover. Yes, he admittedly returned to that middleman to get another dose but he half expected not to see him, which was relieving in more ways than one. He might have some desire to match the crime lord's stamina, but he would rather die than to let Asami find that out.
Well in all honesty, he could tell that Asami already figured about that without him confessing.
When Akihito fell into a thoughtful silence, the businessman possessively took back Akihito's attention by delving into his lips for a kiss. At first he earned a futile resistance but later on, Akihito relaxed and gave in.
Asami was already hoisting himself on top of the photographer when Akihito managed to raise a snappy comment. "Bastard, do you know what time is it!?"
"By the looks of it, it's around ten in the morning," Asami casually answered. He proceeded in trapping the boy beneath him as if he wasn't questioned at all.
"Give me a break, you pervert! I have work!" Akihito attempted to escape, but to no avail.
"We still have some hours until noon, why don't we continue where we stopped last night?"
This was bad. Really— seriously— doubtlessly bad.
"NOOO!" Akihito screamed despite of awareness that he could never stand a chance against the sex lord of the underworld, AsamiRyuichi.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Silently fuming, Akihito scooped up one hot, steamy ladle of soup from the pot and carefully poured it a cup. Everything was now served in the table except from the soup, but Asami still hadn't emerged from his room. Not that he minded, but sometimes Akihito couldn't understand why Asami always took long in preparing himself to work daily. He knew it was a nature of the bastard's job, but for the record— he had never— ever— seen Asami disheveled (he still got that handsome aura even with his hair wet after shower, or when he woke up, even when he was in pleasure while cumming during sex!) Yes, even when he was at home and wearing casual clothes (that he couldn't really remember when the last time he saw Asami wearing no signature-designed coat and tie, but a simple pair of pants and shirt), he still looked as if he were to attend an awarding ceremony. Alright, he was handsome— but to be just so neat and clean like that? Had this man ever experienced touching mud? Or at least smelled a foul odor from a garbage can? Save for Akihito's semen, had this man ever touched dirt in his life?
Seriously. Ever since he was forcibly moved and lived with this yakuza, the simplest and most mundane things turned so complicated. Things that were natural and normal for Akihito seemed to be interestingly strange for Asami; while in Akihito's side, everything that were so ordinary for the yakuza were shockingly new to the photographer. They were living under the same roof, but the reality of them existing into two entirely different worlds still remained.
Admittedly, Akihito preferred it that way.
He had never intended to step into that universe Asami was in. Not even once. In fact, even of Asami didn't force him in this 'live-in' status, he wouldn't mind. He would still rather work his ass off as a photographer for a living. He would rather pay rent for his own lodgings, than to live under Asami's wing and be reduced into a house wife. He didn't need Asami to begin with. He had no intention to involve himself to that dangerous path: the sneak peek he had made was more than enough.
He would never stoop down low and become Asami's mistress to leech him off for money, fame and luxury. He bet Asami would never step down for his sake, either.
'I'll work harder. Since I'm not paying rent anymore, I'll save up some money and secure it in a bank, so that when he finally decided to kick me out, I wouldn't end up as a poor little stray dog. Maybe I've been reduced into a housewife slash sex thing, but that doesn't mean I'd abandon my remaining strand of pride and dignity,' he mentally mused. 'Oh, maybe I'll get myself a ticket abroad and get away for a while first, and when the heart break finally heals, I'll be back to work and start anew.' he added.
When the heart break finally healed, he heard himself mentally repeated. Hell, his heart was already tearing apart at the seams, he wondered how it would feel when it completely break and shatter into pieces.
Was he turning into a masochist for real?
Sighing inwardly, he placed the soup on the table. He sat in one of the chairs, and that was when Asami chose to appear from his room's door, wearing his all-time favorite attire of suit and tie.
Everything about this man, from head to foot, was screaming 'Yakuza.' He was the type who would perfectly fit for an antagonist role for a cheap drama: rich, handsome, powerful, possessive, obsessive— lonely. He would fall for the female heroin, a dirt poor girl with a good heart but had no feelings for him. But he would insist and try his best to get her heart; by hook or by crook. Later on the girl would see him into another light then would fall for him. But his family didn't like her, and so they would run away and abandon everything in the name of love— happily ever after.
So his current situation was no different from a cheap, over-used drama plot. A fairy tale— with a mind blowing, ass turning twist. And as for the happy ending? He doubted that. Not with their story line. Not with Asami Ryuichi.
The man his mind was currently occupied with walked closer to the small dining table they shared. He gave Akihito one swift look, and settled down on his chair. Munching his toast, the boy busied himself with his own set of meal. He left Asami with whatever he was into: he wanted to give him a silent treatment for what he had done to him just an hour ago.
He was really planning to go to that news agency he had frequented to for a new assignment. But since he was up all night due to Asami's three straight rounds, he woke up very late. Then the insatiable jerk still pestered him for another quick round first thing in the morning. In the end, he found out through a phone call that no impending assignment was left for him, and that one big, good scoop was already taken by Mitarai. It meant one thing: no work, no pay. And since there was nothing left for him to do outside, he had no other good choice but to take an off and laze around for a whole day.
Asami must have noticed his unusual lack of interest and response as the young man languidly ate his brunch. With his rich, baritone voice, he called out.
"No assignments today?"
"Yeah right— all thanks to one bastard there, all of the scoops were taken by everyone because I'm late."
"Taking a day of, I see," Asami spoke as if he wasn't aware of the implicit remark.
"Well unlike you— I don't have that permanent job to conquest this entire planet. I'm just your ordinary freelance guy you can pick up anywhere. Luckily I have more day-offs that working hours most of the time. Feeling envious?" Akihito felt a little irritated.
'Heck, what happened to my silent treatment plan!?'
"In all honesty, I am. Now that you mentioned it, I think I would want to take a day-off as well today."
'Holy shit'. "No way!"
"Why not?"
"Because I'll surely lose my own!"
"Why, Akihito," Asami curved his lips into a sinister smirk. "Wouldn't it make the rest day extra special?"
"No thank you," Akihito spat. "The offer doesn't sound appealing at all, especially because I know how much it will cost."
"I'll make it worth the price you'll pay, then."
"No."
Asami heartily laughed. "Cheeky as ever, Akihito."
The said cheeky boy merely focused down his food as a response. Akihito could see that making another comeback would surely warrant trouble. He couldn't afford that. He couldn't lose his day-off just for the sake of argument.
And it seemed Asami wasn't really serious about his statement for he didn't coax any further.
"Oh yeah," the photographer, relieved that Asami had dismissed his idea of taking an unplanned, self-declared non-working holiday, jumped into another discussion, drawing the man away from the subject. "The sink's clogged, by the way. I tried to unclog it myself but the stuff preventing the water flow seemed to be somewhere deeper. Should I call a plumber?"
"Just call the receptionist downstairs and request for a maintenance," Asami casually answered as if it was the simplest question on earth that Akihito shouldn't have asked from the very beginning. It suggested one thing: the photographer should have asked the receptionist first thing when he noticed the problem.
But Akihito wasn't like that by nature. He had loved to try and fix the trouble with his own hands first, and when things seemed to be really beyond his capacity, that would be the time he would ask for others' help. But Asami wasn't, especially when it came to mundane matters.
And as thoughts started to swirl inside his head again, Akihito found himself wondering about the man in front of him once more.
'Has he ever once took a vacuum and cleaned his own room? Or even tried for once to tidy up his personal space and arrange the furniture's positions out of a whim? Or even touched a powder detergent and tried to scrub the tiles of his bathroom?'
'No, no, and another big no. God, I can't even imagine him folding his clothes inside his closet. This man's too rich and busy with his businessman slash yakuza life that sleep doesn't even have enough time in his hectic schedule.' Akihito answered his own mental question.
"Okay," he simply said.
After that, they ate their lunch in silence.
Akihito saw Asami to the door as the man made his way out from the penthouse and sent his usual snappy bid of goodbye, like a housewife seeing his husband to work, just with a little twist.
Once Asami left and he was finally alone, the young man called at the receptionist and relayed his plumbing concern. He was told that maintenance would be there right away to repair the problem. After the call, he marched to their living room and randomly searched the television for anything to watch.
Shortly after the phone call, Akihito heard the door bell chimed and two uniformed men standing side by side in front of the door were caught by the camera installed in the entrance. The photographer hastily opened the door and let them in. Both men bowed and greeted the boy before stepping inside.
Marching towards the grandiose kitchen, Akihito started explaining to the personnel the sink's problem. He told them it suddenly gave off odd gurgling sounds the previous night, when he was washing the dishes. Then he noted the water flow seemed to become slow, indicating that something must had blocked the passageway. He added his futile attempt of hooking up whatever stuff was stuck in the pipe, leading the utility men to a conclusion that the clog was deeper.
After Akihito finished explaining, the men silently set off to their job. Having nothing else to do, the young man enthusiastically watched the workers as they produced some odd instruments and started poking the sink's hole. Turning the tap on and off, they tested how slow the water flowed down, and exactly just like what the photographer said, it was slow, indicating that there was really a problem.
The two were serious with their business. They didn't talk much and only asked each other some questions about the pipe. Later on, they seemed to find the clog's location. Akihito didn't exactly understand how they did but he couldn't help but feel awe with the guys. God, he must be really bored, but anyways; at least now, Akihito learned something and the next time it happened again, he knew what else to do aside from poking the hole with a stick and fruitlessly attempting to dismantle the pipe.
Listening to the timid conversation about replacing the pipe the two shared, Akihito's mind suddenly drifted into something he honestly didn't mean to think about. It was so sudden, so abrupt and so absurd the he almost broke into a loud laugh. He managed to hold it back, though, and kept the thought only for himself.
Asami Ryuichi. His name itself bore hostility and angst. He was revered and feared amongst the society, both above the nation's community and the dark underworld. He still couldn't help himself to think that their secret and unlabeled relationship was for real. He had seriously sunk himself into a very, very deep shit for a considerable time, and yet he still couldn't believe it sometimes.
His mind then strayed into deep contemplation.
He was always reminded by Asami as his property, he even proudly told everyone to whom he belonged to. Akihito hated him vocally telling that, all the time, but most of those times he felt somewhat happy with Asami's claim. It was true, anyway (but it doesn't mean he have to shove it in my face all the time! he mentally added). So all in all, he didn't really mind.
But what Akihito was gravely upset about was the fact that he couldn't do the same. He felt he could never do the same and claim Asami as his because basically, he had nothing to hold to fortify that claim. He had no money, fame, intelligence, guts, or even a strong hold on the yakuza's heart. Asami could toss him away anytime once he had enough, but Akihito probably couldn't throw whatever feelings he had for the man, not so easily. In every angle you looked at, in the end he was still the victim. He was left in the dark alone, with no stable rock to hold on.
'Sometimes I wish things were simpler and lighter than this,' Akihito sighed and placed a hand under his chin. He eyes the utility men but his mind wasn't into them; rather, thinking about the man who had severely turned his life into a whole new level. He bet Asami was now seating comfortably in his custom-made leather chair, reading endless piles of reports, attending board meetings, and thinking about what on earth he was going to do with his money. 'Ugh, that must be boring to death!' in all honesty Akihito didn't know how to be problematic because of having so much money, but he could at least say that Asami was somewhat bored, and he had turned into that boredom's reliever.
Well, he could say that that was the root of their fate crossing each other: Asami being the sought-after richest bastard of the century, and Akihito chasing after those kinds of personalities. Come to think of it— if it actually happened that he was just an ordinary photographer, or Asami wasn't the revered yakuza of all time, they were unlikely to meet each other. Then things wouldn't turn out this way. Maybe things were very different—entirely different.
Akihito felt hilarious with his trail of thoughts, but somehow he was enjoying the way his brain worked as of the moment. Well, it wouldn't hurt to widen his imagination sometimes, and being above Asami, even in his dreams, had been a great source of his amusement.
The sink was now under intent operation conducted by the plumbers, and the surgery seemed to be critical and would take longer time than Akihito expected. But he didn't mind at all, because he was far from being bored.
'Hmm,' Akihito silently mumbled in his head. 'If parallel universe does exist and Asami chose a different course in life, what kind of job would be the most suitable for him?' He had to hold a scoff back, and the plumbers must have heard him for they turned and look at the young man, a smile was plastered in his face. Akihito gave them an awkward smile then motioned them to keep working and just ignore him. The men curtly nodded and did what they were told, leaving their client with whatever he had in his mind.
They quite didn't have the faintest idea that it had something to do with them.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"God damn it!" Akihito grunted for the nth time. He knew he was getting nowhere, but still he tried his best to get the job under control with the best of his ability. But maybe even if he was the biggest freelance photographer on earth, there were just some things he knew he couldn't do no matter how freelance he was.
For example: plumbing.
It had been more than an hour when Akihito began his all-out war against his apartment's sink. The night prior, Akihito noticed that the sink suddenly stopped gulping down the water to the drainage. At first the young man assumed that maybe some food wrapper blocked that pipe, but he didn't give it much thought and hoped the water would flow down even slowly all throughout the night. He slept without washing his soiled dishes, only to find the smelly, stagnant water distilled in his dirty sink the next day.
Living alone, the photographer owned very few kitchen utensils, and he had to wash them right every after use. Akihito wasn't that so sensitive and overly hygienic type, but using used and dirty plates was way too unclean. He didn't mind using it twice, but he knew sooner or later he had to deal with his plumbing matter so he would rather face it now than to use the same dirty plates the next day.
But instead of calling professionals that he had to pay just to get the work done, Akihito decided to try and put the matter into his own hands first, hoping he could get it fixed by himself and avoid that unnecessary expense. Given that he had no good experience with it (he rarely let anything solid get into the sink's hole, because he knew it would cost him some yen for repair that could have been his budget for a decent meal for a day or two), the first thing he tried to do was poking a stick down the pipe, identifying the foreign object first.
The object must be something soft for Akihito's stick hadn't touched anything hard. Or worse, the clog might have flushed further down the pipeline, away from his reach. Akihito wished it was the former, so he fruitlessly attempted to fish out whatever stuff was blocking the water flow. He poked the blunt stick in and out of the hole, pushing its tip against the pipe's wall, hoping it would catch the bastard clog.
And after some unnerving minutes of attempts, Akihito grew more frustrated yet determined. However, the clog was still nowhere to be found. And it took him thirty solid minutes to realize that he indeed wasn't making any progress, and that he needed to use a different kind of approach.
So Akihito did change the plan. This time, he would try to bribe the pipe under the sink itself. The photographer didn't exactly know how to dismantle the PVC pipe, but he supposed with the right equipment, he could pull it off somehow.
He had to dislodge the stagnant water first, so he prepared a bucket and placed it under the pipe. So despite the fact that he was clueless of what the heck he was doing, Akihito tried to unscrew the pipe from the sink.
The water began to spill from the disconnection of the pipe and the sink that the young man made. Not wanting to make a mess, Akihito let it unscrewed just a little, so that the water would just gradually drip out. The dirty liquid was dripping down the pipe's outer wall and dropping right into the small pail Akihito had prepared. He patiently waited until the bucket was full, then he noticed that even if the water was continuously spilling out, the volume that was still in the sink remained the same.
Realizing that something was really wrong, Akihito bent down and hurriedly tightened the bolt with a wrench.
That attempt to cover up the impending damage had mockingly did otherwise as the disconnection, instead of conjoining again, suddenly gave away and let a harder flow of water to escape from the pipe. It poured down the small bucket, and it instantly overflowed, dirtying the floor and creating a small pool of foul-smelling water in a corner.
"God damn it!" Akihito vehemently cursed; the pouring outburst of the water made him think that the water from the sinks of the entire apartment must be flowing their ways down his own unit. It wasn't the fear of getting drowned in the assuming upcoming flash flood that made him regret his attempt to settle things on his own— it was the thought of a much bigger expense he would have to face due to a worse damage the goddamn sink could have done.
Collecting himself, Akihito put his full attention and strength on the pipe. He gave the bolt another twist, calculated this time, with his hand supporting the pipe. Slowly, the bolt tightened in every twist the young man did. Finally when Akihito couldn't twist it anymore and the stagnant water halted from seeping out, he cautiously let the pipe go, sighing in relief, before slumping down the wet floor. His eyes never left the bolt, though, fearing it might give away and fall off completely.
Intently keeping his gaze on the pipe, Akihito rummaged over his pants pocket and whipped his phone out. Scanning through his phone book, Akihito murmured to the sink, his voice contained pure irritation and defeat.
"You win this time, you bastard."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Akihito had just finished cleaning the mess the sink had done, including his dirty clothes, when a knock sounded from his door. Mixture of relief and annoyance flitted in his mind as he opened the door, expecting an unwanted visitor. He was about to let out another sigh, when his breath was held caught in his throat, and his mouth was left opened for some seconds. Until he came to realize that his actions must had suggested strange things, he blinked his eyes twice and composed himself, although his gaze didn't left the golden pair of eyes now staring back at him.
'Whoa...' Akihito almost heard his mind grumbled in awe. A very good looking man was standing in front of him, with his hair covered with a baseball cap, wearing a plain, light blue uniform that was screaming out what he was doing for a living, his bland get-up couldn't match the defiant look in his eyes and face.
'God... is it really possible for a mere human being to look so cool like that!?' Akihito shamefully mused, still looking at the intruder with obvious earnest.
"Umm... Hello. How may I help you?" Akihito asked, somehow losing the cool in his voice, but he gave it no mind. He just wished the man wouldn't mind, either.
"Good afternoon," the man said with his rich, baritone voice the perfectly fitted his looks. He bowed a little and took his cap off, and when he straightened up he locked his gaze back at the younger man. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, sir. May I ask if this is Takaba Akihito-san's residence?"
"Er, yeah. I'm Takaba," Akihito felt something weird in his stomach when the man's eyes met his again. He mentally berated himself for feeling these disturbing sensations, and he hoped it wouldn't reflect on his actions a lot.
"Ah, Takaba-san," the man curved his kissable— 'what the heck was that adjective!?' Akihito thought— lips into a captivating smile. "I'm Ryuichi from Mitsui Plumbing. I'm here for the scheduled repair if your kitchen's sink."
"Oh, I see," ... 'you're a fucking plumber!? Is this some kind of a joke? This must be a damn prank of some nasty variety TV show!' Plumber? He could even pass as a Japanese Hollywood action movie star! Tall, handsome, somewhat intimidating— really, that face belonged to a renowned action superstar. And yet, he was just a fucking damn plumber. "Please, come in"
"Thank you," Ryuichi said and stepped in. He took his shoes off and placed it on the genkan. Akihito led him to the kitchen, explaining to the man the sink's problem. The young man barely finished his tale when the plumber saw the sink's current condition. His eyes lingered up and down the sink, examining and seemingly thinking of things he would have to do. It was as if Akihito's explanation wasn't needed at all, and with one look the plumber knew exactly just what to do.
Akihito explained, nonetheless. Once done, he looked back at those golden, deep eyes. Funnily enough, for a mere plumber, Ryuichi looked dead serious about getting the job done satisfyingly. The photographer found himself drawn to those beautiful eyes filled with enthusiasm, and when it was Ryuichi's turn to catch his ogling at him too long, Akihito immediately averted his eyes away, leaving an awkward air between them.
There was a nasty little silence, until Ryuichi broke the intense atmosphere.
"Very well, sir. The task is considerably easy and should be done within an hour or so. Rest assured you can use the sink by dinner," Ryuichi said with a charming smile.
"Good, please take good care of it," Akihito returned with a gleeful grin.
After what was said and done, the plumber bent down the sink and set off to work.
Akihito retreated away from the man and leaned against a wall nearby. He watched as Ryuichi worked in silence, deeply engrossed with his task on hand. Some odd minutes passed, Akihito wanted to draw nearer the man to look at his progress but for some reason he couldn't quite comprehend, in spite of the respectfulness and the smile the plumber exhibited, he somehow gave off an eerie air around him. He looked approachable yet not, as if an oppressive side was hidden behind his charming looks. All he could do was to watch silently from a distance.
Silent minutes passed, only the sounds of clanking metals lingered in the air. Akihito waited for the man to speak or ask him something, but he remained quiet, apparently busy with his work.
Until Akihito could bear it no longer.
"E-eeto, Ryuichi-san" the photographer felt sheepish as he called the plumber by name. The man glanced at him as a response. "Do you need anything? I mean, do you need to change the pipe into a new one?"
"Fortunately, the clog wasn't deep, and the pipe isn't damaged at all. There is no need for major repair, unless you want to change the PVC pipe for a new one," the man explained, a small smile tugged at his lips.
"I see, that's a relief then," Akihito said, though some part of him wished it was. Then again, he berated himself mentally for having that thought. From his own contemplation, Akihito managed to heave another question.
"But if ever, how much do you think it'll cost to change into a new one?"
"It depends on the materials we will use. I would suggest the sink to be replaced as well. We have different types of sets to choose from, with free installation. I didn't bring any sample fir I was informed it is only a repair. But you can call our office and schedule an installation right this afternoon."
"I see... I think I'll go for the minor repair for now, I admittedly don't have the budget yet."
"I understand," Ryuichi glanced at him and smiled a little. "But if ever you change your mind, please don't hesitate to call us. We can give you a discount."
"Sure, I will," Akihito smiled amiably with his hand unconsciously scratched the imaginary itch on his head.
"Uhm, another question: What was clogging the sink?"
"It's a mixture of empty food wrappers and some other dirt that must have accumulated due to lack of maintenance. But I suppose the biggest among them is the piece of sock I pulled out of the pipe."
"EH!?" utterly shocked, Akihito blurted out. He seriously didn't expect to hear that.
Upon seeing the unbelieving and embarrassed look on the younger man's pretty face, Ryuichi let out a hearty chuckle.
"I-I," Akihito stuttered with his face blushing hard. "I can't remember how on earth that sock found its way in there!" he stomped closer to take a look at the mentioned sock. The plumber backed away to allow the photographer see the bunch of mess he took out of the pipeline.
Akihito bent down and scrutinized the small heap of assorted dirt. There was, indeed, a piece of moldy, foul-smelling, woven sock. He eyed it with repugnance, trying to make out its real color.
"Believe me or not, that's not mine," Akihito indignantly reasoned out.
"I can figure as much. I don't think Takaba-san is careless enough to let that kind of thing be overlooked. And by the looks of it, the sock was stuck in there for a very long time. It's almost near complete decomposition."
"Yeah right— I just moved here a year ago," Akihito said.
"I see. You are living alone, I suppose?" Akihito backed off, giving the man space to get back to work. A subconscious smile played on his lips, feeling triumphant for opening a good flow of conversation at last. "Yes, I am. I left the family at an early age and lived on my own ever since."
"That's very admirable of you, Takaba-san. Young and independent, just like exactly what you look like."
"Hehe, thanks," Akihito accompanied his small chuckle with another scratch in his head.
"How about Ryuichi-san? Settled for good?"
"No, not yet."
"How about a girlfriend? Nah, no doubt about that," Akihito lightly snickered.
"Neither."
"... You're not serious, are you?"
"But I really am not committed into any relationship as of now."
"But why?" Akihito had to hold back a little, fearing his curious question would suggest other things.
"I'm not sure myself. Maybe it's not the right time yet," Ryuichi gave a timid answer. It somehow hinted Akihito that he didn't want him to ask any further personal questions.
"I see..."
Once again, they fell into a blank silence, but not for long when the photographer easily brought a valid subject up.
"I still can't believe that a sock can actually fit into that small hole of the sink. The previous occupant to this unit must be either dumb enough to let it go down the or perhaps he had some quarrel with the landlord and purposely stuffed it as revenge before moving out"
"There are more other unbelievable and dumber cases we had encountered than this, Takaba-san. Once I retrieved a whole toilet brush from a toilet bowl. The worst one so far was when we had to repair a toilet that was throwing up its contents. We actually had to ask the client if we could take a bath and borrow some clothes to change because we had to get rid of the uniforms we were wearing after the repair."
"Ugh... that's horrible. If I were in your place, I would have resigned right away."
"I've thought of the same thing and dismissed it later on. I'm more than aware that there would be times I'll have to face those kinds of cases. It's a part of my profession. Therefore, I have to continue and work in order to sustain myself."
"I understand that part very well," Akihito honestly did for he was in the same boat as the man. His job could never make him rich but the thought of changing his profession as a photographer never crossed his mind. He had loved his job, and it loved him back. The same thing applied to this man now busily fixing his sink, he thought.
"How about Takaba-san?" after some seconds of contemplation, a question Akihito didn't quite understand pulled him back to present.
"Me? Err... well, in my case, I usually get myself into trouble whenever I'm into a stake out but it can't be helped; it's a nature of my chosen job."
"Stake out?" Ryuichi asked, sounding confused.
"Oh," Akihito realized this man didn't know what he was doing for a living. "I'm a freelance photographer, actually. My photo shoots range from wedding and events footage, to hot scoops of notorious dealers and masterminds of illegal practices."
"Sounds pretty cool," Ryuichi complimented.
"Yeah, it's kinda thrilling and exciting— but kinda dangerous too."
"I can figure as much," the man timidly said.
"Well, as for your question earlier," wanting to keep the flow of their small chat, Akihito recalled that he misinterpreted the man's question moments ago. "I realized that the question wasn't about my work. What are you actually meaning to ask?"
"Ah, I'm actually asking if you are planning to settle down for good soon."
A furious blush crept instantly in Akihito's face. He felt his heart skipped a long beat.
"Oh, I see," the photographer thought the man wanted to stop the personal questions. It looked like he would like to lengthen their conversation as much as he did. "Well... no, not either. I'm not even seeing anyone right now."
Suddenly, Ryuichi stopped from moving. Then he gently placed his wrench down the floor and nonchalantly held onto the hem of his light blue, long-sleeved shirt. He quickly took it off, tugged the either sleeve's ends and wound them around his sweaty waist before typing it into a single knot.
Akihito found himself holding his breath. He bet he looked stupidly flustered by now. His mind abruptly tangled into a mess of shock, awe, and discreet embarrassment. As far as he knew, he was straight— but for the record, this was the first time he faced a tremendous identity crisis in his life. Forget about being straight or not— even if he really were straight, he could recognize as well as admire such wonderful physique in one glance. Well-toned, six-pack abs, muscular and smooth biceps—delectable shoulders and collarbone. He could imagine himself went rigid on his spot, his heart hammering hard against his rib cage, and he could almost hear its loud beats— weird sensations to feel, but who the hell cared?
"Wow," Akihito retained his cool demeanor although his nerves were doing otherwise already. "Gym-aholic, I suppose?" You're the sexiest human being I've ever set my eyes on so far, so sexy and hot you looked too good to be true.'
"You can say that, though I rarely go to gym and I mostly perform exercises at home," Ryuichi turned his head a little and looked up to meet Akihito's hazel eyes.
"I must say you are doing a great job in building up those muscles; care to share some of your routine?" the young man peered down the plumber, locking his gaze on those golden, mysterious orbs.
"Why, thank you," the man gave him a small smirk while tightening the knotted sleeves around his waist. "I'm not as good as you might have assumed, but somewhat my profession has helped."
"Err..." Akihito just couldn't get it but he felt he wouldn't able to sleep tonight of he wouldn't ask the man the question that had bugging him ever since Ryuichi revealed himself as a plumber. Still feeling hesitant, Akihito dared to ask, attempting to deliver the question as nonchalant as possible. "I hope I won't sound offensive or anything… and I wish you won't mind either but can I ask you something? Well, I'll be frank— you don't look like a so-ordinary plumber to me. You know, with those looks physique, you can easily pass as an action superstar. I-I don't mean anything weird, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who have thought and have said that you are handsome," with his voice sounding like asking a mundane question, Akihito mentally sighed in relief.
However, his relief shortly lived as another nasty silence issued between the two of them. Apparently, the man minded the question, and should have felt offended. Akihito couldn't help but feel a little bad for putting an end to their good conversation and raising an utter awkwardness air about them.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. Please forget— Akihito stopped when Ryuichi languidly stood of from his crouching position. 'This is bad,' Akihito thought. He kind of expected the man would shot him a deadly glare, swear and storm out of the apartment or worse, punch him in the face.
But he did neither of that, though he did something Akihito absolutely didn't expect.
Ryuichi was way taller than him. Akihito found himself looking up as the plumber stepped closer towards him while keeping an intense eye contact. In his mind, Akihito was planning how to dodge the assault he assumed coming and get away. But his fierce gaze down the photographer was enough to strike him, making him immobile. It caged and cornered his thoughts, leaving him no route to escape. This man, no doubt, was someone you would never want to mess with for behind that captivating looks was a terrifying devil lying within.
Hoping it wouldn't hurt so badly, Akihito anticipated the attack— but it never came.
"I was often told with the same opinion by others like you, Takaba-san. I don't really mind because I really don't give a damn about what they say. However, hearing that kind of compliment from you somehow flatters me in a way I cannot exactly tell. I thought you would never say it out loud, though."
"E-EH!?" Akihito involuntarily backed away as Ryuichi inched nearer. He felt his face grew hotter by seconds.
With a chuckle, Ryuichi spoke with an almost mumbling voice: "In case you don't realize, Takaba-san. Your eyes and face were screaming out how much you are hitting on me."
"WHAAAAT!?" Akihito suddenly wished a black hole would appear under his feet and swallow him whole. He never felt so mortified like this before. "What the hell are you talking about!? God, I never thought some compliment would get into your head like that. Don't you think you look too highly of yourself? That—"
Another intense eye contact with the man's golden eyes and Akihito felt his cool quickly slipping right out of his hands. He knew he sucked in lying, and he bet it reflected on his eyes and expression, not to mention his feverish blush. He felt hopelessly lustful, he became needy out of the blue, and his erection that had risen since the man took his shirt off was so damn painful.
Feeling thoroughly defeated and shameful, Akihito looked down and averted his gaze sideways.
"... A-Am I that obvious?"
"Yes. Takaba-san."
"Ugh," the photographer brought a hand up his head and scratched absentmindedly. Thinking of a plan how to escape the embarrassing scenario, he acted cool and as if he just couldn't help it. "You must be feeling creepy and sick by now. Sorry. Anyway, I think I should just leave you alone and have the sink repaired," he offered a forced smile.
"No, I'm not."
"Eh?"
"You're not the only one, Takaba-san," their gazes met once more. "Funnily enough, I have received numerous indecent proposals from my previous clients. They all have their grandiose offers to me, insuring me a better and wealthier life. Bad for them I have no interest in those."
"O-Okay..." Akihito could feel something half-good, half-bad coming.
"But more funnily, the mere seductive look in your face drew me in. I can see you are dirt poor just like me but you still caught me mesmerized with your eyes. I wonder why?"
"You're getting way too near, don't you think?" Akihito raised both hands up, signaling the man to stop in his tracks.
"Believe it or not, Takaba-san," Ryuichi said as he stopped advancing, his face just some few inches from Akihito's.
"I rarely get aroused."
'No. No. This can't be happening. You must be kidding me!' Now he was literally cornered. He felt lost and out of place inside his own home: a bad sign. A really bad sign.
"That must be pretty painful, Takaba-san. Why don't we relieve ourselves for a while?" Ryuichi looked down his bottom up to his face, a naughty smile played on his lips.
"W-Wait a second, can you hear yourself? Come—" Akihito stood frozen when in a blink of his eyes, Ryuichi's hand slid down his shorts and casually grabbed his hard member. Ryuichi drew himself closer, pushed the short's waistband down to reveal the young man's erected cock.
His hands felt coldly good.
"R-Ryuichi-san, please stop this," Akihito halfheartedly pleaded.
"Hmm?" the man hummed, apparently amused with how Akihito faltered. He reached for his earlobe and gave it a little, teasing bite. He could feel Akihito squirming underneath the touch.
"W-Wait! You can't do—" Akihito couldn't even bring himself to finish his own question as Ryuichi plunged his lips into his for a long, searing, open-mouthed kiss. That had the photographer held captive by the man's assault. It felt so good, sinfully so good, that he knew he would regret it if he kept being hypocrite and deny.
Therefore he gave in, seeing the older man taking control.
He wound his arms around the man's neck, wanting more. He felt his cold hands slowly crawling down his shorts and tugged the waistband downwards, the garment quietly slid down the floor. Ryuichi finally broke their kiss, and Akihito managed to take a deep breath.
"Turn your back," Ryuichi lustfully requested, his authoritative tone drove Akihito out of his mind for an instant. He immediately obeyed, offering his naked buttocks, his torso down the cold, tiled kitchen table.
"Had any experience with this before?" Ryuichi asked from behind. When Akihito shook his head while resting it against the tile, the older man gently placed his hand on the boy's slender waist. With a seductively reassuring voice, he said, "Let me prepare you nice slowly then, Takaba-san."
Akihito felt a tremendous surge of excitement and slight fear all over. He could feel himself whimpering already. Shortly after the promise was a finger gently being slipped inside him, it slid in and out of him, making him helplessly aroused.
One finger, two fingers, coupled with nice, sensual strokes on his erection, and three fingers. He could barely hold himself from screaming.
"AH—!" he yelped as a blunt tip of something big and hard intruded his hole. Ryuichi didn't put his entire length yet, inch by inch he was feeding it into Akihito, and the photographer grew hungrier, more relentless— needier. It felt a little painful, but he didn't care. He even gave his butt a little wiggle, raising a signal and hoping it would help him loosened more.
"Oh no, no," the boy breathed out, lost in desire. "It feels good."
"That's good to hear," Ryuichi said in a sweet, deep voice.
"Goodness... AHH!" Akihito growled when Ryuichi started to thrust slowly. By seconds, the thrusts gained pace, a rhythmic one Akihito could jive, and built strength. It was hard, fast, possessive— delicious. The thrust against his back, and the strokes in his cock: Akihito felt like he was in heaven. So girls must be feeling this way when they were being fucked? 'God, it felt awesome!'
Shortly Akihito neared into his climax, and it came, spurting his release on the sink. He had to clean and wash the floor again later. Then he felt Ryuichi climaxed as well inside him, the warm essence burst inside his body, declaring a proud claim.
"R-Ryuichi-san, I think that's enough. I-I thought you told me the sink will be back to work by dinner, right?" breathless and boneless, Akihito forcibly managed to mumble.
The plumber looked very reluctant to do what he was told, but he did draw himself away from the lustful boy, and wore his calm and approachable yet oppressive demeanor. With his voice back to his normal respectful tone, he agreed. "Yes, of course. I'm now on the finishing touches, there is nothing to worry about."
With weakened knees, Akihito turned around and retrieved his shorts. He hastily slipped into it and pulled a straight face in attempt to act as if nothing happened. He gave the man an awkward but gleeful beam, which Ryuichi returned as a charming smile.
There was a silence— not like that nasty silence they shared moments ago, as though there a strange connection formed between the two of them, before the plumber bent down the sink and set back to work.
"You must be hungry. I'll get some drinks and snack to eat. Well... do you want to stay for dinner? I'll only have curry, but I'll try to cook something more."
"That's so nice of you, Takaba-san. Thank you very much."
Disheveled but satisfied, Akihito graced his lips into a wholehearted smile. "Great!"
And so when finally the sink was usable, the photographer hastily prepared a set of decent dinner for two. The two shared a peaceful and simple dinner: neither of them mentioned their quickie, but rather talked about mundane things regarding their works, family, and interests. There was no extravagant course of meal nor private viewings of skyscrapers but it was somewhat, due to lack of suitable term... magical, with the two of them enjoying each others' company, discovering little sides of one another. All in all, his bastard sink did him a very good favor, and the money he paid was worth the price.
At the end of the night, the great plumber had to bid goodbye. Akihito thought they would go for another round then berated himself again for being such a pervert. He mused they should know each other more, therefore he took the chance of getting the older man's number, which Ryuichi gave without having a second thought, and exchanged emails as well.
"Asami Ryuichi... really, even your name sounds like a badass yakuza boss in Tokyo!"
"Does it?" Ryuichi chuckled upon seeing Akihito's reaction after knowing his full name. "Thank you very much for the meal, Takaba-san. It was really good."
"Please call me Akihito— you're older than me to use the honorific."
"…If you don't mind, then. Akihito."
'Hell yeah, that's much up close and personal!" "Cool! How about I walk you to the station?"
"That won't be necessary. Thank you very much."
"Okay... uhm. By the way," Akihito mumbled as he led his visitor out of his apartment. "I know this is pretty late but... it was fun. The dinner and that... activity we did in the kitchen. I-I hope we can meet up again," he bravely said, his face was blushing feverishly.
"There's no need to hope for that: we will certainly see each other again," Ryuichi reassured. He drew closer to the young man, tilted his chin up and caught his lips into a sweet, passionate kiss.
"Great... I look forward to that," Akihito dreamily whispered when the kiss broke.
Ryuichi wore his shoes, opened the door and took one last look at the young man. Smiling, he bowed and said," Thank you very much. Good night."
Akihito waved his hand goodbye, suddenly feeling lonely. 'Alright— fan boy-ing moment over,' time to go back into reality and start washing the dishes. He hummed a tune as he scrubbed the soiled plates, then for two times the thought of purposely messing the faucet up crossed his mind
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Turning the fish he was frying, Akihito wiped the beaded sweat now forming on his forehead with the back of his hand. It was neither from the heat of the stove nor from the food he was cooking, though. The penthouse he was in had the best ventilation, and he was in a comfortable pair of shirt and boxer shorts matched with a white apron. Rather, the fact that he literally ran to the nearest mart to get the ingredients for the night's dinner was now starting to linger all over his body as he felt slightly hot, sweating profusely all the while.
The repair— replacement of the sink took unsurprisingly long. It was almost six in the evening when the plumbers finally declared that the sink was ready to use. The entire time they spent was ridiculous for a mere damn sink, but Akihito had witnessed the whole process of professionally dismantling of the pipes and the tiring attachment of new ones. The two men finished the whole task without taking a break, just to make sure to get it done on time.
Well, they did— fifteen minutes before dinnertime. That left Akihito rushing to the mart to buy the stuff and set it on cook, within some fifteen odd minutes. Akihito felt peculiar for being such in hurry, but it was more peculiar when Asami sent him a short message, saying he would be home around seven. Asami rarely go home early, given that he was an endless business-occupied, workaholic man. Damn him for overlooking their stocks in the fridge, now he had to act like a hasty housewife in preparation for a weekend dinner. Akihito could only sigh while busily simmering his miso soup next to the frying pan.
He was barely finished with the fish when he heard the front door opened, shortly followed with movements in the living room.
Akihito needed not to turn around when he felt a presence entered the kitchen. The strong arm that snaked around his torso was no surprise to him either. It raised threat, however, because Asami was never a clingy man if he wasn't into some bed action.
Without leaving his attention from his chore, Akihito mumbled. "I'm busy, bastard. Go watch some show on the TV or something; dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."
"Why do I need to wait if I can have the dinner right at this moment?" Asami's baritone voice whispered right into Akihito's right ear, his breath ghosted against his earlobe, making Akihito distracted with his task.
"Cut it out, I have to get this done. I'm starving."
"So am I," Asami's hand moved from the waist down to Akihito's crotch, apparently reaching for his member. That was when the young man had to shrug from the advancing moves before Asami could arouse him that would surely result to skipping dinner, which Akihito couldn't afford.
"Yeah right— but my hunger and your hunger is way too different. I need to eat or else I'll die. We'll get our starvation satiated this night, so for goodness' sake, just wait. But if you're really in a hurry, you go wash those dishes over there while I prepare dinner," the hand that had began to marvel his sensitive spots remained still underneath his boxers. He felt Asami closing in on him, and pecked a teasing kiss on his neck. That made the boy almost give in; he expected the yakuza would drag him to the bedroom and mess him up like the usual, but the idea instantly diminished from his head when Asami did another peculiar behavior tonight: the man let go of Akihito, leaving the boy halfway aroused.
The photographer suddenly felt himself froze. In a blink of an eye, sort of thoughts came flooding in his mind.
'What the hell.. Did Asami just stop right now?' but why? Asami wasn't the type to be stopped when he set his mind into something, especially when it came to Akihito. No matter how he complain or try to escape, Asami could always find a way to trap him in a corner. Unless he was just busy or hungry just like the boy was, Akihito couldn't exactly tell.
'Maybe his hunger for sex was already satiated by someone else, and I'm only his sort of midnight snack?' Akihito found himself contemplating gloomily.
However, all of his thought disappeared from his mind when his expectation of the man retreating to the living room or settling down the dining table never came; instead the sound the tap being turned and clinking of porcelain plates pulled Akihito out of his exaggerated imagination.
Free from his coat and suit, his tie loosely hung over the man's shoulders, Asami folded his sleeves up to his elbows. With a bubbly sponge on his right hand and a plate in the left, he began to scrub the dirt off the porcelain dish.
Akihito couldn't believe it. He was flabbergasted beyond description. Asami Ryuichi, the feared god of the underworld, was now obediently doing what he was told and began washing the fucking dishes like a loving husband.
If Asami's hand was unsuccessful of completely arousing Akihito to steal him away from his food, this very rare sight did it. Akihito indulged himself of the view of Asami intently washing the dishes, very thoroughly in each plate and cup. He could feel his manhood rose into a full erection, he had to deal with it later but he could care less as of yet. Keeping his eyes glued on the busy man, he mixed the miso sound absentmindedly.
"It's rare of you not washing the dishes on time. I thought you took an off?" without looking at his lover, Asami asked.
"E-Eh? Oh, the sink's actually replaced with a new one. The entire process of replacement took the whole afternoon, and I didn't realize we only had few stash left to make a decent set of dinner so I had to run to the mart to buy the ingredients," he truthfully explained. "It's your fault for suddenly turning up so early out of a whim. Mind to enlighten me of why on earth did you rush back home tonight?"
It seemed the man was now about to rinse the plates. "Why, Akihito. Is it strange to go home early to spend some good time with your lover because it's his day-off? I thought it's one of the basic obligations of a responsible partner."
That, in Akihito's honest opinion, was the most nonchalant yet cheesiest thing Asami had ever said that it was even close to a love confession. Now he just felt like forgetting the dinner and pounce at the yakuza to get devoured.
"Y-Yeah right, as if you really mean that. Well, if you meant to pull me into your series of vigorous rounds of sex longer than the usual then that would closely fit to your definition of 'good time.'"
Asami glanced at his direction, saw him blushing furiously contrary to his cheeky remark, flashed his prominent smirk and said, "You're getting it fast, Akihito." Then he proceeded to rinsing the glasses.
Both men worked silently on their own chores for a while, Akihito tried to finish his task first. Judging that the miso soup was tasty enough, the boy turned the stove off and moved towards the yakuza, intending to get the washed dishes.
Akihito grabbed a clean, dry cloth and stood next to Asami. "I didn't expect you can actually wash plates," Akihito commented, wiping a plate dry.
"Of all people, you should be the one who must be aware of the things I can do, Akihito," Asami sarcastically commented.
"Yeah, I must admit that despite how much we've been spending time together in and out of the bed, you still surprise me with all the things you can actually do. You washing the dishes like a caring husband right now is one. If only I found it sooner, I would have you wash them every night. Seriously, you're driving me insane every single day, bastard."
"You know, Akihito," Asami was finally finished with his task in hand. "You're giving me suggestive signals, and it looks to me that your hunger can wait for another hour."
"Oy— wait a sec— !" Akihito could barely construct a comprehensive sentence when Asami tugged the cloth he was holding, cornered him against the sink, and indulged himself with the younger man's lips. Akihito made some muffled sounds, trying to say whatever curse or resistance he had to swear. Both his hands were held gently together at the small of his back, while the yakuza nudged his now erected crotch against the boy's, declaring his want to be sated. Asami immediately felt Akihito's response that perfectly matched his own.
Catching breath, they broke the kiss. Their eyes met, silently speaking, calculating. Akihito supposed he should spit some swear words more, try to get his way out of it, and have his glorious dinner. But with Asami's intense gaze boring down on him and his voiceless demand, Akihito could do nothing but to stare back, thinking the man deserved some reward after washing the dishes voluntarily. The silence that settled between them was unnerving, and Akihito opted to wait for the man to do whatever he wanted to him.
'Ah, hell. Forget it!' Akihito doubted he could get any dinner for the night. The food would be such a waste, but he just had to sneak out later and stuff them on the fridge to reheat them the next day.
Well, anyway.
And so, their so-called ordinary day began and ended the same way, but not necessarily. For one thing: he learned something new about his lover, and it wasn't like you could get Great Asami Ryuichi wash the dishes everyday! It felt like this unraveling of new discoveries about each other was just about to begin, and Akihito promised himself he would look so forward to it.
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A/N 2: Please don't ask me why the hell, of all jobs and professions on earth, did I turn Asami Ryuichi into a plumber. I DON'T KNOW WHY EITHER.