Chapter 1, Part 2.
Ima srsly kill someone - this website is SUCH a pain in the ass for saving and formatting! GAH!
Warnings: Swearing, Yaoi, Murder.
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Akihito gasps silently into the deafeningly loud room from where he lingers over by the bar, watching the scene, this man entering the room. It's only a second, perhaps even less but there's a moment - just one - where this mans - Asami's - molten golden eyes seem to flicker to Akihito's - only, and linger, boring into them as if beckoning him and seeking him out, summoning him forward and down, down into this mans infinite abyss.
Time seems to stop.
Akihito can't breathe, can't hear as his heartbeat pounds in his skull as those eyes inexplicably paralyse him, burn him, scorch him and leave him feeling vulnerable, spread open and naked under that knowing, all encompassing gaze - and why does he feel like he's seen those eyes before?
The photographers mouth opens, to do what, say what he doesn't know but before he knows it - it's gone, the man's attention moving on smoothly, simply and suddenly as he greets his guests with an easy stance and a casual wave of the hand. The silence fades and the hustle and bustle of the room returns, time returning to normal after that - everyone bowing, cowering and simpering, like mere peasants before a king.
The photographer falters slightly where he's stood, asking himself what just had happened, his heart pounding, body trembling with an unknown energy, adrenaline and shortness of breath that can't be explained away by having a little too much to drink. He hasn't had many girlfriends, not even had much experience with women at all - but there was something in the way that the man had looked at him with those golden eyes, the intent in them. There was something in the way in which that look had made Akihito's stomach tighten deliciously, how it had sent a shiver up his spine and had made him hot under the collar, and weak at the knees.
He feels like he needs some air.
Some twenty minutes later, when Akihito comes back from the bathroom where he had splashed his face with of cold water and told himself to get it together - the guests are already filing unhurriedly through to the dining room for dinner, to another room that's sumptuously decorated with a huge fireplace, long dining table and velvet draped windows. He joins the cue and tries to fit in, feeling embarrassingly out of his depth with these old coots and this strange host and he jumps, yelping when he feels a subtle yet unrelenting force at his lower back - a hand.
Turning and seeing, he blushes when it turns out to be none other than Asami himself, who had seemingly hung back to join the last of the group.
"Takaba, I'm glad you could make it. I do hope the room and clothes are to your liking…You look..."
Akihito starts when he hears what he thinks is some sort of growl from the man beside him, though Asami doesn't try to finish the sentence. Leaving silence between them for a moment.
"Y-yeah…"
Despite himself Akihito is lost for words, whether from the way his name had rolled off of this mans tongue so intimately - or at the shame at having worn the suit laid out for him like he were some kind of kept woman. Or scratch that, it could even be because of the large hand currently splayed at the bottom of his spine or the man's breath hitting his ear, but he shivers. Regaining his senses though and dodging away from the warm hand soon after, nodding stiffly and thanking Asami for going to all the trouble for him and the invitation - the invitation that he would very much like to know by the way, why and how he got in the first place.
"Oh yeah uh, thanks for that - I uh, I didn't think to pack a suit or anything…"
He fidgets from the mans sheer closeness, feeling just a tiny bit guilty about the concealed camera in his sleeve and he can't help but bite his lip as he debates just how to ask, or even approach the subject of 'hey I'm grateful for the invite old dude, but why the fuck am I here.'
He doesn't notice that lingering stare, how Asami is watching him nibble at his bottom lip, making it plump and pink - almost enough to bleed. He doesn't notice how the man licks his own lips slightly, how he undresses him with his eyes and notes every erogenous zone on Akihito's body - wondering just how wonderfully sensitive this boy will be. Akihito does note though, again with some alarm, that hand that reacquaints itself with his waist once more, the one sliding down, dangerously near his ass.
Um.
The photographer looks up at this 'Asami' - indignant, but again but words fail him for a moment when he catches the unexpectedly breathtaking look on the mans face, Asami looking down to Akihito's eyes, his own glinting - something smouldering though just beneath the surface.
What the…..?
Akihito whips his head back around, blushing in his confusion, this hot feeling that's creeping up, and down, from that small amount of contact at his waist line. He doesn't know what to think, or do - utterly confused as to what he's even doing, not telling Asami to piss off like he would to anyone else, reacting like this to this guy touching him so casually - as if it's normal for one guy to touch another like this!
He jumps again when he hears the doors close behind them, Asami and he the last two people to enter the dining hall and the photographer observes the guests all finding their seats excitedly - obviously hoping to be sat near Asami or at least with someone of note. The young man hopes to break away too from this tension, from the eyes that he feels are reading his every thought, and move - but just as he's about to tear away and high tail it all the way to the other end of the table, Asami's deep, sultry voice stops him.
"Wait. You're sat toward the head, this way…"
And he leads him to the right, indeed to the head of the table where Asami must be sat and Akihito huffs when he notices the place names proudly lining the grand spread at each chair, indeed an empty chair remaining next to Asami, on his right. But fuck, yes! - Kouyama and his wife on his left!
The host observes Akihito as he nervously, yet excitedly sits, allowing Kirishima to push in the boys chair before finally being seated himself as the expert waiting staff pour each guest a glass of the finest Champagne to toast with, which they do a few minutes later and Akihito just doesn't know where to look as he hadn't anticipated coming into contact with his mark this soon or quite frankly, this easily.
He fidgets with the remote shutter controller in his pocket as he tries to casually observe the old crooked politician and his primped and pampered wife, whilst trying to avoid Asami's eyes on him - those knowing eyes making his tummy squirm as he finally raises his glass with the rest of the guests and toasts to yet another successful Sion retreat.
Akihito slumps into his seat, already feeling exhausted already from all the nervous energy bubbling below his skin and he gulps down more of his champagne as the aperitifs are served, making Asami cast an amused glance his way, Aperitifs being a small alcoholic beverage one has before a formal dinner - of which this boy has clearly not experienced before.
Shrugging at the small glass Akihito chucks that down too whilst the other, more distinguished guests sip as they talk amongst themselves about the decor, their fellow invitees or the host - even Kouyama and his wife having an albeit short, terse conversation about 'mr snuggles' being left at home for the weekend with a dogsitter and Mrs. Kouyama worrying about whether they left all the appropriate numbers incase of emergency.
Akihito is so engrossed in the unusual way this couple interact that he doesn't register right away the slowly increasing pressure sneaking it's way up his left leg, until he receives a squeeze at the fleshy curve near his crotch, making him yelp and draw more than a few people's attention to him.
"Is there something the matter? Are you not feeling well?"
That's the host speaking - innocently enquiring with an amused smirk and a slightly raised eyebrow even as his hand caresses way too-near the V of Akihito's pelvis, his thumb playing circles around the fleshy part of his upper thigh and Akihito heaves out a heavy breath, a soft - barely audible moan at the feeling of being touched by someone else this way even as his brain screams at the wrongness of it all - he's supposed to be working - undercover! Not sat here getting fondled by some man -!
He jumps out of his seat with a small yelp when Asami squeezes him suddenly through his dress pants, the boy looking like a madman and making more than just a few people laugh - even the host himself.
"S-sorry…"
He sits again, grumbling and finally squirms away with an adorable glare shot Asami's way as his hand takes another swipe at Akihito under the table when the aperitif's are cleared away - making way for the next course. The man withdraws his hand for now in favour of casually addressing a few people seated nearby and they bombard him with the usual drivel, compliments and the fluttering of eyelids and the young man just takes a few more sips of his drink.
Akihito feels hot, bothered, uncomfortable and he's conflicted. What the hell is this? Why is Asami toying with him? Why does he want that man to look at him, just at him. Why does he want Asami to touch him again?
Why is he thinking this way?
"Asami," Kouyama manages in between chomps of perfectly cooked and marinated fish, "who's this little thing here? I've never seen him at your side before…he's new?"
The host takes a moment to place down his drink and he hums slightly, his own food untouched as he turns those eyes on Akihito once more - and Akihito insists to himself that he did NOT just feel a pang of something at that - he announces the boy's name and occupation, understandably making all in the vicinity flinch and tense up, many pairs of beady little eyes flickering between them and lingering on Akihito with a blatant look of distrust, disgust and loathing.
Akihito can only glare once more at Asami and try in vain to defend his honour.
"He-he's the one that invited me! And the invite said no Camera's allowed anyway, okay? So chill-!"
He hurumphs and slams down his fancy cutlery, unwittingly flicking a nice big piece of Sea Bream right onto the lady next to him, the Actress Azumi Ryouko, making him wince and offer up a sheepish apology. Though what he actually does is spew out a stream of utterly nonsensical drivel and tries to wipe her chest off with his napkin - getting slapped away seconds later with a scandalised squeal from the beautiful woman.
He blushes out a small 's'rry' as he snatches his hands back and sips some more champagne to fill the silence and to try and also, keep something between himself and Asami as that hand finds his knee again and Kouyama narrows his eyes at him across the table. He can almost see the cogs turning in the mans corrupt little pea brain.
Takaba Akihito eh? The little shit that had tried to put his name in the paper just days ago? Oh yes, he had heard about that and he wonders why the hell Asami would have invite-oh! Asami, that old fox, he must have invited the boy along for Kouyama to get rid of easily - of course! - Who would question an unfortunate accident during a simple weekend hotel retreat, a poor unfortunate lad having too much to drink and falling down the stairs - or out of a top storey window?
The man sniggers to himself and raises a glass to Asami as thanks, winking as those golden, all-knowing eyes twinkle with amusement right back at him. It's good to have a friend like Asami, after all.
He carries on chortling merrily throughout the next two plates of quality cuisine and several hours, courses and several more leg-gropes for Akihito later the guests are in a blissful state of relaxation whilst Akihito is now not only hot, bothered and irritable but also, what with the constant barrage of nervousness, annoyance and alcohol - he's now slightly more tipsy than he should like to be - and the worst thing, he hasn't even managed to question Kouyama properly at all.
He can't get a word in.
Oh the man has talked, that's sure enough - through dinner Akihito has found out is that the man's into golf, that he has no kids and he tells his wife that he's at night school learning German, or at spinning classes most nights when Akihito knows already that he's with other women. Pro's.
He scowls at the old geezer as he finishes off his last glass of Champers and the dessert plates are cleared away, Asami's plate of food yet again remaining largely untouched as he eyes Akihito like he'd rather eat him instead. The business men talk a of mundane business matters while the guests sip their post dinner sherry and Asami's hand slips once again over Akihito's sensitive knee under the table, tickling the flesh there and making the boy blink dazedly, looking confusedly at Asami through suddenly tired, squinty eyes - his head cocked slightly to the side. Shit, he groggily thinks - I really did have too much to drink huh, but this feels, this feels….
He hums to himself almost without any sound at all, his head lolling slightly side to side where without thought, his eyes make contact with Asami's as the hand moves further north, sighing into the touch for a moment as Asami carries on his conversation beside him without a care. It creeps up his thigh even more and Akihito is about to try and slap it away again when - When it stops.
What. The shit?
Wait. Why the hell is he disappointed?!
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please join us in the Drawing room for a selection of the finest European Cheese and wines, in honour of our new Hotel opening in London next month. Please also enjoy a special quintet performance from the London Philharmonic Orchestra which we have arranged for your listening pleasure…."
The guests start to clamber around, rising to follow Kirishima into the next room where soft music is already lulling the guests into the kind of relaxation that only this kind of luxury and opulence can evoke. The alcohol, the rosy hue of candle light, the slow, winding melody - it's all enough to send Akihito's mind into a bit of a daze. He knows he has a job to do, knows he should push to find out a little more tonight but - but he's just so tired somehow, languid. Hot. He feels like he wants to be in a warm bathtub - no, stretched out on his bed naked. Bathed in moonlight, hmm.
He grins at the thought of imminent comfort and, eyes closed, attempts to rise from the table only to stumble into a pair of strong arms and a wide, solid chest. He somewhere in his mind, tries to stand and breakaway from the heat trying to seduce him and draw him in - insists he's fine and tries to break away to walk on his own, unaided. But what he really does his sink into it, somehow exhausted, somehow pliant and eager and grateful for the hands that lift him, for the neck he nuzzles into blindly.
Asami turns to Kouyama and his wife, the pair already risen from the table but paused in their activity to watch the scene unfold - seemingly this mere kid, cant handle his drink!
"I believe Takaba Akihito is feeling unwell, I shall take him to his quarters -"
He nods to the husband and wife, turning as if to exit the room before Kirishima rushes over, bowing as he offers to take the young man in his masters stead.
"Oh Asami-sama please allow me-"
"No It's not a problem, I would have you see to our guests instead. Kouyama-san could I please have your assistance with the doors, for you see my hands are full…"
Asami smiles slightly, quite innocently but Kouyama gets it and he all-out purrs, revelling at the inner workings of this mans deviant, evil - brilliant mind! No one will suspect a thing! He bares his teeth in a grin as he acquiesces, leaving his plump, unloved wife in Kirishima's care and follows Asami across the room before reaching for the double doors with a flourish. All too happy to be subservient for a short while if it means the chance to rid himself of this bothersome young photographer.
They walk through the many dark, spacious halls lined with tapestries and paintings, only small slithers of light giving away the politicians increasing excitement at the thought of being rid of one of the biggest thorns in his side within the next few minutes, he works his little legs faster to keep up with Asami's long, elegant strides as they turn a corner to ascend yet another staircase. Getting ever closer to Akihito's secluded room.
"So? How're we going to do it Asami? Out the window, down the stairs?"
Asami carries on ahead, glancing to the side eventually with the smallest of gestures to show he is listening.
"Hmm? Do what, Kouyama-san?"
The man laughs, that Asami - always so elusive! Well, is so happens Kouyama is in a jovial mood so he decides to go along with the banter for a bit longer - he knows Asami likes games too - it's just like him to play dumb!
"Oh you know-" he winks as Asami looks his way for a moment. "How we're going to get rid of our 'little problem' here."
He chortles as Asami comes to a stop by a large door, leading to one of the grandest suites in the hotel. He coughs slightly and Kouyama springs into action once again, opening the door with a relish reserved for only the most indecent of pleasures - noting that yes, this room indeed is very high up and that it should make for a very quick, messy - but certain death. Perfect.
"Thank you Kouyama-san, I trust you can find your way back to join the party?"
- Wait. What?
He stares up at Asami's impassive, mooncast features - not able to hide his spluttering bewilderment at all. It takes a moment for the point, the message, to sink in - of course!
Of course they couldn't off the boy now! Too obvious! No alibi! Asami had shown him where the room is so he can come back later! Good one Asami, good one! So with understanding finally dawning on him and with a wink and single tap to the nose for his most gracious host, he turns and marches out of the room with a final nod and a small pep in his step. He'll return later when everyone is sleeping, when the boy is sleeping - he'll bring in some chloroform, and drug the boy into oblivion before he hurls him out of the window. Just a poor depressed, inebriated kid deciding that he just he can't go on anymore. That's all.
He almost feels giddy, he knows this plan is going to go off without a hitch!
Once the man is out of site, Asami moves towards the elaborately carved four poster and places a grumbling Akihito down for a moment onto the mattress as he moves around the room to light some lamps, closing the door and locking it too. He doesn't want anyone to disturb him. He moves back to the bed slowly, like a predator on prey. Leaning in close to huskily speak into the boys ear suggestively, while his own patented brand of sedative works it's way around the boys system.
"Akihito…?"
It's a long time coming but so worth it when it does, a soft sigh - a sure sign that he can hear Asami loud and clear.
"Hmmm…?"
Asami swallows thickly, an excitement he hasn't known before making him almost vibrate with excitement. This boy, this beautiful angel of a man - he wants to do such awful, such disgusting, degrading things to him - he wants to defile him in every way - and he wants Akihito to love every moment of it. But not right now, right now he just wants to taste a little. Play a little bit.
"Aren't you hot, Akihito?"
Akihito moans lightly at his name, said like that and at the close proximity of those lips to his ear. That breath on his neck. He feels so comfortable, like melted butter or a cloud. But he knows he could feel much, much better. It's like the voice is telling him so.
"Don't you want to take off those clothes Akihito? That stuffy, stiff, suit?"
Akihito tries to squirm at the thought of the stupid scratchy old suit he's been stuffed into like some old rat race salary man geezer, he grumbles as he feels it on his skin, wanting to feel like that cloud again, like caramel. He hums, trying to make the suffocating suit enveloping him just go away.
And piece by piece, it does.
After Asami has removed that little wired up camera in Akihito's jacket, that is...
Then. Laid out on the bed Akihito is undressed slowly and with great care, as if Asami is tracing every inch of pale, revealed skin with his hands and eyes. His suit jacket is carefully removed from under him, his tie is undone and gently eased away, his shirt unbuttoned down to the slacks before they too, are opened and slid down past his hips, legs and feet. Asami removes his socks, caressing those dainty feet - surely too pretty to belong to a man. He returns to the shirt, teasing the fabric past those rose-pink nipples and removing it the rest of the way before he reaches the boy's waist, his underwear, sucking in a harsh breath when he finally allows himself to look at the treasure concealed below the thin fabric. The tip already trying to peek just out of the front.
Has he ever seen a body so wonderfully sensitive? He wonders what other treasures it's hiding.
He allows himself to run a solitary finger along the soft pink skin visible as it unfurls and it's so tantalising. The boxers are teased down Akihito's hips as the boy breathes deeply in the comfort of the soft, assuring touches and the luxurious fur throw at his back - his mind awash with sensation, but nothing else.
Asami withdraws the pants completely, leaving Akihito - his Akihito now - completely naked and open to him, nothing withheld from his gaze. His eager eyes drink him in and he licks his lips, the urge to sink his teeth into that untouched, unsullied skin almost too much to bear. He slowly kneels on the bed, almost straddling Akihito's feet and reached forward to caress his silky thighs and stomach, watching the muscles quiver indecently there.
He raises the boy's long, pale legs up by the bend in the knee, bringing them up as he lowers himself to taste the first small precious pearl of precome pooled at the tip of the rigid, ripe cock - it sending his head into a frenzy. Akihito hums again as if annoyed at the fleeting touch and Asami doesn't make him wait, tonguing the solid erection and nipping along it's length, playing in the small slit and around the fleshy helmet head before running his tongue down and up, up and down. Tasting the delicious sacs hanging below.
A small sheen of sweat breaks out over the boys skin, but every sigh and every moan washes over Asami like a sonata and he can't wait to see what Akihito would sound like in the highest ecstasy, in sheer terror and it makes his blood sing. The beast in him purr.
What would Akihito's eyes, his face look like in moment of orgasm - if he were to choke the life out of him? If he were to watch every precious drop of the boy's blood bleed out of him?
He swallows Akihito's cock and sucks hard, driven on by the fantasy and the thrill of having this perfect, utterly flawless creature finally in his clutches. He's been dreaming of this for so long. Ever since he had laid eyes on the bleeding and broken boy in the basement of his club, all those months ago.
With a shudder Akihito comes down Asami's throat and he drinks it down like a man starved, letting Akihito's spent member go with a pop as it falls to rest against his stomach, quivering. He washes and dries Akihito, placing him with care onto the spacious bed and tucking him in. Uncharacteristically stopping to stare, threading a hand through the boys hair, once - twice, just like he had that time in Akihito's own bedroom.
He wonders why this creature can inspire such unknown, unfamiliar feelings in him. Why he should have come to care for this boy who he had only observed from afar.
He leans down without thought, without knowing what he's about to do but it's as if for a kiss but catches himself just in time, mere inches away from the boy's lips. He stares, mesmerised by them, by the soft breaths exhaled and inhaled by them. He wonders, he asks himself if he could do it after all - whether he can make Akihito into a masterpiece like he had all the others - can he bring himself to do it - to him?
His hand creeps, creeps toward that milky white throat and sees the pulsing skin there, pulsing with life - life that before, he wouldn't hesitate to steal away and take for his own.
Fingertips graze the skin and he marvels at how the slim, delicate neck fits under his hand so perfectly, he squeezes and feels that pulse, that steady heartbeat under his fingers.
This young man, so alive - so brave and beautiful.
The thought arrests him and he lurches backward and away, stumbling out of the room from the sheer shock of emotion - the power of this steel fist clenching his heart. Of course he had eliminated all of those from before that had harmed Akihito - and will do the same now as he had planned - but that's because he had just decided to claim him for himself, wasn't it?
It's because Akihito had seemed like a tragic beauty, one that he wanted to crown in thorns and watch bleed. To watch that pale, warm skin grow pale and cold. Wasn't it?
He's been telling himself, insisting that ever since he had walked in on that scene in the basement of his club that night, ever since he had set his eyes on that broken angel, ever since he had started to have him followed, photographed and had started to study his every move - his seemingly relentless thirst for life and spirit. Hadn't he done it because he had just wanted to take Akihito, to break him again and again, to use him to further the masterpiece that has been his life's work? Yes.
Yes, but - but if that is true. If it is - then what is this overwhelming, debilitating feeling? The one that he cannot place or recall? The one that means he cannot even bear the thought of seeing this boy harmed? Even by himself?
He shuts the door behind him with an ominous click and greets Kirishima in the dark hall, pale and out of sorts. His emotions unbalanced and mind in turmoil. He rejoins the party to merely keep up appearances.
TBC