Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Note: I'm not really sure how the idea for this chapter popped into my head, but I'm pretty sure a little lemony goodness is overdue for everyone. Plus, I really need to practice writing some of the dirty stuff Akihito and Asami do. Because we all know how naughty they are…And just to clarify, Akihito had always been nineteen in the story, even if it sounded like he was a little boy in the beginning. The reason why is because Asami always viewed him as so, being all innocent and whatnot. Plus Akihito had always acted younger than his age. And finally I know that I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but once again, thanks a lot for reading. For those who commented, just know that they were very helpful and motivational to me.

Akihito promised.

So he was going to do it.

He just needed to prep himself for it.

A lot.

Oh my god, he didn't know if he could do it.

Gulp.

But it was too late to back out now.

Pop.

Akihito took in a deep breath, lungs inflated, and then exhaled in one long rush out his mouth.

Ziiiiiiiiip.

He closed his eyes and reached a hand out hesitantly…

"I'm waiting, Akihito."

Akihito blinked and opened his eyes. Then he flushed.

The older man's tone was warm, amusement dancing in his eyes. There was no impatience, no lines around the edges. The hand in Akihito's hair was gentle and soothing, as if trying to nonverbally urge him on.

"You've only managed to unzip my pants in the ten minutes this has started," Asami commented, serenely sitting on the love seat with his hands relaxed at his sides. His tie was gone, and his usually pristine white dress shirt had several buttons undone, rumpled from the day's work. He looked a little worn out, but satisfied that the day was going to end well. If Akihito didn't know any better, he could have sworn that there was an indulgent look on that forever smug face of his. The man appeared to have no qualms about sitting there with his fly open.

Of course not, Akihito internally muttered to himself.

The guy had paid for it. Paid Akihito to wedge in between Asami's legs, to open up those expensive slacks of his. Paid by sending him to school. Talk about earning your keep. But when the man had asked for something in return, Akihito couldn't bring himself to say no. He had been so happy at the news. And it was the first time he had felt that way since he came to stay with Asami. So what if the man wanted something from him as a sign of gratitude? Since Asami had given him something, he considered that a little give and take was the only thing left to do. The word yes was right at the tip of his tongue, just waiting to leap, so he automatically blurted it out when the man had asked for a blowjob.

Akihito had never regretted anything as much as he regretted those three letters.

He had never been given a blowjob or a hand job of any kind before. He had never really been into sex or masturbating, but like every teenage boy, had thought of it once in a while either because situations came up or an urge took over. But he had never pursued it beyond conjuring it in his mind. Nevertheless, when Asami came into his life, Akihito was hit by a whirlwind of conflicting desires. He felt sexual pleasure for the first time by someone else other than himself and by something else that was not his own hand. However, it was an unwelcomed pleasure. He didn't want it. At least, not that way.

He had only been kneeling for ten minutes, but his knees were starting to wobble a bit already. And he hadn't gotten anything done. His hand, which had been dangling in the air, dropped down to his lap, and he glared up at Asami.

"I've never done this before," he defended himself. "I have no idea what to do here, so cut me some slack."

"That's alright," the man chuckled, his good mood not deterred by Akihito's almost-sulking-like behavior. "I'll give you some help, tell you just the way I want it," came a sultry purr.

Akihito felt a little green.

"Reach inside and take it out," Asami instructed.

As if Akihito's right hand had a mind of its own, it reached out, and unlike wavering as he had before, he tentatively slid in Asami's black skin-tight boxer briefs. His mind hurled. It was hot in there, dry but Akihito's clammy skin made it feel damp.

It felt so different. It was always Asami who initiated it. Asami had always been the one to touch him. It had never occurred to Akihito's mind that the situation could have happened in the reverse. He never once thought about touching the older man. About having Asami's cock in his hand.

Akihito could tell that the man wasn't fully erected yet. The skin wasn't as taunt, and Asami's penis didn't curl upward on his stomach when it sprang free from the confines of the boxer briefs. Instead, it slightly coiled up, midway from being stiff as a rod. But it definitely felt like something was burning in his hands, and Akihito stared half in fascination and half in aghast at the sheer size of him.

Had he really taken this in his ass?

Not just once, but every night?

He really didn't want to look at it, but he couldn't look away.

And he was going to put this thing in his mouth?

"Now slide out your tongue." Asami's voice whispered over his mind. Akihito slid out his tongue.

"Good boy." A stroke on the nape of his neck. It made him jump. "Slide it over the head, slowly, as if you were tasting it. Imagine eating a lollipop."

Akihito swiped his tongue over the now fully erect head. He tasted the saltiness of it, the smooth roundness of the expanded foreskin. And he kept on tasting it. The tip of his tongue slid over Asami's pee hole, and zeroed in on it, as if he was going to delve inside. His lips automatically planted themselves on the base of the head, and popped it into his mouth, sucking. Hard.

There was a groan overhead. And then a slight jerk to Asami's hips. Akihito looked up into hooded eyes, glazed over by lust. The light expression that Asami had worn was now gone, replaced by a sudden primal stare that looked menacing for all the right reasons.

Akihito slid his mouth from Asami's cock to ask him if he was okay when another groan was heard. And then a growl. "Put your mouth back where it belongs."

…

Asami-sama had been in a frightfully bad mood that day. All of his employees were wary in his presence, high on their toes whenever he turned his gaze in their direction. No one knew what had caused it, but they didn't want to find out. The vein popping out of his temple as he fired three workers told the curious onlookers to keep their mouths shut.

Suoh was curious himself. But unlike the others, it looked like he was going to find out.

It was in the middle of the day, and his boss had already had a tumbler in hand while overlooking the files for a contract that they were settling later that night. The agitation on the boss' face didn't seem like it would bode too well for the client. Although the sun was already high in the sky, the shades were drawn and the heavy curtains were tightly closed from its rays. It made Asami's office appear dark and shadowy, ominous compared to the bright world outside. It perfectly matched the man's mood.

Kirishima had been running over the books, informing him about the latest weapons shipment that had been delayed. As he was talking, he slid his eyes from the paper in the file to look sideways at Suoh, catching his attention. The look said that Asami would be cracking very soon.

It happened when Asami closed the folder he had been reading and piled it on top of the completed stack. And then he sighed. It sounded more like a snarl, and made the secretary and the head of security share another look.

Asami completely drained the rest of his glass in one gulp, twirled the remaining ice in his hand several times, and then set it down in front of him. He took out a dunhill, and lit one. The smoke wafted into the room and made its home among the dark shadows, swirling like a reaching hand. "The fucking brat is getting difficult," he snarled out, a puff of cloud smoke trailing from his mouth as if he were a live dragon.

"Daring to pull that stunt yesterday. Running off in the middle…" Asami crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray before lighting up another.

"What would you like me to do?" Suoh asked. No doubt there was trouble in paradise.

A cloud of smoke was the only reply he got.

…

There were many reasons why Akihito knew that Asami was a cruel man. He didn't regard anyone as his equal. He didn't think of them as anything. And that was the way he treated Akihito when they used to have sex.

Every night the man would be rough and uncompromising, turning a blind ear to his cries of pain and pleas to stop. And the bruises that painted their way onto Akihito's skin would be dug there by the man's fingers to hold him in place. The blood, rust colored spots that made themselves known on the sheets in the morning, gradually got lighter and lighter as the days went by because Akihito's body got used to the abuse.

My god, he was reliving it all over again when Asami said those words.

And what he hated most when Asami raped him were the things the man said when he appeared half crazed. "You're mine," Asami would rage out when Akihito would try to squirm away. "Little slut is begging for it," when Akihito's cries of agony became mistaken for pleasure. "Look at that, right to the hilt. Greedy little thing you are. Always wanting it, wanting me to fuck you, squeezing so tight around my dick, wanting me to spill inside of that tight hole of yours. Well, here it comes." And the worst line: Nothing, nothing at all. He didn't spare a word for the marks he left on Akihito's body.

Akihito had always felt humiliated. Like he wasn't even human. Less than an animal.

And it was exactly the way he felt when Asami had ordered him to continue sucking on his dick. Like he was some cheap whore. No worse than that, like he had no other reason for living than to do what Asami had told him to.

And once more, he found himself slamming the door to his room, locking it tight. The look of bewilderment on Asami's face when he ran made it worse. The man had absolutely no idea what he had done wrong.