Rating: R

Pairing: Asami/Akihito

Spoilers: No spoilers, but this is post Escape and Love.

Contains: mature language, sexual situations

Summary: Akihito wrestles with his demons, his conscience, and Asami.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Yamane Ayano, not me.

Author's Note: This will be a multi-chaptered fic. I'm not sure how many chapters yet.

In the dream, Asami is wearing a suit, which shouldn't be strange, except that it's not one of his expensive, three piece Italian ensembles. He still looks good in it, of course, though it's a rather drab shade of gray and it isn't tailored to fit his impressive frame to perfection. In short, it's a suit that can be found on hundreds of thousands of salarymen in Tokyo every day.

They are standing on the morning streets, ready to go their separate ways. Akihito is clutching his favorite camera, but he can't bring himself to climb on his Vespa and ride away because Asami is smiling in a way he's never seen, and it seems to throw the whole world off kilter.

He raises his camera and peers through the viewfinder. He doesn't quite understand the disappointment he feels when Asami's face looks exactly the same; softer and diminished somehow, his eyes mild and complacent. He mouths platitudes, waves, and walks off toward the station, leaving Akihito to watch his broad, gray back disappear into the crowd of nameless, faceless people.

Akihito jerks awake, the pitch black of the room assuring him of his surroundings. Asami sleeps beside him, radiating heat into which Akihito instinctively curls. An arm covers his waist, tucking him closer to Asami's solid warmth.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He buries his face into Asami's shoulder. "Weird dream."

As usual, Asami doesn't waste words. Akihito finds his knees pressed up, spread and open for his lover, his thighs sticky from their earlier exertions. Asami fucks him into the mattress; his miracle cure-all. The dark hides Akihito's smile of fierce satisfaction.

Later, drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids, with light beginning to filter through the covered windows, Akihito lies unprotesting in the circle of Asami's arms. The reassuring throb of his steady heartbeat pulsing against his ear as Akihito slowly regains his senses.

"Do you ever wish it could be different?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know...your life. I mean, instead of waking up one day and deciding, today I think I'll become a perverted, control freak crimelord, do you ever wish you'd done something different? More, you know, normal?"

Asami barked out a laugh. "Fuck no."

The profanity startled Akihito. Asami never used vulgar language. Never. His casual use of it, combined with the obvious humor in his voice made Akihito lift his head and stare at Asami in wonder. Asami was watching him knowingly, a smirk curling up one side of his mouth.

"You and I, my dear Akihito, could never be normal. No matter how hard we tried."

The words sent a curl of adrenaline and unsavory delight down into Akihito's belly, laced with a dark ribbon of pride he was certain was wrong on so many levels. He managed to cover his racing emotions with a scowl. "Don't lump me in with you, bastard."

"Why not?" Asami's fingers stroked down Akihito's stomach, heedless of the sticky residue of their coupling. "Deny it all you want, but it's true. We're kindred spirits in this matter. No pale imitation of life for us. Fight us, hurt us, make us bleed, and like the Hydra, each cut will only makes us stronger. There's nothing worse than ennui, is there, Akihito?"

Rather than answering, Akihito seriously thought about it for several moments before speaking. "There are worse things." He allowed himself a small grin as his head dropped back to Asami's chest. "But boredom is definitely up there in the top five."

Asami chuckled. "What are the other four then?"

"I'll give you a hint: number one rhymes with Pastrami."

A sharp smack to his ass made Akihito yelp, but he then dissolved into giggles. "You know you left yourself wide open for that one. Anyway, haven't I always said you're the worst?"

His world spun as Akihito found himself flipped onto his back, Asami looming over him with an alarming smirk. "So I'm the worst, am I? That's quite a reputation to live up to." His voice held a wealth of dark promise.

"Good evening, Asami-sama."

The concierge smiled and bowed as Akihito slunk through the lobby, cheeks flaming as he made his way as quickly as possible to the elevator. He had tried once to correct the man, but it seemed to have made no effect, and the next time he'd been greeted in the same way. The thought of saying something to Asami was too humiliating for words. He could just picture the mocking look that would be thrown his way. No doubt, Asami would be highly amused by Akihito being taken for Asami's...well, whatever.

Akihito sighed as the doors slid closed, and he jabbed the penthouse button rather viciously. What did it really matter anyway? Even if the man at the front desk learned to use his proper name, he'd still know something was going on between him and Asami. It wasn't like the bastard even tried to make a secret of it.

He was pretty sure homosexuality wasn't generally smiled upon in the Japanese underworld, despite the variety of high-level gangsters that seemed keen on tapping his ass. Hell, it wasn't all that accepted in the regular world, and the circles that Asami traveled in were much more likely to be filled with testosterone-fueled macho guys trying to prove their manhood. How did Asami manage to do as he liked and still maintain that level of control and to command the respect of so many?

Of course, Asami could probably make even the straightest of men waver. At least, Akihito tried to console himself with that thought when he remembered the way he'd shamelessly taken Asami's cock for hours just last night and then begged for more.

And here he was, padding back to Asami's lair of his own free will like a good little-what? Wife? Mistress? Pet? Lover? Akihito collapsed against the far wall of the elevator and groaned, scrubbing his red face with the palms of his hands.

"I have got to get out of here."

The furor over Momohara Ai had died down weeks ago. What was he still doing at Asami's? Getting complacent, allowing himself to let his guard down at least somewhat, acting almost as if he were at home. It had been surprisingly easy to get to that point.

His favorite snacks and foods had shown up in the cabinets and refrigerator. His things had been taken out of boxes and shelved or plugged in or sorted, somehow seamlessly integrating with the sharp, polished lines of Asami's penthouse, and all this without a word about it from Asami. It was too smooth, insidious, and he had just gone along with it.

Sure, he'd made of show of earning his keep, and outside of bed, thank you very much. But to tell the truth, he had allowed himself to coast along in Asami's wake, closing his eyes to everything that was oh so wrong about their relationship-whatever the hell it was supposed to be. God, he couldn't even face trying to define it right now. He really couldn't. He wasn't sure that was even possible.

He would just tell Asami soon that he was going to find an apartment of his own again. Takato and Kou would help him turn up something fast, and until then he could always count on staying with Kou.

Akihito frowned. But then he was always making trouble for his friends. Kou had put up with a lot because of him, only in part because of his association with Asami. He sighed. No, he couldn't impose on Kou again, not for that. But still, he'd go out looking for a place tomorrow since he'd wrapped up his latest job today.

His sore ass would definitely benefit from the move. There wasn't a day that went by that Asami didn't make full use of it if he was around. He resolutely ignored the ache in his chest at the thought of not waking up tangled up in Asami's warmth after a night of relentless passion and trudged from the elevator to the penthouse door.

"I'm home," he called softly, a habit he'd kept even when he lived on his own, not expecting a response as it was too early for Asami to have returned.

"Welcome home."

The smooth, rich voice startled him, and Akihito paused in the middle of toeing off his shoes and looked up with wide eyes to find Asami regarding him with faint amusement.

"What are you doing here?"

The blurted question seemed to amuse Asami even more, and his lips quirked up. "I live here."

Akihito rolled his eyes. "Always a smartass."

Asami moved forward, backing Akihito up until he hit the front door with a soft thud. "I finished things up early so I could come home and be with you."

There was no trace of sarcasm to the words, but Akihito met Asami's focused gaze uncertainly, not sure if he was being made fun of after all. When Asami's eyes dropped to his lips, he put his palms up to ward him off. "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed. "Don't you ever get tired? We did it for hours last night, and then again just this morning! What is it with you? Are you trying to kill me? There are faster ways, you know."

Warm lips took his, assaulting his senses with the feel and scent of Asami's skin. His chin was tilted up and the lips moved down his throat, a slow, sensual glide of lips and tongue and teeth. Akihito moaned, his hands curling around Asami's biceps, clutching them through the fabric of his suit jacket and pulling as rough stubble abraded his flesh.

Hot breath tickled his ear. "I could never kill you, my sweet Akihito." Asami bit gently at the spot beneath his ear that always made Akihito writhe. "Torture you slowly, perhaps, like this." He bit again, his thumb sliding across Akihito's full lower lip.

"Asami." The barely voiced whisper was a capitulation. Once again, Akihito let all his protests fall away, arching into the intoxicating touch and overwhelming presence of the man.

Both of Asami's hands came up to cup Akihito's face, and he kissed him again, slowly and thoroughly, until Akihito was hard and panting beneath it.

"I'll never tire. Not of this." One last caress, then Asami pulled away to meet Akihito's dazed eyes. A glint of amusement appeared again. "However, I really did come home to get you. I've made plans for us this evening, so we'll just have to save this for later."

Before Akihito could answer, Asami pulled him away from the door and pushed him toward the bedroom with a little pat to his ass. "Be good and go get dressed. Wear something nice."

Outrage, mixed with not a little disappointment, flooded Akihito. "Don't patronize me! And I don't recall you even asking me if I wanted to go out. Maybe I already have plans!"

"If you do, they can be canceled," was the cool reply.

Akihito growled.

"Are we really going to have to do this the difficult way, Akihito?" Asami sighed as Akihito continued to glare, then moved toward him with a measured stride.

"All right, bastard!" Akihito backed up hastily. "I'm going."

Shit. He was still hard, though, and he just knew Asami did that on purpose. With a vindictive desire for some small retribution, he tugged off his shirt right there in the hall and tossed it carelessly to the ground. "I'll get dressed, but I'll be in the bathroom for a while first." His hands slid down to the fly of his jeans, popping open the top button suggestively, as he smirked. "Don't come in."

Akihito managed to turn away and walk quickly toward the bedroom before a blush completely suffused his cheeks. The look on Asami's face was priceless, though. At least it was until he caught up with him just before he could lock the bathroom door.