Here's my first ever fic - I hope you enjoy it! I don't really know what I'm doing yet so any feedback would be welcome! I'm nervous about my writing style too so please feel free to be brutally honest - I feel it will help me improve - also sorry for any bad grammar/spelling I missed...

I hope I've got the characters kind of right and in keeping with the beautiful story Yamane Sensei created. That woman is my hero! The fist chapter is kind of Takaba free, I love him so he will be making an appearance soon, I really have no idea how Sudou ended up the main focus because in the manga - I hate the man!

BTW - I don't own the characters - if I did I wouldn't share those boys with anybody!

Warnings: Yaoi, swearing, mild violence.

onto the story...


Some Peoples' morning routines are more varied than others. Like for the thousands of salary men in Tokyo for example, they awake each morning and shut off the alarm clock with well practiced ease. They might have a shave, read today's Nikkei financial times while they enjoy their bland coffee and equally bland Bran flakes (because the doctor has reminded them lately that aging is a bitch and "you must start watching your cholesterol and that waistline fufufufufu...")

They might give their wife a peck on the lips before they leave for another long, unfulfilling day at the office.


Sudou Shuu is nothing like those old bloated fools, for one, he isn't some faceless corporate dog. No! He is the one and only manager of one of Tokyo's hottest and most exclusive clubs, the only ones beating it to the punch will undoubtedly also belong to the powerful, unrivaled, dangerous, sexy - "Yesss-ah..So...Sexy..Ah!." - Asami Ryuichi.


Sudou is starting his day pretty much like he always does, after being awakened from having dreams of his "so..hot!..ah!.." Asami-san. He always feels invigorated and able to face the day after a good long stroke using that night's material.

But don't misunderstand, Sudou isn't some hormone addled, virginal loser - Never! He has a substantial number of exes and he was seeing a rich (slightly balding) but successful guy up until just a while ago - a politician named Shouzou Kamiyama and they met occasionally and fucked. Kamiyama even visited Sodou's office in club Draceana a handful of times, desperate to see Sudou even while he was working.

Although, things had gone differently the last time when they had been making out like teenagers (After Sudou had gotten hot from seeing Asami-san jacketless, sleeves rolled up and strong arms bracing himself on a paperwork covered desk as he had been laying into Sudou about "why the fuck are there so many discrepancies Sudou?...Are you even listening?" 'No Asami-san...' Sudou had thought, while he stood across from Asami '...Just please stop talking so I can fuck you with my eyes some more.'...) -

So thanks to that, he had been feeling extra excitable and slutty, rubbing his hard on against Kamiyama's thigh and running his hands through the politicians comb-over. Kamiyama had to lean back to brace himself on the desk and ended up somehow swiping behind him, knocking both their glasses of whiskey right over Sudou, not only did that ruin a pair of Gucci slacks; it also killed the erection he'd been sporting.


Having returned to the office a few minutes later after changing and throwing the spoiled pants into the trash, The blond looked to Kamiyama who was smoking and moving around from Sudou's office chair and computer to lean against the desk. There's a brief pause before the old man sighs, adjusts his glasses and looks at the former model in contemplation.

"Sudou baby, I don't think this is working out. I've..uh, met someone else..."

Sudou almost laughs when he thinks about that now as the 'someone else' turned out to be some little hostess slut that has now gone missing after apparently laundering 50 million Yen from Asami-san.

He wonders briefly how some bimbo would have access to the accounts to transfer the money, until his hand wonders back down his body and rational thought takes a backseat for the moment...

Sudou is lying amongst his tangled blue satin sheets, hand fisted around his cock and occasionally sliding up to just pinch the head a little, as he plays out today's fantasy...Cue 70's porn music:

Asami-san and him are naked while kneeling, facing each other on one of the leather couches in the club, Asami-san has Sudou's hands tied above him to one of the gilded candelabra's affixed to the wall, his back is being caressed, moving rhythmically against sumptuous deep red velvet drapes as his exposed body is at Asami-sans mercy. Asami-san's lips and tongue are tasting Sudou's light, toned chest, seeking out one rosy nipple and giving it a tug with his teeth before placing a soothing lick onto the erect bud, he then moves along to the other, kissing Sudou's chest along the way. Asami-san slides a hand down, down...Sudou arches towards the skilfull man and cries out -

"Ahh! Asami-san p-please...uh!..."

This cry echoes both in his fantasy and in the real world, where unfortunately he is really just alone in his own bed, touching himself. Somewhere in his mind though, past the erotic haze, he is painfully aware that this desperate, aching longing is so intense and so endless and he is so desperate, to be filled to the brim, to breaking point...with his Asami-san. That if he weren't so fucking hot right now, he might cry.

As he comes down from his cloud, he takes a relaxed breath and closes his eyes...

'...Hmm, don't waste time here Shuu! You get to see the real thing in a few hours!'

With that, he bounds off to the shower to ensure he looks as flawless and fuckable as ever, after all - today might be the day his dreams come true!



Asami doesn't wait for Kirishima to open the door of his limo for him this morning as it pulls to a stop in front of Draceana. He swiftly makes his way inside and recalls this morning having been very, very rudely awoken from his nap by a buzzing phone on his nightstand after having thoroughly fucked Akihito into the dining room table, couch and eventually the mattress since he finished work last night. Just to be told the pain in the ass Atakura Torou from the Katsufumi group, is currently drinking in his club.

These brats had been pushing their luck lately, and if Atakura wasn't some acne laden, goatee sporting, 70's shirt obsessed ugly fuck he would have probably fit the criteria to get taught a lesson involving Asami's extensive collection of BDSM equipment and some abject humiliation and tears from his captive.

'Ahhh yes'..

As it happens the last person he punished in that particularly enjoyable fashion was Akihito, over a year ago. The boy was delicious then and even more so now - and his little sex kitten may mean more to Asami than he would ever care to admit to himself, or that sexy ass brat!

He had left Akihito at the home they share after one last good morning hair ruffle and tongue heavy kiss goodbye as Akihito has work in Chiba today.

Now. The Katsufumi group are by no means in the same class as Asami, who is the head of a vast, ever growing empire and with many politicians and police in his pocket (which also comes in handy). The Katsufumi group were relatively new to the Arms trade after making their money mostly with clubs that are no better than Brothel's.

The biggest place they own is the Kitty club in Akihabara; the interior looks as any strip club might. But back of house it's well known that the use of aphrodisiacs and narcotics are commonplace among them and their staff. It's the main method of leverage they use to keep the 36 girls docile and have them service (and in most cases get fucked and abused by) the customers willingly, all for the next hit.

Asami had acquired 2 containers of weapons the katsufumi had been after, coming in from Iran.

As far as weapons trades go, it had been legit - he had Kirishima quality check the goods and run background checks on the dealer, while he sat smoking in the dock warehouse that night. Pretty dull - standard stuff, these deals...

He had, as always, brought enough men to takeover a small country and they were placed strategically around the sight. Meanwhile the Katsufumi who had been planning to buy these weapons, had arrived also - offering two thirds cash, 50 million Yen - which they had brought into the warehouse with them, in a leather briefcase. The rest they insisted the seller could redeem through free fucks at their club.

"Fucking amateurs" the dealer scoffed around his cigar after hearing the proposal. He is a 39 year old, Italian mafia wannabe judging by the black and white scarface-esque suit he's wearing. Luckily for him though, Asami had quite enjoyed that film.

The dealer then had then asked the Katsufumi:

"What? You think some stagnant pussy is gonna pay for these?"...


"Look. Take your grade school guide to fucking arms dealing and shove it up your asses. I'm fucked before I accept a briefcase full of crumpled as fuck money, no one does that anymore you fucking loser."

Asami was on his way to letting out a chuckle as he sat there watching this attempt at a deal, however half assed it may be.

'Why do they want guns? It hardly fits their MO as small time drug dealers. And I'll be damned if they made 50 Million Yen from those piece of shit clubs in such little time...'

Asami being who he is cannot afford to take things at face value.

'These punks must want to start something in Tokyo...'

Back in real time, Kirishima and Souh fall back to observe as Asami reaches the table holding the Katsufumi brats and he notices a shit eating grin on both their faces, a vein throbs in the crime lords temple as he takes in their appearance and remembers for a brief second, if it weren't for these lousy shit for brains he'd be buried quite happily, balls deep in Takaba right about now.

Instead of shooting them though (like he really, really wants to do) he forces a casual smirk and greets them smoothly...

"Gentlemen, welcome. I trust the drinks and service are to your liking?"

They both laugh at this.

"Hey old man!" Suuchou Hagami, a ginger, round face, troll looking S.O.B replies - making that damn vein throb again and Asami swears he can feel his blood pressure rising as he resists the urge to KILL. The two 20 somethings look to each other before laughing again.

Atakura takes his cigarette from his mouth as he leans forward to try and stare Asami down, who is still standing so it's really not intimidating. Like, at all.

"Ne, old man. I think you should hand over those goods to us, you know for a sweeter price though-pfffff" They giggle for a good few minutes and Asami glances to their littered table and at the beer cans, crushed ends of two spliffs and an empty whiskey bottle of a brand Draecena doesn't even stock.

'Hmph, cheap shit.' Asami thinks to himself and glances then at his watch: 10:10 AM - 'What time did these brats start drinking anyway?

The giggling eventually dies down and Asami finally obliges them with a reply, and another smirk.

"It's really a shame you missed out kid, but this business really doesn't suit you. If you're this naive maybe it's wiser for you to find another career path altogether. I believe Nakano broadway is hiring, it's got 4 floors dedicated to stuffed toys you know, it should be perfect for you."

Atakura looses it at that piece of patronizing provocation.

'I've had that shit all my life and I ain't gonna let some fancy suit tell me what to do!' He stares up to Asami aggressively with a fire in his eyes that could rival Takaba's as he hisses.

"Hey! Fuck you Asami! You better hand over the goods to us at 30% the original price or I'd hate to really go after you, or maybe that prime piece of ass you keep stashed away for yourself. He's a looker alright, gets me hard just thinking what I'd do to that tight as-Oomph."

Asami moves impossibly fast and grabs the younger man by the collar of his shirt and demands in a cold, menacing voice that sends involuntary shivers of fear down Atakura's spine -

"Let me make myself clear, if you do so much as attempt to touch Takaba, I will end you, your group and your family, all you have ever cared for. Do not mistake my mercy for weakness, if you try and cross me it will be the last thing you'll ever do."

He shoves Atakura away and the 20 something can only blink stupidly in return whilst his vision clears. In the meantime, Asami is calling Sudou down to ask the obvious question of "what the hell are these fucks even doing in here?" And "Do your fucking job."

Atakura and Suuchou look at each other and over to Asami seeing him shout some orders of "get them the fuck out of here Sudou" to some blond guy. Asami pauses to light a cigarette before walking out of the club tailed by his bodyguards and it's then that Atakura notices the dreamy, lost look on Sudou's face. 'Ah this is fucking priceless' Atakura says to himself...

"Hey, cute stuff, come over here."

Sudou, a bit put out that Asami-san didn't notice that he is wearing his best cravat for him today, eventually turns and makes his way over to stop short of the table and say in a sulky voice:

"Gentlemen, I have seen that one of our hostesses let you in after you sweet-talked her, however we are not actually open to the public as we are members only club, so..."

Atakura tilts his head, smirks and stubs out his cigarette into the ashtray before eventually looking back at Sudou, "Sure thing gorgeous, we'll leave, but -" he holds up a finger, pointing at the blond. "- only after you share a drink with us." Atakura leans back and places both arms to rest on the coach, presenting himself and looking cocky as shit. Sudou rolls his eyes, knowing the type of brats he's dealing with and sits rather stiffly towards the end of the coach before calling over a waiter to order three whiskey on the rocks.

Atakura slides along the couch a little more and is getting uncomfortably close so Sudou leans ever so slightly away. "Hey, so this place belongs to Ass-ami huh?" Atakura asks whist smirking and Suuchou scoffs loudly, bouncing a little in his seat doing a (what Sudou can only assume is a doggy paddle impression.) When the laughter dies down Sudou deems it safe to reply.

"Asami-san owns many exclusive, successful clubs and this is merely one of them."

"Yeah, that's really great..." Atakura dismissively mumbles as he reaches out a hand to gently pull at a few loose strands of Sudou's hair and Sudou likes the feel of that, causing little tingling sensations on his scalp. He turns to look inquiringly at Atakura who is shifting towards him further and still playing with the strands of soft hair as Suuchou merely observes. Atakura eventually leans his face in and breathes onto Sudou's neck, before gently whispering...

"Wouldn't it be great if Asami would treat you gently like this?"

He tilts his head and gives a soft, little lick to Sudou's neck, the ex models eyes going impossibly wide and he's too shocked to move.

"Don't you want him? We could make it happen for you, get that little ratty photographer out of the way."

He gently slips a business card into Sudou's breast pocket, the movement finally kicking the blonds mind back into gear and making him clap a hand over the assaulted ear whilst moving to stand and back away slightly, looking affronted. He's frozen like that for a while before his body this time, catches up with reality and he turns to storm off to his office so fast it's impossible to think he couldn't have just got severe whiplash. He struts his most angry strut and shouts to the waiter.

"Forget about the drinks Riichi-san, just throw those upstarts out of here!"


When he reaches his plushly decorated office, he closes the door and leans against it, slightly shaking from that encounter - 'the crazy things they were proposing! They want that Takaba brat? But If...If he was...out of the way?...'

Sudou lets out a nervous giggle, thinking about what just happened. He closes he eyes and tilts his head up, just enjoying the light coming through his closed eyelids. Oh how he does long to be touched like that, by Asami-san.