Part One - The Lying Game

"Hey, onisaan."

Asami didn't quite register that the little boy was trying to catch his attention. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, the sickly-dry-sweet taste of the Marlboro sticking to his tongue and palate satisfyingly.

The grubby hand grabbing him by the uniform jacket caught Asami off guard. He had to look down to even see a small, defiant face scrunched up at him. The kid was so tiny that the top of his head barely evened out with his hips.

Amused for the moment rather than irritated, Asami cocked an eyebrow. "Something I can do for you?"
"Yes." The brat had the guts to sound irked. "I've been calling you forever. Are you deaf, onisaan?"

Asami hid a smile. "No. I'm not." He lifted his gaze, seeing no other children or worried mothers looking for overly inquisitive offspring. He'd purposely chosen this discreet, lushly shaded spot in the park to have a smoke before heading home. The shrubbery and overgrown trees had created a niche, one he occasionally took advantage of when he wanted to fuck a girl. Or a boy.

"Great. Why are you smoking? It smells terrible."

Speaking of boys. Asami stared down at the stubborn grip the child had on his jacket, leaving dirt stains. He could shove him off and send him running for Mama, but he was indulgent. He liked children. And he was surprised that the boy didn't exhibit the slightest fraction of fear as he examined him with cool, predatory golden eyes.

He decided to indulge his decidedly bad habit of teasing cute boys. There was something about this one that made him want to laugh.
"Because it tastes good." He said provocatively, in a purr that would have signaled danger to anyone with a shred of common sense.

The kid wrinkled his nose. Dirty blond hair, unusually bright shade of color, hung long across his forehead. "Liar. It tastes nasty, doesn't it?"

Well. That had to be the first time in years that someone had been gutsy enough to insult Asami to his face.
"Only one way to find out then." He took a drag of the cigarette and then extinguished the red tip with fingers that were already calloused from pulling triggers.

He bent down on one knee, still taller than the kid, and if he had morals they might have protested but they were long gone at that point. He carded his fingers through the soft golden strands and molded his mouth on the boy's, forcing it open to breathe a cloud of smoke past the tender lips.

The kiss, if it could have been called that, lasted less than a second. The boy jerked back and bent over, coughing, trying to expel the acrid smoke from his throat.

Asami tasted a sweetness that was foreign in his mouth himself, like lingering chocolate and candy. His fingers came away loose from the soft hair and he prepared to stand up and walk away, seeing as torrents of tears were inevitable.

Instead the fingers on his jacket tightened.

Asami paused, intrigued. The boy straightened himself, eyes watery. There was still no fear in them -- only anger.
"That tasted horrible." He lambasted Asami, face red from coughing. Asami's lips finally began curving in a bemused smile, unsure of what else to do in front of a child who was either an idiot or burdened with too much courage.

Part Two - The Lying Game

The dirty hands slapped themselves onto his face. Asami went still, temper almost flickering with life until he had something more important to deal with -- mainly the boy leaning on his tiptoes and kissing him.

Well. Kissing if the term of it was loosely stretched to accommodate the way the child rubbed his lips insistently against Asami's mouth, hair tickling his cheek like a swipe of a butterfly wing. Asami was a somewhat taken aback by the turn of things, and the sudden primal urge that rose to claim the boy.

But he didn't go for that. Even to someone as amoral as he, it filled him with repulsion. But the instinct to place his mark somehow -- that was even stronger.

"Not like that." He chastised mildly, settling his large hands around the thin waist and pulling the boy in closer. He might rationalize it as giving the boy a lesson that would put him years ahead of his classmates when hormones finally made an appearance, but he wasn't one to give himself excuses.

Asami pried the boy's lips open with his tongue, licking and tickling and then sweeping inside with intensity he didn't usually reveal to his lovers. He heard a soft whimper and felt an alien twinge of conscience. But then the small tongue flicked out against his deliberately. White-hot arousal shot through his nerves.

Asami jerked the boy back. He stared at him, eyes dark and menacing.
"Go."

Perhaps, driven by the antipodal instinct that reacted to Asami's expression, the boy finally got a hint of the danger and scampered away. He watched him go and then had to cover his eyes with a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, amazed that he could still have lines that he couldn't cross and not sure whether he was grateful or annoyed.