onsen

Takaba exhaled loudly as the heat of the hot spring sank into his bones, relaxing muscles and seeming to leech every stress and care from his body into the pine-scented water. This was marvellous. And a total stroke of good fortune – a free weekend at one of Kyoto’s most exclusive and private onsen, courtesy of some obscure photography competition he’d entered.

The timing was perfect too – ten days ago he’d managed to take photos of a junior minister and a crime boss ‘having lunch’ together. The resulting newspaper coverage meant Takaba was very unpopular in certain quarters at the moment. He grinned. They probably thought he was cowering in some dingy fleabag-motel hideout waiting for the heat to die down. And OK, so maybe he had been a few days ago, but now he was relaxing in a high-class indoor hot spring pool. And the heat’s just great as it is, he thought drowsily, closing his eyes and dozing in the humid warmth.


A tall figure stepped into the room, sliding the shoji-door shut behind him and waiting for some reaction from the young man reclining in the hot spring. After a couple of minutes it was apparent Takaba was lost in dreamland and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

Really, Asami thought, after all the idiotic misadventures that happened to him you’d think Akihito would have more awareness of his surroundings.

Then again, what little sense of self-preservation the boy possessed had served him well enough - with anyone other than his friends and Asami, of course.

He smirked and started to strip. Despite the fact he made no effort to be quiet he managed to undress and wash without rousing Takaba. After sluicing himself off he stepped over to the hot spring pool and swung his legs over the side, lowering himself into the water.

Face flushed pink, water sparkling on dark gold eyelashes, expression open and innocent; it was almost a pity to wake the boy. But then he hadn’t actually come here to watch Takaba.

As if hearing those thoughts, Takaba half-opened his eyes and smiled up at Asami, a sweet, sleepy expression he seldom bestowed unless half-drunk or half-unconscious. This is definitely going to be amusing, thought Asami.

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

Takaba drifted, thoughts tumbling slowly through his head in a hazy collage. Water sloshed against his chin, accompanied by soft splashing noises. He opened his eyes to find one of his better fantasies sliding onto the pool seat opposite. Mmm, how he wished the real Asami would let him take some nude study shots. The man really had a beautiful body. Despite the smirk and the criminal occupation and the personali-

Takaba jolted upright – this wasn’t some daydream!

“Hey! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Now is that any way to greet your partner for the weekend, Akihito?”

Partner? What bullshit is this? I won this weekend as a prize in a photo competition!”

“I’m sure if you read the award conditions carefully you’d find they stated a partner was included.”

“No they didn’t. There wasn’t anything about bringing a partner.”

“Oh. I meant a partner designated by the award panel.”

If possible, the smirk seemed to deepen even further.

“Someone designated yo…” No, that wasn’t right, “Who the hell did you bribe? And what for?” Takaba snarled.

“I didn’t need to bribe anyone. After all, it was an award panel of one.”

One? It dawned on Takaba that the last-minute prize had been ‘awarded’ to him as the runner-up; the papers had said the original winner had been disqualified for some reason or another, but the onsen was already booked for this weekend only. And he couldn’t specifically remember entering the competition anyway, which meant…

“You jerk! There was no competition. Was there?”

He turned and started to haul himself out the pool when long arms slid around him, dragging him backward into a steel embrace.

“There’s no need for a competition,” Asami’s tone was gently mocking, “You’ll always be my favourite photographer. Now come sit on my lap like a good boy.”

Asami moved them backward onto the seat, propping Takaba onto his lap, legs falling either side of Asami’s thighs. A hand stroked down Takaba’s front, smoothing and caressing, whilst the other flattened him demandingly against an unyielding chest. The whole of his back was plastered against hot, wet flesh. He could feel Asami, already aroused and hard, pressing insistently between his buttocks. And maybe there was a tiny piece of him that wanted to give in, but the rest of him was thinking, hell no!

“Let go of me, you pervert! We’re not doing that in a hot spring! That’s just, just…vulgar.”

The body behind him was still for a second and then started to shake. For a moment Takaba didn’t understand what was happening – and then he realised Asami was laughing. Takaba gave a wordless screech of fury and started fighting, kicking and elbowing backward.

Despite his efforts, Asami scooped him up easily and stood up on the seat, saying,

“Stop struggling or I’ll drop you.”

“Let go of me!”

Asami laughed out loud this time, and turned so Takaba was held over the tiled floor.

“A fall onto those tiles could be quite nasty,” he commented.

Takaba stopped struggling, but glared fiercely into his captor’s face.

“Bastard!”

“You really have a mouth on you, Akihito,” commented Asami, stepping out of the hot spring. He strode across the room, nudged the door open and headed towards the large shiki-futon someone had unrolled in Takaba’s absence. Takaba started struggling again, only to be flung down onto the mattress. Breath whooshed out and he saw stars sparkling. By the time he’d recovered there was a heavy body pressing him into the futon.

“Get o…mph!”

The tongue thrust into his mouth effectively silenced him, though he didn’t stop his muffled protests. Asami started moving against him, wet skin to wet skin, and his hot erection sliding in the valley between his hip and his own rapidly filling cock. Takaba tried to push Asami off, but as usual his strength was pitiful compared to the other man’s. Asami finally lifted his head,

“Turn over,” he ordered.

“No!” refused Takaba breathlessly and futilely, as Asami easily manhandled him onto his stomach despite Takaba’s frantic wriggling.

“If you keep struggling, I’ll almost think you don’t want it.”

“Stop! Get off of me, asshole! I don’t want it!”

“Really? Because this,” Asami’s hand slid between Takaba’s thighs, brushing over his balls and cupping his now erect cock, “Tells me otherwise.”

“It’s not my fault! It’s, it’s…you brainwashed me. All those damn times.”

Asami chuckled.

“I’ve trained you well.”

Takaba gave an infuriated yell, hitting backward. Asami grabbed his fist, then captured his other wrist, pinning them above his head and stretching his body immobile. Takaba twisted his head to look behind him, only to have two fingers pushed roughly into his mouth.

“You know what to do,” he was told.

Takaba glared, but obediently started laving the fingers with as much saliva as he could. When Asami was in one of those moods he knew it was the only lubrication he could expect. All too soon the fingers were removed and thrust inside him.

“Fuck! That hurts Asami, sto… unh…”

Words failed him as Asami pressed against his sweet spot and the usual bolt of lightening-swift pleasure shot through the pain. A couple more thrusts and then the fingers withdrew, replaced by the nudge of something larger and blunter against his entrance. Takaba inhaled deeply and tried to relax. Asami pushed inside him without any more warning, a thick, hot column that seemed to breach him open as it plunged inward. Takaba cried out, struggling uselessly and babbling just as useless words of invective and denial. Asami ignored him, giving those little grunting exhalations of air that meant he was fully absorbed with his own pleasure. When he was fully inside, groin flat against Takaba’s bottom, body heavy against Takaba’s back, pushing him into the crisp cotton of the futon, he murmured,

“It’s been too long – you’re almost as tight as the first time I took you.”

“That’s…uh…because I don’t want it! Get it out!”

“Little liar.”

Asami released Takaba’s wrists and pulled him upright, settling back on his own knees. A hand wrapped around Takaba’s cock. Several sliding twists up and down his erection and he was leaking pre-come. Takaba could hear the thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat thundering over his moans, felt his hips lift involuntarily to shove his cock into the constriction of Asami’s grip. Pleasure and pain blurred into overwhelming sensation until he was almost, almost there...

Asami slid his hands onto Takaba’s hips.

“No…please…no…” Takaba gasped.

“Ride me,” Asami ordered.

Takaba pushed off, leaning forward and grabbing Asami’s knees. He tilted forward more, pulling himself off Asami’s cock and moaning in relief at the removal. Asami tightened his grip and pulled him backward. He rose up again and was pulled down again.

“Ah!... oww…”

Asami ignored him, and he fell into a rhythm, swelling and subsiding into that haze of pain and pleasure. At some point Asami’s hand migrated to his cock; sliding up and down to the same cadence. He fell forward onto his knees and elbows, driving backward and forward desperately as Asami’s thrusts got shorter and harder and faster and please, please, please don’t let that begging be his...

He almost didn’t understand the words,

“Who wants it now, eh, Akihito?”

And then there was nothing but his body seizing, and a rush of white, white noise.


Asami flicked the lighter shut and inhaled the first sweet hit of nicotine. He tipped his head back and slowly exhaled. Glancing sideways, he could see Takaba was dead to the world; sprawling loose-limbed, flushed pink and dewy against the white of the covers. Really, the boy should try not to look like that after he’d just been fucked. It just made Asami want to do it again.

Still, give him a couple of hours rest and Akihito would be ready for another round. If he hadn’t thought up some questions in the meantime that was. Though it hadn’t occurred to the little idiot to ask why Asami had employed such devious means to get him out of town as quietly as possible.

Never mind. By the end of the weekend Oshiro Naota would be stripped of his office, and the tax department and anti-corruption squad were already squabbling over who got first blood. He wouldn’t be surprised to see a suicide notification as the man’s next public announcement.

And Maeda Hatsu was dead now, his minions deceased or scattered, and his territories safely in Asami’s hands or those of his allies. The fool had been encroaching for the last few months, so it had only been a matter of time and timing.

He probably should thank Akihito for giving him an acceptable excuse to take his rival out – except the little idiot had already been more than paid by Asami making sure that pitifully concealed ‘safehouse’ had been protected. So really, he was actually owed. Asami smirked. Well, Akihito had the whole weekend in which to pay up.


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