The man gestured as his two henchme

The man gestured as his two henchmen or goons or whatever ever the hell they were moved to restrain Akihito again. Akihito shot them nasty glares as they backed off at the signal.

An elegantly-shaped eyebrow rose, mocking him. "Oh, is that right? How old are you, then?"

"I'm twenty, asshole."

Both eyebrows went up, this time evincing skepticism.

"Almost twenty," Akihito admitted grudgingly.

"Almost, hm?"

He could see the laughter in the man's eyes.

"Give me back my camera." He held his hand out and glared up into those eyes that made him feel so uncomfortable.

"Manners." The man made a tsking sound. "You're in my territory, little alley cat. Why don't you tell me your name first if you want this back." He lifted the camera just out of reach, watching Akihito with an infuriating smirk.

His eyes narrowed, but he knew he didn't have much choice. "Tanaka. Tanaka Aki—Akira."

The man's lips twitched, as if he knew Akihito had given him a false name, but he nodded, handing the camera over the guy with glasses. Before Takaba knew it, he was hauled forward against the man's chest. Shocked, he went rigid, his nose pressing against the tailored suit. He could smell expensive aftershave, smoke, the scent of the man's skin itself. But it was the hands that slipped into the back pocket of his jeans that made his mind go blank; the slow intimate glide of fingers over the curve of his ass that choked the air out of him.

"Wh—Wha…" he finally stuttered as the hands moved to the front of his pants, dipping into the deeper pockets, too close for comfort, and sending him into a mounting panic before the man exhaled against his ear.

"Ah. Here it is."

He was released as his wallet was flipped open and perused. Shit, his school id, all his personal information was in there. He felt like throwing up.

"It's a pleasure, Takaba Akihito."

Akihito flushed at the intimate way his name rolled off the man's tongue.

"Give it back."

His defiance only seemed to amuse the man.

"In time, perhaps."

Akihito had no choice but to wait while the man took his time going through the contents of his wallet. The man chuckled.

"Your birthday is on Children's Day? How appropriate."

"Asshole." Akihito's fists clenched. He didn't care who this guy was. If he didn't watch it Akihito really was going to let him have it.

"Almost twenty is stretching it a bit, don't you think, Akihito? That's a good seven months away."

"What's it to you, anyway?" Akihito snarled. "Just give me my camera and my wallet back and let me go. I won't come back here again."

"Oh, I know you won't." Suddenly, he was back against the wall again, Asami's hand tucking the wallet back in his pocket, hot breath against his ear. "Because the next time I see you, I just might eat you up."

His breath hitched in his chest as their eyes met. He could feel the solid heat of the man's body fully against him, and his eyes widened as he felt a hard length pressing into his stomach. The man's lips lifted slightly at the corners. Then he stepped back.

He took the camera again, ignoring Akihito's cry of angry protest as he pulled out the roll of film and tucked it inside his breast pocket. "I'll keep this. But because I'm feeling generous I'll let you have the camera back."

He passed it over to his man and let him tuck it away in the bag, while the other one held Akihito back from his aborted attempt to lunge forward in an unthinking display of dismay. Akihito calmed a little, though, when their boss took the bag and settled the strap across Akihito's shoulder, smirking at Akihito's surprise and dismissing the other two men with a jerk of his head.

The gravel crunched as they walked away, leaving Akihito clutching at the bag's strap and staring up into golden eyes with a mixture of anger, relief, and curiosity. "Who are you, anyway?"

The man ignored the question, though he stepped forward, slowly backing Akihito to the wall. "Don't you know that nosy questions could get you into even more trouble, Akihito?" He smirked. "And in the future you might want to pick a…healthier place to take pictures."

Before Akihito could respond, he was trapped between the wall and the man's hard body. A choked sound of shock caught in his throat as his mouth was taken in a searing kiss. He was too stunned to even struggle for a long moment, and by the time his wild thoughts actually began to coalesce into functional thought, the man had already pulled away, leaving Akihito's lips wet and red and throbbing, and to his intense mortification, other parts as well. A deep flush spread over his face and crept down his neck as he stared at the smirking visage still only inches away.

"You…" he choked out.

"Me." The man smirked again, producing a crisp black business card that Akihito could tell was printed on expensive stock. The long manicured fingers flourished it then tucked it into Akihito's jeans. "You didn't think I'd let you get away scot-free, did you?"

He stepped away, taking out another cigarette and lighting it himself this time. His cool amusement made Akihito seethe, but he was too discomfited by what had just happened to retort. Those eyes, wicked and insolent traveled slowly over him one more time before the man turned and began to walk away.

"Come see me in seven months and I'll buy you a drink, Takaba Akihito."

Two days later, Akihito found a large orange envelope at his door. Inside were all the pictures, negatives included, he'd taken at the wharf, all except for the one of the two men and their shadows. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Shit, he really was going to have to move. A folded note written on rich, thick paper was clipped to the front of the pile.

You have a good eye, Akihito. Be careful what you capture in your viewfinder. It would be a shame not to see you reach twenty. I meant it about that drink.

He crumpled the sheet in his hand and cursed. As if he would ever deliberately set eyes on that man again.

Google and Yama-san had both provided answers of sorts, though Yama-san's information amounted mainly to yelling at Akihito to stay well away from both the man and his businesses.

Speculatively, Akihito flipped the Club Sion business card between his fingers. That arrogant man who had dared to mess with Akihito like that, as if he owned the world. Nobody touched his cameras and got away with it. Akihito made a great effort to ignore the fact that the man had messed with his body and mind far more effectively. Even if his dreams had been weird lately, Akihito was sure they would pass. It wasn't as if they meant anything.

A hot blush spread across his cheekbones, and Akihito shook his head hard. Enough of this. The business card went up on the wall next to his computer, pinned by a sharp tack. Asami Ryuichi, huh? He had messed with the wrong guy. One day, Akihito would really capture something in his viewfinder that would put that arrogant bastard right in his place.