Distorted Daytime, Ch. 1/x
Title: Distorted Daytime
Chapters: 1/x
Author: konicoffee
Genre: Psychological Drama (somewhat), Angst, Smut
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.
Warnings: Sex. In this chapter, het. sex.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Aoi/Reita
Synopsis: He was Distorted Daytime’s highest paid agent, the most expensive agent in the business. His client was a company executive. A powerful woman. The target: her husband. Akira Suzuki.
Comments: Requested by kapoha. I know I said requests were to be one-shots or drabbles, but the premise that I thought of was a little too complex for me to squeeze in a one-shot, so this is going to be a multi-chapter fic. It won't be too long, though, as I still have another multi-chapter fic (Mizer House) to work on.
He stroked his tongue right up her center, right at her cleft. She closed her eyes and felt herself melting all over him.
“Mmm…I don’t…I don’t understand…”
He lifted his head to look at her. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of his black hair only slightly covering his beautiful eyes. Those lustful, dark eyes captured anyone that caught its gaze. He reached for her face and stroked her lips with his fingers, and dropped back down to lick her again. “I’m sure he likes you,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing her skin. His deep voice vibrated on her flesh, turning her on more. “It’s just that he loves his wife.”
Her breath froze as he continued taking her with his lips and his tongue. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth and slid it to her core. He rubbed her walls, curling his fingers and applying blissful pleasure on her sweet spot. All while he continued flicking at her cleft, making sure she could see his pink tongue devouring her. All while he stared at her with that delicious, dirty look.
He smirked as she released herself. And as she came apart, he kept going. He kept going until she reached out to him, begging him to fuck her.
Until his cellphone rang.
She let out a whimper as he backed away from her and pulled his fingers out of her mound. He quickly got to his feet, walked away from the bed, and answered the phone. She looked at him while he paced in her room in his boxers, murmuring at his cellphone. “I understand. I’ll be right there.” He pressed a random button and ended the call. He then walked into the bathroom. From there she heard water from the sink running.
Fuck, she thought as she groped around her room for her previously discarded lace panties. In about a minute or so he came out of the bathroom. He quietly picked up a piece of black fabric from the floor and handed it to her.
“The boss?” She said as she slipped her panties on.
He nodded. “Yep,” he replied, putting on a pair of pants. “It’s about your client. Well, she’s my client now.”
She gasped. “You don’t suppose the boss thinks the target is…”
Her sentence was cut off by his warm lips pressing on hers. He quickly pulled away from the kiss and gave her a smile. “Why else would he ignore a hot woman like you?” He said as he zipped his pants secure. She sighed while she watched him pick up his shirt from the floor and put it over his fine cut body. She had been the second agent the company sent for that particular client. But the target was such a tough customer. No matter how much of her charms she used, he just wouldn’t look at her.
Maybe he could do it, she thought.
In moments, he was heading for the door. “Are we gonna continue where we left off?” She asked.
He turned around and gave her a smirk. Her burden was now his. What did she need a pity fuck for?
“Don’t count on it.” And he left.
They were both agents for a company called Distorted Daytime. This company specialized in relationship annihilation, marriage wrecking, affair destruction, and reputation damage. People came to Distorted Daytime for various purposes, but all of them boiled down to their clients’ dislike of causing conflict. Women asked for help in seducing their husbands’ mistresses away. Husbands employed them to seduce their wives to provide grounds for divorce. Parents hired them to take away a disliked lover of their son or daughter. Company executives engaged their services to provide them reason to fire their employees or force them to resign. For the right price, Distorted Daytime dispatched their agents to end these relationships.
Distorted Daytime had the best looking, most seductive agents in their roster. Their list of agents included celebrities and models. All of their operatives were hired and trained to trail their targets and then seduce them, and once the company can provide evidence such as photos or videos, the job was done. All of them had near perfect success rates, but no one else had an immaculate record like him. He had never failed a job. No one else had the charisma he possessed. No one else had mastered the art of seduction at the level he did.
He was Distorted Daytime’s highest paid agent, the most expensive agent in the business. Whatever the client asked, he always did successfully. He always won the lust of his targets, regardless of gender, regardless of sexual orientation. This particular client asked the company to lure the target into an affair. Two female agents had failed to seduce the target. The company must have been desperate to feel the need to bring out the big gun that he was.
His client was a company executive. A powerful woman. The target: her husband. Akira Suzuki.
“This is the agent you’re sending out to seduce my husband?”
“Yes. He is our best operative. This is Aoi.”
He cracked a synthetic smile at the woman who kept her sunglasses on in the restaurant where he met her along with the man they called “the boss.” Aoi. So this was going to be his name for this mission. For every new job, he had to train himself to respond to the name that was assigned to him. He had lost count of the names he had to use, the identities he had to assume, and the matching disguises that came with them. He still remembered his real name, but for how long, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure how long it would take before he completely forgets his true identity.
Aoi observed the client. No sign of abuse, he thought. Her black hair was tied and twisted back in a tight bun. The clothes she wore were nothing flamboyant, but definitely not simple as Aoi noticed the intricate construction of her tailored jacket. And the only thing that had color on her face - her lips. Those lips were colored a harsh, painful shade of red. There’s no way she’s tired of her marriage. She’s too young.
“Do you think my husband is gay?”
“We’re not sure about that,” the boss replied. “But if he isn’t, Aoi here can fix that. This won’t be the first time he’d obliterate someone’s heterosexuality.” He then turned to Aoi who was quietly sipping his coffee. He slid an envelope on the table to Aoi’s direction. “This is your target.”
This was part of a routine before any job. The boss would give him a dossier on the client and a few photographs. The dossier would have the client’s background, daily schedule, and other information relevant to the task at hand. Just like the countless biographies he had read before. This was just another job to Aoi. He listlessly opened the envelope. As he drew out the sheets of the target’s dossier, a photograph fell onto the table. He picked up the photograph and stared at his target.
“That is Akira Suzuki,” the boss told him. Chunky blonde hair. Peach-colored skin. Thin lips and long, dark, fierce eyes on an otherwise gentle face. He was a beautiful target. But that was what he was - a target. This target had been the company’s most difficult one so far. He completely ignored the first agent who went after him, and he rejected the second agent. Both were among the most attractive female agents in Distorted Daytime. Aoi closed his eyes as he tried to remember the names these agents used for Suzuki’s case, as like him, their names changed with every job.
“How long do you think will it take?”
Aoi opened his eyes and looked at the client. He realized that he hadn’t spoken a word to her. “A month,” he said in the smoothest voice he could churn out. The client smiled, but the boss gaped at him.
“A month? You usually ask for a week.”
“It took Kumiko and Rin three months each to pursue him and get rejected, so I can’t be complacent,” Aoi retorted, still talking in his deep, icy voice. “I don’t intend to fail this job.”
He sipped his coffee as he read the target’s dossier. Suzuki was an associate professor at Hitotsubashi University’s College of Commerce and Management. He and his wife met through an omiai. Not too long after the omiai, they got married. They had been married for two years. They didn’t have children.
He now noticed that the client had taken her sunglasses off. He noticed that the client was staring at him intently. She looked at him with such longing. Such hunger. Such lust. Aoi fought the urge to laugh. He had seen this look on numerous clients and targets before. This hot, dirty look. He knew exactly what she wanted; her hands on him, and his hands all over her.
“When you’re done with my husband, do you think…?”
“Sorry, but that’s not part of my job description,” he replied coldly. He glanced at the boss. The boss didn’t seem to be bothered by Aoi’s reaction. Then again Aoi was far too valuable to be fired for a tiny streak of deviance.
Aoi set his coffee cup down, and he stood up. “You will get your divorce. I’ll make sure of it.” And he left.
Two days later, he was a student of Hitotsubashi University's marketing program. He had identification, a transcript of records on file in the school’s system, and a class schedule. Damn, he thought. The boss works fast. He sat in an auditorium with around a hundred more students as he waited for the lecturer, Akira Suzuki. Aoi was often able to decipher his quarries’ personalities through photographs. This man, however, was difficult to read. Aoi needed to see him in the flesh. To observe him. He needed to understand what turned this man on, what made him lust. He had to find the best method of attack.
The room went silent at the sound of a man clearing his throat. It was him. Akira Suzuki. He walked into the room, chin up, shoulders straight. He moved with so much confidence. He showed nothing of the gentleness that Aoi saw in his photographs. He’s much more beautiful up close.
“Today,” Akira uttered. “We will discuss Porter’s Five Forces.”
So here’s where the gentleness went. His voice was deep, almost growling, but tender. It was hard to describe, hard to explain. Aoi listened to Akira ramble on about industry analysis and competitive environmental conditions and market attractiveness. He listened to his voice, observed his movements, and noted his expressions as he did so.
“The major determinant of an industry’s competitive environment is the intensity of business rivalry.”
While everyone else in class took down notes, Aoi continued staring at the lecturer. He looked at his broad shoulders and the arms the blonde teacher moved around as he continued talking. From how the fabric of Akira’s dress shirt was behaving, Aoi could tell that underneath that piece of cloth was a fine, chiseled body. This target took care of himself well. Aoi tilted his head as he studied Akira some more. For his wife to want to leave him, he thought. She’s most likely seeing someone else.
“So after Rivalry, Consumer Buying Power, Supplier Bargaining Power, and Barriers to Entry,” Akira said. “What do you think is the last determining force to a competitive industry, according to Michael Porter?”
The room was silent, save for Aoi’s voice.
“The Threat of Substitutes.”
All eyes were now on the brunette agent. He could hear whispering, mostly from females who didn’t recognize him. But he didn’t care. His gaze was locked on the blonde associate professor. “Explain,” the lecturer said.
“When customers have more alternatives, market demand changes,” Aoi replied. “When there is a substitute, the need for the product is less.”
“Can you give an example?”
Aoi tried not to smile. He was tempted cite "a husband and another man" as his example, but he decided to play nice instead. “Some tea drinkers could switch to coffee, so that lessens the need for tea.”
He didn’t take his eyes off Akira as the blonde lecturer’s lips formed a smile. “Very good.” The whispering among students continued briefly before Akira talked again, rambling about product and service substitution. Aoi continued staring at the lecturer, but he pondered about that smile just now.
It was the emptiest smile he had ever seen.
Chapter 2
Chapters: 1/x
Author: konicoffee
Genre: Psychological Drama (somewhat), Angst, Smut
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.
Warnings: Sex. In this chapter, het. sex.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Aoi/Reita
Synopsis: He was Distorted Daytime’s highest paid agent, the most expensive agent in the business. His client was a company executive. A powerful woman. The target: her husband. Akira Suzuki.
Comments: Requested by kapoha. I know I said requests were to be one-shots or drabbles, but the premise that I thought of was a little too complex for me to squeeze in a one-shot, so this is going to be a multi-chapter fic. It won't be too long, though, as I still have another multi-chapter fic (Mizer House) to work on.
He stroked his tongue right up her center, right at her cleft. She closed her eyes and felt herself melting all over him.
“Mmm…I don’t…I don’t understand…”
He lifted his head to look at her. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of his black hair only slightly covering his beautiful eyes. Those lustful, dark eyes captured anyone that caught its gaze. He reached for her face and stroked her lips with his fingers, and dropped back down to lick her again. “I’m sure he likes you,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing her skin. His deep voice vibrated on her flesh, turning her on more. “It’s just that he loves his wife.”
Her breath froze as he continued taking her with his lips and his tongue. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth and slid it to her core. He rubbed her walls, curling his fingers and applying blissful pleasure on her sweet spot. All while he continued flicking at her cleft, making sure she could see his pink tongue devouring her. All while he stared at her with that delicious, dirty look.
He smirked as she released herself. And as she came apart, he kept going. He kept going until she reached out to him, begging him to fuck her.
Until his cellphone rang.
She let out a whimper as he backed away from her and pulled his fingers out of her mound. He quickly got to his feet, walked away from the bed, and answered the phone. She looked at him while he paced in her room in his boxers, murmuring at his cellphone. “I understand. I’ll be right there.” He pressed a random button and ended the call. He then walked into the bathroom. From there she heard water from the sink running.
Fuck, she thought as she groped around her room for her previously discarded lace panties. In about a minute or so he came out of the bathroom. He quietly picked up a piece of black fabric from the floor and handed it to her.
“The boss?” She said as she slipped her panties on.
He nodded. “Yep,” he replied, putting on a pair of pants. “It’s about your client. Well, she’s my client now.”
She gasped. “You don’t suppose the boss thinks the target is…”
Her sentence was cut off by his warm lips pressing on hers. He quickly pulled away from the kiss and gave her a smile. “Why else would he ignore a hot woman like you?” He said as he zipped his pants secure. She sighed while she watched him pick up his shirt from the floor and put it over his fine cut body. She had been the second agent the company sent for that particular client. But the target was such a tough customer. No matter how much of her charms she used, he just wouldn’t look at her.
Maybe he could do it, she thought.
In moments, he was heading for the door. “Are we gonna continue where we left off?” She asked.
He turned around and gave her a smirk. Her burden was now his. What did she need a pity fuck for?
“Don’t count on it.” And he left.
They were both agents for a company called Distorted Daytime. This company specialized in relationship annihilation, marriage wrecking, affair destruction, and reputation damage. People came to Distorted Daytime for various purposes, but all of them boiled down to their clients’ dislike of causing conflict. Women asked for help in seducing their husbands’ mistresses away. Husbands employed them to seduce their wives to provide grounds for divorce. Parents hired them to take away a disliked lover of their son or daughter. Company executives engaged their services to provide them reason to fire their employees or force them to resign. For the right price, Distorted Daytime dispatched their agents to end these relationships.
Distorted Daytime had the best looking, most seductive agents in their roster. Their list of agents included celebrities and models. All of their operatives were hired and trained to trail their targets and then seduce them, and once the company can provide evidence such as photos or videos, the job was done. All of them had near perfect success rates, but no one else had an immaculate record like him. He had never failed a job. No one else had the charisma he possessed. No one else had mastered the art of seduction at the level he did.
He was Distorted Daytime’s highest paid agent, the most expensive agent in the business. Whatever the client asked, he always did successfully. He always won the lust of his targets, regardless of gender, regardless of sexual orientation. This particular client asked the company to lure the target into an affair. Two female agents had failed to seduce the target. The company must have been desperate to feel the need to bring out the big gun that he was.
His client was a company executive. A powerful woman. The target: her husband. Akira Suzuki.
“This is the agent you’re sending out to seduce my husband?”
“Yes. He is our best operative. This is Aoi.”
He cracked a synthetic smile at the woman who kept her sunglasses on in the restaurant where he met her along with the man they called “the boss.” Aoi. So this was going to be his name for this mission. For every new job, he had to train himself to respond to the name that was assigned to him. He had lost count of the names he had to use, the identities he had to assume, and the matching disguises that came with them. He still remembered his real name, but for how long, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure how long it would take before he completely forgets his true identity.
Aoi observed the client. No sign of abuse, he thought. Her black hair was tied and twisted back in a tight bun. The clothes she wore were nothing flamboyant, but definitely not simple as Aoi noticed the intricate construction of her tailored jacket. And the only thing that had color on her face - her lips. Those lips were colored a harsh, painful shade of red. There’s no way she’s tired of her marriage. She’s too young.
“Do you think my husband is gay?”
“We’re not sure about that,” the boss replied. “But if he isn’t, Aoi here can fix that. This won’t be the first time he’d obliterate someone’s heterosexuality.” He then turned to Aoi who was quietly sipping his coffee. He slid an envelope on the table to Aoi’s direction. “This is your target.”
This was part of a routine before any job. The boss would give him a dossier on the client and a few photographs. The dossier would have the client’s background, daily schedule, and other information relevant to the task at hand. Just like the countless biographies he had read before. This was just another job to Aoi. He listlessly opened the envelope. As he drew out the sheets of the target’s dossier, a photograph fell onto the table. He picked up the photograph and stared at his target.
“That is Akira Suzuki,” the boss told him. Chunky blonde hair. Peach-colored skin. Thin lips and long, dark, fierce eyes on an otherwise gentle face. He was a beautiful target. But that was what he was - a target. This target had been the company’s most difficult one so far. He completely ignored the first agent who went after him, and he rejected the second agent. Both were among the most attractive female agents in Distorted Daytime. Aoi closed his eyes as he tried to remember the names these agents used for Suzuki’s case, as like him, their names changed with every job.
“How long do you think will it take?”
Aoi opened his eyes and looked at the client. He realized that he hadn’t spoken a word to her. “A month,” he said in the smoothest voice he could churn out. The client smiled, but the boss gaped at him.
“A month? You usually ask for a week.”
“It took Kumiko and Rin three months each to pursue him and get rejected, so I can’t be complacent,” Aoi retorted, still talking in his deep, icy voice. “I don’t intend to fail this job.”
He sipped his coffee as he read the target’s dossier. Suzuki was an associate professor at Hitotsubashi University’s College of Commerce and Management. He and his wife met through an omiai. Not too long after the omiai, they got married. They had been married for two years. They didn’t have children.
He now noticed that the client had taken her sunglasses off. He noticed that the client was staring at him intently. She looked at him with such longing. Such hunger. Such lust. Aoi fought the urge to laugh. He had seen this look on numerous clients and targets before. This hot, dirty look. He knew exactly what she wanted; her hands on him, and his hands all over her.
“When you’re done with my husband, do you think…?”
“Sorry, but that’s not part of my job description,” he replied coldly. He glanced at the boss. The boss didn’t seem to be bothered by Aoi’s reaction. Then again Aoi was far too valuable to be fired for a tiny streak of deviance.
Aoi set his coffee cup down, and he stood up. “You will get your divorce. I’ll make sure of it.” And he left.
Two days later, he was a student of Hitotsubashi University's marketing program. He had identification, a transcript of records on file in the school’s system, and a class schedule. Damn, he thought. The boss works fast. He sat in an auditorium with around a hundred more students as he waited for the lecturer, Akira Suzuki. Aoi was often able to decipher his quarries’ personalities through photographs. This man, however, was difficult to read. Aoi needed to see him in the flesh. To observe him. He needed to understand what turned this man on, what made him lust. He had to find the best method of attack.
The room went silent at the sound of a man clearing his throat. It was him. Akira Suzuki. He walked into the room, chin up, shoulders straight. He moved with so much confidence. He showed nothing of the gentleness that Aoi saw in his photographs. He’s much more beautiful up close.
“Today,” Akira uttered. “We will discuss Porter’s Five Forces.”
So here’s where the gentleness went. His voice was deep, almost growling, but tender. It was hard to describe, hard to explain. Aoi listened to Akira ramble on about industry analysis and competitive environmental conditions and market attractiveness. He listened to his voice, observed his movements, and noted his expressions as he did so.
“The major determinant of an industry’s competitive environment is the intensity of business rivalry.”
While everyone else in class took down notes, Aoi continued staring at the lecturer. He looked at his broad shoulders and the arms the blonde teacher moved around as he continued talking. From how the fabric of Akira’s dress shirt was behaving, Aoi could tell that underneath that piece of cloth was a fine, chiseled body. This target took care of himself well. Aoi tilted his head as he studied Akira some more. For his wife to want to leave him, he thought. She’s most likely seeing someone else.
“So after Rivalry, Consumer Buying Power, Supplier Bargaining Power, and Barriers to Entry,” Akira said. “What do you think is the last determining force to a competitive industry, according to Michael Porter?”
The room was silent, save for Aoi’s voice.
“The Threat of Substitutes.”
All eyes were now on the brunette agent. He could hear whispering, mostly from females who didn’t recognize him. But he didn’t care. His gaze was locked on the blonde associate professor. “Explain,” the lecturer said.
“When customers have more alternatives, market demand changes,” Aoi replied. “When there is a substitute, the need for the product is less.”
“Can you give an example?”
Aoi tried not to smile. He was tempted cite "a husband and another man" as his example, but he decided to play nice instead. “Some tea drinkers could switch to coffee, so that lessens the need for tea.”
He didn’t take his eyes off Akira as the blonde lecturer’s lips formed a smile. “Very good.” The whispering among students continued briefly before Akira talked again, rambling about product and service substitution. Aoi continued staring at the lecturer, but he pondered about that smile just now.
It was the emptiest smile he had ever seen.
Chapter 2