Shot?

In the hospital, Keita sat next to the feverish boy, propped up against supportive pillows, softly crying in his feverish sleep. He really felt sorry for him. He looked like a disheveled, shaggy kitten in pain.



“No… Asami…ASAMI…” It had been like that the whole day already. The photographer was calling for his boss, hot tears running down his face, struggling against unseen attackers. He had thrashed around so badly, that Dr. Yamaguchi had to restrain the boy to keep him from injuring himself.



He sighed and once more ran the cold, wet cloth over Takaba’s forehead. He really didn’t know how he all of a sudden ended up as a nurse for the boy, but it seemed to help the kid at least a bit.



His phone rang.



“How is he?”



“Asami-sama.” He acknowledged his boss. “He is calling for you in his sleep.”



Silence.



“Tell Yamaguchi that I’ll take him home tomorrow.”



“Yes, Asami-sama.”



He hung up with a relieved smile. He hated hospitals. People died in hospitals. He needed a break. It wouldn’t be long and the boy would somehow relive some strange on-goings with his boss and sound like a professional porn-star again. He’d moan and sigh and god knows what. Too much. Way too much.



He took up the cloth again and continued to cool the smaller man down.



“You’ll be going home soon, Aki-chan. Won’t you like that? The boss is taking you home tomorrow.”



God. Now he even started talking to the unconscious body on the bed. He really, really needed a break.



*****



When Asami walked into the penthouse he just threw his coat on the couch in passing, and continued on to the room behind the kitchen. It was supposed to be a utility-room, but had never been used.



He opened the door to see if everything had been finished as promised.



Weird looking equipment was covering one wall, while another held a sink and work-space. Across was a desk, where a computer and printers were built in and huge stacks of paper piled neatly in a shelf. Of course, everything was top of the line. He thought that Akihito would appreciate a play-room of his own, so had a company come in and transform the once empty room into a dark-room and office for his pet. He’d love playing with his camera-stuff in there. Asami didn’t recognize any of the machines occupying half of the room, but he was told that a professional photographer needed them. So he bought them. For his boy. To make him happy.



Satisfied, he turned off the lights and closed the door. He went back to the living room where Akira already had his tumbler filled with his favorite drink waiting for him.



Ah, they had also delivered the stylish showcase for Akihito’s cameras. Black, sleek and minimalistic. Exactly as he had wanted it. All he needed to do was to put the cameras in there and another project was finished. He felt accomplished.



Taking the glass from Akira, he went over to the recliner and relaxed into it. Asami went through his checklist in his mind, making sure everything was done on schedule. The pet’s stuff moved- check; cameras repaired- check; clothes for the pet- check and play-room set up- check.



Another smile. His play-room set up- check; toys for the boys- double-check. Yes, he hadn’t forgotten anything. He was ready for Akihito moving in.



Tomorrow morning he would take his and Akihito’s family registers to the shiyakusho*, the already counter-signed kon-in-todoke*, wait for the kon-in-todoke-juri-shomeisho* to be issued and then take it and the new family register to his bank vault. He couldn’t risk having these papers anywhere near the kitten. They would all be locked safely away until the kitten got used to the idea of being committed. Thanks to his station with the city officials his family registry would be sealed, while his pet would just be taken off his parent’s registry. It was great to be Asami. There was really nothing he couldn’t get done.



Akihito Asami. He liked the sound of it.



“Akira, you can turn in for tonight.”



“Good night Asami-sama.”



*****



After the dark-haired bodyguard left, Asami went to his bedroom to finally put Akihito’s clothes away. Everything that had been delivered today had been taken care of, that just left the suitcases for him.



The first thing he did was opening two drawers of his dresser to take the horrible boxers out and throw them away. He almost reverently opened the cases and looked at their contents. It was mind-blowing. He took each single item out, inspected it and put it in the drawer. Knowing that his ‘wife’ would wear the outrageous lingerie would surely drive him crazy over time. The silky g-strings were tiny, flimsy bits of nothing, designed to send every normal man over the edge. He would make his kitten model every single one of them for him.



Now, the leather ones were truly a piece of art. Barely large enough to cover anything, they spelled pure eroticism. Groaning he tried to clear his mind of the picture of Akihito, standing before him, his back a long elegant line of smooth skin, parted by an enticing bit of leather around his waist, coming together at the small of his back to then disappear into the sweetness of his firm ass. Leaving nothing to imagination. He got jealous of a string. It would be where he should be.



Another picture flashed through his mind. This time his beautiful lover was sprawled on the bed, his golden skin accentuated by the faux mink throw he bought to keep his lover warm and comfortable. The kitten was pure sex, stretching his arms high above his head, wrists adorned in platinum, securely fastened to the bolts in the frame. His chest was covered in sweat, he was panting with desire for his master. The movements of his Adam’s apple made the collar move in sync. It would look great on his boy. His need given away by the way the deerskin pouch was stretched to its limit, filled with his pet’s throbbing erection, barely containing it. His legs were spread wait, beckoning Asami to take him. Hard and fast. As much as he protested, Akihito loved to be taken like that. He needed his dominant love-making to fully be satisfied by his lover. And Asami was more than willing to comply. It fit his predatory nature to take control of his prey’s body, playing it like a musical instrument.



He had to stop this. Now.



With a regretful look at his tented middle, Asami continued to fill first one, then the other drawer. He locked one of them, Akihito would not be allowed to play with those strings by himself. They were made of steel mesh, leather and studs. The pet could easily hurt himself. He would supervise his boy when he wanted to put them on.



He left the cases to be put away the next day and went to go take another cold shower. It really was time for his boy to come home. From the hospital. Being sick. With a cold. And a gunshot wound. Stupid brat.



*******



The next morning passed in a flurry of activities with Akira trying to cope with the fact that his boss had gotten married. He hadn’t seen that one coming. At all. To the brat. Just thinking about it made him want to run for cover before the apocalypse would strike. And it would. He wanted to be at a faraway place when Aki-chan found out. That he got married. To the most powerful man in Japan, if not of all of Asia. Shit. And he hadn’t even have to be there. Asami had pulled a few strings and pulled if off. And had pulled him in. His boss made him counter-sign the kon-in-todoke. As in, he was involved. As in, he knew all about it. As in, he was dead.



As excellently trained as he was, he was no match for one irate photographer. Not because he couldn’t match him physically, hell, he would take on anyone who even looked at him wrong. No, it was because he was always afraid that he would break the kid. Literally break him, when he was forced to touch the fragile boy. He never told anyone, but it really scared him. After all, he was the only one who knew the full extent of his strength. He. Was. So. Dead. How did one deal with that?



He sighed, realizing that help couldn’t be found anywhere. Keita, if told, would only laugh one of his rare bellows, not really trying to make him feel better. His boss looked rather happy with himself and wouldn’t understand that his second-best man was intimidated by a mouse. With claws. And sharp teeth. Stupid brat.



*****



Asami felt great on his wedding day. Now, all he needed to do was get his blushing bride. Or actually his feverish kitten.



He sighed. There would be no wedding-night, no promise of a multitude of untold pleasures. Not really. Akihito was sick. And needed to be cared for. By his husband. He liked the sound of that. He was a husband now. Husband.



Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but the prospect of telling Akihito was a rather intimidating one. Not that he was scared of the kitten. But thinking about how he would tell him made him feel a bit uncomfortable. Not actually the telling itself, no, more the questions that could follow. He wasn’t ready for that. In a way. When he had called the mayor to tell him what he needed, he had done it to ensure the boy was his. His alone. Always been and always will be. And he had thought it through, hadn’t he?

He never acted on impulse, doing that was dangerous when living a life like he did. It was a balancing act on a tightrope. Keeping up the image in order to do his work. He played chess on the largest chess-board imaginable. The underworld, the seedy, unsavory world of criminals, mobsters and yakuza. Yes, he never corrected anyone calling him a yakuza. In truth, his business was pretty much set up in the same rigid structures, but he was never a part of them. No, his job was to keep them in reign, to control them and make sure that they didn’t stray from the paths he set them on. It was tiring. But Japan relied on him. On his ability to keep the rabid dogs on a leash. A very short leash. There were only a few people who knew the truth. He never felt compelled to talk about it, so he didn’t. Now, he had to. His wife. His lover. The keeper of his sanity.



*********************

*shiyakusho=Japanese: City office

*kon-in-todoke=Japanese: Form to register a marriage

*kon-in-todoke-juri-shomeisho= Japanese: Receipt of Registration of marriage