Kiryu wakes with a start. His eyes fly open and he doesn't immediately recognize his surroundings; rather than seeing the familiar ceiling of Serena's backroom, he's met with the pinkish blue hues of a sunset sky and tall buildings that reach upwards in his peripheral vision. His body aches as he stands up, stretching to get the feeling of who knows how many hours he was out on the concrete out of his system. He doesn't remember much, only a small fight with a group of punks that should've been easy for the Dragon of Dojima. Considering his current circumstances, he would have to wager on him losing the fight. Maybe one of them just got a lucky hit and then they collectively decided to dump his sleeping body in a nearby alley.
He heads towards the nearest public bathroom. His suit is covered in dirt and blood, and Serena is too far away for him to try to go to with his current condition; he doesn't want to get stopped and questioned by any police officers roaming about.
It's not just his suit, he realizes when he's confronted with himself in the grimy bathroom mirror. There's bruises and scratch marks and dried blood flaked all over his skin. A deep purple bruise frames the left side of his throat. Kiryu cranes his neck to get a better view. In the center, there's two tiny scabs; syringe marks? He takes a quick mental check of how his body feels; sore, his mouth is pretty dry, and he feels peckish, but otherwise normal. Probably just bites from two happy mosquitos while he was out.
He washes as much blood off of himself as possible. When he looks presentable enough that he won't be at risk of someone calling the cops on him, he starts the trek back to Serena. He buys a water bottle at one of the vending machines on the way and downs it quickly. It doesn't do much to quench his thirst.
Neither does a stiff drink back at Serena. He's changed into a different, clean suit, not yet ready to rest for the night; there's this sense of restlessness that has seeped into his bones, quelling any possible thoughts of sleep. Perhaps a good fight or two will help calm him.
He fights two groups of yakuza, one rich bastard, and three drunkards. None of them have eased the weird energy that sits in his core; if anything, they've heightened the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He's waiting, no, yearning for a crash, for something to calm him down and lull him back into his normal level headedness. Maybe that would also quench the growing thirst that gnaws in his throat, hungry for something that he can't quite name.
Kiryu senses Majima's presence before he can see him. It's like there's a thread of a spider's web pulling his head in the direction of the other man. The rest of the web tugs his feet forward, and soon enough, he can see the back of Majima's gaudy snakeskin jacket in the neon shadows of Pink Street. Majima notices him quickly enough, squealing out a loud "Kiryu-chan!" before bounding over to him.
"Majima-san," he greets.
"Well, aren't cha a sight for sore eyes! I've been lookin' for ya fer hours, itchin' for a fight!"
If Majima sees the array of wounds on his face, he doesn't comment. Only gives the Kiryu a crazed smile before readying himself in a fighting stance.
Perhaps, if all his other fights tonight were simply not strong enough to pull his frayed nerves back into array, then Majima could be the answer.
It's over quicker than he would've liked. Majima had got some good hits in, but he returned each strike nearly threefold, knuckles striking against plush flesh and all the muscles and bones underneath. Their fight had moved out of the public's eye, into one of the many nearby alleyways that didn't get much foot traffic, so he's not embarrassed when he finds himself straddling Majima's lower abdomen, pinning him to the ground, his hands firmly pressing wrists against the concrete. They're panting, both trying to catch their breath. His body is still alight, on fire with energy that only intensified during their fight. Maybe he just needs to find someone stronger, someone who could really knock him back on his feet and sate all of his body's screaming cells.
He's ready to say, "Are we done here?" eyes scanning lazily over the bruises on Majima's face when something catches his attention: Majima's split lip. His words die on his tongue, suddenly far too interested in the blood beading up. Majima must've been watching him; a pink tongue darts out to swipe away the liquid, leaving red-tinted spit shining up at Kiryu.
His right hand lets go off Majima's wrist, not bothering to think of how Majima could use the opportunity to turn the tables and not let the fight end. He's far more concerned with using his now free hand to tilt Majima's chin up, studying the way that blood bubbles and flows every time Majima's lips twitch.
A wave of desire and pure want, no, need crashes over him. He needs a taste, like a drowning man needs air.
Their teeth clack when their lips meet. Majima tastes of cigarettes, of sweet wine, of sweat and desire and pure unadulterated lust. His lips are too soft and pliant against his. And the whine Majima releases when he presses his tongue against the wound on his lip sends a shock wave up his spine.
He's not ready to let go, but Majima pushes lightly as his chest. And so he leans back, just enough for Majima to gasp in breaths and puff hot air against his face. "God, Kiryu-chan. As much as I'd love ya to fuck me right here, I think my back'd appreciate using an actual bed. Whaddya say about continuing this somewhere else? Got a hideout only a couple blocks away."
Kiryu nods. His mind is glazed over, and he thinks he's finally found the ambrosia to sate whatever was clawing within him. It's not enough to fully set him at ease, but it's enough for the desperate energy in his body to sheathe its claws. He peels himself away from the sheer warmth of Majima's body, only to let the man get up and lead them to a place where they could continue what they started.
He's barely closed the door behind him when Majima sidles up against him, body heat radiating like a furnace through layers of clothes, mouth just as sweet as it was minutes ago. He lets him guide him deeper into the room, lips still slotted together, tongues tangled. Majima's legs hit the bed; the next thing he knows, Majima is laying down and Kiryu is climbing on top of him. They've lost all their clothes somewhere between the door and the bed.
Majima's body is a fire that threatens to consume him. He easily gets lost in the myriad of bruises on Majima's skin, ones that he put there, blooming over chiseled muscles. He licks at one of the pebbled nipples, then worries it between his front teeth; if the moan that escapes Majima's throat is anything to go by, then Kiryu is headed in the right track. So he repeats the action, this time pressing against a yellow green bruise right at the base of his ribcage. "O-Oh god," Majima's breath hitches on the words, then whooshes out in a high pitched whine. A wet squelching sound reaches his ears and he dimly realizes that Majima is working himself open. "Kiryu-chan, I need yer dick in me."
He's more than happy to comply. Slick fingers grasp at him, pumping up and down several times to spread the lube all over his length. Kiryu blinks and suddenly the head of his cock is pressing into the tight wet heat that is Majima. It's so sweet and so perfect, and he tries to go slow despite the legs wrapping around him and trying to push his hips forward.
"C'mon, Kiryu-chan, fuck me like ya mean it."
And so he thrusts all the way in, hips meeting Majima's in a stinging slap of skin. Majima's mouth drops open, his expression teetering between pain and pleasure. He only waits a couple moments before he pulls almost entirely out and slams back in. The friction on his dick and the tightness of Majima clamping down nearly enough to cut off his circulation makes his head spin.
The pace he settles into is blinding. Each drag of his cock against Majima's twitching walls sends curses and moans flying from Majima's mouth. He can nearly hear Majima's heart beat in his chest, the pounding a steady rhythm that seems to intensify all of his senses. The only thing that matters right now is Majima below him. Majima making all those "fuck"s and "ah"s and "Kiryu-chan"s that echo inside his brain. Majima and his dick trapped between their bodies and nearly weeping precome against Kiryu's stomach. Majima's flushed face with his eye nearly glazed over in pleasure. Majima's blood pumping loudly in his veins.
He's so hungry, so thirsty for something he can't quite name. "Please," he begs. He doesn't know what he's asking for. "Please, Majima-san."
"Kiryu-chan, ah...ya ask me like that and I'll let you do anything you want."
It's just what he needs. Kiryu buries his face into the hot and sweaty skin of Majima's throat. He licks up a bead of sweat, enjoys the salty flavor on his tongue, breathing in deep the smell of Majima and his pulse beating just below the surface. He moves on pure instinct, mind clouded over with impending orgasm. There's a distinct ache in his gums, teeth throbbing in time with Majima's heartbeat. His mouth opens, and he's bearing his teeth, biting down into soft skin, sinks down as far as his mouth is able to.
Liquid explodes on his tongue. It's hot and sweet and so, so good. It's enough to push him over the edge of orgasm, thrusting even harder into Majima until his dick twitches and he comes deep inside the man. Majima's walls tighten around him, his back arching up like a taut bowstring, chest pressing against chest. There's hands in Kiryu's hair and legs locked around his waist. He tastes more than feels Majima come, cock spurting between them, blinding pleasure that spins in his head as he keeps gulping down the hot liquid that pours from his neck.
He pulls away when Majima's back collapses onto the bed. Satisfaction grips him tightly, mind and body finally calm, thirst finally sated.
Until he notices the blood dripping from Majima's neck.
Majima seems to be out cold, his eye closed, skin pallid and sweaty. He's still breathing, thank god, but the blood on his throat has started pooling on the bedding below.
Kiryu is quick to get up and find a towel. The glance he takes at himself in the bathroom mirror stops him in his tracks; he's got blood, Majima's blood, smeared all over his mouth. Two sharp fangs peek out from between his lips. There's no trace of any other wounds, no bruises or scratches that he had previously that night. He can have a revelation later, he reminds himself; Majima still needs care.
He brings the towel back to Majima's sleeping form and presses it against the skin on his neck until the blood clots. He also takes a wet washcloth and wipes down Majima's body, then takes care of cleaning himself up in the bathroom.
It's nearly morning by the time Majima wakes up. Kiryu, although relaxed and satisfied by their activities, doesn't feel a pressing need for sleep. He had tried to lay down next to the man, but sleep never came, even after hours of lying still. So he did the next best thing and got prepared for Majima to (hopefully) wake up. He visited a 24 hour convenience store and stocked up on sports drinks and various food items, then returned and cleaned up the mess they had made the night prior.
He's busy studying himself in the mirror, watching with fascinating curiosity as he wills his fangs to come and go, when a spider's web swings his head in the direction of the hall. Majima stands there, naked, bruised to hell, watching him. It takes a couple seconds of them blinking at each other, Majima sweeping his eye over his figure and seemingly studying him, for Kiryu to realize his mouth is still open and his fangs are still out. He wills them to recede before snapping his mouth shut.
He barely blinks before Majima is in his face, sticking his fingers in his mouth and prying his lips open. "H-hey!"
"Haw? Where'd they go?"
"What?" he tries to say around the fingers in his mouth.
"Yer fangs, dumbass. I wanna see 'em."
Kiryu could argue against him. He could try to play dumb. But he figures it would be a wasted venture; Majima, despite his crazed persona, was more witty than to be fooled by something he quite obviously saw. Besides, he still had the tell-tale scabs on his neck. Wait. "The mosquito bites," he says. He's finally pieced things together.
Majima quirks an eyebrow at him. "The...mosquito bites?" he asks hesitantly.
Kiryu sighs and pulls Majima's hands away from his mouth. "It's a long story."
"Well, Kiryu-chan, I've got all day, right after ya fucked me and drank my blood last night."
He convinces Majima to take a shower first, then get some clothes on and have one of the convenience store bentos before he explains. Majima kisses him, then wrinkles his nose and says, "Ya taste like copper," before jumping into the steaming shower stall.
Kiryu takes the time that Majima's busy to go over everything in his head, slowly piecing things together. He also takes the opportunity to brush his teeth.
"So yer tellin' me thatcha woke up, middle of an alley, half-dead, with obvious bite marks on yer neck, and you thought it was a mosquito bite?" Majima says between bites of rice.
"Two mosquito bites," Kiryu corrects him.
"Two mosquitoes—Kiryu-chan, I think yer the only person in goddamn world who wakes up with bite marks and thinks the obvious conclusion is a pair of mosquitos."
They sit in silence for several moments, Majima chewing on a piece of meat. "Wait, so if you got turned by bein' bitten...and ya bit me pretty hard last night...then am I a vampire?"
"No," Kiryu answers quickly. "At least, I don't think so. I can hear your heartbeat pretty easily, but I can't hear mine."
"Fer shame. Here I was, thinkin' we'd get to go terrorize Kamurocho together. Well, at least ya can keep givin' me mind-blowin' orgasms with those fangs of yers."
"What, you don't wanna continue this?"
Kiryu blushes—at least, he thinks he does. "That's not what I-...what do you mean by my fangs?"
"All I'm sayin' is that I think last night was the hardest I've ever come in my life. And besides, 'till ya find a reliable blood source, I'd be willin' to stick my neck out for ya!" Majima lets out a shrill cackle at his own joke. Kiryu just scowls at him.