A/N: If you've read this far, you should not be surprised by developments in this chapter *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*, so if you are not interested in reading about sexual situations, scroll down to the third gray line and meet me there for the rest of the story. Happy birthday Fujimaki-Sensei!

If Furihata were to look back on the evening, it had four distinct movements. It started awkwardly when Akashi ignored him the entire basketball game, even though he sat directly behind the redhead chatting amicably with Aomine-chan. Then came the fantastic dinner with his old friend Kagami-kun - at the same table as Akashi and his friends. Then it progressed to the routine sweeping for listening devices with the black box. And then there was the finale to the night where somehow he'd brought Akashi back to his dorm to have an innocent cup of tea, and he'd ended up without a shirt, and with his pants around his ankles, while Akashi's hand wrapped tightly around both of them. Two out of the four, he could actually tell his mother about in the morning.

Furihata had no idea how his shirt had been removed, but he didn't care. His shoulders pushed into the wall just inside his dorm room door as Akashi's other hand cupped his butt, forcing an arch into his back. He reached out to rectified the injustice that Akashi was still completely dressed, and Akashi's glazed over eyes tracked the movement.

"I don't like to be touched," Akashi snapped, never stopping the the rhythm of his hand.

Furihata fisted his hands at his side, trying to translate the words into something that made sense. I can't touch you?

"I can't touch you?" he said out loud. "Then stop touching me, now!"

"What?" Akashi said, his hand suddenly still between their bodies.

"It's not fair."

"You seriously want me to stop?" There was confusion in his right eye, anger in his left.

"Is it that you don't like to be touched, or that you don't like the way you've been touched up until now?" Furihata asked, as he resisted the urge to move under Akashi's hands.

"I… I don't know…," Akashi admitted.

"Then continue to trust me. We'll both stop, if we must," Furihata said as he reached out to touch Akashi's face.

Akashi saw the hand coming toward him, and squeezed his eyes closed against the memory of so many other times that a hand had approached his face with less than honorable intent. Furihata saw that fear, that distrust, and drew his fingers softly against Akashi's pale cheek in a lingering caress that was as gentle as the touch of a butterfly's wings. Akashi shivered and opened his eyes.

"Not so bad, right?" Furihata asked.

"No, not so bad," Akashi whispered, his voice a hoarse croak.

Akashi loosened his tie and Furihata unbutton the redhead's shirt.

Furihata gripped Akashi's shoulder, and forgetting that the wall was behind him, leaned all his weight into the other man.

"Jiro," Furihata moaned.

Jiro? Akashi heard the word echo around his mind. Jiro? It's so...

"I like that, call me Jiro more often," he whispered into Furihata's ear.

Akashi bore up under the extra weight without complaint, sated and pleased with himself for timing everything perfectly. He lingered, enjoying the very last of their shared pleasure. Furihata lifted his head from Akashi's shoulder and looked up at him. Akashi turned his head a little to left, but Furihata, having regained his ability to think, saw the movement for what it was.

"You always shy away, why?"

"Because my left eye frightens you. I didn't want to spoil the mood."

"That eye is part of you, Jiro," Furihata said as he stepped completely out of his pants and kicked them towards the bed. He pulled his boxer shorts back up.

"I wish it wasn't."

"Please don't say scary things like that," he said, taking Akashi's hand and leading him to the bed.

"I should go, if I stay too long it will be suspicious."

"You've been here less than ten minutes. Just stay with me for fifteen more," Furihata said, and climbed onto the bed.

Akashi went to the sink and washed his hands, and then sat on the bed next to Furihata.

"You should come with me, Kōki," Akashi whispered against Furihata's hair. He wasn't sure if he wanted the other man to hear him, but he said it nonetheless.

"I…um…"

"You're right, it was a foolish and selfish thing to ask of you," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up, dislodging Furihata from his shoulder as he did so.

"Don't get mad, Jiro. I'm just trying to think about it logically, and it's a lot to spring on a guy. First, it's not part of the plan, I know that. And secondly, you've got money, but not enough for both of us. I've only got about ¥5,000 for the rest of the semester. That'll get us nowhere."

"If you're worried about money," Akashi said, looking over his right shoulder at the young man sprawled in the messy sheets, "you should have said so earlier. Let me see your phone."

Furihata draped himself over Akashi's legs and grabbed his pants from the floor; he pulled the phone from the back pocket and handed it over.

"Your passcode?"

"2479."

"I'm downloading an app," Akashi said, pointing the phone's browser to his cloud. It took a few moments to initiate the program, and he waited patiently as the progress bar crawled across the screen.

Furihata rolled over on his stomach and propped his chin on the heel of his hand.

"Give me ¥1,000 and I'll double your money in a matter of minutes."

"I don't have a ¥1,000," Furihata said. "I'm lucky if I have enough coins for my coffee from the vending machine every morning."

"Not in paper," Akashi groaned. "Sometimes you are incredibly stupid. I need a bank account."

Akashi saw the doubt flash across Furihata's face, but he didn't understand it. If someone with his monetary acumen offered to double his money, he'd do it. Akashi took ¥2,000 out of his wallet and put it on the bedside table.

"If I don't double your money in five minutes, this is yours."

"It's not that I don't –"

"Kōki, I trusted you, now it's your turn to trust me."

Furihata handed over his school bank account card; it was the only card he owned and Akashi entered the information into the app.

Once it had the information and Akashi tapped the big, friendly green button at the bottom of the screen, it went to work immediately.

"This is an investment program that I developed at the beginning of the semester. It takes a sum – in your case the ¥1,000 – and it invests it in a circular manner," Akashi explained. "For example, Reo gave me a gift card with ¥10,000 on it; it is the only money I have that isn't watched by my father's accountants. I risked it all on this program. The app invests your ¥1,000 over and over again, but does not touch your profit."

Furihata watched as he account balance fluctuated on the screen. The display showed a risk amount of ¥1,000 and showed a new profit of ¥800; the numbers continued to climb.

"It will continuously reinvested that initial amount and deposit the profit directly back to your account at midnight each day."

"Continuously?"

"Unless you tell it to stop, or it loses the ¥1,000. It will never draw money from your account without authorization."

"Is this legal?" Fuirhata asked as he watched the profit leap to ¥3,200.

"Perfectly, Shintarō and I have been using it for the last four months. I've made hundreds of thousands of yen; he has broken a million. Money isn't going to be an issue for you anymore."

"This is bloody brilliant," Furihata said, sitting forward and watching his money rise. "Why haven't you sold this yet? You could be a billionaire overnight."

"Because if I sell it in Japan, it will belong to the Akashi Foundation."

"Oh," Furihata said.

"Think about my offer Kōki. I don't ask lightly, nor would I change my carefully thought out plans without cause," Akashi said, retrieving his shirt from the floor.