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Early light streams through the only window in Kiryu’s bedroom. He comes to groggy, a strip of sunshine flat over his face and Majima sprawled over his chest and legs. The thin blanket is tangled around their feet, and Kiryu huffs out a yawn, muscles twitching.
Living away from Kamurocho and the Tojo Clan meant more mornings like this: slow, almost eerie in their silence. Hard to get used to. Gave him enough time to second guess if he wanted to get used to them.
Majima seems asleep until he isn’t. Kiryu feels his muscles coiling and then relaxing, and weight settling more firmly atop his bare torso. “Mornin’, Kazzy.” His voice is thick with sleep, greeting Kiryu with the slow blink of a cat.
“Good morning, Majima.” Majima’s eyepatch was off, the other lid closed and shadowing his cheek. Even this early in the morning his eye is sharp, with the same unnerving gravity to it. “Goro.” Kiryu amends, redirecting his gaze to the ceiling. While it had been easy enough to drop the honorifics, switching to a first name basis was a little… difficult for him sometimes. Aside from formality being ingrained into most of his habits, the implications of intimacy made Kiryu feel bare, an unwanted soft gap in the threading of his chainmail.
Goro, if he notices, seems to mind none and care less. “There we go. Ya catch on fast, don’tcha,” he croons, dragging himself up Kiryu’s chest to catch his bottom lip between his teeth. Kiryu's response is tender, fingers brushing along swirls of cloud, the face of the Hannya, resting at Majima’s hips and grabbing as they kiss, trying to get him to stop squirming like a caught fish against him.
Kiryu feels his pulse building, his back starting to bead sweat against the sheets below. This excitement—the way Majima knew how to get his blood boiling over nothing—was more of the pace he was used to, whether he admitted to wanting it or not. Morning wood was only exacerbating the problem, and maybe the solid presence of another body in his bed wasn’t helping either. The desire to keep the moment quiet dies in his throat before it gets the chance to breathe, and Kiryu tilts his head to catch Majima’s jaw with his mouth. His tongue rolls over day-old stubble and stale cologne rubbed to near-obscurity. Sucks an angry mark into the skin of Majima’s neck and the man in question laughs, a sound that might be cuter without the manic edge to it.
Perhaps Kiryu was still asleep for thinking that it sounded cute to begin with. “I’ve got errands to run today.” He starts, making no move that would suggest that he was even thinking about getting up. His hips press somewhere between Majima’s groin and his inner thigh, small and largely hindered by the pressure on him. “The cabinets are running a little low and Haruka asked me to pick up snacks for her last time we were out together…”
“Hmm?” Majima hums, and then sighs like he’s disappointed. A huffy little thing he makes when he’s trying to rile Kiryu up. Or guilt him into the decision he wanted to make in the first place. “The supermarket’ll still be there after we take care of this, yea? ‘N anyway, ain’t I a meal, Kiryu-chan?”
Kiryu has no idea what he’s talking about, but he’ll be damned if he said he hadn’t taken a bite out of Majima before. The quizzical furrow of his eyebrows is enough for Majima to take pity on him though, slipping his cock out of his sweatpants and giving it a few firm strokes. Even as close as Majima’s grip was to being on the wrong side of too rough, Kiryu presses his hips into it anyway, simply thinking that it’d be a little better if it were more his speed. Reasoning skills hindered by the hand on his dick, Kiryu mulls over the request, or pretends to at least, since his body’s already come to its own conclusion.
“Fine. But don’t take too long,” His response is gruff, and the smile that curls across Majima’s face lets Kiryu know that he’s in for it.
Majima scoots down Kiryu’s torso, biting at raised, silvered flesh from old stab wounds (mostly Majima-inflicted) and fingering the pucker of gunshot scars on his way down. The trail of pubic hair from his navel down is trimmed neat, and his cock curves hot and heavy in Majima’s hand. He takes Kiryu into his mouth with little preamble, and a lot less chatting than he usually liked to contribute, inappropriately, with dick in his mouth. Majima tongue curls sweet around the head and then presses flat against Kiryu’s shaft and sucks, Kazuma sighing deep in his chest and shooting a hand out to thread into Goro’s hair.
“How good is this,” He coos, pulling back, fingers curled around the base of Kiryu’s shaft. The rest is pressed against the outside of his cheek. Perhaps Kiryu spoke too soon. “Mornin’ head from yer favorite guy. Who can brag about that?” A lot of people. Maybe. Kiryu didn’t want to think about it, especially since he was currently being deprived of morning head from his ‘favorite guy.’
“And me? I’m gettin’ a full course meal down here! Breakfast in bed.” He continues, pressing a wet kiss against Kiryu’s length, and then murmurs 'hips' so that he can snatch Kiryu’s sweats halfway down his thighs. The fingers from his free hand tease behind Kiryu’s balls. Down the length of his perineum and against the soft skin of his hole.
Kiryu jolts like he's been electrocuted, and Majima takes his hand away so he can press down Kiryu’s hips instead. The noise that comes out of his throat at the loss of contact isn’t a whine, but that’s just what he tells himself.
“C’mon, quickshot. Remember yer etiquette.” He teases, voice dagger sharp and a little mean.
“I’m not a quickshot.” Kiryu snaps back, followed by a softer something that could be classified as an apology. For him.
"Hmm," Majima hums, a curious sound against his hot skin. “Ya almost never let me tease down here. Ya hungry for it, Kiryu-chan?”
Kazuma doesn't give a verbal answer, but the way he twitches under the press of Majima's fingers is louder than anything he might have said. Majima gives him that look. The one he gets when he’s up to no good. His mouth curls and his eye curves in a decidedly evil way, and he giggles like he does when he’s got his knife out and it’s sparkly shiny under Kamurocho’s constant neon. Majima’s got an idea and Kiryu’s not ready for the pitch.
“Alright, Kiryu-chan, picture this. We could fill ya up real good, ‘n then ya could go out and do yer errands. Just think about walkin’ around Kamurocho… no one knowin’ what ya got up yer ass, how good yer feelin’ ‘cause of me. How’s that sound?” Majima’s finger, now wet with spit, traces the rim of Kiryu’s hole. The ring of muscle twitches under his touch. “Big ol’ Dragon of Dojima plugged up like a bitch… bet ya’d let anybody bend ya over and fuck that ready hole o’ yers, huh?”
“...I wouldn’t.” Kiryu manages, trying to shift his leg in a way that would stop Majima from doing what he was doing. Pants are in the way... He feels like the blood vessels in his face are bursting, cheeks blooming ruddy at Majima’s frank description.
“Ya wouldn’t what?”
“Not anybody...”
It takes him a minute, but Majima is able to piece together Kiryu’s hesitant responses. When he does, his shit-eating grin is so loud that Kiryu's ears ring. It really sucks being stupid, horny, and interested in seeing how this would play out, huh.
“Aww, Kiryu-chan,” he coos. “Tell ya what. I’ll lay out the Majima special for ya, just fer today. Catch me on the streets ‘n I got a treat for ya.”
Catching Majima on the streets has never gone particularly well before.
Majima rolls off the bed and scrambles around on the top shelf of Kiryu’s closet. They both hear his hand slamming a little too hard on the board holding everything up, and the answering shift and rattle of the boxes and extra linens up there. Majima pretends like he didn’t hear anything. When he finds what he’s looking for, a nondescript storage box from a 100 yen store or somewhere, it ends up on the bed next to Kiryu, who had been spending more than a little effort trying to fumble his way out of the rest of his sweatpants.
The contents spill out upon landing. An assortment of condoms and lube, and a single anal plug. It’s a pretty black little thing, with a modest bulb and a skinny neck that flares out into a flat, t-shape base. The smooth silicone looks matte and soft in the fuzzy light, and the thought of walking around town with it inside makes Kiryu clench. They’ve used it before in the short-term, but Kiryu remembers something about Majima saying he could wear it for longer if he wanted. Like he was planning this. Hm.
“Ya really wanna do this?” There’s an eager shine in Majima’s eye, but Kiryu knows he could say no if he wanted to, when he wanted to.
He nods, but follows it up with verbal agreement, knowing it was better practice to be forthright about his desire to engage in any play. Majima had been more serious about that than Kiryu had expected him to be, but the firm hand of receiving consent had been especially comforting in his awkward and inexperienced beginnings.
“Get yer ass all cleaned out and let’s get it poppin’, then!” Nevermind. Kiryu hates him.
Despite the absolute indignation, Kiryu does as he’s told, popping out of the bathroom damp and warm about 15 minutes later. Majima’s taken to looking scruffy and breathtaking, hair catching the light from where it was standing up on his head. The freshly awoken look fits him too well perhaps, and reaches somewhere in Kiryu’s chest to squeeze hard. He looks away, clears his throat.
“All squeaky?” and the sleepy, teeth-baring grin he shoots from across the room is painfully endearing. Hurts Kiryu so bad all he manages is a grunt of acknowledgement before he’s settling back into the sheets.
Majima’s hands are immediately on his body. Up his sides, cupping his pecs. They push the generous muscle there together so he can nuzzle and kiss between the manufactured valley of cleavage before letting go and repeating. Majima’s mouth finds one of Kiryu's nipples and bites before anything else, laving over it with his tongue right after. It’s another tease in the form of an apology and Kiryu huffs, pressing his head into the pillow.
His touch finds the contour of Kiryu’s abs, eventually, and then finally down to his dick. It’s not as interested as it had been before his shower, but is quickly getting there. Majima gives it a fleeting kiss, teasing his lips over the fat head before suckling it into his mouth. He takes him in only deep enough to appease himself and relax Kiryu’s muscles for the main event, which has Kiryu making little frustrated noises in his throat, brushing his fingers across Majima’s nape.
The first time Kiryu had seen Majima’s hands without the gloves he expected them to be worse for wear, but aside from the silvered scars of knife nicks and callouses from wielding his blade and the baseball bat there wasn’t anything to hide. Majima’s fingers are long and kind of knobby at the knuckle. Chilly with the lube, but his fingernails are clean-cut, rounded, and close to the bed; and where Kiryu tended to struggle, Majima always seemed to know exactly where to dig to get to Kiryu’s prostate, even on the first try. He’s quick to get it this time too, pressing Kiryu’s buttons just right, and it’s too early in the morning for Kiryu to be embarrassed about the way his cock weeps precum.
“Dunno if I said this before, but yer hair’s real cute not slicked back.”
Kiryu can’t really figure out why Majima is trying to talk to him when he can see that he’s preoccupied with biting down on his knuckles, but it’s rather inconvenient. Majima isn't necessarily clinical when he fingers, but he definitely is thorough and very good at it, sucking Kiryu down in distraction while working him so well Kiryu is almost convinced Majima’s on his way to trying to slide his fist in. Wouldn't be the first time he’s tried to stick his hand into places it shouldn’t be.
"Could say the same for you. It's cute… in your face like that." Kiryu's labored breathing and preoccupation hinders his response time, but he does manage to get that out.
“Aww, yer the well that never runs outta sappy shit, ain’t ya? Flattery ain’t gettin’ ya nowhere though.” Majima answers with a slick pop of his mouth, sounding out of breath. Kiryu’s eyes catch on the sloppy line of saliva linking his dick to Majima's red, red lips. Throbs in Majima’s hand and watches his eye crinkle in amusement. God.
“It’s not?”
But instead of letting Kiryu puppy-dog eyes his way into being a distraction, Majima takes this time to slick up the plug and edge it into him. It doesn’t come without warning, it really doesn’t. Both of Majima’s hands are preoccupied so Kiryu isn’t too stupid to guess what comes next when there aren’t palms on him anymore. But being surprised isn’t simply about having a warning or not.
Kiryu gasps at the first hint of intrusion, tightening up and trying to cover the sound with a poorly placed cough. Cold… lube was cold. Majima wipes his slick hand on the sheets before rubbing up and down Kiryu’s flank. ‘Relax’ unvoiced. After that, it’s easier. It slides to the base with little remaining resistance, but of course Majima wants to play with it a little.
He pulls the plug back until the bulb threatens to slide out of Kiryu’s ass before pressing it back in. Angles the blunt head of the toy around in his body as he thrusts it in and out, in time with the hand that starts to stroke his cock again.
“Y’can take it out anytime it stops feelin’ good, yea?” He mentions after a while of watching Kiryu’s expression contort in pleasure. Or something. Kiryu had his eyes closed most of the time, so he can only assume that it was along those lines, considering the hungry look he gets when they meet eyes again.
Easy for him to say. Majima wrings Kiryu tight until he’s ready to snap, pulling away at the last moment. The damp look Kiryu gives him has made grown men shit themselves before. Majima just grins.
“Awright. Up and at ‘em, Kiryu-chan. Ya got a lotta errands to run.” Majima presses down on the base of the plug one last time before slapping Kiryu on the thigh and rolling out of bed.
“Nii-san—” Kiryu chokes as he tries to sit up, forgetting about the toy inside of him until it presses something it wasn't pressing before.
He could just jerk himself off. There was nothing stopping him, Majima hadn’t told him that that was off limits, and yet. Somehow, an orgasm felt like the end of the road. Come now, slide the plug out and call it a day before they’ve done anything. So as Kiryu shifts himself as gingerly as he can, waning erection burning a hot line into his thigh, he decides to not touch himself. Plus, looking like a dejected animal was really in these days. Not that anyone was paying him any mind. If all morning head was going to be this lousy, Kiryu was going to make Majima sleep in a different bed. Or on the floor.
“What? I got shit t’do, too. See ya in town.” It’s easy enough for Majima to get dressed, considering he hardly wears anything to begin with, wriggling into his leather pants and shrugging his jacket back on. It's a lot less sexy like this, namely because now he has clothes on, but Kiryu gets over himself enough to look dreamy about it either way. He grunts in way of 'be safe, see you later' and realizes that yeah, maybe he should get out of bed as well. Errands won't run themselves. Damn shame.
The moment Kiryu steps outside, he decides to hit the grocery store first and strike everything else off the list. He feels... Full. Every article of clothing he'd put on had just amplified the sensation, made him hyper aware of what was going on, but being outside added another layer to it that he wasn’t sure he liked.
People are looking at him, too.
Well, people always look at him, but it's easier now to attribute their stares to the plug, like they can take a glimpse at him and know that he’s doing something dirty. It shouldn’t bother him, really. There were kinkier, seedier folks on this side of town, with far less discretion than Kiryu, and like he said earlier, people look at him all the time. No one knows. And if he’s walking a little stiffer than usual? He’s always walked this way.
The supermarket is close enough to walk to from his apartment. He takes the trip as a mild stroll opposed to his usual brisk walk or light jog, adjusting to the rocking of the toy inside of him. Even with his tightest briefs on there was wiggle room for the silicone, and he considers turning back around and taking it out more times than he can count before his feet find him in front of tinny karaoke renditions of pop songs and automatic sliding doors.
He retrieves the crinkled grocery list in his pocket, a sad little thing scrawled on the back of an M Store receipt. Squints at it like he can’t read, like it’ll have less items on it if he looks hard enough. Not successful, all things considered. Since when did box curry have so many ingredients? What happened to the box? He shifts his stance and it shifts the plug inside of him, shooting a line of pleasure right up his back.
Shit. The sooner he could get back, the better.
Kiryu sucks in a heavy inhale, tight through his teeth, and trudges through the produce section. It might be over for the next carrot that looks at him funny.
Somehow, he still ends up doing his thing in Kamurocho. It was just a little errand—returning a lost item he forgot to give to its owner yesterday. No fights, no distractions. Just errand, and then home. That’s what he tells himself. He’d dropped his larger groceries off at Serena to pick up later, stuck with a dinky little convenience store bag from the Poppo, a consolation prize for purchasing a handful of Staminans.
No distractions, just home, he reminds himself after handing over the lost item, receiving a dusty piece of gear for his trouble—but Kamurocho was made of bright lights and distractions, and Majima sings out a ‘Kiryu-chaaan~’ that rings through the strip of open space behind Theater Square before Kiryu can think to avoid him.
He grits his teeth and turns the bare minimum, neon light sliding off the sharp line of his nose when he makes eye contact. "Majima-san," is his answer, curt, and it's largely for show. Majima-san on the streets, Goro in the sheets. Or something.
Majima grins, in line with the script, and saunters closer. The little clip of his shoes on the pavement, the grit of loose pebbles under his feet bounce off of store walls and into Kiryu's ears and the plastic of his tiny bag crinkles under his tightened grip.
"Aww, ya don’t look too happy t'see me. Not excited fer the surprise I got ya?"
Kiryu was practically hardwired to respond to any of Majima's taunts with 'no, I'm too busy,' so that’s exactly what comes out of his mouth, leaking out of the sharp downturn of his lips.
"C'mon, don't be that way. I been looking fer ya all day. 'M real thirsty, and a fight with Kiryu-chan's like a tall glass of water. Let's take the tussle somewhere a little more private though, huh?"
The once, twice-over Majima gives him is sufficiently parched, even subtracting the over exaggeration, and Kiryu thinks to lecture him on proper hydration. Liquor only makes you more dehydrated, nii-san. Like he was one to talk.
Instead of saying anything, Kiryu grunts and gives him an expression that must seem sufficiently compliant because Majima’s turning away without another word, leading them both to a new location. There’s a skip in his step as they travel, putting him paces ahead of Kiryu's stiff gait.
"Why are ya all the way back there? Yer walkin like y'got a stick up yer—" and is all teeth as soon as he gets his own joke, damn near cackling. Kiryu would clock him if he could catch up.
Somewhere ‘a little more private’ ends up being the underutilized back stall of the Children’s Park bathroom. Thankfully, there were no children or adults present to see both of them squeeze their way in there, and Kiryu hoped that there would be none to see or hear anything anytime in the foreseeable, unforeseeable, and the unhearable future. All for extra insurance.
Neglected is the nicest word to use to describe the stall. Only receiving natural light and air from a little hole cut out of the brick, the air inside is dim and stagnant. The toilet is stained grey and ringed with old water and whatever else, grout around the hole in the floor stained black. No toilet paper. Majima crowds into Kiryu's personal space, making the younger man seem almost comically bundled into himself, and they both have to take care to not step in the toilet embedded in the floor.
“Come here often?” Majima smirks, nose brushing Kiryu’s. He smells of tobacco and something Goromi wears, and Kiryu feels dizzy when Majima presses himself against the hard line of Kiryu’s body, mounting one of his thighs. The already-aroused outline of him sears the muscle of Kiryu’s leg and Kiryu brings a hand down to tease the small of Majima’s back beneath his jacket, watching him roll his hips, ticklish, away from Kiryu's touch.
There was something he meant to say, perhaps, but Majima ducks in to take his tongue between his teeth as soon as Kiryu opens his mouth to reply. Where Majima is partial to open-mouthed makeouts, Kiryu’s grown to enjoy them. The biting and teasing, not to mention the delicious little sounds Majima makes when Kiryu starts to beat him at his own game; nibbling on a bottom lip, sucking his tongue.
Majima grows tired of sounding desperate and grasps at Kiryu’s side, putting his weight into wrestling Kiryu until his back is to Majima’s chest, against the wall of the cramped stall.
"Remember when I did that cop shit ‘n was feelin ya up in front of Millennium Tower?"
Yes, unfortunately. Kiryu’s forehead creases in the way it does when Majima says things he doesn’t like to remember; brows knit thick in the beginning of a fight. Majima knows him; or at the very least, Kiryu’s eyebrows aren’t the only things knitting—sweater-thick tension tight around the rest of his body, because he laughs.
"Aw don't be grumpy, that was genius! Say 'thank ya, Goro'." No thank you, Goro. He had looked nice in the hat, Kiryu muses (now that he’s being forced to recall) but it wasn’t a particularly sexy take on law enforcement, assuming there was any way to make the idea of law enforcement sexy. Outside of simply being Majima.
There are palms on the front, the inside of his thigh, hips against his ass. The wall is grimy from old age and negligence, and Kiryu loathes that his hands are flat against it. Majima nudges the lewd outline of his cock against the cleft of Kiryu’s ass through shiny leather and grey slacks.
"Ya weren't packin nothin ‘cept this the first time, but ooh I wanted t'bust ya for it." Majima continues, unprompted and unwanted, and grasps firm at Kiryu’s crotch, which had been somewhat interested and aching for the better part of an hour.
"Sure you didn’t just want to bust?"
"Full of yerself, huh? Shut the fuck up, Kiryu-chan."
Not a man known to quip often, Kiryu bites back the 'hope to be full of you' at the tip of his tongue. Even if he were a quippier man, he wouldn't be able to live that one down.
"It's the plug, actually." Ok, so maybe he lied about being quippy.
"You—" Making a noise Kiryu imagined a dying computer might make, loud and movie-dramatic, Majima does magic with Kiryu’s belt, dropping his slacks and briefs to the floor in record time. They miss the squat toilet by the sweetest two inches Kiryu's ever felt.
Even though Majima had been the one to put the plug in Kiryu, it’s even more erotic than anticipated to see it like this, out in public, base pressed up snug against his taint. It moves a little under Majima's scrutiny, muscle fluttering.
“‘S real slutty of ya, Kiryu-chan… walking around like ya were just waitin’ for someone t’pull yer pants down and fuck ya...” Majima’s voice sounds thick and faraway like there’s too much saliva in his mouth. “Just like this.” He swallows hard at the same time he grasps at the base of Kiryu’s plug, swearing at the way his hole tries hard to not let go. Kiryu had spent so much time this morning trying to hold onto it that it almost felt wrong letting someone slide it out.
Majima nudges his leather-clad knee against the inside of Kiryu’s leg, Kiryu’s pants going taut around his ankles as he’s forced to readjust his stance. The zipper of Majima’s pants catches loud against the old tile and metal door of the stall. He urges Kiryu to relax with a steady hand and a low voice that betrays his excitement in the way it quivers, and his gloved fingers are quick to replace the plug as soon as it’s teased out, slipping two into the slight gape left from the toy with an ease that leaves him wheezing out a breath. “God, Kiryu. Look at this fuckin’ hole of yers...”
Kiryu’s grateful for the swift insertion of Majima’s fingers, but it wasn't fast enough to keep him from gasping at the emptiness. He feels his ass winking around open air before having something to hold onto again, and in the half-delusional frustration arousal has worked him into this morning, all previous reservations about getting fucked in a public bathroom stall fly out of the window. He’s been incarcerated for less—not that being caught was on the menu for today.
"God, if I had more time I'd eat yer tight little pussy clean out." He groans, stretching his fingers in it, rubbing around. "But there's a time ‘n place!" Kiryu groans like he's imagining it. Probably is. Majima’s tongue in his ass, using his fingers to keep him open so he can lick in deep.
The supple leather of Majima's gloves brush Kiryu’s prostate and he chokes out a "fuck," hanging his head low. He presses his hips back into it and that’s enough of a win for Majima to get a hold of himself, not get swept away by the eroticism of his boyfriend’s pink little hole in the nasty stall of a public restroom.
He’s enraptured with the shine of lube over his leather gloves, the wet noises Kiryu’s hole makes. He fucks him with his hand until Kiryu is begging, in his own way, head bowed and voice nothing more than a rumble when he caves and asks for Majima to fuck him properly.
There was no need to tell him twice. Majima slides into him almost immediately, using the lube on his glove to hastily oil himself up. If Kiryu had been a weaker man he would’ve been pressed into the stall wall, but since he isn’t he’s scarcely moved, hardly a vibration from taking Majima's rough thrusts. But even if the line of his spine holds its composure, the rest of his body can’t say the same. His dick is rock solid and bobbing between his legs, drooling precum onto the ground and hopefully not onto any part of his pants. Majima is holding his palms against Kiryu's hips with the plug in one hand, the base of the toy likely imprinting his exposed skin from where his shirt was hiked up around his waist.
He’s got his eye focused on the slide of his cock in Kiryu’s ass, the way the dragon’s leg, its talons, peek out from under the deep red of his dress shirt and onto that plump curve, claws curling protectively over the meat of his ass. His gaze is caught like he’s possessed, and it's easy for him to work himself in Kiryu’s hole and detach it from the rest of his body.
“God, fuck. You’re so hot and wet, ain’t ya. So good and quiet like yer my personal fucktoy or somethin’, a hole for me whenever I need it. Wanna be that for me? Want to be good for me, Kiryu?” He babbles, breathing heavy against the line of Kiryu’s neck.
Kiryu wants to be good.
Even when Majima’s words scorch the tips of his ears and sit like hot coals in his belly he wants to be good, right now if not always.
Sweat's caressing his temples, rolling down the tight valley between his shoulder blades. It makes the gel in his hair floppy and useless along the line of his forehead. Both the sensation and the dirty talk have him reacting more than he’d like, but touching himself takes the backseat to bracing himself with both his hands lest he risk slipping and eating mad shit. It would definitely kill his boner if it didn’t also take him out while he was at it. Kiryu Kazuma, Dragon of Dojima. Death by cracking his skull open on a washiki toilet coated in 20 years of grime.
Kiryu bites his lip, swallowing a sound that ultimately would’ve been covered by the wet slap of Majima’s skin on his own. He tries to minimize how heavy his breathing is in his ears. Doesn’t do a great job, but this isn’t the kind of place to come apart. Not yet.
“Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. Mark ya up inside,” Majima rasps and Kiryu groans, embarrassed for hearing it and embarrassed about how his body tenses up at the thought. He wants to bang his head against the tile and gives halfway, pressing his forehead into discolored grout.
"Fuck. Oh, fuck," and an airy Kiryu-chan later, and Majima biting hard into the meat of his shoulder as he cums inside. Sometimes a creampie was just the extra touch that got him off, but Kiryu’s itch hadn’t been scratched this whole time and it wasn’t enough to push him over the edge this time. Honestly, it kind of makes him want to cry. If he were more emotionally compromised. Or desperate to ejaculate. He was some of those things but certainly not all of them in the right combination, so the tears are kept at bay. Majima holds off on pulling out until he’s got his hands ready, sliding out quick and pushing the plug back in even quicker to keep his cum from oozing out.
“Don’t wanna waste none. Or make a mess.” and it shouldn’t pass for an excuse because it feels so unfair. It’s not even remotely the same size as Majima’s cock so it feels disappointing to go back to, and makes a slimy noise as it rubs his insides. Majima tells him to pull his pants back up and keep it moving before they get caught, but all he wants to do is spin around and yank his dick until he spends, break Majima’s kneecaps on the tile when he shoves him down and tells him to stop messing around, suck him off and let him find some relief. Finally. Please.
Instead of doing any of that he shoots Majima something indignant and snatches his pants off the ground. Knows it’s better for both of them when he waits. That Majima will take care of him, even though he’s testing him right now.
Majima’s gone from the stall by the time Kiryu has his suit in working order again, that wicked little grin burned into the back of his brain.
A wad of used pocket tissues sleeps in the squat toilet.
Kiryu finally makes it home. In his own time.
He kicks his shoes off in the entryway, bags crunching uselessly on the floor, and isn’t exactly surprised to see Majima lounging on his couch, sending rapidfire texts to who-knows (Nishida). Even though the door was locked. Huh.
Best not to question it.
Majima greets him cat-like; with a pleased noise and an even more pleased grin, rolling off the sofa and slinking into Kiryu’s personal space. He kisses Kiryu chastely, hands coming up to squeeze his ass and Kiryu almost whimpers into his mouth.
“Oh, right. I almost forgot about that.” Like hell he did. Majima’s fingers caress the minimal give of Kiryu’s slacks, brushing between his thighs and up his crack. It’s not much of a touch but it’s enough for Kiryu to press his face into Majima’s bare shoulder, bringing his hands up to his waist to squeeze in warning. “C’mon, you did so well today. Lemme take care of ya.”
The bedroom is the same as they left it: rumpled sheets, half-open blinds. Majima bullies Kiryu onto the bed and he falls willingly, desperately, squirming out of his suit jacket and dress shirt, slacks and undergarments like he’s undergoing metamorphosis. Hopefully into something less painfully horny.
Majima, with his many less layers, does much of the same, ditching the leather pants and making the bed dip under their combined weight. He nudges Kiryu onto his side, sealing his body up against Kiryu’s back again and slipping a few fingers between his cheeks.
There’s less preamble with the plug this time, less tease. He slides the thing out and tosses it to the side, scooping come with two fingers to slick his cock before lifting Kiryu’s thigh and sliding home. He’s looser than he was in the stall and even more so than this morning and Majima tells him as much, relishing the heat he sees spread across Kiryu’s neck.
He’s easier to rile, the Kiryu of now. All pent up from the past two rounds, it wouldn’t be untrue to say that his need to orgasm preceded any other thought or function. He’s stupid with arousal and any hestiance or posturing is stripped bare, leaving him gasping and whining like a whore, pawing behind himself at Majima’s waist, urging him deeper.
And Majima, as always, is a patient man and is hellbent on breaking Kiryu down with repetition; piecing him apart and putting him back together into something better. He’s got his hand tight and still at the base of Kiryu’s cock, holding him steady as he fucks into his oversensitive hole. Kiryu's eyes prick with frustration and he thrashes in Majima’s grip for some friction.
"What if yer Goromi-chan saw ya like this, huh? Pussy all fucked out and takin' my cock so well."
Kiryu’s easily stronger than Majima when it comes to brute strength, but Majima flips him onto his stomach with an ease he would’ve never expected, would never have been able to get away with if not in a situation like this. Kiryu’s body is hot and trembling and he immediately rubs his dick against the sheets, Majima bracing himself on the back of his spread thighs and pushing back in.
“Honestly? You probably get wetter ‘n’ looser than she does. Look at how sloppy you are down here.” He continues, speaking to Kiryu but directed towards the open air, and rubs his finger against Kiryu’s rim. He’s flushed and puffy from the constant attention, stretched wide around Majima’s dick. He edges in a finger alongside his cock and his laugh is mean when Kiryu cries out, even as he brushes a hand through Kiryu’s sweaty hair in appeasement.
"Want her ta fuck ya like this, too? You'd like that, wouldn't ya? Think about it. We get ya all stretched out and filled up, maybe with one of those bitches that vibrates, and y'can watch her get all dolled up. She'll even let ya pick out her clothes. Hm? She'll prolly end up takin' em off anyway, but y'can see her put on her makeup… get dressed. All while she's got the remote fer the pretty little piece in yer ass.”
“Mm… whatddya think she’d wear? I bought a real cute babydoll the other day and ain’t got a chance to put it on yet. What color ‘s it? Oh, the same as yer shirt, that red.” Not ‘shirts.’ Kiryu should take offense that Majima thinks he only owns one shirt. Does it matter that most of them are the same cut and color? No. He didn’t actually ask, either, but it’s a lot less work on his end for Majima to interpret his moans as conversational input, especially considering Majima would still be talking even if he were the only one in the room.
He chuckles at how excited Kiryu seems at that information, stilling beneath him for a moment.
“Thinkin’ about it, huh? I’ll put it on fer ya then. Later.”
Kiryu snakes a hand under himself to jerk himself off, hissing in relief. It feels like this is the first time he’s stroked himself all day and it almost hurts with how good it feels, how hard he is.
"And when she's ready," he pauses, swallows. "When she's ready, yer on the bed, dick wet like a bitch in heat and she takes mercy on ya. Maybe she'll even suck yer cock if yer a good boy. How's that sound? And uh," god what was it. "What was that color lipstick ya like? The coral one? 's all smeared down the base of yer dick. Yeah.”
Kiryu doesn’t last for very long after that. He comes for the first time today to the thought of being marked by Goromi’s lipstick—her hot mouth and her sly smile—, smearing the sheets with his release as he grinds into his fist.
God, he’s so tired. Majima fucks him straight through his orgasm too, not letting up even when Kiryu twists with overstimulation, and he keeps talking, carrying on about Goromi this Goromi that through his unsteady breaths, his shaky rhythm.
"She ever fuck ya from behind?"
Even if it wasn’t rhetorical, Kiryu couldn’t answer. Any capacity for coherent thought or speech had been fucked out of him moments ago, and anyway, Majima knew the answer. Goromi is him, some of the time at least, and it isn't the cookie cutter body swap he mistook it for at the beginning.
"That's yer favorite ain't it? Takin’ her cock like ya can't live without it," slashed through by a breathy 'oh, fuck' "She kisses at yer neck, huh. Gets whatever's left of her lipstick all over ya."
Majima does what he can in the moment and makes up for the lack of lipstick with a little tongue, biting at Kiryu’s nape and running over the indents he leaves with his lips, his tongue. It would be ticklish if Kiryu weren’t sweltering, feverish, still rutting his over-sensitive cock against the mattress.
"Want her t'come inside? Want her to fill you up?"
Kiryu makes an almost desperate noise of agreement, head bobbing like a lure. Majima slows to a grind, prompts a verbal response.
“Yeah,”
“Yeah?”
“Want her to… want you to come inside,” punctuated with a 'Goro' gasped into the sheets, followed by a low groan that Majima matches, hips pressed flush to Kiryu’s ass as he fills him with his seed. Kiryu's cock twitches at the sound, dribbling weakly and sending the last few shockwaves of pleasure through his body.
"Fuck, did you—?" Majima half-asks in response to the clenching around him, too out of breath to voice the rest. Kiryu's too conked to hear the beginning let alone anything else, and the next thing he feels is Majima rearranging his legs and cleaning him out, and he’s being informed that yes, he did black out. Yes, I put the groceries away. No, you weren’t out for long, drink this water you dumb fuck. He inhales the drink in short order, the glass almost following before Majima snatches it, empty, out of his hands and wrestles him into a sharp little spoon.
It isn’t Majima’s style to thank or apologize, so he does neither, hooking his chin hard into Kiryu’s shoulder and laying his palms flat on the younger’s stomach. “Surprised ya held out fer as long as ya did.”
Thanks. Kiryu tilts his chin back, a groggy and uncoordinated headbutt that Majima answers with a bite to the meat of his neck, too high to cover with even his most-popped collar. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that? I’d like to think I last as long as anyone else might.”
“Ya don’t, though? Evidence is all over the sheets here, Kiryu-chan. Can’t fool no one with that shit.” That’s not even true and he knows it...
"Majima, you edged me so hard that I passed out."
"So? What does that have to do with you poppin' off at the drop of a hat?" No use in trying to reason with this man. Kiryu closes his eyes, exaggerates a sigh out of his nose. “If it’s any consolation, at least yer my quickshot.”
“Yours, huh?” Majima splutters at the implications, digging his chin in harder. Kiryu just laughs out of his nose. “Maybe I don’t mind the sound of that.”