18+ Viewfinder: Floating In Between, Where Our Worlds Collide (Asami x Takaba)

[JenovaVII]

Summary: Asami and Takaba going around playing house. Stuff happens. Because things (never really) change.

Status: Complete

Warnings: Hmm... cranky humor, un-romance and trashy action?

 

Title: Floating In Between, Where Our Worlds Collide

Author: JenovaVII

Fandom: You’re My Loveprize In Viewfinder, by Yamane Ayano

Timeline: Post-Pray In The Abyss (probably); approx. five years later.

Pairing: Asami/Takaba/Asami

 

Rating: M, overall.

 

Author's note: Really long and naggy A.N. ahead; either read or don’t.

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

Ugh, this is my first real attempt at fan fiction writing, I’ve tried once before but it was so bad I just want to murder every memory of it that still haunts me.

 

This is Asami/Takaba/Asami, so if you are one of those people who can’t take Asami being on the bottom it’s probably of your best interest that you don’t read on.

I love reversible couples. I love equality in homosexual relationships. For me, Asami is still the seme of semes; if you want to put it that way. I love Asami with a passion; he’s my favorite BL character ever and one of my top favorite characters on fiction in general. I firmly believe that he has bottomed before, at least in his teen years. Asami’s existence exudes power and in my mind, even though he loves being in control of everything, all the time; I think that he wouldn’t mind at all letting Takaba do him, because he is a man who does not think that being on the receiving end is something that threatens his pride or dignity or manliness in any way, whatsoever. But most of all, it’s because the partner is Takaba.

I only had PWP in mind when I started typing this (and drawing simultaneously, ‘cause my mind just flooded with explicit images that begged to be put to paper right away) and it just kind of wrote itself; I didn’t really think about it, the words simply flowed. I wanted this to be filled with pure indecent smut but in a way that, in the end, the damn thing wouldn’t be about the smut at all, but about the emotions instead. No cheesy stuff. Just pure intensity. I can’t really explain it well; it’s Asami and Takaba so it’s obsession and passion and possession however you look at it, and I wanted to convey just that; nothing more, nothing less.

Then in the middle of it I thought I should insert a plot in it, something that led to this situation in particular, but I don’t have a clear image of what I really want so to the hell with it.

So yeah, I’ll write it as I go. Actually I’m writing it pretty much backwards – the first chapter I wrote is actually going to be the last one – and now I’m making things up on the way, coming back from the future to the past and vice-versa. And let them f-ck all they want. (Maybe.)

By the way, this was supposed to me a one-shot and now it’s going to have XXX chapters. Bye.

 

P.S.: Random titles are random. Or not.

 

 

[JenovaVII]

CHAPTER I (part one)

 

Dogs Are Loyal To Their Owners

 

Chapter rating: T for some language and (not really) kind of sexual situations?

 

 

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

"Takaba, come here. We need to talk."

 

Oh shit.

 

"Last name basis today, is it? What did I do now? I've been layin' pretty low lately. Oh, but you already know that don't you?"

 

Rolling his eyes, Takaba doesn't bother pressuring too much his latter words with the weight of emphasis. Even if his point is more than valid, the opposite party is Asami. So yeah, it's not going to work anyway. Instead, he moves on,

 

"That I remember I haven't been doing anything extremely stupid so I really don--"

 

"Ah. So you do admit to have done something vaguely stupid, then?"

 

 

"Stop your freaking mind games and just spit out what you what to say already! 'Cause I honestly have no idea what I did this time around."

 

A lie. He's fairly good at it – lying – but no one is ever good enough to fool Asami; at least not completely. Even without the goons trailing and keeping tabs on him, Takaba is convinced that the older man would see right through him; those sharp eyes are merciless, after all.

 

Predatory, that's what he looks like. Sitting there with an allure worthy of a king; long limbs crossed – both arms, and legs – and a burning cigarette dangling from between upper and lower lips. The sight of cancerous smoke being sucked and wafted should never look so erotic.

 

"As you wish. First things first: you said you don't remember. I too, don't remember you having such bad memory until now, and neither did you hit your head anywhere. Also, before you mention the time you hit your head in the tiles while we were in the shower let's say, two weeks past, I did take a look while you were passed out afterwards and there was no injury whatsoever. Leaving that aside, you do need to start taking memos, Akihito. Didn't I tell you before to stop involving yourself in matters that do not concern you? I was informed that you were fussing your nose around Toshima's territory. Care to share the information with me?"

 

"Don't talk about me as if I'm a freaking dog, you bastard! I wasn't fussing my nose around, I was snooping. There's a bit of a difference, okay? I was doing my job."

 

"Fussing, snooping; it's all the same, really. Now, regarding the info…"

 

Tch. Might as well…

 

"Man, I thought I had done great with finally tricking Suoh for the first time in a long while and in the end it was a failure, huh. Anyway, I didn't take any pictures or anything and no one saw me, right? 'sides Suoh, that is."

 

Snicker.

 

"I am glad you find the situation entertaining. For now."

 

"Don't be such a tight ass, geez! If you were a normal human being 'nstead of an outer space perverted mafia boss you'd have wrinkles all around and stuff. What's with your genes anyway?"

 

"Ah. Should I thank you for the compliment? It's rare for you to do so. Were it other person that not you, I'd think they were fawning over me – flirting. Now about the 'tight ass' issue, Akihi--"

 

"Don't. Even. Go. There."

 

Hissing like the wild cat he his, Takaba's restraints, transparent to the naked eye, start to shake warningly. Only his lover's reactions at this are filled with nothing but amusement.

 

"So?"

 

"Those guys... They are into some pretty heavy stuff. I just heard them talking. It looked kinda like a meeting of some sort; a private one. Only the big guys were there – that I recognized there was Toshima and the heads from both Raisha and Kogaya, and also some other red-haired middle aged man I didn't know; he looked pretty intimidating."

 

Takaba receives a nod and at that takes a break; considering something.

 

"Hm, Asami?"

 

"What is it?"

 

"You— you are into that business too, aren't you?"

 

"What do you think, Akihito?"

 

"I'm like 90% sure you a-- A~ah, forget it. It was a stupid question anyway."

 

Takaba sighs and lifts the palm of his hand over his face, minutely kneading his forehead, just above the scowling eyebrows – a de-stressing gesture that does not serve its intended purpose very well.

 

Laying his elbow on the table, he uses that same hand to support his chin,

 

"As I was saying; they only just talked, like for a long time. No signed papers nor trades nor anything else, really. Jam-packing the whole thing, what I got was that the newest goods were going to be inspected before the auction, to make sure everything's in order. I was able to hear about the location where they're gonna do the nasty but I couldn't hear the date 'cause someone's bleached gorilla appeared like a Tarzan and dragged me out of there!"

 

That last sentence began in a dead-pan tone, like the majority of the speech until that point, but started rising in pitch until it finished in a forced yell.

 

One more unsuccessful try at ruffling Asami's feathers, apparently. Idiotic much, because black panthers don't have feathers in the first place.

 

But it doesn't hurt to do it again, and again; and Takaba is feeling lucky in spite of knowing he's going to have a sore ass until the end of the month,

 

And today is only the 5th…

 

All of it just for taking a peek at who he – just now – decided to grudgingly nickname Toshi-yarou; so he figures there's nothing left to loose,

 

As it is, I'll at least have my fun.

 

Shit-eating grin in place, he presses on,

 

"Without the liana, or the war cry. Fortunately."

 

[JenovaVII]

CHAPTER I (part two)

 

Dogs Are Loyal To Their Owners

 

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

“Takaba.”

 

One single word. The feeling of dread that creeps up his spine doesn’t stop its companion excitement, and he kind of really, really wishes Asami would start punishing him anytime soon – preferably now. Asami seems to be very interested in talking at the moment, though; so Takaba guesses he and his aching member will have to stay in the bench for a while more.

 

His guess is proved right when Asami parts his lips and a smooth voice comes out,

 

“As you know, I will use that information for my benefit; it’s partial but it is undoubtedly relevant. Good job.”

 

Takaba would erupt in joy at that and think he was forgiven – if he didn’t know better. So, instead of making a fool out of himself, he stays put; and waits for what is yet to come,

 

“On the other hand; you deceived one of my best men – using a woman – and proceeded to put yourself in danger, meddling into issues of such caliber. All the while chewing bubble gums and jumping around on roop tops. You’re messing with very dangerous people here; a slip of the foot and you’ll fall into the pit.”

 

“Nagging, Asami? Really? Don’t make a fuss, you know I’ll just keep doing it. Don’t you get tired of reprimanding me every single time? I sure get tired of hearing it. Besides, wasn’t it thanks to me and my crush on roof tops that we met? It’s a good thing overall, right?

 

“This is not a joke, Akihito. This time you are not involving yourself in the usual drug or weapon dealing; this is life traffic. You should know what you’re getting yourself into; you were almost sold by Fei Long, or have you forgotten that as well? Furthermore, having all this trouble and ending up not taking any photos; how does that mind of yours work?”

 

Now that was it, the tone on that last question. Asami had as much of an innocent face as he could while having devilish handsome features. His acting was flawless. But that glint in the eyes that Takaba was so familiar with gave him away – it was making fun of him.

 

A quietly fuming Takaba doesn’t take the bait. Much.

 

“I couldn’t forget if I wanted to, asshole. I don’t understand you either; if I take photos you get mad, and if I don’t you get mad anyway. Asking about the photos with that guilt-free expression on your face no one would believe that it was thanks to your own intervening, you jerk. Look, this job was given to me at the last second, I had to take it. This is just too damn big and it fucking thrilled me. I came home, grabbed my best gear and took off.”

 

“Curiosity killed the cat. That saying fits you so well it’s sickening.”

 

Asami oozes so much sarcasm Takaba seriously thinks he might melt someday.

 

“Shut up! Do you want me to continue or not?!”

 

“Indeed, I’d like very much to know how you managed to gain so much time from Suoh.”

 

“Eh… He didn’t tell you?”

 

“I told him I wanted to hear the specifics from you. I have to say, Akihito; you’re getting too good at this kind of thing for your own good. You were capable of making that stoic face of his red with embarrassment.”

 

“I know, right?! It was awesome; the look on his face when he finally caught me was priceless, if you had se—“

 

Receiving one of those extremely blazing glares, Takaba hastily takes, or rather, grabs the hint and clears his throat.

 

“Well, hm, as I was leaving home I called Mai – Takato’s wife – and asked her if she could get one of her friends to do a favor for me. It was a shot in the blind ‘cause I needed it fast, and I couldn’t risk calling one my close friends because Suoh probably has all their faces memorized.”

 

Takaba mumbles looking away; that idea was disturbing now that he thought about it. Taking a pause and turning his head to the front again, he looks at the older man and a smile stars to stretch, his voice gaining life,

 

“Lucky me, she was shopping with her cousin. I told her in a nutshell what she had to do; she actually thought it was funny and agreed on the spot. In a few minutes Suoh was calling as usual; to know where I was. Told him I had to go shopping and he met me there. As we were entering the mall, a girl bumped into him and her mountain of bags – conveniently full of lingerie, condoms and tampons; all of it scattered on the floor. I knew Suoh was a gentleman and he didn’t disappoint; imagine that dark tower getting on his knees and apologizing and picking up everything while trying to not look at anything at the same time.”

 

Unable to repress the wave of laughter, Takaba indulges in it for a moment before picking up where he left off,

 

“A shame I didn’t get to appreciate the moment; as soon as he dropped to the floor I said I was gonna stock up on films and watch around for new cameras; Suoh knows I take a really long time doing that so he’d wait outside, like always. Of course, instead of going inside I turned around and took off, as he stayed there helping Mai’s friend.”

 

“You are the devil.”

 

As Asami allows an entertained sneer to appear, showing more signs of praise than of disapproval, Takaba dips his head slightly to the side, and gives his best smile,

 

“Learned from the best.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

I'd really appreciate some criticism because I don't know if this is worth the time it takes to write/read. (:

[Belita]

Sweetheart it DOES, please do keep going!!

 

Sorry i'm not very good at criticizing anything but i have to say i loved the fanfic theme....obviously

 

Please do keep it up, it's well built, well written, nothing else i can ask for...

Just waiting for the steamy smexy scenes anxiously *__*

 

Thank you

[Rei]

Aww Jenow, just saw your fanfic, really good so far! Keep it up!

[JenovaVII]

A.N.: I write chapters that stubbornly insist they'll come later instead of right now – when I need them. I have like seven or more chapters written on the computer, and the devil knows how many more drabbles scratched on paper, but I keep having to write the next after the ones I post because new ideas pop and there's always something I have to add and change and connect and stuff. My cats are stupid and I'm out of cigarettes.

 

As I said before this is my first fan fiction and so, this one is also my first time writing an intimate scene; so bear with me. Also, I'm wondering since the first chapter if I'm being able to write the characters, at least a bit, well… in character. So tell me what you think, I'd appreciate it. Feel free to criticize; I enjoy criticizing and receiving critiques. (:

 

 

CHAPTER II (part one)

 

Gulp It Down; Lick Your Lips Clean

 

Chapter rating: M, for language and sexual situations.

 

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

Getting aroused in the middle of being interrogated is not bad; no. To Takaba what is bad is that as said interrogation finally ended, and he got Asami to give up that damn chair he was sitting on to pick him up, stride across the office and drop him to the leather couch, sitting on him instead – one knee to each side of his hips, crotches pressing together and that look on the yakuza's face; overflowing with lust, immobilizing him – he thought he'd get want he wanted; and he wanted it hard and rough.

 

Too bad Asami had other plans.

 

Sweeping his tongue against full lips to gain immediate entrance, Asami licks the inside of Takaba's mouth – all too willing to be ravished senseless – and lovingly mashes their lips together, slowly; with a tenderness that could only be called cruel.

 

There is none of the usual fight for dominance, nor the breath taking forcefulness that usually makes them part all too soon, to replenish the oxygen inside their lungs. This one is a kiss meant to carry on as long as possible; leaving no corner unexplored.

 

When Asami pulls away, Takaba hurriedly grips his hair and nothing but crushes them back together, plundering the other's mouth, urging him,

 

Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop—

 

Granted, Asami complies; he doesn't evade the violent kissing and responds, languidly; as he allows himself to be devoured alive.

 

Enjoying the moment, Takaba groans, wondering just how is it that Asami always tastes so good; even with the slight bitterness of all the tobacco he consumes – on a daily basis, and for how many decades. It's kind of a sweet flavor – but then not really; it's always spicy, like the man itself – and because he never fails to brush his teeth with the peppermint scented tooth paste – and most of the time a tinge of alcohol still lingers.

 

Nnh. It's cognac today.

 

Takaba always thought so: that it all fuses together – his daily habits squirming themselves to remain inside of him; into being a more permanent part of his body – and it just adds to the addicting taste of Asami's own flesh.

 

But there's just so much pleasure a man can take. The making out session is dragging on far too long without any other kind of contact – Takaba is hurting down there; his jeans tightening painfully between his legs. Asami is still not fucking touching him, nor even showing any signs of doing it anytime soon; and that's just wrong – something is seriously wrong.

 

And in that moment it dawns on him: this is supposed to be his punishment – getting him excited and leaving him hanging for God knows how long. Takaba knows that he must have made a face – one of those ridiculous faces people make when having an epiphany – because Asami is leering at him, ever-present smirk plastered to his face.

 

The comforting thing is: he knows Asami isn't really pissed – or pissed at all, really – this time. He also knows that they've been at it for roughly half an hour. So, not being the most enduring of people, Takaba is getting restless and makes it known; using his hand to grip Asami's thigh, just before coming up to cup the other's hard on, groping it through his trousers in a provoking gesture.

 

A swipe of wet tongue on dry lips. Takaba decides he's done well and deserves a reward,

 

"Hey, Asami, I'm sick of the foreplay. Are we gonna fuck yet?"

 

The attempt gains him, at least, a brutal clash of lips – bruising and enticing; forcing a strained sound out of him. And the instant Asami groans back, an avalanche of arousal comes crashing down on him.

 

Takaba loses it.

 

Hands gripping at perfect ass cheeks, mouth claiming the opposite's tongue as the prize, clothed shaft grinding desperately against the other man's. However, for Takaba's disappointment, it doesn't last very long.

 

Asami snatches his lips away, a thread of saliva bridging them to Takaba's – the reminder of their connecting just seconds ago – and grabs Takaba's chin with one hand; pressing a thumb against a kiss swollen lower lip, and sliding it down just so. The other hand keeping Takaba's hips in place, preventing him from continuing the grinding motion; fingers drawing lazy circles – too damn near and yet still not close enough – in the inner part of Takaba's thigh.

 

A hoarse chuckle makes Takaba feel better – knowing that he isn't the only one affected by their activities is always reassuring.

 

"Patience, Akihito. A lengthy foreplay is the path to a mind blowing orgasm. I'd expect you to know that by now. Or is it that bad memory of yours, striking again?"

 

Patience—

 

Takaba thinks,

—isn't something you should tell a dude to have – when you have him under you, rock hard and at your entire mercy

 

"Gah! How do you do it, Asami?

 

How can you annoy me so damn much, toss me around and push my buttons 'till I'm at my wits ends with just a dozen of words?

 

The thoughts were processed but didn't manage to come out in form of sound. And there was no need to, because the message was received just as well – if not better.

 

Sparkling golden slits narrowed even more, a soft laugh slipping out of impossibly lewd parted lips. Each time that voice penetrates Takaba's ears, the thrill that lands on him only intensifies.

 

Asami teases him; a touch so gentle it scares Takaba for a second, making him doubt if this is really Asami, but then just as quickly it falls on him that it's been happening for a long time now – those soft caresses – and he wonders if he ever will get completely used to them –as much as it makes his heart beat faster, it also makes him panic,

 

That's not how 'we' should be…

 

And just as he was letting himself get swallowed by his own thoughts, the man who's always there to grab him and pull him back up again does what he does best and, with a nerve that proves that this person on top of him is undeniably his Asami, the yakuza platters – and wherever he does, he makes the most nonsensical sentence seem like some irrevocable truth of the world,

 

"A magician never reveals his secrets, it would be tedious otherwise."

 

"…"

 

A long pause, devoid of speech. For Takaba it was… afflictive, to say the least.

 

"Did you… Did you just compare yourself with a magician..?"

 

Uncertainty worming away at his throat, and tip-toeing at each word.

 

However, Asami decides that they've had enough conversation for now; clamping a hand down on Takaba's mouth, hovering to press his own against Takaba's ear and speaking to it, husky sounds travelling right to the photographer's groin.

 

"Indeed, you can say that. You should…"

 

A tip of a high-bridged nose moves along a pale neck; drifting downwards until it lifts up and gives it's turn to a wet muscle – most times spiteful, at times sweet; but always, always wicked.

 

"…know by now…"

 

The ripping sound of a shirt; the unfastening sound of a zipper.

 

As Asami's appendage follows the line of Takaba's toned abdominals, dips into a hidden navel and swirls around; a nearly inaudible moan paints the air. Dark and light green boxers pushed down just enough to free the throbbing flesh.

 

A smile against bare skin. Lips trailing down, down; lingering now at the base of a straining cock. A sudden long lick all the way up. And then, a brief kiss to the head,

 

"…just what tricks my tongue can do. Akihito."

 

Takaba's eyes can't leave the sensual sight in from of him and, before any last minute protest could be voiced, his length is engulfed whole in that searing moist cavern; sending a shock of pleasure so intense he can feel his skin trying to crawl from his muscles – just so he can feel him raw.

 

And before his mind blanked out completely under the pleasurable ministrations, Takaba's last clear judgment was that—

 

Fuck yeah; Asami really is a fucking magician.

 

 

* * *

 

[JenovaVII]

CHAPTER II (part two)

 

Gulp It Down; Lick Your Lips Clean

 

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

Four o'clock.

 

Asami glances at his wrist watch with boredom and, as he rests his elbow back on the desk, he lets his hand brush his neck and rub at a tense shoulder. He woke up at six a.m., took a shower and drove the office; leaving a snoring mess of sprawled limbs by the name of Akihito entangled in white satin bed sheets.

 

One legal business meeting and two not-so-legal dealings later, Asami leans back on his midnight black reclining chair, turning his head and glancing outside through the wall-sized window glass. The sun shining strongly. People overpopulate the city ; rushing everywhere; to the mall, to the park, to their jobs, to their homes – rushing through their lives.

 

Routine.

 

Raising himself up, Asami slides a finger into the tight knot of his dark red-blood tie, relieving the pressure and seducing it to unfold for him.

 

A knock at the door and Kirishima is asking permission to come inside. At a velvety voice, entry is granted; and as his right-hand man walks forward carrying a mountain of papers, Asami well-nigh wants to grumble.

 

Parading that pile of documents around and looking like his enjoying himself.

 

Kirishima lays the white sheets on the free space Asami's desk has to offer and, if he notices the murderous look his employer directs at the innocent remnants of a once tree, he doesn't show any outward reaction to it.

 

Quietly waiting beside the book shelves on the right side, Kirishima remains silent until Asami seats himself once again and clicks his ballpoint pen, ready to start signing what needed to be signed.

 

Minutes pass by peacefully; a glass protected pair of eyes read-proofing the documentation both before and after Asami has gone through them. The last signature scribbled Asami fishes around the pocket of his jacket – draped on the back of the chair – for his pack of cigarettes.

 

None left.

 

As Kirishima seems ready to excuse himself and go fetch another one, Asami stops him with a sign of his hand. Opening the second drawer on the left side of the desk and pushing aside his Colt Dragoon, he takes out an virgin pack.

 

Cancer stick threatening to fall down from barely apart set of lips; he's still searching for his zippo in the depths of his trouser pockets as a lighter flicks a flame in front of the cigarette – Kirishima's hand attached to it.

 

A nod in thanks and smoke starts poisoning the air in the room.

 

The glasses guy – as Takaba, in a seemingly affectionate manner, likes to call him occasionally – returns his lighter to its respective place on his own breast pocket and collects the papers in his arms again.

 

I really can't help but think he loves those things.

 

While amusing himself, Asami takes a long drag; inhaling and letting the smoke flutter inside his lungs for a moment before expelling it. He plucks the cigarette from his lips and lets his hand come to rest on the keyboard of his laptop.

 

Kirishima stands on the same spot, unmoving. Looking at his first assistant, Asami knows there's something he wants to say. He gazes at him, encouraging him to get on with it.

 

With a low rumble, Kirishima cleans his throat and straightens his back,

 

"Boss. I think there is someone stalking Takaba-kun."

 

No response – the sign to continue on. Without formalities.

 

Unhesitant is the best way to go about it. A manicured indicator pushes a pair of spectacles upward until it fits perfectly on the nose bridge, as it should at all times. Kirishima puts down the previously (and probably still) not very welcomed priority-organized documents again on top of the polished desk, beside the laptop, and further from the whiskey filled glass and the ashtray.

 

Kirishima relaxes his shoulders and cracks his back. Tension flows out from his muscles like lightening crashing the skies on stormy nights.

 

"I've discussed this with Suoh this morning, Asami-sama. We agree that it might be of some concern. There were only three times, in the last four months, that there occurred close contact between this individual and Takaba-kun. We deemed it natural; after all, we live in such a metropolis – people come across each other every day, unknowingly. However, this person still arouses some suspicious in us both and we decided to come forward with it, even though it might be a simple gut feeling on our part."

 

Asami ponders momentarily but there is no need to revolve around it too much – Kirishima isn't one to have his instincts failing him; Suoh following suit.

 

"Do what you deem fit. Inform me of every relevant factor."

 

Kirishima knows those words well, they are as close to I trust you as he'd ever got and continue to get in form of words. He appreciates them immensely.

 

At that the issue is dealt with, for the time being; so he gathers the damned – by Asami – papers once more. Kirishima bows in respect and, making it to the door, his shoes make a graceful spin back around and he directs a hard gaze at his boss,

 

"Asami-sama."

 

Asami glances at Kirishima, giving him the go-ahead,

 

"It's almost evening. Having not eaten anything since early morning, getting something to eat by now would be the most prudent."

 

"Hm."

 

And that was enough of an answer, for Kirishima walks out – with a satisfied expression, if you dig out his impeccable facade first – and would surely be coming back in few minutes with a meal so exquisite it would make up for a whole month of delayed lunches.

 

Always behaving and talking like a mother. Of all the habitudes to develop…

 

Ah well –

 

At least he doesn't iron my damned boxers anymore.

 

A truly entertained chuckle betrays the otherwise soundless division.

 

 

* * *

 

[Belita]

*__*

 

Me wants one of those.........

Can i have him?!

 

So freakin' hot....Damn

[JenovaVII]

  Belita said:

*__*

 

Me wants one of those.........

Can i have him?!

 

So freakin' hot....Damn

 

 

Thank you, Bela. I'm glad you're liking it. (:

 

P.S.: Nope, you can't have them/him. -evil snicker-

[sarah3161]

wow O_O your really good , i am not flattering you but telling u what i think

because you really did imitated those 2, keep up the good work

i am copying it ..for myself.

Don't worry i won't sell your work

[JenovaVII]

  sarah3161 said:

wow O_O your really good , i am not flattering you but telling u what i think

because you really did imitated those 2, keep up the good work

i am copying it ..for myself.

Don't worry i won't sell your work

 

Yeah wow... Thank you, Sarah, it's really good to know you're enjoying the read.

That last part made me laugh; I doubt you'd make any profit with it.

[JenovaVII]

CHAPTER III

 

Rain. Droplet. Puddle. Lake. Sea. Ocean.

 

Chapter rating: R, for language and sexual situations.

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

Remaining at Asami’s side at all times being Kirishima’s imperturbable duty, Suoh not being an expert at discretion or subtlety for rather obvious reasons; Kurosaki is the one carefully chosen and dispatched to do they bidding.

 

Kurosaki is one of the youngest at Asami’s service; he’s a smart kid, trained by Kirishima during his first years at the organization and Kirishima can say he’s quite proud of his kouhai. Kurosaki doesn’t feel especially happy when his missions have to do with Takaba, for it’ll certainly lead to a kind of trouble completely different than it was supposed to at first glance. There is no room for discussion, regardless: Asami-sama’s orders are absolute.

 

So after being thoroughly instructed of what he had to do by Kirishima, Kurosaki got rid of his suit, dressed in his casual clothes and mounted his motorbike, driving to the location the target is currently staying at that Suoh actualizes him on via auricular. A tasteless love hotel in the red-light district. The lights currently turned off probably shine and flicker as soon as the sun disappears in the sky, illuminating wildly and screaming silently for attention, the characters which ironically read ‘Kakushi’.

 

Kurosaki takes off his helmet and proceeds to the store right in front of the motel’s front door. It was already open even at such as early hour and he found some consolation in the fact that it was a rather common café; it had an outdoor seating so he could just sit and down a cup of coffee while waiting for the target to come out of the door without an ounce of suspicion falling on him.

 

A rather strong breeze arises and his reddish hair flutters a bit with it. He smiles politely at the blushing waitress that brings him his drink and settles himself comfortably on the plastic chair. A swift confirmation of his position leaves his lips as he sips the dark liquid from the white china piece.

 

- - -

 

The day of the ascertainment of the products to be sold in the auction came. And passed.

 

Takaba is pissed.

 

Asami had efficiently taken hold of and maneuvered the data he acquired from him and then, using his connections, gained knowledge of the date when the actual validation would be made happen, allowing him to infiltrated his men inside without arousing any suspicions. The yakuza hadn’t bothered to share the info with him, as he more than made clear that he wanted nothing of Takaba being involved in such dealings.

 

Takaba is fucking pissed.

 

Making his way to the bathroom, he slams the door shut, locking it from the inside,

 

Better be safe than sorry.

 

Takaba had been making a point of ignoring Asami as much as he possibly could, given the circumstances. He knew he was being childish but it’s not like he could do much else; so he resorted to venting his frustrations by snarling at Asami, cursing the man to death and calling him names that came to his mind as naturally as he snaps photographs.

 

Although he has been doing his best, Asami isn’t minimally fazed by his antics. If he stops cleaning the house Asami will just call the maid; it was her job in the first place, to whom Takaba will then have to apologize to and send away because he doesn’t want anyone touching his cameras and besides, he enjoys doing the chores. And said chores include cooking. So when he started to cook only for himself in a futile attempt to starve Asami, the older man would either eat out or make his own meal, which only served to enrage Takaba all more so, because he enjoyed cooking for the other.

 

However many ways he thought of to get a one up on Asami it would always come back to bite him in the ass with teeth twice as sharp. And that was exactly what lead to the situation at hand; Takaba had started to sleep in his original bedroom and would lock the door at night so Asami wouldn’t be able to come in. He knew it was an extremely stupid idea, aside from Asami being in possession of the key, even if Takaba left his own copy trapped in the keyhole, he had no doubt that Asami had the power to kick the door open on the spot, or even call someone to take it down in his stead just so he wouldn’t have to move his mighty ass. Having all that in consideration, Takaba was genuinely surprised – and maybe terrified – when Asami didn’t do anything about it and simply went to sleep without even acknowledging Takaba’s presence; or lack thereof.

 

The situation had dragged itself until the present day. One week. One week of Takaba’s miserable pouting and, by now, no more than fake anger. One week of abstinence.

 

Takaba really, really was fucking damn pissed. And sexually fucking frustrated.

 

Resigning himself to his dreadful fate, Takaba rubs his eyes with a towel after splashing water over his face, waking himself up. Stretching on his way to the kitchen, Takaba covers his mouth with the back of one hand, stifling a yawn. Asami was already awake, going around with only a pair of boxers on.

 

He’s doing it on purpose, the bastard.

 

Opening the cupboard and pulling out his cereal box, Takaba starts preparing his breakfast. Asami comes back into view; the man is now sliding his white shirt over his broad shoulders, which give way to that neckline that Takaba just wants to bury his face in and—

 

White wetness rains down on his bare feet and Takaba expresses his disapproval with a tsk at the mess he made all over the counter and all the way onto the floor, too occupied enjoying the view to realize the milk overflowing from the bowl.

 

“It’s not my fault. Not my fault. Not mine.”

 

Takaba seems to be having a rather uncivilized monologue of self-deprecation, which Asami finds the most entertaining. Tie dropped around his neck, Asami passes by the living room to have access to the bathroom and says his good mornings to a sleepy messy head who was currently sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table. Elbow supported on the couch, Takaba replied with a mumbling grumble while munching around a spoon left inside his mouth, his hand busy zapping through the channels with the remote control.

 

Asami gels his dark hair back in front of the mirror. On his way back, his hands come to the velvet ribbon that falls down on his chest. His hands are batted away by Takaba, who is now standing in front of him wearing a scowl. With a haunting expression, Takaba’s movements are harsh but still competent, making fast work of the knot. When he is finished, he pats the cloth to Asami’s chest with far more strength than what was necessary and, without any words, resumes his camping on the floor and picks up his bowl, slurping noisily and the residual drop of milk that still accumulates at the bottom.

 

Amused by the younger man’s actions, Asami finishes getting dressed in the bedroom. He takes his jacket in one arm and leaves it hanging around a chair, as he picks his gun holster from the glass table near the door and puts it on.

 

Takaba does his dishes and absently scratches his butt cheek, hand dipping under his underwear. Deciding to get dressed too, Takaba makes his way to his own bedroom.

A hand suddenly grabs his upper arm and turns him around. He’s ready to fight back but Asami is faster; in a flow motion Asami hoists him up and places him on the dining table, kissing him hard. Takaba, being the complex case that he is, always has his storm before the calm so, after the resistance phase where he painfully punches Asami’s jaw, bites his own lips close to deny the other entrance and forces his nails on Asami’s scalp, grabbing his locks to keep him at bay; he finally relents. The tongue against him is persistent and enticing and he permits it to delve inside; hands previously pushing away are now pulling the other man closer and Takaba wants nothing more than to be screwed right there, as he spells heatedly against the lips glued to his own,

 

“I—Hate—You.”

 

Chuckling vibrations transfer right from its original source into Takaba, leaving his sensitive flesh tingling. He wants to undo the velvety piece he just tied around Asami’s neck and snap the buttons of Asami’s shirt open, sending them flying through the air, but his malicious plans are destroyed as the older man pulls back, denying Takaba of the warmth of his body,

 

“I have to go now. Behave yourself, Akihito.”

 

Takaba, still lying on the table, supports himself in one arm and gives the other man a nasty stare while offering him an obscene gesture with one hand; one middle finger up, four remaining fingers down.

 

As he closes the door behind him, Asami knows the scene he just witnessed will most likely be the highlight of his day.

 

- - -

 

On the phone Kou and Takato said they’d wait for him at the entrance but Takaba tells them that he’s a bit late and for them to go inside first. He runs all the way from the penthouse to the front of the brown painted building, feinting and dodging his driver for the day en route. He’s already sweating from every pore when he joins his two friends in the privacy of the locker room.

 

It was rare for the three of them to get a day off together, so the day before they had agreed they would go to the public swimming pool to have some aquatic fun. Kou was already making mischief on the diving board, not without slipping his foot while running like a fool and falling on his ass on the way there. Rolling their eyes at the brunette’s idiocy, Takato and Takaba look at each other and start laughing heartily, while approaching the border of the pool.

 

Splashing sounds and happy voices all around, Takaba focuses on making the best out of the day.

 

After swimming and diving their lungs out for a few hours, Takato says he’s getting hungry, accentuated by the rumbling sound coming from his middle, and uses up his remaining energy trying to pull Kou out of the water. Deciding on having some ramen, they take their time downing their noodles and chatting away.

 

Belly full, Takaba lets a sigh escape him as he recalls his morning and muses that having an undressed Asami having fun with him on the pool would have been even more gratifying, which leads him to travel to memories of the past when Asami had lured him to his beach side located hotel and their activities that night in the room as well as the morning after in the pool. Shaking his head to chase away both arousing and irritating thoughts, Takaba realizes his friends are looking at him curiously. Kou is the first to voice a question,

 

“Out with it, Aki. What’re you thinkin’ about?”

 

“Yes, even Kou noticed you’re drifting away so… should we be worried?”

 

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean, Takato?!”

 

Takaba snickers and guzzles a mouthful of his orange juice. Cleaning a droplet with one hand, not letting it fall down his chin and stain his shirt, Takaba shrugs lightly,

 

“Nah, everything’s fine. Just some stuff at home.”

 

“Has anything happened with Asami-san? You guys fought?”

 

“Eh?! A fight, really?! What about? When? What did yo—”

 

A duet of voices cut him off,

 

“Shut up, Kou!”

 

“We didn’t fight. Kinda. He’s just being stupid and teasing me, that’s all.”

 

Kou clicks his tongue and falls back on the chair, crossing his arms. Narrowing his eyes and pouting, he mutters, sounding annoyed,

 

“Ahh, what… it’s just the usual then!”

 

A slap to the head.

 

“Ow!”

 

“I told you to shut up, Kou.”

 

“If it’s nothing grave it’s okay but… do you want to talk about it?”

 

Takaba’s half lidded eyes are cast on the ground. A sudden impact of skull on the wooden surface of the table startles Kou, as well as some people from the tables near theirs, who dismiss it right away as young people, these days, and return to their respective meals and conversations.

 

A muffled mumble. Takato chuckles,

 

“We can’t understand anything with you talking like that, Akihito.”

 

Without lifting his head up, Takaba turns it to the side so his mouth won’t be sloshed on the table. He repeats his words,

 

“…’m horny…”

 

The wind blows and whistles for a moment, as if cleaning the air to the explosion of laughter that takes place next; once again attracting the attention of the people around who, this time, whisper something about one of the young men having a fever, his face is just too red.

 

- - -

 

“Asami-sama, the research on the stalker.”

 

Kirishima informs as he sets a folder on Asami’s desk.

 

“Summarize.”

 

“Certainly. The man is a foreigner of American nationality, or so his fake documents claim. We haven’t yet been able to obtain his true identity. Going by the name of Paul Miller, 55 years old, he has undergone multiple surgeries, most of them facial reconstructing ones, as well as others mentioned in the report. As far as we could go until now he had done most of them in Europe and we don’t possess yet any records of his real face. We contacted the clinic where he had the first operation and were informed that he appeared already disfigured, his face slashed all over. Attacked and robbed, he had lost all documentation. He then managed to forge his papers and has been living as Miller since a few months ago, just before he first set foot in Japan. Photos of his current appearance are attached on the last pages.”

 

“Hm. Keep searching for his real identity, Kirishima. Tighten the security around Takaba; put more people on it but make it more disperse, protect him from the distance. Let us give this man the chance to show his true colors. If he really is stalking Takaba he must be aware of the bodyguards around him, as well as waiting for an opening. We’ll give him one.”

 

“Are you planning on informing Takaba-kun of the situation, boss?”

 

“It would be wise to do so, although… His bad temperament has been escalating the last couple of days so he’ll surely do something foolish if he learns about it at this stage. We’ll be keeping him out of it for now.”

 

“Understood.”

 

After Kirishima leaves the room, Asami handles a glass of amber liquid and feels the alcohol burn on the way down as he leafs through the folder he was given.

 

- - -

 

The sound of the front door being opened and closed doesn’t alert Takaba of the arrival of another person in the house but the stepping thuds that follow do. It doesn’t make him still his actions; instead, it makes him speed up. He tightens his grip on his length, sliding his palm up and down, fingers griping and occasionally probing and the tiny opening located at the tip. His free hand his support, flat against the glassy tiles that coat the inside walls of the bathroom, as his entire body is being rained upon. Staying under the shower, warm droplets lick his skin on the way down from his wet bangs, glued to his face; to his feet, curling toes with the pleasure running through him.

 

He notices the steps coming in his direction now, after having entered the room next door and shuffling around for a few minutes. His breath itches, the area below his stomach contracting deliciously with the concentration of arousal. A moan is heard between the clouds of condensation colonizing the room,

 

“Nnngh, Asami…”

 

Takaba can’t hear the steps anymore which can only mean one thing and, slowly, lets his eyelids separate. A tall figure comes into view, leaning elegantly on the door frame – door which he had conveniently left wide open,

 

“You called?”

 

* * *

 

[Matti_19]

The chapter is really good! At least it worthed our wait

[Belita]

Hi hi hi Takaba's horny....

 

Man, it was so good

[JenovaVII]

Thank you, Matt~ Thank you, Bela~

 

I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. (:

[JenovaVII]

Chapter IV

 

Lifestream

 

Chapter rating: R, for language and implied and/or sexual situations; tentative of rape, non-con

 

 

 

A.N.: Every non-explained appearances, not-properly-introduced characters and enigma-like sentences are on purpose. It will be explained later. Probably. (At least it's supposed to.) Although I think I suck at it and it's so obvious and— Four cats sleeping in my room; one cat sleeping on the chair, one cat sleeping on my bed, one cat sleeping at my feet, one cat sleeping on my lap. Now I need my daily dosage of One Piece. Mystery dosage. All hail chapter four.

 

Confession: I mistyped 'Tabaka', not only once during the writing of this chapter but twice. (Had never done it before, surprisingly.) I mean; sure, he is indeed an idiot but… Oh well.

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

 

After that day they couldn't seem to be able to get the info where the real thing was going to take place; only when you know what to look for, everything is easier. So when Takaba hears the next morning at the journal all the rumble about this huge party, he has no doubts it was what he was looking for. He jumps in, claiming the job as his, and comes out victorious in a heartbeat – no one can take down a determined Akihito; his colleagues had learned that lesson the hard way.

Self-survival is the next priority after a good scoop, so he hijacks his cellphone from his jeans' back pocket and as he makes his way to the director's office to get a hold of every detail he needs, the photographer punches the phone's touch screen with his fingers; with it letters start appearing on the screen.

 

morning sunshine. have a party to cover. its gonna be a blast

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Asami cringes at the infuriating vibrations; loud and propagating the sound wildly through the wood, as the source of it is having seizures on top of the bedside table. Eyes forced open gaze at the message received before closing almost immediately and sleepy, blind hands fight to tap a response.

 

Dn whatyou want. Be prepared for the consequences.

 

Such a stubborn little thing.

 

And then, as abruptly as he as he has been shaken awake, Asami falls back asleep.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

All in all, Takaba was only supposed to have taken pictures at the warehouse and be done with it. But no, oh no; this was Takaba Akihito, fearless photographer, so he went with the flow and ended up where he is now – at the doors of the mansion of some big shot dirty old man who's going to host the auction under the pretense of a birthday party.

 

x-x-x

 

His pervert-sensor is howling; gazes traverse his back like hungry wolves and, had he been outside right now, being cornered in a dark alley, he would have been able to vent his anger accordingly. Only he was not. So the only favorable solution was to play along.

 

This might just be my chance.

 

In a slow motion, his head turns; shorts threads of light brown hair swaying with boredom, the rest of his body following shortly. His observer is smiling charmingly, clearly appreciating his front as much as he probably did his back.

 

Takaba wants to just get the deed done with fast, but he won't rush it too much and risk letting the opportunity go to waste.

 

A coy smile rips gently across his still boyish features; feet guiding him backwards until his lean backside encounters the obstacle that is the buffet table. Takaba casually prompts a finger inside the cream bowl, coating the digit with the sweet, soft substance and swiping it across his bottom lip before his tongue peeks out and licks; first his lip, then his finger, finally welcoming the latter to delve inside his mouth. His eyes burn; never falling shut nor losing its fire. He releases his indicator with a barely alive wet sound.

 

A sigh escapes his lips and he makes his way to one of the verandas; all the while thinking that he should be far more bothered about the obscene acts he manages to come up with – after being defiled by Asami for so many years – coming so in handy for his scoops.

Propping his arm on the white railing, Takaba hears the sound of the sliding door behind him; signaling the start of the second act.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The weather is horrid outside; the scorching heat and the humidity, which clung to people and objects alike, feels as unappealing as it sounds.

 

A man occupying his satin-pillowed sofa, a pipe decorating his lips – a beautiful design, one might say, with all the detail it entailed it was certainly a handmade piece; one of a kind even, the color that of pure honey when still nectar, and a delicate appearance that betrayed shamelessly its sturdy structure. His elegant feet descend from the softness of the mattress to touch the lukewarm floor at the arrival of another man in the room.

 

The newcomer bows in reverence before proceeding into dialogue.

 

"We have found him."

 

"At last. Where was he; in the gambling house after all, I presume?"

 

The tone is disinterested, but at the entrance of the servant the master places his pipe down and assumes a more dignified position.

 

"Yes. The female staff was making quite a ruckus so we finally managed to get to him before he slipped away again."

 

"Hm, well done."

 

Regarding his master, the suited man's eyebrows shift almost imperceptibly, not quite frowning, and if he would, his long bangs would deny the one-man-public the sight of it.

 

"He... requests to see you personally. What would you have me do?"

 

"Nothing I was not already anticipating. Bring him here."

 

x-x-x

 

"Thank you for having me, it's been quite a while, hasn't it F— Oh my, what happened to your… in your head..?"

 

Hands groping with practiced ease everywhere around the blonde's body, the servant makes sure, once again, that the man is not armed. Being who it is, it's not daring to think him to be more than capable to pop a gun out of nowhere; his tricky nature not being one to be taken lightly.

 

"I had it cut; can you not even understand such a thing? Years pass by and your idiocy is still unchanged. Moreover, do not waste my time with your games; my property never was and is still not your playground."

 

"Bù gǎn dāng. Your beauty is unblemished as well."

 

Ignorance is bliss. Putting it to use is for the best.

 

"So? What is your business here?"

 

Slightly long nails tapping impatiently on the arm of the sofa; a minimal knocking sound being born from it. Long legs cross and the stare directed at the blond demands answers.

 

"Uwa, so cold. But I don't mind, it reinforces your attractiveness. And it is exactly as you say; I'm actually here for serious business. It's just that it'll get boring soon enough so I thought I'd greet you cheerfully before that. Was it not to your liking?"

 

"What kind of business?"

 

"You know... ignoring one's questions and choosing to get only your own answers out of this isn't exactly what we can call a civilized conversation. By the way, I see you have a soft spot for puppy eyes, in the end; there is a dog who bit his owner's hand right there, at the door."

The third man looks over to search for a reaction but his taunting has no effect; said 'dog's' stare is as blank as it can be. His calm attitude and perfect standing are worthy of reward.

Unlike the servant, the master retaliates; his chin elevating and marking the blond with a piercing eye-lock.

 

"It has nothing to do with you how I decide to act and who I decide to forgive. You're quite curious, always meddling into other's people's problems; ever since before. And just so you know, I wasn't his true owner before. Though I am now."

 

The possessiveness embedded in those words would not, could not pass by unseen.

 

The blonde looks from the changshan wearing male to his servant and then back again. Every drop of amusement slips away from his grasp and a heavy expression comes in its place.

 

"My, my. I kind of knew it would turn out this way after witnessing that final touching scene, on that day, but still... how boring. My happy-time is crushed."

 

His playfulness gone, his idiotic air seems to be lock itself away and a serious persona takes over.

"Let's talk about making money then."

 

The first man's face allows a smirk.

 

If you were always like this, you wouldn't be so irritating.

 

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the second man knows it's his cue to go.

 

"If you will excuse me, I will take my leave now".

 

"Stay."

 

Comes the unexpected order. Only it does not sound like one. His stoic façade does not show anything but his mouth does not pronounce any words either.

 

"..."

 

And the third man is equally impressed.

 

"Oh my."

 

"Stay."

 

It had come once and now it came twice. It's not a question and if it were. it would be an only-one-answer-possible kind of question. The servant could never be able to deny his master anything.

 

"Yes."

 

Opium plays the pacifier and silently embraces the three men in the room, coating them in clouded smoke.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Takaba still can't believe how easy it had been for the man to spill his guts about what was basically happening downstairs; but then again, given that he was as drunk as a fermented grape sunbathing it really wasn't surprising in the least.

 

Disappointment snorts its way out of his system as he steps down the spiral stairs.

 

On the way down, Takaba gets rid of his bow tie and some of his top shirt buttons are abducted from its respective cases, the loosened cloth offering ample view to his creamy skin. Eyes gazing down, Takaba takes notice of the living gargoyle standing guard at the seemingly harmless door to the cellar. The sight of the creature causes him to scrounge his nose unpleasantly,

 

Suoh is much more intimidating and this guy is one head taller and at least twice his width.

 

Making use of the card his 'benefactor' had slipped into one of the back pockets of his trousers – with the promise of an exciting and unforgettable night; he had said – Takaba digs the object out of the confinement and shows it to the man blocking his path. Receiving a blunt look-over and grunt in response, the door is opened for him to pass through.

 

Before he can stop himself, a whistle of air and sound escapes from him as he absorbs the surrounding sight. Past the distressed cave-slash-attic look-a-like, the richness of this hidden division of the house far surpasses the one located on the upper floor; it belongs in a completely different category and, although the people here are dressed equally well, just as neatly as the ones above – what with their formal attires – in here they shine far brighter.

 

Such contrast.

 

The impressive decorations composing the space; paintings of consecrated artists from all art styles clung to the walls in a competition of color and exotic diversity and yet capable of meshing in harmony without losing its grace. The carpeted floor – the dirt the expensively dressed walk upon. And surely, the quality of the food and beverages would not lose to its quantity.

 

Takaba isn't entirely sure if the room had such a big impact due to him having passed through such a vulgar-looking hall on the way, in between the two astonishing divisions, or if the knowledge of what to expect from such a place is throwing his observation skills out of balance.

 

x-x-x

 

Not fazed but still disgusted, Takaba swallows the lump in his throat, courtesy of the sight tunneling through his viewfinder: dozens of people, both genders and some in between, of all ages and races being examined with the naked eye – less human than a microscope –thoroughly; before being sold like objects. The adults and elders would be used until every drop of sweat had been drained from them, shouldering any and every type of hard labor imposed on them, and as guinea pigs for drug testing; while children and teens would be sexually explored until with one or many diseases harbingers of slow death.

 

The variety of people buying is just as diverse as the ones being purchased; respectable gentlemen become filthy bastards, fine ladies become evil bitches, cute youths become nasty bullies. Upstairs, in the light of the city, the masquerades are worn without flaws, but it is in the depths of the underground that the wheels of reality freely turn.

 

Eyes devoid of life; the reflection of the will to fight having abandoned the abused bodies.

Takaba has an slim idea of what these people might have gone through, as well as the depraved things reserved for them in the near future. Fingers curls instinctively, tight around the dark gray machinery; the cold of the inanimate object on his warm skin giving him the unspoken reminder of his position.

 

Retrieving his mini camera to the hidden safe-house that is his sleeve, the photographer takes a deep breath and lets his hands smooth his suit on the way to his trouser pockets, lunging into the opening, allowing his slightly trembling digits to wriggle around in the safety of the cool fabric.

 

As he forces himself to relax, Takaba thumps the heel of his shoe into the wall behind him and surges from behind the round entry of gypsum pillars. Accepting a flute of champagne from the passerby waiter; unexpressive face, mechanic movements, recorded phrased all ending in 'goshujin-sama' nailed into his brain – a perfect example of an already trained and capable servant. Still, the professionally self-denied twitch in his eye betrays his indifferent stance. The possibility of the waiter having experienced such an auction first-hand was rising, climbing to the roof like a stealthy spider.

 

Excusing himself with a deep bow of the head, the waiter leaves Takaba to his own devices, carrying one less glass on the tray.

 

Hazel eyes follow the stiff figure that continued to dance across the room, serving alcohol filled recipients to the occasional guest. Lips touch transparent solid, light yellowish liquid drips down to the inside of his mouth; Takaba gurgles and lets the bitterness seethe his discontentment with the situation.

 

The way the people behave, as if they are shopping for groceries to make a family dinner at home, with such naturalness and no sense of right and wrong whatsoever, might be the most frightening and heart wrenching of it all. Were Takaba to ignore the presence of the human cattle for a moment, everything would seem natural; right. People enjoying themselves, the company of others, the meal and the drinks, appreciating the art; between the detailed broken pieces of stone that gave birth to amazing sculptures and the lulling tone of classical music enthralling everyone in the room into a comfortable atmosphere.

 

It was repulsive.

 

While the upper class parties and celebrates, eats and drinks, talks and laughs, flirts and fornicates, the lower class lies in waits and agonizes, starving and thirsting, clamping their mouths shut with fear of having their tongues cut off in cold blood, if not beaten and raped and humiliated relentlessly before being allowed to die.

 

Takaba puts his empty glass to rest on the nearest table and, making sure he doesn't have the attention of anyone, unhurriedly crosses the room in direction of the entry obscured by a voluptuous salmon colored curtain at the southwest end.

 

He would have mentally boasted about his awesome ninja skills but he's feeling much too pissed off to delve on it; especially after having arrived at his destination and standing there quietly. The memories coming back, gradually; everything sinking in.

 

The products exposed on the other room were restrained, some with chains, others with ropes, most likely all drugged, if the cloudy gazes were anything to go by. The ones in this room were not restrained by any of that. They were secluded, trapped in cages; singular tiny cages, where the average adult person was barely able to fit in, others slightly larger, where under aged children were thrown together and sloshes, to ensure no space was left unattained.

 

At least I could move freely when I was inside one.

 

As the sarcastic thought cracks a creepy chuckle from him, Takaba scorns himself for the tasteless sense of humor he has developed and, seeking relief, takes a minute to curse Asami and blame everything on him – it always allows him to make peace with his self after doing it, so fuck reasonable.

 

It takes him a while to notice, possibly because all his focus was on the sight in front of him as soon as he entered the concealed space, but the sound inside this room was loud.

 

Deafening.

 

Screams and roars and cries fill the space and resonate against the walls. No pleads – not anymore, at least. Just the manifestation of the repressed frustration, anger, revolt, hate. There is nothing to plead for, ask for, beg for; these people know they would never be helped. Still, they rebel as much as they can.

 

The noise of wounded creatures; worse than fingernails scraping chalkboard.

 

This division is sound-proofed, Takaba realizes. There is no room for the lovely music playing outside in here; in this torture-ring of hell. And there is no room for badly-behaved wild beasts on a room full of nothing but flamboyant peacocks.

 

These people aren't drugged like the others; they are being cruelly allowed to perceive; to understand where they were, what would happen soon, that they are weak and unable to escape. Allowed to get acquainted with the agony and fear that would accompany them for as long as they permitted to live, from now on.

 

His face impassive, Takaba takes his time; snapping picture after picture. The expressions on their faces portraying unimaginable misery. It's then that something catches his attention. A thud; then muffled voices.

 

Identifying the direction from which the sound comes from, Takaba approaches carefully; his steps silent as the sound grows more pronounced. A low tunnel-like corridor appears in from of him and Takaba needs to lower his head to be able to pass through.

 

He could hear it clearly now, so when he got face to face with it there was no surprise showing on his face. Tapping the man three times on his shoulder with one hand, his other one closes into a fist and pulls back; waiting. The man doesn't flinch, not alarmed in the least with Takaba's appearance. Eyeing the photographer with just the corner of his eye, his first words come out slurred.

 

"Ya wanna join in?"

 

Eyes wide open, flooding in tears. Torn cloth to show naked, under-developed chest. Underwear pushed down, still clinging to one ankle. No blood anywhere. Turning his vision to the man once more, Takaba notices the opened clasp of his belt and nothing else out of order. No damage done.

 

"Yeah, I'll be joining in. But you're dropping out first."

 

The waiting was worth it and Left Hook happily smashes against the other's face. Before the other can retaliate, Takaba does the same with his right fist.

 

Stumbling a bit backwards, the man lifts a hand to his face, gripping the end of his long sleeved shirt and staining the light-blue with red as he not-so-gently cleans the blood running down from his nose. As the scarlet liquid drips from his nostrils it seems to rush to his head as well, as he charges like a furious bull against Takaba. A punch well aimed but the other's jaw dodges it and only his cheek is abraded.

 

As he side-skips, Takaba notices of the wall clock and it's proved to not be a good opportunity to look at the time when he fails to completely evade the other's knuckle. With a click of the tongue, more annoyed that he is running out of time than to having taken a hit, the younger of the two grabs the other's collar shirt in a motion much too sudden, and head-butts him into the wall.

Damage from both sides of the brain and the to-be-rapist is K.O. Though Takaba doubts he even has one brain to begin with.

 

Dropping to his knees, the blonde knows better than to approach carelessly; instead, he takes off his suit jacket and, maintaining a distance, hands it to the girl. She has stopped sobbing now, bubbly tears pooling at the corners of her so very red eyes. She looks at him.

 

Without breaking eye contact she reaches a hand, trembling but unhesitant. Takaba smiles.

 

The girl takes hold of the clothing and slips it around herself, buttoning it up clumsily; never stopping looking at him. Takaba really smiles now, and her eyes abandon the fear. She starts crying now, rivers flowing freely.

 

One knee, then the other, Takaba comes close to her. One hand, then the other, he hugs her gently. She snuggles and cries and hiccups and soon she's sneezing – probably because of the cologne he borrowed from Asami – and he can't help but let a small laugh jump out.

She seems to freeze, and then she stirs a bit, and then she pushes back a little. And she's looking at him again.

 

Takaba takes his time to really glance at her now; she can't be more the fourteen or fifteen, and her features have nothing Asian to them. She can't be called pretty or cute; her lines are hard and perfectly symmetric, no imperfections. Like a doll, her beauty in undeniable and, at the same time, lifeless. Her ebony hair and the ivory skin are the epitome of contrast, and her ocean blue eyes entice, inducing people to wish they could just drown in the sea.

 

But spells are easily broken. That and they don't work on idiots, just like colds – which they are said to be immune against.

 

"Can you speak Japanese?"

 

Her head makes a ridiculous arc to the side and she's gazing at him like she might be thinking he's stupid. Takaba likes her already.

 

"Of course you can't. English, can you speak English?"

 

As her head comes back into a more normal position she makes to answer but, as she starts trying to talk, her throat clamps in a knot and no understandable sound can be heard. So she nods affirmatively, instead.

 

"Good. Okay. Don't worry, big brother is gonna take you out of here, okay?"

 

Another nod. Takaba looks her over and dresses her properly in the jacket. With some hesitation he touches her underwear, still pooling at one lonely foot, and as she makes no opposing reaction to it he pulls them up and back into place, and makes her as presentable as possible, given the circumstances. As he steals a glance at the clock for the second time, a curse escapes his lips.

 

A chuckle; more like a broken attempt to cough. But it was a chuckle, no doubt.

 

"You can't understand my language but you get it right away when it comes to dirty words, huh? And making fun of me already when we just met? I really do seem to attract nothing but weirdoes."

 

It's almost time

 

Takaba considers bolting instead of waiting anymore – someone could come here at any moment and it was a risk he wasn't very inclined to take. He'd have to go with acting like he was buying the kid and then, just before having to pay, he'd fly out of there only to stop at the police station; dropping down the child and the film and then he'd go home and take a bath.

 

Yeah, sounds perfect. In theory.

 

…

 

What are you, stupid? Like hell that'll work!

 

The kid wasn't originally in the equation; worse yet, she's not even a constant, she's a variable. And Takaba is all about arts; he was decent enough but he was never a genius at math. Things aren't looking very good.

 

And as if kind-of-following, kind-of-raping the script his emancipated mind struggles to formulate, a trio of officers suddenly enter the room; one after another, by the small tunnel, and Takaba feels relief poking holes in his socks.

 

They came in time, after all.

 

Only the sensation of solace is short lived, more ephemeral than a moth's life, as their guns are pointed at him.

 

"Put the child down. Put your hands in the air and walk over, slowly."

 

x-x-x

 

Havoc had been wrecked.

 

As he revisits the rooms, previously filled with light and glamour in spite of the trading taking place, they were devoid of joy. Some broken dishware and shattered glass camping here and there on the floor.

 

On the lower floor few people remained; some must have managed to escape, a few possess more than enough power to get out of it unscathed and others must already have been cuffed and taken into custody – a good number of them, if you're lucky, whispers Takaba's wishful thinking device.

 

The upper floor was cut down to half its initial population but there was still a considerable amount of guests left. Takaba wishes for them to be innocent in all this; thought for all its worth, as he is now, he wouldn't mind dragging everyone present down the gutter together with him. He had been trying to reason with the three officers and explain his situation, only they wouldn't even listen. Had they not put hand-cuffed the rapist fucker as well he really would have erupted, although he was a tad pleased that two of the officers had to carry the still unconscious man. Trash and dead weight can be useful sometimes.

 

x-x-x

 

Takaba finally breathes in the outside air. His eyes are drawn to Suoh, who is right there – looking like a guardian angel like never before – accompanied by Kurosaki, and a soft sight leaves him feeling tired; all the action of the day kicking his gut and demanding some rest.

The photographer is just thinking he is as good as free from the police, however, as Suoh pockets his phone and makes no move to come closer, Takaba is visited by a big, bad and green feeling, revolving around on his stomach. And as said blonde's lips nothing but lift a millimeter up, he knows he's fucked.

 

In the morning he'd have back aches, alright – only not the ones that come with hot, rough sex as the cause.

 

Really, Asami? The new punishment method is a night in jail? Just you wait until it comes biting you in the ass, bastard.

 

Angry tone and fierce grin contradicting each other stain Takaba's expression, as his head is forced down and he's pushed into the awaiting car. The flashy lights get switched on and the annoying siren contributes to noise pollution.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

~OMAKE~

 

On the way to the police station, Takaba amuses himself by kicking the still fucking unconscious man into oblivion.

 

Exhaling softly and getting acquainted with the back seat, Takaba lets his eyes flutter close and thumps his front head to the window glass. He mutters to himself.

 

"That must be one hell of a concussion you got there. Next time you go for a 'ride' don't forget to take your helmet, sick bastard."

 

Wait… what?

 

 

to be continued.

 

 

[鼠ドル]

Jenow, I love this story!

It's totally your style and very, very fitting for Viewfinder! I told you your writing is wonderful

I like the constant twist aand turns in the story, makes the reader want to know more.

[Miro]

I like this story very much as well

I agree with Nezu, every chapter makes you want to read more.

[JenovaVII]

Thank you for reading Nezu, Miro. I'm glad you guys are liking it. (:

[Rei]

Awesome Jenow!!! (the story, not you ) I like a lot the way you built the story so far, the dialogues, so in the Viewfinder style

[Matti_19]

Very good chapter, as I was expecting from you! Hope you'll have lots of inspiration and we won't have to wait too much for the next one.

[JenovaVII]

  Rei said:

Awesome Jenow!!! (the story, not you ) I like a lot the way you built the story so far, the dialogues, so in the Viewfinder style

 

  Matti_19 said:

Very good chapter, as I was expecting from you! Hope you'll have lots of inspiration and we won't have to wait too much for the next one.

 

 

Thank you Rei, Matt. I'll try not to disappoint in the next chapters. (:

[Belita]

You are keeping this so damn good, it pleases me deeply to come here and find A NEW CHAPTER!!!

Didn't even know you had written another ;___;

 

Damn....

 

It was delicious...as alwasy dear

Just keep them coming *__*

[JenovaVII]

  Belita said:

You are keeping this so damn good, it pleases me deeply to come here and find A NEW CHAPTER!!!

Didn't even know you had written another ;___;

 

Damn....

 

It was delicious...as alwasy dear

Just keep them coming *__*

 

Thank you, Bela. It's good to know it's keeping you interested. (:

[kiri-kun]

Do you have the last update of viewfinder? the one after Takaba akihito back to japan and relate with the stare Ai-chan ended?