Chapter Text
Leaning against the seat of the limo, Takaba Akihito tugged at his bowtie for the millionth time.
"Ugh, I look ridiculous," he complained, checking his reflexion on his cell phone.
"No, you don't," Asami replied, his voice casual and smooth as he watched the fidgety blonde. "No one looks ridiculous in a handmade Brioni tuxedo."
"I can't believe I am wearing a bowtie on my birthday!" Akihito sounded depressed, as he once again tugged at the barathea silk accessory around his neck. "How come you look so comfortable wearing one?"
"I am used to it, that's all."
The photographer snorted, and Asami looked out of the window, trying to hide a very obvious smirk.
He couldn’t wait to see his lover’s face when they got to their destination.
To think that hours earlier, he had caught Akihito telling his best friends that he, Asami, had no sense of humour.
The young man was in for a surprise.
When the limousine came to a halt, parking at the entrance of the imposing facade of a luxurious building filled with photographers elbowing each other on either side of a red carpet, Akihito’s eyes went wide.
“A-Asami!” the photographer stuttered, “What is this?”
“The Japanese Embassy is offering a dinner to the Prime Minister of Malaysia,” Asami replied, his voice casual as he smoothed an inexistent wrinkle in his lapel.
Next to him, Akihito’s eyes were wide.
“Are you out of your mind?!” he spluttered at last. “Is this your idea of a surprise? I thought you said we were going out to celebrate my birthday!”
“That is exactly what we are doing.”
“No, that’s not!” Akihito squeaked. “This is a business event! You should at least have asked if I wanted to come!”
Asami raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth as he turned his head to the window.
“I remember inviting you some time ago and you turned me down flat…” he whispered.
“Exactly!” the photographer replied. “Because I never wanted to go!”
“Why not?”
He turned to look at the photographer just in time to see him blush, his eyes darting back and forth as his mouth opened and closed, words apparently failing him.
“Why are you so nervous?” Asami pressed on.
The younger man’s shoulders drooped in defeat.
“Look, I just understand the rules of society, ok?” Akihito’s voice was low as he stared at the tip of his brand new Christian Louboutin loafers. “I know that your… business associates, or whatever they are, must have male lovers too, but it’s not as if it is acceptable to show up with them in a gala event…”
Asami’s fingers gently pushed the other man’s chin up, so that they were looking into each other’s eyes.
“Are you worried about my reputation?” he asked quietly, and Akihito diverted his eyes, blushing.
“I just think you are dragging it through the mud, that’s all,” he whispered in response.
“So you think I should have attended with a celebrity, as I usually do?”
“I am a part of your private live, not your public life,” the photographer answered, crossing his arms as he spoke. “I don’t care who you attend these stupid events with, I know it is part of your job.”
Asami spent a long minute looking at his lover’s frowning face.
“You are really cute, you know?” he whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to the other man’s lips. “Now put your ring back on,” he said, patting Akihito’s leg and finally unlocking his door.
The photographer’s eyes, once again, went wide. He was positive he had been extremely stealthy putting his promise ring into his pants pocket, how had Asami even noticed?!
Mindlessly, he too exited the limousine.
And why in heaven’s name did the man want the two of them to be seen in public wearing matching rings?
A wave of blinding flashes derailed his train of thought, and he frowned for a second, feeling disoriented. The strong hand of his lover on his lower back made him turn his head, just to find the impossibly good-looking man casting him a smug, devilish glance.
He was up to something.
++++
Stuffing his mouth with another canape, a sulky Akihito watched as Asami went around shaking hands, glowing like a movie star as his lips curled in polite smiles to politicians, businessmen and celebrities.
Of course, all eyes were on the golden-eyed crime lord, and not only the eyes, apparently. Every now and then, women with impossibly long legs and their stupid fancy dresses would touch the man’s elbow, leaning to whisper something in his ear, and laugh what could only be described as an orgasmic laugh when Asami acknowledged their presence.
Swallowing the food, Akihito grabbed a flute of champagne from the tray being offered to him, and washed down his bitterness in one large gulp.
What a great birthday celebration that was turning out to be.
The photographer was still choosing what he would eat next when Asami materialised in front of him. He choked on his champagne, his eyes darting around when the older man leaned forward, his slender fingers touching his hip.
“How is the food?” he heard the sultry voice whisper in his ear.
Akihito shrugged in response, his eyes still focused on the infinitude of appetizers displayed across the long marble table.
“I still don’t know what I am doing here…” the photographer whispered.
“I had some business associates to greet,” Asami replied, sipping his own champagne as he stared at him, “but I hope you were not too bored. I left you in good company…” he waved a hand to the vast variety of food ahead of them, “Food, your second favourite thing in life.”
Akihito shook his head, eyes narrowed as he munched on another canapé.
“Lemme guess,” he said, still chewing. “You think you are my favourite thing in life.”
“Oh, I know I am,” the older man replied, casually.
“As if!” Akihito exclaimed, letting his eyes travel from the very tip of the man’s expensive shoes, to the muscular body clad in his exclusive, impeccable tux, to the skin of his neck… then to his chiseled jaw… his mouth…
He gulped when he realized the impure thoughts that were filling his mind.
The man might as well be right.
“Well,” he heard Asami say, “…we’ve been together for more than four years, so I must be at least in your top 5.”
The photographer snorted, and reached for another flute of champagne when a waiter showed up with another tray.
“Asami…” he said, his tone more serious as he realized the many pairs of eyes that seemed to be casting sideway glances towards them. “I don’t think it was a good idea to bring me here.”
“Akihito, all the people in this room, including the media, belong to me,” the older man replied, and Akihito felt his slender fingers on his lower back, leading him away from the table and towards the stairs. “They know that they cannot just stop doing business with me, regardless of what they think of my private life.”
“They can still ostracize you,” the photographer said. “The media can be especially mean.”
“They can, but they won't. As to the media, I can stop them from publishing our pictures, if you don’t want them to.”
“You probably should.”
“Do you want me to?“ Asami asked, as they slowly went up the stairs.
Akihito hesitated for a moment. A part of him wanted to be publicly recognized as Asami’s lover – that, he couldn’t deny. But his more reasonable self couldn’t help but feel that was not a good idea.
“If you don’t answer I will not interfere, and we can wait for the headlines,” he heard the man say. “Can you imagine?”
Akihito was mindlessly sipping his champagne when they reached the mezzanine.
“My favourite one so far is…” Asami paused for dramatic effect. “Asami Ryuichi: dangerously gay.”
The words made the photographer spit out his drink.
“No,” Akihito was still wiping his mouth when Asami continued, his voice casual as he crossed his arms. “Asami Ruichi, dangerously gay? Question mark.”
There was a moment of silence, in which Akihito could do nothing but stare at the other man.
“Asami…” he whispered at last. “Are you… under the influence of drugs?”
“No. Why?” Asami replied, raising an eyebrow. “Are you?”
‘It has to be a midlife crisis, then,’ Akihito thought. It was understandable, though. Now that Asami was nearing his 40s, the prospect of becoming part of a new group of Japan’s demographics was probably taking its toll on the man’s sanity.
“You are not reacting to this as well as I thought you would, what is the matter?” he heard the older man ask, with a smirk on his lips. “You don't want to be seen with me?”
“That is not what I said.”
“That is what you implied…”
“That is not-“ Akihito tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Asami. I know you. You are not being yourself.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Asami asked, his usual smirk still in place.
“Just... Listen to yourself,” the photographer raised his hands. “Since when do you make jokes about being labelled as gay by the media?” he winced and rested his hands on the solid mahogany railing that separated them from the lower level. “You are trying to pull my leg,” he chuckled. “Either that, or you are really having a midlife crisis, and I find it hilarious.”
“Do you?” Asami asked, leaning his back against the railing.
“Yeah…”
“Good,” the older man replied, his golden eyes never leaving his face. “I like it when you smile.”
Akihito swallowed when the other man’s gaze began to undress him, slowly but steadily.
“Ok, stop,” the photographer replied, straightening his back. “This is getting weird.”
“Oh no, I don't think so…”
“Asami, seriously…”
“I have a number of pickup lines I intend to use until this night is over…”
“Asami!” Akihito gasped. “This is not a date!” he turned to look at the man by his side with narrowed eyes. “Or is it?” His eyes scanned the crowd below them. “No, it isn't, the Prime Minister of Malaysia wouldn't be in a date!” he snarled.
“I don't see any Prime Minister,” Asami replied, his tone of voice making it very clear he couldn’t possibly care less.
“Well, yeah, of course, you would have to turn around to see anyone other than me…”
It then occurred to the photographer to look around himself. For the first time, he realized that there was actually no one else but them in the mezzanine, and that all doors that granted access to that area were closed.
He suddenly felt very hot under the collar.
“Asami…” he whispered, tugging at his bowtie as all sorts of shameless ideas came to his mind. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like that, how?” the man asked, his voice dripping with second intentions as he slowly pushed himself away from the railing and walked to stand behind him.
“As if we were on a date!” Akihito squeaked, trying to ignore the warmth of the body that was dangerously close to his. “You are embarrassing yourself,” he complained. “And me, by default.”
“You know what I think?” he heard Asami whisper on his ear.
“Please don't share…” the photographer whimpered, knowing exactly where that conversation was going.
“I don't think it is embarrassment that is making you blush…” the sultry voice continued, and Akihito was suddenly very grateful for the fact the solid mahogany railing was hiding his body waist down from the eyes of the crowd below. “I think you want to be fucked.”
“A-Asami!”
“Look at me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong.”
Akihito didn’t even bother to turn around. If he did, his very obvious erection would give him away.
“You're insane…” he muttered.
“Insane, but not wrong.”
He felt the man nibble at his ear, and his eyes went wide.
“You have been trying to find a corner where no one would see us...” Asami whispered, his lips ghosting over his neck. “Yes, my beloved Akihito, I saw you staring at me as I talked to my business associates…”
Akihito let out a very quiet moan when strong hands gripped his hips, and pulled them closer.
“I think it is very indiscreet of you…” Asami’s lips were once again on his ear, and the very solid erection rubbing against his lower back only added to the shivers running up and down his spine, “…to have such thoughts.”
“Asami, I swear...” Akihito’s eyes darted frantically as he looked at the crowd below. Everyone seemed oblivious to their presence in the mezzanine, but he was still terrified that someone would end up looking up and finding the almighty Asami Ryuichi molesting him. “You are out of your mind.”
“You like the thrill, don't you?” Akihito gripped the railing when one of Asami’s hands found its way to the bulge in his pants, giving it a gentle squeeze. “That maybe you’ll get caught?”
Thrill? No! He was terrified! How could he be thrilled… Doing such things… In public… with the man everyone in that precinct desired… but that only he could have…
He bit back a moan, feeling his cock jump inside his pants.
Thrilled was an understatement. He was positively ecstatic.
“It is your birthday today,” he heard Asami whisper, still palming his erection while rubbing his own against his lower back. “Just say the word and I will make it come true, whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Whatever.”
“That can cost you…”
“Do your worst.”
Akihito bit his lip, relishing the warmth of the other man’s body that was seeping past his own clothes.
“B-But then you will retaliate against me…” the photographer whispered in response, feeling his entire body throb.
“I am entitled to, yes,” Akihito groaned when the tip of Asami’s tongue probed his ear, “…if I find it necessary.”
Akihito’s body went stiff. If the man kept that going, he would end up coming in his pants. He was already feeling that familiar tingle…
“This is so wrong...” he said, his unfocused eyes once again scanning the crowd below, and finding the guest of honour, the Prime Minister of Malaysia, looking somewhere dangerously close to the mezzanine.
“What is?” Asami asked, his slender fingers still doing their magic, and now moving to the zipper of his pants.
“To do it... In public...”
“In front of the Prime Minister?”
“We can't... We shouldn't...” Akihito knew he was blushing furiously – his face felt so hot he thought his head would catch fire. “It's wrong...”
“If it makes you feel better,” Asami whispered in response, “…he is an asinine crook that steals money from taxpayers to pay for drugs and prostitutes.”
The photographer was so caught up in his embarrassment that he barely noticed the moment in which his erection was released from its constraints. He gasped in shock when his eyes finally found it twitching in Asami’s hand.
“A-Asami!” he stuttered. “What if they see you?”
“Akihito…” the man’s hand stopped working as he spoke. “After all these years, I think I can afford to bend certain social conventions.
“I-“
“I can cut my losses,” Asami interrupted. “Can you cut yours?”
Akihito swallowed. When he put it that way…
“Probably,” he shrugged in response.
“Good.”
Without any further ado, Asami went on his knees, his back resting against the railing as he lodged himself between Akihito’s legs.
“Wha-“ the photographer gasped when he finally understood what was about to happen. “Asami! What are you doing?”
“Bending certain social conventions,” the man smirked.
“A-Asami! What if they turn around?” Akihito asked, in a panic. His blood-deprived brain still hadn’t processed that if anyone actually looked their way, all they would see was Akihito’s flushed face and his hands gripping the railing for dear life – however, no one would be able to see what was going on under his waistline, let alone the man kneeling in front of him. “Asami, what if they look this way?”
“Let them look…”
Akihito’s breath hitched when his lover’s warm lips finally got closer to the tip of his cock.
On his knees, Asami Ryuichi. The hottest man in the room – fuck that, the hottest man in Japan - was kneeling in front of him, about to give him a blowjob.
Of course, that would not be the first time, but it was certainly the first time they had such an audience. An oblivious audience, to all effects, but still…
Asami was going to suck him in the middle of one of his fucking fancy parties.
“Asami, wait, wait, fuck…” Akihito choked, quickly grabbing his cock and giving it a squeeze to stop himself from coming. “Ugh, wait.”
His hands were shaking as he steered himself from his point of no return. What a shame it would be, for that blowjob to end before it even began.
“O-Ok,” he stuttered, when his heartbeat finally slowed down. “Ok, go on…”
The man below him raised an eyebrow.
“Doing things in public really turns you on, huh?” he whispered, as his slender fingers wrapped around the throbbing flesh.
“You turn me on…” Akihito moaned back, biting his lower lip when Asami’s eyes flashed dangerously at his words.
Soon enough, the man was devouring his cock, licking it, sucking, letting it all into his mouth, til he could feel his glans rub against the back of the older man’s throat.
“Fuck… Oh, fuck…”
Akihito’s eyes had rolled back, but he forced himself to snap out of his reverie and look down.
Those golden eyes staring at him… He wanted to see them… He wanted to see Asami eyefucking him as his cock disappeared into his mouth.
So hot.
“Fuck, Asami…”
Akihito’s mouth was hanging open, his mind completely hazy. He felt the familiar tingle of orgasm again, and this time he was not sure he would be able to hold back.
His brain had not even registered that below them, a man had gone up the stage, and everyone had gone very quiet – so quiet, that for the first time he could actually hear the very low slurping sounds Asami was making as his tongue lavished his cock.
“A-Asami… Nnnn… I’m gonna cum…” he whispered, his knuckles white as his fingers gripped the railing even harder.
Somewhere in the distance, a male voice was making announcements that his sex-crazed brain could not really make out, except for a few words that made his eyes go wide.
“…Takaba Akihito… photographer… services to the community…”
Blinking frantically, he was able to see the man in the stage raise an arm in his direction, and all eyes below turned towards the mezzanine.
“…it is his birthday today, please let’s give him a round of applause!”
Below him, Asami had just inserted a well lubed finger into his ass, and he came so hard he nearly tumbled backwards.
“Aahh… Aaah…”
His head was thrown back, his breath completely out of control.
The clapping slowed down – probably everyone below thought he was having a seizure?
He threw his head over his arms, now folded over the railing. Still on his knees, Asami was laughing. Laughing!
Akihito took a long, deep breath, and finally gathered the courage to look at the crowd below. He squared his shoulders, an embarrassed smile curving his lips.
“T-Thank you,” he said, raising a hand. “Thank you very much!”
The people below, including the Prime Minister of Malaysia, raised their flutes of champagne in return.
Akihito was absolute certain he had blushed all kinds of red as he waited for people to finally turn their attention back to the man on the stage. When they finally did, he let out a deep breath and nearly melted against the railing.
“You’re welcome…” Asami whispered as he patted his hips, the usual smirk curling the corners of his mouth.
The photographer merely glared at him.
The crazy bastard.