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Stockings & Sunflowers	By : TeeDee Category: +S to Z > Viewfinder Views: 3825 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Stockings & Sunflowers

Genre: Viewfinder

Pairing:Asami/Takaba

Rating: R

Summary: The response to ingenius_inc's request for Takaba in fishnet stockings. It was an open one, so I hope nobody minds my response. It just sounded so fun! This is pure Asami x Takaba.

Erm, this was all done today. I hope it's enjoyed!

Stockings & Sunflowers

Honeyed eyes glared at Asami, full lips reddened by chewing pulled back from grit teeth in an angry sneer that couldn�t quite distract the yakuza from the red flush staining those cheeks with shame. Earlier that evening, having found himself at club Sion to face the perverted bastard down over his newest low, Takaba had stormed past Blondie straight to the office Asami always seemed to haunt when he was present there, and the situation, from that point, had gone straight to hell. Really, he should have seen it coming, but was that possible?

Details weren�t the problem, the problem laid in the fact that his arms were bound by the wrists above his head, tingling from the lacking blood flow, his clothes were stripped from him (and in a few instances cut right off with an expensive little pocket knife), and his dignity was thrown to the wind in the form of a slimming sunflower yellow dress cut unreasonably low.

Unreasonably low! Bristling in anger at his ludicrous thought, Takaba continued to glare into those cool dark eyes tainted with amusement. On a female this sleeveless dress would have been seen as indecent, but he was no girl and this was sick. He. Was. Male. And the dress, though it fit well to cover his lack of breasts, barely fell to mid-thigh, with nothing beneath to offer dignity. The smallest shift would give the bastard a flash of what was under it so he didn�t dare to move, no matter how fragile the chains that bound him felt.

This situation was so far out of the realm of possibility in Takaba�s mind that he still had trouble grasping that there he was, fishnets pulled over his legs high enough that they vanished beneath the obscene skirt of the dress, and he was wearing said dress. While, might he add, Asami stood not ten paces away, leisurely drawing smoke into blackened lungs and eyeing the younger male with hungry contentment. Already the heavy overcoat was discarded in a neat pile on the top of a stand, but the white blouse and dark tie had yet to be loosened.

�You make a beautiful girl, Akihito,� Asami Ryuuichi mocked, gaze once more trailing down the shapely legs hugged in black netting, �as I expected.� It was true. Delicate in body and soft of feature, Takaba had always been more beautiful than handsome.

�Whore, you mean,� Takaba snapped peevishly, tightening his fists and tugging down again while trying not to move his lower body. He failed miserably, evident in the way Asami�s smirk twitched and the eyes flicked to where the end of his dress had rode only seconds before.

Darkness stole back into those eyes with the cold words. �Pet, not whore. I own your body. Nobody else touches it.� The cigarette was put out and Asami stalked the short distance between them, circling his body just beyond the reach of Takaba�s legs. Not that Takaba would be willing to kick at him and expose his vulnerable points, that would be asking for rape.

The already thick smell of smoke was strengthened with Asami�s exhalation as the man came to a stop in front of him once more, blowing the smoke into his face and making his eyes water despite his resolve not to cry this time. But, damnit, this was embarrassing! With hands bound over his head and the dress as short as it was, he was forced to stand ramrod straight and didn�t dare to struggle for reasons already mentioned.

�Little difference,� Takaba spit in response, eyeing the other in trepidation. Asami didn�t care, brushing his hand through air as though shooing off the question.

�A good little boy would spread his legs and be silent until given reason to be loud.� The neutral tone in Asami�s deep voice rippled down his spine to warm Takaba�s groin. Takaba bit into his cheek until blood dribbled between his teeth, fighting until he was certain that, thankfully, there would be no worse response, in the meantime letting his eyes convey his feelings on those words and the undesired emotions swirling in his abdomen. Reacting to him without a touch - not for the first time - and in something so close to his skin, there�d be no hiding it, or covering the lies that would expose him so much more intimately.

Silence was taken as a sign by the man that his captive was breaking down and in seconds Takaba found his body pressing to the other�s white-shirted chest, held there by a muscular arm draped around his back between it and his hands. Spluttering outrage, Takaba squirmed - and stopped instants later when he felt the tightening of the material at his lower regions caused from the friction, a response mirrored by the front of Asami�s expensive pants. Swallowing dryly, Takaba�s honey eyes met the others and his small form shuddered at the heat that met him in the ebon pools.

Asami released him from the ties over his head, but only to have the hands bound once more behind his back. It made it difficult for Takaba not to arch his midsection forward as he was seized the drawn down onto the yakuza�s lap on the same couch where they�d had sex before, face to face with the perverted bastard. Asami chucked as Takaba glared, slipping his hands down from the younger man�s slim waist to caress down the skirt riding up his thighs and over the netted stockings on the legs straddling his thighs by default. The feel of skin slipping between the strings of the false covering was unexpectedly erotic, sending a pulse of expectance through is abdomen and to the hardening flesh now pressing against his self-proclaimed owner�s own groin.

�These fit you well,� Asami pointed out, the stay locks of his hair brushing Takaba�s face as he breathed in some imagined scent from Takaba�s hair, continuing the exploration down to below the other�s ear. Any answers Takaba might have had died on his parting lips as those broad hands rose and dipped beneath the skirt of the dress he wore to cup the cheeks of his backside and squeezed. The gasp falling free from Takaba doubled with a shiver when one of the man�s fingertips grazed the pucker in the crevice between the handfuls of taut flesh.

Again Asami squeezed, and Takaba arched against the man�s clothed body, the erection straining against the yellow fabric grinding the one inside Asami�s pants. Still the bastard made no move to free his own erection, squeezing a third time - harder - and rubbing them together while Takaba still struggled against the dictations of instinct.

It was after this that Asami finally moved further, shoving the rumpled material higher over Takaba�s thighs until it bunched above his hips, giving access to all that the yakuza wanted. Not liking where this was going, or especially how his body was reacting to it, Takaba tried pulling back but ended up with an arm once more looped around his back. Words started to pour from his tongue but the look in the larger man�s eyes spoke amused expectation of words and Takaba refused to follow the rules of this game.

Asami, however, didn�t seem to mind the deviation from their usual script, and instead fondled Takaba�s balls near the junction, licking down his chin and over his lips while Takaba refused to give entrance to his mouth, the only gasps he�d let himself issue now hissing through clenched teeth. The only show he gave of his arousal, save the flush in his cheeks, was the growing dampness at the front of the dress where his erection lumped out the material.

Takaba�s restraint lasted only until Asami released himself from his pants, not bothering with the time to remove the surrounding clothing from either of them, and imbedded himself into Takaba�s body. The perverted yakuza knew where to aim inside, and a cloud of pain and pleasure wrapped over the young man�s mind as Asami�s hands closed hard on his lower legs and they rode out the storm together.

It lasted no more than a minute, Takaba�s scream chocked by his biting into Asami�s tie deep enough for the youth to taste the soap in the material pressed against the back of his throat. Then the intensity was past, leaving only the rumpled image they made behind as an afterthought.

Asami, still dressed in the expensive suit, was little worse for the wear, though the bottom of the shirt would have to be covered until the man could get a new one, the ejaculation he�d released into Takaba having dribbled from the crack around the wilting shaft to spatter on the pale satin, and the hands stretched down over the long, bare legs of his younger lover had fuzzy black material caught in the corners of his nails. Takaba�s stockings were torn from Asami�s rough grabs leading them to orgasm, the cause of the clinging strings on the man�s hands, and the dress Takaba wore was stained a darker shade in the patches where his sweat had boiled thickest from flushed skin and where he�d spilled his seed into the folds of material. It would be amazing if washing would ever take out the scent of what they�d done�

Takaba sagged against the bare chest, the soft material moist beneath his face, and breathed in the bitter scent of Asami�s sweat, trying to blink away the moisture clinging to his lashes. Who was it Asami wanted him to be, he wondered hollowly, for the first time questioning where the dress he wore had come from.

He didn�t realize he�d murmured those words until he received the answer, and by then he was almost given over to the exhaustion and the answer would have to be dissected another day.

�Takaba Akihito.�

The long fingers threading through sweaty ginger locks were missed completely. And later, when Takaba awoke stretched over Asami�s lap with the dress discarded and only the torn stockings remaining as proof of what they�d done, nothing could be farther from the angry youth�s mind than such intimacies or the fear of what girl Asami knew well enough to have gotten this dress from her.

Not once would it occur to him, so soon, that the dress was just his size, from the chest down to the way it wrapped about his thighs - and with almost no give for where hips should have been on a girl. Nor would he wonder if, perhaps, he wasn't the only one to have lost control of the situation.

~ The End ~

*Bows Low* Ta~da! My first sex scene ever shared.
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Stockings & Sunflowers