Work Header

Domestic Whims and Woes

Work Text:

The days were beginning to draw longer and longer with the awakening of springtime, and while the clock showed a string of numbers that seemed wrong against the rays of sunlight that peeked through the curtains, Majima found himself apathetic to the concept of time itself due to the simple fact that it had no relation to Kiryu Kazuma. He didn’t even know why he glanced at the clock in the first place; the only thing worth looking at was right under him, laying stomach down and shirtless on the squeaky, leather couch in Majima’s apartment. Kiryu was stretched flat with his arms tucked under his head, resting his cheek upon his forearm to gaze out into the living room while Majima - who was also shirtless - sat on the back of Kiryu’s thighs, legs folded and his knees straddling his waist. 

It still felt surreal, having Kiryu over at his place. He had been over a few times already, but every time he walked through the threshold of the entryway, Majima felt like he was dreaming, and every time he would hit himself in some way to confirm that he wasn’t. 

The first time Kiryu had come to visit, he had made an offhand remark about how empty Majima’s apartment was, a comment that, while it shouldn’t have bothered him, bothered him nonetheless. There hadn’t been anything in the living room besides a couch, a TV, a tower of haphazardly stacked DVDs, and a tiny trash can riddled with ash and overflowing with cigarette butts. The kitchen didn’t even seem to exist, what with its empty cabinets and dusty countertops, fridge packed with nothing but liquor and energy drinks. Kiryu hadn’t even been in his bedroom yet, a fact that brought him relief - and dismay, he would admit - since it only bore a simple futon on the floor.

He knew Kiryu had no ill intentions with what he said, but Majima couldn’t shake the feeling that he had disappointed him somehow. It planted a nagging seed that pinged at the back of his head every time he was there, which was rarely and was why there was hardly anything to begin with. This place wasn’t a home; it was a place to crash after he felt he reigned a sufficient amount of terror onto the city and burned his energy reserves off enough to sleep. Which, the dark circle under his eye proved, was rarely.

However, time ticked on and he began to find himself at his apartment more and more now that Kiryu was becoming a regular part of his life. It got to the point that the bare walls and empty floors seemed to screech Kiryu’s comment into his skull with every step he took, and it drove him mad enough that he soon found himself lost in a furniture store one day, frantically speaking to a bewildered sales associate about needing ‘curtains and paintings and shit’. 

So now there were curtains and paintings, and the day after he hung them up, Kiryu came over, mentioned that he liked them, and that was ultimately all that mattered. The only joy that any of the household trinkets brought him was from the enjoyment that Kiryu got out of them. 

This led to a string of purchases, so now he had a clock on the wall and a coffee table in front of the couch. He bought an intricate vase, creased in golden strands and crackled blues, that he kept on the table and replenished with fresh flowers every time he knew Kiryu was going to be over. The TV sat on an oak entertainment center, its shelves brimming with neatly organized DVD cases, and there were finally plates, glasses, and silverware in the kitchen cabinets. He even made an effort to keep some actual food in the fridge. 

He splurged on a new bed, getting the best and largest mattress that money could buy. It was then placed in a four corner frame with twisting, blackened towers of carved wood that nearly reached the ceiling, a silken canopy draping in swoops from their corners. He covered it with a hefty, red comforter patterned with branches of black leaves and satiny to the touch. An absurd amount of money was sunk into such a whimsical purchase, but Majima did it without a blink of an eye, because - god damn it - if he was going to fuck Kiryu on something, he was going to fuck him on something that was worthy of him. 

Oh, great. Now he’s thinking about sex again.

Majima rolled his head back and sucked in a slow, cool breath of air, trying to keep himself from getting riled up; a difficult feat to accomplish, he found, with the object of his affection directly under him. 

Patience was a shitty virtue, but it was a virtue that Kiryu was holding him to and he begrudgingly respected that. He always said he would do anything for Kiryu, so if Kiryu wasn’t ready and wanted him to wait, he would wait. Through gritted teeth and years of repressed emotions threatening to break him, he would wait.

Kiryu shifted his position slightly with a soft groan, the motion sending Majima’s lewd mind into a whirlwind. He had to get his hips off him before all his blood started to vacate one head and travel to other.

“Kiryu-chaaaaan,” Majima cooed, hefting himself from his sitting position before leaning forward and placing his hands under Kiryu’s arms. Now hovering over him on all fours, Majima dipped his head down and began placing tender kisses on his cheek, brushing them across his face until he reached his ear. “Ya been so quiet. Whatchya thinkin’ about?”

“Hm? Ah…” Kiryu mumbled lazily, “I’m just looking at the flowers. I’ve never seen ones like them before. I like them.”

Majima glanced over at the hydrangeas on the coffee table, the plumes pouring over the vase in exuberant, balled puffs of violet petals with strikingly blue centers. He had picked them out this morning at the tiny flower boutique he was becoming a regular at. The florist that owned the place was getting to know Majima well, having grown endeared to the man that first strutted into her store, brazenly yakuza and swaggering with attitude, before he approached her and shrank, timidly asking what flowers she would recommend he get for his boyfriend. She greeted him with her usual, beaming smile and drew him towards the puffy hydrangeas when they caught his eye. She told him that she didn’t get the purple ones in often, which was enough to make Majima buy them in a heartbeat. As she began wrapping them up, Majima - who instantly adored the ideals of flower language ever since she first told him about it - asked her what they meant, and she told him that they were meant to symbolize a desire to deeply understand someone.

“Ya like ‘em?” Majima responded breathlessly, Kiryu’s oblivious confession making his heart swell with adoration. “Then I’ll get ‘em for ya again.”

Glowing with reverence, he went back to lavishing Kiryu with tender kisses, who sighed and swooned under his affection.

“What are they called?” Kiryu asked, a question that brought Majima a moment of pause and a stitch to his forehead. It was hard to think right now. 

“They were, uh, hydrogens er somethin’.”

“...Hydrogens?” Kiryu questioned with a soft laugh, to which Majima let out an irked huff. 

“Shut up. I don’t remember. I’ll still find ‘em, though,” Majima said, placing another kiss, “just for you.” 

He noticed the hint of a blush forming on Kiryu’s cheeks at his words, and this delighted him so thoroughly that he erupted into a fit of giggles. He began to love on Kiryu a bit more vigorously in his jolly, pressing down kisses forcibly enough to make the couch warp and creak under Kiryu’s form. There was a resounding ‘pop’ before a guttural moan rolled out of Kiryu, making Majima freeze in his motions and look down in befuddlement. Kiryu began to heft himself upwards onto his elbows, Majima easing off him so that he could sit up, and he craned into a stretch that sounded off a few clicks of his spine. Kiryu rolled and popped his neck, groaning all the while.

“Your couch is really uncomfortable,” Kiryu said, bringing a frown to Majima’s face.

Well, that was going to bother him.

“Tch. Ain’t an easy man to please, are ya, Kiryu-chan?” Majima grumbled, causing the larger man to glance over his shoulder in confusion. Heaving out an exasperated sigh, Majima pressed himself to Kiryu’s back and wrapped his arms around his chest, nuzzling his face into the back of his neck. He tried to return to showering him with kisses, but he felt Kiryu stiffen under his touch as he turned his head towards the clock.

“I should probably go.”

“Haw?” Majima blurted before careening into a whine. “Nooooo!”

A huff of air was squeezed out of Kiryu as Majima intensified the hold he had on him and buried his face into his shoulder.

“It’s starting to get late,” he said, getting a whimper in response, “and I’m tired.”

“But the sun’s barely even down! Don’t go!” Majima pleaded, scanning his eye over Kiryu’s face and noting that he did appear exhausted. “A-And if yer tired, I don’t want ya walking home.”

“I’ll take a taxi.”

“Noooo! Trouble always flocks to ya when ya go outside, an’ I don’t want ya getting hurt cuz yer tired. Just stay! Ya can sleep here!” 

“Hm? Sleep here?” Kiryu asked, a sheepish expression brushing over his face.


“With… you?”

“Well… y-yeah,” Majima stuttered, a little taken aback by the question, “what’s the point of me keeping ya here if I can’t be with ya?” 

Silence cascaded over them, a look of contemplation crinkling Kiryu’s face and bringing a flutter of optimism to Majima’s chest, who pressed his face into a puppy-like expression of begging and, with a soft mewl, nudged Kiryu’s nose with the tip of his own. Kiryu wore an expression of resistance that steadily faltered before he tipped his head down and uttered a soft response.


Majima peeled out a joyous squeal, tightening his grip even further and planting an ecstatic kiss on Kiryu’s cheek. 

“I’m not sleeping on this couch, though,” Kiryu said, giving his neck another stretch. 

“Course not! Can’t have my little Kiryu-chan gettin’ crinks in his neck!” Majima cooed, giving the exposed side of his neck a few doting kisses. “C’mon, sleepyhead. Let’s go get ya tucked in.” 

Majima eagerly rose from the couch, fondly gazing upon the man that eyed him with an unsure and poorly disguised look of embarrassment. He reached out a hand, which Kiryu took and accepted his assistance in getting him up to his feet. Kiryu wobbled a bit, his weariness hanging from him even heavier than he originally thought, and brought a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. 

“Cuuuute,” Majima oozed. “Sleepy Kiryu-chan is cuuuute.”

“Shut up,” Kiryu mumbled in abashment, his eyes going to the floor as he allowed Majima to lead him by the hand towards the hallway. They rounded the corner, Majima’s heartbeat picking up with every step they took, before they stopped before the bedroom door. He opened the door and led Kiryu inside, who jolted to a sudden stop upon looking at the extravagant bed with a hint of alarm. He didn’t say anything, though, as he dropped Majima’s hand and walked to a side of it, and this made Majima’s insides sink. 

Maybe the bed was too much. 

However, Majima’s discouragement flittered out of his head when he saw Kiryu reach for his belt buckle. He watched with an air of excitement as Kiryu took off his belt, bracing with the anticipation that he would remove his pants, but his elation was dashed when Kiryu crawled into his bed with them still on. Shoulders slumping with a disappointed sigh, Majima rounded to the other side of the bed with a shuffle in his step, eyeing the edge of the mattress as he struggled with a conflicting thought: To drop trou or to not drop trou. 

He slanted his lips as he came to a decision. Kiryu was allowed to be as bashful as he wanted to be, but Majima was not a modest man and wasn’t keen on pretending that he was, so while he wanted to respect Kiryu’s boundaries, he was not about to get into bed with his leather pants on. He unbuttoned his pants and hastily stripped down to his boxer briefs, catching a tick of surprise light up Kiryu’s face before he averted his gaze. 

“Ah, c’mon,” Majima chided, “ya’ve seen me in skirts shorter than this.”

“W-Well… yes, but they weren’t, uh, quite so,” Kiryu said, wavering his eyes between Majima and the bed sheets curled up in his hands, “...form fitting.”

Majima made a questioning noise as he glanced down. Getting a good eyeful of himself, he supposed the briefs were pretty snug. He pondered over chiding Kiryu a bit further, thought of cocking a grin and asking him if he liked what he saw, but ultimately settled on another sigh as the word ‘boundaries’ began to alarmingly bounce between the inner walls of his skull like a ping pong ball. 

Majima flipped up the bed sheet, scrambled under it, and scooted up to Kiryu to plant a kiss on his cheek. The pair stared at each other in a moment of relaxing silence, Kiryu’s anxious form steadily melting back into the sleepy stupor that hung over him before. He nuzzled Majima and gave him a soft kiss on the lips before they sank into the covers, laying on their sides to gaze at each other. Kiryu’s eyes drooped before he brought up a syrupy, sweet smile, which melded with his slumberous expression in such harmony that it brought a glow to his face. Majima’s insides stirred at the sight, and an involuntary breath rushed out of him. 

I love you.

The words were on the tip of Majima’s tongue, but his chest buckled and throat locked, now unable to even breathe. He could only gawk at the man before him, so adorably handsome and innocently rugged with that hazy expression of comfort, and Majima became injected with a sense of yearning so strong that it left him paralyzed. 

“Good night,” Kiryu said as his eyes fluttered shut. 

“G… G’night, Kiryu-chan,” Majima managed to murmur through his tightened throat. 

The reality of it all was finally sinking in. Kiryu Kazuma was in his bed. Kiryu fucking Kazuma was in his bed - in his bed that he picked out for him. His mind shuffled in panic, wondering exactly what he was supposed to do now. Unlike Kiryu, he wasn’t tired - not in the slightest - and sleep was always a struggle to begin with. In the past, in those wistful daydreams of longing, he figured sleep would come easily if only he had Kiryu there by his side, his mere presence taming his inner turmoil into calm. In this moment, however, with the man of his dreams before him, he found in actuality that it was the stark opposite of what he hoped. 

Anxiety spiked through his whole being like a wave of threaded needles, and now, despite all of the begging to get him to stay, it was Majima getting cold feet. All of his senses heightened in alarm, like the air itself gnawed at his skin, like every brush of movement against the bed sheets was akin to the scraping of sandpaper in his ears, and a tremor began to rattle at his skeleton. Mentally swearing at himself, Majima angrily wondered why he kept getting these nervous shakes around Kiryu, his bitter frustration towards his body causing him to bite down on his bottom lip. He figured that he should just get up, go back into the living room so that Kiryu could sleep without this bundle of restlessness called Majima to bother him.  

As he mulled over the thought of leaving, and even started the motions in order to do so, Kiryu shifted forward and slid down, pressing his forehead to Majima’s chest. Lazy arms snaked around Majima’s waist, and a relaxed, heavy sigh compressed his form as he snuggled all of the distance between them away. His touch sent sparks of lightning through Majima’s hypersensitive nerves and made his breath jitter as it escaped his throat, his heat concurrently soothing and burning his skin as it enveloped him. Wracked with pleasurable stings of pain, Majima could only look down at him with an endearing glance of disbelief. A pair of shaking hands rose to cradle Kiryu’s head, weaving gentle fingertips into his hair and stroking them through the plush strands. A contented noise rumbled through Kiryu, almost like a purr, and this brought Majima’s heart to the brink of bursting. 

Well, he couldn’t leave now .

He rested his chin on top of Kiryu’s head, so overwhelmed with emotions that his expression fell vacant, unable to pick what to wear due to there being so many choices whipping through his skull, so it decided on none at all. He could only stare before himself as one hand traced his fingers through Kiryu’s hair and down his neck, gently massaging his shoulder as the other kept his head nestled against his chest and rubbed his scalp. 

He wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he admitted to himself bitterly, his inner, self-critical thoughts so in contrast with his outward gentleness. All he could do was ensure that Kiryu slept in comfort, ensure that he wrangled his restlessness in long enough to make sure Kiryu could feel how much he loved him. He couldn’t say it earlier, and still couldn’t say it now, but he loved him, and he wanted him to fall asleep knowing that. He needed him to know that, because Kiryu has never known what it is to be loved, and that broke him more than any physical torture ever could. 

This man deserved the entire worlds’ adoration but never received a drop of it. 

And so he ran loving hands all over Kiryu, staring at a clock that showed a string of numbers that seemed wrong against the neon rays of city lights peeking through the curtains.