Chapter Text
The rain was falling hard and steady against the window panes. It had been falling for days now in an unceasing rhythm. It was neither pounding, nor pouring, nor trickling, but rather drizzling; falling in a slow but steady stream.
Akihito watched the water run like fingers across the windowpanes. Each drop followed the path of the first, taking the path of least resistance. The droplets moved like a dance, running and stopping almost in a rhythm. It was dark outside and it was dark inside. Akihito had turned off the lights. When he was alone in the penthouse, he often felt like a reptile in a display box because everyone could see in and he could not see out. He felt especially claustrophobic because he had been confined to the apartment for several days. He had had no work, and the few leads he had, he had ignored. He was no longer desperate enough to sit outside in the pouring rain, risking his cameras and comfort, for the infinitesimally small chance of a some great picture that would break open his practically nonexistent career. He figured all the criminals with any sense were doing what he was doing; sitting tight and staying dry.
Except for one.
It was nearly midnight and he hadn’t seen Asami since the morning before. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t been home. There was a snubbed cigarette in an ashtray Akihito had just emptied yesterday. Some of the rice and miso was missing from the fridge. There were socks, boxers and a rumpled dress-shirt in the laundry, indicating that Asami had come home while Akihito was asleep and left before he woke. Perhaps if they slept in the same bed, Akihito might have noticed. But they didn’t sleep in the same bed. He had been tempted, on occasion, to crawl into the giant Swedish mattress with the 3000 thread count sheets and piles of pillows, instead of his own tiny twin with its paper thin mattress and painfully springy springs. Akihito wondered at times if Asami had done that one purpose to lure him into his bed, but he doubted Asami would ever be so subtle. If Asami wanted him in his bed, he would simply throw him over his shoulder and put him there.
Akihito leaned his cheek into his palm and sighed loudly. It was the eighth time in an hour, but there was no one there to either count or notice.
It bothered him and he told himself that it shouldn’t. Asami and he were nothing more than glorified roommates. Friends with benefits, except they weren’t really friends.
Which brought Akihito back around to the same question that had been bothering him for weeks, months…. years, from the moment he had met Asami to tell the truth. What was he to Asami? What role did he play in script of Asami’s life? Was he a background extra? A supporting player? A lead?
In the story of Asami Ryuichi's life, would the name Takaba Akihito even get an honorable mention?
The blond’s lip jutted out in an angry pout and he pushed up off the couch to take a frustrated walk around the penthouse. He ended up standing with his hand pressed against the balcony window. The rain trickled down between his fingers, disappearing on the glass behind his hand. He looked out into the city and wondered, for the hundredth time, where Asami was so late at night.
His gaze drifted to the newspaper sitting beside the older's man armchair and Akihito ripped his eyes away as if he didn’t want to be reminded. It didn’t stop the tendrils of jealousy from creeping up into his chest again. A few weeks ago, another photo of Asami and Azumi Ryouko had shown up in the society column. It wasn’t the first. Ever since that night that Akihito had seen them together, he couldn’t help but watch for them. Every few weeks, it seemed like yet another photo of them together showed up on the internet or in the celebrity gossip rags or in the newspaper. And it hurt.
It hurt so deeply.
It hurt because Akihito knew that Asami had the power to stop those photos from ever reaching the light of day. He had the power and the money to bury them so deep that no one would ever see them.
And he didn’t.
Which could only mean that Asami wanted to be seen with her, that he was proud to be seen in public with her. And even if it was only some kind of strategic powerplay, it still hurt, because he had never, not once allowed himself to be seen in public with Akihito. Asami might roll down a limousine window and invite him in for a private meeting, or meet with him in his office, but he had always been absolutely careful never to walk down a street with him, or sit down in a restaurant together. Certainly he would never take him to a movie premiere, dressed in his best, with his arm placed protectively around him, his hand resting possessively in the small of his back…. not like he had with Azumi. Akihito shuddered as if trying to forget the memory, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been, not since that night.
The image of how perfect they had looked together had worked its way under his skin like a splinter. The pain flared up, the memory coming back to him and all hours of the day and night and he would try to distract himself by doing or saying something outloud, anything to jolt his brain off track and forget about it. But he couldn’t and it was there just waiting for him to feel insecure or vulnerable so it could rear its ugly head and remind him of the fact that Asami didn’t want to be seen with him in public.
Asami didn’t want to be seen with him in public.
He was ashamed of him.
Akihito was his seedy little rentboy; his dirty, tawdry affair that was kept in the dark and hidden away behind closed doors. Whatever it was that they had, Asami didn’t want anyone to know about it.
It embarrassed him.
Akihito, embarrassed him.
Tears burned in his eyes and he pressed his palms to them as he shook his head side to side like it was an Etch-A-Sketch and that was all he need to do to forget.
Even if it wasn’t HIM, but rather the taboo nature of a homosexual relationship, it was still obvious that even two years later, Asami had no interest in bringing Akihito into his world. He was still just someone Asami kept apart from his daily life and all the rich, powerful, beautiful he surrounded himself with. People that were nothing like Akihito. Stupid Akihito, who wore funny boxers, and bunny slippers, who kept Asami’s home and cooked his meals and warmed his bed. Who would have given anything for a photo of them together. Who wanted nothing more than to walk down the street holding Asami’s hand for the world to see. Who didn’t even warrant a phone call when Asami was out all night with his girlfriend. Tears welled in his eyes and blurred his vision until he angrily swept them away. At least those drops he could control, not like the weather outside and not like Asami. There was nothing he could do about the rain and nothing he could do about Asami.
He padded down the hall to his bedroom, pausing just once to gaze into Asami’s bedroom. It was empty and dark, the bed perfectly made and not a thing out of place. He was probably sleeping somewhere else tonight. In someone else’s bed. Probably Azumi’s. It wasn’t as if Asami hadn’t admitted he was bisexual and bisexual meant he liked both men and women. One of those things was not like the other. Akihito was not a woman. So he couldn’t give Asami everything he needed. They weren’t officially ‘together’, so it wasn’t like Asami was cheating on him.
But it still hurt like he was.
Akihito held himself by the elbows because it made his chest hurt less as he made his way to his own bedroom.
He stripped out of his tank top and dropped his boxers to the floor. He should have stopped to put them in the hamper but he figured it didn’t matter since no one but him would see the mess.
Laying in bed alone, he listened to the rain in the dark. And it should have lulled him to sleep but he couldn’t, so he just lay there and listened until he lost track of time. It might have been thirty minutes or it might have been three hours before he finally heard the sound he was really listening for.
The front door opened and closed. Heavy footsteps moved down the hall. He heard the clink of ice in a glass and a decanter of whiskey being poured. The leather armchair squeaked as Asami sat down. He could imagine him clearly, sitting on his throne, smoking a cigarette and drinking whiskey because far-be-it from Asami to actually go and make himself a decent dinner. Akihito contemplated getting up and going to see if he needed anything but…. he had probably already eaten dinner. With her. Akihito stuffed his pillow under his head and rolled over. If Asami was hungry, he could get it himself. Akihito wasn’t his wife, no matter how neatly he played the role, and he certainly wasn't making him dinner after an evening with his mistress.
Long minutes passed. Akihito imagined him reading the paper Akihito had left there for him. He would browse the business section first, then stocks, then politics and then the tech section. He wanted so badly to go to him but he was still angry and upset. Finally he heard Asami stand and walk towards his bedroom, but Akihito’s heart stuttered in his chest as he heard Asami open the door to his own room, pause and then move down the hall to stand in front of Akihito’s door. He seemed to stand there for a long time as if deciding whether or not to turn the knob. Akihito vaguely wondered if he would check first to make sure it was locked before just shooting it open.
Softly and carefully, as if Asami was trying not to wake him, the doorknob turned and the door opened. Soft light fell over the bottom of Akihito’s bed. Goosebumps broke out over all the bare skin that was now exposed to Asami's gaze. He wished he had pulled the covers up over his upper body but it was too late now because if he moved Asami would know he was awake, and then he would have to talk to him and he didn’t know what he would say.
Akihito lay there, naked and barely covered by the blankets as Asami stood in the doorway. He didn’t move. He breathed in and out slowly and kept his eyes closed as if he were sleeping.
Asami just watched him.
He just stood there and watched him sleep.
It was incredibly creepy and stalkerish.
Akihito wondered how many times Asami had done this.
His heart thudded in his chest as he heard Asami slowly moved to stand over him. He bent then and caught the edge of the blanket and brought it up to cover Akihito’s shoulders. When his fingertips brushed the back of Akihito’s neck he couldn’t help but flinch and turn to meet Asami’s unwavering gaze with startled blue eyes.
It seemed as though a fire had been lit in their amber depths and Akihito moved to roll over and face him more fully but suddenly Asami’s palm flattened over the hollow of his back, keeping him pinned in place. The cover he had just tucked over Akihito’s body was now dragged down to pool at his feet and Akihito was left naked in the dim light coming from the hall. He could almost feel the heat of Asami’s gaze as it traveled up his bare legs, thighs, buttocks. Akihito tried to roll over again but Asami’s hand stopped him again. The bed bent beneath the older man's weight as he moved to crawl and straddle Akihito’s supine body. Akihito could do nothing but stare blindly forward at the wall.
He felt wholly and totally exposed, vulnerable, not even braced on his knees, but pressed down on his belly with the weight of Asami’s hand on his back. He shuddered as he felt Asami’s spit slicked fingers nudge against his opening. It hurt as they entered him, a little too fast and a little too rough and a little too much. And it was just the way he liked it, and Asami knew it.
But did he like it that way, because he did, or because it was the only way he had ever known?
He gasped as Asami’s finger crooked inside him and his penis twitched. It swelled where it was bent down and trapped between his legs and Asami’s other hand moved to stroke it to full hardness. He hated the way his whimper sounded in the silence. It was followed by the sound of Asami reaching into his bedside table and uncapping the lotion bottle Akihito kept there. For no reason. Cause his skin got dry sometimes. That was all.
Thick fingers dragged on his rim as Asami eased them out of him. Spit was never a very good lube. It was just a bit sticky and pulled on the skin as Asami moved inside him, it made his hole feel tender and raw before Asami had even entered him. Thank fully Asami never skimped on the lube when the main event came. It was the only way someone as small as Akihito could take someone as large as Asami. Lots and lots of lube.
The slot between his thighs felt wet as Asami pressed up and against him, his thumbs slotted in the plump of Akihito’s bottom, spreading his crack wide so his fingered hole was open and exposed. The slide in was slow, but it stretched Akihito so fast and so completely and it made his insides burn. Asami’s hand stayed in the hollow of his back, at the same time, rubbing soothingly with his thumb and dominating him completely. Asami stretched him wider and wider, finally hilting and then retreating, before pressing back inside. He moved hard and insistent, conquering the natural resistance of Akihito’s muscles easily, until he was fucking into a space Asami had cored into Akihito's body with his cock; a space made by him, a space that was only for him.
There was a place like that in Akihito's chest too, centered under his left breastbone.
He could feel his own cock, hard and leaking a puddle of precum into the covers between his legs. He wanted to close his thighs to increase the friction but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but lay there like a doll with its legs spread and take it. The way Asami was raking the head of his cock across Akihito’s prostate, it didn’t take him long. He came in a long clenching grunt and soaked the sheets his hands were fisting in.
Asami laid down completely on top of Akihito until it was almost hard to breathe, his face pressed into the hollow between his shoulderblades and his fingers digging into Aki’s hips. He fucked into him hard, punching his fucked out sex in a way he never did before Akihito came. It seemed to Akihito that Asami enjoyed fucking him more, when Akihito was done, and it was only to please himself. But then that wasn’t fair, was it? Because Asami always made sure he came first.
Akihito’s pelvis was shoved forward and back as he lay there, face down like a doll letting Asami fuck him as hard as he wanted without complaint. He knew there would be bruises in the morning. His own cock was soft and limp and useless and laying in a puddle of his own spend. He had never felt like less of a man. Asami wouldn’t take him out for a nice dinner. He wouldn’t hold his hand in public. But he would do this.
Perhaps this was all Asami wanted him for.
Perhaps the reason Asami kept him around was because he never asked for more. Because he was easy.
Because he didn’t respect him.
When Asami finally came inside him, the warm seed filled his insides and Akihito winced as he withdrew. His buttocks felt as though they had been tenderized by Asami’s hard hips. Cum leaked from his ass just adding to the growing puddle. He felt dirty. He felt used. So he just lay there in the mess making no effort to get out of it. He turned his face away, feigning indifference.
He wondered idly why Asami had never used a condom with him. Maybe he just assumed Akihito would never sleep with anyone else. Too bad Akihito didn’t know the same about Asami. He supposed it was a bit late to insist on it now. The cat was out of the bag, as it were, out of the bag and into his unprotected asshole. He wondered bitterly if Asami used protection with her.
Asami used the corner of his clean sheet to wipe at the mess between Akihito’s legs and it annoyed him to no end that Asami had come into his room and ruined his sheets and now he got to go to his nice clean bed and go to sleep and…
“Hey!” He cried out as Asami rolled him and lifted him into his arms.
Asami only smirked at him with his eyebrow. Asami was the only one who could smirk by just moving an eyebrow.
“What are you doing?” He struggled to be let down but it was pointless. Asami would let him down when he was good and ready and not a minute before.
“Putting you where you belong,” Asami said quietly and certainly.
He dropped him then, on the side of the bed closest to the window, away from the door.
Akihito watched the muscles play across his broad back as he sat on the opposite side of the bed and finished undressing. He stripped his shirt and his pants and his socks and shoes. He lay down and rolled to face Akihito faster than the boy had expected and for a moment it shocked him how close Asami’s face was to his. Their eyes met and shadows from outside ghosted across Asami’s features.
Akihito wanted to speak. He wanted to ask him where he had been. He wanted to ask him who he had been with. But the words died in his throat. He rolled over to stare out the window. Asami’s hand moved to splay over his belly, holding him still as Asami moved up behind him. Akihito tensed, feigning indifference yet again, but he didn’t move away from the warmth of the larger man's body.
It was still raining outside. Drizzling. The drops fell one by one, trickling steadily down the glass following the same path they had all day long, and the day before that, and the day before that.... reminding Akihito of all the things he couldn’t change.
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