Work Text:
Kiryu kicks a staggered Majima into a pile of garbage, grabbing a nearby bicycle without regard for the poor sap who needs it for work tomorrow. He jumps up, the bike frame poised overhead, and slams down. Majima wheezes, passing out limply under old takeout boxes and the remains of two wheeled transportation. Kiryu stands up, dusting himself off. He prods Majima’s protruding foot, getting a twitch out of him. Good. While he does get a kick out of pushing Majima’s shit in, it’s only courteous to make sure he’s still alive.
He emerges from the alley and the blinding light of noon gives him pause. The day only just began but frankly he couldn’t be assed to do anything else today. Already he’d been accosted by more thugs than he had fingers and a ghost. Maybe it was a ghost. It wasn’t a ghost. But it could—
He shakes his head. He wants to go home. Haruka is away with Date since that’s a convenient place to put her for narrative purposes. He could have his whole flat to himself and that’s a very attractive idea - sexy even. He could lounge on the couch or sleep or jack off to the magazines under his bed. He almost forgot what the concept of taking a break was.
He runs a hand through his hair, catching the sweat dripping down his forehead. The walk home is doable but the heat beating down on him is a little too much for the suit he refuses to change out. A taxi, perhaps? He opens his wallet. Empty. He had spent all his remaining cash on staminans in case Majima jumped him. He looks back in irritation at the leather wrapped leg sticking out of the rubbish pile. He could take some yen from Majima but the man would know, being so annoyingly meticulous about such things and wouldn’t let petty thievery go even if Kiryu did win the right to pick up the glowing, floating wad of cash on the ground. Eh. It’s not worth the trouble.
Kiryu shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around. Guess he’s walking - unless? He spies a perfectly good bicycle sitting alone against a stand, ripe for the taking. He casually walks over to it, gazing around as suspiciously as he can and hops on. He didn’t ride these much but it is easy enough to fall into instinct even if he almost knocks over an entire group on his way down the road.
The ride to his apartment is uneventful and that gives him worry. Not a single person stops him for some side bullshit or his wallet. If he didn’t know better, he would think riding a bike makes him invisible. He skids to a stop in front of the stairs. Thinking better than to leave the bike outside, he carries it up with him, planning on returning it later. Probably. Or it’ll become a makeshift weapon. Who knows what grand mysteries tomorrow may bring.
Once inside he leans the bike against the wall, takes off his shoes, and shimmies down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. He lives in a small space sparsely decorated with the bare necessities. Looking at it now he feels distressed at the barren abode, knowing Haruka deserves better than what amounts to an older man’s bachelor pad with the decorative taste of flour.
He flops onto the couch. Finally taking his jacket and shirt off, he can feel the cool air greet his sweat-sticky skin in a myriad of goosebumps and chills. He rolls his head back. The clicks and snaps of his neck loudly fill the room. Hmm.
He feels awkward in his own house like he should be doing something. He could be outside helping people, he supposes, even at the cost of his own personal health.
“No, this is me time,” he states. That feels awkward too. “Sheesh.”
He hops up. Maybe a little wanky spanky would do him some good. Post nut clarity and all that.
In his room, he looks up and down for a certain snakeskin textured cocksleeve but comes up empty. He figures Majima must have taken it the last time he was there even though it was a gift for his birthday.
“Tch.” He crosses his arms disappointingly . That sleeve felt really good too.
He could just use his hands but eh, the effort to do so was waning. He squeezes his balls lightly as he bends down under his bed to grab a few magazines. He notices a small traffic cone off to the side amid other various items that could be used as weapons in an impromptu fight. Never know when you need a cattle prod or large rock to beat back a goblin from breaking into your house.
He grabs the cone, not really sure why but some force, some great evil tells him it’s a spicy idea. It is small, about the length of his forearm and unremarkable really. The hole at the top is smooth, inside and out. How convenient.
“I should wash this.” Kiryu has a habit of stating the obvious to himself, especially if it involves a key item.
He gives the cone a good scrub in the bathroom, gingerly tending to it with a mild soap. He rubs the pads of his fingers across the rim of the top. The contours of the slightly misshapen plastic mold aren’t exactly silky but it wouldn’t be painful…
“Shit, what am I thinking?” About slapping the salmon apparently. “It’ll just be the one time. Just once. Hmm.”
Distant words from Majima echo in his head - something something about living for once. Or maybe it’s something about being emotionally constipated? He mulls it over as he dries the cone and pops the lid on a bottle of lube.
It isn’t long before he lays himself out on his bed, nude, stroking himself with the cone on his lap. He tears a condom open and puts it on. Unlike a certain someone, he isn’t about to fuck an inanimate object without protection - not that it made the situation any better but it couldn’t get worse.
Kiryu gives the cone a longing stare like watching the last seconds of a microwave tick by. This is something Majima would do.
This is something Majima would do.
He covers his mouth to smooth his palm over his lips and scraggly beard. He could stop now and jerk his gherkin normally like any sane person would but…
He saddles the cone up to his flushed cockhead. It is just about the diameter of his dick, bigger or smaller he couldn’t quite tell. Kiryu takes a breath. He presses in slowly and confirms it is on the smaller side. The Dragon of Big Dick moans into the air as he slides in further, pumping the cone with one hand and squeezing his funsticles in the other. The cone is small enough to be comfortably tight but not so small it threatens to get him stuck. But, the rush of blood to his cock engorges him and it quickly becomes difficult to move the cone as far along his length as before.
Fear briefly makes home on his face but the ringtone of his phone goes off in the living room, distracting him for a moment. He stumbles up, holding the cone in place while he makes his way to his jacket and rummages for the phone. Of course it’s Majima. He considers ignoring it but didn’t want to return to dozens of missed messages later.
“What.”
Majima scoffs, “The fuck ya mean ‘what?’ Ya beat my ass and leave me fer dead without even a kiss goodbye?”
“You were unconscious and that would be wrong.”
“I didn’t mean literally, dumbass. What’re ya up to anyway?”
Kiryu sits down on this couch, idly sliding the cone back and forth. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Where are ya? I could go another round. Or food. I’m hungry.”
“Very interesting but I’m busy.”
Majima laughs, “What, helpin’ some saggy tit old fart cross the street again?”
“Nii-san… that's no way to talk about yourself, we've been over this.”
Kiryu could hear Majima shuffle on the other end, doing what was anyone’s guess but the line goes silent. He hears a clang and leather gloves squeak as he picks up the phone.
“Alright where the fuck are ya so I can shove my bat up yer ass,” he spits without hiding the giddiness in his voice.
“Heh, I told you I’m busy.” He leans back to rub himself a little faster, feeling the chub begin to wane.
“ Please. I know ya ain’t doin’ shit. Otherwise Nishida woulda told me. Yer at home aren’t ya.”
Kiryu gulps. Loudly. “No.”
“Hah! Yer awful at lyin’. Too many good bones in yer body and I wouldn’t mind breakin' a few. Be over in a bit.”
“No! Don’t!”
In his panic, Kiryu drops the cone between his legs and it yanks on his cockhead, not enough to actually fall off but enough to make him yelp and regret everything he’s ever done up to that point. Majima, about to hang up, carefully puts the phone back to his ear. Kiryu squirms on the couch, failing to keep quiet.
“Yo. What’re ya actually doin’? ”
“N- Nothing.”
Majima drops his voice. “Why doncha wanna tell me, Kiryu-chan? Doin’ somethin’ ya shouldn’t?”
“No.” His voice is strained. A familiar sound Majima is no stranger to.
“Mmm. So ya are. Ohhh Kiryu-chan ya know ya can’t hide nothin’ from lil ol’ me~”
Kiryu recedes into the couch cushions. He holds the cone in a more comfortable position, annoyed at how hard he became from the painful tug and the sultry inquiry of Majima’s voice. He considers his options. He could hang up now which would invite Majima over. He could continue denying everything which would invite Majima over. Or he could flee the city, never to be seen again and be inevitably jumped in the middle of a secluded rainforest a continent over by Majima. He wasn’t getting out of this but he would try to make the most of it.
“I’m touching myself.”
Majima puffs out something akin to astonishment, “Wow. Didn’t think ya’d be so direct about it. I like that. Want some help? Eh??”
“Could you just do it over the phone? I want to try that…” He hopes this would keep him at bay and lo and behold-
“Kazzy! Ya shoulda just said so from the start! Gimme a minute, I gotta get prepped.”
Kiryu wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but he waits, throbbing at the anticipation of things to come. This would work well in his favor. He gets to have a little fun with Majima and he would be none the wiser. He mentally high-fives himself.
Majima returns a few minutes later with a clatter, dumping a bunch of somethings beside him. Kiryu recognizes the sound of his zipper and the shuffle of leather being thrown aside. A pop. Lube squelches. A soft moan.
“Getting started without me, nii-san?”
“Just uh-” he groans into the receiver, “-gettin’ ready. Ain’t fair I gotta catch up.”
Kiryu chuckles a low breathy sigh while he listens to Majima loosen up on the other end. He positions himself along the couch and pumps the cone slowly, letting his own moans cascade into the phone.
“Nii-san?” He gets an affirmative grunt. “Are you wearing anything interesting?” He expects the usual but Majima occasionally has something garish underneath it all.
Majima is so excited he could throw up. One hand on the phone and the other exploring his ass, he crowds against the screen so close Kiryu could feel his hot breath and spit.
“Course, course. I put on that dress ya like, the short black one with the cut in the side.”
“The one that shows your thigh?”
“Yeah… yeah…” Majima works himself open with his ass in the air, letting the shiny silk dress pool down his back.
“That’s my favorite one, nii-san.” Kiryu could picture it so clearly - on the floor in a heap after ripping it off. He can see his hand running down Majima’s ass, tickling the edge of the inky clouds and flowers. “Tell me what your mouth would do to me.”
“Fuckkk Kiryu-chan, ya know I’d be all over yer cock, eatin’ ya like the fuckin’ meal ya are. I’d keep ya in my mouth - savor that taste. Maybe leave a buncha lipstick stains on yer dick.” He twisted onto his back, “How would ya want me? On the floor beggin’ fer it? Would ya fuck my face?”
Kiryu wished he had brought over the bottle of lube. The cone could use more against the hot friction of his strokes. The condom peels off at some point, pushed by the rough lip of the cone. He places the phone down his abs so Majima could hear the wet slaps. Majima thinks it sounds a bit off but that's a minimal worry.
“You’re pretty hot when you beg, Majima-san.” He goes a bit faster, a bit more uncontrolled. The lip of the cone sticks fast at the edge of his cockhead, making him whine with each catch of the plastic. His other hand collects a bit of lube from his matted pubes and snakes its way down to his ass where a finger then two sends him whimpering into the nearest pillow.
Majima holds the phone against his shoulder and ear to free up his hands for his thighs. The tight inner muscles tense and prickle against his touch, one that he imagines is Kiryu’s. He palms his dress covered abs to slide the fabric into the dips of his torso. Smooth and sleek and so sensitive, his body tingles with every rise of Kiryu’s breathy yearning.
“I want ya here with me right now. I want ya so bad I could fuckin’ die,” Majima whines. “Want ya to use me. Beat the shit outta me till I can’t move and have yer way with my ass.”
Kiryu isn’t always enchanted by the prospect of violence and sex but he couldn’t deny that sometimes they were the same thing when it came to the both of them.
“I would… I would like that- Ah!” Kiryu hisses through his teeth as he cums into the cone. It is a little weird to see his spend shoot out the other end like a gross party popper but he commends himself on the distance.
Kiryu’s chest heaves as he lays there while carefully dislodging his dick from the cone. He is certainly more red than before but no worse for wear. The relief that washes over him cools him off quickly. The other end of the line is silent other than floppy slapping sounds.
“Sorry, I know that was quick.”
“Don’t worry about it, Kiryu-chan, that was hot as shit. Ya done?”
Kiryu contemplates it for a brief second before proclaiming, “No. Give me a second.”
Majima is surprised. Kiryu is usually a one and done dude - by himself anyway - but isn’t going to complain about surprises in store. He strokes his cock slowly as he waits, thumbing the bright red lace designs at the fringe of his dress with his other hand. His private musings are interrupted by a thud on Kiryu’s end.
“The fuck was that?”
Kiryu yells in the distance, “Nothing! I’m just uh moving uh f-furniture.”
“...Why?”
“It—,” Kiryu pauses while carrying the bike into the tiny living room, shoving aside a chair and couch, “—makes me hard,” he blurts.
He shouldn’t have said anything.
“Oh.”
Majima is silent for some minutes while Kiryu busies himself with laying down the bike on its side against a wall as quietly as he could. He picks up the phone yet lets the silence eat away at any possible explanation he had concocting in his mind. None of them are remotely good so he narrows down which would be the least embarrassing.
“Nii-san?”
“Huh? Sorry Kiryu-chan was just uh, thinkin’.”
“Please forget I said anything.” Kiryu’s erection is already shrinking and figures his plans are ruined.
Majima cackles, “Ain’t a big deal! Just didn’t expect that from ya! Next time ya come over I’ll have the boys bring in a buncha chairs or some shit n’ I’ll letcha move em around to yer heart’s content!”
While Kiryu is soothed by Majima’s blind acceptance, he also wants a wrecking ball to smash his apartment with him in it right here and now. “T-Thank you, nii-san.”
“So big guy, what else ya gonna do? Or didja get all yer kicks outta interior design?”
Kiryu hops up, heading to his room for the lube. “I was planning on doing some butt stuff.”
“Gee, when ya say it like that, it’s so sexy," he says flatly. "What’re ya stickin’ up there? Got a new toy?” Majima rolls over onto his stomach in excitement, yoinking his dick.
“You could say that.” He holds back a laugh. He doesn’t even know what’s actually funny but perhaps that’s the delirium settling in. Is that what being Majima is like?
“Ya got one by yerself? Wow.”
"I do a lot of things by myself. I'm not sheltered," Kiryu groans. “Last time we went shopping, your idea of ‘discreet’ was a mall in the middle of a huge sale.”
“No one fuckin’ saw us and we wore disguises.”
“What? You only put on sunglasses and the clerk addressed you by name anyway.”
Majima puffs air through his lips and rambles about the values of being covertly out in the open or some such thing Kiryu didn’t give a rat’s ass about. He returns to the bike. A handlebar sticks out at an angle that practically begs to be used inappropriately but no one in their right mind would think to jam such a gritty rod up their bunghole.
And yet-
Kiryu wraps the handle in a condom with a drizzle of lube on top. Nice, good work team. So eager to hop on, he twists around to press himself on the edge to test the waters. It’d be a rough ride but he could fit it; it’s smaller than most things Majima sticks in him anyway. He presses on, feeling the tip pass his puckered rim. It ah, definitely has a texture. He sighs, light and feathery, going deeper until his thighs quiver weakly, so close to giving out. It’s an awkward angle, sandwiching one leg behind a wheel and the other in between the middle of the frame. He readjusts his knee, accidentally hitting a bell on the other handlebar. The phone drops to the floor.
“What’s that? What’s goin’ on? Ya gotta give me details man, my dick’s turnin’ to mush here.”
“Nothing, nii-san…” Kiryu is enveloped in his own fog. He drops his head, hands bracing his legs, jutting forward like he’s humping a pillow, like he did last week when Majima was away on Tojo business. “Hah-”
“Hey! Yer fuckin’ yerself and yer not lettin’ me in on it?” Majima whines, needy and annoying. Just how Kiryu tolerates it - well, likes it but you won’t hear him admit that.
Majima's voice carries on like background noise, static in the air. Kiryu drives himself to the rhythm of the throbs of his hole, to the burning heat in his gut. His cock, stiff and leaking messily on the floor, flops back and forth and he’s entranced by it. He didn’t think he could get off like this, like how someone deranged would but maybe Majima is onto something with the wack ass things he chooses to stick his dick in. He doesn’t care about keeping the bike’s own noises quiet anymore and the ringing of the bell keeps alerting Majima to something but he doesn’t know what and it annoys him. Majima thumbs his balls like he’s stroking his beard and comes to the incredible conclusion he's going to get jack shit out of Kiryu at this point. Kiryu’s breathy panting on the other end offers no help with his feral, non-responses.
Kiryu sinks down, twisting his hips in a circular fashion, rubbing his walls against the handlebar’s ribs like a tongue on a lollipop. The bike's frame creaks with his weight and it bends. He’s beading sweat, panting, gelled hair falling out of place. His prostate is jabbed like a billiards ball too many times by his unsteady gait. He’s crying.
It’s all too much and he starts weeping, howling, barely held up by the bike’s weakening frame on the ground. He reaches for his cock and tugs, palming the head and running hands that are far too dry along the fat pulsing veins. He cries out as he cums in long strands before him, ignorant to who can hear (everybody). He’s so fucked out he doesn’t notice his call with Majima long since ended.
As far as his titanic stature will let him, he leans forward to clutch the tightness of his stomach. He slips the handlebar out, leaving the loose condom hanging out of his ass. Toppling to the floor in his own puddle, he catches his breath, settling into a comfy ball of sweat. He feels filthy and looks it too, curled up on the ground in a trembling mess. He’s almost tempted to lick up the spillage on the ground in some primal desire to taste it. Nothing could really phase him at this point. It’s already smeared on his side in sticky lines and he likes it, being glazed in hot sex. He swipes a glob of cum and drenches it on the handlebar, just to watch it drip like syrup. It’s not a convincing cock but it would do for the fantasy. He shrugs his shoulders once as he breathes. Calm. Maybe this whole letting loose thing wasn’t so bad after all.
His heart stops.
The window to his left slides open and Majima’s stepping in, decked out in the aforementioned dress and a pair of heels. He’s manic, eye wide and hungry, then pales, more than he already is, when he spies Kiryu’s crumpled form, frozen. They stare at each other. The silence is thick and one could hear the cum drip from Kiryu’s cock. He can’t even fathom how Majima got up here on the second story against a shear wall in what feels like only a few minutes.
Majima blinks.
“What the fuck.”
“N-Nii-san I can explain!” Kiryu attempts to get up but his legs are weak and he only falls flat on his ass with a splat. A long strand of cum drips from the handlebar. It splatters like thunder as both men struggle to find words.
Majima shakily enters, gripping the window frame with his nails. He’s trembling. Quaking. The gears turn and the wicked smile on his face is dangerous. Kiryu puts on his usual scowl but it falters and his brows make the rare trek up his face instead of downward. He scoots backwards until his shoulders meet a lounge chair and Majima steps on the ass hugging condom, pulling it out with a swipe of his foot. Kiryu squeaks something high pitched and foreign.
“This… this is perfect,” Majima whistles.
Kiryu babbles but none of it is coherent. Majima bites his cherry red lips. He could practically cream himself now by the elation, the pure joy of it all. This is better than any dicking he ran over here for.
“So, is that the furniture?” he whispers, nodding to the bike. Kiryu says nothing. Even better. “Well well well,” he sings with a sway of his hips to punctuate each word, “looks like—”
Majima’s phone buzzes. He whips it out, from who knows where - probably his ass - and snarls, “The fuck ya want, Nishida? I’m busy.”
“Sorry sir! You’re not at home or the office so I figured you were with Kiryu-san. Could you ask him something? Please?”
How unlike Nishida to inquire about Kiryu when one of Majima’s schemes isn't involved. Hmm.
“What?”
“My bike went missing earlier today. Kiryu-san always uses those to fight people and one of the boys saw him near where I left it. Could you ask if he smashed it?” Nishida’s voice wavers into defeated acceptance, “It’s alright if he did of course. It’s not a special bike or anything… It’s dark blue with ‘lightning’ painted on the frame. The front wheel has a spoke missing-”
For once Majima is more than happy to indulge Nishida in his silly little request. Majima turns up the volume as Nishida describes his bike and Kiryu’s jaw slacks. He’s saying something but nothing comes out. Majima’s eye zips between the bike and Kiryu’s horrified expression, growing ever more violently excited as Nishida jabbers on.
Majima interrupts him, “Oh he smashed it alright.”
“Oh. I figured.” He sighs. “Thanks… uh boss?”
Majima laughs, high and terrifyingly loud, his head thrown back towards the ceiling, arms splayed wide and fingers curled. Kiryu takes his chance and books it to his bedroom, locking the door. Majima’s pounding on the other side, screeching and cackling.
“KIRYU-CHANNN! What speed does yer ass prefer? Twenty-one? Seven? I got a rida ya can try!”
Nishida should have hung up. He should have done a lot of things - in regards to his life in general.
He thinks that maybe he should walk to work from now on.