Archive of Our Own

Smooth lips pressed against his neck, firm grip around his waist, the weight and want of another ground against his thigh. Majima sighed into the feeling; desire crossed to the spiked threshold of need. Bucking his hips up into the touch, focused only on the promise of pleasure. Thick veined hands pushing apart his legs, so tantalisingly close. He could feel his brain form the words he was never meant to say, to plead, to beg. A strong grip around his hips and he moaned, unintentional.  

Majima woke and it was painful, so hard he hurt. He whined and felt pathetic for it. He could feel himself leaking across his abdomen and set his jaw tight. Self-pleasure wasn’t enough, he needed to take someone under him, his lewd dreams of laying back and being at someone else’s mercy was a sure sign. Demons like him didn’t dream of seduction and softness.  

Most don’t only take men either.  

He shifted the back of his hand over his forehead, noting his nails had sharpened in his arousal. He was still hard, he had the rough thought of digging his nails down into his thigh to stifle himself, but then pain never abated his need.  

The yakuza life worked well for his indulgences (always his indulgences, never his urges). Sex with a price tag was always on the table, but that was nothing on hunting out the men who wanted what he could offer them. Not the green types who saw sex as a way to get ahead, but the ones who welcomed the touch of another man, fastidiously discreet and to Majima’s preference, unashamed. Tales of demons in the beds of unsuspecting lovers, taking their pleasure while the human slept was, all in all, a far cry from the reality - half the pleasure for an incubus was in the seduction. Such rumours seemed to starkly underline the puritanical way humans had often viewed sex throughout history. Something base, to be whispered about in drunken double entendres. Endlessly boring and needlessly prude to his kind. Although sometimes he thought it was less shame and more possessiveness, a demon unwanted in your bed of night was easier for others to digest than the truth of a demon you begged for night after night of course, but neither humans nor demons were immune to the allure of admiration.  

This was a problem in itself, an incubus to bind themselves to a human was more than improper, it was vulgar. Another archaic directive, an it-is-what-is-is. Humans filled a need; incubi took that to their advantage. Although Majima had never taken much stock in any sort of propriety of the supernatural, he understood the basis of why those laws should be abided to: lifespan, humanity's general distaste for the demonic, and, from what he understood, sex. Demons needed to take lovers, denying such needs made them aggressive, depressed, physically pained. He felt another throb of his aching cock and snarled against the back of his hand. He growled low, scratched stubbornly down his abdomen before taking himself in hand. This was weeks now of waking feeling desperate, he snarled again, flashing his fangs to nobody, long and ready to bite down into a lover. He was too sensitive, coming quickly. It was disappointing. He thrust his hips up against nothing and whined, he heard the mattress rip against his nails, felt himself still hard in spite of his release. He raked fingers through his hair, he could argue his body alone chose for him all he liked, but he needed the touch of someone specifically, he needed it, and he hated it. 

Another thug crumpled against the force of Majima’s fist. It was all over too quickly, he kicked the side of a fallen punk, still agitated. Unthinking he raised his tantō and licked the blunt edge clean of blood. He heard a shocked murmur from his men behind him, he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.  

‘Y’know I love a good fight boys but I don’t hire yer to stand lookin’ fuckin’ pretty.’ He turned to look at his men, there was a second delay between his turning and the chorus of ‘yes boss!’ before his boys near toppled over one another in an effort to leave the narrow alleyway. Majima growled to himself, the stunt with the tantō was a slip. He could convince himself it was good for his recruits to see that side of him, to stoke the fires of the ‘Mad Dog’ rumours, but there was a limit. There had to be control. The thug at his feet groaned, coming back around, Majima gave him another swift kick before exiting the alley.  

As he rounded the corner onto Pink Street he tried to sift through his thoughts - he was off, overwrought. The last few nights he had taken to going out drinking with his men, off out into the night until sunrise and his only remaining companion had succumbed to the last dregs of a whiskey bottle. He would collapse into bed, thoughts fuzzed and muddy, hoping for a dreamless sleep. Only to awaken mere hours later, both his head and dick aching. He was pulled from his thoughts when his eye caught a hint of red and grey at the top of Pink Street. He felt his face split into a grin and his breathing quicken. He broke into a run, quiet on his feet, slipped around and through the crowd, his eye never faltering from his prey. He evened out his breathing, took a few quick steps forward. 

'Kiryu-chan.’ he practically purred.  

Kiryu jolted, spinning around to face him. 

‘Niisan?!’ His tone was shocked, his gaze locked on Majima’s eye. Majima stepped forward, lurching into his space. He wasn’t in the mood for preamble. 

With a wild cry, he unsheathed his tantō once again and lunged. Kiryu sidestepped him quickly, his dagger slicing through thick Kamurocho air. Majima bared his teeth and attacked again, Kiryu dodged him effortlessly each time with ease. His thoughts were clouded, he wanted to push his blade up and through Kiryu, knock him down, straddle his hips- 

The blow to the side of his head sent him reeling. He instinctively moved a gloved palm against the sting. 

‘Niisan?’

Majima heard the uncertainty in Kiryu’s voice, plaintive and painful to his ears. He let him get close before driving his elbow into Kiryu’s stomach, hard. It was a dirty trick, he would chastise himself later, for now, he needed to win. Kiryu almost buckled, steadying himself against the brickwork of the adjacent bar, his palm no doubt grazed from the effort, anger flared in his expression and Majima laughed. Kiryu couldn’t help but see him, couldn’t help but have all his thoughts condense down into this show of strength between them, he felt giddy, stupid. Kiryu grabbed the lapels of his jacket and headbutted him squarely across the face. A noise repeated inside and around Majima’s thoughts, he realised it was the staccato of his own laughter and doubled over, near hysterical.  

Kiryu had grabbed each of his shoulders and was taking in his expression, his own unreadable. 

‘Niisan, what’s going on?’ 

‘More like what could be going on.’ The words fell treacle thick from Majima’s tongue. 

Kiryu’s mouth formed a thin line, he pulled Majima to his feet harshly. ‘It’s 11 am.’ He seemed to speak more to himself than Majima, suddenly his grip was harsh again on Majima’s shoulder, ‘have you taken something?’ 

Majima erupted into chopped laughter again, somewhere in his brain the thought tugged, this wasn’t acting anymore, you need to take control.  

‘Haw? What’s my Kiryu-chan impyin’? I’m a man of principle. I don’t sample from my own supply lines.’ 

Kiryu made a face, something akin to disappointment. Majima grinned wider. Kiryu looked him over, really looked at him. 

‘Niisan, your eye.'

That he hadn’t expected, Majima bit back on the desire to cover it. Felt his pulse quicken and blood coarse.  

Control. It.  

He breathed out, looked down, reassembled his face into a smile, looked up at Kiryu. 

‘Might be a shock, Kiryu-chan, but there’s been just the one for a while now.’ He stepped forward, patted Kiryu’s shoulder as one would an infant. ‘Always good to see ya, Kiryu-chan'. 

He was away and down Pink Alley before he heard a response, weaving through the labyrinthine streets that he could map out with his one eye closed.  

He could feel his nails sharp against the leather of his gloves. He slipped down a manhole with every intention of making a shortcut back to his Kamurocho Hills apartment. He slid down the ladder and felt a fang nick his lower lip, he wouldn’t make it. He hurried past the homeless camp and down a disused tunnel, he made it his priority to know every place to hide in this grimy speck of city after all. Once he was what he deemed a safe distance away he hurriedly pulled one glove off and unbuttoned his trousers, slick from exertion. He bit against the arm of his jacket to stifle his moaning, already so overcome with need, before taking himself in hand and stroking harshly. His breathing was already shaky, he sighed at the feeling of release from the coiled pressure. He used his imagination, entering someone from behind, heady on the thought of his fantasy lover crying out from the thickness of his cock. He would be rough, he would take what he needed, he felt his fangs biting through the snakeskin against his arm.  

He imagined how he would pull their hair to bring their head up and back, how they would reach back in an attempt to push him inside further, how they would gasp and moan- 

‘Niisan.' 

The thought almost pushed him over the edge, he was too far gone to fight it, the seductive promise of his first satisfying orgasm in months was too much to bear. The scene in his mind shifted, no longer an anonymous setting fuck, but him laying back on his bed, drawn-out cries of pleasure from above him as he watched Kiryu sink down onto him over and over, imagined his nails digging possessively into the soft skin of his hips. The thought of Kiryu using him for his own satisfaction was too much, he bit down hard and came, cherishing those few seconds of bliss before it was over too early, again. He looked at the splash of cum across the grimy floor, he felt shame, Majima didn’t allow himself to feel shame.  

He was outside his apartment fiddling through his set of keys, he tutted in annoyance with himself. You know the keys for your own apartment for fucks sake. He found the key with more effort than he’d have liked and let himself in. His first thought was to go straight back to bed, but the guilty thoughts of his dreams punctured through his chest, the unease from the sewers clung to him worse than the stench. He shuffled into his bathroom, pulling on the cord light. He stared back at his reflection and felt shock, sharp and short. The deep brown of his eye was not what stared back at him. Instead, his eye glittered back like black obsidian, with spiked shafts of red around the iris.  

Niisan. Your eye.  

He snarled and raised his fist to the mirror before pulling himself back. He slumped onto the floor, back against the cold porcelain of the bath. He knew what this meant, when a demon’s powers began to present and slip outside their control, they needed to grab hold of the reins again. He needed to take a lover; he was letting himself pass into dangerous territory.  

You aren’t taking anybody.  

Majima raked his nails into his hair, almost claws now.  

Sex is easily obtained, so why aren’t you taking somebody?  

Majima snarled. So easy to run from everything except the truth of yourself. 

The thought of having anyone else but him makes you sick.  

Majima stood; he punched straight through the reflection smirking back at him. 

Majima hadn’t seen sunlight in days. He had text Nishida to look over the basics in his absence, he kept the details sparse. If Nishida had any suspicion that his patriarch was a demon then he certainly acted like it was part and parcel of his position. Majima lay in bed, stripped down to his underwear, his skin felt entirely too tight. He tried absently to take a photo of his eye from the back of his flip phone, threw it across the room after the third blurred attempt. He pushed off the bed with a low growl, moving thickly to the bathroom. The remnants of the mirror confirmed his fear, the black of his eye was slowly fanning out against the white, as though a vial of ink had been spilt there and the red strands in his iris were thicker. He pushed two fingers up against his lip, his fangs were long, not just around the incisors but jutting out around the back too, made all the more obvious by the pale discolouration around his gums. He licked over his top row of teeth, the shape unfamiliar in his mouth. He steadied himself on the sink. Staring down at the odd little reflections of himself the glass of the mirror at the bottom of the sink distorted back at him. The air around him still too cloying, too close. He heard the screech of a chair being pulled out in an apartment far below his own, the flat-toned intrusion of a cordless phone rang above him, the canned laughter of a gameshow from somewhere else, he couldn’t pinpoint the source anymore as each sound looped round his head. The noise got louder, as though it had slipped under his doorframe to press right up against his ear. The squeal of claws dragging against ceramic brought him back. He was white-knuckled, the lip of the sink scarred, he moved his hands away slowly.  

He moved from the bathroom to the living room, flopped into a chair heavily. His head was spinning, all his thoughts clamoured for the main stage of his mind. That Kiryu had seen him like this, he closed his eyes to will the stacked thoughts away. He had teased himself with the thought of Kiryu, thought of the strong grip on his shoulders days earlier and squirmed under thoughts of phantom touch. He scrubbed a hand over his face, willing to separate the thoughts like scattered atoms. He knew he was exceptional at reading others, he liked to think it was more than just his demonic instincts. He had manufactured one plan after another in his attempts to seduce Kiryu. Had seen the soft glint of affection in the way he would look at him when he was at his most eccentric and had tried to capitalise on it. Goading for fights, embroiled in his silly children’s car games like he didn’t love watching the joy bloom across Kiryu’s face when they would race. His attempts had gone unreciprocated, usually, he would back off from the chase here, but the thought of having Kiryu was intoxicating. A small voice wheedled in his brain that it was more than lust and infatuation that he promptly let fizzle into the background of the cacophony of thoughts. Kiryu was a direct man, so he took a more straightforward route, luring him to a club for a striptease, or to play hostess. He swallowed hard against the jagged feeling that rose up in his throat when he thought of how Kiryu had simply accepted Goromi, he expected the worst, a fistfight over the Club Shine table, not gentle conversation about her, about him. It was never enough to cross that proverbial little line, this had led to him doubling down on his ambushes, he would assuage the guilt of following him if there was the excuse of a fight.  

Anything for his hands on you. Majima was up and back to the bathroom sink, staring down again at the warped little parts of himself. He saw his eye staring back in one long shard, Kiryu wasn’t going to come to him, he wasn’t going to come to any man for what Majima craved. He looked back at himself in the glass fragment, entirely unflinching, forced himself to look on as he felt the cold pain of the truth flush through him. Enough is enough.  

The noise of the club was different, the bass thrummed against his chest in a way that was pleasant, like an invisible figure looping around him, steadily advancing in. The sunglasses he wore dimmed the harsh lights that would have undoubtedly been painful in his state. On a more practical level, they covered his eye, now probably blown out to the edges with black, and they worked for the look he was going for; Mysterious man sipping a neat whiskey alone at the bar of the gay club. He shifted his gaze across the dancefloor beside him once again, his eye roved quickly between men, he knew what he was hunting for. Someone tall and muscular, who would be stupid enough to be enamoured by his irezumi when he took them to bed, and clever enough to know not to tell anyone of the yakuza who knew exactly how to touch another man.  

He signalled for another to the bartender, fussed around the stiffness of his black shirt collar, if shirts felt all too much usually the intensity was doubled now. The rough of the fabric on his skin was enough of a distraction that he noticed the sensation of being watched far later than he would have usually picked up on. He snapped his eyes shut, tried to pick up the scent of them between the sweat and tobacco.  

There. Bitter, not a threat, curious. He kept his gaze down on the whiskey before him, for all the seduction of incubi, Majima would never turn down the compliment of being approached. He heard the slow steps towards him above the pound of the music, all his senses heightened now.  

‘Hey, can I buy you a drink?’ 

Majima closed his eye, counted up to five, obstinately ignored his disappointment. He pulled his lips into a smile and turned. 

‘Thanks for the offer’ (his accent flattened out for anonymity) ‘I’ve just got myself one though.’ He appraised the man before him, conventionally attractive, strong jaw, thick muscles. He could do . ‘How about a dance though?’ he added quickly.  

An hour later and his companion had been rutting against him on the dancefloor, he had whispered the suggestion of going back to a hotel and Majima had acquiesced. He usually enjoyed much more chase; he wasn't usually half maddened by desire that made him ill either.  

They reach the outside of the hotel and his impromptu partner makes an act both brave and stupid (Majima knows he can always peg the type) he pushes him against the wall at the side of the building and attempts to claim Majima’s mouth with his own. Majima allows the exploration, curious himself, the stranger's lips are soft, the shape inviting. Majima feels the intrusion of his tongue against his mouth and he pulls away.  

‘I’m...sorry.’ Majima is away and along an alleyway before his companion can feel the loss of his heat in his arms.  

Majima wakes the next day as he has for the last few weeks, pain in his head and ache in his dick. The thoughts of the night before flood back too quickly, ignoring his erection has never felt easier as guilt gnaws itself along the neat lines of where he compartmentalises his thoughts. He draws the duvet over him. Enough is enough. 

17 missed calls – Nishida  

4 new text messages – Nishida  

2 new voicemails – Nishida  

23 missed calls – Nishida  

Boss. Is everything ok?  

Hit enter to reply  

You have 7 new voicemails. From. Nishida. To return the call press. 1  

The intercom cut straight through his sleep, Majima rolled and woke with a groan. He looked down to wet and messy sheets, his body acting on his needs when his mind could not. His room was entirely dark, he had no estimate of the time nor desire to know it. He hauled himself from the bed, deciding to ignore the intercom and shower, he would get back to Nishida, just not yet. He stood in the shower and enjoyed the heat of the water against him, ran a hand through his hair and winced when he felt it a few millimetres too long for his usual liking, the fuzz of his buzzcut slightly too fluffed. He spent minutes just standing and feeling the water flow over him, he exited and immediately missed the caress of the water. He dried himself off, looping the towel around his waist. He padded to the kitchen, knowing he should eat something. He pulled a Poppo sandwich from the back of the fridge, two days out of date, he shrugged and peeled it open. Stood eating one half staring out at nothing, as he started the next side he remembered his mother firmly telling him never to eat standing up, memories of her were few and thin, he found himself walking back to the living room to collapse into the chair before he could register it. He was halfway into his third bite, thoughts sludge and slow, when he noticed a sound. He frowned, trying to let the words take shape in his mind. Realisation hit and he choked. 

‘Niisan??’ 

Majima spluttered into a fit of coughing, Kiryu stood before him helplessly for a few agonising seconds before lurching forward and smacking his back. Majima took a strangled breath as the bread dislodged in his throat. 

‘Kiryu-chan, what the fuck?’  

Kiryu stumbled back awkwardly, ‘...You were choking.’ 

‘I don’t mean that for fucks sakes,’ he gasped another lungful of air, ‘I mean why are you just creeping around my apartment!’ 

Kiryu frowned, seemed to think over what to say, was he embarrassed?  

‘Nishida called me, he said he couldn’t contact you; I did try to call the intercom but you didn’t answer so I... used the key Nishida gave me.’ he said the last part so quietly it took Majima a few seconds to digest what he had said.  

Majima scrubbed both hands through his hair and over his face, ‘fucking Nishida.’ 

‘He called me because he was worried about you.’ 

Majima kept his head in his hands, trying unsuccessfully to calm his anger by imagining the many ways he could exact punishment on his captain in the near future.  

He heard the squeak of leather as Kiryu sat down on the couch opposite. There was an uncomfortable silence, Majima still didn’t look up, Kiryu had decided to come here, to intrude on his space, if he felt awkward then so be it. He could hear the tick of his neighbour's clock, he focused on the sound and tried to think only of the act of breathing. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.  

‘I’m worried about you.’ 

Tick...  

Majima was up and pacing to his bedroom. 

‘Niisan, wait!’ 

He heard Kiryu move to follow him, but Majima was quick, he moved to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Leant his head against the wood, the smell of paint immediately made him nauseous but he didn’t move. 

‘Majima.’ Kiryu’s voice was so quiet, he heard Kiryu press his palm softly against the wood on the other side, the sound imperceptible to human ears. He moved his hand to press against the point he knew Kiryu’s was from his side.  

‘I need to be alone, Kiryu-chan.’ 

He sensed Kiryu press his forehead to the door, felt his heart thrum in his chest, he felt pathetic, but he would let himself have this. Pressed up against the barrier of oak between them, he could smell Kiryu now over the paint, earthy, calming. All his need seemed to refract and disperse in that moment, blinding little lights that soared out and reached into the recesses he had firmly closed years earlier. Charred remnants of feelings he had boarded up, loss that would sit square on his chest of a night, a dead weight, a reminder. He curled his fingers inwards and felt his nails scrape across the wood.  

‘Niisan.’  

Majima stepped back from the door, immediately aching for Kiryu’s scent again. He watched as the handle was slowly lowered, his breathing was ragged, he felt light and unanchored. You want to devour him.  

The door was opened in silently, they both stood, Kiryu still outside of the room. Majima’s single black eye entirely unmoving, waiting, needing permission. Kiryu gazed back at him, he saw him completely. Wordlessly, Kiryu crossed the threshold. Majima moved to him, gave him one last searching gaze, looking for hesitation. He moved a hand to Kiryu’s cheek, made sure to gently brush the sharpness of his nails along his jaw and then Kiryu’s lips were on his. Majima gasped and Kiryu slipped his tongue inside, hands over Majima’s naked chest. Majima kissed him back desperately, harshly pushing his suit jacket from his shoulders. Kiryu backed him towards the bed and Majima pulled him down, moving to lace kisses down his neck and collarbone as he struggled to unbutton Kiryu’s shirt with his long nails. Kiryu reached up, pulling his shirt off in one fluid motion, Majima heard buttons spinning against the hardwood floor. He pulled him down again, demanding Kiryu’s mouth against his. Majima ran his nails down the expanse of Kiryu’s back, saw the dragon marked in his mind’s eye, Kiryu moaned into the kiss and slipped a hand to Majima’s waist, fumbling with the knotted towel. 

Majima grabbed Kiryu’s wrists and pulled them up into a sitting position with ease, he heard Kiryu gasp at his show of strength. He smirked against the side of his neck; wrists still held tight at Kiryu’s sides.  

‘Take these off, I want yer undressed.’ 

Kiryu was immediately loosening his belt buckle and sliding from his trousers and underwear without hesitation as Majima loosened his towel and let it drop to the floor beside his bed. They met in the middle, both on their knees with arms wrapped around one another and hands searching. Their kisses were rough, both testing against the other, Majima felt Kiryu’s cock loosely slide against his and they both moaned against each other’s lips. Majima slid his hand down Kiryu’s abs and gave a few short strokes to his cock. Kiryu broke from their kiss, panting against his neck. Majima took his opportunity, grabbing Kiryu by the shoulders and wrestling him down and onto his back. 

‘Been thinkin’ of ya for so long.’ he paused to press a kiss against Kiryu’s temple, ‘I’ve needed ya’. Majima claimed his mouth again, breaking apart to whisper against his ear, ‘wanna taste ya, can I?’ Kiryu let out a shaky breath. 

‘I want you to do more than just taste me.’ 

Kiryu’s words almost broke him. He began slowly licking down across his chest, taking time to tease and lick at a nipple, drunk on the soft little sighs of pleasure that fell from Kiryu’s lips. Majima pointedly let his teeth extend out again (silently pleased at how he had regained some control now his body had felt the promise of sex) grazing his incisor down Kiryu’s stomach, he heard Kiryu hiss above him, felt his cock strain against Majima’s hip. Majima ran a palm up his thigh, pushed it up and over his shoulder, he leant forward and slowly, slowly licked up the underside of Kiryu’s cock from base to tip. He kept his eye on Kiryu who was panting, staring back, rather than take his cock into his mouth Majima repeated his action, again, and again. Kiryu whined in frustration. Majima hummed, he wanted to tease more of those whimpers from Kiryu, but the heavy ache of his own cock betrayed him. He took Kiryu into his mouth fully and moved, still torturously slowly, he kept eye contact as he repeated the motion, Kiryu’s mouth had dropped open, letting out quick little pants of pleasure. Majima clawed down his thighs as he swallowed him down, taking him easier now, learning the shape of the underside of his cock with his tongue on every other stroke. 

‘Niisan.’ Kiryu’s voice came out cracked and rough, ‘I need more.’ 

Majima moved off his cock, desire wringing low in his gut.  

‘Tell me what ya need, Kiryu-chan.’ 

Kiryu squeezed his eyes shut, bit down on his lip, overcome. ‘I want to feel you.’ He locked his gaze on Majima’s, eye undoubtedly blown black with ropes of red. 

Something rose in Majima so guttural he almost wrenched back a sob. He was back up against Kiryus's chest, kissing into his neck, ‘do ya want that, baby, yeah?’ Kiryu arched under his touch, nodding quickly, his breathing ragged.  

Majima's thoughts spilt and ran like a tap flowing over. Unable to even consider how wrong he’d been, that Kiryu not only wanted men but he wanted him.  

Majima kissed him again, wound tight with need. He fumbled a hand against the bedside table groping around for condoms and lube. He slowed, pressed his lips to his again, leisurely tracing Kiryu’s bottom lip with his tongue, parting his lips. The kiss temporarily stabilised the thrashed want between them. 

‘....Ya sure?’ he wanted consent, he also quietly wanted reassurance.  

Kiryu moved his hand to Majima’s, closed his palm over the lube and condoms, he looked at him and nodded once, certain but uncontrolled. 

Majima felt his last lines of defence loosen, both sides of him crossed over like an eclipse and he let himself be overthrown, allowed his fangs to show, he wanted to lose himself to having him. 

He slicked his fingers and slowly moved down to Kiryu’s entrance. Spread the lube up and down before shifting back down completely, sucking down deep onto his cock as he simultaneously pushed one finger inside, soft to begin with, opening him up like something precious and fragile. He heard Kiryu huff out in pleasure. Worked in and out of him and matched the steady rhythm he kept on his cock. 

He let Kiryu fall from his mouth, ‘fuck, yer beautiful’ he thickened the compliment by sliding a second finger in as he pushed in again. Kiryu gasped at the feeling, one hand grasping the sheets, the other looped through Majima’s hair. Majima revelled in this, the intimacy of stretching him, feeling the tight resistance as Kiryu moaned around him. In his dreams it was always the thought of pleasing him which brought him to the edge, hearing him gasp and cry out in pleasure. Making him his with the little inclines of his fingers until he was pushing up into his prostate, Kiryu begging to be allowed to finish.  

‘Niisan!’ Majima felt his dick throb and leak. He pushed a third finger in greedily, he felt entirely on edge. He bared his fangs, barely holding back his nails as he stroked inside, just on the precipice of control. 

‘That’s enough, that’s enough.’ Kiryu gasped, Majima stopped his ministrations immediately - fearing he had done wrong, needing Kiryu’s express permission.  

Kiryu met his gaze, low and heady with desire, ‘fuck me.’ 

Majima was up on his calves shuffling the condom down himself, letting his nails extend out as soon as he was done, a quick slip of lube and he was over Kiryu, mouths pressing and meeting. He looked down at him, one arm propping him up, the other guiding his cock to line up to where he needed it so much. 

He pressed in so, so slowly, their breath hitched on the same beat. Majima stopped, let Kiryu breathe, take in the sensation, he watched him steadily, pushed more, so eager. Slipping inside of that beautiful tightness. Halfway in and he stopped to give Kiryu time to adjust.  

‘I want to feel all of you.’ The words bewitched him, Majima carefully sank the rest of the way in, drinking in Kiryu’s breathy moan as he took him entirely.  

Majima breathed out, steadied himself, like trying to gain his balance on a ship stuttered by a storm. He drew out not all the way and pressed back in, testing. Kiryu sighed into it. He looped Kiryu's fingers against his own, far beyond the point of shame of want, and thrust inside again, Kiryu whined up into him and Majima moaned, he captured Kiryu's mouth beneath his, setting a soft and easy pace. The build-up had already been so intense. He felt Kiryu cling to him, hard muscle and sinew, he broke from the kiss and licked and kissed against his neck, moaning softly against his ear. 

Kiryu cried out, wrapped his legs over Majima’s hips, changing the sensation so Majima could take him deeper, more intimately. Unthinking Majima pressed his forehead against Kiryu’s, panting against him. 

‘I’ve needed ya for so long, so so long.’ Kiryu whined beneath him, cock flushed, untouched.  

‘Thought about ya so much. How I wanted ya, wanted to make ya feel so good.’ 

Majima tightened his grip around Kiryu’s hand and pressed into Kiryu’s bicep with the other. Kiryu was panting beneath him, chest flushed, head pushed back against the pillow, lost to the sensation. Majima snapped his hips in harder, Kiryu arched his back and he took that as invitation, quickened his pace, still kissing down his cheek, his neck.  

‘Niisan.’   

The airy little whimper of that name, Kiryu’s name for him, coiled thick inside him. He buried himself in again, gasping, nails digging into the softness of Kiryu’s hand where they were entwined. 

‘Kazuma,’ he answered, lost to everything except loving him.  

He felt Kiryu pull him harder against him and make a choked sound of pleasure against his shoulder. 

Kiryu pressed a palm to Majima’s jaw, manipulated his face so he could only see him, only know him. Majima’s one eye, stygian and scarlet, searched Kiryu’s own for acceptance for what he was. A human imitation but with a soft and mortal heart.  

‘Goro,’ barely even a whisper as he panted against him. Majima captured his mouth with his own again. Kiryu broke away first, dragging his nails up Majima’s back like he was falling and grasping for purchase.  

Majima moaned, completely overcome, he had barely even touched Kiryu’s cock, the thought made his head spin. He unlaced their fingers and shifted his weight to his other arm, slipping his hand between them to stroke him, desperate to please him. He felt Kiryu arch up against him, pleasure rolling through him as he gasped, mouth wide.  

Their heat and sweat shared as they moved, their edges blurred into the other but neither was afraid. Majima felt Kiryu shake and call his name beneath him, he brought his lips to his in answer, felt the sweet pressure of Kiryu’s body tightening around his, the wetness of his climax between them and Majima followed. Pleasure concentrated down in a single moment before the release, panting Kiryu’s given name before biting into his shoulder, overwhelmed by the thought and feel of him. 

They lay breathless and tacky, Kiryu smoothing down Majima’s skin as though trying to calm a feral animal. Majima was pressed to Kiryu’s chest, still softening inside, obstinately pushing back the thorned thoughts that were already spreading tendrils in his mind. He pulled out carefully, felt Kiryu stiffen at the loss of contact. He disposed of the condom in a bin to the side of the room, took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the bookshelf. He knelt back on the bed, unsure. He lit a cigarette then held the pack out towards Kiryu, noted the bloody little punctures on Kiryu’s shoulder and didn’t know how to feel. Kiryu sat up on his elbows, he looked at Majima, unflinching. He took a cigarette and then held a hand out, Majima grasped it slowly, Kiryu pulled him into his chest and Majima felt something swell and open inside himself, like a gate unlatched in a gale. Majima pulled the ashtray from the bedside table into the middle of the bed, it felt natural. Kiryu kissed into his hair, too long, Majima thought absently. Kiryu snaked an arm around his middle wordlessly, Majima could only hear the strong pulse of his heart in his chest. The silence spanned for several minutes, neither uncomfortable nor obtuse.  

‘Yer a weird guy, Kiryu-chan.’ 

Majima felt Kiryu huff a laugh against his hair, a smile tugging at his lips. 

‘And you’ve got great pillow talk.’ 

‘Well, what do ya expect? I’ve made passes at ya for years now and nothing, and then you show up –not even at my doorstep, in my damn living room- and ya give me the best- the erm...a fucking good roll in the hay.’  

Kiryu was quiet, his eyes downcast to his lap. 

‘It’s not that I haven’t wanted the same.’ He shifted slightly, as though he had to slowly extract each word. ‘I suppose I’m not used to doing things for myself, giving myself what I want.’ He looked at Majima then, his gaze searching.  

Majima breathed out slowly, ‘it’s not always as simple as what ya want.’ 

‘Then why pursue me in the first place?’ 

Majima bit down his instinct, to get angry, to push, to attack. 

‘Well, now what? Ya come to me then go running off into the night to play UFO catcher and chase lost cats?’ There was no venom in his tone, his defence had crumbled. 

Kiryu looked at him still, his brow furrowed slightly. 

‘I mean do ya even realise what this all is?’ Majima gestured to his eye, knowing the darkness would still be there. 

‘...I thought you were trying out contact lenses.’ 

Majima’s jaw dropped open, seconds passed and then Kiryu burst into laughter. Not his usual reserved little chuckles but actual laughter. Majima sat stunned. 

‘The hell?’ 

Kiryu managed to compose himself, ‘Niisan, I’ve heard the stories, I know what you are, I’ve had my suspicions for a while now.’ 

Majima massaged at one temple, ‘fuck yer such an idiot.’ he heard Kiryu laugh softly again. Majima placed his hand on his own thigh, ‘but really, what now?’ 

There was a pause, ‘Well I’d like to do this aga-’ 

‘Yer don’t know what yer askin’.’ Majima’s usual lilting cadence was now flat.  

‘I know what I’m asking.’ Kiryu’s tone defiant.  

There was a tension between them now, like before a fight, Majima felt himself tense under it, stop for fucks sake, he let it fold. He dropped his head back against the bedpost. 

‘Those that are like me. We ain’t supposed to have,’ - he gestured his hand between them-, ‘this. Regularly, from one person...As a full-time thing.’ he spoke so softly.  

Kiryu considered for a moment before replying, ‘you’ve never seemed like you like playing by anyone’s rules but your own.’ 

‘It ain’t that easy! It’s not just about what is and isn’t done, I could live years longer than ya, decades maybe.’ He breathed, ‘And sex ain’t exactly always an optional thing here, it’s something I need.’ he gritted out the last part, it felt shameful to say aloud, stupidly, humanly, shameful. 

‘Both of us deal with occupational hazards, nothing is guaranteed in our lives, I’ve fought you enough times to know you bleed just like I do.’ 

Majima twitched at Kiryu’s directness, his way of making any problem seem surmountable, he almost half believed him. 

‘That’s nice and all, but there’s the part about me needing to get my dick wet every so often.’ His eye flickered again to the angry mark on Kiryu’s shoulder, the feeling of uncertainty had morphed into one of possession, he raked his gaze away. 

Kiryu sighed but Majima caught the faint flitter of a smile on his lips, he looked at Majima directly, ‘Majima-no-niisan, I won’t have a problem with you needing to fuck me, the feeling is entirely mutual.’ 

Majima blinked several times, trying to run a coherent sentence through his brain before his mouth could act on the impulse of pressing into Kiryu’s. 

‘And when we’re old? Or you’re old? It’s not guaranteed how I might age.’ 

Kiryu’s eyes widened slightly, he looked down at his lap, ‘well. Erm.’ - he cleared his throat- ‘I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself there.’ He shifted again, ‘but it’s like I said, nothing is guaranteed for those like us.’ 

Majima tried to ground himself, tried to make a decision that wasn’t based purely on want. He was a hedonist in most ways but letting himself have the things he needed most rose up like bile in his throat. Things like that weren’t for him. He felt a hand close over his own, it was calming, a hint of blue on the horizon in a hurricane. 

His eyes met Kiryu’s. ‘I know that I want to try.’ Kiryu’s voice was barely a whisper. 

Majima looked back at him, unwavering, his one eye travelling from Kiryu’s one to the next. 

‘Fuck it.’ 

Majima leaned in and felt Kiryu pull him the rest of the way.