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Majima slouched in the crack of his couch’s cushions like a thong. He was miserable and it’s only been an hour since Kiryu was called away for some plot convenient reason he could only assume was done purely to spite him. They were going to fight today - or something probably - it’s not like his schedule really ever changed from stalking Kiryu to fighting Kiryu to doing some dumb shit for the Tojo Clan as if it really mattered. He just wanted to let loose, you know? Run wild and free and suck off the gray suited fuck in some alley. It was paradise, bliss even.
But, it was an office day and Kamurocho was being rained on like a dog pissing on an anthill. He’d have no reason to go out there anyway when Kiryu wasn’t around to push his shit in. What was the point of going to the convenience store if you didn’t have the chance of getting a little stabbed? The fashion blind street punks and yakuza with egos bigger than their sense of self preservation didn't count. He sighed. No one in this city knew how to live.
He slumped further down with his flat ass hanging off the edge and head buried in the crevice of his collarbones. It was more than pathetic to see the infamous Mad Dog of Shimano turn into a flaccid cock just because of one guy but here he was in all his unimpressive glory. Maybe if he was lucky, the storm would worsen and a lightning bolt would set the Millennium Tower on fire. The idea of Kiryu coming to his rescue, carrying him out bridal style, was an attractive if incredibly stupid idea.
No, no actually, he wouldn’t want rescuing. Majima would want to fight on the rooftop in a timed race to beat the shit out of each other till the fire torched the entire building. Maybe they’d survive - or not - he was too depressed to care and it annoyed him that he felt that way at all. Kiryu ran through his mind like a hamster on a wheel, so damn cute and stuck in place with that constipated look on his features that drove him nuts. Majima had a particular yearning to see it change, to see the whites of his teeth and the O-face of a punch to the gut. In their own twisted sense it was foreplay: the preemptive pinch to a nipple before burying a cock in a handful of ass.
The office door clicked open and from behind a wall Nishida appeared with a Smile Burger bag and drink. Majima’s dark eye didn’t blink as he put down the food.
“Just what you ordered, oyaji,” he tentatively wrung his hands together, “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Ya can scram. Let everyone know the office is closed for today and that includes yer ass too,” Majima waved him away.
“You got it!” he scurried off, no doubt happy he was allowed to skip work but he did worry about his dear old boss who stared longingly at his pack of fries that looked like Kiryu’s hair if you squinted and ignored the complete and utter dissimilarity.
Once the entrance snapped shut Majima huffed. He wasn’t that hungry, truthfully, especially since he could just have a smoke for dinner but he figured food would give him something to distract his mind with, even more so if it was greasy and made his guts twist during a shit. He dumped the fries on the table and took out his burger. Setting it aside, he absentmindedly picked out the longest fries to munch on while making shapes with the others. He spelled out Kiryu’s name.
“Come the fuck on,” he hissed. He waved his hands through the potato flavored kanji and leaned back on the couch. He was losing his mind.
Kiryu was… a hyperfixation. Majima had a thing for guys that could break him like a toothpick and it showed. He was a glutton for punishment, knowing just what buttons to push to get socked in the jaw. He walked around like a slicked up asshole, spread open for dicking and asking for fights like he was owed them. Kiryu usually provided which was enough to satiate him for a few hours until again he grew hot and heavy with a lust for bust - the fat tits Kiryu insisted were pecs. When they started porking each other behind dumpsters and bathroom stalls, Majima grew obsessed, as if he wasn’t already. He had a system: provoke a fight, win or lose it didn’t matter, suck a dick, and go on his merry way feeling fulfilled and full like a jelly donut.
It was unhealthy, really, to be running around making dentists and doctors rich but he was the kind of guy that needed to be touched - roughly and on his own terms, he preferred. He spoke through violence with calloused fingers that only knew a language written in blood, bruises, and cuts. Some flowery poetic shit like that but it was the kind of literature Kiryu liked to read. Majima was an entire novel of angsty garbage he drew dicks over and scrapbooked with snakeskin and funny stickers in the shape of his personas. Kiryu couldn’t parse through that baggage without making a fool of himself but the attempt was there and it always made Majima feel a little something weird in his heart but very unquestionable in his pants.
He was a mess in his desire to be both murdered and fucked by Kiryu but when the other confirmed it was mutual (aside from the murder part), he felt like the other pea in a pod. “Trauma bonding” Majima liked to call it but Kiryu thought such glorification of their turmoil was in poor taste. The dumb oaf still stuck around though.
Except for today.
Majima turned his attention to the burger wrapped tightly in wax paper. It was still warm even after he spaced off to think about the heft of Kiryu’s balls and well, he started thinking. He thought a lot, to most people’s surprise, even if it often led to plans that could never possibly happen because he had to deal with things like reality getting in the way. But, some things were possible.
Hmm. Yeah.
He unfolded one end of the wrapper and a puff of steam escaped. Oh yeah. It was warm enough for things all right. He opened his mouth then closed it. He really wasn’t that hungry. There were two patties covered in cheese, ketchup and one cool lettuce leaf that had long since wilted. He thought that well… maybe he could… nah, nah that would be stupid. He put the burger down beside him and wiped his face. He dragged down his lower eyelids as the sandwich sat there menacingly, taunting him to do it since - who would know? Besides, you’re a lonely piece of shit, aren’t you? So eager to get your dick wet.
“Fuck off,” he sneered. He was talking to a cheeseburger.
He threw himself against the cushions and squirmed. What would Kiryu do in this situation? The freak of nature always remained cool and calm in any situation somehow; Majima would know best of course since he’s pulled every dumbass trick in the book on him. He eyed the burger warily. Kiryu would, uh, just eat it because he’s not deranged. Majima however couldn’t stand the thought of stuffing it down even if he were starving. He wasn’t hungry. Scratch that, he was hungry for sausage: the girthy kind that was filled with cum for some reason. Would Kiryu…? No, no he wouldn’t. But... maybe - if he was really desperate.
Majima began to sweat. It wouldn’t be that weird. He’s the Mad Dog after all, something like this would be expected of someone like himself. Well, actually, no. He was well aware of what everyone thought about him: he was a demon, he was a slut, he was some supernatural force that somehow contended with a dragon on every street corner. There was a lot to be said about him, within the Tojo Clan or the streets but he really doubted anyone would expect him to pick up a sandwich and slip his tongue in between the patties like a virginal teen on a pillow.
Or, maybe they would. He was that much of a needy freak so why bother hiding it.
It was hot in the folds of the beef but slick and soft enough for him to close his eye and imagine he wasn’t sucking on the greasy flabs of his dinner. They could be Kiryu’s lips he thought, so velvet smooth with a cut on the side right where Majima nicked him with his knife. He’d run his tongue over the wound and in the heat of things lick up the blood, savoring it across the roof of his mouth down his throat. Kiryu would press his tongue to the Dog’s teeth where he’d meet a mix of blood, spit, and cigarettes. The exchange of lips and bites would leave them breathless against a cold alley wall where Majima would beg for Kiryu’s hands around his throat, wrists, anywhere to render him helpless. He had a thing for prodding the Dragon to take him by the leash. Something, something dog metaphor was all he could picture with Kiryu leaning over his backside, digging his fingers into the meat of his ribs and telling him what a good boy he was for taking his dick.
He sucked gently on the meat, careful to keep it intact as he imagined Kiryu’s cock hanging loose out of his pants while he held Majima’s hair all rough and demanding. He’d treat him like a lollipop, so sugary sweet it made him fucking sick. He rolled his tongue against melted cheese. It wasn’t exactly like precum but for his sad sorry ass it was close enough. He wished it was salty and bitter, just like how Kiryu tastes. If Majima could, he'd have a dark coffee everyday with the Dragon’s spunk mixed in just because it’d be nasty enough to bother Kiryu and he could never pass up an opportunity to annoy the man he loved so much. They’d fight again over such dumbassery and Majima would end up on his knees with cock in his mouth just as planned. Kiryu was easy to work over but harder to get off and Majima was self assured he had the strongest neck in Kamurocho from giving him so much head.
He wrapped his lips around a chunk of bread and meat to reimagine it as Kiryu’s plump cockhead, all red and purple and so squeezable. Majima would gum down gently and roll the flat of his tongue across the slick slit until he frothed at the mouth with warm pre. The wilted lettuce was... like a foreskin, he concluded in his delirium, though it was too thin and fragile unlike Kiryu's who he'd bite and stretch and lick until the stoic fool begged for release. He’d lean back to let Kiryu paint his pecs in hot stripes that he’d lace through the crevices of his abs like a ball dropping down a pachinko machine. He’d make a lewd face and Kiryu would scoff. Yeah... just like that.
He smeared dripping grease across his chest to the mouth of his snake and the savory scent of fast food meat wafted around thick in the dark office. He splayed himself across the couch on his back, clumsily undoing his belt and pants. He hiked up his ass to shed the leather down to his knees, staring at his lower half. He was erect as a flagpole and the thin panties he chose today might as well have been tissue paper with how easy his dick sprang from them. His cock twitched as if it could sense the burger in his hand and the wet slabs of meat it could occupy the space in between. He could have stopped there but, well, he already came this far. And damn it if he didn't want to come soon.
He slipped his cock into the burger’s center through a layer of gooey cheese. It was beginning to cool but the warmth was acceptable. It wasn’t hot like the tight inner walls of Kiryu’s ass but maybe he could pretend he was fucking him in some squalor backroom in the middle of winter. He squeezed the burger just enough to envelope his shaft in its squishy mix without smashing it entirely. He briefly thought he should have worn a condom. Briefly.
“Kiryu-channn, baby…” he moaned into the couch cushion.
He twitched his hips up into the sandwich that squelched slick and effortlessly along his length. The buns molded into the shape of his fingers while he jerked it down, thinking about the heavy slaps of Kiryu’s thighs against his own. He could hear him now, whimpering into a balled fist, face flushed red and thick cock bouncing against his stomach with a sputter of milky desire. He’d stroke him in short motions, thumbing his cockhead until he couldn’t hold back his moans. Kiryu was a quiet partner, at least until breathy groans and panting sighs escaped him, pleading for more. He spread his thighs as wide as his leathers would allow him to manically hump into the burger, into the air, into the fantasy asshole shaped just for him. Majima jerked to the open side of the couch in a fit of pained yearning for the real thing.
His eye went wide and the two brain cells he had functioning told him bracing for impact was for cucklords.
Majima rolled onto the floor face first with a clumsy thud, squashing open the other end of the burger wrapper. Cheese spilled with the peak of his dick through the abused meat. Driven automatically by the frantic heat of his crotch, he hastily positioned himself on his knees, holding the burger together with both hands as if it wasn’t more than a sloppy mound of meat and juice. He leaned forward until his head touched the ground, pumping, choking, pulling against his cock. He was in Kiryu’s ass, bent over his taut cheeks that would burn his hands with each thunderous spank. Kiryu would pout and whine that Majima wasn’t going hard enough, fast enough and it would piss him off. Kiryu would keep pressing buttons until Majima slammed him down to fuck the floor and bruise his guts like his dick was a blender. He wanted to see Kiryu bite his knuckles raw and make a mess of himself like the dribbling, cum hungry slut he knew he was.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck—” he grunted as he slid himself in a quaking heap against the cold tile. “Ya like that, ya like that, I know ya do...”
He should have stuck something in his ass. He would stick something in his ass. He brought one hand to his mouth, wetting his gloved hands in saliva. The concoction of tastes on his tongue was admittedly worse than he imagined: the distinctive tartness of ketchup hinted ever so strongly with salty precum. He could barely taste the meat in his foggy daze of wishing it was Kiryu’s sweat and seed coating his mouth instead of oil.
Majima stretched his arm back to rim his puckering entrance. Tongue… right, Kiryu’s tongue on him, exploring him, getting him slick and ready. He prodded his hole tentatively, letting it suck his fingers. He slid the middle one in with a sigh that released some pressure off the death grip he had on his cock. Kiryu didn't tongue him often, complaining about some such things like unwashed ass but when he did Majima melted each time, belting out those high notes he knew Kiryu liked to hear. The lustful smile on his face was priceless, making one almost think the stick up Kiryu's ass wasn't permanent. Majima swirled around his inner walls, venturing deeper until the leather snagged on drying skin.
“Shit.” He stared at the clusterfuck of bread and meat spooning his throbbing shaft. Ketchup, cheese and pre pooled below his cockhead in an oily paint-like puddle. “I could… yeah.”
He quickly wrenched his hand to the ground to smear it against the milky red cream. Thoroughly coated, he slipped it back in with pleasing ease along with a second finger. He knew it was a bad idea but fuck it, when has he ever had a good one?
Ignoring... everything, he pumped himself vigorously; light airy breaths mingled with the sloppy suction of his fingers as he quivered into the tile, biting his lip. Kiryu would hold him down by the scruff of his neck, other hand poised to twist his nipples if he got a bit too talkative while he snapped his hips into his tight ass. He’d grunt like an animal and the slap of his balls would grow louder - feverish in their desperation to be emptied. Hot breath would trail down Majima’s spine as Kiryu kissed him up and down, clawing at anything to grasp while he grew closer and closer. Majima would pant into his palms, hiding his tear laden eyes, hoping he’d be fucked to death and presented balls out at his funeral.
Majima squeezed his thighs together, the knot in his gut becoming overwhelming. He knuckled in his fingers, nowhere near how Kiryu would hilt himself home, throbbing deep in his heat but it was a half decent substitute for someone with zero standards. He crooked his fingers where the crown of Kiryu’s cock would meet his prostate and choked out a muffled moan that bubbled from his slack jaw. His hips ground themselves against the floor, aching, trembling and weak with cum pulsing from his cock.
He collapsed with a splat on top of what could have been a burger with enough context and imagination. “F-Fuck… fuck me…” he rasped into a puddle of drool.
His chest heaved and it would have been so nice to have someone’s hands massage the swell of his pecs in a post-coital cuddle instead of his erect nipples grazing the cold ground. He wasn’t really one for gushy intimacy after a good bang but he wouldn’t say no to Kiryu’s tender hands tracing his snakes or the whorl of ink on the meat of his cheeks. He felt cold against the indifferent tile that didn’t even have the politeness of calling him a cumdump like Kiryu would. The man always knew the "best" ways to flirt and trade awful pet names that never stuck but it was the effort that counts.
The arm in his ass fell unceremoniously to his side. He relaxed his legs which were suffocating in the sausage casing of his pants. He shimmied himself upright onto the balls of his heels and glared at the disaster on his crotch.
His hands were caked in meat and soggy bread, sauce sticking to the creases of his gloves. Time to throw those out. His cock fared no better being encased in a cocoon of beef and cheese sticking as much as the cum did in some sort of unholy matrimony of substances. His stomach was smeared in seed, still glazed in grease and now pouring sweat. He wrinkled his nose. He should have put a towel down or something but damn if the nut wasn’t actually pretty good—
“Nii-san?”
Majima turned slow enough to rival continental drift. Kiryu stood rain drenched, mouth agape, Poppo plastic bag in hand until it slipped from his fingers in a clatter of aluminum cans and crunching packets. Neither moved for what felt like ages though the slow trace of Kiryu’s eyes from Majima’s sticky hairline to his matted pubes was painfully obvious. Majima’s hands froze at his sides and he could only brandish out a pained smile like he was in a meeting at Clan HQ. For the first time in a long time he felt something odd and flushed rise up within him.
“K-Kiryu-chan! W-What are yo- How did ya get in here?”
Kiryu’s eyelid twitched, “You gave me a key, remember? Did you-” he wearily grimaced at the burger remains and scattered Smile Burger wrappers, “-did you fuck a cheeseburger?”
Majima knew better than to deny it but- “No?”
Kiryu closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I told you-” he took a breath, “-I was just going to drop Haruka off and get us some snacks.”
He bent down to grab his bag, visibly shaking. “Tuck yourself away, we’re going home. Your place is closest.” He stomped towards the door while Majima struggled with his pants.
“Haw? Ya still wanna be with me after this?”
“Absolutely not.” He avoided looking anywhere but Majima’s crusty ass bread covered cock. “I’m not touching you until you shower… Did you finger yourself too? Actually don’t tell me.” He could see it - streaks of ketchup mingling with the ink of Majima's irezumi.
Kiryu winced at the sounds of soft dick sliding back into leather and the visceral image of Majima not bothering to brush off chunks of burger as he zipped up. He fisted some napkins to his abs in a poor attempt to mop up his own slime, ignoring the oil glistening off his chest. Majima beamed at a job shittily done. Kiryu’s frown was impressively more distraught than usual.
“I can’t believe you.”
“Is this really so bad?” he gestured to the puddle of spunk, “Yikes. Ehh don’t worry ‘bout it, I’ll have Nishida clean it up.”
“And you’re giving him a raise.” Majima propped up a brow that Kiryu returned with stern shoulders and a crack of his knuckles.
“Fine, geez. Can’t ya feel just a lil’ sorry fer me? I’m prolly gonna get a rash up my dickhole now.”
Kiryu opened the office door for Majima so he wouldn’t get his nasty little hands on it, “Good.”
