Hello, everyone! I hope you are all well.

First of all, my endless thank you to Cairlit07, finderlov, Ninetampax, Capricorn989, Minak0003, Elizabeth Melende, and everyone else who took the time to leave comments/review/inputs. You guys are awesome.

A few people had mentioned that they need a breather from the heavy chapters. Honestly, I am a little tired too trying to keep pushing the story forward. :D So, I hope it's okay with you guys if we take a little detour on some other sides of Akihito and Asami's life for the next few chapters.

Any questions will be answered at the end of this chapters. Enjoy!

Warning: Lemons. Grammatical error.

Disclaimer: VF belongs to YA.

Chapter 20. How To Be Relatable

Reiko-san threw me an apologetic look whenever our eyes met each other. Every time, I just shrugged. A job was a job, after all. I just needed to get it done and that'd be all.

It was late Saturday afternoon and I wasn't supposed to be the photographer assigned for this interview. But, shit happened and here I was, getting my equipment ready and pulling my poor assistant away from her date because, well, misery just loved company. Plus, her boyfriend was a cheater. Okay, fine, I knew it wasn't an excuse. So, yes, I could be an asshole of a boss sometimes. Sue me.

Makoto-chan, however, took it in a stride. She had worked with me for almost two years by now and she was growing fast. I was lucky to have her in my team. She was talented and easy to work with. It'd be a real blow when the time came for her to be independent. But, it was inevitable. That was just the nature of my line of work.

In the background, I could see Reiko-san shooting instructions with the tenacity of a drill sergeant. People literally jumped to follow her order to the last dot. As the creative director of a popular lifestyle magazine, Yamada Reiko could be brutal when someone was doing anything but their best. I had witnessed her shredding slacking models or under-performing journalists with mere words. No one wanted to be on her bad side. And especially, not today. Not with such an important interview.

Today's interview was for a series of articles covering 3 most successful Japanese entrepreneurs who had started their business from nothing. The interviewee today was a mature gentleman who had built his company from literally zero into the multi-national organisation that it was today. No one could reach this level of affluence without skills, perseverance, and sacrifices. Fuck, give me a hundred million yen and I still wouldn't be able to grow it into anything close to his wealth.

The journalist who would lead the interview was Reiko-san's colleague, Hana Ashley. She was becoming a minor celebrity in Japan after her return from the US. Honestly, I didn't think she had what it took to be a journalist. Her writings always felt empty to me, full of flowery words but without real content. There was times when she failed to be objective on the topic she focused on, leaning aggressively towards one side without really listening to other perspectives. And there was also rumours that she slept her way to the top but, let's not even go there.

After ensuring that all was under control, Reiko-san instructed the team to follow Ashley's lead. Then she left us for another interview she needed to manage. I cringed quietly. Reiko-san was usually the one who kept everyone in line. Without her, Ashley would surely have a little power trip.

Well, all the scheduling related to this interview had been messy from the beginning. And that was all because the gentleman had only agreed to the interview at the very last minute. That was why everyone, including me and Makoto-chan, had been running around like a bunch of headless chickens trying to make this shit happen. Such was the whim of the rich and powerful!

But, again, a job was a job. Or so I reminded myself.

Ashley was now getting ready on the chair opposite of the leather arm chair that the gentleman was supposed to sit in. One of the technicians was fixing the mic attached to her clothes. She was dressed in a soft pink top that showed off her ample bosom and a tight black skirt that emphasised her hour-glass figure. My nasty side wanted to crack a mean joke about 'jumping' the interviewee, but my professional side told me to be a team player.

There was a change in the atmosphere when the gentleman finally arrived. It was as if everyone suddenly held their breath as they watched him walking to his seat. He was wearing a well-tailored business suit that —after years of my own experience with my husband's wardrobe— was clearly bespoke. The cut accentuated his broad shoulders and sturdy built in a way mass-produced clothes could ever do.

I had to admit that he was good-looking. There was an authoritative aura about him that made him look larger than life. Like watching a tiger entering the room you were in and you suddenly realised that the spacious area didn't really give you much leeway to hide yourself, moreover to escape. It wasn't about his physique, per se. Although, from the way his clothes hugged his body, everyone could see that he was ripped. It was more in the way he held himself. This was a man who knew his worth and he clearly didn't bother to humble himself in front of anyone. I could imagine how the rich ladies and posh housewives might wet themselves reading the stories about his private life.

To me, he just looked like an arrogant asshole though.

He shook Ashley's hand and sat. His eyes swept through everyone the room before our eyes caught each other briefly. His piercing gaze made me feel a little nervous for a little while, as if I was back to the time when I was merely a junior photographer who was just starting his career. But then, without a word, he turned back to Ashley and nodded, indicating that he was ready to start.

Ashley introduced herself and began with some basic questions. His smooth baritone voice quickly became a background noise as I took his pictures from various angles. Soon, they moved into more serious topics.

His business and future goals: "I'd like to make a better world for our next generations."

His past and his struggles: "Oh, there's nothing special. I am just like everyone else, a hard-working man trying to make a life for himself."

Even his thought about some social issues: "I think our government has done their best, although there are still rooms for improvement."

Seriously? All those answers sounded so shallow. As if the man was reading a script someone else had written for him. It didn't sound real to my ears. Those were just politically correct answers, some nice statements he knew he had to say to charm his audience. His smile didn't even reach his eyes. He nodded but he didn't really listen to the questions. This interview was just another inconvenience task he needed to tick in his checklist. A necessary evil to project a certain image to the public. He clearly didn't believe any words he said and it annoyed me to no end.

If I was Ashley, I would have cornered him. I would push him to give me a real answer. I would ask questions that forced him to reveal his real thoughts, removing his armour, layer by fucking layer if necessary, to reach the truth inside. Wasn't that the job of a journalist?

Okay, stop it. I was just here to take his photos. Which, hopefully, would be enough to sell his profile to the readers. His photos, I meant. Not me being here.

Besides, there was no point getting worked up over this interview. Ashley herself didn't seem to care. She was too busy flirting with the gentleman to even think about doing her job properly. That was already the fifth time she caressed her cleavage, trying to attract his attention to her perfect round breasts, thanks to the wonder of plastic surgery. Oh fuck, she did it again. Didn't she know that the trick get old very quickly?

At one point, thankfully, the man's smartphone rang. He looked almost sheepish as he gestured with his fingers to check with Ashley whether it would be fine if he answered the call.

"Sorry, this one is important," he said.

Really? In the middle of an interview? So rude.

But, determined to charm the gentleman, Ashley just threw him her sweetest, most understanding smile. For the seventh time —yes, Makoto-chan and I kept a bet of how many times she would do it today— her fingers caressed her cleavage in a way that she might have thought enticing. It did not.

"Of course. Take your time."

The man left the room to take his important call and I could literally hear everyone started to breath again. As if they had been too afraid to simply exist up until then. Even I took this unexpected break as an opportunity to check my phone.

A minute later, there was a message from Asami: Dinner date later?

I quickly typed: Maybe. If this stupid interview finishes on time. I still need to stop by at my studio.

The reply came fast: Want me to rescue you?

I wrote back: Fuck you, I can rescue myself, thank you very much. 凸(｀△´＋）

I bit my lips, instantly wondering if I was a little too harsh. I didn't want to sound too whiny about my job. So, I added: Sorry. Just a tough day. This pompous businessman really annoys me. Is all businessman like that?

For a few seconds, there was only a spinner under my last message, indicating that my husband was still typing. Then: Like what?

I frowned, trying to succinctly describe how I felt when I heard those insincere answers. I settled with: Like, so fake.

Immediately, I regretted that reply but it was too late. I could imagine him smirking at my naivety. As expected, he answered: Everyone is fake, Akihito.

And right after that, he continued: Do I know him? Why don't you describe him?

I rolled my eyes. Wherever my husband was at that moment, he was clearly bored. Otherwise, he wouldn't bother to do such a stupid game. I messaged him: Well. Overbearing. Full of himself. A little vain. Sounds familiar?

Knowing him fully well, I felt like I could hear him laughing. He said: That's literally almost every business person I know. You have to be more specific.

I sighed: I signed an NDA, asshole. I can't say his name. Well, it's for "3 Most Successful Japanese Entrepreneurs Who Started From Nothing", if that means anything to you.

For almost a minute, Asami didn't reply. I thought he was back to whatever it was he was doing before he started messaging me. I closed the messaging apps, a little disappointed that he couldn't spare me more of his time, and put my phone on a nearby table. But then, my phone vibrated again, in a very loudly manner, nearly pushing it off the edge of the table.

Asami's message was popping up as a push notification on the lock screen: Well, that narrows it down a lot. There's only 1 man I knew that fit that criteria because the other two in that list are women.

Oh. I actually didn't know that. Reiko-san didn't give me the full list of her interviewees. The other two interviewees were handled by different photographers after all. Knowing how our society used to look down on hard-working women, this knowledge actually cheered me up. It was time we gave more appreciation to our female business leaders.

But, Ashley's voice quickly ended my inner celebration, "Takaba-san, could you please stop texting? It's really unprofessional."

I glared at her. And do you think exposing your breasts to your interviewee is professional?

Besides, we were literally on a break since the interviewee had stepped out of the room. Plus, I was not the only one using this impromptu break to check the phone. Well, Ashley had never liked me, so her picking on me was not surprising. To be fair, the feeling was mutual.

Feeling rebellious, I quickly unlocked my phone and typed my answer without looking much at it: BTW, doyou like big breast?

The single word Asami gave me encompassed all his confusion: What?

Trying to be as quiet and as unnoticeable as possible, I replied: I meant, when you were with women. Before me. Did you prefer women with big round breasts?

His reply was lightning speed this time: Before you, there were only nameless fucks, Akihito. I can't even remember their names, moreover how they look like.

Coming from any other men, I might have found the statement a bit too cocky. But, coming from Asami, that somehow sounded…sweet, actually. In a perverse way, but still. The idiotic grin on my face appeared before I could even think to school my expression.

Then, he added: Although, if you are really curious, you should ask Kirishima. I think he kept detailed specs of each of my past partners.

I typed quickly with a disgusted scowl on my face. He knows your bed partners' body sizes?! God, that was fucking creepy! Why did he even do tht?! Wait, do I even want to knw the answer?!

The explanation came right away: He needed it to buy them gifts on my behalf. Get your mind out of the gutter, Akihito.

As simple as that reply was, it actually stunned me for a brief second. Fuck, did that mean—

But, before I could even finish the thought, he added: And no. I bought all my gifts for you myself.

Quietly, I sighed with relief. Considering the obscenity of most of Asami's gifts, I was glad Kirishima had nothing to do with it. Otherwise, there would be no way I could face the secretary with a straight face anymore.

There was a commotion when the gentleman finally returned to the room. Everyone was suddenly standing straight, as if they were soldiers waiting for inspection. Ashley even stood up and started fussing over the man's tie or whatever dust she found on his shoulder as he took his seat back.

The technician told him, "We'll do a quick sound check first to make sure the input for the recording is still as clear as before. It may take a few minutes."

The man just nodded, letting the team to do whatever they needed to do.

Thinking that the break was over, I was about to put my phone back into my jeans pocket when it vibrated in my hand. Curious, I took a quick peek.

There were 2 new messages from Asami:

- BTW, do you like a big cock?

- I heard the guy you are interviewing has quite a sizeable one.

The statement triggered an instinctive human reaction. Now, I couldn't stop myself from taking a glance at the man's groin. The man was sitting casually with his leg crossed, an ankle on one knee, playing with his phone almost absent-mindedly while waiting for the technician to give a good-to-go signal. Meanwhile, I literally gawked at the place between his legs like a fucking pervert.

Honestly, his pants didn't reveal much. From where I stood, I wouldn't be able to make a guess how big his cock was even if my life depended on it.

Still, just to annoy Asami, I replied: Nah. Looks average at most.

Then, with a grin, I slipped the phone into my back pocket. Time to get back to work.

Nearing the end of the interview, Ashley finally said, almost begrudgingly, "So, I heard that you just got married. Congratulations! I am sure many of our readers will be heartbroken to hear that Japan's most eligible bachelor is no longer available."

The man laughed. "I'm not sure I can still be considered an eligible bachelor at my age. Anyway, our wedding ceremony was many years back, actually. We just decided to announce it now."

"Any reason why you delay the announcement?"

Easing himself further into his seat, he started to explain, "Initially, we just wanted to keep it private. Along the way, we realised that many people are still not accepting same-sex relationships. So, we believe that it's important for us to be the voice of—"

From behind Ashley, I aimed my viewfinder, ready to take another shot of this liar's face in the middle of his politically-correct speech once again. But, he paused for a breath, our eyes met for the second time by accident, and then, his expression changed.

His easy smile quickly turned into a teasing smirk as he said candidly, "Well, truthfully, Ashley-san, keeping it private has become a little annoying and troublesome. It is way more fun to be able to be open about our relationship. Although, I think, my husband began to regret agreeing to this idea."

Ashley's awkward laugh told me that this answer wasn't aligned with the script that had been discussed beforehand. She flipped through her notes, trying to find a smart response to that unexpectedly honest explanation. But, being caught off-guard, she ended up with a nervous cough and a weak enquiry instead, "So, how does it feel to be a partner of someone as successful as you?"

I lowered my camera and shook my head. How does it feel to be a partner of someone like him? Why would she even ask him that question? That's not even his to answer! What, was the partner chopped liver? Why did she even think that this man had the right to speak on his partner's behalf?

The man apparently shared the same sentiment, because he replied with a frown, "I wouldn't know. That, you will need to ask my husband."

Now, Ashley was clearly on edge. Shifting her weight on her seat, she nodded with a forced smile and —most likely, worried that she might end their conversation in a sour note—she quickly closed the interview, "You are right. Well, I think that's all for today. Thank you s—"

But, the man cut her off, "You misunderstand me, Ashley-san. I wasn't being sarcastic. I really meant it. If you want to know what my husband thinks, why don't you ask him yourself?"

Then.

To my eternal horror.

That man —who, of course, was my asshole of a husband, Asami Ryuichi— tilted his head towards me in the universal gesture of 'there's the person you are looking for'.

Everyone —and when I said everyone I truly meant every fucking person in the room, including my clueless assistant, Makoto-chan— turned towards the general direction where I was standing, suddenly putting me in the fucking spotlight.

Ashley sounded utterly confused when she said, "Uh, I am sorry, Asami-sama. I am not sure—"

She turned around to look at my direction, and finding no one but me, she looked back at Asami and asked, "—uh, what do you mean? My apologies but you lost me now."

Everyone quickly turned back toward Asami, waiting for his explanation.

He threw us one of his infamous smirk, "You want to know what my husband thinks about our relationship. Well, since my husband is here, I thought you'd like to ask him directly."

"Your husband? Do you mean Asami-san is here?"

Asami was looking annoyingly amused when he answered, "Yes, he is here. Right behind you."

And everyone turned back at me —like they were watching a fucking tennis tournament and now the ball was on my side.

Me, on the other hand, could only freeze there like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Eyes widened in terror. Lips tightened into a thin line. Lungs stopped taking in air. My entire body anticipated to be hit by a moving vehicle at any second, because becoming a hit-and-run victim would be a mercy compared to accepting the fact that all my colleagues now knew who my 'partner' actually was. Just because many had known that I was in a same-gender relationship didn't mean that I wanted them to know that my husband was a domineering jerk who was richer than the prime minister himself.

To my amazement, even with such a blatant declaration, Ashley still didn't get it. She gave Asami a pitying look instead, as if my husband had gone crazy.

"There's no one else behind me aside from our photographer, Takaba-san," she said gently, like she would be willing to let Asami rest his head on her ample bosom to clear his apparently cloudy mind.

Everyone turned back toward Asami. Seriously, I was surprised no one had hurt their neck yet from turning their head back and forth like that.

Those golden eyes were full of amusement when he drawled, "Who is also my husband, Ashley-san. Akihito is using his family surname for work, although by now, legally, his name is Asami Akihito."

I could literally see many dropped jaws. Makoto-chan was looking at me like I wasn't his boss anymore. As if I had just declared that I was actually an alien who would sneaked into her brain and eat her from the inside. For a few minutes, there was only silence in the room. Total and complete silence. Everyone was too stunned to react.

I closed my eyes and massaged my forehead to stop the impending headache. This was nightmare.

When Ashley didn't say anything else —perhaps utterly dumbfounded that a man like Asami would even glance at a nobody like me— Asami stood and said, "Well, if you're sure that you have no more question, Ashley-san, I'd like to excuse myself. But, please, feel free to use this meeting room for as long as you or your team needs it."

He then buttoned his suit jacket and casually asked, "Since we finish on time as you requested, Akihito, I'll pick you up at your studio…say, at 7PM?"

By then, there was no point trying to deny who Asami was to me. So, I just threw him my deadliest glare and answered flatly, "Make it 7.30. I still have work to do."

With an exasperating smirk, the bastard nodded and left.

Like a tornado that simply vanished into thin air after it was done annihilating everything that stood in its way.

Asami found the door to Akihito's studio locked and his husband didn't answer his phone call. But, since he owned the entire building, the manager was very eager to accommodate his every request, including to open the door for him.

"Akihito," Asami called loudly as he entered the studio.

No one answered him.

The spacious studio was located on the top floor of a 5 storeys commercial building in the middle of the so-called 'hipster' district. It was a well known rule: if one wanted to start a business in the creative industry, this would be the best place to do it. Understandably, the rental here was expensive and most artists wouldn't be able to afford it on their own.

Back when Akihito had started the journey of building his own brand, the younger man had complained endlessly about the cost of renting a workspace in this district, declaring that he couldn't be so frivolous with their meal expenses anymore in order to save for the deposit alone. After enduring the tightening of Akihito's grocery budget for almost a whole week, Asami had decided that enough was enough. He wouldn't tolerate those cheap frozen meats or the non-organic vegetables any longer, no matter how much Akihito had insisted that they all tasted the same. He could respect Akihito's wish to at least take care of their food expenses, but surely there was a bare minimum standard they all could adhere to. So, with a single phone call, Kirishima had come thirty minutes later to give Akihito the key to Akihito's brand new studio along with Asami's ultimatum to return their meals to its usual quality.

Of course, Akihito being Akihito, the man had perceived the simple gesture as an insult to his independence. Something Asami could never understand. If a problem could be solved simply by throwing in some money, why would Akihito prefer to suffer instead? To Asami, that didn't sound very logical.

Thankfully, Akihito's protests had quickly died down the moment he had seen the place for the first time. The man turned absolutely quiet as he stepped into the charming studio with its beautiful wooden floor and striking high ceiling. Streams of natural light came in through the large windows covering one side of the wall. The decoration was cozy, but it still allowed a good space for Akihito's photography equipments. The place was even equipped with a small side room that could be turned into a private changing area, a pantry, a luxurious bathroom, and a big enclosed storage that would be perfect for an old-school darkroom. It was definitely a far cry from the dingy studio that Akihito had aimed for initially.

For Asami, this studio had merely been a convenient solution. But for Akihito, it had been love at first sight. And so, after squeezing a promise from Asami that this would be the last intervention Asami would ever do to help Akihito's business, his younger husband had graciously accepted the studio with a beaming face. The rare gratitude he had seen in those hazel eyes had made him wanting to shower Akihito with even more extravagance gifts. Thankfully, his rational-self had reminded him not to tempt fate any further. So, Asami had taken the win and left Akihito's business alone since then.

"Akihito?" Asami repeated louder as he knocked on the bathroom door, in case Akihito was in there.

Still no response.

The fact that all the lightings were still on indicated that Akihito hadn't left the studio yet. His frugal husband wouldn't leave the place without turning off the light. So, Akihito must be in here somewhere.

Asami began to feel uneasy. For a brief second, he was considering whether to call Suoh to come inside. Just in case. Since the knowledge of Asami carrying a gun always made his innocent husband skittish, Asami had left his Glock in the hidden compartment in his car. But if Akihito's safety was at risk, he would prefer to have a weapon in hand. Better safe than sorry, after all.

His right hand were holding the door handle of the storage room —now Akihito's darkroom— ready to turn it, when the door was suddenly open. Akihito's face looked flushed as he stepped out before quickly closing the door behind him.

"Ryu." Akihito blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the brightness outside before continuing, sounded distracted, "You are here."

"I am here," Asami repeated with a sigh. It wasn't hard to guess why Akihito had been unreachable.

"What time is it?" Akihito predictably asked. "Surely it's not 7.30PM yet."

Asami shrugged. Akihito always complained about Asami being a workaholic, but his younger husband could be just as passionate about work at times. Pointing that out wouldn't help Asami winning brownie points with his husband though.

"It's almost 8PM," he answered simply.

His husband blinked again. "Oh. Shoot. I am so sorry, Ryu. I didn't notice the time and I didn't check my phone."

"Are you not done yet?" Asami asked when Akihito glanced over his shoulder as if the man was mourning over the fact that he needed to stop whatever work he had been doing.

Akihito let out a resigned sigh. "I was processing your photos from this afternoon but I can continue on Monday. Besides, the magazine only accepts digital version these days, so these old-school prints are just for my personal collection."

His grin was inevitable. "Your personal collection, huh? I didn't know you have a collection of my photos."

Akihito scoffed. "Yeah, asshole. To remind me how you look like when you are lying through your teeth. Who told you that those bullshits were good answers? You sounded like a politician hoping to win a fucking election."

He laughed. He didn't care much how people saw him anyway. "Tell that to Kirishima."

"Ugh, I knew it was him! It did sound like him talking in your freaking voice!"

"What, do you think you can write a better script for me, Akihito?" he teased as he stepped closer to his husband, hoping to steal a kiss.

"Just to be clear," his husband rolled his eyes before continuing, "it'll be hard to write a worse script that the one you recited to Ashley today."

Asami pulled his husband into a deep passionate kiss then —shutting up the younger man for a full minute— before leaning down to bury his face in Akihito's neck. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath full of that familiar scent which always made him think of home. Gods, he had wanted to do this since the interview this afternoon. Nothing turned him on faster than watching Akihito in that focus-mode at work.

Akihito only took a little pause after the kiss before carrying on with his prattling. "People don't believe in such goody-goody answers anymore, you know? Nobody is perfect after all. They want someone relatable: an authentic person with genuine emotions and real struggles."

"Hmm, and why should I even care about this again?" he murmured indulgently in a non-committal tone. "I thought I am not going for an election?"

"Because I just can't stand the idea of you repeating those shitty answers for another interview! Surely it's against the law?!"

Asami always enjoyed Akihito's attention, even if it was directed at a public image he couldn't care about. So, usually, he would listen just to pamper his idealistic husband. But, at that moment, his mind only had a single agenda: to fuck Akihito as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for him, his husband was already firing on all cylinders. "Oh, I know! How about we do a little practice? Let's do another interview and see how relatable you can be if only you open up about your real self."

Without waiting for his answer, Akihito dragged him across the room then pushing him to sit on a rectangular stool in the middle of his photo set. Asami watched as Akihito changed the background to plain white, set up the light stands, and assembled the photography equipments. He sighed. Apparently, his cock would need to wait a little longer.

Akihito's voice sounded different —still warm, and yet, calmer and more professional— when the man asked conversationally, "It's good to have you here, Asami-sama. I have been waiting for the chance to interview you for a while."

Oh, was this a role-play? He smiled as his cock started to take a renewed interest at the way Akihito called his name.

"The pleasure is all mine, Takaba-san," he answered casually, easily falling into his role.

Akihito returned his suggestive smile with a more professional one. "Now, I hope you don't mind me taking a few pictures during this interview. As you can see, I don't have my team with me, but I believe this private setting will help you be more comfortable to reveal a little more about yourself."

He cocked a brow in a suggestive way, "All you need to do is just to ask, Takaba-san, and I'll reveal every part of me to you."

The answer to his salacious offer was an annoyed glare. He chuckled at the black look on his husband's face.

Click.

The sound of his photo being captured caught him off-guard. He hadn't expected Akihito to take this fake interview so seriously. Well, two could play this little game.

"Mind if I make myself more comfortable?" he gestured to his formal clothes.

Akihito rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Asami was suggesting. But at the end, the younger man simply shook his head and grumbled. "Sure. Why not? Maybe it will help you be more open about yourself."

Slowly, because he wanted to make it a show in front of his husband, Asami took off his suit jacket, revealing the crisp business shirt underneath that hugged his tight muscles perfectly like a second layer of skin. He let the expensive cloth fell carelessly to the floor like it was just an old washcloth.

Click. Click.

"You are one of only a handful of self-made Japanese billionaires, Asami-sama. As of today, you amassed a more than $100 billion fortune running your import and export business along with your various commercial establishments across the world. Many have covered the story about how you started building Sion Group from literally nothing in less than a decade. So, I won't talk much about that. Tonight, I'd like you to discuss more on your motivation and how it has influenced you as a person."

Staring directly at Akihito's camera lens, Asami unravelled his tie knot, letting the silk fabric to join his suit jacket on the floor. "Of course, Takaba-san. Anything you want."

Click.

"Is there anything or any person that has helped you get where you are today?"

For a second, his fingers stilled from unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. His first instinct —born from memorising the usual script Kirishima had prepared to keep his past and private life vague— was to simply answer that it was all due to "his hard work and tenacity". But, Akihito lowered his camera then and Asami stopped himself from reciting the familiar answer. Those hazel eyes had such intensity he hadn't seen directed at him for a while. An obsessive look that reminded him of when Akihito had tried to catch Asami red-handed back at the beginning of their journey together. The gaze was so sharp like the younger man could look past Asami's hardened mask into his very soul —if a man like Asami could even have a soul.

"It's okay," Akihito whispered softly, as if he was trying to calm a little child. "There's no one else here. Just us. You know you can trust me."

And Asami did know he could trust the man in front of him. Fuck, there was no one else he could trust more than Akihito on this earth.

"There are many," he heard himself answering before his brain could tell him otherwise. "Without them, I wouldn't be the person I am today. But among all of them, there is one person who has influenced me more than anyone else in my life."

Click.

Continuing to unbutton the top of his shirt, he added without missing a beat, "My husband."

Akihito froze like he didn't expect that particular answer at all. His eyes widened as his camera was forgotten for a while. Those lips parted slightly in surprise. Asami smirked at his husband's honest reaction. What, did Akihito really expect Asami to suddenly tell him everything about the time when he had worked for Kaito Tsuji? Or about any of his shady business associates? Seriously.

Well, Akihito wanted honesty. This was a complete and full honesty.

"You see, he is different from anyone I have ever known," Asami added as he began to roll his sleeves, purposely showing off his toned forearms, his gaze never straying from where Akihito was standing.

He could literally see Akihito swallowing quietly before the younger man took his camera back to its previous position, ready once again to capture Asami's every expression.

Click.

"Different how?"

Click.

Tilting his head slightly, Asami gave the question a serious thought before answering, "My short answer will be…he is everything that I am not."

This time, it was Akihito who laughed. Not bitterly, no. More like a teasing. "Everything that you are not? So, are you saying, Asami-sama, that your husband is financially poor and not sexy at all? Is that it?"

"Oh, so you do think I am sexy, Takaba-san," Asami purred, pleased at the thought that even after decades together, his husband still found him attractive. "And no, that's not what I meant. What I was trying to say is that…well, he is literally my better half. I am sure this is not news to you, Takaba-san, that I—"

He paused, searching for words. For a while, there was only silence —comfortable silence— as Asami navigated a way to express his deepest thought and Akihito took shot after shot of his profile.

Then, Asami looked back up, staring straight at that damn camera lens, and admitted firmly, "—I am not a good man, Takaba-san. At times, I am violent and cruel. I can be generous, but only to those who can benefit me. I don't really connect with other people, not like how regular people seem to do. I don't feel empathy or guilt, even as I ruin someone's life. I care only about myself, my needs, and my goals. And even after all that, I don't regret anything. I won't lie to you and say that I would do things differently if only I could get another chance. No, without a doubt I would do what I had done all over again. Perhaps I would even be more cut-throat, now that I know what I didn't know before."

His words were harsh and ruthless but, for once, it was the complete fucking truth. He didn't even try to soften his cold eyes or his icy tone. If Akihito wanted to see a glimpse of the savage monster Asami had hidden behind layers and layers of feigned humanity, then Asami would give him that. If there was one person in his life who deserved to see it, it was Akihito.

Asami could hear the camera kept clicking even as Akihito moved to capture his photos from different angles. He ignored it, focusing on arranging his thought into verbal sentences instead.

"But, my husband— it's like he sees something in me that I can't even see myself. Like he believes I have something more to give. Something I didn't even know I am capable of."

The answering voice came from somewhere to his left, "What is it?"

Asami closed his eyes and smiled a little at the thought. He said, "He believes I can love someone else."

"And…can you?"

He let out an amused sound, half-laugh and half-sigh. "Define love, Takaba-san."

When there's no reply, he continued, "Everyone seems to have different interpretation of it. I don't know whether I actually can love another person. What I know is that I have never felt what I feel for him with any other person. The moment I saw him, I knew he belongs to me. I want to protect him. I care for him. I want to make him happy. I will give him the world just to see him smile."

Akihito commented lightly, "I feel a 'but' is coming."

Asami opened his eyes then, staring ahead into the empty space in front of him. His voice sounded raw when he admitted, "But, sometimes, I want to hurt him too. I love it when I can break his stubbornness and make him submit. When he disobey me or not listening to me, I want nothing more than to chain him to our bed and lock him in our room forever. Imagining how he'll need to feed from my own hands or how he'll only feel my touch for the rest of his life, that fucking turns me on. I swear I will destroy anyone who tried to steal him from me. Gods, I will skin them alive and force them to fucking eat their own flesh. Oh, if he knows what I actually want to do to him, he will surely run for the hill."

His laugh sounded more vicious than usual, like he was closer to animal than human. Talking about his perverse thoughts had ignited his desire like never before. His golden eyes were blazing with lust. His body burnt from the feral need to have his lover in his arms. He wanted —needed— to claim Akihito's body, like a wild predator marking its territory. And he let Akihito see it all.

"I swear he is the most headstrong person I have ever met in my life. It's like he was born just to defy me at every turn. But you know what, I don't want it any other way. He is…the light that completes my darkness. The breath of air that calms the chaos in me. He balances my world in a way no one else can ever do, makes me do things I thought I would never have done, let me see things I didn't even care before. If that's what love is, then, I guess, a heartless monster like me can still love someone. To me, he is just perfect and beautiful and—"

His heart beat faster with every words. Like a serial killer hungry for the next victim, Asami yearned for his lover. Craved for him. Obsessed with him. This was worse than an addiction. It was like a madness that he could no longer control. He knew his grin looked wicked and his voice was more of a growl than a sentence when he declared, "—and he is all mine. Mine and no one else's."

When he heard the next 'click', Akihito was back standing in front of him. Asami could touch his husband if he reached out his hands, but he kept them where they are.

Click.

Akihito took a step closer as Asami look straight at that lens.

Click.

"Is t-there—" Akihito's voice trembled as if he was using all his willpower to calm himself after listening to Asami's dark confession. The younger man cleared his throat and tried again in a more steady voice, "Is there anything else you would like him to know?"

Click.

They were so close now that Asami had to look up from where he sat to keep staring at the camera. Akihito placed a knee on the stool, practically straddling him. He could smell Akihito's lust, like a shark smelling blood. But, he would wait.

"Hmm," he hummed. "I appreciate everything he has done for me and for our family. He may not know this but I will do anything for him and it will never be enough."

Click.

"Anything? To what extend? Like, will you hurt someone for him? Or even kill someone?"

He let out an easy laugh. "Who said I haven't?"

That stopped Akihito's relentless questioning. His voice suddenly sounded serious when he broke character by calling Asami using his given name, "Fuck! Seriously, Ryu?"

Asami leaned back, an inscrutable smile on his face, "Relax, it was just a question, Akihito."

Akihito narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you evading my question by asking me another question?"

His grin grew wider. "Maybe?"

They stared at each other for a while, none was willing to back down. But, finally, Akihito yielded. He put down his camera on a nearby stool and sat on Asami's laps. Resting his forehead against Asami's, he said coyly, "Fine. Keep your secret if you want. I will find out one way or another, anyway."

Asami snickered at Akihito's claim. If it was anyone else, Asami would be annoyed beyond reason. But coming from his husband, the declaration merely sounded like a titillating foreplay. Only Akihito could challenge him and live long enough to tell the tale. Well, Asami would fuck him senseless first, but the younger man would still be alive nonetheless.

"So," Asami asked conversationally, even when he knew the answer to his mocking question. "Did you find my genuine emotions relatable?"

The laugh that answered him was expected. "Let's stick with Kirishima's script for now. I think only psychopaths and sociopaths will be able to relate to whatever you just told me. That is, if you don't get arrested first."

When Asami pulled me into another passionate kiss, driving his tongue deep into my mouth, I didn't even resist. I was way past denial to be able to pretend that I didn't want him. His impromptu willingness to let me see his raw emotions was like an aphrodisiac that set my body on fire.

I had known for long that he wasn't exactly normal. That he had a demon within him that could never be placated. Not that he wanted to. Asami didn't feel regular emotions like any other person. He killed someone that had annoyed him, went home, took a shower, and then had a dinner with me and our children like it was any other day. That was just how his twisted brain worked.

And yet, this man loved me even when he didn't fully understand what love was. He treated me like I was the most precious treasure on earth. He cared and protected our family as if it was his life mission. And the fact that he would do all that because of me was intoxicating.

Asami didn't even bother to take his pants all the way off. His cock was already hard when he took it out, warm and throbbing as if it was a living thing with a mind of its own. He stroke it lazily as he watched me stripping my own clothes in haste. I was an eager prey to his sexual desire.

He tugged my naked body closer, pushing me to straddle his powerful thighs. His body felt solid under my palms, all firm muscles with zero fat. His caress on my thighs was certain. His quiet confidence always calmed me down, even as I was preparing my body to accommodate his thick member.

He let me steady myself by holding onto his broad shoulders, his cock positioned right at the entrance of my tight channel. Then, he pushed his way in. Agonisingly slow, penetrating me inch by freaking inch, like he had all the time in the world. I groaned and squirmed and bucked, but he kept a tight grip on my hips, forcing me to follow the pace he wanted for us. It was such a sweet torture and I enjoyed every second of it.

When my ass finally touched his pants, a moan escaped my lips. He was so deep within me. So huge. I was so full, my eyes watered a little. Maybe, this was how it felt when one was being impaled by a steel rod. Like I was going to be split in two from within.

"Breath, Akihito," he commanded gently.

His voice was rough from his barely restrained passion. I didn't even realise that I had been holding my breath. Staring straight at those mesmerising golden eyes, I took a deep, long breath, before exhaling slowly. Once. Twice. And soon, the discomfort subsided.

"There," he comforted me softly. "That's not so hard, isn't it?"

I began to nod, but before I could finish the movement, he hauled me up, lifting my body until I needed to cling to him to avoid falling onto the floor. It was so sudden that I didn't even have the time to brace myself. His cock was almost out of me, then he slammed his way back in one single, powerful thrust.

I screamed but there was no sound coming out.

In my surprise, my lungs had forgotten to take in air. My brain was suddenly focusing on the renewed sensation that was borderline pain. My bodies arched to accommodate the sudden invasion. If he didn't have my legs in such bruising-grips, I would have slip onto the floor.

Asami grinned wickedly, like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"Oh, my Akihito," he whispered with such longing.

He kept murmuring a litany of sweet nothings in my ear. The sharp contrast of his tender voice and the brutal pounding he gave me would be terrifying if only I didn't trust him with everything in me. It was as if he still couldn't decide whether he wanted to love me or to tear me apart.

But did it even matter?

When his cock finally hit that spot deep within my body, I sobbed. It was so good, I wanted it to go on forever. However, I knew I was close. I could feel the tingling started at the bottom of my stomach, a burning urge that moved my hips in rhythm with his thrust. The loving praises trickling into my ear were now barely registered into my brain. "So sweet. So innocent."

He began syncing his word with each stab of his cock.

"So."

Stab.

"Fucking."

Stab.

"Trusting."

And just like that, I came.

It was such a rough ride that my muscles would surely be sore tomorrow. But at that moment, I couldn't even care. My body felt like it was floating in the afterglow of my climax. My legs turned into jelly as my body sank further in his strong arms.

He moved us to the couch at one end of the room, carrying me as if I weighted no more than a small child. My breather didn't last long. After arranging my body into his favourite position, he continued pounding into me like a madman who had lost all sense. As if he wouldn't even remember his own name if someone was to ask him right at that very moment. His golden eyes were nearly brown from his desire. His skin felt feverish under my fingers. His movement grew erratic.

Then, he shut his eyes, his lips parted slightly, and with one final jab and a soft sigh, his seeds filled me. I milked him wave after wave. Until he had nothing more to give.

When his body collapsed on top of mine, I closed my eyes, intending to take a little rest before thinking about filling our stomachs with food. But the next time I opened my eyes, some time had passed because the traffic outside had died down. Asami was still asleep and I didn't have the heart to wake him up. He had been working like crazy the past few days. The man must be very tired.

I moved his limbs gently so I could get out of the couch. After wearing my jeans, I checked my phone. It was a few minutes past 11PM. Maybe I could let him sleep for another hour before waking him up for the drive home.

Tiptoeing silently so that I wouldn't disturb him, I went back to my darkroom. This time, I locked the door from the inside. I didn't want him to suddenly barge in, like what he had almost done when he had just arrived.

At the furthest part of the darkroom, there was a hidden entrance. Around a year after I started using the studio, I had added it without Asami's knowledge. A contractor friend of mine had been happy enough to do it discreetly by writing it down as 'plumbing work' in the invoice. My friend basically partitioned a small part of the darkroom into a separate, hidden space where I could keep anything I wanted to keep private from my nosy husband.

As I went inside the small secret enclosure, my gaze fell on the evidence board that covered one side of the wall. It featured a collage of everything I could find about Asami: cuts from newspapers and magazines, notes, receipts, various reports I could get from Mitarai over the years, photos I had taken whenever I could stalk him, copies of documents he sometimes left on his desks, all interconnected with different colour of strings to mark relations and timelines.

Once upon a time, when we had just met, I had wanted to use these materials to bring him to justice. But, over the years, my feeling for him had changed. I no longer wanted to send him to jail and throw away the key. Love had won at the end.

My obsession with him, however, had remained the same. Years after years, I had investigated and collected new evidences. The more he tried to hide the shady part of his life from me, the more I was possessed by the urge to find out everything about it. That illegal deal he made a few months ago? Or the suspicious business trip he went for last week? Oh yes, I knew a little about it. I might not know everything. Not yet. But I would. It was just a matter of time. I wasn't sure when or how, but somehow, Asami's secret life had become my personal passion project.

Would you keep it a secret if I told you what terrified me the most?

When Asami described his love for me just now, the maniacal possessiveness he felt over me?

In some ways, I actually found it…well, relatable.

Q&A

Q: Is Asami manipulating Tao because he knows he's the traitor?
A: Maybe?

Q: What are Akihito's true feelings?
A: I think his one true love is always and will always be Asami. But at the same time, he also cares a little for Tao, although nowhere in the same level as Asami. Mostly, he is just supporting Asami's scheme to beat Yakenonokarasu. Or, at least, that's what I am guessing.

Q: Why can't Asami and Akihito have a sweet chapter?
A: Can this chapter be considered their sweet chapter?

Q: Ahh you like to torture us?
A: Uhmmm.

Q: Is Tao really in love with Akihito or is he merely strongly lusting after him?
A: Well as Asami said, everyone has different interpretations of love. So, let's see?

Really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. For me, it's a good break from doing the marathon of bringing this story to its end.

For those who forgot about Reiko, she appeared in chapter 9. :)

So, I was trying to challenge myself whether it's possible to write this chapter in a way that makes it look like Akihito was talking about another man. I did it with Asami POV a few times before, so I was wondering whether it will work with Akihito POV. It's honestly harder, because when I described Asami, I feel like it was definitely him.

But let me know whether it actually works ya. Or, even if you can guess it from the beginning, please let me know what gives you the hints! :)

See you all next time. Take care.