[fic] VF: AxF AU: A Matter of Trust
Title: VF: AU: A Matter of Trust
Characters: Asami x Feilong
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None; Warnings: AU, Takaba doesn't exist on this planet (see LA Story)
Disclaimer: This is a work borne of love for Yamane-sensei's characters, two of whom I've had my way with here.
Note: This is a sequel to LA Story (@ My LJ, YA, Sion). And also, *ahem*, a very very very belated birthday present (as in months) to our beloved mtarashidango.
(Sorry to those who would have liked an AxA story, but I'd planned this one for M for months. Next time I will write of them.) (And btw, the tense mixing is intentional.)
"Does it ever bother you, what we do?"
I'd been watching him get dressed in front of the hotel's full length mirror, each movement precise and economical as he buttoned his vest, then set his cufflinks just so. I didn't think he realized that he looked like a samurai attending to his armor before battle when he did this. But then, everything about him was armor or weapon. Sometimes I wondered if I was merely an additional piece of it when I walked into meetings at his side.
His answer was on the end of a sly glance. "No. Is that what was bothering you all night?"
It was annoying to be read so easily. No one else would have noticed anything amiss. Except perhaps Tao. Which brought me back to the same place.
"Not bothering me," I snapped, just to be contrary and not let his head get any fuller. "It's just been at the back of my mind for a few weeks. You seemed the ideal person to talk to about it."
Asami finished adjusting his tie, giving himself that smug 'Could I be any more perfect?' look in the mirror before turning back to me. He moved to the phone and pressed the number for room service.
"Two Japanese breakfasts, tea not coffee." And hung up. No niceties. I wondered how often servers spit on his food. Probably never if they wanted to live.
"Would you stop ordering for me? I detest Japanese breakfasts."
His eyes sparkled at the show of defiance and he snagged me around the waist, the thick terrycloth of the hotel bathrobe pressing against my still-sensitive-from-morning-sex skin.
"It's good for your girlish figure." I felt one of his hands slip lower to the edge of the robe, fingers dipping underneath and tickling as they slid up my thigh. Nice, but it didn't compensate for his comment.
Without thinking my hands found his pressure points at wrist and elbow, and he swore softly as I easily moved out of his grip. I always treasure those little moments when I catch him unawares and remind him of the assassin part on my resume. Oddly, I get the feeling he treasures them too.
But I wanted him to focus, so I had to push the point and stay out of reach.
He often needs to be forced to conversation. When a topic bores him, which is most of the time, he'll resort to sex to avoid it. His mind is very quick, and he leaps to conclusions with a facility that's sometimes frightening. When others don't reach the same conclusions and as quickly, he seeks to divert them just so he doesn't have to explain himself at length. I think he believes that sex with him is more than adequate compensation for any inconvenience.
I felt his eyes tracking me as I slid out of grasping range, his mind clicking as he calculated the easiest way to accomplish his goal.
I moved to the far side of the room, back against the wall, letting him know that his attacks would be futile. "I ran into someone I knew as a teenager; I'd not seen him in a while."
He sighed a little and gave in, half sitting on the credenza behind him and reaching into his suit for his cigarettes.
"He used to work for us, but after his brother was killed he quit to take over the family business. A tourist boat. Business isn't spectacular with the economy, but he was happy despite that."
After lighting up, Asami had started to put the pack of cigarettes back then seemed to think better of it and left it on the table at his side with lighter and a glance of polite boredom at me, a small form of protest. I hid my laughter. I knew he was listening to every word, every nuance to my speech, if only so he could shut it down as quickly as possible.
"He remembered me of course. Was properly deferential and all that. But when his young son came outside to see what was happening, he didn't let him into my presence. The boy, he was about 13."
"Tao's age."
As I said, Asami was listening acutely.
I nodded my head once. "I'd always congratulated myself on that act of charity, of saving Tao, without thought of what I was bringing him into. It's a way of life for me, and I turned out fine."
I saw a small snort of smoke pass from Asami's lips. I almost told him to stop it, but that would break the détente. Instead I just shot a glare at him and the responding laughter I saw in his eyes gave me a warm glow that I never intended to show him. But he must have seen it because his look suddenly became heated.
I shifted my eyes away and quickly continued, "But I have to wonder, do I have the right to make this choice for him? The only choice I made while growing up was to please my father. I never gave the morality of this business of ours much thought. And now I find that I've become a person whose morals are already shaped to accept whatever I have to do to keep this business afloat. I don't want Tao to be faced with the same dilemma, an adult whose choices have already been made for him."
Asami casually stretched his legs out in front of him, his eyes on mine as I watched him formulate an answer. It was like waiting for the computer to spit out its results, only faster. And his conclusions were generally more to the point, even if I didn't always want to hear what he had to say.
"Are you putting a gun in his hand?"
"No!" I sputtered, "Of course not!"
"Are you telling him stories of your glorious conquests of rival gangs?"
"What glorious conquests?"
"Indeed. What face do you show him, Feilong, when you return from an evening of... business?"
I thought of the nights I'd returned, exhausted over negotiations, disappointed when they'd devolved into violence. Yes, there were some deaths and deals I savored, but there wasn't a time I couldn't wait to scrub them from my skin. And Tao was always there, wasn't he, eyes serious, falling into clumsiness and childishness to distract and amuse me. My eyes dropped so Asami wouldn't see the new awareness in them. I was showing Tao no illusions. He might be a child, but he was well aware of the price of our lifestyle.
Fingers lifted my chin. Dammit, how did he move so quickly and silently? But instead of his lips and tongue pushing into me, his gaze did.
"Is he a fool, Feilong?"
Are you, Feilong? Of course I heard the other question, and he knew it. I shook his hand off angrily. He accepted that and placed it on the wall to the side of my head, and bent closer, speaking more softly, almost gently, though I wasn't fooled.
"You haven't whitewashed anything. So back off and trust him to make his decisions wisely with open eyes. It's what a parent does for a child raised properly. And what you do when you truly respect and love someone." His lips traced along my cheek. "His decisions will make you proud."
His quiet words hit me like a punch to the gut. My father had said nothing until the end, but how much had he said without words as he watched me make my choices? How much had I missed? And Asami, leaving me to stand on my own or fall, but not pushing me into making the choice he'd wanted. Yet if he saw that as a sign of respect and love... Love? From Asami? Could he really mean that?
I looked up to see his satisfied eyes close to mine. What was that soft pride I saw? As if this was all his doing. Arrogant prick. I lifted my chin defiantly. The eyes watching me narrowed in amusement. I wanted to wipe it from him and moved closer, brushing my lips up that impossible chin, my tongue leaving a light trail until it slipped home between his lips. His eyes widened, then darkened and filled with something he'd never say as he slammed me back against the wall.
This. This is what I could do for him that no other could, this ripping of control and armor from him to get at the raw passion underneath. So I never minded when I always followed soon after.
Later as I relaxed upon on the bed, his body heavy on top of mine, I wondered that I never quite remembered much of what happened when we had sex. But some things were imprinted on my memory so that I never forgot: His wet lips sucking my cock deep into his mouth. Movement inside of me, a battering ram breaching a claimed territory. His eyes, at first holding onto a semblance of control and losing even that until they were wild as they watched me, and finally slipping closed as he came, as if he wouldn't let even me see them at that moment. Those things were a part of me now, and I couldn't live without them any more than I could live without air.
His breath in my ear was steady once again though. And I knew he would soon rise and straighten his suit before heading off to battle. For some reason the thought bothered me. I'd wanted to leave more of an impression on him. A mark of sorts. But I knew that even if I did, I'd never see sign of it. I wiggled a bit in protest, because if I made him leave, I'd feel better about it.
He snorted for some reason, then rolled to the side and stood up, straightening his clothes. When he turned around, he was again immaculate.
"You don't even look like you've spent the last twenty minutes fucking your heart out," I said with disgust.
"Is that what I was doing?" he asked lightly, holding a hand out to me.
The implication so shocked me that I couldn't look directly at him, because if it weren't true, if I were misconstruing, the pain would be unbearable.
"Feilong." His voice had deepened and I couldn't help but look up. He moved his hand an inch closer to me, offering it again.
I watched it warily. What was he offering? His eyes held no clue, only patience. I knew I was a fool for not asking, but how could I?
Yet there he was, trusting that I would understand him.
Trusting...
Sometimes it's a wonder my loved ones don't knock my head against the wall in frustration. Then again... I glanced back at the headboard and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.
"How long...?" I started to ask, but couldn't finish.
"I never rush to close a deal if it will gain me more by waiting."
"Of course." A non-answer, but one he assumed I'd understand. And that was my real answer, wasn't it?
How could I not meet my dearest enemy on common ground?
I took his hand, and with a powerful tug and one well-placed foot behind one knee, knocked him to the bed. I rose up, straddling his hips, getting his suit dirty with the sweat and semen on my skin, marking him.
Whimsically I tugged at a strand of my hair, pulling it loose, and tied it about his upper arm.
He stared at me, bemused, watching me with that cool amusement that meant his game face was back on. "What's this? Witchcraft?"
"Perhaps."
I didn't tell him that it was a custom for a maiden to give her favor to her knight before battle. It was a symbol of her heart, and her trust. He'd figure things out. Just like Tao would understand what I was showing him, if he didn't already.
"Shouldn't breakfast be here by now? I'm starved." I spoke lightly, distractingly.
"They knocked. I didn't answer, having better things to do at the time."
I made to rise. I could feel him staring at me, but I kept my eyes averted. And so I didn't see him follow me up until his face was a breath away. His nose brushed lightly against the side of mine. I didn't dare breath because his scent would send me tipping over the edge again.
"I accepted the position a long time ago, Feilong," he said softly, lips now at my ear.
Coherent thought fled. "Wha... huh?" It wasn't my best moment.
His breath was hot and his words rumbled along my spine. "Usually the maiden gets the knight, but I find that I prefer the dragon."
"How... how trusting of you." I was proud that I managed to get that much out as he worked his hands down my back, again. What was he?
His pleased laughter rang in my ears as he lifted me so our lips were even. "Should I be afraid of your heat?"
"Come not between the dragon and his wrath," I countered.
"I fear neither sword nor fire..." he murmured, his mouth tracing my collar bone.
"Nor... Shakespeare... apparently..." I gasped as his teeth tugged at a nipple.
--
We never did get breakfast. At least not until it would properly be called tea, if one could even imagine Asami at tea.
We didn't make it to the meeting either. They thought Asami was making a statement and rolled over, granting us more concessions than we would have won had we shown.
Sometimes I wonder if he'd planned that.
But these days I'm trying to be more trusting.
~end~
Characters: Asami x Feilong
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None; Warnings: AU, Takaba doesn't exist on this planet (see LA Story)
Disclaimer: This is a work borne of love for Yamane-sensei's characters, two of whom I've had my way with here.
Note: This is a sequel to LA Story (@ My LJ, YA, Sion). And also, *ahem*, a very very very belated birthday present (as in months) to our beloved mtarashidango.
(Sorry to those who would have liked an AxA story, but I'd planned this one for M for months. Next time I will write of them.) (And btw, the tense mixing is intentional.)
"Does it ever bother you, what we do?"
I'd been watching him get dressed in front of the hotel's full length mirror, each movement precise and economical as he buttoned his vest, then set his cufflinks just so. I didn't think he realized that he looked like a samurai attending to his armor before battle when he did this. But then, everything about him was armor or weapon. Sometimes I wondered if I was merely an additional piece of it when I walked into meetings at his side.
His answer was on the end of a sly glance. "No. Is that what was bothering you all night?"
It was annoying to be read so easily. No one else would have noticed anything amiss. Except perhaps Tao. Which brought me back to the same place.
"Not bothering me," I snapped, just to be contrary and not let his head get any fuller. "It's just been at the back of my mind for a few weeks. You seemed the ideal person to talk to about it."
Asami finished adjusting his tie, giving himself that smug 'Could I be any more perfect?' look in the mirror before turning back to me. He moved to the phone and pressed the number for room service.
"Two Japanese breakfasts, tea not coffee." And hung up. No niceties. I wondered how often servers spit on his food. Probably never if they wanted to live.
"Would you stop ordering for me? I detest Japanese breakfasts."
His eyes sparkled at the show of defiance and he snagged me around the waist, the thick terrycloth of the hotel bathrobe pressing against my still-sensitive-from-morning-sex skin.
"It's good for your girlish figure." I felt one of his hands slip lower to the edge of the robe, fingers dipping underneath and tickling as they slid up my thigh. Nice, but it didn't compensate for his comment.
Without thinking my hands found his pressure points at wrist and elbow, and he swore softly as I easily moved out of his grip. I always treasure those little moments when I catch him unawares and remind him of the assassin part on my resume. Oddly, I get the feeling he treasures them too.
But I wanted him to focus, so I had to push the point and stay out of reach.
He often needs to be forced to conversation. When a topic bores him, which is most of the time, he'll resort to sex to avoid it. His mind is very quick, and he leaps to conclusions with a facility that's sometimes frightening. When others don't reach the same conclusions and as quickly, he seeks to divert them just so he doesn't have to explain himself at length. I think he believes that sex with him is more than adequate compensation for any inconvenience.
I felt his eyes tracking me as I slid out of grasping range, his mind clicking as he calculated the easiest way to accomplish his goal.
I moved to the far side of the room, back against the wall, letting him know that his attacks would be futile. "I ran into someone I knew as a teenager; I'd not seen him in a while."
He sighed a little and gave in, half sitting on the credenza behind him and reaching into his suit for his cigarettes.
"He used to work for us, but after his brother was killed he quit to take over the family business. A tourist boat. Business isn't spectacular with the economy, but he was happy despite that."
After lighting up, Asami had started to put the pack of cigarettes back then seemed to think better of it and left it on the table at his side with lighter and a glance of polite boredom at me, a small form of protest. I hid my laughter. I knew he was listening to every word, every nuance to my speech, if only so he could shut it down as quickly as possible.
"He remembered me of course. Was properly deferential and all that. But when his young son came outside to see what was happening, he didn't let him into my presence. The boy, he was about 13."
"Tao's age."
As I said, Asami was listening acutely.
I nodded my head once. "I'd always congratulated myself on that act of charity, of saving Tao, without thought of what I was bringing him into. It's a way of life for me, and I turned out fine."
I saw a small snort of smoke pass from Asami's lips. I almost told him to stop it, but that would break the détente. Instead I just shot a glare at him and the responding laughter I saw in his eyes gave me a warm glow that I never intended to show him. But he must have seen it because his look suddenly became heated.
I shifted my eyes away and quickly continued, "But I have to wonder, do I have the right to make this choice for him? The only choice I made while growing up was to please my father. I never gave the morality of this business of ours much thought. And now I find that I've become a person whose morals are already shaped to accept whatever I have to do to keep this business afloat. I don't want Tao to be faced with the same dilemma, an adult whose choices have already been made for him."
Asami casually stretched his legs out in front of him, his eyes on mine as I watched him formulate an answer. It was like waiting for the computer to spit out its results, only faster. And his conclusions were generally more to the point, even if I didn't always want to hear what he had to say.
"Are you putting a gun in his hand?"
"No!" I sputtered, "Of course not!"
"Are you telling him stories of your glorious conquests of rival gangs?"
"What glorious conquests?"
"Indeed. What face do you show him, Feilong, when you return from an evening of... business?"
I thought of the nights I'd returned, exhausted over negotiations, disappointed when they'd devolved into violence. Yes, there were some deaths and deals I savored, but there wasn't a time I couldn't wait to scrub them from my skin. And Tao was always there, wasn't he, eyes serious, falling into clumsiness and childishness to distract and amuse me. My eyes dropped so Asami wouldn't see the new awareness in them. I was showing Tao no illusions. He might be a child, but he was well aware of the price of our lifestyle.
Fingers lifted my chin. Dammit, how did he move so quickly and silently? But instead of his lips and tongue pushing into me, his gaze did.
"Is he a fool, Feilong?"
Are you, Feilong? Of course I heard the other question, and he knew it. I shook his hand off angrily. He accepted that and placed it on the wall to the side of my head, and bent closer, speaking more softly, almost gently, though I wasn't fooled.
"You haven't whitewashed anything. So back off and trust him to make his decisions wisely with open eyes. It's what a parent does for a child raised properly. And what you do when you truly respect and love someone." His lips traced along my cheek. "His decisions will make you proud."
His quiet words hit me like a punch to the gut. My father had said nothing until the end, but how much had he said without words as he watched me make my choices? How much had I missed? And Asami, leaving me to stand on my own or fall, but not pushing me into making the choice he'd wanted. Yet if he saw that as a sign of respect and love... Love? From Asami? Could he really mean that?
I looked up to see his satisfied eyes close to mine. What was that soft pride I saw? As if this was all his doing. Arrogant prick. I lifted my chin defiantly. The eyes watching me narrowed in amusement. I wanted to wipe it from him and moved closer, brushing my lips up that impossible chin, my tongue leaving a light trail until it slipped home between his lips. His eyes widened, then darkened and filled with something he'd never say as he slammed me back against the wall.
This. This is what I could do for him that no other could, this ripping of control and armor from him to get at the raw passion underneath. So I never minded when I always followed soon after.
Later as I relaxed upon on the bed, his body heavy on top of mine, I wondered that I never quite remembered much of what happened when we had sex. But some things were imprinted on my memory so that I never forgot: His wet lips sucking my cock deep into his mouth. Movement inside of me, a battering ram breaching a claimed territory. His eyes, at first holding onto a semblance of control and losing even that until they were wild as they watched me, and finally slipping closed as he came, as if he wouldn't let even me see them at that moment. Those things were a part of me now, and I couldn't live without them any more than I could live without air.
His breath in my ear was steady once again though. And I knew he would soon rise and straighten his suit before heading off to battle. For some reason the thought bothered me. I'd wanted to leave more of an impression on him. A mark of sorts. But I knew that even if I did, I'd never see sign of it. I wiggled a bit in protest, because if I made him leave, I'd feel better about it.
He snorted for some reason, then rolled to the side and stood up, straightening his clothes. When he turned around, he was again immaculate.
"You don't even look like you've spent the last twenty minutes fucking your heart out," I said with disgust.
"Is that what I was doing?" he asked lightly, holding a hand out to me.
The implication so shocked me that I couldn't look directly at him, because if it weren't true, if I were misconstruing, the pain would be unbearable.
"Feilong." His voice had deepened and I couldn't help but look up. He moved his hand an inch closer to me, offering it again.
I watched it warily. What was he offering? His eyes held no clue, only patience. I knew I was a fool for not asking, but how could I?
Yet there he was, trusting that I would understand him.
Trusting...
Sometimes it's a wonder my loved ones don't knock my head against the wall in frustration. Then again... I glanced back at the headboard and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.
"How long...?" I started to ask, but couldn't finish.
"I never rush to close a deal if it will gain me more by waiting."
"Of course." A non-answer, but one he assumed I'd understand. And that was my real answer, wasn't it?
How could I not meet my dearest enemy on common ground?
I took his hand, and with a powerful tug and one well-placed foot behind one knee, knocked him to the bed. I rose up, straddling his hips, getting his suit dirty with the sweat and semen on my skin, marking him.
Whimsically I tugged at a strand of my hair, pulling it loose, and tied it about his upper arm.
He stared at me, bemused, watching me with that cool amusement that meant his game face was back on. "What's this? Witchcraft?"
"Perhaps."
I didn't tell him that it was a custom for a maiden to give her favor to her knight before battle. It was a symbol of her heart, and her trust. He'd figure things out. Just like Tao would understand what I was showing him, if he didn't already.
"Shouldn't breakfast be here by now? I'm starved." I spoke lightly, distractingly.
"They knocked. I didn't answer, having better things to do at the time."
I made to rise. I could feel him staring at me, but I kept my eyes averted. And so I didn't see him follow me up until his face was a breath away. His nose brushed lightly against the side of mine. I didn't dare breath because his scent would send me tipping over the edge again.
"I accepted the position a long time ago, Feilong," he said softly, lips now at my ear.
Coherent thought fled. "Wha... huh?" It wasn't my best moment.
His breath was hot and his words rumbled along my spine. "Usually the maiden gets the knight, but I find that I prefer the dragon."
"How... how trusting of you." I was proud that I managed to get that much out as he worked his hands down my back, again. What was he?
His pleased laughter rang in my ears as he lifted me so our lips were even. "Should I be afraid of your heat?"
"Come not between the dragon and his wrath," I countered.
"I fear neither sword nor fire..." he murmured, his mouth tracing my collar bone.
"Nor... Shakespeare... apparently..." I gasped as his teeth tugged at a nipple.
--
We never did get breakfast. At least not until it would properly be called tea, if one could even imagine Asami at tea.
We didn't make it to the meeting either. They thought Asami was making a statement and rolled over, granting us more concessions than we would have won had we shown.
Sometimes I wonder if he'd planned that.
But these days I'm trying to be more trusting.
~end~