Title: No Strings Attached
Fandom: Viewfinder
Rating: M
Pairing: Takaba Akihito/Asami Ryuichi
Disclaimer: Characters ain't mine, yo.
A/N: Wrote this in like... thirty minutes. xD Okay, it took me longer than that, but you get the point. It was rushed. It's not that great. I barely edited it. To be honest, I just like the sex scene. I hope you will too, haha. Oh, and I warn you... the ending's somewhat sappy. Don't blame me, I'm a romantic. Kind of.
----------No Strings Attached----------
Asami ordered me a cocktail. He ordered himself a wet martini. His plan was to get me drunk, take me back to his apartment, vulnerable and defenseless, and fuck me dry. No strings attached. Just sex, nothing else.
He watched me, as I played with the miniature umbrella in my cocktail, my elbow on the table, resting my chin against the heel of my palm. Not very mannerly, especially for the group I was dining with, but I didn't care. I eyed Asami from across the table. The waiter entered. Everyone ordered. Mr. Obata chuckled and lit his Cuban cigar.
"Please excuse me," his wife, Mrs. Obata, spoke up. She lifted herself up and headed over to the Ladies Room.
I shifted glances. One half of the table was gossiping, while a small group of two or three was sharing stories of their travels, and then there was Asami, isolated, igniting a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, glimpsing at me from the corner of his eye. I got up and took Mrs. Obata's empty seat, which was situated next to Asami's. Asami turned himself around and blew a trail of smoke in the opposite direction. I edged closer to him, reaching around his shoulder, removing the cigarette from his lips and taking a long drag for myself. He got me into smoking. Such a dirty habit. Asami was watched me. I placed the cigarette in one of the many crystal ashtrays spread amongst the table and crushed it with my index finger. I was a few inches from his face, tugging on his necktie, loosening it and opening the first four buttons of his shirt. I must've been daring and he must've been willing, because he never would've let me do this if it were any other situation. I let my hand slip beneath the fabric of his shirt, smoothing over his wide chest; brushing against his nipples and feeling them harden. No one at the table noticed, I was so subtle. I could feel Asami's eyes, staring at me with an intense hunger. Mrs. Obata returned with a slight appalled look on her face.
"May I have my seat back?" She asked.
"Oh, yes. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Obata." I said, quickly gathering myself and pulling out the chair for Mrs. Obata to sit.
"That's quite alright, my boy."
Silence.
"Excuse me." I briefly glanced at Asami before rushing off to the Men's Room.
"Why, I—" Mrs. Obata began.
"Excuse me." Asami echoed, following after me.
I could hear Asami enter the washroom. All the stall doors appeared shut. I knew I was noticeable. He heard me faintly from the furthest cubicle. He slowly walked over, his shoes clicking against the marble tiled floor. He pushed on my stall door. It was unlocked, and I was inside. He had caught me, to put it bluntly, in the middle of masturbating. Asami grinned at me.
"It's rude to leave a dinner table. Especially for such inexplicable reasons such as this."
"Ah…" I whimpered, fumbling with the buckle on my trousers.
"Tsk tsk. You constantly disrespect your elders. You should be punished."
"Punish me, then." I whimpered.
Asami smiled. I was teasing him, and he couldn't contain himself any longer. He entered the cubicle and hastily locked the door behind him. Almost instantly, he shoved me against the wall and kissed me roughly, forcing his entire tongue into my mouth. We exchanged saliva, our tongues swirling. I felt my knees lock and my body go limp. Asami ran his hands up the front of my torso, scratching at the hem of my jacket and uncovering it off my shoulders. Our mouths were meshed together, moving rapidly. Asami began to speed up. He unbuttoned my dress shirt and tossed it on the floor. His tongue strayed from my mouth, traced my jawbone, and slid up towards my earlobe, which he hungrily sucked and nibbled on.
"Ngh…" I furrowed my eyebrows, my nose wrinkling. I could feel my erection straining against the fabric of my pants. Asami strayed again, his tongue traveling down my neck, arching his back so he could reach my collarbone and provoke me all the more. I finished unfastening the buttons on Asami's shirt. I quickly tore it off his chest, caressed the back of his neck and let my fingers run through his hair. Asami crouched down, his tongue slithering down the centre of my abdomen. I felt my stomach muscles clenching and convulsing uncontrollably.
"Haa…" I breathed heavily. Asami removed my bottoms, until I was completely nude. He stood back up and removed his own; aggresively flipped me around, stepped in close to my body, and stroked the inner area of my thighs with both hands. His hands slid back up, along my hipbones and up my slender figure, grazing my nipples with his fingertips.
"I'm going to fuck you raw." Asami whispered into the shell of my ear, his breath heated.
"Ha… do it… ha… fuck me…" I panted.
Asami gripped my waist, and straddled my buttocks. He let his own mid-section slip into me, pressing me against the cold, hard wall of the cubicle. He began thrusting, slowly at first, then more vigorously. His movements became wild and untamable, pumping me hard.
"Ah!" I moaned, gritting my teeth.
"Mpfh," I said again, "harder… ha… ha…" My breathing was flustered. My mouth opened wide with expressed ecstasy. Asami reached beneath me and grabbed my erection. He gently wrapped his four fingers around it and stroked the tip of the digit with his thumb. A static shock pulsed through every nerve in my body.
"Oh God," I cried, "no more! I'm going to explode!"
Asami chuckled and continued.
"Asami! You bastard! Ha… ha… stop!"
"Beg me." Asami ordered, working both ends of me faster and harder, the friction becoming unbearable.
"Please… please Asami, I beg of you, stop!"
Pressure began to build up in both of us.
"Fuck!" I shouted, draining myself on Asami's hand. Asami emptied himself inside of me soon after.
"Shut up," Asami scolded, taking in heavy breaths of oxygen, "you don't want anyone to hear you, do you?"
"Maybe," breathe, "they might just be perverted like you," breathe, "and get off to the sound of someone in pain."
Asami lifted his arm and stuck his finger in my mouth, wiping the rest of the white, sticky liquid on the corners of my lips.
"Don't lie," Asami smirked, "you weren't in pain. You love it when I make you beg." He slowly pulled himself out of me. Fuck him for being right all the time. He nipped at the side of my neck. I shivered beneath him.
"Bastard."
He began to dress himself, "come on. They'll wonder where we are."
I was worn out. I stood there quivering. I felt so weak. He did it again. Am I just his puppet? No, even puppets have strings attached. We have nothing.
Back at the table, Mr. Obata was still sucking on his Cuban, his toupee tossed on the table. His wife was picking access olive out of her teeth. They sure were classy. My meal was cold.
"Where were you two this whole time? You missed the funniest story!" One of the guests, Ms. Minekura, asked.
"Sorry for being gone so long. We both had to make very important calls."
I nodded and smiled. Of course, I had to. Our relationship was constantly masked. I stared once again, from the opposite end of the table, into the void of Asami's eyes, and wondered... would he would ever love me in return?