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Trying to land a hit on Majima was like trying to swat a mosquito blindfolded. Kiryu would get just close enough and then the world was buzzing in his ears. There was a flurry of tight, frantic motion. And Majima would feint right and dart left and depending on how focused Kiryu was at that point in the fight, the wiry man would dodge directly into either a fist or freedom. If he really wasn’t paying attention, the bite of Majima’s blade knicking him would be punishment enough to bring him back into reality. This time, however, Kiryu’s mind was closer to the foreground. He saw it coming. Majima dodged low to his left, shrieking madly with a joy that resonated in Kiryu’s blood, and into a fist swinging around to meet him like the hammer of the gods. It caught him clean in the sternum, forcing him back so suddenly and fiercely that it knocked his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud, the air in his lungs escaping in one decisive ‘oof’.

Kiryu breathed out hard and felt his heart dance with adrenaline, waiting for the return attack. The muscles in his upper back tensed and his jaw clenched tight. It was one of the best feelings in the world.

And it had been far too long since he’d felt it.

There hadn’t been a reason for the fight, not that they’d really ever needed one before. They’d both ended up in the same alleyway at the same time and Majima had crooned at him and smiled that unhinged smile which always sent something scrambling up Kiryu’s spine. And Kiryu could’ve felt that one eyed stare from a city block away, deep in his chest, in the space between his lungs. It was pure muscle memory that sent them squaring up against each other. They’d talked. Kiryu would be damned if he could remember what about. If a person focused too much on what Majima was saying and what his face looked like when he said it, it meant they’d taken their attention off of his hands. And by that point Majima’s hands usually had a knife in them.

Kiryu watched him. Watched the tanto still hanging loosely in Majima’s hand. The Dog was down, certainly, but never actually out. Kiryu had the unsettling feeling that even if Majima died he wouldn’t actually ever stop. The fingers around the grip finally relaxed and Majima’s chest began rising in the steady and deep fashion that said he was done for the moment. Excitement seeped from Kiryu’s system like water down a clogged drain. He stretched and heard more than felt his back voice its complaints.

“’m gettin fucking old,” Majima grumbled, more to the sky than to Kiryu. Still, Kiryu grunted out in agreement as he made his way carefully over to where the other man was lifting himself into a sitting position. When he reached Majima’s side, Kiryu offered his hand. There was a short pause before it was accepted and Kiryu felt the lean strength still thrumming in the thinner man, as if Majima was half trying to pull him to the ground. There was no real malice in the pull. A certain percentage of him was quietly disappointed. Kiryu held still and let Majima tug himself to his feet without so much as a twitch. “Yer like a damn tree,” the casual, raw appreciation in his voice sent Kiryu’s ears to burning. ‘And you’re like a force of nature,’ Kiryu didn’t say. Majima was a man who’d learned how to fight and beat men twice his strength by being three times more vicious and cunning. And moving like a damn viper. And by being harder to break than concrete. A nervous feeling began wriggling around at the base of Kiryu’s throat.

Once he was on his feet Majima rubbed his lower back and looked around for where he’d left his bat. Kiryu squared his shoulders and his resolve, breathing deeply in the hope of forcing some of his adrenaline to back down from the edge it was urging him towards. This wasn’t a good time but it increasingly seemed like a better one would never be incoming. Majima was too busy running his family and it was all too rare that Kiryu saw him anymore. And it really had been too long since he’d seen him and Kiryu’s mind wasn’t thinking in straight lines and.

“Majima,”

“Eh?”

It would be fair to say that on a scale of one to ten the kiss was about a three. Concerned that the tension from the fight would push him to go in too forcefully, Kiryu ended up pressing his lips in too gently. Barely touching in fact. He’d caught Majima off guard as well; the man had been half turned away and so the contact was more to the corner of his mouth than the center and more facial hair than lip. Kiryu was certain he looked like a damn idiot. He’d even left his hands down at his sides. A panicking twelve year old would have done a better job. After a moment Majima very slowly leaned his head back and away.

“What was that about Kiryu-chan?” he trilled the ‘r’ and drew out the ‘chan’ in a familiar, sing song pattern, but he’d fixed his one good eye on Kiryu. It shone with the cool, stark sanity that only existed on the other side of madness. Instinctively, Kiryu felt the muscles in his core tense for a fight and had to work to suppress it. He looked away from Majima’s gaze, unable to bring himself to hold it any longer.

“Just wanted to,” which clearly wasn’t the answer Majima had been prepared for. For a moment there was no response. Kiryu glanced over at him. A series of expressions flitted over his face, none of them seeming to fit properly, before his devil’s grin took over.

“Well ain’t that sweet?” his tone dripped with poisoned honey and he turned away to retrieve his knife. “C’mon,” he called out, swinging his leather jacket back on over his shoulders and hefting up his discarded bat. “I’m starving,”

 

They sat side by side, Majima ranting through a mouthful of noodles about how incompetent a few of his newest guys were.

About how he was wondering if sicking Minami on them would be enough or if he should handle it himself.

About how Minami’s head was getting a little too big for his shoulders and might need a reminder of his place.

About business.

About everything else, it seemed, except for the fact that Kiryu had tried to kiss him. He paused mid-sentence to slurp up a mouthful more of noodles before continuing. Kiryu began to tune him out, staring down at his own bowl of untouched food. He forced himself into eating but more for the look of it than out of hunger.

Should. Should he apologize? Probably not. Majima was clearly fine with ignoring it for the time being and maybe that was for the best. Something unnamed in Kiryu sorely hoped that it would be for the best. Hoped they could toss the moment into the ocean and let it sink to the seafloor and forget that it had ever happened. The rest of him shook away that fantasy. He’d wanted to kiss Majima for, for fuck’s sake, for years. And yeah, he’d done a shit job of it but at least he’d finally gone through with it.

Majima was looking at him and Kiryu realized that a question had been asked and that it had gone completely over his head. Whatever it had been about apparently wasn’t important enough for Majima to repeat himself because he stood up and cracked his neck loudly. He sighed, high pitched and dramatic, causing the few other patrons to jump nervously in their seats. They looked over and saw the tattoo on his bare chest and quickly looked away. Majima wordlessly paid for their food before Kiryu could even protest.
“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 

It was cool out in the night air, sticking in Kiryu’s lungs. The sun would probably be rising soon. Majima had moved from tapping his bat against the pavement to resting it on his shoulder. Every once and a while Majima would lift it and take a swing at the empty air, stare at where he’d swung and then resling the bat over his shoulders. Each and every one of Kiryu’s senses were on high alert, waiting for the swing aimed at him that never came. There was something off with Majima and it bled high tension into the space between them. He was too. Not quite serious, that wasn’t it. Subdued? That felt closer, but it was still missing the mark.

Kiryu shelved that observation for later. Majima had slowed behind him to pull out a cigarette and automatically Kiryu brought out his lighter and offered it. The older man leaned in, his free hand cupping the cigarette away from the slight wind. It was close enough that when Kiryu breathed in he could smell cigarette smoke and beef noodles and sweat and he wanted to kiss Majima again. Properly, this time. Instead he slid the lighter back into a pocket.

When he looked up the bright ember lit the angles of Majima’s face and threw the snake on his eyepatch into sharp relief. He looked empty in the moment between inhale and exhale. Majima made a movement and it took Kiryu a moment to realize it was him offering the pack to Kiryu. He slid one out of the pack and brought it to his mouth, free hand going back to retrieve his lighter. Before he could react one of Majima’s hands shot out like a striking snake and clamped down on the back of his neck. Kiryu tensed, prepared to throw him. Instead of an attack, however, Majima’s face came in close and he pressed the tip of his lit cigarette to Kiryu’s. Once his nerves resettled themselves, Kiryu caught on and puffed until his glowed.

“Some people call that a ‘cigarette kiss’, Kiryu-chan,” Majima said conversationally. It was hard to tell if he was blinking or winking but Kiryu cleared his throat against his rising flush. Clearly Majima heard because his manic laughter echoed through the night air, bright and sharper than steel. It cut through the tension between them better than any knife could ever. “More satisfying than your version though, eh?” Kiryu straightened his back; if he hadn’t been blushing before.

“It was that bad?”

Majima was still grinning when he walked a few paces away and looked down the length of the street. It was the special time between too late and too early when most people were absorbed in their own worlds. Focused on their own personal dramas. They paid little attention to the two men smoking and speaking quietly to one another. The street lights gleamed off Majima’s bat, now held straight across the back of his shoulders. Both hands rested on it, cigarette dangling between two fingers. He took a long drag before he answered Kiryu’s question.

“I’ve had worse,” he blew out the smoke in a way which suggested he’d tried and failed to make a ring. He scowled at the air. “But not many,” Kiryu tried and failed to keep a straight face at that and so turned to look down the street. From the corner of his eye Kiryu saw Majima point the bat down the length of the street. After picking out a tackily dressed man out of the crowd, Majima mimed taking a large swing at him. He made a loud clicking sound with his mouth in an imitation of connection.

“Sorry,” Kiryu said to the night air, as if it could make things better. It was hard to tell what was going through Majima’s head at the best of times and now that he was acting so.
“Figured you were,” the one eyed man muttered, breaking Kiryu’s thoughts short. The way he said it caught Kiryu’s attention more than anything else but Majima seemed prepared to talk and Kiryu was more than willing to let him. “’s happened to a lotta guys I’ve known. Ya get into a good fight, your adrenaline gets up, your blood gets up,” he swung again and made another loud ‘click’ as another imaginary head was sent to the outfield. He grinned, wide and bright. It was forced at the edges. “Then, bang, you’re up,” he shrugged in a way that was more a roll of the shoulders. As though he were limbering up. “If you’re not fighting hard you’re hardly fighting,” he snickered to himself and then seemed to remember something. “So. No harm no foul, Kiryu-chan,” Kiryu dropped his cigarette, unfinished, onto the ground and stubbed it out with a toe.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Kiryu had known it to happen sometimes in a fight, to a certain type of guy. The way Majima sometimes acted when they fought, shrieking and whooping and cackling, he suspected it had happened to him on more than one occasion.

And. Well. There had been times when. Kiryu’s mind stuttered around the fact that there were absolutely times that a knock down-drag out with Majima had gotten his blood boiling better than any lewd magazine had ever. When after he’d finally managed to put an end to the whirl of knife edges and mad laughter that he’d wanted to. Kiryu very carefully put those thoughts away in a display cabinet in his brain.

But those times had been different; it had been easy to loop the violence that threatened to leak into lust back into violence. While the growing desire to be physical in other ways may have started because of their fights, it certainly didn’t end when the fights did.

“That’s not what that was,” Kiryu only heard himself halfway through that sentence because Majima was still going. Louder than he may have intended.

“’Swhy I didn’t kiss ya back,”

There was silence. A lot of it. It took its shoes off and began making itself comfortable, rubbing its grubby fingers on everything. Majima took a long drag on his cigarette and threw it, still smoldering, to the ground.

What?” Kiryu finally managed. Majima ‘tch’ed loudly and smacked the bat against the ground with an echo that sped down the street.

“Did ya want me to kiss ya back, Kiryu-chan?” this time the way he pitchingly drew out the name could only be heard as ‘mocking’. The bat resonated against the ground again and Majima began making a wet noise through pursed lips, kissing at the air.

“Yes.” Kiryu’s voice sounded considerably more steady than he felt. He’d wanted that more than he cared to admit to and now with Majima openly teasing him about it, his stomach turned in a way that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager.

Majima stopped his various pantomimes. “Always so serious about shit, aren’t ya?” he didn’t wait for an answer. “If you mean that, come on; I’ll make all your dreams come true Kiryu-chan,” his lips puckered in an exaggerated kiss as he leaned over. Majima’s good eye glittered with something that looked like a challenge in the low light and it sent Kiryu’s throat to tightening. It was an unspoken risk that reared up in the back of Kiryu’s mind that Majima wasn’t being serious. That he would pull back and laugh. Kiryu closed the distance between them and Majima straightened as he drew in.

It was better than before.

It would have been hard to be worse.

Kiryu’s mouth still moved in too lightly but now Majima was making up for the difference, pressing forward. Firm and sure and. Those were teeth dragging at Kiryu’s lower lip. Tugging open the seam of his lips to let Majima’s tongue dart in and swipe at Kiryu’s teeth. Kiryu opened his mouth properly at the odd sensation and had to suppress a jolt when he heard the clatter of Majima’s bat hitting the asphalt. He chanced slipping his tongue into the older man’s mouth and was rewarded for his efforts with a light bite and then the taste of Majima flooding his mouth along with the other man’s tongue. Nicotine and meat and something vaguely sour and plain saliva and. Kiryu pushed back into Majima’s mouth with enough force that their lips parted briefly before Majima tilted his head and reconnected them.

Any doubts Kiryu had been quietly fostering that Majima was only mocking him were quickly drop kicked out of the nearest mental window. He was doing something with his tongue that Kiryu couldn’t quite keep up with and he felt the scratch of Majima’s facial hair against his skin as the other man smirked into the kiss.

Something was tugging on his hair and he realized dimly that it was Majima’s leather gloves threading up and holding him still. By the time it occurred to him that he should probably put his own hands somewhere on the other body, Majima was starting to wriggle against him like an eel. His knife, it had to be his knife they’d only just. It was pressing against Kiryu’s thigh.

Suddenly acutely aware of how very public this all was—anyone could see them and in this part of town anyone was surely going to contain a measurable percentage of Majima’s own guys—Kiryu pulled back. The hold on the back of his head was insistent but nowhere near strong enough to have stopped him. He would have wondered about that had he not suddenly been face to face with an eye and a twisted smile full of delighted mischief. It shifted into a melodramatic pout. The hands fell to Kiryu’s shoulders and their warm weight grounded him.

“Let’s get out of the street,”

“Huh?” Majima blinked at him and then laughed in that high pitched, screeching way of his. “You want a blow job in a back alley or something?” Kiryu was sure that if it weren’t for all the blood rushing to his face his glare would have been more effective. As it was Majima bent over and picked up his bat, snickering to himself. When he snapped back up to his full height he gestured with a nod of his head. His voice sounded open and easy. “Come on,”

 

The pace they walked was quickened with a refreshing tension. It had the familiar feel of the excitement before a fight. Kiryu felt like the air was thrumming in his lungs with every breath he took. Majima had whistled and swaggered and once they were inside the building and had pressed the elevator call button he’d. He’d given Kiryu a look that Kiryu would never be able to name. It was related, if somewhat distantly, to relief. The relation was tempered heavily by a series of torrid affairs with laviciousness, but relief was in the gene pool somewhere. As though he’d been expecting Kiryu to turn tail and run and was glad to see that he’d stayed as long as he had. Majima used the bat to press the button in the elevator and waited until Kiryu was inside to drag it lightly up the outside of Kiryu’s leg. Kiryu let it linger for a few floors, letting the dull slide add heat to a simmering pot.

He then brushed the bat away with his calf and side stepped so that he was practically against Majima. The patriarch regarded him with a look of mild interest, raising an eyebrow.
“Thank you for kissing me back,” Kiryu said quietly, if firmly. There were cameras everywhere, he knew, but there were always cameras watching anyway. He couldn’t remember if they had microphones. What he could hear was Majima clearing his throat; saw him staring back and then looking sharply away. He seemed to adjust quickly, preparing to say something back when the elevator pinged its arrival and cut him off. His stance had changed though and Kiryu had caught the movement as clearly as if they had been squaring up. Majima was more than a little off guard.

Kiryu had enough time to slide his shoes off and begin saying “Nice view,” before Majima jumped him, barely waiting for the door to his penthouse to click shut. It shuddered on its hinges with the weight of Kiryu forcing Majima back and against it. Majima struggled in a way that rubbed his bare chest down Kiryu’s front and slammed his mouth against Kiryu’s so hard their teeth clicked. Kiryu tried to jerk back and failed; Majima’s mouth followed his movement. Pressing back as though losing contact would be so much worse than chipping teeth. Kiryu got his hands onto Majima’s shoulders, not an easy feat with Majima pawing him from every angle, and pushed back hard, glaring at the other man. The pupil of Majima’s remaining eye was blown wide. He stayed against the wall for the moment, glaring back at Kiryu like a man dying of thirst being presented with a glass of water just out of reach.

“I’d been putting it off that kiss for a long time, Majima-san. I shouldn’t have waited as long as I did,” Kiryu lessened the force he was holding Majima with and was immediately met with Majima arching up off the door and catching his mouth. The kiss was hard and brief. But Kiryu didn’t miss the hunted look in Majima’s eye before he did so. As if hearing these things was distressing him in some way. Kiryu forced him back again, door rattling hard, and Majima made a noise in the back of his throat that went straight to Kiryu’s groin. “If someone knows what they should--,”

“Shit man, you hardly say a damn thing all night and now you won’t shut the fuck up?” the edge to his words had nothing to do with excitement.

“Hm,” Kiryu let the issue fade into the background for a moment along with the sounds of Kamurocho below. Majima’s hands were gripping the grey suit jacket, pulling at it like it had personally offended him. Obligingly Kiryu went to slide it off. Which meant taking his hands off of Majima. Which meant Majima was back off the door and pressing flush against him. Pressing him further into the apartment.

Kiryu had. Well. Been with people before. But this was. This was something else. There were hands ripping his shirt up from where it had been tucked into his trousers. Hands dragging through his hair. Holding his head still. A hot mouth, uncoordinated and too forceful, against his mouth. His neck. A slick, searing tongue writing profanity down his jugular and something dangerously illegible up his windpipe and back into his mouth. Small, hard points of pressure of teeth on his lower lip and jaw and earlobe. Before Kiryu registered the distance he’d been made to travel he felt an obstacle against the back of his knees. The arm of Majima’s couch, he determined, about half a second before he also determined that Majima was dropping a shoulder and pushing against.

Huh. That wasn’t exactly how Kiryu thought he’d see Majima’s ceiling.

Kiryu fell rather awkwardly over the armrest and back onto the couch. He had about three seconds to consider the position before Majima was slipping over him like a quick current over a dry riverbed. Feeling more than slightly outpaced Kiryu managed to shimmy himself entirely onto the couch and grab onto Majima’s hips as he followed swiftly, coming to straddle the younger man’s thighs. The leather creaked against Kiryu’s bare hands and he let his fingers curl up and around Majima’s belt. With the movement Majima grinned down at him like something normally only found in dark, deep water and rolled his hips down hard.

It was around this time that Kiryu realized that Majima was staring at him with what could only be called sinister glee in his eye.

That was an interesting noise, Kiryu-chan,” Kiryu didn’t know he’d made one. Then the sudden tight, hot pressure from Majima rutting down once more against his crotch had him hissing through his teeth again. It felt better than it had any reasonable right to.

Maybe it had been longer than Kiryu thought.

Out of the corner of his eye Kiryu saw Majima’s hand come to support himself against the back of the couch. He leaned over and the tongue-and-teeth tag team was back to nipping and licking into Kiryu’s mouth. Kiryu’s hands left Majima’s belt—and not because the angle made it too difficult to unbuckle it, no not at all, that wasn’t the reason—and slid around. One came to the small of Majima’s back while the other planted itself squarely on Majima’s backside. When Majima slid his hips again, Kiryu bucked up against the friction, trapping the other man between his pelvis and hands. That certainly wasn’t a knife. Majima broke the kiss and exhaled heavily against Kiryu’s cheek, rolling with the motion.

The weight on Kiryu’s lap shifted as Majima sat back up. His face was suddenly serious—a clean and simple look that sent a deep shiver through Kiryu’s core that he would have bet cold cash Majima would be able to feel. He slid his hands around to rest on the crest of Majima’s thighs, letting his thumbs press in towards the inner seam of his leather pants. Majima’s mouth moved as though he were testing out his words before sending them out to the world. “’m only gonna ask this once, man. How far d’ya want this to go?”

“What?”

Majima’s face hardened, something that hadn’t even seemed like a possibility a moment ago. “I’m asking if you’re fine with just this,” he rolled his hips pointedly, sending a pleasant spark up Kiryu’s spine. “or if you want more,”

More, please. Said a very specific part of Kiryu’s anatomy, which had a very strong opinion about that matter. The rest of his mind shuffled shyly and cleared its throat, unsure of just how far Majima might mean. With the way he was staring down at Kiryu through a mask of stone, it became pretty clear that he meant. It must have shown on Kiryu’s face.

Even if it didn’t, there was no mistaking the message coming from between Kiryu’s legs. The space between his own body and the leather clad one sitting on his lap was beginning to grow a little too tight for comfort.

“More,” Kiryu wished it hadn’t come out as a mumble but when Majima had rutted down Kiryu could feel the strong muscles in his legs and it made his fingers twitch. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles against the seam pressing into Majima’s inner thighs, drawing closer and closer to. Kiryu let one hand slip over and being palming at Majima through the barrier. “If you want that too,” Kiryu remembered himself mid-grope.

The stone cracked and Majima grinned again.

“Really, Kiryu-chan?” and from where Majima was perched on him, all Kiryu could see was a slim crescent of pupil, surrounded by white. It was an intense look to say the least; one Kiryu had seen during many, many fights. Right when they started getting good and the blood started flowing and. Kiryu swallowed hard and ground the heel of his palm against what he hoped was the base of Majima’s erection. The other man made a tight noise in his chest. “Guess I didn’t really think you were being serious. Should’ve known better,” Majima began to lean over again before he suddenly righted himself, face turning dark and annoyed. “Ah shit,” Majima swung his legs off the couch in what was meant to be a smooth motion. It was hampered by Kiryu briefly tightening his hold on Majima’s body, unwilling to let the warmth of him leave. Retaliation came in Majima swatting Kiryu’s hands a bit harder than the younger man had been prepared for; he loosened his grip and Majima rose from the couch, grumbling. There was a pleased tint to his voice though—something studious made a note of it in the back of Kiryu’s mind. Kiryu went to follow and was pushed back onto the couch with a hard, almost absent minded shove. “Wait here,”

Cautiously, Kiryu sat back and waited there. And waited. It really was a very nice apartment. Modern looking. Wide windows and a flat screen TV and. Kiryu cracked his neck and then his back and then his fingers and suppressed the bubble of anxiety building at the base of his spine about what had distracted Majima. He considered getting up when something banged loudly in another room.

So he reclined back onto the couch and waited some more.

It sounded like Majima was destroying his own apartment but Kiryu thought it unwise to ask exactly what the other man was up to, just in case Majima answered him. Loud crashes and jolts were punctuated by brief silences and tied together with long streams of fairly inventive profanity. After a particularly loud bout of “goddamn motherfuckin’ moron, can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Majima returned to Kiryu’s field of vision, snatching Kiryu’s jacket up from the floor and tearing through its pockets. Kiryu watched silently for a moment before frowning, feeling much of his earlier excitement leeching out of his system.

“What are you looking for?”

“Thought you mighta…” Majima trailed off, throwing the grey jacket on the ground and stomping on it. “’Course ya fuckin don’t,”

“Hey!”

“Can’t believe I ain’t got a condom in this whole fuckin place,” Majima ignored him, glaring around the room with an aura of agitation that Kiryu could almost see.

Oh,” Kiryu flushed. “Uh,” he shifted and, trying and failing to be as casual as possible, slipped a hand into the back pocket of his trousers and retrieved a square, foil packet.

“Holy shit,” Majima couldn’t have looked more stunned if an alien had landed in his apartment and also happened to have a condom in his back pocket. The grin that took his face suddenly was wild and raw with mad delight. “You pervert,” the insult’s sting was lessened significantly by the fact that Majima was sliding his gloves from his hands with his teeth. “You just carry that shit with ya all the time? Or didya know you were getting lucky tonight?” There wasn’t a single cell in all of Kiryu’s body willing to answer that question. It was apparently rhetorical; Majima tossed his gloves to his side and slithered back onto Kiryu’s lap, plucking the condom from his hand and putting it on the couch next to them.
With the return of the heat and weight so came the return of Kiryu’s. Ah. Interest.

Majima quirked an eyebrow at the feeling and began grinding down onto Kiryu’s erection. “We need to get these off of you,” his now bare hands were sliding in opposite directions—one up Kiryu’s buttoned suit shirt, the other along the waist of his pants. In theory, Kiryu agreed. In practice, his hands found Majima’s hips again and dragged him closer.

“Hard to do with you on my lap,”

“You really want me to get off?”

“I thought that was the point of all this?” Kiryu muttered back, letting his hands wander down to squeeze Majima’s ass. Majima laughed in the kiss Kiryu pulled him into before leaning back to rise onto his feet. He slid off his leather jacket, revealing the front half of his tattoo—loud and lovely and fitting for a man like himself. Knowing he had Kiryu’s undivided attention, Majima swung his hips around in a wide, slow circle as he undid his belt.

He looked lean and strong. Whatever his assertions about being too old may have been, they didn’t show in his body. Kiryu couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen Majima shirtless—the man walked around in nothing but an open jacket most of the time—but this was different. It looked and felt different in the high, artificial light of a private apartment. Better, somehow. Kiryu’s hands twitched again with the desire to grip at that waist and pull him back down.

Despite Kiryu’s tastes not really running that way, he’d seen videos where someone involved had removed leather clothing. Apparently doing it sexily took either a great deal of practice or patience or both. Majima had neither. After having slid his belt off smoothly, Majima grunted and wriggled out of his leather pants, struggling as they bunched around his knees and finally kicking them across the room. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath which would have put Kiryu off had he not been distracted.

Kiryu’s fingers hadn’t fumbled so much with the buttons to his own shirt since he was a kid just learning to dress himself. He threw it to join Majima’s discarded clothing. The shirt was harder than his trousers; once they’d reached his knees Majima’s body was back, sitting on his thighs, hands peeling the last piece of fabric from Kiryu’s hips.

Kiryu had about three seconds to come to terms with a fully nude Majima adjusting himself on his lap before the man in question whistled. “Damn, Kiryu-chan,” and then a hand was around him, stroking him firmly once, twice and then in earnest. The drag was wonderful and Kiryu’s hips moved on their own, bucking up slightly.

“Damn yourself,” Kiryu managed, feeling the heat in his face. There was a chuckle from the man on his lap. Majima’s free hand had retrieved the condom and brought it up to his mouth. It was obvious that he meant to tear the package with his teeth but the plastic twisted and stubbornly rolled in on itself. Kiryu had to force himself into exhaling quietly when Majima’s hand left his anatomy to try and rip open the condom. It snapped open with a satisfying sound and Majima grunted in petty victory.

Finally coming around to the idea that he should be doing something, Kiryu wrapped his own hand around Majima’s dick. He felt the muscles in the older man’s thighs twitch at the sudden contact before Majima began shifting into the slide. Kiryu jumped slightly at the feeling of the cool, slick condom rolling over his cock and in return rubbed his thumb firmly up a thick vein, urging the blood towards the head of Majima’s dick. Their knuckles brushed lightly and, absurdly, it felt more intimate than anything else they’d done yet. Kiryu pumped Majima a bit faster, drawing a sharp exhale from the other man. There was the sharp movement of Majima chucking the wrapper over Kiryu’s shoulder and abruptly spitting against his fingers.

The weight on Kiryu’s legs shifted as Majima leaned forward, enough to lift himself up off of Kiryu’s lap, and Kiryu saw Majima’s hand moving behind himself. Kiryu slowed his pace, turning his head slightly to nip at Majima’s earlobe. It also gave him a better view of Majima’s arm moving in a telling motion. Kiryu tightened his grip unconsciously and Majima bit him sharply on the shell of his ear in response. With his free hand Kiryu reached up and slipped his fingers through Majima’s hair, digging in at the roots and pulling. Majima’s breath was warm against Kiryu’s cheek as he groaned at the sensation. Still concerned about being too forceful, Kiryu jerked Majima’s hair again, sharp and quick and Majima rolled his hips forward into Kiryu’s hand.

“Yeah. Now you’re gettin it,” it was a low grumble. There was a hand on Kiryu’s knee to act as a steadying brace and another holding his dick still and then heat.

Tight and slow and.

“Fuck,” Kiryu clenched the hand in Majima’s hair into a fist and Majima rocked down, taking Kiryu into the hilt. They stayed like that for a moment or two, both adjusting. And then Kiryu’s world went a little hazy. Majima fucked like he fought; sharp and sudden and unpredictable. Hips bucking and slamming and rolling and then going deceptively still only to spark back into frantic motion when Kiryu tried to move. Hands against Kiryu’s chest and fingers digging into his back and teeth on his skin and. If he would just hold still for a second then Kiryu could. He could just. If. A particularly hard slam down on Majima’s part. Instinct took over and Kiryu’s hands secured themselves under Majima’s thighs.

Majima struggled against the hold and Kiryu lifted and turned, throwing Majima back against the couch. He caught the knee Majima tried shoving against his stomach and forced it to the side, dodged the elbow aimed for head, and rutted down hard. Majima’s head sank back against the couch cushion, pleased profanity on his lips. Kiryu took advantage of the lull and aligned himself, sinking in deep in a single, hard thrust. On the drawback Kiryu looked down at the man pinned beneath him. The remaining eye was wide with excitement and eagerness and the smile was a deep, open lipped affair. Every inch of the expression reeked with the joy of a challenge being met. He looked on the edge of laughing. Kiryu was struck like a slap in the face by how much he’d missed Majima in the time since they’d last seen one another.

Legs wrapped around his hips, one of Majima’s hands appeared tight on his bicep, trying to give him enough leverage to writhe under the dragon. Kiryu pressed down with the full weight of his lower body and thrust in slowly. He could feel Majima clench down along every inch of him; he caught the other arm by the shoulder and gripped it hard. Now with Majima more or less forced into stillness Kiryu rocked into him in a steady, even pace. Meeting each attempt from Majima to wriggle and buck under him with a hard noise and harder push against his shoulder into the cushion. It occurred to Kiryu in a distant, unobtrusive way, that he could be rougher. Should be rougher. Should hold Majima down and pummel him and. His mind made it halfway through the thought when a signal alarm went off and he realized it wasn’t his thought at all but rather Majima. Whining. Urging him on. Desperate for more heat and friction and force and.

“Fucking fuck me,”

After a few more slow, long thrusts and Majima using some fun and exciting new combinations of his name and profanity, Kiryu lowered his chest against Majima’s and wrapped his arms under Majima’s back. He lifted slightly, hands gripping at Majima’s shoulders from behind. Majima’s mouth made it halfway through a questioning sound before Kiryu silenced him. Pulling down on his shoulders and thrusting in at a harsh pace. Majima yelped and arched his back. Kiryu felt the legs around his waist fall to the side, the chest crushed beneath him begin heaving as Majima panted his approval at the change. Hammering into the body below him, Kiryu felt the familiar twitches in his abdomen that signaled he was nearing his last lap. He could feel Majima leaking onto their stomachs, trapped between them.

Taking the risk, Kiryu released his hold on one of Majima’s shoulders and raised himself enough to slip a hand between their bodies, grabbing onto Majima’s neglected cock. Either unable or unwilling to struggle with his newfound freedom, Majima merely grabbed onto Kiryu’s forearm as he stroked in time with his thrusts. Cursing softly and in the back of his throat. When he finally came over Kiryu’s knuckles it was with a high pitched and sharp exhale.

Kiryu continued moving through the other man’s orgasm, holding his end back as much as he could until Majima finally began pushing up against him with a balled fist and a look of surprised scandal. The corners of his mouth tilted up as his eyebrows furrowed down. It was more of a snarl than a grin and he arched his back. Majima clenched fiercely and Kiryu came with a strangled gasp that sounded suspiciously like Majima’s name.

There were a few long moments of stillness. Made longer by the fact that one of Kiryu’s hands had moved to stroke at the stubble along the edges of Majima’s undercut and Majima seemed willing to let it play there. Until.

“Shoulda known you’d be a cuddler,”

“Hm,” Kiryu’s head had fallen into the space between Majima’s shoulder and neck. He could feel Majima’s breath against his ear.

“You said you’d been puttin off the kiss—how long have ya been saving that up?”

“Hm,” Kiryu briefly tightened his hold on the other man. “Not as long as you, I bet,” he mumbled against Majima’s skin.

“Fuck off,” but there was no malice in it; it was just the proper response to a jab that Kiryu suspected may have hit closer than Majima wanted to admit to. “Yer fuckin heavy, man,” but he didn’t make any move to try and push Kiryu off. There was another beat of silent stillness and in it Kiryu finally slipped softly out of Majima’s body. Some politely awkward shifting, then, “That long huh?”

“Hm.” Kiryu inhaled deeply and tried to ignore the slightly sour smell of sex in the air. “It was good to see you, Majima,”

“Yeah,” Kiryu felt Majima’s breathing rising against him in a steady rhythm, interrupted by speaking. “Glad I ran into ya, Kiryu-chan,”