Blbs 4

Sato Akihiro was a gigantic man who relied a lot on his size and demeanor to intimidate anyone underneath him. No one liked being called into his office, least of all Aizawa, who was mystified when his boss screamed for him the following morning.

"Awright, listen," Sato snarled, chewing on the disgusting cigar he held between his lips. Aizawa knew the man thought smoking them made him look more imposing, and always had one ready when debasing an employee.

<i>Shit.</i>

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "It's about the Cheshire story," he interrupted wearily.

"Damn straight it is! I gave you a hefty expense account to sneak into her after party, and you left with <i>nothing!</i> And now, lookit this shit!" He shoved a tablet in the smaller man's face.

Aizawa grabbed it before it fell and, frowning, glanced at the headline of the article currently pissing his boss off.

<b>Present Mic and Cheshire Caught Cuddling on her Terrace</b>

His blood ran cold.

The article had a blurry photo included. They were sitting on the open terrace next to each other with what looked like mugs on the small table in front of them. It was blurry due to the distance, but you could make out Mic's arm around her. The reporter went on to surmise that it was Mic who had left that love bite, and they were hiding the fact that they were a couple.

"That's not the only one! Ya missed a huge scoop, Aizawa! I thought you were on this!" He blinked, stunned, as several print magazines were thrown in his lap, all with different angled shots. "It's everywhere on the 'net and in the rags today."

<i>What the everloving fuck?!</i>

Had the people who took the photos simply ignored him? <i>He</i> was the man who was slipping in and out of her complex on a regular basis, but Mic ended up in the news. Aizawa knew he had been extra careful not to be seen but this was ridiculous.

As for the the photos, she was still in her robe, the one she had slipped on after they had sex. Mic had entered her home while he was leaving and she had just put it on, but why hadn't she changed? He knew she was nude underneath it, and -

Aizawa's head snapped up as he realized his boss was addressing him directly.

"You'd better get something on her soon," Sato insisted, slamming his meaty hand down hard. Pencils, pens, paperclips and tacks spilled out of a cup that fell over, littering the already messy desk. "Do whatever it takes, Aizawa, or your reputation is finished!"

Aizawa nodded mutely and slunk out. He lifted his phone off his desk and stared at it for a minute, eyeing the battered case like it was a poisonous snake.

<i>Better get this over with, then.</i>

<b>Bastard</b>: <i>you home?</i>

<b>Cheshire</b>: <i>yeah, come on over baby</i>

He grimaced, turned his phone off and shoved it into his pocket. "I'm heading out," he told Kayama. "Won't be back today. I have a - a hot lead on something."

Kayama nodded at him sympathetically.

It took a quarter of an hour in all the traffic to get to the penthouse, and he was fuming by the time he arrived. It was as if those damning photos of her with Mic were taped in front of his eyes like blinders, making them the only thing he could see. He nearly hit a bicyclist and several cars on the way over.

Elly was waiting for him at the door when he barged inside, uncaring for once about the damned paparazzi.

"Hey, babe."

He grunted, and she flicked one of her ears in his direction.

"Cranky, huh? Come sit on the bed and relax."

Aizawa lay there for several minutes, listening to her bustle about. He was nowhere near relaxed, though Elly sounded disgustingly chipper. He bristled as he wondered what the cause for that could be. She finally laid beside him with a contented sigh, cuddling close and pulling out her phone. Her tailtips idly curled up and down as she got comfortable.

"If you don't wanna talk or anything we can just lay here. S'okay."

He cleared his throat. "And if I do?"

"That's cool." She shrugged. "What's up?"

"How do you know him?"

Elly crinkled her nose in confusion. "Errr... who?"

"Present Mic."

"Oh. We met first when I was starting out. He backed me, you know, until I made it big."

"Yeah." Aizawa frowned at the warmth in her voice. "Why was he here the other day?"

"He was coming over to goof around, maybe go somewhere - we never really know. Wait." She froze, her eyes widening. "You don't think the hype those assholes all published is right, do you?" She looked startled at his reaction. "We've been friends for like, ages."

"Just friends?" He raised an eyebrow. "He got into your apartment without you opening the door for him."

"Yeah," she said, scratching her head absently as she thumbed through her phone again. "Just friends. I gave him a key ages ago. I have one for his room, several doors down, as well."

Aizawa grunted and rolled over.

"Wait a minute, are you <i>jealous</i>? Oh my god."

His shoulders heaved, and he looked back. "I most certainly am fucking not," he snapped.

"You are!" Elly put the phone down and leaned over so she could kiss him on the cheek. Before her lips touched, though, he grasped her arm and pulled her over to lay facing him. "Ow, damn it!"

"Why would I be jealous? I was just ...<i>concerned</i> that your test results may not be, ah, accurate now."

She gave him a very flat look, crossing her arms. "You're kidding."

"That was Present fucking Mic," he reiterated firmly.

"Yes," Elly snapped back just as strongly. "That was Present fucking Mic, but I'm not <i>fucking</i> Present Mic."

"Half of my coworkers would give up a years' salary to sleep with him - men and women combined."

"I'm not one of your coworkers. And I told you, I don't pick up anybody and everybody."

"You hit on <i>me</i>." He still wouldn't look her in the eyes.

Elly's voice rose in pitch as she grew more indignant. "Yeah, I did! And I hadn't done it in months, hadn't seen anyone that caught my eye in a long time, until <i>you</i>!"

He lifted his head, his expression incredulous. "Me?"

"God, you're so <i>dense</i>. I obviously thought you were sexy if I hit on you."

His gray eyes hardened in anger. "I'm realistic. I know I'm unkempt and tired most of the time. That night I'd gotten fixed up."

"You're sexy <i>now</i>, too, with your messy hair and clothes all rumpled. Are you so insecure you need to be told that?"

<i>There's no way you would choose me over someone like him! You can't possibly like me that much, damn it!</i>

He bit back his reply and kissed her instead, roughly mashing his lips to hers. She responded in kind, and soon they were thrashing against one another as they furiously made out.

"That's enough foreplay." Aizawa unzipped his pants and pulled his hardened member out through one side of his briefs.

"Here. I know how afraid you are of catching some nasty ass, pop star sex disease," she huffed, tossing a condom at him. Aizawa glared at her and tore the packet open, making her even more furious. "You're <i>serious</i>? You little piece of shit! You -"

"Shut up," he snarled, and kissed her again, holding her wrists up above as he sought to bury himself inside her. She struggled, though honestly she could have fought harder. It was her choice to let him ravish her while she made certain to bite and suck every part of him she could reach. It wasn't much since he was still wearing his clothes, but she tried. This type of sex was new to her, and though her heart felt strange and her anger was undeniable she flung herself into the act with extra enthusiasm. Aizawa's neck and throat were covered in bruises long before they both came, scratching and swearing and tearing at one another.

He left immediately, barely taking the time to pull the condom off before zipping up, stuffing his shoes on and slamming out the door. His exit was accompanied by the sounds of several large objects smashing in the suite, which he pointedly ignored.

Aizawa was grateful.

Harder, rougher sex was so much easier on his heart than the other kind. And if he'd goaded her into it tonight to spare him the feelings bubbling up from within his darkened soul, so what? He felt better.

He felt <i>better</i>.

Aizawa kept repeating that to himself as he walked to the parking garage. He got into his car, which looked considerably more beat up and tiny compared to the shiny luxury sedans and sports cars all around, and jammed the key in the ignition.

"<i>I feel better</i>," he gritted out harshly between clenched teeth.

So much better, in fact, that his bitter scowl frightened the parking attendant when she checked his ticket.