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Akihito frowned as he checked his shirt. All the buttons were torn off, thanks to last night's eagerness. /The bastard/, he cursed under his breath, referring to Asami. It was beyond wearable now, and he did not think Asami keep a sewing kit in his lush penthouse.

He sighed, slumping down, balling the shirt in his hand. How was he going to go out now? He did not have his jacket with him. There was no way he would wear the shirt unbuttoned. He could get arrested for displaying obscenities in public.

He brushed the bangs from his face, and his eyes fell on Asami's wardrobe. He batted his eyeslashes, trying to put the right thoughts together in his brain.

He had never seen Asami in other clothes but shirt and suits, or bathroom robe, but... there should be something in there he could borrow. Even if it was one of Asami's expensive shirts, that was fine, as long as he had something to wear.

He reached for his cell phone to call Asami and asked him, as the man had left a couple of hours ago while he was still sleeping, however, the battery was out.

Akihito shrugged. He'd just take the shirt, and would tell Asami later. He was sure Asami would not mind.

Besides, he would only borrow it to go to his own apartment. Then he'd change and bring the shirt back. Asami did not have to know he borrowed it.

With a set determination now, Akihito got up from the bed.

For a man who seemed to be wearing the same suit and shirt all the time, Asami had one hell of a collection of them, Akihito thought as he slid the wardrobe open and eyed the clothes neatly hung there. And actually, the suits came in different shades of color, or patterns, or styles. So did the shirts. He just never noticed it. And then, there were a dozen jeans and khakis... and sweaters, again in different shades of black and gray.

Perfect.

Akihito took one black sweater, and slipped it on.

The sweater clung to him like a second skin. So light, so soft. He grinned thinking that perhaps, on Asami, it would stick neatly to his body, accentuating his feature, but on Akihito, it was a little loose.

But still good.

Although it smelled distinctively of Asami's perfume. And bodily scent.

Akihito inhaled deeply, sucking the smell into his lungs.

If he did not understand Asami's obsession on expensive clothes before, he understood now. The sweater gave him a very good feeling right away. The feeling of being so ready to take on the world. The feeling of victory.

Akihito checked his appearance on the full-length mirror of the wardrobe, and decided that he indeed looked very good in that sweater. He did not remember when he looked this good. He smiled broadly.

Well, he shrugged, better stop being so narcistic now. He ought to be gone now, and got back here again to return the sweater.

He got his backpack, shoved his torn shirt inside, and walked out, slipping into his sneakers at the doorway.

He shared the elevator ride with some ladies of different ages, and in a few seconds that the ladies were eyeing him with interest and admiration. One even smiled at him openly, and he smiled back to her. That seemed to encourage her, because she then said, "Nice sweater. Really fits you perfectly."

Akihito almost frowned, but he managed not to let his smile slide away from his face. "Thankyou," he said, nodding.

"You don't live here, do you?" the woman asked again, and now the other women were paying attention.

"Umm, no," Akihito shook his head. "I'm just visiting a friend."

The woman nodded with understanding look on her face. Akihito felt relieved when they reached the lobby floor before the woman said anything else. He stayed back, letting all the ladies to step out before taking his flight. But the woman stayed with him, and when all the other women had left, she said, "I'm on tenth floor, unit eight. Feel free to drop by if you ever need anything next time you visit your friend."

Then she quickly left, leaving a dumbstruck Akihito inside the car.

It took him a few seconds for Akihito to overcome the shock of getting hit by a woman. Gods, he shook his head as he walked out. He tried to remember when was the last time a woman, or a girl, showed such interest. Most of the time they thought he looked adorable and cute, and they'd ask his help on setting their digital cameras or taking their pictures, but nothing like this.

However, one thing for sure, he would not take the woman's offer, for her own safety.

As Akihito walked to the nearest bus stop, he realized that again, people were turning their heads to him, not only once, but twice. Not only women and girls, but also men. Akihito did his best to ignore them, however, he could not stop feeling his ego floating to the sky.

He wondered if he should start investing on clothes like that.

No way in hell. He could imagine how much the sweater cost, and in his current freelance job, such luxury was not an option.

However, getting those attentions from people, that seemed to beat the hell out of the price.

Akihito was walking across the platform of the subway station when he heard his name was called out. He turned to see Kou running towards him.

"Aki!" Kou called out again in panting breath. "Gods. I thought it was not you."

"What's up?" asked Akihito, trying to keep his expression neutral.

Kou stopped in front of him, blinked, then bursting into a loud laugh. "My goodness, Aki. This is awesome. Let me guess. Armani."

Akihito frowned. "What?"

Kou smiled, shaking his head. "Gods. No wonder people are so crazy about him. I want one for myself now."

"What the hell are you talking about, Kou?" Akihito snapped irritably.

"This." Kou pulled the front part of his sweater.

"Hey, careful!" Akihito yelped, and Kou let it go.

"Sorry," he said.

Akihito shook his head. "No, it's okay, it's just..."

"I know." Kou shrugged. "Something that expensive should be taken care of properly."

"That's okay." Akhito threw his arm on Kou's shoulder, suddenly feeling better at Kou's remark of the sweater. "You looking for me?"

"Yeah, your friend at the police office called me. Apparently, he could not contact you, and somehow, he had my number. So he said that if I see you, I should ask you to go to his office right away."

"Oh, okay. I'll do that now."

"You want me to go with you?"

"No. Thanks, Kou. My cell phone is out of battery. See you." Akihito waved.

Well, the sweater could wait. If the police officer needed to see him right away, that meant an information was waiting for him, and that meant: a job.

He would call Asami from the police station.

Again, as he entered the police office, all eyes seemed to fall on him. The women even giggled and started to whisper to each other. Akihito felt awkward, but he felt proud. Usually, they just ignored him as he quickly went to Detective Sato's desk.

"Hey, Takaba-kun," Det. Sato greeted him with a grin. "What happened to your cell phone? Nice sweater."

That compliment struck Akihito like lightning. If Sato-san knew that the sweater belonged to the most feared man in Japan, Akihito wondered if he would still make the comment.

"Anyway, let's make it quick," said Sato. "I want you to go to the courthouse now. Here is your pass. The trial of Kenjiro vs. Japan is undergoing right now. Word is, he is still ruling his business behind bars, and he takes the chance while he is being tried like this to send codes using his fingers to his men attending the trial. I want you to capture him red-handed. Use digital camera, that's enough. I only need solid proof."

"Fine." Akihito nodded. "I'll go change first."

"Why?" Sato frowned. "You look good that way."

So it was settled, and Akihito set to run to the courthouse without further delay.

The guard in front of the room where Kenjiro was tried did not even ask to see his pass. Akihito only blurted his name and Det. Sato's name, and he was let in, with a meaningful look from the guard. The room was packed, the visitor benches was full, however, as he stood at the aisle, looking for an opening, a woman at the second row from the front shifted, giving him a space. Akihito slid in, before he attracted more attention.

"Thankyou." He whispered at the woman's ear.

The woman smiled at him, nodding.

The seat was perfect to take pictures of Kenjiro with his digital camera without being so obvious. Akihito had all his attention on Kenjiro, watching his every moves, capturing his pictures, and when the judge announced that the trial was adjourned that he realized the woman had her hand on his knee.

Akihito smiled apologetically at her, and she withdrew her hand.

"Let's go have a cup of coffee," said the woman as she got up.

"Uh, I'm very sorry, but I have to go," Akihito replied as he put the digital camera back into his backpack.

The woman smiled. "Are you a photographer?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'd say, you should be a model. I have a sister who works in a talent agent, and I'm sure she'd love to see your pictures."

Akihito grinned sheepishly. "I take pictures, I don't have my pictures taken."

"Well, that's too bad." The woman fished her wallet from her handbag. She handed Akihito a name card. "But if you change your mind, here is my number, and I'll set you an appointment with my sister. Maybe, over a cup of coffee?"

"Thankyou." Akihito bowed, his heart was thumping like crazy. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Bye." The woman waved, and Akihito took his flight.

Getting hit by women twice in half a day. Was that a good luck or a bad luck? Akihito shook his head as he jumped into the first bus he saw.

Akihito went to Det. Sato's office, and while Sato downloaded the pictures, he charged up the battery of his cell phone. The moment the battery was enough to receive a call, the cell phone went off. Aiko from the newspaper.

"Akihito!" the young woman cried hysterically through the speaker. "Where have you been? You're going to kill me!"

"Hey, hey, what's up, Aiko-chan?"

"Don't chan me. I want you here, now. Omori Gallery."

"Okay. I'll go change first."

"I don't care if you're wearing rugs right now. Just get your ass here now and help me. I'm desperate!"

Sato gave him a look. Apparently, Aiko's scream could be heard in a rather wide parameter.

"Okay, okay." Akihito gave up.

"You okay?" asked Sato as Akihito unplugged the cell phone charger.

"A hysterical lady. That's all."

"You should try another style then," said Sato as he handed Akihito his digital camera back. "Apparently, that sweater becomes the talk of the women today."

Akihito scowled. "See you," he waved at Sato.

Akihito practically ran from the bus stop to the Omori Gallery. Once glance told him that there was an opening of a painting exhibition in place. Judging from the way the guests dressed, it must be a very important painting exhibition. He should've ignored Aiko and changed his clothes before coming here.

"Akihito!" Aiko called out his name. Akihito turned around only to see a surprised look at Aiko's face. "Oh. My. God."

Akihito frowned. He knew he should've changed first.

"Oh. My. God," Aiko repeated as she strolled closer to Akihito. "I didn't realize that a photographer could earn that much."

"What's up, Aiko?" hissed Akihito.

"Gods." Aiko shook her head. "Armani. My goodness. Never thought I could see the real thing with my own eyes."

Not that again, Akihito palmed his face.

"Mind if I touch it?" asked Aiko, blinking big puppy eyes at Akihito. "Please?"

Nevertheless, it seemed that the guests paid more attention to him than the paintings as he moved with Aiko to take pictures of the paintings, and the event. The sweater did not feel good anymore. The sweater felt heavy. The sweater reminded him that he had not told Asami, and that it was Asami who should be getting all the appreciation instead of himself.

He wanted to yank the sweater off and showed people his true, unattractive self.

But he could not do that, as a gentleman, a westerner, approached him. Akihito gave him a polite, little smile. The gentleman gave him a smirk.

"Hi. My name is Kane Rutherford," he said in English as he handed Akihito an elegant name card. "I'm the International Business Development Manager of Robbie Burns gents boutiques. I'm sure you've heard that name."

No, he had not, Akihito wanted to tell Mr. Rutherford but he could not. Perhaps Asami had. Perhaps Asami got this sweater from that shop.

"We're always in the look for fresh models to carry the image of the shops. And as we're planning to open our ninth shop in Japan, which will be in Kyoto, I can see that it is the perfect timing to have you as our new image," Mr. Rutherford continued.

"I... I don't do modeling," Akihito stammered.

"All models said the same thing when we first offered them. But, have a look at our shop in Shinjuku and let me know what you think."

"Okay. Thankyou."

"The pleasure is mine."

And that was it. As soon as he finished with the painting exhibition, he headed back to his apartment. He needed to get out of this damn sweater. Luckily, his cell phone was out of battery, so nobody else could scream in desperation for his help which could not wait until he changed.

He was dropping his backpack on the computer chair, when the doorbell rang. Gods. Couldn't people give him a few minutes to change? Akihito opened the door harshly.

Asami was standing behind the door, smoking.

Akihito was so shocked, he forgot to close his mouth. Or breath.

Asami gave him a little smile.

"What do you want?" hissed Akihito as soon as his brain was able to work again.

"I came to take it," replied Asami.

What an obsessed owner, Akihito thought. "Oh fine. Just about time." He stepped back to the living room and pulled the sweater over his head. "I almost could not stand this anymore."

Asami frowned. But he walked in anyway and closed the door.

"Here." Akihito handed him the man's sweater. "Sorry I didn't tell you. I meant to. But I got caught up with things. Just send me the laundry bill, okay?"

Asami stared at the sweater in his hand, then he laughed softly. "Who needs this?" he tossed the precious piece of clothing to the floor. Shoeless, he stepped into the living room too. "The camera, Akihito."

Akihito blinked. "What camera?"

"Your camera. You took pictures of Kenjiro in the courtroom. I want the pictures deleted."

Akihito laughed, but that was more to cover his nervousness over finding out that Asami was not after the sweater. "Unfortunately, they've been downloaded."

"I know." Asami shrugged. "My men had made sure that they disappeared from Detective Sato's computer."

Akihito snorted. "But you figured that I must still be holding the original pictures. Well, it's quite a change to see you do the dirty job instead of sending your bodyguards to get them from me."

Asami dropped the still burning cigarette into a mug on the computer table. "I was gonna send them, but when I saw you looking this good, I decided to have the pleasure myself." He closed the distance between Akihito and himself.

Akihito moved away, however, Asami caught his wrist first, gripping tightly, not letting Akihito go, no matter how hard he struggled. He pulled Akihito closer to him, and cupped his face. "Now," he spoke up again, his lips so close to Akihito's lips, Akihito could almost taste the sweetness, "Do you want me to delete the files first, or do you want me to fuck you first?"

"You just fucked me last night," Akihito gaped, unable to avoid Asami's lips.

"Oh. But, Aki-chan, haven't you heard about 'there is no such things as enough'?"

"No...mmmpppphhhh...mmmmffff..."

So he got fucked first. Fortunately, in his bed instead of the floor. And Asami took his sweet time, no rushing, starting with a very long, very arousing foreplay, alternating a blowjob, a hand job and a tongue job. Akihito almost could not wait until Asami entered him, and when the man finally did that, he held on with his legs wrapped tightly around Asami's waist, and he did not let the man breaking the kiss.

After the sex, when Akihito was still catching his breath, Asami bound Akihito's hands together with his tie and attached it to the rail above Akihito's head. And while Akihito was wondering whether the man was going to fuck him a second him, which Akihito would gladly take, Asami got up and went to the living room. He came back to the bed with Akihito's digital camera.

Cuddling Akihito's head with one hand, Asami raised the hand holding the camera for Akihito to see, and with his thumb, he pressed the buttons to delete the pictures from the camera. Akihito snarled and growled and cursed with each disappearing file.

When he had finished, Asami kissed Akihito's hair.

"You can keep the sweater," he whispered, clamping Akihito's earlobe between his lips. "You look good in it. I'll have the Robbie Burns shop in Shinjuku to deliver a couple more for you."

And before Akihito could protest, Asami kissed him hard.

*

~end