Disclaimer: Viewfinder etc. belongs to Yamane Ayano. No profit is made from this work of fanfiction.

Shady Business
By: shad0wg8


Long lashes fluttered before rising, sleep-blurred hazel eyes opening to focus on the dark haired man above. An amused pair of golden eyes stared down at him, full lips tilted up in an affectionate smirk. Asami bent down, lightly pressing his lips against Akihito's, coaxing the younger man into a soft, languid kiss.

"Good morning," he murmured against the boy's lips.

Akihito mumbled a sleepy reply, lips seeking out Asami's again for another kiss. Asami welcomed it, one hand slipping through soft, sleep-mussed hair. He cupped the boy's head and deepened the kiss, his tongue darting inside to explore and taste. Akihito arched off the bed and moaned, his hands clutching at the sheets. When Asami finally let him up for air, the young man was wide awake, and sporting a substantial morning stiffy that strained against the sheet that had fallen to his hips.

"Finally up I see," Asami drawled.

Akihito blushed but didn't attempt to cover himself.

"I have to leave, but I'll see you again Sunday evening. Try to stay out of trouble until then," Asami said as he stepped back and grabbed his suit jacket.

"Right. Out-of-town business trip again," Akihito grumbled. "I still don't see why I can't go with you," he said with a pout.

"You and I both know why you can't go."

"Yeah, yeah" he replied, an impish grin tilting up the corners of his mouth. "I'll be good while you're gone, but you need to reward me for my good behavior when you get back."

"That won't be an issue," Asami chuckled, shrugging into his jacket.

"You sure you have to leave right now?" Akihito asked as he looked pointedly down at his lap.

"Regretfully, yes." Asami started through the door but paused, looking back over his shoulder. "The same rules apply as always, Akihito. No touching yourself while I'm gone. You won't like the consequences if you disobey me."

The photographer groaned and flopped back down onto the bed. He heard the front door click shut a minute later. Asami could be such a bastard sometimes.


One cold shower and a long, hot soak later, Akihito was sprawled across the overstuffed leather couch in the living room. He was sore in all kinds of interesting places. Asami had been very thorough last night. Thankfully he had the weekend free, giving his body time to recuperate and prepare for Sunday.

The buzz of his cell phone startled him and he groped blindly for the small, slim object, not wanting to move any more than necessary. He checked the screen and frowned when he saw who the caller was. Flipping the phone open he hit the accept button and raised it to his ear.


"Takaba, hey. Look, I need you to help me out. My photographer for this weekend came down with the flu and I'm sort of in a tight spot."

"And you want me to fill in?"

"Exactly. You'll do it, right?"

"You know I hate doing shots for those magazines Ito," Akihito warned, not liking where this conversation was heading.

"I know man, and I normally wouldn't ask, but I can't find anyone else on such short notice. Besides, you still owe me for that gig I got you back in March."

"Fine, but then we're even, got it?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks Takaba!"

Akihito sighed and pulled himself up of the couch to find pen and paper. He quickly jotted down the address and Ito's brief instructions. So much for having the weekend to relax and recover…


Akihito looked around himself and grimaced. He didn't even begin to know where to start. Everything was a blur of colors and sound. The adults he'd encountered so far had creeped him the hell out, so he set his sights on a child for his next potential subject. He approached the boy through the milling mass of costumed people, careful to avoid fake swords and all other manner of foam weaponry that their owners brandished about without thought or care for their fellows.

"Excuse me," he said to the back of a black haired head. "I was wondering if…" Akihito trailed off as the boy turned around, revealing large eyes set in a cherubic face.

He knew that cute little evil face.


And behind him was…

"Hello Akihito-kun. What brings you here today?"

"F-Fei-Long?" Akihito stammered, trying to take in the fact that the Chinese crime boss was here, let alone dressed up as, as… What the hell was he dressed up as? His long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, beads and baubles woven through it. Tight black breeches hugged his legs, tucked into heeled knee-high black boots. He had on a long black, robe-like jacket with large, flowing sleeves and his long fingers were covered in rings.

"You will refer to me as The Dragon while we are here."


Fei-Long's eyes narrowed.

"You shouldn't be here Akihito."

"Look, I'm just filling in for someone who was sick. I don't want any trouble or anything."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that."

A large hand covered Akihito mouth and nose, cutting off his air. He began to thrash and struggle but an arm like a band of iron wrapped around his chest and held him still. As black began to tinge his vision, the last thing he saw was Fei-Long's dark smile.


Akihito woke up to screams and shouts and the sounds of a large number of people moving about. He struggled to sit up and discovered he was bound with rope around his chest and arms, and his ankles were also secured. He looked around and felt his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"This is so not happening," Akihito whispered, watching a group of costumed people hack at each other with blunted swords and axes, one occasionally falling to the ground and "playing dead". He blinked as he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair weaving through the throng and shuddered. The sight of Mikhail Arbatov dressed as an elf would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

He was watching a massive mock battle take place. A mock battle between crime bosses dressed up as fantasy characters. Fei-Long was here. Arbatov was here. That could only mean…

"Business trip my ass," Akihito cursed, struggling against his bindings. "That bastard has been leaving me to rot at home on the weekends so he can LARP? Son-of-a-bitch!"

He tugged and twisted and fought the rope desperately, but it wouldn't budge. He was stuck trussed up like this until he could find someone to cut him loose. Sighing, Akihito began to pull his knees up to rest his head on and froze. He felt a sudden draft where there shouldn't be one. Looking down at himself he was torn between the urge to cry or laugh hysterically. They'd put him in a dress. A fucking dress!



Fei-Long fled the field of battle as he watched the last of his army being overrun by the combined forces of The Wolf and The Demon Lord. He escaped into the trees, hoping to slip by unnoticed and live to fight another day.

He skidded to a halt as a tall form stepped out from behind a tree. Blonde hair, pointy ears, impish smile…

"The Wolf," Fei-Long hissed, slowly backing away from Mikhail's steady advancement.

"The Demon Lord and I made an arrangement. You're mine now, my little black Dragon," Mikhail grinned.

His grin faltered as Yoh, dressed all in black ninja gear, dropped down from the trees, blocking Mikhail's path. He knocked the blonde man's feet out from under him and sprang to Fei-Long's side. Wrapping an arm around the Chinese man's trim waist, he threw down a pellet that erupted into a cloud of cloying black smoke. When the smoke cleared, they both were gone.

"Well damn," Mik chuckled, standing up and dusting off his breeches. "I guess I've still got competition."


"Well, what have we here?" Asami asked, walking up to a still cursing and spitting Akihito. He'd heard him earlier on in the battle, screaming his name along with a large string of expletives.

"Asami, you bastard! Untie me right now!"

"So you're the treasure that The Dragon has been hiding this whole time," Asami smirked, leaning down to scoop Akihito up.

"Asami! What the hell are you doing?" Akihito yelled; face flaming, squirming as he was thrown over the older man's shoulder still trussed up and in a dress.

"I am going to enjoy the spoils of war," Asami chuckled, giving the photographer's ass a playful smack.