Author's Note: For my burning fire, I don't know any other worlds but ours, I don't live any other life but yours and mine.
The Target series by Ayano Yamane are not mine. This fiction and the characters are only inspired by her fictions. Everything else, characters, plots and events are coincidental and purely just inspirational. Novice writer so pardon my poor grammar. This is written purely for entertainment and fan made. Flames and hate mails are made by people who has no manners, so don't say you were not warned. And if you're willing to write bad criticism check yours first and yes, be brave enough to put your real name and email address. And this has explicit content, minors keep out.
I thought I could pretend I didn't care. I tried pushing you out of my mind but there are so many things that reminds me of you. No, not familiar things. We never shared a lot of moments together just random situations often times when you are saving my life. I hated you, hated from your skin to your touch. But how come I'm longing for them now…his brutal kisses, his demanding touches? Is this some kind of curse? That I would live the rest of my life knowing and feeling only Asami's brutal love?
Why is it fate always bringing me to his doorstep? Why is it in every tight situation, and having been caught with my pants down that he is the one to be the likely candidate to be there at that very moment?
I woke up with an ache in my head, Fei Long had finally given up on torturing me. What is it about that man, why does he hate me so much? Is it because of Asami?
I drifted off again. When I woke up, I felt something smooth and silky brush my face, when I opened my eyes, it was Asami, tucking me in bed, the silky touch is the satin sheets of his bed that my body had gotten accustomed to, like the man himself. Suave, smooth and elegant. He always smells nice, hair always in place, and yes, very handsome. I'm also a man so how could I fall for him? Is it because he was my very first? A brutal awakening to sex by Ryuichi Asami of the Japanese mafia.
"No…Asami…stop!" I moaned, trying so hard not to moan but with this man, I felt my body melting by his touch. I almost swooned when he took me in his mouth, licking every part of my being, demanding, needing and pleasing. Even when having sex, Asami is so cool and collected. When he shoved my face to swallow his need, I forgot myself and took him in my mouth eagerly, moaning at the pleasure and the taste of this man.
Asami kissed the boy roughly, shoving him back in the bed, dividing the boy's legs and plunged his digits in him, Akihito cried out in pleasure and pain.
"You are hurting me." He cried.
"Your lips should only be used for me. The only reason why you can walk in this side of the world is because of me. Everything about you, to the last strand of your hair is mine." Asami said, his voice is calm and cold as he plunged himself inside the boy.
"You are my property, my sweet Akihito." Asami said, and lunged his face on the boy, claiming those lip now already bruised from his kisses. Breathless, the boy could only succumbed to his brutal love.
Asami returned him two days after, he didn't stop taking Akihito over and over again, until the boy almost passed out from exhaustion. "Now I had rid your body of traces of Fei Long. Don't ever let him touch you again." Asami said.
"As if you have the right to touch me, you don't own me, I'm not your toy." Akihito said, defiantly. But despite of his words, every time he is near the mafia lord, all his senses and reasoning are gone with the wind.
Akihito lay curled on the bed. He was crying. He wanted to push Asami away, he wanted him to deny the pleasure of taking advantage of him, of raping him over and over again. But is it really rape? Could there be rape when there's pleasure in it? When he also enjoys it every time Asami takes him.? He is like silly putty in the palm of this brutal man.
Asami is like the Autumn….mysteriously brooding, like the dark days before autumn sets in…a period when summer ends and when winter begins. And I'm like the decaying maple leaves, turning from bright red…then yellow and orange before it withers and die. Why? Why do I compare myself that way? When Asami gets tired of his new toy, I would be like those decaying maple leaves at its last effort of holding on before the winter air blows it away. He had broken me, every time he touches me now, I don't resist anymore. As if my body knows it belongs to him, it only knows his kisses, it only knows his touches…it only respond to him…even just by the sound of his voice. No matter how I try to find solution for my sanity, no matter how I try to substitute his touches with mine, freed myself from this carnal desire to be loved by the mafia lord, it remained hopeless, my hands only releases the tension but not the need to feel the man himself. I even have the craving for doing all the things he wants me to do to him…I shudder…I shake…like an addict trying to rehabilitate ones' self to the addiction, but it's too late. Too late now, the sickness has affected my entire body. And my only cure goes by one name, Ryuichi Asami, the head scion of the mafia underworld.
Kou and Takoto watched their friend grew from the dedicated and lively photojournalist to an unhappy and withdrawn person. They knew it has something to do with that man who always picks up Akihito in unusual places and unusual circumstances, his limo always happen to be there in the nick of time whenever Akihito needed him. But every time they try to talk to him or ask him about that handsome man with a chauffeured car, the photographer clamps up, and has that face he has right now.
When I think of you, I just become restless, I act like someone else without knowing. I have called you a couple of times, in various places so you wouldn't know it was me. I just want to hear your voice. Like an addict looking for a quick fix, those dropped calls save me my sanity.
Asami knew it was his boy. His. He chortled to himself, how could he claim someone he had raped a couple of times? Yes, Akihito submits to him now. But, still no matter what happens he can't admit that he had fallen for the boy. Even the last drop of my blood belongs to you, my sweet Akihito.
The last encounter with Fei Long when the Chinese mafia lord kidnapped his precious Akihito almost drove him to madness. He was badly hurt but even with injury he tried to rescue his fallen lover. The last memory was a fleeting glance from the boy, saving him from being shot by Fei Long, that's why he was captured. It had been going on for seven years, Fei Long's hate turned to grudge because he had chosen a mere photojournalist over him. And Akihito is caught in between.
I miss you. I thought I would die. I could even breathe my pain. It wouldn't even subside even just a little bit. Asami threw the glass on the wall. I'm turning to stone, is it because I'm trying hard to be numb? He asked himself. He looked out the window of his high rise penthouse suite. Maybe because I'm trying to rip out all emotions out of my system, I can't have any…not for you….not for anybody. I am destined to be alone. Die with my wealth…die with my power.
I'm trying not to think. I'm trying not to remember. I'm trying not to miss you, my sweet Akihito. If I miss you. If I think of you, my heart feels like it's tearing apart. Each breathe I take feels like the stab of a knife, a bullet from a gun, I can't stand it anymore. But still, even when I bury all my emotions and just rush through life…live and die young….
I'm going mad. My Akihito….I'm going mad because I miss you.
The phone rang again. "If you're going to call me, let me hear your voice, Akihito." Asami said. He heard a gasp. The mafia lord chuckled. "I will come to you, I just need to finish some business I will meet you later."
"Who says I want to see you?" Akihito whined, breaking the silence.
"Isn't it the reason why you've been calling me twenty times every hour for the past three days?" Asami remarked coldly.
Akhito made a sound. Trying to protest.
"I miss you, too, my sweet Akihito. I would see you soon." Asami said, quietly.
Akihito felt his heart jumped when he heard those words from him, "I would be waiting." He said and hung up the phone.
He shut down the computer and turned off the light. Tonight he would forget he is Ryuichi Asami. Tonight he was just Asami…the Asami that Akihito whisper with every moans and groans when he is under his lover. Yes…lover. No matter how and any which way he turns it, him and the boy are lovers. He smiled. Tonight and any other moments he is with the boy, he doesn't care. Because tonight and all those moments, he is just Asami and no one else. Akihito's lover…and that's all he wants to be.
He flipped his phone, "Send the car up front, I'm heading down." He said and turned off the phone. After an hour he was pulling up Akihito's driveway.
Akihito fell asleep while waiting for him, but he left the door unlock, as if he was really expecting for Asami to show up. Asami undressed and climbed into the bed. Akihito felt light and gentle kisses. He thought he was dreaming.
"Where you waiting long?" Asami whispered in his ear.
"Asami."
The boy opened his eyes. Somehow Asami kisses were different, he rubbed his eyes and the man started kissing him again. "I miss you." Asami whispered.
Akihito groaned…it's a lot gentler but it is Asami. "I miss you, too." Akihito whispered. Asami covered his body with his.
"No more games, okay? Tonight and all the other moments we're alone, I'm yours. Just yours and I'm just Asami, your Asami." He said, undressing the boy.
Akihito nodded weakly, "Yes, mine. And only mine." He whispered, closing his eyes. And with that they made love to each other like how they were supposed to the first time, gentle…sweet…and with so much love. They may be different in so many ways, Asami may be the Autumn and Akihito is the Summer. But here in this room, they are just one, their bodies answered only to each other, familiar only with each other. The underworld forgotten…real life…real truths are a distant memory. Because only here, the only truth and the only life that exist is each other.
Owari
A/N: I DO APPRECIATE CONSTRUCTIVE CRISTICISM BUT IF YOU'RE SUGGESTING THAT I CHANGE MY PLOT AND MY STORY, TELL ME THIS, IF YOUR IDEA WAS SO GREAT, HOW COME I'M THE ONE WITH THE STORY AND YOU DON'T? JUST DON'T FORGET THIS, I WROTE THIS AND MADE THIS. I KNOW THERE ARE GRAMMAR ERRORS AND SUCH, MY ENGLISH MAY NOT BE GREAT. BUT YOU MIGHT BE FORGETTING, I'M THE ONE WHO WROTE SOMETHING, YOU GOT NADA. SO IF YOU GOT NOTHING GOOD TO SAY TAKE YOUR TRASH AND HARSH REMARKS SOMEWHERE ELSE.
AS FOR THOSE PEOPLE WHO REALLY UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, THANK YOU, FOR THE SUPPORT AND THE HELP. I'M TRYING TO IMPROVE, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE HELP.