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— Intentions —
16# - Dirty Practices
"If things go wrong, don't go with them."
― R. Babson
―
— A. Misaki
"State your name," an unruly voice demanded.
The rustic smell of the timbered floor filling the air, I could hear the heavy but calculated footfalls of the prosecutor attorney thumping against the hardwood. His client calmly glanced at him before speaking with certainty, his voice husky and utterly manly. It certainly matched his dark and masculine CEO figure.
"Adrian, Adrian Solvei."
The attorney leisurely paced up to him. "Adrian," he curtly called. "When did you first met Shōichirō Yukimura?"
The man stared across the room to my client. A stare full of meaning. "Two years ago," he worded, "on Febuary, 2nd." His thick accent was making each syllabes sharp like razor edges. I knew it wouldn't feel really pleasant to be at the end of that anger, and I could relate to my client, nervously shifting in his seat behind me. I slowly edged closer, my presence soothing him a little bit.
"Where did the two of you meet?" the prosecutor carried on. The way he was pacing around rather started to tick me off, but I didn't let it show on my face, my eyes soundlessly following his prowling.
"Area 2 in the Shinjuku District." I inwardly cringed at his answer, knowing how hard this was going to be.
"Were you aware of what that spot was famous for?" A silence followed the attorney's question, before the reply came.
A short and one-word answer. "No."
I wanted to roll my eyes at the irony. Of course a worldwide CEO wouldn't take insight of every single road he travelled to. Much evidently, I skeptically thought. Even if it happened two years ago, I had done my research and knew that he still had been a renowed bachelor. And he had been wealthy and smart enough to take his father's corporation to the top within the short time-span of two years.
A knowing eyebrow-lift played on the attorney's face. "How was he dressed the day you met?"
"Waitress attire."
A nod. "I have no further questions, Your Honor," the prosecutor attorney concluded.
The room remained still, waiting for the Judge to speak. "Does the defense wish to ask any questions?"
I stood up. "Yes, Your Honor," I declared. He gave me a sign to go on.
"Mr. Solvei," I alleged. "Did you ever ask my client, Mr. Shōichirō, whether he was a male, or female?"
"No, I did not."
It would indeed be strange to ask that, being in a relationship. And I could perhaps understand why it never struck him to ask Yukimura that question. Small frame, pale skin, wide eyes. He looked soft and feminine. The kind that you would want to protect, even if he wore pants and a shirt.
"When did you have your first doubt about his gender?" I asked, stepping aside to reveal my shivering client to his hard gaze.
Their eyes met before he reverted them on me. "Five months into our relationship."
"What triggered this assumption?"
He cleared his throat before replying without shame. "When he repeatedly refused having sexual intercourse."
Ugh.
"Did he tell you the reasons why he declined them?"
He acquiesced. "He said that he didn't want to engage until marriage."
I narrowed my eyes. "Did you believe his words?"
"Not within reason."
I bit back the small smile threatening to slide off. "And yet, you didn't ask him about his gender, did you?"
His tone became less controled, and more unhinged by the seconds. "No, I didn't."
I gave him a professional nod. "Thank you, Mr. Solvei. I have no further questions."
And then came several other witnesses from the prosecutor's side. Chambermaids, domestics and even the personal driver of the charismatic heir, each one asserting how much they thought Yukimura was a woman and not a man. Few affirmations sounded extravagant and exagerated while some other were believable and perhaps genuine. Ranging from how Yukimura could cook, take care of his own laudry or even clean his room ever so neatly to him, being gentle and very polite or even... sensible.
They truly had a preconceived way of thinking.
The last chambermaid was explaining how Yukimura's skin was soft and rosy, so alike to one of a woman, before she got cut of with a pointed glare from the prosecutor.
"You may step out," the Judge dully acknowledged when she finished her tirade. "Is the defense ready with its case?"
I stood up and stepped forward. "Yes, Your Honor. I call the defendant."
"Please, state your name."
"Shōichirō Yukimura," he said unconvincingly. His voice was breathy, the tone shaky and scared as hell. I stared at him, trying to tell him to calm down and he gulped nervously, before giving me back a slight dip of the head.
"What were you doing, the day you met Mr. Solvei?"
He sat straighter, and relaxed into his chair as much as he could. "I was helping a friend with her maid café."
"Do you often dress as a girl?"
He shook his head. "I only did it once, and it was for the reason I stated earlier."
"Your name is obviously a male one, did you give Mr. Solvei your real name?"
"Yes," he anxiously affirmed. "But he shortened it to Yuki."
He answered to each of my questions, his voice getting firmer and firmer as we scrolled through the content we rehearsed. He admitted never telling Adrian that he was actually a boy, because he thought that it was a given. Said that he wasn't homosexual, but genuinely fell in love with the man he never thought he would. The way their relationship built truly was sweet and soft, despite all the drama. He even managed to make Adrian quietly choke on his own breath when he admitted that though he initially wanted to have intercourse after marriage, he also was scared because he still was a...virgin.
I gave him a small smile. "Thank you, that will be all."
The Judge curtly nodded. "Does the prosecution have any questions?"
"Yes, Your Honor," he responded almost immediately. "Sir, are you aware of Mr. Solvei's wealth?"
Yukimura confusedly blinked. "Uh, Yes, I do," he stuttered.
"And I assume that you are aware of your current financial state," the prosecutor worded.
Truly a rascal he was. I stood up. "Objection, Your Honor," I strongly voiced.
"Objection overruled," the Judge intoned before gesturing to Yukimura to answer.
I sat down, almost seething, though I remained cold outside. Very cold. I eyed the other party, now suspicious of any money going under the table. Who was I kidding? A commoner sitting against a Top 50 figure of Forbes' billionair list. I should've known earlier. Worried eyes turned to me, and I glanced back at his hazel eyes, reassuring him and nodding him to answer as we agreed on. Which was; with truth, and truth only. Because he was guilty for naught.
"Yes, I am aware," he difficultly articulated.
And then, the prosecutor started to accuse him of wanting to steal his client's wealth, forcing him into marriage by using the promise of sexual relations as a means. Murmurs started to rise in the public rows, the quiet spectators starting to argue among each others. A sea of ushered 'Whoa, that was totally rude!' and 'The prosecutor is such a jerk,' against 'That little gay minx well tried' and 'money whore' followed by snickering laughs permeated in the room.
Silently, I wished that mass murdering wasn't punished so heavily. Else, I might have indulged.
—
— U. Takumi
"You look tired," I remarked, as we were sitting in my living room, facing each others. She looked exhausted recently, her eyes slightly rimmed with a darkened hue. It didn't look so bad though, but I felt worried for her well being.
"Didn't sleep enough?" I raised my eyebrow curiously.
She yawned. "My schedule isn't so bad, I just..." she stalled, "Can't really sleep." She bitterly smiled, her non-reply striking me as a way to avoid answering.
I gave her a pointed look. And then opted for the puppy eyes approach, resting my head on the glass table as I peered up at her. Poutingly.
Glancing back at me, she softly smiled. "Nothing significant, really," she assured. "I don't want to waste our sundays with meaningless complains, come on," she nudged my head, her fingers patting my hair.
We've spent sundays together in a row for now, weeks running by as smoothly as ever. Nothing naughty went on though, as she was mostly high strung on work and Sundays to her was a ritual workaholic day. Not that I was complaining, since I thrived to spend my days with her, no matter what we would be doing.
Of course, I was still was a man, so I held my little hopes from time to time.
"I could lend you my bed," I offered with a playful grin. "I'm sure you'd sleep as sated as ever."
My double entendre didn't go deaf on her ears. She sighed, a little smile playing on her lips. "That was uncalled for, Usui."
"Right?" I chuckled. "I knew it wouldn't work."
She looked at me, her smile slighty wider. Then she shook it off.
"Anyway, lend me your PC," she demanded, her head nodding toward my laptop resting on my side of the table.
I handed it to her. "What are you working on?"
"Research on identity concealment," she said generally. She wasn't very precise about it, but I knew that her line of work couldn't divulge much more informations. "Uhh, the password, Usui," she looked up at me.
Rounding the table, I reached the keyboard from behind her. Her head lolled back on one side and rested against my shoulder, her eyes fluttering close for my virtual privacy. And yet, she smelled so good, I couldn't help but drop little kisses up her neck to her ear.
"Usui," she warned, one of her eyes inquisitively half open staring at me. "The password."
I grinned and slowly murmured against her ear, my lips grazing the sensitive rim with every syllabe.
"My hands... are quite busy," I lowly drawled, my hands following the curve of her hips, one sliding downwards as the other glided up her clothes before closing on her throat. "So you should do it..."
She swallowed, her fragile muscles working under my fingertips as her breath hitched.
Undoubtedly to word her confliction, her lips parted, but before any sound could fall away, my hand gently clamped down around her throat. I glided my index inside her mouth, pushing against her tongue. "No talking, alright?" I coaxed.
She reluctantly nodded her understanding and I prompted, "all capital letters, S-E-I..."
She entered the letters accordingly, slightly gasping when I bit down on her ear as my hand rubbed her slender stomach.
"Numbers; 9, 0," I breathed in her ear. She lightly bit down on my finger, cleverly warning me to behave.
I kept spelling. "R-E-V-O..." She typed it down, through the last letter came after a pause. My hand splayed on her rib cage, nonchalantly edging closer to the low of her chest must have momentarily caught her attention.
I grinned, the tip of my nose trailing down her nape. "Numbers, 9, 2..." I lowly whispered. "Followed by C-S-I..."
My fingers tentatively brushed the underside of her breast, feeling the thick material of her laced bra. She hissed, both with thrill and caution, her teeth sinking down harder into my index finger.
"Yes, yes," I huskily laughed, dropping a wet kiss on the low of her nape. "Lower case letter, D and the asteric sign."
My hands fell from her body as I heard my phone vibrating across the table. I swiftly crossed it, and grabbed my phone before casting a quick glance at her. She was eyeing my every moves, her cheeks flushed but her glare suspicious and somewhat heated. My eyebrow rose, and I mischievously brought my finger —damp with her saliva— to my mouth.
One suggestive lick. Thank you for the treat.
Her eyes widened. "Y... you... didn't just..."
Chuckling, I scurried away, picking up the call and left her there, utterly shocked.
—
Author's note:
I don't know if you guys are on holidays or not, but I hope you will be able to follow my updates!
Soz for the wait, Next chapter is almost done c: !