Chapter Text
The first thing Asami Ryuichi noticed when the first rays of light hit his eyes in the morning, was that he was alone in bed. Judging by the warm sheets next to him, he must have missed his beloved Akihito by minutes. Shame. He would have loved to pin him down for another round or two before heading to the shower. As it was, he would now have to wait one week to pound that delicious ass again.
A shame indeed.
He stretched, and then brought himself to a sitting position. The muscles in his thighs protested for the fraction of a second, reminding him that he might have gone a little overboard last night, what with fucking Akihito in positions and levels of intensity that left no room for proper recovery. He was lucky his fitness level was way beyond average – as to his young lover, he was not so sure.
How Akihito had managed to stumble out of bed and actually walk out of the room was a mystery to him.
A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. He had absolutely no regrets.
It would be a tough week, Asami thought, as he headed to the shower. To say that he was not looking forward to meeting Fei Long in Macau was an understatement. Expect that man to take one week of his time to sort out issues that would be solved in two days by other reasonable people. But, unless he was very wrong, he knew that the head of the Baishe was going to test his patience by mixing business and pleasure (or lack thereof, in that case), as usual.
That man never learnt.
As warm water ran down his body, he looked at the empty bottle of his Russian Amber Imperial Shampoo, and then at its unopened twin – the one that he had bought Akihito, and that had been immediately returned when the young man learnt about its immodest price of roughly 15 thousand yen.
‘Only a snob like you would spend so much money in shampoo!’, he had protested before throwing Asami the small black container and grabbing his own 486ml bottle of apple peach shampoo bought at the local discount shop, which - he had insisted on repeating many times - had been a real bargain.
Oh, and apparently it could be used as body wash too. Extra savings.
Asami shook his head as he remembered how proud Akihito had sounded when defending his purchase. His little lover was too frugal for his own sake.
He was about to make use of his “ridiculously expensive” Imperial Shampoo when his eyes fell on the half empty bottle next to it.
He smirked.
Oho, Fei Long was in for a little surprise.
++++++++++
Less than 20 minutes later, Asami was stepping outside his front door in his impeccable Dormeuil Vanquish II suit – a personal favourite.
“Is something wrong, Kirishima?” he asked, barely able to hide his amusement at his first assistant’s raised eyebrows as he caught a whiff of cheap apple and peach that seemed to emanate from him, from the very top of his head to the soles of his new pair of Testoni shoes.
“No, sir,” the other man answered, pushing his glasses up his nose after clearing his throat. “Nothing wrong at all.”
“Good,” Asami replied, with a smirk in his lips. “What is our ETA?”
“10 minutes, sir.”
Asami lowered his eyes to the reports he had been handed by Kirishima as soon as they entered the limo.
“What is the situation with Dojima?” he asked, flipping pages as with a slight frown.
“He wants to schedule a meeting with you as soon as possible.”
“He won’t give up, will he?”
“He seems to be determined to gain access to the power station at Zuhai.”
For years, Asami had been able to coexist with a variety of syndicates that insisted on spreading across Japan despite his iron grip on the main routes of all drug and weapons that entered the country. More than once, thugs of all sorts and sizes had approached him in an attempt to forge alliances. But he knew better than making oaths of loyalty to the likes of people like Daigo Dojima.
There was only one person Asami Ryuichi would swear loyalty to – himself.
“Do you think he has approached Fei Long?” Asami asked, after lighting a cigarette with his eyes still scanning the contents of the files he was holding.
“He might have.”
“So the virtuous chairman of the Tojo Clan is getting greedy…” he whispered. “Who would have thought…”
“Asami-sama…”
Even without looking at Kirishima’s face, Asami could feel the tension in his assistant's voice.
“I also got a report from our men in Sapporo,” said the man, pushing his glasses up his nose for the second time in very few minutes – one of the most obvious signs that something was making him uncomfortable.
“And?”
“They… moved.”
Asami’s face remained impassive, but his heart skipped a beat at that piece of information.
“Where?” he asked, and his baritone voice carried a distinguished tone of threat.
Silence.
“Kirishima?”
“Tokyo. The report shows that Hayashi rented an apartment in Kabukicho.”
Another slight frown found its way to Asami’s usually very calm and collected face. Sapporo was good. Sapporo was far from him and far from Akihito. Tokyo is not what he had planned. Tokyo was not an option.
He took a deep breath and pretended to focus exclusively on the spreadsheet he was looking at.
“What is Hayashi’s current employment status?” he asked.
When the other man did not reply, he forced his eyes up and they glinted with anger.
“Kirishima?”
“Unknown.”
There go the glasses again. Apparently, the sequence of bad news was taking its toll on his first assistant.
“As in, access to employer details is restricted by a non-disclosure agreement,” Kirishima added. “But I have already allocated a team to crack all the files open.”
“Send me all the updates as soon as you get hold of them", Asami replied, handing the reports back to his assistant.
He took a long drag on his cigarette, waiting for that hit of nicotine to soothe his concerns. Today, however, his Dunhills might not be enough.
He lowered his eyes to the exclusive IWC on his wrist. 8:33.
“What about Takaba?” he asked.
“Shinada reported that he arrived at work almost one hour ago.”
“Where?”
“In a jewellery studio in Ginza.”
Asami smashed what was left of his cigarette on the ashtray Kirishima held towards him and knocked on the screen divider.
“Suoh, change route,” he said, meeting the blond man’s eyes on the rear view mirror. “We are stopping somewhere else.”
++++++
“What are you doing here?” Akihito hissed, after being dragged to an empty room adjacent to the one where his photo shoot was taking place. “I am working, you can’t just-“
“You left without saying goodbye,” Asami interrupted, pulling the struggling young man closer to his body.
“Huh?” Akihito’s eyes went wide. “Who are you and what did you do to Asami?”
“Oho, make sure you understand what I mean by ‘saying goodbye’, Akihito.”
With that, he kneaded his lover’s jeans-clad butt as he pushed his back against the wall.
“Pervert…”
Their lips were about to touch when the younger man pulled back.
“Oh, that reminds me,” he heard Akihito say as he fumbled in one of his pockets. “I got you something.”
Asami looked at the outstretched hand in front of him, on top of which rested a tiny pouch adorned with an elegant red bow. He raised an eyebrow as he looked from the photographer’s hand to his mischievous face, and then fished for the content of the pouch while his eyes never left Akihito’s. The light-haired rascal appeared to be struggling with the desire to laugh.
‘Asami Ryuichi, Pervert Extraordinaire,’ read the golden nameplate. Asami allowed his eyes to linger on every word, before raising them to the young man in front of him.
“You, giving me a gift?” he asked, as he spun the nameplate between his fingers before putting it in one of the pockets of his pants. “I am flattered.”
“D-Don’t look so full of yourself,” he heard Akihito stutter back. “It was a 2 for 1 offer and I had already gotten mine and didn’t want the other one to go to waste.”
“What does yours say?”
The photographer bit his lip, before searching his pockets and handing him his nameplate.
‘Takaba Akihito, The Astute’
A sharp intake of breath was Asami’s first response to what he had just read. He bit the inside of his cheek not to laugh.
“The astute?” he said, his voice firm and serious despite his extreme amusement. “You really had the nerve?”
“Hey! I am astute!” Akihito replied, before taking back the nameplate and putting it back in his pocket.
“If you say so...”
Covering the distance between them, Asami resumed his assault on his favourite victim.
“Don't pout,” he whispered into his lover’s ear as he pushed his back against the wall. “It makes me want to do things to you and I really don't have the time.”
“Good,” Akihito whispered back, his voice trembling slightly when Asami’s teeth grazed against his earlobe. “B-Because I am still sore from last night.”
“Are you?”
“Y-Yeah…” the photographer stuttered when one of Asami’s hands sneaked under his T-shirt, his slender fingers making their way up his chest. “You went too hard on me.”
“You seemed to be enjoying it.”
“I was...” Akihito’s voice was nothing but a moan when the older man’s fingertips circled his nipple. “I mean, I was not!"
“Liar,” Asami whispered in response, letting the tip of his tongue dip into Akihito’s ear. “You are too cute.”
Their mouths crashed together, Akihito’s lips promptly parting to receive his tongue. He always tasted so sweet. One of his hands held the photographer’s chin as he explored every inch of the delicious flesh offered to him, licking, biting, sucking. He felt a hand go up his neck and grab his hair, and then Akihito pulled back.
“Did you… Did you use my shampoo?” he asked, looking surprised.
“I might have, yes. “
“W-Why?”
He observed the faint smile on his lover’s lips and pondered if he should reveal his motives or just leave it to Akihito’s imagination.
“I am meeting with Fei Long and I want him to smell what he can never have,” he answered, matter-of-factly. After all, imagination could take people to very dangerous places.
The young man in front of him seemed to deflate a little. He was still flushed and his slightly dilated pupils left no doubt he was still aroused, but his smile had faded away.
“You both need treatment,” Akihito said at last, trying to break free from Asami’s grasp.
“Yes,” the older man simply tightened his grip on Akihito’s arm, turning him around so that his back was pressed against his chest. “I agree.”
One of his hands resumed his caresses under the photographer’s T-shirt, pinching his left nipple as the palm of his hand searched for that spot on his chest where his heartbeat was the most evident. The soft vibration of Akihito’s heart beating under his touch soothed him in a way he would never be able to explain.
“A-Asami...” Akihito whimpered. “You said you had no time...”
Once again, their lips searched for each other, and this time Asami made sure to deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming Akihito’s strong and hard as one of his hands roamed down his lover’s stomach, until his fingertips grazed the growing bulge in Akihito’s jeans.
“I can't leave you in this state, can I?” he whispered, pressing his own erection against the photographer’s back.
Akihito’s breath became more labored when Asami’s fingers slid from his stomach to his belt, unbuckling it and opening the fly of his jeans with incredible ease.
“So hard...” Asami grunted as he freed Akihito’s erection from inside his boxers. “You are too good to me, Akihito.”
How he wished he had time to bend Akihito over the desk behind him and just fuck that perfect body until they both were spent. His own cock was impossibly hard, but he really had no time for a quickie – especially because his definition of quickie was not exactly the same as other people’s.
“Will you miss me while I'm gone?” he asked, while his teeth nipped at Akihito’s ear and his hand stroked his hardened length with growing speed.
“Nnn…”
“Will you miss my hands on you?” Asami whispered, watching the younger man throw his head back in abandon as he pumped his cock. “My mouth?”
Obviously, the only response he got to his questions was a string of loud moans.
“My cock in your tight little hole? Huh? Akihito?”
At his words, Akihito’s cock twitched furiously and leaked thick drops of precum into his hand. Asami had to bite back a groan as his lover galloped towards his orgasm, eyes shut tight as he panted.
“A-Asami... Nnnn”
“Say it.”
“Asami...p-please…”
The young man whimpered even more when Asami slowed his strokes to a torturing slow and soft motion.
“Say that you will miss me,” he whispered into Akihito’s throat, and saw his lover’s eyes shoot open.
“I-I will... I w-will…” he heard the young man stutter, after a few seconds of hesitation. “I will miss you.”
“Good boy,” Asami hissed back, his pupils blown back with the intensity of his desire. His mouth moved to Akihito’s throat, biting and sucking the skin over his pulse, as one of his hands pinched a nipple and the other wanked his lover fast and hard. “Cum for me, Akihito.”
The photographer didn’t need to be told twice.
Asami watched as some thick ropes of semen hit the wall in front of them, while others coated his fingers. Akihito's face was all shades of red, perhaps because he was not exactly quiet when it came to sex and his employer in the next room had most likely heard every single moment of his rapture.
He took out a handkerchief from one of his pockets and cleaned his hands as his young lover searched for tissues around the room, with a mix of mortification and urgency in his eyes.
“Here,” Asami said, offering him his handkerchief. “Use this.”
He kept watching the photographer go about his business after mumbling what he supposed was a combination of a thank you and a curse. And then he heard another curse followed by another curse.
He realized it was time to take his leave. Glancing down at his watch, he saw it was 8:52.
Perfect.
Despite that little detour, things were still running according to schedule.
He kissed the flushed blonde one last time, and left.