"Have you ever considered becoming nocturnal?" he quips as he watches his lover slide with his characteristic panther-like grace into his seat at the dining table to partake of the meal Akihito has laid out for him. Rather typically, it is well after midnight and Asami has only just arrived home from work. Work, thinks Akihito darkly, if that's what you even call whatever it is that he does. He's stopped trying to find out. Mostly. Stopped trying to pretend his presence here in the luxury penthouse is only temporary. Mostly.
Asami picks up his chopsticks and looks at him out of the corners of his amber eyes, one eyebrow cocked in amusement, his lip quirking a little.
"What," he says in his rich voice, " and miss the pleasure of helping you deal with your morning erections?"
Akihito blushes to the roots of his hair and glares at the billionaire, who is now sedately eating rice and mixed vegetables and fish as though he hasn't just said something outrageous.
"I…you…I'm not the one who…YOU get them too," he stammers, which only serves to irritate him further, because he's pretty sure he's never going to be able to come up with a single witty rejoinder to one of Asami's jabs, not if he lives to be a hundred years old. Which, by the way, he actually has sworn to do since that's how old Asami says he's going to have to be in order to successfully subdue his lover and Akihito has sworn to see the day no matter how long that means he has to cling to life. The fact that this'll make Asami about a hundred and ten is irrelevant. Asami's probably not going to age at all, the bastard.
"What an interesting expression," muses the older man. "What are you thinking about so hard, Takaba?"
"Better handcuffs," growls Akihito darkly, and then wishes his balls didn't clench at the warm, rich sound of Asami's low chuckle, the one that speaks of dark desires and the futility of resistance.
"I would let you borrow mine," he purrs, "for a price."
"I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford it," grumbles Akihito. "Now shut up and eat your dinner."
"It's very good," smiles Asami, giving in to the change of subject, which is unlike him. "Thank you, Akihito."
"You're welcome," he says, not really very grudgingly, because Asami doesn't pay compliments he doesn't mean. "How was your day, anyway?"
"Fairly productive," says Asami casually, finishing the last bite of his meal and pushing his chair back from the table. He puts his dishes in the sink, rinsing them himself and ignoring for the thousandth time Akihito's protest that he doesn't have to do it. Asami is a tidy person, and though he argues, Takaba appreciates that he also is careful not to treat his young lover like his house slave. Love slave, perhaps, but not his servant. The meals and some housework are just so that Takaba feels that he contributes, and is not Ryuichi's kept boy. They are both aware of this, though neither of them says it out loud. Asami goes to the living room, gracefully slouching his long form into one of the deep leather chairs, lighting a dunhill and looking out the glass at the Tokyo skyline. He holds out a hand to Akihito, who is feeling mollified by the dinner compliment and comes to Asami's hand without the usual fuss. Asami tugs gently at his wrist and he topples into the older man's lap, where he lays his head on Asami's shoulder and waits for him to finish his smoke, while Asami's free hand traces circles around the little bumps of Takaba's spine.
"I had a phone call today," says Asami casually.
"Oh? From whom?" asks Akihito curiously, because Asami doesn't talk to him about his work very often, not in any detail.
"From Feilong," says Asami softly. Akihito tenses a little at the mention of the Chinese tong leader's name. Liu Feilong's is a name fraught with tensions and ramifications and unresolved emotions so convoluted it makes his head hurt.
"What did he want?" mutters Akihito into Asami's shoulder. The hand on his back strokes down his spine in a long, reassuring glide.
"He's coming to town on business in a few days," says Asami casually, ignoring his lover's tension. "He says he has something he wishes to discuss with me."
"Oh," says Akihito in a small voice.
"Aki," says Asami softly, pressing his lips to the boy's throat so that his words vibrate against skin and Takaba shivers. "I want to talk to you about something, and I want to ask you to be honest with me."
It sounds a lot like Asami is actually ASKING, which is so patently bizarre that Akihito agrees without thinking about it too much.
"I need you to know….no," he pauses, think for a moment, then continues, and his behavior is still very strange, "I need you to believe that I'm not going to be angry, whatever your answer is. Akihito…it is important to me, to know the truth of what you feel. It…is not an easy question."
Takaba frowns. Asami hardly ever asks; he demands, or takes, or forces. He's pretty sure the question has to do with Feilong, and wonders if at long last Asami is about to demand to know what happened between Akihito and the Chinese while he was being held in Hong Kong. He doesn't want to talk to Asami about it, because some of it is entirely too strange, but he supposes it is his lover's right to ask.
"I….yes, Asami. I'll try."
"Takaba….are you attracted to Feilong?"
Akihito's brain grinds to a screeching halt at the utterly unexpected question, and for several long seconds, words of denial bubble into his throat demanding to be spoken, insisting that he tell Asami what the man surely wants to hear, that he loudly deny the absurdity of any such thing, but his thoughts fill with images of Feilong's cock in his mouth, sliding down his throat, and the deep ache of Asami slamming cruelly into his ass from behind and he shivers a little.
"Yes," he whispers, because Asami has asked for, and not demanded, the truth. He tenses, waiting for the accusations, the recriminations to begin, or for Asami to decide to prove once again his ownership of Akihito's body. Instead, the lips against his throat curve into a smile. This startles Akihito into asking a question of his own.
"A…Asami?"
"Hm?"
"Are YOU?"
"Do you know anything at all about the circumstances of my first meetings with Feilong?" asks Asami, which is not an answer, and yet Takaba doesn't get the feeling he's avoiding the question.
"A little," he admits. "Though I'm not sure how much of it is true."
"Hm. Well, if it came from Feilong's lips, it's colored with the pain of what he thought he saw, what he chose to believe at the time, but I suppose that's not what is important right now," muses Asami. "We were very nearly lovers," he confesses softly. "Would have been, had not his brother laid a terrible trap for him before it could happen."
"Did you want to?" asks Akihito curiously, fascinated at the thought of an Asami younger than he is now, and Feilong younger still, for he's certain Asami is older than Feilong by at least a few years.
"Oh yes," whispers Asami. "I wanted to. So did he."
"That would have been an interesting struggle for dominance," chuckles the young man, imagining the two men like great hunting cats circling one another and spitting and swiping at each other trying to decide who would be in charge.
"Hm," muses the billionaire, his voice like dark silk, "no…I don't believe it would have been a struggle at all…."
Akihito feels his cock start to stir inside his jeans, thickening as he thinks of the two of them together, startling him, for he is very jealous of Asami's other lovers despite his protests to the contrary. Not that Asami has others anymore, but he has had in the past, and many. Until this moment, Akihito has wanted to disembowel every one of them with a dull, rusty spoon. Oh, until now. From the tone in Asami's voice, it would not have been he who submitted to Feilong's advances. Takaba gasps a little, and Asami chuckles, his hand sliding around to palm the boy's growing erection
"So to answer your question, sweet Aki," whispers Asami, pressing the flat of his hand rhythmically against Takaba's now fully roused cock, "Oh yes. Yes, I am attracted to Feilong."
"Hngh," whimpers Akihito, arching against his lover's hand. "Why….why are you asking…an…anyway? What….what difference does it make? Ungh, Asami, stop it, I'm gonna come if you don't."
"Oh, you're going to come," Asami assures him, though he withdraws his hand and Akihito whimpers a bit at the loss of friction. "Soon. As to why I am asking, my cute Takaba, I would like to know what YOU would like to do about it."
"I….what?" The question is so startling that Takaba is flabbergasted. Asami puts his hands on the young photographer's hips and urges him to turn around until he's straddling Asami's lap, and Takaba becomes aware that they are both hard.
"Tell me, Aki," purrs Asami, pressing his mouth once again to the boy's throat, his hands sliding under his shirt and down the back of Akihito's jeans, a fingertip toying with the top of his crease, "what shall we do with this mutual attraction we feel for our difficult Chinese friend? He has been most exceptionally naughty towards my property, has he not?"
Akihito is too transported by the words spilling from Asami's lips to even put up a token protest at being called property.
"I…," he gasps, grinding himself against Asami's hardness, "You….are you serious?"
"Mm," agrees Asami, pressing up against Takaba. "Oh yes. Do you not agree he should be punished…severely…for what he did to you?"
"Hng," pants Akihito, tugging on Asami's hair, which the older man allows with only a very faint growl of warning, pulling his head back to kiss him hungrily, his body suddenly on fire with what his lover is saying. His desire for vengeance against Liu Feilong had been subsumed by his pity for the lonely man during his enforced stay with him, but it rages back to life now at Asami's words. "Yessss," he hisses. "But how?"
"Oh, I have thoughts," mutters Asami against Akihito's mouth, "but you were the injured party, my good boy, and I would hear what sort of punishment you would devise. Tell me what you think, and then we can work out the…intimate details…together."
Akihito shoves Asami's vest off his shoulders and goes to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. It is bespoke, from Milan, and the fabric is like silk under his fingers, even though it is not. Asami grins wolfishly and pulls Akihito's t-shirt over his head at a pause in the actions.
"Ohh," sighs Akihito deliciously when Asami dips his head to swirl his tongue around one of the boy's small pink nipples. He rocks against his lover and nods approvingly when Asami's clever hands thumb open the top button of his jeans and tug at the zipper. Bit by bit they divest one another of clothing as Takaba begins to speak. "What if," he muses, gasping a little when a thumb slides over the wet tip of his cock, "what if you tell him I…ohhhh….I won't stop….ungh…talking about him, about that time at….oh!...At the hot springs…"
"Hm," muses Asami, shoving the jeans down Akihito's hips and lifting the boy with one arm to pull them off AND to open his pressed slacks and free his thick cock, and how is it even fair that the man can be this fucking good at this? "Go on, your thoughts have merit." Takaba's response, however, is prevented by the fact that Asami shoves two fingers into his panting mouth even as he tells him to go on, muttering "suck," as he does so. Akihito glares at Asami while obediently coating the fingers with slick saliva. When they are removed, he pouts a little.
"How am I supposed to go on with your fingers in my…..AHH…."
"My fingers in your what?" asks Asami innocently, as he presses one of them into Akihito's tight pucker. Akihito squirms and groans. "Tell me, Aki," he urges, "tell me what you'd have us do to our bad Feilong."
"Tell him," gasps Aki, pressing himself down onto Asami's finger, which is joined quicky by the other one, "ohh…tell him I won't stop talking about it. He…Ah…Asami…oh, feels good…he'll believe you."
"I rather think you're right," agrees Asami with a smile. "His arrogance will demand that he believe it."
"Unn…yeah, that's what I mean…ohh Asami…put it….put it in me, please…I want you to….he…he'll believe it. Specially if you…" Akihito's words are strangled by a guttural moan as Asami grants his whispered plea and presses the head of his fat cock, slick with precome, against Takaba's loosened hole, easing past his clenching ring gently. Asami is not often gentle, but he is tonight, and there is no pain, only a faint burn at the stretch which is completely overwhelmed by the intense pleasure of being sweetly filled by his lover's wonderful heavy cock.
"Go on," urges Asami, arching his hips to fuck slowly up into Akihito's hungry little hole. "Tell me what you want, Aki."
"Specially if you tell him you want to watch him….ngh…fuck me."
"I like the way you're thinking," purrs Asami darkly, pressing harder, the head of his cock finding Akihito's sweet spot. Aki cries out and clenches hard around Asami, who sucks in his breath through his nose. "Don't stop talking," he warns. "Tell me, Aki. Tell me how you want him punished, and I'll come in your tight little ass when you're done." Akihito whines and moans and writhes, but he finds his voice.
"Bring him here," he whimpers. "Set it up li…ohh Asami…like a s…seduction scene from the big r..romance movies."
"Such a clever boy," breathes Asami, his fingers closing around Akihito's quivering cock.
"L…let him do it…"
"Let him?' gasps Asami. "You mean let him fuck you, my pretty pet? Let him lay you down on OUR bed and push his cock into your tight hole? Is that what you want?"
Akihito doesn't know if he's on dangerous ground or not, but it's too late to back down now.
"Yes," he cries, squirming as Asami fucks up into his hole a little harder. "Yes…Asami…it made you hard when I s…sucked his cock… you liked it. Let him. Wa…watch him f…fucking me. Ohh. Ah. Then…hungh….then when he's….when he's lost in it, when he's….not looking…at you…"
"Mm," growls Asami. "Oh Aki, I think I like where you are going with this. Tell me."
"Asami," whines Akihito, "I'm gonna come."
"Tell me," snarls Asami, "then come."
"When…oh, oh, oh…when he's not looking…Asami…sneak up behind him and…ahh…take him. Oh please!"
"Take him?"
"Take him, fuck him, fuck us both, make it hurt him, Asami, fuck him hard and it'll…AH, AH, oh now, please now….it'll fuck him into me…I want…oh, oh…I want you…Asami…make him scream!"
And Akihito throws back his head and shouts as he comes all over Asami's hand and their bellies and Asami snarls and fills the boy's hole with his spunk, hissing through his teeth as his pleasure takes him. They shudder and lean against each other, gasping.
"You devious little brat," muses Asami admiringly after a few minutes. "I wouldn't have thought you had it in you. I am impressed."
"You're not mad?"
"Mad?" asks Asami in amazement, pulling his head back to look into Akihito's eyes. His heavy-lidded amber gaze is smug and pleased. "I'm practically still hard for you, Aki. I couldn't have come up with a better plan myself. I'd been trying to think of a plan that didn't further victimize you, and you come up with THIS. It's magnificent, Aki."
"Do you think you can make him cry, Asami?" whispers Akihito curiously, wondering a little where his sympathy for Feilong has gone all of a sudden, but terribly fascinated by the mental image of looking back over his shoulder to where Feilong is held between them, his cock buried in Takaba's ass, his lovely black eyes shining with tears, his pretty mouth swollen as he bites his lip against whimpers and cries, trembling and shivering as Asami forces the gangster's tight, virgin ass open wide with his intimidatingly large cock.
"I," promises Asami fervently, "am certainly going to try."
"Good."