*STORY WARNINGS:
–Yaoi – Male/Male.
– Rating: Mature. ADULTS ONLY. Contains graphic violence, some coarse language, explicit sexual content both consensual/non-consensual, forced/willing submission, bondage, BDSM, edging, safewords, aftercare, adult themes, guilty pleasure fantasy where you want someone to be a bit too forceful.
A/N: I spoil these two rotten. They want, they get. I'm the monkey dutifully channelling their thoughts and feelings and ridiculous antics into words. (^^) Or maybe I'm just spoiling myself... I have far too many naughty scenarios for them to play out!
Partly because of that, I've realized a flaw in my story planning. At the risk of sounding absurd saying this to all you wonderful folk who are reading this despite (because of!) the story tags, this is currently chapter after chapter of smut... I heard that! Who's laughing? I'm trying to be serious here! ;-P So, seriously, you know that thing about variation carrying more impact? There are no-smut chapters on the horizon but for now, seeing as (a) I've planned this relationship development amongst their daily lives, (b) these two are horny-as-hell devils, and (c) I'm having too much fun with said horniness in said daily lives to change it, you're just going to have to suck it up *ahem!* and put up with all their romping about. All 16K words of it because I seem chronically incapable of doing short chapters. Quite the torture, eh? Mwahaha! XD
Actually I'm slightly nervous it's so long you might get bored... (^^') But too late now! Here's to hoping I can keep your attention through another monster of a chapter (maybe even the longest yet?). Control part 2, here we go. Hope you enjoy it.
~ Nyx ~
DISCLAIMER: The Finder series and all recognisable characters belong to Yamane Ayano sensei.
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Chapter 20. Control – part 2
Tuesday.
Colours bled together, a blurry kaleidoscope lit with beams of gold. Dream Asami was a dreamy cocoon at Akihito's back, hot and hard and yet a perfect humanoid cushion for relaxing into, complete with a mammoth morning glory that nestled along his crack.
Fuck yes.
Akihito was pliant on his side, his top leg propped high and several fingers stretching his ass.
Doubly fuck yes.
The definition of languorous contentment, check.
Ass satisfyingly occupied, check.
Dream Asami who was even more dreamy than the real deal, if that was even possible, check.
"Sexy bastard," Akihito hummed. Heaven deep inside, stroked by long fingers, but easing off before he could soar. "But still a dick... A sexy dick..." He giggled. Apparently Dream Akihito giggled.
Fingers vanished, dematerialized, into thin air.
"Noo... Oh!" Disappointment flipped into anticipation, the work of an instant, simply at the familiar bulb-headed nudge.
Dream Asami sank in, deliciously thick and long, pressing deep with steady, relentless pressure. Lips found Akihito's neck. It was a lost cause.
"Ohhh yeeaahhh..."
"You like me inside you, don't you?" Dream Asami's voice was a nectar of sin.
"God yes."
"Why do you like it?"
There wasn't nearly enough movement for Akihito's liking. He ground his hips back.
"Tell me, Akihito," that bedevilled voice coaxed.
"I'm full. With you. Inside." Another blissed out sigh, another wiggle. "Move, damn it."
Dream Asami obliged.
"Yeeaahhh... Just like that... Feels so hot... It hurts... Just a bit..."
"Want me to stop?"
"Fuck no... It's fucking awesome..." Dream Akihito sighed. "Gimme more."
He lay there all dopy and let Dream Asami take him, slow and unhurried, carried on the languid, blissful, cresting tide...
Akihito blinked awake. To discover he hadn't been asleep at all. Asami was wrapped around him, sheathed to the hilt, the shit-eating smirk blinding him with gold.
"That's quite the morning greeting, Akihito."
"No no no... Oh my god... No, I was asleep! I was just sleep talking!"
"Then it must be entirely true. Luckily for you, this sexy dick can give you a lot more, exactly as you want."
Expired. Dead. Akihito literally burst into flames and perished on the spot. And that was before Asami had oh-so-smugly spoon-drilled him to two Holy-fucking-baloney-my-whole-body's-melted-to-mush orgasms one after another before they'd even fallen out of bed for breakfast.
It was going to be one of those days. Akihito just knew it.
So maybe that was the reason, the worst-best morning greeting ever.
Or maybe it was because of the reality of what was happening here. Dangerously convenient. And worryingly comfortable. Regardless of the reasons or the unavoidable necessity for the current arrangement, it had struck Akihito as he'd hopped precariously into his jeans, steadied by strong hands as Asami stepped around him in the walk-in closet to grab a tie and those long, elegant fingers deftly tied it to the soft swish of silk. They ate together, slept together, were 'home' together – what was that, if not co-habiting?
Maybe it was because of Asami 'accompanying' him to the hospital. Dog with a bone was more like it – when Akihito made the mistake of revealing why he was trying to reject the limo ride to Sion that morning, Asami was all over his ass. Akihito's obstinate rejections (because he needed a breather damn it, being in the same room as Asami wasn't letting his complexion return to normal after that wake-up call!) were met with equally obstinate insistence that he should just let Asami take him or he was in danger of missing the appointment – as though it wasn't the bastard's fault that they were wasting time arguing in the first place!
Asami hadn't let him out of his sight. Not when they sat in the community hospital waiting room on sticky plastic-covered chairs that were as uncomfortable as they were ugly, a wide birth surrounding their intimidating group of serious men in black suits with Akihito in their midst like a flash of wild pineapple. Nor when the nurse removed the bandages and checked over the dissolved stitches on Akihito's upper arm and told him that it had healed cleanly but that it would scar, all while blatantly checking Asami out. Asami had grabbed his arm almost painfully hard, golden eyes like hellfire as he took in the pink welt, unnaturally straight on a upward slash across the outer bicep... Carved by the bullet that had been aimed at Asami... When Akihito had saved his life while he'd been saving Akihito's... Then Asami had grabbed him and all Akihito could do was cling to him as Asami bent him backwards with a beastly kiss, startled nurse be damned.
Which, as fucking embarrassing as it had been, had actually been kinda, sorta, nice... Oh, who the feck was he kidding, he'd been left all hot and flustered and protesting mostly because Asami had kissed him like that in a hospital, for crying out loud, but then he wasn't protesting very much at all as Asami had bundled them back into the limo and it had all got rather heavy handed. Literally – Akihito straddled across Asami's lap, both their swollen cocks fisted in Asami's large hand as he devoured Akihito's neck...
Or maybe Akihito just had a limit to how much he could be chauffeured around, doors efficiently opened for him, his battered rucksack conveniently handed to him with reverent hands. Would he ever get used to it, he wondered, where such assistance became an expectation, where hard work became a distant memory? It was a fearsome thought.
By the time the limo dropped them at Sion after their long morning, Akihito was biting at the bit to make his own way and assert his independence.
He stumbled out of the limo and all but legged it to the basement, with Sagano and Nakatani hurrying to keep pace.
Neither mentioned Asami planting the proverbial proprietary flag on Akihito's ass the day before even though it was the first thought in both their minds. There was a brief awkward moment when neither of them knew what to say, but then Ogawa just pushed his glasses up his nose with an almighty sigh.
"Feel free to work any hours you want to, Takaba," he said, his voice rich with sarcasm.
Akihito quirked a lopsided grin. "Great, thanks Ogawa-san. I'll just rock up whenever then."
Ogawa rolled his eyes, turning back to his screen. "What are 'core business hours' anyway? We should just ditch them, right?"
Akihito pulled out his laptop and started powering up. "Where is everyone?" It was only the two of them in the IT office, not counting the two bodyguards by the door.
"Lunch."
"Oh... What!" Akihito scrambled for his phone, checking the time. "No shit! It's lunchtime already!" He didn't want to have to bother the canteen staff for late lunch again. But he'd only just arrived... He dithered, hopping from one foot to the other.
Ogawa sighed. "Go, go," he waved off, knowing the young man's healthy appetite.
Akihito needed no further prompting. "Thanks, boss, you're the best!"
"Just make up the hours!" Ogawa yelled after him as the blond dashed back out not thirty seconds after he'd arrived. He watched the two bodyguards – Asami's bodyguards – ricochet off the wall before they could get settled, yanked along like silent shadows.
Left manning the Helpdesk alone again, Ogawa shook his head at the unlikely couple. It wasn't a match he'd have ever predicted in a million years, but then again, didn't they say that opposites attract? And to think, it all started when Ogawa had needed a helping hand to tackle Sion's cyber shields –
"Oh my, did I play cupid to those two?"
"Whassup?"
"... You're needed up here. Bring your laptop."
"Righty ho, Glasses-san."
"... You are aware I have a name?"
"Yeah, but nicknames are so much more special, don't you think?"
"..."
"What shocking quagmire have you landed yourself in this time?"
So in hindsight maybe it hadn't been the smartest thing to do to go barging into Asami's office running his mouth without checking if the bastard was alone. But in his defence, Asami had never had company before when he'd called Akihito up.
There were several distinctive and immediate reactions.
Four pairs of startled eyes swivelled to the door at his noisy entrance – including Mr Thin and Mr Sour from the Board meeting the previous day.
Ogawa was doing his best to disappear under the table.
Kirishima was stone. A slab of expressionless marble.
Asami smirked, reclining at the head of the glass conference table. "Good of you to join us, Takaba. We were ahead of schedule so we brought forward discussions on the VR expansion."
Such an easy posture, slightly askance in the armless armchair, Asami's arm resting wide and relaxed on the table. Casual but authoritative, very much in boss-form in front of the four execs that meant Asami was calling him Takaba.
"So it's not just me that this delightful young man speaks to like that," someone observed quietly.
Akihito tore his eyes from Asami to the speaker – it was a stuffy manager Akihito had come across when he'd been covering Helpdesk before, Akihito had chewed his ears off for having Abc123 as his password for everything.
"Isn't it interesting how genius can come in many guises?" Asami mused as Akihito approached the table.
What the hell was Asami on about? Akihito scowled, more hesitant to give the bastard a piece of his mind now that he knew they had company.
Asami knew it too, judging by the glint in his eyes. "He has the added quality of not pulling his punches. He'll always tell you the absolute truth."
Having overcome his initial surprise, Mr Thin now appeared to be hiding a smile. Some of the others exchanged glances. Mr Sour was still a sourface but the others seemed curious at the top boss' backing of this outspoken young man.
"Yeah, that must be it, I'm totally incapable of sugar coating things. By the way, Asami-sama," Akihito added innocently as he calmly took a seat, "I've always thought you're a very cheerful, easy-going CEO."
There were a few startled coughs.
Kirishima cleared his throat, interjecting before his boss could act on the gleam of amusement that was becoming altogether too familiar as of late.
"Shigura-san, if you would you start us off on the key objectives and scope of Project EverEye?"
"We're taking the train." As immovable as a blast wall. But then, barely one second and an anxious glance around later, "Can – can we take the train?"
A veiled storm darkened Asami's brow, but there was a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder that made Akihito think that it might not be directed at him.
"Suoh, maintain a discreet perimeter."
"Yes, sir," came the big guy's prompt acknowledgement as though he'd already started planning for such. He issued quiet orders into his sleeve microphone.
"Lead on," Asami said easily as though Akihito hadn't just banished them from the comfort of the limo like he had any right to.
"A-are you sure?"
"Only if you can move your legs. You look stuck."
Asami wasn't far off. Akihito's feet had grown roots. Whatever the myriad of reasons for his restlessness that morning, as they left Sion at the end of the day it all came rushing back tenfold at the sight of the limo waiting for them. Maybe it was cabin fever from being chauffeured around everywhere.
"Or if you'd prefer me to carry you –"
"You baka! I don't prefer you to carry me. I – I don't need you to carry me. I never need you to carry me. I can't possibly say it clearly enough. No carrying!"
"Right," Asami smirked. "No carrying."
"Good."
They watched as the limo took off without them. Akihito started off down the concourse, Asami moving in sync.
This was bizarre. Akihito had seen his fair share of the weird and wonderful but this ranked pretty high up there. Walking with Asami, down the elevated concourse from the execs' entrance, down to ground level where the riffraff like Akihito dwelled. Suoh and the other bodyguards spread out until they disappeared into the scattergram of commuters heading home, giving the illusion that they were just two ordinary people strolling along. Ordinary, except Asami still forged a path through the mishmash of people like an icebreaker. This close to Sion HQ there were plenty of employees on their way home doing a double take at the extraordinary sight of their CEO walking in their midst. It was so remarkable that most didn't even notice Akihito at his side, even with his bright blond hair and loud clothes.
It felt good to be on his feet again. Akihito led them past the first subway station, as well as the next few that they came across. They left behind the people who recognized Asami, until the second glances just came from folk in downtown Shinjuku gawking at a stunning paradigm of virile masculinity. Akihito also kept half an eye on Asami, in case the billionaire accustomed to being chauffeured around everywhere might struggle walking. But Asami easily kept pace, seeming unconcerned where they were going, making no attempt to curb Akihito's burst of wanderlust.
They passed restaurants in full flow with their evening diners and the shops open late to commuters burning the midnight oil, weaving through the streams of people. Akihito caught sight of Blond Tank's mop of light hair here and there, but the other bodyguards were lost seamlessly in the sea of dark heads.
With every striding step Akihito felt lighter, shedding the shadows of V1P3R and the hitmen and having to stay cooped up and always having bodyguards on his tail. He didn't know how Asami did it. Maybe it was something one got used to over time. But Akihito couldn't imagine not hitting the road whenever he felt like it, the freedom to do as he liked without his every move being monitored.
Akihito finally slowed down as they approached the fifth station. "Hungry?" he asked, pulling out his phone and putting it to his ear.
"Always."
Akihito glanced aside sharply at the suggestive tone. Sure enough, Asami's eyes were fixed on him. But there was only time for an eye roll as the call connected.
"Hey, Mori-Jiichan [granddad]? It's Takaba Akihito, I don't know if you remember me – Uh yeah, it sure has – No no, I'm good. I'm doing good – Yeah, for two. Tonight actually. And by tonight I mean in fifteen minutes? – Haha you're the best! Thanks! We'll see you soon." He hung up and rounded on Asami. "We're gonna go eat but no funny business. These guys are nice and you can't pull all the shit you usually pull. You gotta be on your best behaviour."
Asami looked amused. "Best behaviour it is."
"I mean it!" Akihito glared sternly, pointing a warning finger and everything.
Asami held up his hands, his lips twitching as though containing a grin. "You have my word."
Akihito shook his head as they headed into the station. "I'm so gonna regret this," he grumbled and led them over to the queues at the ticket machines. "I bet you've never taken the train before, have you?"
"I'm entirely in your hands."
Akihito flushed faintly at the rumbling purr. "That's not an answer. I'm assuming you don't own a suica card, do you?"
Asami shook his head.
Blond Tank materialized at his elbow with a jet-black credit card in hand. "Where to?"
"Oh, put that away!" Akihito waved off. "I've got this. How many of you guys are there?"
Suoh glanced unsurely at Asami.
"My men can fend for themselves," Asami told him, sending Suoh away with a subtle jerk of his jaw. "Just get mine."
Akihito stepped up to the ticket machine when it was their turn. A few coins and buttons later he waved the small strip of magnetic card in Asami's face.
"This is called a ti-cket," Akihito explained with deliberate emphasis as though speaking to a young child. Or a clueless billionaire.
"Funny," Asami said dryly, plucking it out of his hand.
They joined the stream of people heading for the ticket barriers. Akihito craned his neck, peering through the light crowd around them. Suoh wasn't hard to spot, ten paces diagonally behind at five o'clock, and he also spotted Sagano and Nakatani a little ways off. He thought he recognized identical black suits here and there too. "Really, how many guards are there?"
"Don't concern yourself."
Akihito frowned. "Being vague doesn't help, you know." He beeped through with his suica card and waited as Asami followed through the barriers, easily feeding the ticket in as though he'd done it before. It still made Akihito stare a bit seeing Asami doing such ordinary things.
Asami's vagueness made Akihito wonder just how many were forming the so-called discreet perimeter. Which made Akihito think of the hitmen roaming the streets after him... He gnawed at his lip, suddenly rethinking his urge to ditch the tinted security of the limo. "Are you sure this is safe?" he couldn't help asking.
Asami glanced at him, one sharp look that saw through all the shadows. "You're with me, Akihito. How could anyone possibly get to you?"
Akihito couldn't help snorting at such overconfidence. Asami smirked.
"Alright, Mr Superhero Wannabe," Akihito said. "Or the Anti version of it. Don't get your knickers in a twist."
They followed the stream of people onto the escalator heading down, Asami one step below and half turned back. It brought their heads rather close together as though in a bubble of their own, Akihito just a little higher. Akihito told himself that it was only for safety reasons that he let Asami stand so close. It wasn't because he was enjoying this unfamiliar angle of looking down on that stunning face, no siree.
"Imagining me in my underwear now, are we?" Asami murmured. "What a dirty mind you have."
Akihito flushed. "Oh you wear knickers, do you? Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Only following your insinuations. Don't tell me you secretly want to dress me in lingerie, Akihito?"
A blush bloomed across Akihito's face. Then he couldn't shake the absolutely crazy mental image and his complexion intensified to crimson, his feet all but forgotten and Asami had to guide him off the escalator.
"You perverted baka! Does nothing embarrass you?" Akihito wailed.
Asami manoeuvred the stunned young man ahead of him, guiding Akihito along to the platform. "Oh I'm sure I will be if you ever try to follow through with that imagery you're entertaining."
"Like hell I would! That's – that's insane!" Then, a second too late: "I'm not entertaining any imagery!"
Asami's chuckle wrapped about him, warm and indulgent. "Your face says otherwise. But having promised you all the fap material you need, it seems I'll have to work diligently to erase that particular image."
Akihito stumbled. Asami righted him.
"Fap? You can't say fap!" Akihito hissed at him, wondering if Asami did these things on purpose just to see him all riled up.
Asami arched a brow. "Of all the things to object to, it's the vocabulary? Very well, Akihito. I'll take that as carte blanche as to the rest."
Akihito's brain packed up. His cognitive wheels weren't helped any either when the press of commuters squished them together and Asami's arm slid tightly about his waist.
Akihito might have squeaked.
"Don't you always anyway?" was all he could mutter as Asami scooped him onto the subway train, aware that he wasn't protesting at all. He had to duck his head with bright cheeks as Asami's laugh bounced and warmed through his chest.
VVVV
Akihito led them to a tiny old teishoku [set meal] restaurant a few quiet turns off the main shopping street, the building decades old and all of five paces wide. It was the kind of place only advertised through word of mouth, where they prepared only sixteen portions of the omakase menu of the old chef's choosing for lunch and dinner. All you knew before turning up was that it was going to be totally yum. The place hadn't changed in decades, not the intricate noren [half-length doorway curtains] outside signalling they were open for business, nor the familiar creak in the wood as Akihito slid the narrow door open.
There was no Tardis effect here, the restaurant was just as small inside as it looked from the outside. Apart from the stone floor, everything was made of old wood – the six tiny tables that looked more suited to seating one but with tiny stools on either side, the raised counter on the left where you could sit watching the chef working on the other side, the wall panelling with carved inlays. Hanging noren separated off the kitchen leading off to the back and around to the counter. The small place was rather crowded with all but two of the seats occupied with quietly contented diners.
"Akihito-chan!"
Akihito's hand was caught in a surprisingly tight grip by the little old lady who'd been hovering by the door.
"I almost didn't believe it when Jiichan said you were coming!"
Akihito grinned. "Hey, Mori-Baachan [grandma], you're looking well."
"And you've grown!" She reached up to pat his head and he obligingly leaned down, laughing.
"It's only been a few months and I'm pretty sure I've stopped growing by now."
"It's been six months at least. I told Jiichan I was sure you'd found a girlfriend."
"Uh... That's... There's no girlfriend." Though she wasn't wrong, actually. He'd stopped coming here around when he'd hooked up with Risa, she'd preferred more 'high class' places. This kind of unassuming, traditional restaurant was too quaint, too homely for her liking. And now here was Asami... Akihito glanced back, wondering why he hadn't even thought twice about bringing the man here. He'd somehow known that Asami wouldn't object, that he might even like it.
Baachan was all wide-eyed as she followed his gaze. "Who is this strapping young man?"
Akihito grinned. "Only young to you, Obaachan. I'm always telling him how old he is."
"You must be blind! He's a spring chicken."
Akihito erupted with laughter. "Doesn't the expression usually go, he's no spring chicken?"
Baachan swatted his arm. "Shame on you. If I was but a few years younger I'd be all over him."
"I heard that!" came a gruff old voice that was followed by its owner through the noren at the back, a wiry old man about the same height as Akihito wearing an apron.
"Just keeping you on your toes, my dear," Baachan winked. Jiichan shook his head but anyone could see the fondness between the two.
"Hey, Ojiichan!"
"We missed you lad," Jiichan said with a clap on the shoulder.
"You too. I didn't mean to stay away so long. And thanks for squeezing us in. Uh, this is –" Akihito cleared his throat. He still found it awkward introducing the bastard, especially considering the last time he'd said the name... Flustered, he tore his eyes from Asami's intense gaze. "This is Asami Ryuichi."
Asami was the picture of calm civility as he bowed – Asami, bowing! Akihito blinked in shock – to the elderly couple.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Asami said politely, any hint of menace toned down to the point that he could've passed for any ordinary – if totally gorgeous – businessman.
"Oh my!" Baachan grinned. "You too, young man. Any friend of Akihito-chan is welcome here. Just call us Jiichan and Baachan."
"Alright, alright, give them some breathing space," Jiichan said as he drew Baachan back into the kitchen. "You've got your usual table," he told Akihito. "Sorry it's a bit cramped."
"Nah, it's perfect. Thanks!"
Akihito's usual table was a rickety thing tucked away in the back, but he knew just how to angle it so it balanced out on the stone floor. Asami tucked himself onto the small stool without fuss, leaning against the wall. He appeared relaxed.
"This ok?" Akihito checked, just in case.
Asami made an approving noise.
Akihito glanced at the door. "What about your men?"
"They can cover the outside. No one in here is a threat."
"No – Uh, Yeah, I didn't think of that. I was talking more about everyone's dinner. I wasn't really thinking of them when I thought to come here." Akihito frowned guiltily.
Something flickered across Asami's face at that. "They're on the clock, they'll be fine," he reassured. He nodded at Baasan who appeared behind the counter, chatting with one of the diners. "You seem fond of them."
Akihito grinned. "Yeah. I've known them since I was 15, met them soon after I moved to Tokyo for school. I was staying in a hostel when I first arrived and ugh, let's just say my neighbours were very passionate and frequent with their fights and making up." Asami threw him an amused look but Akihito just rolled his eyes. "I needed somewhere to hide away whenever they kicked off and that's when I came across this place down the road. Ojiichan and Obaachan used to let me stay here for hours, even when they were closed. I got to know them pretty well. They're like my surrogate grandparents." He dropped his voice conspiratorially. "I used to hijack the WiFi of the manga café next door."
"Such a lawbreaker, Akihito," Asami teased.
Akihito scoffed. "Says the guy who – who..." He stalled, his gaze suddenly lost.
Actually Akihito knew fuck all about Asami. Not about his first law-breaking, his first kill, how he'd risen to such power. Was he born the way he was or had something booted him down this path? How had he come to be the formidable man that he was? Akihito didn't even know about his family – or his older sister. Akihito was burning with questions, but what might be a harmless natter about families and careers with anyone else felt like a massive tumble over the cliff of no return when it came to such an enigmatic man like Asami. One small step for Akihito, one giant leap for their relationship into Personal (But isn't it already?) and Real (You still think this is a dream, Aki?) and possibly even Official (God forbid...).
Asami calmly held his conflicted gaze, not shutting him down, leaving the ball in Akihito's court as though untroubled that he might entangle them in this Gordian knot.
Akihito hurriedly muttered his thanks as Baachan started bringing dishes over. Rice and miso soup, a mouth-watering array of meat and fish and vegetable dishes flavoured with dashi and soy and mirin and sesame. The rest of the meal mostly passed quietly, Akihito being too caught up in the comfort of food that tasted like home and the swirling chaos of his thoughts to carry conversation. He didn't see Baachan and Jiichan exchange knowing glances as they watched from behind the counter, seeing far beyond their usual habit of keeping an eye on their guests' appetites.
Akihito didn't even blink as Asami passed several plates over for him to mop up. Asami still ate more than Akihito had ever seen him eat, whether out of politeness to the old couple or because he was enjoying the food. Perhaps it was a bit of both. But of course it was only right that Akihito ribbed him about it.
"You shouldn't worry, it's perfectly natural for appetites to decrease with age."
He could just see Asami biting back an inappropriately suggestive remark about appetites because the bastard was being true to his word and actually behaving himself for once. So Akihito might have been the one to extract that promise, but it wasn't like the bastard ever played fair either. Akihito wouldn't be Akihito if he didn't seize such a rare opportunity and goad Asami just a bit.
"You know, I don't even know how you got to be so big eating so little."
Akihito's face was picture-perfect innocence as the gleam in Asami's gaze promised wicked revenge.
Remarkably, the harmless manner about the crime lord remained even as they left, Asami thanking the couple for a delicious meal, smiling softly.
Akihito raised a brow, wondering what had happened to the bastard he knew. Then Baachan embraced Asami and Akihito's second eyebrow leaped up to join the first. His confusion intensified further as Baachan then caught Akihito in a tight hug, whispering, "I'm happy for you."
"Uh...?"
Jiichan clapped him on the back as usual. "Come again soon. Both of you."
Akihito cleared his throat. "Uh, sure. Yeah. I'll be back again soon. Take care!"
The crisp night air blew away whatever weird spell had snagged him. Akihito swung out into the street lit with small shops and lanterns outside other restaurants, the distant sound of traffic punctuated by the occasional boisterous calls of drunk businessmen and party goers. He took a great big breath, looking up at the clear sky. "Man, I'm stuffed!"
"It was a good meal," Asami said as he strolled along with more decorum, lighting up a cigarette.
Akihito slowed his pace, looking askance at him. "Alright, who are you and what've you done with Asami?"
Asami cast him a questioning look.
"You're being... nice. Like, polite. And civil. You even have your own lighter like a normal person."
Asami smirked, golden eyes flashing. And with that one look the darkness gathered and the air about him crackled. "If you tell anyone, I'd have to kill you."
A mere week or two ago Akihito might have worried. Now he just rolled his eyes. "Aaand there's the mean old scumbag I know."
A passing group of girls looked at him wide-eyed as they passed.
Asami just walked quietly, his lips curved upwards at the corners as he puffed out a long cloud of smoke. "Thank you for the date, Akihito."
Akihito gaped. "That wasn't a date!"
"You took me out for dinner."
"That's just two guys having dinner!"
"You paid."
"That – that's only 'cos you've been paying for all my food recently!"
"I see, so it's one date per meal, is it? I must have Kirishima check the number of meals we've had to make sure I'm not short changed."
Akihito flushed. "What the hell are you assuming all by yourself? That's not what I said!"
"Well, however many it may be, I look forward to all our dates to come." Having had to hold back during the meal, Asami showed no restraint now with the double entendres. "Let me know what you want me to bring to the table. Hard wooden spoon? Crème fraîche? Banana in the fruit salad? Meat on the bone? Shall I squeeze your hot dog? Core your apple? Donut wear pants? Pretzel between the sheets –"
"Argh! Asami, stop! For the love of god!" Akihito whined as his face heated up even more. "You're impossible! And stop with that goddamned voice!"
"Hmm? What voice would that be, Akihito?" Asami purred, deep and rough and vibrating all the way to Akihito's toes.
Far more flustered at the thought of the aforementioned meat on the bone than Akihito would ever admit, he had to consciously force his legs to start moving again, having stalled at some point without him noticing. He stomped his way back to the subway station. "I knew I was going to regret this! Fine, if you're gonna be such a perverted ass, I'll just go off on my own next time."
Asami merely chuckled as he followed along, keeping track of Suoh and the other bodyguards moving in sync amidst the shadows and scatter of other people.
But no sooner had they arrived back at the condo and Kirishima met them outside than Akihito was reminded why he couldn't go scarpering off on his own just yet.
Asami abruptly hauled him against his side, his arm heavy across Akihito's shoulder. Suoh, Kirishima, Sagano and Nakatani surrounded them in an instant, forming a protective shield.
"What are you..." Akihito's words faded at the scuffle that erupted not ten metres behind them. Between the gaps he saw two men dropping to the concrete, no contest against the cluster of black suits that swarmed around them. One was groaning, the other motionless. A flash of a gun with a silencer caught his eye before Asami's bodyguards blocked his view, one of them crouching to go through pockets.
He wordlessly rushed over with a picture. Of Akihito. Akihito could only cling to Asami's suit as Asami coolly handed it to Kirishima.
"Sagano, see to it that our guests enjoy our hospitality to the fullest." Ice cold, a portent of death, it was a voice Asami never directed at Akihito. "Have them ready for my visit later."
The guard bowed sharply and led off a group of men with the 'guests' in tow.
"Shall I cancel the session, sir?" Suoh asked.
"No, there are enough men."
"I'll redistribute," Suoh nodded as he spoke into his sleeve mike. He followed, guarding the rear as Asami steered Akihito through the doors of the luxury condominium.
"Who were they?"
The shaky voice made Asami glance at the blond before replying. "Don't concern yourself. They're of no threat."
Akihito was silent as they waited for the elevator. He glanced back once more, peering between the protective circle of Kirishima, Suoh and more guards before the elevator doors parted.
"They're really after me, aren't they?" he said softly.
"Not for much longer. And even so, I'll keep you safe."
They stepped into the elevator with three other guards. Akihito pursed his lips, slumping against the polished mirror. To be after Akihito was one thing, but to have tracked him down here to Asami's place...
"What if you use me as bait?"
Golden eyes shot across to him. Akihito had his arms wrapped about himself but his eyes were clear and steady despite being obviously shaken. Determined, even.
A crease lined Asami's brow. "There's no need for such foolishness."
"It's not foolish! If it means rooting out the remaining hitmen –"
"They'll only be replaced with more. They're only the symptoms. Unless we root out the cause, they'll keep on coming."
"But it's me they're after and I'm not doing anything! I'm just hiding out with you and your men's lives are at risk because of it! You can't expect me to be ok with that!"
He didn't see the others glance at him, taken aback.
"Is it worth getting killed for absolutely no reason?" Asami snapped, his deliberate harshness as effective as a slap in the face. He continued when he had Akihito's complete attention. "Impatience kills faster than curiosity, Akihito. Exercise control, when you should wait. Decisiveness, when you should act. It's how to survive in this world that you've thrown yourself into."
Akihito was shrinking from Asami's ferocious gaze while simultaneously seeking safe haven in their molten depths. He tried to laugh, but all he managed was a nerve-wracking, hollow sound. "I'm doomed to an early grave then, aren't I? Spontaneous abandon's more my kind of style."
There was a pause before Asami unexpectedly huffed at that, almost a laugh, the hard edge about him easing. "Of course it is. Flying by the seat of your pants. A haphazard, careening rollercoaster through life. How could I have possibly forgotten?" He sighed, sliding a hand over Akihito's jaw and curling around the neck, his thumb brushing over Akihito's cheek still tainted by the shadow of fear.
Under Asami's heavy demeanour there was that hint of forbearance that made Akihito stare wide eyed and made his pulse trip, that made him think that maybe this hard, uncompromising man understood him after all.
"Come with me."
"Whoa...!"
A few floors down from Asami's penthouse was a dojo. A dojo. Akihito had the jarring sense of being warped hundreds of years back into Shogunate Japan.
Maybe the size of eight badminton courts, it was hard to put a context to the space. Most of the floor was covered with tatami mats, bordered with a metre-wide path of polished hardwood. There was a dynamic buzz in the air, sharp commands and shouts ringing out here and there as twenty or so men sparred in groups of twos to fours in areas demarked with subtle arrangements of the tatami mats. Half of one side wall was a veritable armoury, and it must have been the most organized one on the planet with how meticulously everything was arranged into rows – sticks of every length and thickness and some with blades on one or both ends and some linked by short chains, swords of more shapes and sizes than he'd ever seen, daggers, nunchucks, spears, scythes, sais and... Akihito's general knowledge run out after that for the range of stuff he was seeing. The supporting beams and raised ceiling were dark ancient hardwood, shoji screens covered windows or alcoves, two old scrolls of calligraphy dominated the forward wall. But by far the most stunning of all were the metre-high, solid wooden ranma running all around the periphery walls below the ceiling – breathtaking relief carvings of pine trees and cherry trees, mountains and cranes and even what looked like eagles and phoenixes.
It was like something straight out of the Tokugawa period. Or – "Shit, Morpheus, you loaded a Matrix training program, didn't you?" Akihito blurted out. "'Cos who the hell else trains in suits?"
That was when Akihito realized that everyone was staring at him. Everyone. They were all standing to attention like someone had given a command that Akihito had missed because he was too busy gawking around the place. Had he just committed some major dojo faux pas? Great going, Aki...
But Asami merely smirked, squeezing the slender shoulder as he stepped around. Everyone seemed to relax a bit at that.
Slipping out of his shoes in the conspicuous centre space that had been left in the neat rows of polished shoes in the genkan, Asami stepped up onto the dojo floor and started about the perimeter. His barely-there nod had Suoh barking a command that broke the trance, all the men bowing to the top boss before bowing to each other and resuming their bouts.
Akihito toed off his shoes and followed. Seeing so much combat might have been a trigger for his fluctuating trauma except the sight of so many men in black bodyguard suits trying to punch the living daylights out of each other really did make him think Neo and Mr Smith were gonna come crashing through the wall covered in plaster dust any second. Akihito felt safer just being with Asami too, subconsciously or not.
"Ok, this is kinda awesome," Akihito admitted quietly behind Asami. "But what's with the suits? Aren't they restrictive?"
"Precisely why we train this way," Asami explained, watching his men like a hawk. "Theirs are designed to allow for movement but there are still some restrictions compared to traditional gi. They need to be familiar moving in suits so as not to be hindered in real life combat."
"That makes sense." Akihito could sense the energy in the air, the men thriving on the challenge and physical exertion. "They're really going for it, huh?"
"They're all capable practitioners in their various martial disciplines. They can hone their skills here, experience different fighting styles, stay sharp."
Asami paused beside two men sparring. The shorter one feinted high, ducked under his partner's guard and delivered two sharp blows to the ribs before darting back out of reach. Akihito was impressed until the guy glanced at Asami, which was when the taller guy swept his leg out from underneath and they ended up grappling on the floor. Asami moved on without comment. Akihito wondered at this until he heard Suoh giving the distracted guy a tongue lashing behind them. Blond Tank was the Chief of Security so maybe this was his domain, even if they were all ultimately Asami's men. No doubt Asami would step in if he deemed anything unacceptable but it was more like he trusted Suoh's abilities.
Akihito parked himself on a bench and out of the way as Asami carried on.
Rather than the training, as impressive as it was, Akihito found himself watching the power dynamics between Asami and his men. Heightened tension followed Asami as clearly as ripples on a lake, but he was somewhat removed from their direct training. He made no comment, merely pausing and drifting as he pleased, but the awe that his men held him in was obvious. Blond Tank and Glasses were also intriguing. At first glance they seemed to be functioning independently, but in amongst directing the bouts and changing of sparring partners, they were also constantly keyed in on Asami's every signal. Whenever his expression tightened or his gaze hardened at certain bodyguards, they were there, mostly Suoh but Kirishima as well, picking up on the silent directions and instructing the men.
But it wasn't just the physical training, Akihito realized. The more he was around Asami, the more differences he saw in how Asami treated Suoh and Kirishima compared to the rest of the men, the different onion layers of his inner circle. Akihito didn't know if any of the other men were held in the same confidence but it was a whole different level of trust, or loyalty, or reliance or whatever it was. There were at least two men in the room who would kill and die for Asami and take their secrets to the grave.
Not only that, but Akihito was sensible enough to recognize the enormity of Asami letting him see all of this, the inner workings of his security force. How the fuck had Akihito landed in this perplexing position where he seemed to be included in that inner onion layer?
As he was drowning under the weight of such thoughts, Akihito spotted the guard he got into trouble when he'd fled Asami's condo before. Flooded with relief to see the guy alive, Akihito skirted slowly around the dojo, inching closer until the bout finished, hovering next to Blond Tank.
The big guy glanced down at him.
"Can I talk to him? Just for a sec?"
Suoh gave him a curt nod before catching the guard's eye and summoning him over with a jerk of the chin. "Takebuchi, step out," he ordered, a commanding voice without needing volume. Akihito hadn't heard this tone from Blond Tank before, having always been tempered down around Asami. "He's all yours," he said more gently to Akihito.
Akihito blinked, suddenly feeling a great weight to his simple request as though it carried authority. "Uh... Thanks. Sorry. I won't be long." Feeling supremely awkward, he headed out to the nearest wall with the guard following.
Akihito was even more uncomfortable when the guard bowed to him, forty-five degrees from the waist, back ram-rod straight, head tucked down. Total respect.
"You don't have to do that," Akihito flapped his hands. "I just wanted to apologize. I think I landed you in a load of shit when I ran off before, and, well, I just hope you're ok."
The guard looked totally taken aback, eyes going wide, his jaw dropping. Then he dropped into an even deeper bow. "I am grateful for the concern, Takaba-sama, but please be assured no apologies are necessary."
It was Akihito's turn to gape. What the hell was with all the bowing and the super-polite language? He glanced across the dojo – to find Asami watching with unmistakable amusement. What the hell was the bastard playing at? Akihito stammered some reply and let the alarmed bodyguard return to his training.
Akihito was just wondering if he should hound Asami about it here or wait until later, when things shifted. All the men moved to form a perimeter about one sparring area in the middle of the dojo and sat formerly in seiza [respectful kneeled position].
Suoh stepped into the middle. He faced off three opponents. There was no suspenseful build-up, they simply bowed and engaged. Akihito hunkered down behind someone to watch.
The three were perfectly capable fighters in their own right and coordinated well to attack together, becoming one entity with six arms and legs. Or so it seemed to Akihito. But Suoh was in a league of his own. He parried nearly all punches and kicks, sidestepping and glancing off with blocks as he closed in to counter in pretty much the same breath, seemingly taking a few strategic hits to force an opening and take them down, one at a time, where they rolled off and cleared the floor, bowing before retaking their seat at the perimeter. Then another three men rose and engaged, and were likewise dealt with quickly. They kept on until Suoh bowed off two minutes later, inhaling one big breath to return to his usual stoic calm, barely breaking sweat.
Kirishima was next. Even to Akihito's untrained eye he had an entirely different style of fighting. He spent longer parrying and deflecting attacks, but when he countered it was with frightening – and perplexing – efficiency. Utilizing opportunities that Akihito couldn't even see, in a blink Kirishima would rush in close to his opponent, then seemingly just squeeze the shoulder or the arm or somewhere, and the guy would crumble as though his body was suddenly as useful as fish on dry land. Each would roll away and bow out, then shake or rub out whatever body part had been subjected to this mysterious touch as though the effect lingered. It was when Kirishima performed the technique on an arm, blocking a punch and sliding his hand up to the elbow to press just inside the bone and making the guy fold in half, that Akihito realized that he was going for pressure points. Fricking hell, Asami hadn't been joking when he'd said that Kirishima was dangerous, armed or not. He took a little longer than Blond Tank to dispatch each group of three men but he still made it look easy. Two minutes passed and Kirishima cleared the area.
Then Asami stepped forward and Akihito stopped breathing. The men remained sitting perfectly still but there was a tangible buzz in the air.
The men were wary when they took their turns stepping forward. Akihito could see it, even as they braced and threw themselves in their coordinated threes with everything they had at their top boss. Lightning fast, Asami's blows and parries were almost too fast to see, countering and taking the men down one after another. It looked brutal, the blocks and counterattacks solid enough to jolt the opponents, the rapid flip over the hip or the shoulder, the slam to the tatami floor. But to a man they all rolled away, clearing the floor, returning to their seats without looking too much the worse for wear.
Asami was hot. Akihito was experiencing a transformative moment of some description as he sat there gaping at Asami, in his three-piece suit, taking down a volley of his men with staggering discipline of strength and technique.
Akihito's heart was thumping just watching the lethal effectiveness of that man. Was he gay after all? But he hadn't reacted like this watching anyone else. He could appreciate Suoh's incredible strength or Kirishima's deceptively effective skill, the varied martial styles of all the men, but he didn't find them hot. Asami, on the other hand... Asami was breathtaking in his element.
But gay or bi, guys or girls, did he even care about labels? Akihito reacted to Asami. End of. His body inappropriately directing blood southwards was a clear indication that he was into Asami as far as his dick was concerned. Maybe that's all that mattered. Not that his brain could help suss it out, having unhelpfully traipsed off into la-la land with its singular vocabulary of Phwooaarr.
Maybe Asami was just so fucking hot he transcended gender.
Akihito snorted at himself.
He was still dealing with his elevated body temperature as the men dispersed back to their sparring groups with renewed vigour. Asami found him back on the bench, throwing him a knowing smirk as Akihito carefully avoided his gaze.
Asami sat deliberately too close, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. "Seems you enjoyed the show."
Akihito's battle with his rising heat was lost at Asami's pointed glance at his crotch. "Oh, shut up," he mumbled, pulling a knee up to hide the bulge. He didn't even try to pull Asami's leg about someone else setting him off, not wanting to send any heads rolling. "Is this normal? All the training, I mean!" he added as Asami's eyes glinted with wicked zeal.
"Several times a week. The sessions vary depending on duty rotas and other schedules."
"Do you do mock battles too?" Akihito suddenly perked up. "Hey, do you use paint ball guns? I bet you'd kick ass at paint ball!"
The men nearby carried on training despite his outburst.
"We run combat simulations but we have other venues set up especially for that," Asami told him.
"Like movie sets? Cool. Paint ball or laser?"
Asami cast him a flat look as though to say that Akihito was missing the seriousness of the training. "No paint ball."
Akihito laughed easily, drawing startled looks from several men waiting to commence their bouts. "Yeah, you're right. Those things hurt like a bitch, I can see why you'd want to steer clear."
"Yes, because that's why we don't use paint ball," Asami deadpanned.
"You said it, you big wuss," Akihito grinned. "Though I don't know. I'm sure some splashes of colour here and there would brighten up the whole doom and gloom moodiness about you."
A couple of men coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like spluttering.
Akihito would have been perfectly happy to carry on if Asami hadn't leaned right in, his lips against Akihito's ear, his words whisper soft.
"Don't mention that I carry a sidearm." Smirking at Akihito's startled face, Asami turned to watch the sparring nearby.
What the hell? So not all these men knew about it? Akihito had been right about there being different onion layers of trust going on in the ranks. Though surely they must suspect something by now, sparring the way they did and contact being inevitable? Maybe it was a plausible deniability thing.
They remained side by side on the bench watching for a while. Akihito could feel the tension rolling off the men nearby being under the boss' close scrutiny. He felt unease tugging at his conscience again, seeing them training so hard when he himself couldn't even save himself from a mugger...
"Can you teach me?"
Asami's gaze shot across at his quiet question.
"Or, I mean, can someone? If I could defend myself, even a bit..." Akihito trailed off under the weight of Asami's undivided attention, shifting self consciously. He rubbed at his neck, huffing at himself. "Yeah, you're right, I guess that was pretty daft..."
"Think you can get in one hit?" Asami challenged.
"Huh? Wha– huh?!"
Asami dragged a startled Akihito to a vacant area by the forward wall and started showing him stances and guard positions. Which was all well and good except –
"How is this about defending myself?" Akihito demanded in an undertone as Asami's hand slid down his inner thigh to shift his leg, physically moving him into a stance with one leg in front of the other.
"Grounding and solid stance work is critical to a good defence," Asami instructed calmly.
"Can't you just show me rather than... showing me!" Akihito's voice tripped up an octave as Asami's large hands braced his abdomen and ass.
"Keep your weight on your back leg, back straight, tuck your ass in." Asami physically rotated Akihito's pelvis under, the hand at the front slipping low enough to brush against the subtle hump in Akihito's jeans.
"You can't be this hands-on with everyone?!"
"Of course not," Asami remarked, his mouth entirely too close and warm against Akihito's pink ears. "I reserve this instruction method solely for the most unmanageable of brats."
"You perverted baka!" Akihito hissed quietly. But not quietly enough. Those closest heard it, as well as Asami's chuckle. Akihito had no idea the amount of furtive glances exchanged behind them.
"Keep your hands fisted, protect your fingers." Asami grabbed Akihito's hands, each of his large hands engulfing Akihito's as he curled them into fists. Akihito felt his face warm up as their eyes met. "Thumbs on the outside, or you'll break them when you make contact. Keep your guard up." Asami brought the fists slightly forward of his face.
Asami was endlessly patient as he led Akihito through some basic blocks, circling the blocking hand into a counter strike, elbowing if he found his opponent too close, pointing out vulnerable targets like the eyes and throat and groin, building up to using those techniques while stepping around in his stance and watching his opponent's guard and attacks.
It was overwhelming. Not just from the novelty of such movements or even from Asami's extremely physical teaching method, but because of this bewilderingly indulgent, patient, non-judgemental side that this supposedly merciless crime lord kept showing him.
The men were likewise startled when their dark and foreboding boss started mock-sparring with the young man. Lightly teasing, tapping the occasional 'hit' with a finger but so light and few and far between that it couldn't even be called pulling his punches. Giving pointers here and there ("Don't overreach. You'll throw yourself off balance," and, repeatedly, "Keep your guard up"), even praising when Akihito finally spotted a deliberate opening left for the third time and jabbed him the stomach, though that soon descended into what was a lot less wrestling and a lot more groping. Which was followed by that carefree laughter and provocative swearing, accompanied by a low responding chuckle. Some of the men were so thoroughly distracted by this light-hearted side to their ruthless boss that they would have been slaughtered in their bouts – if their opponent hadn't likewise been gobsmacked.
Akihito knew well enough that Asami was only messing with him, deliberately provoking him to draw him out of his gloomy rut. But he couldn't deny it felt good to let the stress out, to be able to throw himself into the physical exertion knowing he couldn't hurt Asami, even if Asami did seem to be increasingly caressing and copping a feel than pretend hitting...
"Guard up," Asami told him for the hundredth time.
"Urgh..." Tired, though in a good way, Akihito swung a sloppy fist. He found himself not only deflected but in a blur he was grabbed, pivoted over Asami's hip, his legs flipped out from under him, heart in his throat –
But the expected smack down never came. Asami dropped with him and somehow what followed was one second of careful descent that had Akihito flat out on the floor with barely a bump.
Laughter bubbled up Akihito's chest as he lay there. "Awesome." He threw an arm over his eyes, the motion hitching up his tee and exposing skin.
Asami's eyes darkened. "Clear the room."
No louder than Asami's usual voice, but nevertheless it resonated, the command carrying to every corner. Akihito sat up blinking, a little bit awed as, to a man, Asami's men all bowed and marched for the doorway without question or hesitation, with Suoh and Kirishima directing the organized exodus.
"I must frustrate the hell out of you, huh? Never doing a single thing you want me to."
"We wouldn't be here if I wanted you any different, Akihito."
That tone indicated Asami meant a hell of a lot more than just physically being in the dojo. Partly skirting such a touchy issue, partly because the look in Asami's eyes was making him tingly all over which was definitely cause to scarper, Akihito played dumb.
"Right... But uh, well, just this once, I'll make an exception," Akihito announced magnanimously as he made to stand. "I'll leave you to it."
But Asami loomed over him and backed him to the floor again, bracing himself over Akihito on one knee and the opposite hand. Even before the last of the guards had left, Asami tipped up his chin up and slanted their lips together.
"Mmph!" Akihito tried to shove free but Asami pinned one of his wrists to the mat, bearing more of his weight down to make Akihito's other arm pushing against his chest ineffectual too. Akihito wrenched his face away. "You perverted baka, you can't do that here!"
Turning his head had brought the entrance way into view, and Akihito was faced with the mortifying sight of Glasses and Blond Tank bowing out, carefully not meeting his eyes as they closed the doors.
"Now that we're alone," Asami observed with ominous delight, trailing his nose along Akihito's cheek.
"It doesn't matter! Whatever you're thinking, it's neither the time nor the place!"
"And what is it that I'm thinking?"
"Don't play dumb!"
"You mean like you are?"
"I – well – that's only 'cos I was trying to save you the indignity of being turned down!"
"How generous of you, Akihito. Then why don't you save me my dignity this way – if you can get me undressed faster than I can strip you, then I'll consider myself turned down."
Akihito flushed bright. "That doesn't even make any sense! It's completely absurd! In every way!"
"Yes I suppose you're right, it's hardly fair when I'm wearing rather more than you are." Asami abruptly reared up on his knees and wrenched off his jacket. He threw it carelessly aside as Akihito made to yell at him, but then Akihito could only lie there in wide-eyed stupefaction as Asami unbuckled and slipped off his holster, complete with the blasted gun, and tossed them in the vicinity of his jacket.
"You just – you can't just –" Akihito was still gaping like a fish. He snapped his mouth closed. "Wow, you really don't hide that from me, do you?"
The waistcoat followed its compatriots. Asami smirked. "I still have an inherent advantage so I'll give you a head start. You can start undressing me first."
"Wha –" Akihito started backing out from between Asami's knees. "I'm not undressing you, you're being ridiculous!"
"Very well then, seeing as you insist. An even playing field it is." Asami began pulling at Akihito's clothes.
"Waa – stop that!" Akihito grabbed at them too, trying to keep them on.
"Wrong set of clothes, Akihito. You'll never have a chance like that. Unless what you're really trying to tell me is that you want me to take all sorts of liberties with you?" Asami wrestled away Akihito's belt as he licked a lewd line up the column of Akihito's neck, making him shiver deliciously all the way down his spine.
Mortified and aroused and infuriated and flustered – and did he mention aroused? – Akihito vented a frustrated yell as he retaliated by simply yanking on Asami's shirt as hard as he could, sending the buttons flying. But Asami didn't seem to mind at all. On the contrary he was chuckling against Akihito's chaotic pulse.
"This is so fucking ridiculous," Akihito declared. "You are so fucking ridiculous!"
Abandoning the shirt, 'cos let's face it, there was no way Akihito was going to be able to get those arms of steel out of them any time soon, he switched targets. They attacked each other's pants at the same time. Akihito was trying to wriggle himself away from Asami's grabby hands as he reached for Asami's belt and button and flies and it all just turned into one gropey wrestling match as they rolled all around and over each other on the floor. It didn't help that Asami kept sneaking in a lick here, a touch there, even slipping his tongue right into Akihito's mouth at one point and squeezing his ass, making Akihito gasp and stirring him up all the more, with irritation or fire, he hadn't a clue by this point.
Asami let him scramble away but grabbed a leg in the process, effectively spinning him around so they were upside down to each other. But Akihito could work with that. He threw a leg over Asami's chest, trying to pin the bastard down as he went for the suit trousers. Asami let him haul them off, even letting him escape halfway, before Asami dragged off his jeans and boxers away in one easy swipe, leaving Akihito only in his tee.
It was as Akihito was chasing the tight black boxers halfway down Asami's thighs that Asami went for the kill shot. He grabbed the trim waist, yanked Akihito's body over him, chest to chest but the wrong way, and sucked Akihito's cock into his mouth.
"Haahhnn...!"
Akihito gasped a full body shudder at the abrupt overload of wet heat. Only then, huffing a breath, clinging to Asami's hard lines which was the only thing he could grab onto, did he realize the position they were in. Not only was he straddling Asami's face but that giant erection was also right in his face.
"You planned this all along, you perverted bastard!" he gasped as Asami gave a long, hard suck all along the length of his suddenly very hard erection.
There was no reply because, well, d'uh. But Asami didn't force the issue. He just let himself stand proud out of his boxers and left the decision to Akihito. But Asami was working magic with the swirl of his tongue and the squeeze of his throat muscles and Akihito's lucidity was quickly becoming scrambled.
"Fucking ridiculous," Akihito grumbled as he finally relented, grabbed Asami's formidable erection and licked from base to tip.
It could have turned into an unspoken competition of who could make the other come first, had it not been for Akihito's discovery that it was the most distracting thing ever to give head while receiving it from the likes of Asami. There was just no contest. Akihito couldn't maintain any rhythm or technique, couldn't even think to start slow and stir his way up. Asami reduced his entire focus to the aching, tantalizing, too-gentle, too-hard wetness engulfing his dick with sweet ecstasy, and it was with every gasp and quiver and clasp and flex that Asami provoked in him that he sucked on Asami.
In no time at all he was cresting, pushing his hips helplessly deeper into Asami's mouth. But just as Akihito was tensing up ready to fill Asami's mouth, the luscious squeezing eased off. His groan of protest around Asami's erection hitched on a sharp inhale as Asami's tongue probed the narrow entrance at the tip of his cockhead. And all he could do was brace himself against the floor and Asami's legs, his mouth uselessly moaning around Asami's velvet hardness, his body quivering under Asami's wondering hands. Asami enveloped him in heaven and pierced him on an unfamiliar knife edge radiating from the tip of his cock, stirring him faster than pleasure alone would have done.
I need to come!
With his shaking fingers wrapped blindly around the hard thighs, Akihito's breathy whine and desperate sucking on Asami's erection were his wordless pleas. Asami responded, storming him through a blazing orgasm that had him bucking so much he choked himself on Asami's pulsing cock.
It was a small miracle that he hadn't bitten it clean off. Asami eased him sideways onto the floor, letting him flop. Shuddering on aftershocks, struggling to catch his breath, Akihito pulled his mouth free and peeled one eye open just to check. Yep, it was still there, the stunning obelisk all glistening and proud.
He closed his eyes, all jelly-limbed and floating on bliss as Asami gave several last lazy draws before releasing Akihito's softening length.
But as Asami leaned over him, sharing Akihito's taste on Asami's tongue and reaching between his legs, Akihito pushed him back.
"Wait, Asami..." There was a different kind of hesitation in Akihito's voice. Perhaps that was why Asami actually paused, studying his face, his hand rubbing along his leg instead.
A blush bloomed all the way up Akihito's face as he squirmed free and sat up. "Can I – can – can you..." His mouth worked several more moments before he sagged, too embarrassed to say any more.
Asami's eyes glinted with gleeful amusement as he propped himself up on an elbow. "Is it some new fetish you can't tell me about?"
"No! Nothing like that! Just... uh..."
Asami smirked as he likewise sat up. "Now, what could have you so embarrassed, Akihito? Perhaps this is something we should explore."
"No! No no no, god no, no exploring necessary!" Akihito pushed back as Asami crowded him.
"Then tell me. Or I'll find as many other ways to embarrass you as possible."
"Huh?! How's that fair?"
"I'm not going for fair, I'm going for answers. I'll get it out of you even if it's by making you far more embarrassed than you would have been just telling me in the first place. What would it take, I wonder? Shall I make you narrate everything I do to you, how my every touch makes you feel, how you harden and quiver –"
"Argh, you perverted bastard! Fine! All I was gonna say was – all I was – gonna say... Uh... Um..."
After waiting another moment, Asami arched a brow. "We can always revisit the secret room –"
"I want you to come in my mouth!"
The blush spread all the way up Akihito's chest to his face in the resounding silence that followed his outburst. Then Asami was laughing and Akihito turned even redder.
"You asshole!" Akihito punched his chest. "You made me say it, don't fucking laugh!"
Asami hooked Akihito close with an arm looped about his neck, toppling the smaller man into his lap as he smothered further objections with an intrusive kiss. "I'll be sure to make it up to you by coming in your mouth or on your face or wherever you like," Asami purred wickedly.
"Y-you baka!" Akihito stuttered, trying to scramble free.
Asami didn't let him go far, only enough to get one leg over on the other side before hauling Akihito back in, straddling over his lap. "Shall I leave my shirt on or do you want me naked? And where do you want me? Right here? On my knees over you? Pinned down under you?"
"Argh! How can you just say things like that?!"
"I told you, Akihito. I'll give you whatever you need for all your wet dreams."
"Oh my god!" Akihito wailed, "why do you have to make everything a gazillion times more embarrassing than it has to be?! Actually don't bother answering that. It's 'cos you're a sadistic perverted... ruffian!"
"Ruffian now, am I?" Asami grinned.
Akihito glared from where he was straddled over Asami's lap, trying his damndest to ignore their cocks rubbing against each other. "I would've gone with rapscallion but you're way too old for that. Practically ancient."
"Really, Akihito? And yet you're the one who can't keep up and always telling me to stop."
Akihito's mouth flapped, gobsmacked. "You – you fucking bastard, you know why that is!" he yelled, punching the infuriatingly solid chest again. Asami totally deserved it.
"So we're back to fucking bastard. But you want me to come in your mouth so I can't fulfil that for you just yet –"
"Oh for fuck's sake, just shut up and lie down!" Akihito shoved at the broad shoulders that were shaking with silent laughter, feeling like he'd expire from embarrassment if Asami kept this up.
Asami obligingly let himself be toppled backwards as Akihito half slid off to the side, one lean leg still thrown over the muscley thighs. Asami lay there looking entirely too deliciously sinful in his open shirt with an arm thrown behind his head.
"What do you want, Akihito? How does this fantasy go?"
"For the last time, it's not a fantasy!" Akihito gritted out. "Just..." His cheeks glowed. "Touch yourself."
With a wicked smirk, Asami took himself in hand. Why the hell was Akihito still the one squirming and blushing like a virgin when Asami was the one stroking himself? Asami was... stroking... Akihito's blood plummeted into his own erection as Asami held his gaze without an ounce of shame, his dark smoulder making Akihito feel like he was the one being devoured whole.
Akihito swallowed hard. Fuck, a fuse must have blown somewhere in his circuitry. Or his brain had melted. Yep that must be it, just a pile of goo, the reason his fingers reached of their own accord and trailed over the ripcord contours, the washboard abs flexing subtly, the dip in the hips, the strong thighs. Akihito's hands were unsteady as he nudged the black boxers down those legs and Asami let him slide them off. Akihito palmed along Asami's arm and rested over the large hand steadily oscillating away.
After a moment Asami let go, only to grab Akihito's hand and then resumed fisting himself with it. With Akihito's hand. Fuck...
A funny breathy stutter came from the back of Akihito's throat. Nothing drove home their size difference than grabbing Asami with the same hand he used on himself at the same angle. Thicker and longer, harder even, it was nothing like fisting himself. But it wasn't just that. It was Asami showing him what he wanted, using Akihito's fingers to catch the sensitive ridge of the enlarged head, far rougher than Akihito ever was on himself.
Breathing hard, Akihito drank in the view that Asami was giving him. And all because he'd asked. Something tightened in his chest, a warm flurry in his gut.
Meeting the molten gold, he chewed his lip in a moment of hesitation, but then fuck it, he leaned over and licked off the precum beading at the tip. Asami gave a rough sigh, squeezing even harder over Akihito's hand and stroking faster, and Akihito felt emboldened enough to mouth at the swollen head. Fingers carded through his hair but without any pressure, just silent encouragement.
Then Asami let go. Akihito was already moving his hand by himself, his grip as hard as Asami had it. It could have been another level in their power game, it could have been Asami seeing how far Akihito would dare take it, but Akihito was left dumbfounded. Because there were no two ways about it, Asami was giving him control.
Asami propped himself up on an elbow, watching, waiting. With his breathing slightly laboured, smouldering Akihito with a blazing gaze that would have sent the Devil himself cowering back to hell, his obvious arousal washed away any awkwardness Akihito might have felt. Holding that ferocious gaze that burned straight to his own rock-hard arousal, Akihito widened his jaw to take Asami in further until his lips caught around the ridge of the large head and he swirled his tongue as he continued fisting away along the shaft.
Akihito found himself mesmerized by the involuntary flicker of Asami's eyes, the near-growl catching in that strong neck, the flexing of the ripcord abs revealed between the parted shirt. Hot fucking damn. Was this why Asami insisted on swallowing him down, to watch Akihito's reactions? Though Akihito doubted he himself could be anywhere near as satisfying to watch. Asami was a walking wet dream descended from Mount Olympus itself. Or Mount Sion, Akihito mused as he bobbed his head and lapped his tongue around the sizeable cockhead and stroked hard, all while the incredible power of this incredible man thrummed in his grasp and golden eyes burned his soul.
"Harder, Akihito."
Akihito's breath shuddered through his nose at the rough demand. Shit, no wonder Asami always took him so hard! He complied, grasping tighter, bobbing and stroking higher and lower in tandem, tag-teaming between his lips and his hand as he doubled the friction against that ridge.
There was a rasp in Asami's breath that Akihito recognized, a sound usually lost against his neck. He didn't quite know what made him do it – a desire to draw this out longer, maybe, or make it more intense as it always seemed to get when Asami did this to him. He was sure there was a bit of revenge in there somewhere too for precisely that. But when he knew that Asami was close, Akihito eased off.
He received a gleaming glare in return, a melting pot of challenge and lust and warning.
"Well, this is interesting," came Asami's soft murmur, and Akihito couldn't tell if it sounded more dangerous or amused.
But Asami hadn't taken the ball back from Akihito's court yet. So he ran with it, half from not knowing when he'd be in the driving seat again, half ensnared in Asami's spell. What was it the bastard was always saying? He gnawed at his lip, heat creeping up his cheeks, but threw caution to the wind and pitched his voice as commanding as he could – which wasn't much, but give him a break, he'd never done this before.
"Tell me what you want, Asami."
Dragon eyes zeroed in on him, astonished, scintillated, focusing like great telescopic lenses –
Courage fled. Whoosh. Leaving dust in the wake of its hasty departure and everything. Akihito folded, turning away, walls slamming up. "Oh my god, what the hell did I just –!"
Asami gathered him back in his arms with a look that could only be described as rapacious. "You never cease to amaze me, my dear Akihito."
"I didn't just say that! Forget I said... Oh fucking hell..."
Of course Asami wouldn't let it go, trapping the struggling man in his lap, overpowering him with words. "I want you to eat me up like you've never tasted anything better. I want your lips around me, your tongue tasting me, you're hands full of me. I want to soak you in my spend until my scent drips from your pores. I want you to beg me to stop and beg me for more and tell me everything you want from me. I want you bared to me, body and soul. I've told you before, Akihito. From you, I want everything."
Where was a meteorite to smite Akihito down when he needed one?
"You – you –" he stammered, his face beet-red. "You ridiculous bastard, does nothing embarrass you?"
Asami smirked. "And that. I want that."
Akihito gaped. "Me shouting abuse at you?"
"You. As you are."
Akihito died for the second time that day. He was plain gone, blindsided by this impossibly tender side to Asami that by all rights shouldn't have existed. Akihito couldn't even dismiss or deny or debunk it either, because while Asami's words might be demanding Akihito to bare his soul, it was Asami himself who was doing so in the process.
A hundred shades of crimson and Akihito was still getting redder. "You," he ground out firmly, riding on the vehemence of his mortification, "are too much." His rushed press of lips to Asami's stole any bite from his words.
An idea took hold and Akihito scrambled to his feet, but hesitated again as courage wavered in fits and bursts. He was sure Asami wouldn't put up with anything he didn't want to, but Akihito didn't really know where Asami's line lay. Especially if the line might fluctuate – 'cos arrogant bastard or not, Asami could be a rather generous bastard when he chose to be. And this was clearly turning out to be one of those days.
But Asami was still waiting on whatever Akihito wanted, the mighty erection still shameless and eager, and something had to be done either way. So Akihito grabbed all the courage he could with a sharp inhale and grabbed his own navy cotton boxers where they had been flung away.
He stepped close and straddled the strong legs as he kneeled over Asami. Even if he was sure that his complexion rather resembled the levels of mortification from that morning, he kept an eye out for any sign of aversion as he slowly, carefully, brought his boxers up to Asami's mouth and pushed them in with two fingers. Intense voracity gleamed in the golden gaze as Asami parted his lips and accepted it, bowling Akihito over.
Akihito wasn't sure what he'd expected. Maybe for Asami to chuck it aside and claim enough was enough. After all, Akihito had been wearing his underpants all day, they must smell of him... It wasn't that Akihito was looking to push this particular boat out, to dominate or top or anything like that. But with Asami letting him have this extraordinary control, the urge to explore it took hold like a compulsion and wouldn't let go. Asami always tended to have this effect on him, awakening feelings in him that he didn't even know was possible.
But now that they were here, he found himself frozen without any idea what to do.
With an arched brow of imperious amusement, Asami ate at the trembling fingers and took more of the cotton into his own mouth.
"Fuck...!"
Akihito wasn't conscious of his gasped profanity but it sure as hell couldn't be Asami seeing as he had Akihito's underpants wedged between his teeth.
"You're fucking ridiculous..." Soft with amazement, it sounded more like he was saying You're fucking incredible. He couldn't help but kiss the corner of Asami's mouth, landing on lips and cotton, and Akihito groaned. Asami's gaze was burning almost too hot to meet, it melted his insides to instant mush.
While he still had some modicum of rationality left, Akihito slid aside so he could lean over and kiss his way down the strong column of Asami's neck and down the broad chest, swelling himself at the soft breath of pleasure that he incited. He worked his mouth down the bumps of the stomach that would have been perfect as that pin-up they'd joked about, and then he was at Asami's length and he grabbed it and eagerly sucked it back in his mouth.
It was even fuller than before, if that was possible, engorged until the velvet skin was stretched so much it looked painful. The flex of the abs and all those ridiculously defined muscles were a sight to behold as Akihito shifted his hand and swirled his tongue, the taste of pre-cum stronger now as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. His moan was more vibration than sound, and it was answered by the strained rush of breath from above. Casting his eyes up overloaded Akihito's brain – his navy boxers dangled from between tight lips, golden eyes blazing like suns in a flushed face. Asami, ever glacially composed Asami, was flushed. The sculptured cheeks tinted pink, a light sheen all over.
Such a domineering bastard, and yet the control he gave Akihito... Not just this, it was one thing after another. No one else had ever done so much for him, demonstrated so much trust, given him so much of themselves. Akihito's eyes were moist and it had nothing to do with the monster dick poking at his throat. He wondered if Asami could see that as long fingers came to settle in his hair and their eyes met with something that was distinctly warm even amidst all the heat.
Akihito didn't let up this time, pulling hard along the thick shaft, catching his lip against the ridge of the impressive erection, sucking as deep as he could.
Asami's fingers tightened in the blond hair, pressing further, faster. One, two, threefourfiiiive – that was the only warning before Asami's eyes slid shut, his brow creasing and his mouth parting on a shaky exhale, his abs pulled rigid, his hand heavy as he held Akihito's head still and shot into Akihito's mouth. Rich and intoxicating, more potent than any aphrodisiac, more heady than Pocky which was just about the biggest deal ever in Akihito's books but holy flaming monkeys, Akihito was this close to coming himself as he watched Asami lost in that stunning moment of ecstasy. Akihito swallowed, there was just too much cum not to, but that motion only seemed to release another gush of Asami's rich taste and Akihito couldn't help moaning against the tightening in his own groin.
Akihito made sure Asami was finished and sucked carefully off from root to tip before sitting back, his face flushed and breathing hard. "Holy cow!" he gasped. He was never going to forget that image for as long as he lived.
But there was no chance to get his breath back. Asami fell back to the floor, throwing the boxers aside, hauling Akihito down over him for a hard kiss that became even harder at the taste of himself on Akihito's tongue.
Eyes blazed like hellfire. "I grant you the gift of my cum and you liken it to a sacred bovine?"
Akihito trembled inside. Who wouldn't, in the face of such blatant, ferocious hunger? But never one to cower, he threw back an impish grin. "Would you have preferred sacred excrement?"
If he wasn't mistaken, Asami only looked all the more amused as he attacked Akihito's lips again with a rumble in his chest.
Akihito was rather more shaken than he let on. Because he understood more now, the enormity of a man like Asami giving him those precious moments of control. And moreover, he was only beginning to realize, that's how it always was with Asami. Control was always to be given. Asami, giving him control. Akihito, giving Asami control – even if he had to be manhandled into giving it. But Asami never just took it.
Hot hands ran up his chest, pushing up his tee and dragging it off.
Perhaps Akihito had been foolish in Asami's office the day before, trying to needle Asami into losing control. It was with a bewildered gasp into Asami's mouth that Akihito suddenly recognized that, not only had he been naïve, but it wasn't at all what he wanted. Rough and hungry, sure. That made for awesome sex. But Akihito revelled in this part of Asami that could read him like a book, even stir and tease him to insanity, make him unravel far more completely than anyone else had ever come close to and always, always, bring him back together.
He thrilled in Asami's dominance.
He'd questioned it before. He'd wondered. But he'd never known. It dawned on him now with earth-shattering force, leaving him shaken and unsure.
He wanted to run. Run for the hills, flee Asami's grasp, away from the very person who'd flipped his life on its head and left him uncertain of his own sense of identity.
But there was another option. The dichotomy that Asami always invoked in him, the polar urges to run from and run to. The very cause of his insecurities could also be the key to pulling him back together.
It took him long moments to realize he was staring into Asami's eyes, the piercing gaze searching his. He instinctively ducked away, twisting, turning, pulling away with enough resistance that Asami let him go.
He stumbled to his feet, backing away a couple of steps, his breathing unsteady. Asami remained sitting there with an arm cast over his bent knee, his piercing gaze searching the maelstrom of emotions flashing across Akihito's face. Asami, by contrast, was the picture of calm. The eye of the storm.
I need this, Akihito thought. Don't you dare let me down, Asami. Not now.
It was a stupid demand when he couldn't even put it into words. But he was too choked up to speak. Hinging everything on his silent prayer, Akihito turned and ran.
Such stunned confusion, the disorientation – the brat didn't even have any inkling how easily Asami could read it all. The wide eyes that flickered, searching Asami's gaze, the faint tremble of his parted lips, the tight cheeks flushed on the surface but pale underneath. A crucial difference, not the bone-deep glow of arousal.
Clearly Akihito had just come to some seismic realization. The way Akihito was looking at him, Asami would have guessed it was what Asami had known all along, the effect they had on each other, each the answer to the other's fierce instincts. Either that, or Akihito was second-guessing his decision to destroy the damning footage that could have destroyed Asami. It was too late for that though.
It still amazed Asami how oblivious the brat could be when it came to himself. Put him with anyone else and Akihito could have them spilling their life story in no time with his disarming cheek and bright deposition. But he was blind as a bat when it came to himself and how far down the rabbit hole he'd already fallen.
Asami had to fight the smirk trying to curl across his lips at those hazel eyes shining like beacons. Such desperate hope. Even knowing full well the darkness lurking within, Akihito not only needed him, but wanted him.
Asami knew what would happen before it happened. The tensing of slender muscles, the fractional bracing of the feet. But he waited, unable to help himself from basking in that incredible need pouring out to him from this vibrant spark, feeding his dark emptiness. To think that a man like Takaba Akihito would look upon Asami like this... He'd seen the same question mirrored in Akihito, the wonder that those hazel eyes couldn't conceal. But in Asami it took the shape of a rather different animal. Didn't Akihito realize what Asami would do for him? Everything, he'd promised. Everything, that was, except to let go, should those bright eyes one day turn from him. Asami didn't know whether he'd have the strength for that. That might be the day he caged this wild spirit and smothered his soul.
But right now, Akihito was turning from him, not to leave but to incite, so Asami could hold him in the palm of his open hand and set him free.
Asami caught him before he'd even gone five paces. But Akihito was kicking and squirming and soon ran free again. And again Asami caught him. A brief tussle and then off again.
Akihito yelled in frustration by the third time. Asami was toying with him. "Let me go!"
He managed – or was allowed – six paces this time before Asami's arms locked about him again. "I'll always catch you, Akihito." The baritone rumbled, loaded with consequence.
Even as a rush of incredible relief flooded through him, Akihito writhed and twisted, bolting free with a jab with his elbow. There was a grunt behind him, and for a moment he spun back, worried he'd actually hurt the bastard. But Asami smirked right back, as though delighting in his concern. Akihito flared with indignation, but with just a hint of a smile twitching on his lips because damn it but yes, this – or, more precisely, Asami coming after him and silencing his uncertainties – was what he'd wanted but the whole thing was a little bit ridiculous. Asami in his open shirt, missing most of the buttons, and Akihito stark naked except for his socks, playing some perverted tag game... Ok, it was more than a little. It was way ridiculous.
Akihito backed off, not taking his eyes off the Adonis. "There must be some dojo rule against naked wrestling."
"Why would there be? Intense physical activity, exploration of the human form, dedicated paired training – it's perfect."
It was as Akihito snorted at this that Asami pounced, tackling him to the floor. Akihito flinched, expecting a hard landing, but he found himself buffeted against Asami's chest as Asami somehow crashed to the floor first with Akihito on top. Asami rolled over him, caught his wrists, lowering most of himself over Akihito to pin him down.
It was all too much. Akihito started laughing.
"I've left you wanting," Asami smirked as their erections glided against each other, neither of them soft. "How remiss of me."
Akihito let out a breathy sigh. "Don't sweat it. I know at your age you need more recovery time."
Asami narrowed his amused gaze at him. "Let's see who needs more recovery time, shall we?"
Akihito struggled, giving it a good show even if he wasn't really trying to flee. Asami's hold was hard, inescapable, but never painful.
"Don't force yourself," Akihito intoned with mock sympathy. "Not good for the health, you know. I mean, you were already panting into my boxers there, you don't want your heart giving out."
Akihito stared wide eyed at his own outrageous taunt before he was spluttering with laughter that couldn't be contained.
Asami's eyes blazed like firestorms as he growled with mock outrage, "You audacious brat. That's funny, is it?" His smirk promised heaven and hell – mostly hell – as he locked an arm about Akihito's waist and sat them both up, pulling a wriggling Akihito astride his lap. He shoved three fingers into Akihito's mouth as Akihito laughed and licked and sputtered around them. "It won't be my heart giving out, I can promise you that."
Withdrawing his fingers, he reached back for Akihito's ass as he twisted a handful of the blond hair, forcing Akihito's head back to arch the lean stomach forward against Asami.
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," Akihito huffed, his voice strained at this angle, his hands scrabbling against the powerful shoulders.
Asami's breath whispered over Akihito's jagged pulse, teeth scraping rough and hot as his fingers below circled the ring of muscle. "Indeed. A man should hold true to his word and see it through. Rigorously –" he pushed one finger in, drew it out, "vigorously –" two fingers this time, pressing all the way in, "to the fucking end." Three fingers delved in right to the knuckle.
"Oh god...!" Akihito's breath froze, tears pricking his eyes. Too much, too fast, the burning stretch whirled amidst the lightning bolt being sucked into his neck, the sharp tug of his hair. He clung harder to Asami's shoulders. "A-Asami...!"
"I'll smother you until the only option left to you is to submit, until there's no possible way to fight or run anymore. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Akihito stared tremulously. "I never said..." How on earth could Asami know that?
Asami withdrew his fingers, lining up his ample erection. "I'll give you everything, Akihito, until I'm all that's left of your world. Nothing else matters."
He sheathed deep and consumed Akihito's keening cry in a bruising kiss, claiming the deepest caverns body and mind. Akihito put on a show of struggling, even as he welcomed Asami overpowering him and dissolving him to desperate pleas and shattered cries, his body on fire with sweet poison blazing through his veins. And when there was finally no choice left but to give himself over, it was with surging relief that Asami hadn't let him down, safe in the unshakable knowledge that Asami would see him through.
Asami engulfed him with a sweeping kiss and words that gave no quarter, as significant as the soaring cranes overhead. "I hold your freedom in my hands. But have you already forgotten, Akihito? The one who holds mine, is you."
Understanding dawned as the sun that had broken through the mists over Mount Fuji. Asami returned as much of himself as Akihito gave in his act of surrender. Far from one-sided, far from making him weak or a lesser man. It was with a heart-torn sob that Akihito realized that it was ok to let go. With Asami, it was ok.
His shaking hands cupped the stunning face that looked to him to understand, to catch up. "Asami..." He crushed their lips together, all the feelings he couldn't put into words concentrated in that one touch. Drawing back, his mouth quirked lopsided. "What were you saying about making my heart give out?"
Asami was indeed a man of his word and he rigorously, vigorously fucked Akihito to earth-shattering, tear-stained oblivion. But more importantly, he was there to pull Akihito back together again.
The door finally, finally opened. Kirishima looked up from his work as Asami strolled past, carrying a snoring figure bundled up in his suit jacket up to the penthouse. His careful handling of his cargo was in sharp contrast with the ice in his voice.
"Have the limo ready in ten. Suoh will stay with Akihito."
"Yes, sir."
