Compensation
Asami has been taken Akihito’s photos and Akihito wants compensation.
written for eclairee
Asami knew too much about him, and Akihito didn’t like it.
Akihito didn’t like how Asami knew his cell phone number. Akihito once went as far as to change the number of his cell and, and hour later, Asami had called him even before Akihito had given out his number to anyone. It had taken Akihito four months of snooping and investigation in order to gain access to Asami’s private number. But even with all the effort he exerted, he knew that the only reason why he was able to get the number was because Asami had leaked it out to him (though one would have to kill him before he would admit it).
He found it completely frustrating how Asami was able to gain access into his apartment without being invited while Akihito has only been in Asami’s flat when he was unconscious and unwilling. Even when he was an unwanted houseguest, Asami was still able to get Akihito to make him coffee (of his favorite brand) and serve it to him with a spoonful of sugar. While Akihito was making this coffee, Asami went through the different photographs Akihito had developed, taking whichever one he wanted as though he owned it!
It took everything he had to stop himself from throwing his coffee at Asami when he started taking the negatives as well.
“At least give me something in return,” Akihito snapped, eyes flashing angrily. Akihito had been glaring at Asami ever since he came in and started to go through the photos. The photographs would have sold well too, if Asami hadn’t taken most of them. It had taken Akihito a good month of pulling strings with all his connections, going through various information networks and snooping around in a couple of bad spots where he could have gotten killed if he wasn’t careful enough in order to find the location of where a prominent chief of police, a senate member, and some members of the yakuza did their ‘business’ together.
Asami leant back into the slightly worn down furniture that Akihito owned, pulling out a cigarette from his right coat pocket and a match to light it with.
“What would you like?” Asami asked, his eyes surveying the small apartment. “New furniture?”
“I like my furniture.”
“Your sofa is worn down.”
“My grandparents bought it as a housewarming gift for me.” Akihito defended. The sofa was a gift his grandparents bought him when he had moved out of their house. There might have been a few ware and tears, but the sofa was worn in to his liking.
Asami’s eyes landed onto the dining room set that he had, if one could call it a set. The table was scratched up and it came with four chairs. Though one chair had been missing for quite awhile and the third chair in the set was a folding metal chair. “Your dining room set is mismatched.”
“That’s because you broke the chair.” Akihito said, red faced. Asami snickered, recalling exactly what activity lead to breaking the chair. He was definitely sitting on the chair when it broke; however, he wasn’t the only one.
“Your bed will need to be replaced soon.” Asami said, putting out his cigarette.
“Why would my bed need to be replaced?” Akihito asked, dumbfounded. “It’s only a few years old.”
“The springs…”
“What about the springs?”
“It creaks.”
“It does not.”
“It does.”
Akihito didn’t know how Asami could move so fast, but everything was a blur as Asami grabbed him and took him into the bedroom. He was roughly pushed up against the mattress; heated lips smothered his own leaving him breathless.
“Asami, let go of me.” Akihito growled.
“Shush.” Asami said, covering Akihito’s mouth with a hand. “We’re testing to see if your bed creaks.”
“Damn it Asami! If you do this, of course it’ll creak!”
Akihito thrashed under the other man’s hold. His body jerked at the touch of Asami’s hands on his naked skin. Akihito was hot all over, his body aching everywhere Asami touched and caressed. He was completely flustered by him, his voice yearning for more.
He absolutely hated it. He hated it more than how Asami was able to find anything he wanted whenever he wanted, more than how Asami would come over when he pleased and expected him to have that damn French coffee he favored. He even hated it more than how Asami would steal his photographs and negatives right in front of him.
Akihito absolutely loathed how Asami knew his body better than he did and made sure he knew it.
He almost hated it as much as he hated himself for wanting Asami to prove it.