Archive of Our Own

Majima had to be honest with himself, he knew this was the day he’d fuck Kiryu. Yeah he’d had his doubts when Kiryu walked into purgatory with that lady cop ‘cause she was a looker and he’d seen how she’d looked at Kiryu. Shit, could you blame her? But it was somewhere between that high kick he’d dodged in the colosseum and Kiryu grabbing him and slamming him face first into the ground when Majima Goro knew in his gut it was finally gonna happen.

Kiryu’s hand offering to help him up only confirmed it.

He kept his word to hash the details with Kiryu over a drink and they went back to the Florist’s office with those giant fish swimming all over the place that cost him a fortune to keep alive and feed enough that they didn’t eat each other, but hey, it had been a condition of Majima taking over this place, so he made sure Nishida tracked down the best aquarist in Tokyo to keep them all from floating to the surface.

His face was still throbbing as he led Kiryu over to the giant desk, and ducked under it, rummaging around in the desk drawer before finally jumping back up with a bottle of cheap Suntory Whiskey and two unwashed glasses.

Not bothering to remove his construction hat, he poured them both a glass and took a seat, listening to Kiryu. The whole situation Kiryu spelled out was sketchy as hell to him. The Tojo clan being so desperate that Kiryu asked him to help them out... Terada being capped…

Kiryu had been gone for a year and he sure as fuck is surprised when Majima revealed how he finally bailed after being done with Terada’s bullshit. He forgotten that Kiryu had named Terada his replacement after all. Might be some guilt there which he hadn’t considered before the whiskey let him spew out a year’s worth of issues he’d had with Terada. How he’d run Tojo into the fucking ground and all but cut off Kashwagi’s balls.

“Well, can’t fault ya’ for not being a mind reader” Majima said.

He gave Kiryu a half-hearted reassuring pat on his shoulder and walked by him, sitting on his desk, sipping his whiskey and watching those fishes swim by. It sure as shit wasn’t his best whiskey. He had it stored under his desk for later night paper crunches with Majima Construction and self-medication for when the time alone in that huge office got to him and he started to remember all the things he’d tried to put past him years ago. “Ya know, nothin’ wrong with trusting a guy, but ya’ gotta be careful…” A sturgeon swam by and grabbed one of the damsel fish in one gulp as if on cue. Majima made a mental note to tell Nishida to feed them more often.

Kiryu, whiskey glass still in hand, joined him on the desk. Just the two of them, watching the fish together. It would have been fucking romantic if they weren’t talking intense family dynamics and politics. A perfect first date if Kiryu hadn’t come down to Purgatory, figurative hat in hand begging for his help — which Majima was more than happy to once Kiryu kicked the shit out of him after a year of a fucking dry spell.

Majima shook his head “Can’t believe ya’ went to all that trouble and you’re still letting me off the hook from coming back to the Tojo Clan...” He downed his glass, looked over at Kiryu’s near empty one and felt around for the bottle that was still on the desk. Shit, he wished he’d planned this better, Kiryu always took ice in his whiskey. He’d ambushed him at Bacchus enough times to know that. Fuck, Majima was shitting the bed at his ability to host in his old age.

He refilled Kiryu’s glass and looked at him. Kiryu looked just as driven and determined as the day he met him. It was a personality that made Majima aroused and pissed at the same time. He was never sure if it made him want to break Kiryu, or if he just wanted Kiryu to break him. Recently it had been the later.

“Thought you’d want me to come crawling back to Tojo on all fours... give me a nice collar to wear.” All the very intentional innuendo aside, he’d have done it too. Not for Tojo, but for Kiryu. Shimano was dead ‘cause of him, and even with that ‘nothing personal’ text he’d sent Kiryu that night when he was a bottle deep of the cheapest scotch he could get from Popo after hearing the news, he hadn’t felt so free since he’d left Sotenbori. Kiryu had set him free from a wretched hell without him even knowing it and Majima would roll over, sit, and bark on command if that’s what Kiryu wanted him to do.

Kiryu sighed and shook his head “God help anyone who tries to put a collar on you Majima-san.”

Ah. So someone else enjoyed dog analogies too.

Majima smirked. “I wouldn’t mind if you collared me, Kiryu-chan”

He anticipated Kiryu’s actions for a moment. Most likely a blank stare and declaration of him leaving. But then he saw that look Kiryu’s face. That smirk, that steady breathing, those beautiful eyes, and any other jokes or jabs or attempt to goad Kiryu into a fight were gone.

Majima stood up from the desk, leaned forwards and kissed Kiryu hard, tongue shoving into him, one hand pulling and jerking at his hair, the other had tried to paw at his chest, but it was now tightly restrained by a freakishly strong grip as Kiryu kissed him back. It was everything he’d fucking hoped it would be. Kiryu was a goddamned beast and that forceful hand restraining his made Majima’s dick twitch against his pants.

He’d thought about this countless times. Kiryu Kazuma. Strong enough to overpower him, do anything he wanted with him, but now it was reality. Kiryu’s lips against his, the firm hold on his wrist, the smell of cigarettes that surrounded him. With the way they’d viciously fought in the past, Majima only knew only one other man on earth who knew his body the way Kiryu did. Majima broke off their kiss and bit him on the lip, excited to see Kiryu’s reaction. Maybe a bite back, or a strong slap across his face to put Majima back in his place.

Kiryu barely flinched.

This was bullshit. Majima had been fighting Kiryu for years, practically nursed his sorry ass back to health once he’d gotten out of the clink. Knew how Kiryu felt when he grabbed his wrists, his shoulders, his hair. Knew how Kiryu smelled with those cigarettes of his or the whiskey on his breath. Fuck, if he included the one time Majima’s teeth had angrily sank into his arm to break out of a choke hold, he knew how Kiryu tasted. He was impatient, it had been over ten years and here was Kiryu, the fucking Dragon of Dojima. Majima sure as hell wanted to do more than kiss. Impatiently, Majima dismounted the desk, shoving Kiryu backwards, planning to climb onto him, rip his stupid shirt open and probably just bite down on one of those nipples for good measure.

He was caught off guard when Kiryu regained his balance, grabbed Majima by his hips and shoved them both against the fish tank with a thud. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and before he could regain his composure, Kiryu grabbed his thighs and pushed him upwards, back against the tank, continuing to kiss him. Majima wriggled out of his kisses once again, nipping at his neck and ears, while using one hand to claw at his back, the other one preoccupied with keeping his safety helmet on for no other reason than he knew keeping it on was messing with Kiryu’s head.

“Ya’ wanna fuck me Kiryu-chan?” he muttered into his ear, stubble scratching against Kiryu’s. He was hard now, erection pressing against his leather pants to the point where it was uncomfortable.

Majima’s current worry about nutting then and there if Kiryu refused was put at bay with Kiryu simply nodding in argument. “Mm.”

“Oh fuck yeah. Let’s do this.” He wiggled out of Kiryu’s grasp, snakeskin shoes back on the ground, hands fumbling at Kiryu’s belt. “Shit, I’ve wanted to do this for over ten fucking years. Kept hoping last year you’d get the hint when you got out of prison, but yer as dense as a brick wall…”

Kiryu, whose hands seconds ago had been tugging on his hair, froze.

“Wait.. you want to do it here?”

“What? Worried about an audience? The fish know who feeds them. They’ll keep quiet” He let loose a manic cackle knowing Kiryu couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I mean, we need —"

“Yeh, I’m not a middle schooler Kiryu-chan!” Maijma snapped, still trying to pull off Kiryu’s belt, his hands shaking in excitement and an adrenaline rush, making what should have been an easy task so fucking infuriatingly hard.

“I know what we need, I don’t care. Spit on your dick a few times.” Majima had experienced worse and far more unwillingly, he could deal with it. Over ten fucking years, it would be worth it to have that kind of thrill. The best high he’d ever had.

Kiryu grabbing his wrists forcefully broke Majima out of his train of thought, and he instinctively jerked and thrashed against Kiryu.

Hands still fiercely gripping his wrists, Kiryu knelt down and looked him in the eye.

“Majima-san… I don’t want to hurt you”

That response froze Majima full stop. He looked at Kiryu with his one good eye in disbelief.

“You idiot. You put my head through a vending machine once”

That was enough to bring back the flustered awkward Kiryu-chan he knew. “That was...”

“Not into. THROUGH.”

“But this is…”

“And did you forget the fight we JUST had? Or is all the blood going down there now?” He gestured at Kiryu’s pants much to his obvious discomfort. He was clearly just as turned on as Majima was.

“That’s different.”

“No it aint Kiryu-chan. Fighting is the closest thing people can do to one another that don’t involve fucking. So ya’ gonna let go and let me fuck you or wha—“

A loud siren interrupted, causing Kiryu to pull away in confusion. Majima cursed in annoyance “Tch! This shit again? Some fools don’t know when to quit!”
___________

“Shitshitshit, you couldn’t stand to be a little gentler could ya’??” Majima squirmed around on the desk, jacket and now construction hat sadly off, as Kiryu worked a cotton swab covered in disinfectant over a variety of cuts and scrapes along his face and shoulders. He’d acquired them earlier as Majima and his men —and one very terrified Nishida— had rushed into action to yet again prevent an onslaught of the Kamurocho Hills construction sight.

“I’m almost done Majima-san” Kiryu gave him reassuring pat on the shoulder that wasn’t scraped to hell. “But it’s gonna sting no matter how gentle I-“

“Then just don’t disinfect it then!” Majima snapped, angrily slamming his hand against the large desk, the sheer force enough to send one of the colorful paper weights he had collected tumbling to the ground.

Kiryu gave one of those patronizing sighs Majima had become so used to hearing when he was around. “Majima-san…A construction site isn’t the most sanitary spot…”

“Whatever! I’ve had worse!” he took a gulp from his whiskey glass with his free hand and looked over at Kiryu whose face had gone from exasperated to amused.

“What? Mad Dog of Shimano isn’t allowed to whine? You can deal. Ya’ probably got lots of experience doing this with that little brat of yours”

“Her name is Haruka,” Kiryu said, his expression now changing to annoyance at Majima’s feigned arrogance at forgetting Haruka-chan’s name. Kiryu put the cotton swap down and took a sip from his own glass of whiskey and looked lost in thought. “But… before that even. Back at the orphanage… Nishiki and me were always getting into fights, and I…”

“Aw! Kiryu-chan had lots of experience playing nurse?” Majima quipped with a grin on his face.

Kiryu glared at him, clearly pissed Majima had the audacity to interrupt his reminiscing. Well boo-hoo, everyone had happier memories of their kyoudai they wished they could come back too. Kiryu sure as shit wasn’t special in that regard.

Majima grinned. “So tell me Kiryu-chan, you’re good at playing nurse, but how good are you at playing doct-” His inuendo was quickly interupted by a sharp sting from the antiseptic that Kiryu had harshly put on him making him flinch. He briefly remembered…

_______

“Kyoudai…Let me clean it or it’s gonna get infected” Saejima keeps telling him, his large hand gently cleaning the nasty wound on Majima’s chin, the other on Majima’s thigh, part reassurance, part holding him still as he fidgets and whines. His whole body hurts and Saejima ignores his insistence that he’ll be fine if he can get another bump and dotes on him like someone’s fucking mom after their little brat has come home after throwing down at the monkey bars.

“Oh. So you’re a doctor now?” Majima asks sarcastically.

“Hey. I’m CPR and first aid certified you know.”

Majima stops squirming for a moment and stares at Saejima in disbelief before cracking up only to be interrupted by a sharp jab of pain from if not broken ribs, fucking bruised to hell ones for sure. “Dick move to make your sworn brother laugh after he took a bowling ball to the ribs.”

Sajima puts down the rubbing alcohol and stands up, walking over to the fridge,

“I was. Back before….” he waves a hand at what Majima figures is to represent the symbolic present. “Anyway, when I wanted to be a teacher…. You gotta know CPR, first aid too.” He returns to Majima, ice pack in one hand, two beers in the other. He sets the beers down and gingerly unbuttons Majima’s shirt, pulling it open to reveal at the dark bruises that were forming. “Of course, now all I really do with that is patch up your dumb ass. Here, hold still.”

Majima sees him frown in concern. Good ole’ Saejima, always so worried about him. It was cheesy but Majima’s never known anyone who’d do that for him. Saejima and Yasuko are the only thing he’d ever had to a family and once he makes it big, he promises himself neither will ever want for anything ever again.

“Still can’t believe ya’ wanted to be a teacher! You! Teaching kanji to a bunch of ankle biters — shit that’s cold!” He gives an undignified yelp as Saejima takes hand in his and guides it to the ice pack. Those hands so freakishly strong. Strong when they were balled up into fists and shattering a man’s nose, strong when they picked up a bicycle and brought it down on three punks foolish enough to think they could jump him, strong enough to hold Majima upright as he railed him into next week ‘case Majima wanted to try it standing up and Saejima could never say no to him, but gentle enough that he patched Majima up for the who the fuck knew time, stitched up that gash on his forehead last week that wouldn’t stopped bleeding with Yasuko’s sewing kit, and brushed stray hairs out of his face as Majima came down from the meth Shimano had given him, shaking, irritable and just wanting to sleep. Majima remembers how he read that an elephant could knock down a tree with its trunk but could also pick up a potato chip without crushing it.
_______

Kiryu closed the first aid kit, took a sip of his own whiskey — Majima still regretted not keeping ice around on the off chance Kiryu had swung by — and sat down next to Majima on the desk. Majima knew that look in Kiryu’s face, the one where he got all goody-two shoes to say something important. Was he gonna cut and run? Figures. Over ten fuckin’ years he’d wanted the Dragon of Dojima and Majima was gonna end up with nothing but a sloppy make out session and rubbing his dick on Kiryu’s pants.

“Majima san… I understand you have feelings for me”

“‘Feelings for me’???” Majima barked out mockingly. “I didn’t realize I was a school girl getting her sempai a Valentine’s day gift, Kiryu-chan! I’m a busy man! I got heads to bash, buildings to… to build! Either go back to that hot cop of yours, or man-up already. I ain’t got all day”

Kiryu to his surprise looked flustered and not in that cute way, the other one where he felt he hadn’t gotten his point across. “That’s not what I meant. I…” he softly put his hand on Majima’s thigh and looked him square in his eye.

“Majima san. I want to know you. Intimately… BUT” he said that part quickly before Majima had a chance to scoff at Kiryu’s flowery language. “I thought maybe it could be a more ……personal place than a desk.”

Majima cackled “Ah I see. You want our first time to be special. What’s wrong Kiryu-chan? You don’t want to bend me over a desk?”

He expected more of an annoyed response, but all he got was that damned smirk Kiryu did that always made the blood rush right to his dick. “Well…. not right NOW Majima-san…”

The last time Majima had been bent over a desk, it hadn’t been on the best terms. Sagawa had said how disappointed he was in Majima’s lack of accommodations for him. How the next time he came to The Grand, he expected Majima’s full attention. Hands wrapped around that fucking ponytail the son of a bitch told him to keep that length — it had felt amazing to cut it off a few years later, like taking a shit after holding it in all day — that voice so mellow but dripping with a diluted venom that rose to the surface of every word he muttered into his flinching ear. “Do you understand Majima-chan?”.

Majima wondered what it would be like to have Kiryu shove him over a desk. Hands on his back to push him down. Kiryu’s own legs between his spreading him apart, holding him there.
Helpless. Powerless.

Sagawa had never used much force. He had crueler ways to keep Majima from pulling on his leash.

Majima thought about how Kiryu’s hands would dig into his hips as he came.

One step at a time.

“Yeah, ok, lover boy.”

Majima hopped off the desk. “Let’s go”

Kiryu blinked in confusion as he followed Majima to a side corridor, the two men tracing the aquarium stretching on words down the hall. “Are we... are we going to a hotel?”

Majima cackled as he led him deeper into the office until he came across a particular column. He tapped twice and a new door opened up.

“No numb nuts. What? Did you think the Florist took a cab home every night?”

He steered Kiryu into the new room that had appeared. Other words might have sprung up into the heads of people who entered it — gaudy, tacky, a “personal attack on interior design” — but Majima had loved it as soon as he moved in. It was spacious, bathed in the same blue light with gray columns and tiles. The fish tank led into the room as well, a view of it directly across from the large bed. Majima pointed at the fish. “We still got an audience though. Hope that’s your thing Kiryu-chan!”

Not giving Kiryu a chance to respond, Majima shoved him onto the bed, hands pulling at Kiryu’s shirt and jacket. He yelped in surprise as Kiryu flipped him over, shoving him back into the mattress. He held Majima down, kissing him again, stubble rubbing up and alongside his face. Kiryu’s hand dug into the shoulder that had been scrapped to hell and it sent a shooting jolt of pain down Majima’s body that made him even more turned on.

He thrashed under Kiryu as he took his sweet time, moving his hands down Majima’s body, felt hands — fucking finally — reach his belt and unbuckle it, Majima managed to wriggle out of Kiryu’s grasp to pull his pants down as Kiryu pulled off the rest of his clothes. He stared at Kiryu, his body looking like one of those statues you saw in Italy somewhere, his huge dick now fully erect. He gave a laugh. “goddamn Kiryu chan… what took us this long?”

Kiryu was back on him again, more kissing, more bites and nips and lips all up and down his neck, he felt Kiryu’s huge dick rub against his stomach, strong hands under his ass squeezing, Kiryu muttering in his ear, as if he’d traded in any knack at dirty talk for that huge dick of his.

“Majima san…. I want… let me put my penis in you…”.

“Well no shit. I take it you didn’t bring anything with you.”

There was a pause as Kiryu’s eyes looked down at him. Naive as fuck. “Bring?”

“I got some stuff in the draw over there.” Majima motioned with his head. Kiryu paused a second and moved over to the nightstand. He watched as Kiryu opened the top drawer, digging around in it for a minute to pull out a half empty bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

“I figured you’d come empty handed. You saving yourself for marriage Kiryu-chan?”

He’d expected that remark to give him that infamous furrowed brow he’d been getting oh-so familiar with this evening, but the look on Kiryu’s face looked more flustered than annoyed at his jabs.

“What? Been a while Kiryu-chan?”

“It’s not that…I’ve just…”

Majima expected many responses. Hadn’t had sex in years, had an STD, got into a bad brawl that left his dick not working the way it should. He’d never anticipated what came out of Kiryu’s mouth next.

“I’ve never had sex”

Majima blinked. “With a man?”

“With anyone”

________________

The girl at the club with the perm and the blue dress scoffs at him “What’s with the eyepatch, you correcting a lazy eye or something?”

“Naw.” Majima takes another sip from his drink and winks at her, (a lot harder to do with only one eye, funny how that worked.) “Whole eye is gone. Got stabbed out while looking for treasure island,” he laughs manically, a lovely cocktail of booze and blow running through him. He’s just met this girl, but she stands out in a crowd of other girls dressed to the 9’s. Maybe it’s her attitude, maybe it’s how he saw her dance. But he’d be the biggest moron alive if he didn’t approach her at the bar.

His references to Western novels go over her head and she rolls her eyes at his comment.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a book. About pirates.”

She’s smart, doesn’t look like she puts up with bullshit. Which is a good sign. She would have walked away the minute he came up to her if she wasn’t interested.

“So, you a writer or something then? ‘Cause you’re no salary man with those tattoos”.

“Hey. You don’t know that darlin’. I might wear a nice suit to work.” This gets a smirk out of her and it’s as cute as he thought it would be. He wants to drink it in like some pricy ass booze he’d have hawked to the richest, most gullible slob at The Grand.

“Yeah sure. You got a snake skin tie also?”

Oh, he likes her. She’s feisty. He bets if he put a hand on her now, she’d kick him in square in the dick. The thought makes him light headed, he hasn’t had an experienced girl ruin him in a while. Not like this girl would know what to do. She’s young, old enough to be at this club, but still young. Probably had a high school sweet heart she dumped when she went off to college.

“You bet! I put it on and carry my matching brief case to work every day!” Another smirk. It’s safe to lay on the compliments now. “You got some good moves out there. You a dancer?”
She takes his glass out of his hand and takes a sip and gives him the slyest smile he’d seen in a hot minute. “I’m an idol.”

This gets a laugh out of him. Hot, feisty and she has a sense of humor as well. “Ha! no shit! I used to be something of an idol myself back in the day!”

“Didn’t realize they had idols back in the Meiji era”

This sarcastic little jab gets a full-on cackle out of him. “Damn. You got a mouth on you babe. You got a name?”

“Mirei”

A little surprising that she tells him just her given name. He wonders if she has something to hide. Gaijin heritage probably; he’s been in the Yakuza long enough to know a few guys like that.

“Ok. So, tell you what Mirei-chan. Let’s have a dance off. Loser gets the other one a drink.”

She eyes him up and down for a minute. “Sounds good, mister, just don’t fall and break your hip out there”

She’s as good as he’d hoped, but Majima would be lying if he said he didn’t miss one or two of the beats and his lines were intentionally just a little bit off. Not that she isn’t good, but he isn’t scum to the point where he’d make a girl buy him a drink. He made her work for it though. That’s for sure.

And two glasses of soju later when they’re laughing and he’s able to put his hand on her shoulder while keeping his balls still intact, she has a real smile now. No more sly smirks, or a fabricated aloofness. A real amazing smile that makes him think of someone who he’s never gonna see again. Kicking that memory into the back of his mind, Majima plays his hand.

“So Mirei-chan. Here’s the deal. Either ya’ come home with me now, or… you give me your number and we go on a date next week?”.

Its corny as fuck, a line only a man with balls of steel could pull off without a girl like her laughing in his face. But the booze and blow have kept him assured and feeling good, and he can see it in her face. She’s like how he was ten years ago. Kept on a short leash, groomed, muzzled, with all that carnal desire to rip that collar off. She’s longing to break out of that cage and just scratch the surface of something taboo, something deviant. And Majima with his tattoos peaking from under his jacket, wild eye, and manic laugh are as deviant as she’s gonna find in this club. She smiles “You got a pen on you?”

They keep it simple on the first date. Karaoke, bowling, he takes her to the arcade and wins her a toy — some weird amphibian lizard thing — on the first try which impresses her. She looks she’s enjoying herself and tells him candidly over hot bowls of soba — she wanted takoyaki, he was able to convince her otherwise — “I’m surprised. Usually when old guys like you ask girls on dates, they go hand bag shopping.”

“Old guys like ME?” He feigns shock. “I’m not a dog sweetheart. You want a handbag, I’ll buy you a handbag, but this is all this is. I got no motive. We’re just two people on a date having a little fun. I got no intention of taking you to some hotel.” He winks at her, still not sure if she can tell he’s winking. “We’re just two idols getting to know each other a little better”

He keeps his word and doesn’t take her to a hotel on the first date.

The second date, he invites her straight to his crummy ass apartment and eats her out on his scuzzy-ass futon for what feels like hours.

He’s lighting up his second cigarette when he catches her eye wandering down to his pelvic region. He knows she sure as shit isn’t looking at his now flaccid dick.

“You don’t gotta worry about those, baby girl,” he says haphazardly pulling a blanket back over the scars that cover his thighs like some of the world’s most painful looking spider webs. Other girls in the past hadn’t asked, but they were working girls, hostesses. Even the occasional eager to please errand boy who’d approached him hadn’t brought it up. He forgets she’s just a regular old civilian, probably worst she’s seen on any past boyfriends was a paper cut.

He notices her gazing off in the distance.

“You ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He hated being rough with girls. With men it was different, but with a girl his brain always went back to Makoto and her gentle face. He and Mirei had gone at it a few times since he’d invited her over early in the evening. He’d waken up in the middle of the night from one of his darker nightmares with her in his arms and couldn’t help but get hard again as she sleepily rolled over and kissed him. He had a clock across the way near the tv, but he wasn’t sure what time it was now. Four or five maybe.

“Hm?” She snaps out of it and looks over him, face slightly red “I…I don’t think so...”

“Ya’ don’t think so?” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder “Baby it either hurts or it doesn’t.”

“I don’t know. I mean…I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like normally.”

He registers what she’s trying to tell him “What.”

For once her cool, sarcastic face, often full of a willfulness, looks flustered, like the girls back at Sunshine when Majima innocuously asked if they had boyfriends or whatever small-talk he’d bring up was just a little too personal.

“I don’t know. …you seemed like a cool guy, and I didn’t want you to freak out. The last guy I was with never wanted to do anything. He said if he took my virginity, I’d be obsessed with him.”

“And ARE you obsessed with me?”. He starts to give a cackle and realizes he might have run his mouth a bit too much, ‘cause she doesn’t respond and looks away. He sighs and scoots himself over to her and wraps an arm reassuringly around her shoulder.

“Hey look. Ya don’t gotta keep secrets from me ok? You’re a cool girl, Mirei-chan. You’re not some one-night thing. I wouldn’t have invited you over if I didn’t think otherwise. This doesn’t change anything. Ok?”

Her face relaxes and it reminds Majima of Yuki when she was so anxious and insecure, and he’d crack a joke and she’d smile at him. He wonders what she’s up to now. Probably married to some salary man with five fucking kids. He wonders for a moment about what she’d say if he showed up in Sotenbori out of the blue with his snake skin jacket and ponytail cut off. She’d probably act shocked for a minute then chew him out for up and vanishing on her and the girls. He wonders if she thinks he might be dead. The girls never said anything out-loud, but with the exception of Ai, who thought he lost his eye in a champagne corking accident gone horribly wrong, he knew they all suspected where he came from. Him falling off the face of the earth with not so much as a farewell letter probably confirmed their worst fears.

“Oh shit!”. His thoughts are broken by a suddenly frazzled Mirei who had suddenly noticed Majima’s digital clock in the corner reading 5:49 AM. She easily slips under his grip and scurries off the futon, franticly gathering and putting on her clothes like it’s a mad relay race. “I got rehearsal in an hour! I can’t be late. Ogawa-san locks the door once class starts!”

“Wait what? Rehearsal? You a dancer or something?”

She quickly franticly buttons up her blouse over that nice lacy bra he took way too much joy in pulling down with his teeth the last night and turns her head over to him “I told you! I’m an idol!”

“Wait…I thought you were joking!”

“No! I—" she tucks her blouse into her skirt and heads to the door, trying to put on her coat and slips back into her shoes simultaneously. “You’re a cool guy Majima-san. But I started as an idol later than a lot of the girls. I’m already 18 and I really can’t mess up my career by being late.” She grabs her hand-bag and steps out the door, she turns to him. Her face slightly flushed.

“Um…. I want to see you again!”

“Yeh yeh, I’ll call you baby- wait. You’re 18???”

The door slammed shut.

A few years later when he divorces her, he says many things. That she’s putting her idol career over her family. That she kept a secret from him when he told her she never needed to keep secrets from him. That she’s never around and she’s grown cold and she comes home at 2 am with her fucking shows and rehearsals and they’ve been living off of take-out and conbini food for a fucking year cause she sure as shit isn’t cooking, and he can’t remember the last fucking time she sucked him off.

But he knows he’s leaving ‘cause he hit her. He knows if he apologized, told her he wanted to make this work, she’d forgive him. She’d blame herself for being selfish, say they could try for a kid again, this time she’d keep it. That her career wasn’t as important as he was, as having a family was.

But he thinks about the first time he was inside her and how she was so tight, and her body was so tense, but the look on her face was full of pleasure and joy and how even fucking her he’d thought of Makoto’s face and how couldn’t ever bring himself to hurt Mirei. But there she’d been, a few years later, holding her cheek where he’d struck her. That look of fear in her eyes that he’d raised a hand to her, but also shame, as if it had been somehow her fucking fault he’d lost control, that he’d slipped too far into his Mad Dog Persona that he’d slapped her — his own fucking, beautiful, driven, talented, DEFENSELESS wife — and he sees a look in her face that he’d never seen her make before and it reminds him of how he’d looked at Sagawa, and it makes the bile rise up to the back of his throat.

Mirei doesn’t know about Sagawa, or Shimano, or his time in the hole. The faceless men down there who rotated in and out, with their sadistic streaks and penchant for cruelty being the only consistency. She dosn’t know the nightmare he keeps having about the one specific man who, after beating him with a cane so hard that streaks of blood ran down his ass and he’d pissed himself in pain, grabbed him by the hair, pulling his face up, and suggested they fuck his eye socket.

Night after night, he’d held Mirei so tight in his arms as they lay together in the dark and kisses her all over her body and told her how much he loved her, but he’s never taken off his eye patch in front of her and any inquiries about his scars he clearly didn’t get from fights are deflected with jokes or a change of subject.

He said she didn’t have to keep secrets from him, but he sure as shit kept them from her. But he doesn’t tell her any of this. He just tells her she’s clearly more interested in putting her career above him and has the courier send her the divorce papers to sign and never sees her again.

_____________

“Kiryu-chan. YOU? How?” This had to be a joke. All those years of him trying to get the one-up on Kiryu finally came back to bite him in the ass. The man was hung like a horse, his abs glistening like one of those dirty ass bara comics. Kiryu had to be fucking with him.

“I was in jail for ten years”

“Exactly!”

Kiryu looked away, flustered.

“…it’s… it’s not what you think it’s like”

“But before that…”

“I was busy.”

This made no sense. He was Kiryu. The fucking Dragon of Dojima. How could this man have not had sex? He SAW how that lady cop had looked at him.

“Something had to have…”

“There were girls, it just… it wasn’t a priority”

He had SEEN how all those hostesses had looked at him before Goromi had crudely interrupted them.

“And now???”

“I have Haruka”

Majima meant to take a deep breath and count to ten, but instead he just let it out in a loud aggravated sigh.

Kiryu wasn’t Mirei. Hell, as much as he tried to tell himself otherwise, Kiryu wasn’t even Saejima. His Kyoudai had been a quiet man who was the polar opposite of him when it came to over sharing, but that first night they laid together, Majima knew he couldn’t having been too experienced...

Various plans of action rushed through his head and he thought about telling Kiryu to leave. Saejima was rotting away in prison, and whatever Mirei was doing she sure as shit wasn’t an idol anymore. Majima couldn’t keep doing this. He should just do the right thing and have Kiryu go back to that cop who would probably sit on his face for a bit even if she didn’t go all the way with his ass. His impulsiveness got the better of him though. He thought about how much of an investment he’d put into Kiryu chan. Who the hell was he to deny a man getting laid because life threw too much shit in his face?

Mentally shoving all those thoughts away, Majima gave a cackle and clapped his hands together in delight. “Ok! Why the hell not! I’m gonna pop your cherry Kiyru-chan”

“Say that again, I’m leaving”

“Ok! Ok!” he held up his hands in surrender, then a thought crossed his mind “You um... you know how to do this right?”

He his question was met by Kiryu pushing him back down on the bed, callused hands spreading his legs open. Kiryu’s weight on him felt suffocating, yet oddly soothing, he tried not to think of Saejima as Kiryu’s stubble brushed up against him and that hand that had parted his thighs now found his dick and had started gently stroke him. “I think I can manage…”

Kiryu sure as shit wasn’t skilled or suave, but he was assertive, firm as he held Majima in place and slowly — much, much slower than Majima would have hoped — worked a finger into him. Majima couldn’t help but wonder what a more experienced Kiryu would do. He thought about Kiryu forcing him to his knees, grabbing his hair and shoving his dick into his mouth until he drooled and choked. His thoughts were interrupted by Kiryu pausing for a moment.

“Are you…clean?”

Bold of Kiryu to shove two fingers up his ass, then ask that question.

“Of course. You invite someone into your house, you gotta make sure it’s clean first!”

Kiryu’s face turned red to the point where Majima worried he’d taken his joke too far and Kiryu was gonna loose that amazing hard-on he’d gotten.

“That…That’s not what I meant”

“Yeh yeh. I’m fucking with you. It’s fine, Kiryu-chan. That’s what condoms are for”. Now he regretted leaving that hard hat back on the desk in the Florist’s Lobby. He could have kept that thing on to mess with him even more, Safety First, Kiryu-chan!

Both of them were hard now and Majima had gotten impatient with Kiryu’s deep kisses and fingers working in and out of him. He pulled away to flip over on his stomach, only to be forcefully grabbed by Kiryu and pushed onto his back.

“I want to see your face when I fuck you, Majima-san”

Majima hadn’t expected Kiryu to be some blushing virgin, but the way Kiryu said it with such a firmness, made him almost nut on the spot.

He was glad Kiryu was a virgin, a more experienced man with a dick that large might have taken his time easing it in, but Kiryu pushed in fast and the moment of intense pain followed by what Majima could only describe as a release of over 10 fucking years of needing Kiryu’s dick inside him was almost worth the wait. He drank it in. Kiryu’s face, so intense, so firm. Inside him, those arms holding him down, fingers digging into the sides of his ass. Majima hoped it left bruises.

“Shit shit shit… Kiryu…that’s it. Fuck me harder...” He was losing all of his composure now, just a sweating mess for Kiryu to fuck, his thoughts now just a wailing, moaning shamble of want and senses. Felt Kiryu inside him, heard himself crying out every-time he trusted. He wanted to Kiryu to wreck him. Leave him a shaking come filled ruin. He needed it. And here was Kiryu Kazuma. Giving it to him.

He heard Kiryu whisper in his ear. “I…I think I’m gonna come…”

A thought crossed his mind. “Kiryu-chan... Pull out.”

“What”

“I want you to come on my asshole.”

It was a fucking miracle Kiryu obliged, but he did, pulling out and tossing his condom to the side as Majima rolled onto all fours. Hands spreading apart his ass cheeks to reveal his swollen red hole. How ridiculous he must look, the Mad Dog of Shimano, ass up in the air like a dog in heat. Humiliated, vulnerable, exposed. And only Kiryu had the right to see that.

Majima felt Kiryu grab his ass again with his free hand, heard him frantically pumping with his other. Kiryu let out a gasp as he came in bursts. Majima felt splashes of come hit his asshole and cheeks, spilling slickly down his thighs.

That was enough to send Majima over the edge, he grabbed his own dick and started pumping frantically. Kiryu, still breathing heavily put his hand on the small of his back and muttered into his ear “Come for me….”

It was corny, probably heard it from some porn he’d rented, but it was enough and Majima’s whole body shuttered as he came into his own hand, drops of it leaking out and onto the bed sheets as Kiryu gently stroked his back. “That’s it…”

Majima flopped on his stomach, wiping his hands on the bed sheet and, after a moment to get his equilibrium back, reached off the bed trying to find his cigarettes and lighter that were still in his leather pants he’d worked his way out of it earlier. He looked over at Kiryu who was on his back, staring at the ceiling with a look he’d seen on Mirei that first night he’d brought her home. He brushed it off and lit the cigarette he’d put in his mouth. “Damn…haven’t been fucked like that in a while… you really oughta come down to Purgatory more often if this is how you fuck.”

Kiryu, eyes still in that dazed look said nothing and took a cigarette from the pack that Majima offered and they smoked in silence. Majima’s saw his eyes go down his elaborate tattoo that went down his back, past his buttocks and ending high on this thighs. That was right, Kiryu probably hadn’t seen it in all it’s glory before — unless you ignored the time Majima ambushed him in the only Yakuza friendly bathhouse in Kamurocho.

They finished their cigarettes and as Majima attempted to reach for his pack again, he paused when he felt Kiryu idily ran one of his fingers along one of the scars that appeared on his untouched skin then vanished up into his dark ink. The soft touch caught Majima’s attention as he turned his head to the right and glance down in annoyance. “That was a long time ago, Kiryu-chan,” he said dismissively “You don’t gotta worry about those.” Majima rolled over onto his back, trying to discourage Kiryu’s wandering fingers, but once on his back, the scars wrapped around the front of his thighs, stopping dangerously close to his genitals.

Majima kicked himself for being a damned fool to think an act like that would dissuade someone as head strong as Kiryu Kazuma, and sure enough there was Kiryu, now straddling him, pulling himself back slightly and taking Majima’s thighs in his hands, forcibly pulling his legs apart.

“Come on Kiryu-chan” Majima whined in protest, “I’m down for a blow job, but I just shot my load here, give me a minute—"

Kiryu kissed the scars inside Majima’s legs, gently, almost chaste, far softer than the angry forceful kisses Majima had been exchanging earlier in the evening with him.

This was humiliating and not in the degrading controlling way Majima had hoped for all those years. He continued to protest, writhing around against Kiryu’s tight grip, swatting and pushing at him with his hand. “Ya’ deaf now from coming so hard? Knock it off.”

But Kiryu, barely looking up, caught one of Majima’s hand, and forcefully, pinned it down against his side. He held it there as he used his free hand to hold Majima’s thighs apart and continued to gently kiss them.

Majima kept expecting Kiryu to ask something. Where they’d come from, how long they’d been there. But Kiryu said nothing, like he just knew they were something from a different time, where those scars were the only physical remnant of a time in his life he’d locked up and tossed into an incinerator leaving nothing but ash.

He thought about trying to strike Kiryu again with his free hand to get him off, but he just couldn’t muster the energy and instead just covered his face, with his arm, cheeks flushed.

Intimacy was something he had forgotten a life time ago.

“You’re a sap ya’ know that?” he muttered “You hoping I’ll cry and tell ya’ my tragic backstory now?”

His sarcastic response got a him a nip from Kiryu between his thighs that made him squirm again under Kiryu’s grasp. Kiryu pulled himself up to Majima and kissed him deeply before pulling away and remarking, “I’d never trick you like that, Majima-san.”

For a second, he thought of Saejima, the sake they’d drank together, the vows they took. The vows they repeated that night as they sat together in bed that night. Majima had rested on top of him and told him he would sooner loose an eye than ever betray Saejima — how ironic he’d said those exact words to him.

He thought of Mirei, the huge smile on her face as Majima gave her that pen. She never cried, but he remembered her trying to hold back tears of joy. She’d never had a family; such a kind gift had over whelmed her in a way he’d never expected. It made him feel like he’d done the right thing by marrying her.

They were both long gone. No point in bringing up the past.

Majima scoffed and shook his head. “You’re a good lay, but a horrible fuck buddy, Kiryu-chan.”