If anyone has the complete series so far saved please let me know. I am missing parts of the story.Takaba and Asami The Bidders Takaba and Asami Part 2
Continuation of the story.
The woman’s lingerie ended the honeymoon. It sat in the corner of Asami’s bedroom on the silk blue chair, lace and pearls dripping off of the delicate sheers and satins. Takaba started at it, pushed up against Asami, body sinking up into its self as his mind refused to process.
“Nightee?” He finally gasped out, still looking at the chair, pressed to his lover. Asami stopped his kisses and turned to see what Takaba was talking about. The clothing stopped any lie he was about to tell.
“It’s Harumi isn’t it? I thought this was our place that she wasn’t going to come. I thought…” Stopping Takaba pushed back, slipping from the arms of Asami. “I’m an idiot. It's over.”
“She showed up last night, demanded to spend time with me…You knew I was married!” Asami shot back, crossing his arms and glaring at Takaba.
Head shaking he wanted to scream, claw out those eyes that dared him to argue and sink into a dark abyss and never come out. He was dense to think he could ignore the wife. It wasn’t going to happen.
“I have work tomorrow. I better go.”
“Wait!” Asami called, trying to keep up with the photographer running to the door. “You said you wouldn’t run away!”
Takaba, reaching to door, grabbed the doorknob and turned, “I lied!” He turned the handle and in a second realized it was turning itself.
“Asami!! I got out of work early!” A female voice called, pushing the door open. What she found was a husband with his shirt undone and pants hanging low. “Is there a date? Feeling more like yourself?” Harumi purred, sliding in, and finding Takaba behind the door.
“Hello?” It was a confused voice and Takaba cursed as his body flushed. It didn’t look good, him in his boxers and pants in hand.
“Asami? Asami! Explain yourself!”
Silence met the scream and she turned to each man, mouth opened and tears beginning to fall. Harumi wasn’t a fool and it looked like Asami was cheating.
“Takaba-san? Is that you? Why are you in my apartment?”
Shifting from foot to foot, Takaba looked at the floor and whispered something. “What?” She asked.
“I was invited by Asami…we were in the middle of…well fucking.” He got out lamely sounding like a little boy who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Asami on the other hand was beginning to see a silver lining to the problem and began to chuckle, which was met with two sets of shocked faces.
“You never connected the dots? I never wanted to have sex with you Harumi! I never looked at other women! What did you think I was? Sexless?”
“4 months. Takaba finally got back to Japan after running away from me.”
“4 months… and for what? I won’t divorce you and without my father’s name to back you up the underworld will eat you.” Cold eyes met Asami’s, cocky smile in place, hair flipped and nails curling into her hand.
“Who do you think introduced me to the male body, the pleasures? It is no secret your father had several lovers, and your mother didn’t care. She was too damaged to understand anything. Ever wonder why he married her? Think about it.”
Tabaka watched everything, trying to quietly put on his pants and inch towards the door all at once. It just fascinated him that Harumi had yakuza connections, not to mention how she had broken into American film markets. Backdoors had to have been used. Stopping he pulled the pants to his waist and buttoned them, avidly watching. Just thinking of the story made his head spin.
“You son of a bitch! My father loved her; just what he spent on her was enough proof… She was happy!”
“Really? Suicide tells another story dear.”
Tears ran down Harumi’s face as she shook her head, trying to deny everything. It took seconds before the slap was heard, Asami moving back, cradling his cheek, amused look still on his face.
“Get out!” It was growled at Asami, eyes flashing in warning.
“I own this apartment. You leave.”
She looked around, trying to find something to lash out at, and break. Her eyes landed on Takaba, finally dressed and slipping his shoes on.
“I’ll ruin you!” Screamed half crazed she lunged at the blonde, eyes wide open and nails set to cut the soft flesh. She never made it.
Asami grabbed the slim wrist and pushed it toward her forearm, stopping when he heard a slight snap. In tears Harumi fell to her knees, wrist still in her husband’s hand.
Takaba looked in horror, blindly grasping the door handle; it swung open and he stepped backwards, eyes locked with Asami’s own.
“It’s over. Good bye.” Whispered, he ran from the tears, the violence and his heart.
He knew he would never get over his yukaza.
The divorce hit the papers a month later, Harumi and Asami standing by the irreconcilable differences and the time away from each other breaking away the marriage. The movie star explained away the broken wrist from a riding accident, standing close to her soon to be ex husband, smile in place as they waved away rumors of abuse. Claiming to still be friends, they moved on, Asami alone, and Harumi in the arms of a co-worker.
Takaba felt sick at the article, writing his own explanation for the break up, hiding it in his laptop. Just seeing the truth neatly typed on his word document helped him get up each day and go to work. He cried in the silence and got a therapist. Time moved on and life settled for both men.
Fei Long sat behind his desk, phone in hand as he listened to the report on the Japanese business. This particular part of the report held the interest of the dark haired man. Asami was divorced, alone and Takaba similarly miserable. He shook his head and hung up, clicking his pen against the wood. When would his old friend learn to control his private life and “marry” the photographer? It was ridiculous how long the two had played this game of cat and mouse.
Hitting the intercom he leaned forward.
“Book me a plane ticket to Tokyo. Have a car waiting for me, and have my usual hotel room waiting.”
A feral smile met the blue eyes and the boy shuttered against the hard frame.
He pushed against the strange man in his Armani, grinding against the hard shaft in the man’s pants. Growls met each stroke, lips running down boy eyed kid. Closing his eyes he murmured the name of his lover.
He hit the wall, grime spreading alongside his back.
“Call me some thing else.” Spoken with a gruff voice it ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Foreigner.” He uttered, sliding his pale hands down his stomach, cupping his erection. “Show me a Japanese welcome.”
Asami grabbed him, kissing as hard as he could, violently trying to impress his body into this boy. His lover groaned and fell back, hands coming up to block the aggression.
“I play nice.” His red hair fell in his eye, and he grinned, licking his lips.
A snort came from Asami followed by a back handed slap and well placed kicks to the ribs.
Asami liked the word; it slid from his tongue caressing his lips. It sounded cruel, and if anything else he was here for punishment.
The boy winced, falling to the ground.
“Fuck off.” Whispered it sounded like a dog whimpering.
Instead the boy, clutching his sides, crawled away softly sobbing as each ach and pain pierced his sides. His sneakers squeaked, jeans grinding on the pavement as he dragged his body to safety.
Asami, ignoring the sounds, side steeped puddles filled with grime and needles, working his way from the alley toward the warmth of his awaiting car.
“I’ll call the police. You won’t get away with this bastard.”
The yakaza smiled, pulling his gun from the leather harness, and graceful turned placing a bullet between the boy’s eyes. The body hit the sidewalk, crimson blood staining the snow.
“Whore.” He whispered back, eyes closed. He wasn’t referring to his former playmate.