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Pure Love in Sotenbori

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Kiryu’s first encounter with Sotenbori's infamous, eyepatch-wearing "Lord of the Night" was a memory that filled him with embarrassment and glee. In the midst of a gloomy, heavily-showered night, there were two, severely damaged, overworked men that decided to spend the sliver of free time they had by preambling through the bustling crowds of drunken nightcrawlers into the shady nooks of their opposing regions. Walking into their respective city’s telephone club forced the strategic alignment of the stars to unravel the strings of fate, connecting the line from Tokyo to Osaka. 

Having surprised each other by not immediately hanging up at the low tone of another man's voice, the fools shared amusement at the rare situation; laughter turned into a philosophical, hushed conversation lasting well into the early morning. The striking resemblances of particular aspects in their lives were almost too coincidental, down to the needy townspeople constantly hounding them down and the unfortunate fact that they were both shackled somehow into working these honest-but-not-really jobs.

Yet, the revelation of their shared ties to the Tojo Clan and the empty lot were not discovered until much later into their budding friendship.

They had gone on to exchange contact information after that telephone club debacle, and continued keeping in touch until Kiryu eventually found himself pestered into driving down to the bustling entertainment district of Sotenbori.

Majima made good on his implored promises and proved himself to be an extraordinary tour guide. He provided a gateway in which he instilled into Kiryu a desire to never return home, by introducing the starstruck real estate agent to a seafood-centric blend of traditional and modern Osakan cuisine, steering him across the heavily-populated bridge above the city's river with the best view of the setting sun, and presenting the two, lavish cabaret clubs he was in charge of managing.

The unrivaled Grand was well-staffed, highly-embellished, and considered to be the "Pride of Sotenbori", but when it came down to indulging in bantering chats and fizzy beverages, Kiryu found himself magnetized towards Club Sunshine, due to its smaller scale, humble atmosphere, and pleasantly distinctive hostesses. The jittery, but adorable Yuki grew to be his favorite of the charming bunch in no time, probably because she happened to be just as awkward as he was in the presence of the opposite sex, but Kiryu would never admit it; there wasn't a chance in hell she'd allow him to live it down.

After spending the night partying with the girls and singing his dorky heart out with an equally enthused Majima, Kiryu made it a mission to continue dropping by whenever he found time to spare. He liked the more laid-back, western equivalent to Kamurocho, as well as spending time with the enigmatic, but genuine Majima. When he wasn’t bending over backwards to alleviate tensions between belligerent, wealthy customers and his own staff at the Grand, the guy owned the no-bullshit, badass image he had concocted for his overbearing employer and staff. He was greatly respected among his workers for being strict and business-savvy, but it only took a few visits for Kiryu to catch onto his weakness for cheesy, disco music, sweet kids that stared longingly at arcade UFO machines, and the sense of justice steering his decisions when people were wronged by corrupted, underworld workers. He noticed a particular sparkle that would reflect in Majima’s eye when they’d finish busting up street thugs that came looking for fights, and when thankful citizens begged for them to accept their gratitude. Not like either of them cared for it. It was just another, eerily similar trait they shared, and having someone else around to shoulder the burden of playing “the big hero” to the townsfolk was an experience that Kiryu didn't get in Kamurocho; maybe that was why he kept coming back. He so often dealt with people’s issues that he felt he needed to escape, if only for a fleeting moment.

Kiryu had lost count of how many times he’s visited Sotenbori at this point, but it was impossible to resist. At some point, Majima had gone out of his way to set aside a table in the Grand for the two of them to relieve stress and poke fun at their sad lives over a resplendent bottle of gold champagne. Club Sunshine was fun, but when the men were saddled with the grief that accompanied bad days, that quiet, little corner on the upper half of "Sotenbori's best" was a sanctuary. They’d shared more conversations in that spot, some deep, some stupid. Often, they would sit and stare at each other, until one of them cracked. Once, Majima was pulled away from their innumerable, moping sessions to resolve an issue between a new hire and an infuriated customer that was caught trying to hustle the club out of free alcohol. While the situation had been fixed without their profits dipping with a crowd of customers and staff alike applauding Majima’s tactful grace, it was the image of said manager walking back up that illuminated, spiral staircase drenched in wine while bitterly flipping off a laughing Kiryu that had made the memory so vivid that the younger man found himself smiling as he thought back on that night with immense joy. It was juvenile, but they sure had fun. Kiryu was convinced that any little corner in the world would do, so long as Majima was with him.

Their secluded island was located on the second floor of the cabaret, tucked away at a clandestine angle with a curved, crimson seat that allowed two people at most to squeeze in. The older man mentioned on a chance call that he'd come around later than usual, suggesting that Kiryu meet him at the Grand and that he start drinking the prepared bottle without him. Between managing two establishments, keeping his boss decently happy, and dealing with the guilt of nearly murdering an innocent girl for a shot at returning to his previous family, Kiryu didn’t blame Majima for always being so busy. He briefly pondered over the possible explanations for his friend’s delay: could he have been caught up in another homicide scheme? Or was it just a matter of irked punks wanting an outlet to let off some steam? Either way, Majima always handled whatever trial he was given with precision and speed. Kiryu put off his worry and popped open the glittery bottle sitting in a tub of ice.

While he sipped at the bubbly beverage, the real estate agent found himself sighing; by now, Majima would be slouched beside him, bow tie tossed unceremoniously onto the table with the first two buttons of his ironed, white shirt undone. Kiryu almost missed the bitter muttering as Majima drowned his sorrows by chugging an icy glass of gold. The pair were so used to pressing up against each other that it didn't occur to Kiryu just how tight the space actually was. It wasn't until a crass, wild-eyed man sporting a lascivious grin and about a dozen, greenish-purple bruises running along the left side of his face and disappearing underneath his black collar stood before him that Kiryu felt immensely claustrophobic.

"Why the long face, darlin’? Prince Charming stand ya up?"

Kiryu acknowledged the strange man covered in cuts and contusions and noticed he was suddenly invading his personal space, uncaring of Kiryu’s comfort as he pressed himself into the side of the where Majima should be. His raked his beady eyes over the real estate agent's form, causing Kiryu to avert his gaze to his own lap. He hated being scrutinized, but it was more anxiety-inducing in this situation. It felt like he was being hungrily eyed by a vulture, as if he was a juicy portion of meat to be devoured.


"Majima-kun's runnin' kinda late, ain't he? An’ he goes ‘round callin’ himself a fuckin’ gentleman! Leavin' such a cutie all by himself... yer 'Kiryu-chan', ain'tcha? Could smell that brawler’s aura from a mile away! Wanna throw down?”

Kiryu was unsure if he was more stunned by the sensation of the mile-per-minute gutter-mouth grabbing him around the shoulders or by the fact that Majima was supposedly talking about him when he wasn't around. What has he been saying? What was there to tell? Good things, Kiryu hoped. Either way, he remained silent as his brain processed what was going on, how Majima knew this man, what he could possibly contribute to the one-sided conversation, and why this red-suit decided to pop a squat at his table, out of the entire establishment.

"Not big on words, huh? S'all the same with me! So, ya wanna go at it while we wait?"


Kiryu's brain rattled at the situation he was cornered in. While we wait? That couldn't mean that this guy was planning on staying here long after Majima arrived, would it? And he wanted to throw down? Like, right now? Also, why has Majima been raving about his ass-kicking abilities? "I don't really fight people, without a reason... who are you?”

A loud, screech-like cackle escaped the strange man at the reaction. He smacked Kiryu once on the back, then leaned in, their noses touching. As if they weren’t already pressed up against each other.

"Name's 'Nishitani', gorgeous. I'm a big, ol’ yakuza with my own group o’ cronies an’ shit, so be a good boy, and follow Daddy’s orders!" Nishitani donned a toothy grin as he jerked a thumb to the left of his blazer, proudly displaying an Omi Alliance pin, jutting out on his lapel. Kiryu was a fool for not noticing the brass badge earlier.

"Y’ain’t gonna make me beg, are ya? Didn't peg Majima-kun to be the type to fall for such a tease, but I guess it suits that haughty face!" Nishitani moved his hands down to Kiryu's wrists, ready to drag the reluctant man down the staircase. "C’moooon, I gotta see yer damn moves! Ya got the love o’ my damn life droolin' all over ya an’ I hafta know why! Just a quickie by the stage, huh, sugar?”

Kiryu believed that indulging the man in a bloody brawl would be the quickest way to get him to leave, but he was also painfully aware of the Grand's strict, “customer is king” policy that even Majima was forbidden to disobey; he bore witness to all the times his friend could have decimated the floor with all the small-time thugs and loudmouths the club lets in, but bound as he was to the golden rule, begged for forgiveness and got on his knees for the business. Kiryu refused to cause trouble for the sake of indulging in his selfish desire to be left alone, so he shook his head, surprising the persistent yakuza into loosening the grip on his wrists.

“I'm not going to fight you.”


Kiryu's eyes narrowed at the other man, his annoyance clear as the amber liquid in his glass. He wanted to get rid of the oddball, but he also seemed to be an acquaintance of Majima's. He wasn’t going to risk making a bad impression on a man that Majima was on friendly terms with. What would that say about him?


“Boo! Why can't ya?"

Kiryu's silence and exasperatedly firm state was enough for the older man to accept that he just wasn't going to get what he wanted. Nishitani dejectedly slumped back into the previously occupied seat, narrow eyes glued on the younger man's face. At first, aggravation had emerged following the rejected offer. Then, as quickly as he sat down and made himself comfortable, a demonic grin split Nishitani's face in two. He gripped Kiryu's hairless chin, the pressure painful as he lifted the other's face.

"Ya really got that killer look to ya... ahh! I think I get it now," Nishitani observed, the color of his eyes dark and unreadable as he slowly inched closer, focusing on the depths of Kiryu’s widened eyes. The older yakuza could definitely read the despair in his gaze, judging by the fact that Kiryu could feel his own heart hammering nervously in his chest. He tried pulling away, shifting until his back hit the wall at the end of the booth, but the hold on his face was unforgiving; he was certain that any further resistance would provoke a fight.

"Kiryu-chan, I changed my mind! Let’s fuck instead!”


Kiryu squirmed against the older man, eyes shooting open when he felt a warm tongue lave over his tightly pursed lips. He winced at the gross slick coating his mouth, pressing a hand against the red fabric of Nishitani's suit to retrieve some space between them. He rapidly wiped at his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, a scene that only pulled another joyous cackle out of the other man.

"No!" Kiryu protested, frustrated at that stupid policy of Majima's, the newfound intensity in the air, and the fact that he was cornered at the curve of the booth with Nishitani directly in front of him. He couldn’t even run if he wanted without throwing punches, or flailing like a madman. It seemed like the pleasure-driven man had grown even more delighted at Kiryu's internal conflict of wanting to fight, but forgoing his natural instincts to protect his friend's position. Where they were situated, no one would be able to see or hear anything. This table was meant for Majima and Kiryu to hide away and be unbothered by the outside world as they confided their problems to one other. The waitstaff and hostesses never came over; they knew better.

“What, above a little tongue?”


"It’s like killin’ two birds with a real sharp stone: I get to have some fun, an’ we can kill time waitin’ on Majima-kun together!”

A sharp bite on Kiryu's ear alerted the younger man of impending doom, the flow of blood being lapped up as soon as it was drawn. Kiryu screwed his eyes shut at the sting, a torn whimper escaping his lips as Nishitani groaned delightfully into his ear.

What exactly was his plan? Nishiki always worried about him never putting his mind where his fists were, and only in moments of danger does Kiryu ever regret diving headfirst into battle without a tactical approach. He hated when his brother was right.

"Even yer blood's nice an’ tasty! Ya bleed reaaal pretty, Kiryu-chan! I can't wait to beat the shit outta ya," the Omi affiliate panted, gripping the back of Kiryu's head and pressing their lips together for a sloppy kiss. The slimy feeling of another tongue tangling with his own made Kiryu gag; with the way Nishitani was gripping onto him, he was locked firmly in place. Startled by the sudden grip on his thighs, Kiryu tried aimlessly to wiggle away, but found there really wouldn’t be an escape unless he resorted to violence. All he could really do was sit there and take it, desperately hoping the other man would realize Kiryu wasn't worth it and leave him alone. Nishitani pulled back for a breath, wiping the trail of saliva away from Kiryu's mouth with his thumb. "Or fuck the shit outta ya... I could blow a load either way!"

'Why do I always end up in these types of situations?’ Kiryu thought bitterly to himself as he glanced over Nishitani's shoulder. A tall figure stood frozen just a few feet before them. The materialized appearance of a prim and proper, tuxedo-clad man had Kiryu frozen in place; Majima had shown up at the nick of time, his sole eye finally catching Kiryu's shame-ridden gaze after he'd soaked in the scene before him. Gritting his teeth, the club manager wasted no time as he swiftly stalked forward, hooking two fingers into the back of Nishitani's collar and aggressively chucking him away from the unwilling Kiryu, and onto the floor with a heavy thud!

"Who's blowin' what, now?" Majima growled, challenging the red-suited yakuza with a fiery glint in his eye. "The flyin' fuck are ya doin' here, Nishitani? I already told ya I ain't got time for this shit!"

The floored Kijin Clan patriarch glanced up at his attacker, eyes sparkling with newfound interest at the appearance of his recently declared object of affection. Sitting up from his position on the carpeted floor, Nishitani adopted a look of faux innocence on his diabolically twisted face.

"Ya know what that look does to me, sweet stuff," Nishitani purred, reaching up to claw at the other man's ankle. His fussing was promptly kicked away. "Aww, why ya actin' so cold, Majima-kun? I had to go lookin' for some new meat after ya went and abandoned me in the middle of a fight!" Nishitani stood, patting the imagined dust off his blazer and pants. He motioned to Kiryu with a jerk of his thumb. "'Lo and behold, I run into a nice, tender slice right here! I wanted to screen 'im, make sure he's good enough for ya, but yer li’l crush wasn't down with it! Didn't wanna make a scene! Sooooo boring!"

Kiryu jumped when Majima side-stepped the depressing lump on the floor and offered his hand for the younger man to grab.

"Sorry 'bout that, Kiryu-chan," Majima appeared sincerely apologetic as he pulled the other man out from the seat, his eye narrowed at the sight of the gnawed ear Nishitani had latched onto. Kiryu slapped a hand over the wound when he noticed Majima staring, feeling a brewing pot of anxiety well up in his gut. An exasperated sigh escaped the older man's lips as he pressed slender fingers to his temple, already feeling a migraine beginning to form its stabbing ritual. "’S’all cause I been runnin’ ragged all over town — anyway, I’m late, our hideout's been compromised, and ya had to meet this nutcase... ya wanna get outta here?"

Sotenbori was Majima's cage, but he knew how to make the most of a bad situation. He was well-acquainted with all the dark alleys, tight corners, and best spots to watch the sun go down.

Anywhere they'd end up would be worth it.

"We oughta blow ‘is joint," Kiryu didn't even attempt to mask his grin when Majima's face melted into blinding radiance, Kiryu's eyesight be damned. There was a harmonious elation that one experienced after looking at this particular man’s happy face.

"Ya been hangin' around me too long! I'll have ya slurrin' yer speech like a local in no time, Kiryu-chan!"

“Or you could find an actual local to tutor me.”

Majima grasped his heart with a look of feigned offense, wincing at the blow to his ego.

“Cold, Kiryu-chan,” the hunched over man with an eyepatch wheezed, pulling a reactive chuckle out of Kiryu, who was already starting to feel better. “Yer cold as ice.”

“Don’t act like you can’t dish it out.”

Majima snickered as he pinched the younger man's cheek, receiving a light punch to the rib. The taller of the two slung his arm around Kiryu's shoulder, guiding the way towards the staircase. Majima nearly tripped over himself when the once-forgotten Nishitani grabbed at his ankle yet again, reminding the duo of his obnoxious presence.

"The two of ya leavin' me behind? What's up with that? Take me wiiiiiith! I haven't finished my biz with Kiryu-chan! My night can’t end without a fight!" Nishitani whined, tugging at his brawling companion's pant leg with the fervor of a training puppy begging to be let into its master's bedroom. Majima crouched to meet Nishitani's height, grabbing a fistful of his crinkled, black collar, and violently smashed his forehead against the other's with all his might, causing a resounding CRACK! to bounce around the upper floor of the cabaret. Standing, the single-eyed thug delivered a strong kick to Nishitani's sternum, the pained cry cut short as he choked on air. Kiryu watched as the handsy yakuza crashed into their booth, the commotion alerting the waitstaff and plenty of curious patrons from the first floor. The patriarch was out of commission, his body slumped against the table he had flown into courtesy of the vicious heat move Majima whipped him with.

”How’s that for a finale?” Majima exhaled, feeling Kiryu hurriedly pull him away by the elbow.

“What happened to ‘no fighting, the customer is always king’?” Kiryu inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Last I checked, ‘Kiryu-chan’ ain’t on our menu,” Majima replies flippantly, slicking a stray strand of hair back into its place. “He’s no customer of mine.”

The two of them began to slither their way out of the Grand relatively undetected, despite the disturbance. As they descended from the second floor, Kiryu could have sworn he heard Majima whisper something under his breath about how one shouldn't be touching what doesn’t belong to them.


The first thing on their agenda was to find food; it was only a matter of seconds before both men decided what they needed in their bellies, like, yesterday. Majima paid for the takoyaki because he felt he owed it to Kiryu for arriving later than what he had promised, and also being involved in matters that acquainted him with the crazed Nishitani. They had wound down by the rickety staircase on the river when all was said and done. Kiryu was seated on the ledge beside the riverbank with Majima next to him, mouth full of steaming takoyaki and eye welling up with large, unshed tears. He huffed as he made fanning motions with his hand, guiding air towards his open mouth. The childish display caused Kiryu to laugh.

"You're so stupid," Kiryu snickered, passing an opened bottle of water towards his panicking companion. Said companion grabbed the bottle wordlessly and gulped down the contents, soothing his burning throat. "You know that always hurts."

"Couldn't wait," Majima wheezed, rubbing at his leaking eye. "It's so good."

"But at what cost?"

"My poor taste buds.”

Kiryu rolled his eyes.

“Some things are worth burnin’ for.”

The younger man blinked at the philosophy, the contemplative look on his friend’s face, and figured that they were no longer discussing the quality or temperature of the street food. He gently pressed his thumb over the slightly reddened flesh of Majima’s forehead with which he had brutally cracked Nishitani’s skin. The wince Kiryu captured notified him of the residual ache Majima inflicted onto himself with the brutality of that head-butt.

“What if the owner had been there?” The younger man asked, his brows furrowed with concern at the vivid memory of the violent conflict earlier that day. “He wouldn’t have allowed something like that to slide; he even came up with that rule, didn’t he?”

“Aw, fuck ‘im. Nishitani, too. Everything’s connected an’ this whole city’s a trash fire.”

”Okay... bad day?”

”Ain’t been good in a while,” Majima tiredly answered, pressing the heel of his palm into his temple, attempting to alleviate the building pressure.

”I feel that.”

Kiryu felt an elbow nudge his side and glanced at his friend to find him smiling back at him.

”I can suck it up and be a big boy when yer here.”

Kiryu shook his head.

“You don’t have to shoulder all that stress on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Good. Feeling’s mutual. No fakin’ smiles around me, got it?”

“You got it.”

Silence fell between them in a matter of seconds; Kiryu, not knowing what to say, decided to remain speechless as he mulled over what had transpired tonight. The whole situation was mind-numbing; everything happening back home in Tokyo from the empty lot, faceless assassin, Kazama’s position as family captain, and his involvement with all of the key players was a mess; now here he was in the Kansai entertainment district trying to forget about all of it. Nishiki is always on his ass about never asking anyone for help, but when Kiryu finally asks, the very same people begging for Kiryu to rely on them end up getting hurt. He found himself asking ‘what was the point?’ more than he ever has in his life. He decided that coming down to Sotenbori to see, hear, and spend time with Majima would make him feel better. The Nishitani thing just cemented the festering theory that coming to Sotenbori was a bad thing. He could feel a faint nausea ebb at the back of his throat at the memory of those blood-stained hands gripping at him in fervor.

The feathery touch against his ear broke his trance.

"Why d'ya let him do this?”

"Why were you late?”

Majima and Kiryu turned to each other at the same time, startled by their unison questioning.


"You first.”

Majima hunched over as he stared at the grassy patches on the ground. He pressed his lips together like he was thinking hard about what he was going to say or how to frame it.

"He's always tryin' to start shit, y'know? With me. He's got this internal 'Goro-radar'. The nut-job gets off on fightin’ power or whatever," Majima messily explained, looking more and more distressed as he relayed the information he had to a disturbed-looking Kiryu. "At some point, he found out about ya? I dunno. I guess I make it kinda obvious when I hear you're comin' to town, and I was real busy earlier; I'm all over the place before ya even show up. First, I had a run in with my piss-drinkin’ dictator of a boss, then some asshole was makin’ a scene at Sunshine, harrassin’ my girls, and after finishing up there, Nishitani jumped my ass while I was leavin’. I already spent like, two hours or some shit at home—“ Majima cleared his throat, stopping short of completing his sentence like he was going to spill a huge secret. ‘At home’...? He ran his fingers over another stray strand of hair that fell into his face. Kiryu could make out a slight tinge of red adorning his friend's pale complexion. The real estate agent shifted, noticing now how close they were sitting beside each other. It was never a problem before but in this moment, he was sickly aware of their proximity. He could hear the sound of his heart beating; it was deafening.

“I was also gettin’ wrung back ‘n forth between folks, y’know how it goes, they just rope me in, askin’ fer help, and I don’t really got a reason to say ‘no’, so the time just flies. Nishitani comes around, I wasn't in the mood for a fight, so I give him the slip and made a break for an escape. That's when I gave ya a ring about meeting me at the Grand.”

Majima looked frazzled, like he'd really done nothing but run around all day. Stray strands of ebony hair decorated his friend's forehead, some were long enough that they framed his high cheekbones. The club manager went back to his tray of food, picking a fried ball of octopus batter and taking time to actually blow at it. It didn't even occur to Kiryu that his constant visits would distress the older man in any way, like it couldn't have been a possibility. Before Kiryu even opened his mouth, Majima shoved the cooled takoyaki ball in between his lips, silencing the apology before it came. The Lord of the Night grinned when Kiryu obediently chewed on his piece of food.

"I don't wanna hear it, Kiryu-chan. Ya got enough goin' on back home; I don’t got any problems with ya escapin' to Sotenbori to relax every now and then, ‘specially if you’re comin’ down to spend it with me. Take it from ol’ Goro, I'm an expert at runnin’ away."

If Kiryu hadn't been eating, he might have choked up at the sentiment, already feeling the weight of the ‘Tojo Clan-Tachibana’ situation bearing harder on his shoulders. He released a trembling sigh, turning his face away when he felt Majima shift beside him. The almost non-existent sound had alerted the older man, who was never good in situations where people were anxious or bawling their eyes out. He never knew what to do, how to make them stop, how to make it better. It hurt when the suffering came from someone he cared about. Cherished, even. Majima had placed a hand on the small of Kiryu's back and made subtle pats, timing the action with Kiryu's breaths.

"Ya wanna tell me what happened earlier?" Majima asked, trying to angle his head so he could get a glimpse of Kiryu's face. "I know ya got a stingin' swing, Kiryu-chan. Why didn't ya fight him off, huh?"

"I couldn't make a scene. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. It’s hard enough as it is with Sagawa breathing down your neck with all the weekly payments and any little thing could set him off and extend your sentence," Kiryu mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. He sighed, refusing to meet his friend’s eye. "It also seemed like it wasn't Nishitani’s first time badgering someone that knew you, and well, if he was a friend, I didn’t want to... make a bad impression... I guess?”

It sounded even stupider when Kiryu put his actions to words.

There was a harsh grip on Kiryu's wrist that startled the younger man. Majima, as handsy as he was, never held him this way before. The incident at the Grand earlier had annoyed Kiryu more than anything, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he would have been in deeper waters if Majima hadn't shown up to put a stop to it. Kiryu was too stubborn to change his mind once it was made up. They both knew that.

"God," Majima huffed, his brows tightly pressed together. His eye fixed Kiryu with a disappointed glare. "What, were ya just gonna let him have his way with ya? It woulda been more trouble than he's worth, ya idiot! Reckless, that’s what ya are. I was lucky to run in when I did... had I been held up just a few minutes longer... and who told ya to shut up and let some fuckin’ dickhead run his grubby, little fingers all over ya? And for my sake... why...” Before Kiryu could say anything, he was tugged into the other's arms, and being squeezed like Majima was fearing for his life. He could feel the taller of the duo press his face on top of his head. “Kiryu, there ain’t a reputation in the world that’s worth puttin’ ya through somethin’ like that. Not one!”


"Like hell... fuck it all, I ain't ever gonna give ya up, hear me? You're mine, Kiryu-chan."

Kiryu felt his stomach do a flip at the intensity of Majima's tone, and the seriousness of those words. He couldn't deliver anything intelligible, so Kiryu opted to bury his face in the other man's shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as he listened to the deep breaths Majima took; other than their own voices, the river was quiet. Even the tiniest of sounds echoed loudly in their ears.

"Screw that rule, and anybody who tries to touch you. I'll kill 'em. I'd kill 'em all, anyone who so much as looks at ya," Majima growled, the pressure of his palms firm as he smoothed the fabric of Kiryu’s blazer down. The tension in the club manager’s voice counterbalanced the soothing motion of rubbing Kiryu’s back with deliberate tenderness. Slight vibrations under stilled fingertips drew Majima's attention away from his violent threat against the entirety of the world, and he showed confusion for a second before he realizing that it was laughter bubbling out of the shorter man.

What was he worrying about all this time?

"...fuck you laughin' at?" Majima grumbled, a slight blush forming on his high cheekbones as Kiryu peered tear-filled eyes up at him. His only response was to poke at the side of the older's man's face, the frown Majima wore stretching further at the silence.

"You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

"I could if it was an asshole," Majima pouted, the atmosphere regaining its unconcerning air from earlier. "Whaddaya gigglin’ for when I'm bein' all serious and shit? Bearin’ my goddamn soul out here and yer bustin’ a gut — I'm for real! Don’t let anyone touch ya like that again, okay? Swear!”

Kiryu's fingers toyed mindlessly with the silky ends of Majima's neatly tied ponytail, his eyes searching purposefully into the direct stare of the other man.

"Not even you?"

Majima released a trembling exhale, his demeanor bouncing between vulnerability and his animalistic desire. He wanted Kiryu terribly, all to himself, but above all else, he wanted the other man to want him too. More than anything. Even air. Fuck air.

"Only me."


Majima pressed his forehead against Kiryu's, his shoulders visibly slumping with the considerable force of an invisible weight being lifted off his person.

"I know... this ain't the best time, with everythin' goin' on," Majima muttered, his fingers finding solace in the entanglement of Kiryu’s own. "But I gotta tell ya how I'm feelin', ya know? I figured I had to go an’ say it at some point, might as well get it all out now. Gotta let your words do the work sometimes."

Kiryu squeezed Majima's hands reassuringly, ready to hear whatever the other man's prepared to share. He watched the silent process Majima went through as he steadied his breathing, his chest slowly rising to take in air, shoulders dropping as he released a stress-filled sigh. His face reddened slightly but the look he fixed Kiryu with was straightforward and full of confidence.

"I'm crazy about ya, Kiryu-chan."

Kiryu felt a dam of emotions burst within the confines of his chest, as if his heart had actually exploded at the mere sight of Majima’s sharp teeth gnawing nervously at his bottom lip. The younger man smoothed a hand down the other’s chest, palm resting just above the rapid thumping of an overworked heartbeat. Boy, was it running like a bullet train during rush hour.

“Ain’t a damn thing in the world that matters more to me than you.”

Majima’s hands slipped out of Kiryu’s hold, only to find a more befitting home on the sides of the younger man’s face, turning his gaze up to lock eyes. It was Kiryu’s turn to feel the rapid staccato beats of his own heart as they stared at each other. The shorter of the two felt the corners of his mouth perk up at the attention.

“You grinning at me, now?” Majima asked, the heavy force of hope being lost dissipating into the wind when Kiryu shook his head at his inquiry.

“Your accent’s slipping.”

Majima pouted.

“I’m just trying to decide if I should kiss you now or wait for later.”

Kiryu observed as his older companion swallowed a heavy lump in his throat and turned his face to nudge his nose against Kiryu’s.

“What’s happenin’ later?”

“Take me home and find out?” Kiryu cocked his head to the side, offering the clearly set in stone scenario for the duo. He reveled in the darkest shade of red he had ever seen Majima wear. The older man became noticeably flustered by the bold suggestion.

“Th’ hell... what’s with that sudden leap of progression? Whatever happened to the sweet stuff... holdin’ hands, kissin’, an’ junk?”

Kiryu pulled Majima in close by curling his fingers behind the older man’s neck. He steeled himself for the possible outcome of this ending terribly because of his inexperience, but he hoped with all of his might that perhaps his confidence would mask the sheer lack of skill that came with romance.

“Kisses now.”


Their lips joined together in a chaste mouth-press. As simple as it was, Kiryu felt electricity coarse through his veins at finally being able to hold Majima this way. The one-eyed slugger felt like he was running out of air as Kiryu wrapped looping arms around his neck and huddled impossibly close. Once again, along with Kiryu, Majima threw caution to the wind as he deepened the oral exchange, gently sucking at the younger man’s lower lip and prodding the entrance of Kiryu’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. Their senses were foggy as they desperately clung onto each other, the environment blurring around them in comparison to the task at hand. They pulled away when the need for air became impossible to ignore. Kiryu’s eyes were glazed, unfocused, and Majima couldn’t stop staring into them. He silently wiped at the glistening streak of saliva resting on the white-suited man, then took a minute to gauge their surroundings. It was just a little after the sun went down, and their location by the river was often unpopulated, but Majima wouldn’t feel right exposing Kiryu to public displays of risqué affection, not counting the last few minutes. Mainly because he didn’t want anyone to see how dazzling the city boy was. Especially post-make out.

Majima stood, his hand tugging onto one of Kiryu’s, prompting the him to follow suit.

“Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

Kiryu’s face scrunched up at the prospect of having to go back to Kamurocho after getting their feelings sorted and all.

“I don’t want to.”

Majima raised a brow at the show of petulance.

“Wasn’t I gonna take ya back to my place?”

Kiryu beamed and hopped onto his feet in an instant.


“So flippin’ simple,” the older man teased, gathering their trash and dumping the remains of their snack into a nearby bin before leading Kiryu up the metal staircase. “Ya ain’t gonna be smilin’ like that when ya see the crib. It ain’t much of a sight. Could barely walk five feet, wall to wall, let alone get a good night’s sleep.”

Kiryu’s right arm slid around Majima’s left as they settled into a synced walking cycle. The proximity had both of their overactive minds spinning and colliding with all the erotic possibilities that two, young men could dream up.

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway,” Kiryu mentioned, grinning as he noticed the taller man’s expression change from curious to overbearing delight. They were young. Some things mattered more than others. In this case, sleep was a prospect that held less importance than getting laid.

“Watch it,” Majima muttered, his pace quickened as they rounded a familiar corner towards his home. The vibrantly lit shops illuminating the path to his residential alleyway felt like they were giving off excessive heat, but it could’ve just been a fragment of his deluded imagination due to the way Kiryu was clinging onto him. “Ya talk a big game, but I know yer pure as a sheet o’ printer paper.”

“I am not! I’ve done stuff,” Kiryu protested, knowing full well that even if Majima couldn’t see his face, he must’ve been able to detect the pitch in his tone. Damn his inability to believably fib. The older man chuckled at his response, pulling Kiryu towards the staircase that led up to his apartment.

“With who, that pretty boy kyodai of yers?” Majima prodded, pulling his door open after fumbling with the keys for what felt like three minutes. “What’d you two knuckleheads get up to? Spin the bottle?”

“Not telling.”

Majima glanced at Kiryu’s face, taking in the adorable crease in his furrowed brows and pursed, pink lips as youthful embarrassment. He reached out and pinched lovingly at the residual baby fat in the other’s cheek.

“I’m not knockin’ on the status, Kiryu-chan. Experience don’t mean shit.”

They were inside now and the door was locked. It was just the two of them in the tiny apartment, with only the large window connecting them to the outside world. The moonlight streamed through the slightly parted curtains, draping the round table and the floor in a soft glow. When the light switch casted the space in an artificial sunlight, Kiryu found that he preferred the moon. He also half-expected Majima to pounce on him the minute he had secured the lock on the entrance but was surprised to see the other man carefully removing his black jacket and hanging it up in the closet. He turned to face Kiryu, who removed his own jacket and handed it to Majima’s outstretched hand, watching curiously as the older of the two patted any wrinkles out of the fabric before shutting the door. They locked eyes for a second before Majima cleared his throat and broke away, taking a step back to collect his thoughts. It was then that a look of recollection flashed across his single eye. Suddenly, Majima had two hands on Kiryu’s shoulders, guiding him towards the bathroom.

“Wanna take a shower? I’ll get ya somethin’ cozy to wear while yer scrubbin’ up.”

“What are you being so fidgety for?”

“Me? Fidgety? Please...”

Kiryu spun around and faced the nervous-looking manager, interlocking his hands behind Majima’s waist to essentially trap the older man, the unbuttoned fabric of his gaudy, orange dress shirt displaying an inviting score of cleavage.

“Can we take one after?” Kiryu asked, doing up his look of faux innocence by staring at the older man with those big, caramel peepers transmitting a well-defined message into Majima’s eye.

Thoroughly startled at the incessant affection, Majima felt all semblance of his crumbling resolve melt. He enjoyed the attention, but he felt that he was responsible for his own actions and decided that he wouldn’t do anything to make the other yakuza uncomfortable. Especially since he was older. There were certainly parts of his personality that remained old-fashioned, but the younger man was going at a lightning speed pace that he couldn’t grasp before running out of breath.

“... a-after what?” He squeaked, internally slapping himself for behaving so fidgety when it was Kiryu he was always putting his best face on for.

Kiryu laughed again, feeling the stresses of the previous events no longer burdening his mind as Majima trembled with a vast weakening resolve to control himself.

“I’m still baffled at how charming you can be,” Kiryu mused, feeling his cheeks heat up at the phrasing of his oncoming compliment, hoping that an asteroid from space would be so kind as to crash into the apartment and kill him on impact, if only to stop the further attempts at embarrassing himself. “Sometimes it feels like you really are a prince.”

“Just kidding,” he quickly added, the tips of his ears matching the pink manifesting on his cheeks as he mentally damned himself for being so easily swept away.

Time screeched to a stop as Majima dug through his internal library, searching for the one, good deed, a gilded achievement that he must have accomplished during his short time on this earth to warrant the blessing of meeting Kiryu Kazuma.

“C’mere,” Majima beckoned, lightly tugging on the leather belt holding up Kiryu’s awful, pinstriped slacks. The height difference allowed Majima to comfortably dip his head as he captured those pair of perfectly soft lips for another fiery kiss. They remained tangled against each other, unbothered by outside disturbances as they were contained within the confines of a private space. Kiryu felt tingles all throughout his body, previously unaware of the inexplicable pleasure that can be achieved through the basic act of kissing another person, but it could have just been because he was locking lips with Majima, who was now the only being in his immediate circle of friends that he wanted to share this type of intimacy with. They broke the mishmash of tongue and lips to take in a heaving breath. Majima looked like a famished wolf as he stared Kiryu down, his chest rising, stuttering, falling with unsteady in- and exhales.


“Ya really wanna keep goin’?”

Kiryu nodded feverishly, already craning his head up to take in another taste of the other man’s lips.

“Gimme a sec, awright?”

Majima went out the front door and disappeared for a minute, much longer than Kiryu would have liked, but upon return, all was forgiven. He had come in with a futon, blankets, and plopped them into the hands of a slack-jawed Kiryu.

“Is bad timing going to be a habit of yours?”

“If someone hadn’t distracted me earlier, I woulda had the bed made! I mean, I went outta my way to tidy up an’ everything...”

“Don’t tell me that’s what kept you earlier... getting this place cleaned up?”

“Don’t even get me started — look, I ain’t the neatest guy around, but I mean, on the off chance ya wanted to sleep over one o’ these days, I had to get used to makin’ my pad at least look livable... it’d be real shameful for ya to come over and not be comfortable.”

”Majima-san...” Kiryu began, stopping short of his pathless comment when the older man leaned in and planted a short kiss on the tip of his nose.


Kiryu’s face burned at the closeness and nodded as he watched Majima move away to retrieve pillows from the top shelf of a narrow closet. The apartment felt a lot smaller than his own in Tokyo, but it was acquired under the notion of being a resting dock rather than an actual home. Kiryu briefly thought about fixing up his own apartment when he returned in case Majima somehow makes it out of Sotenbori. The older man returned to stack the cloud-like cushions on top of the folded fabrics in Kiryu’s arms.

“I have to lay it out?” Kiryu sulked, wanting nothing more but to finally get down with some actual business. He was met with a light peck to the cheek. A reward for a tremendous show of patience.

“Relationships last longer when they run 50/50, doll,” the older man replied, grinning at the wave of arousal scrawled over the shorter yakuza’s face. “That’s what Yuki-chan says, anyway.”

“We’re in a relationship, now...?” Kiryu mumbled, feeling so starstruck at the revelation that he laid out the bedspread in a trance.

“What, ya been mackin’ on everyone an’ their mothers?” Majima teased, cackling as Kiryu hurled a pillow at him.

“Shut up! You know Nishiki and I aren’t like that,” Kiryu bristled, plopping down onto the fluffy bed he prepped single-handedly, with no help. “He’d kick your ass if you said something like that.”

Something to remember later...

“Aww, he got one o’ them brother complexes?”

Majima felt a curious gaze follow his every move as he clambered into the narrow bathroom. The door propped against his foot allowed for Kiryu to watch the madman rummage through the drawers. Tensions were at an all-time high in the tiny apartment as it adopted an air akin to a stifling concoction of nervous arousal.

“No, don’t.”


They made eye contact at the outburst, Kiryu anxiously tugging at the cuffs of his own shirtsleeves as Majima tilted his head to one side. He took heed of the apparent apprehension the younger man had on display and glanced down at his own shirt, appalled by the sight of his twitchy free hand that had been adamant on undoing his shirt buttons at lightning speed. He hadn’t even noticed.

“My bad, Kiryu-chan—”

“Your clothes... I want to do it.”



Figuring it would be better for the less experienced of the two to set the pace, Majima returned to the ‘living’ section of his apartment and knelt down before the seated youngster. Now facing each other on the cushion of the futon, Majima dropped rows of the mysterious items he scavenged onto the space between them. Kiryu’s eyes quizzically locked onto the handful of travel-sized lubricant sachets and various types of condoms. Majima felt his breath hitch and shortly mulled over what he was doing with his life when the Kanto-based yakuza curiously sifted through the supplies with an unreadable expression on his face. He felt just as vulnerable as a deer caught in the headlights.

“Stocked up in case someone wanted to spend the night?”

“Ya won’t believe this, but I happen to work at two, mega-popular cabaret clubs. I’m keepin’ this eye on my girls, ‘specially when they go off on ‘after hour’ dates with grabby horn dogs,” Majima generously informed, reaching over with one hand to caress the bruised state of the younger’s gnawed ear. The lobe was swollen and the flesh around the bitten skin was reddened and tender. Majima cursed himself for not showing up sooner; rather, he could have told Kiryu to meet him at Sunshine. He leaned in to kiss the wound, turning his head slightly to repeat the motion down the side of the other man’s face. The soothing, chaste pecks against his skin sent Kiryu reeling with desire, his eyes glazing over with a fog of immeasurable want. They were beasts in battle, given their natural talent in fighting, but the presentation of weakness and consideration proved that they were capable of exacting the same amount of prowess in simply loving. “It’s easy to keep business goin’ if ya encourage safety, right?”

Deft fingers reached for Majima’s half-undone shirt, making quick work of the last of his buttons. Kiryu willed himself to submerge into the stillness of the crisp, night air, the wavering breaths exchanged between them, and the exact moment he had been longing for since he first laid eyes on the Kansai-stationed yakuza. Majima allowed Kiryu to remove his shirt but had opened his mouth to protest when the younger man tossed it unceremoniously over his shoulder to topple down into a wrinkly mess on the tatami mat. Majima felt himself get locked firmly into place just as he began to rise when Kiryu pulled him down to lay directly on top of him. They could practically feel each other’s heartbeats with how firmly their chests stuck against one another. The proximity was suffocating and he was caught between ravishing the awaiting man underneath him and getting up to evaluate his next set of moves. Also to hang that shirt. He only had the one and Majima would be damned if he didn’t always iron it to wrinkle-free perfection.

“Ugh, leave it,” Kiryu pleaded, turning the older man’s face towards his own with a stern grip. The blown state of Kiryu’s pupils indicated that he was a hair’s width from losing his mind if they didn’t take care of the obvious sexual tension culminating between them. Majima felt the thrumming of his pulse in his temple as the younger man reached past his neck to undo the durable hair tie caging in the dark strands and observed the look of enamored absorption bloom across Kiryu’s face as lengthy waves of ebony cascaded over his shoulders. “I’ll take care of the shirt later,” Kiryu added breathlessly, his words blurted out at the speed of an auctioneer.

“Impatient, much?”

Majima deciphered the rapid nod as encouragement to lean in and capture those awaiting, heavenly lips he had been melting against moments ago. Forced by mankind’s greatest weakness of oxygen dependence, he traced the tip of his tongue across the roof of Kiryu’s mouth as they gathered their breath, awed by the vibrations of Kiryu’s startled moan. His hands raked up still-clothed ribs, admiring the lean muscle hidden beneath orange fabric. Fingers slipped under the flap of the unbuttoned portion and rested atop the short-haired man’s chest. Kiryu kissed like it was the only thing he wanted to do and all he wanted to know. His eyelids felt heavy and were a challenge to keep open, but he pressed on if only to stare up at Majima. They engaged in mindless tonguing, barely aware of anything else that didn’t involve running their hands all over each other and clumsily grinding their hips in tandem. It was Kiryu who reached down to finish undressing first, capable of only shedding himself from the sweltering heat of fabric. Majima eyed him like he was a man starved, depraved of all sustenance, and Kiryu was the first meal he’d seen in years.

He tossed his clothes in the same direction as Majima’s shirt, the discarded pile only briefly tugging at the older man’s hatred of disorganization. He would’ve gotten up to move the garments onto the table, but Kiryu had other plans. Suddenly, he was sitting up. He busied his hands by undoing Majima’s silver-accented belt, his heart thrumming excitedly at the prospect of sharing this intimate experience with the one person who meant the world to him. Kiryu was undoubtedly eager, and Majima made him feel exceedingly secure and safe, but he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Not a clue. He had absorbed bits and pieces from conversations he’s shared with people, skimmed magazines, and the occasional movie. Nothing truly prepared him for this moment.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Kiryu-chan?”

Majima put a firm hold on any further undressing when he descried the slight tremor as he retrieved his belt from Kiryu’s hand.


“Yeah? Well, quit it. This ain’t Tokyo, no one knows ya here. I don’t need ya to be thinkin’,” Majima whispered, laying the other down on his back and hiking those bare hips onto a fluffy cushion. “Not with me. I’m gonna take care of ya.”

Kiryu’s face became awash with a flurry of various shades of red at the manhandling, but he allowed the repositioning as the image of a flushed, messy-haired Majima opening a condom between his legs overwhelmed any invading thoughts of current events and pressing yakuza-related matters.

There was only one problem.

Majima groaned in defeat as he yanked the ill-fitted condom off of himself, leering at the useless instrument. Here he was, sitting before a flushed, splayed out Kiryu, legs gingerly parted to allow only Majima to settle between, blessing him with the most beautiful sight a man of his status could ever be granted of viewing, with no condom to speed things along. He felt just as pathetically hopeless as the poor soul in that Greek tragedy, cursed to forever experience starvation in a room where a blooming fruit tree hung its branches just out of reach.

“Under literally any other circumstance, this would be humblin’ as hell,” Majima gritted, staring down the man of his dreams with his shoulders slumping. “But right now? Not a fan of how huge my dick is.”

Kiryu chuckled at the projection of sheer modesty and kicked at the fang-baring snake on the older man’s left pectoral. Majima grasped his ankle and hiked the offending leg over one of his shoulders, spreading Kiryu’s thighs further apart.

“You’re going to rip me in half,” the younger man complained, jolting at the teasing graze of his companion’s finger nails tickling his ankle.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, junior? Kiss me?” Majima leaned down and nipped at the tip of Kiryu’s nose, prompting another bout of laughter.

“Stop messing around,” Kiryu snickered, he continued nudging with the heel of his trapped foot. “Toss it and come here.”

“Th’ hell are ya sayin’?” Majima sputtered, feeling his throat run dry at the suggestion. He reached down with one of his hands and patted Kiryu’s bare stomach. “Do ya know what spunk does to a man’s system? Yer gonna regret it.”

Kiryu’s hands tenderly crawled up the ink-covered limbs leading to Majima’s lean shoulders with the grace of a prey-stalking serpent. Dark eyes burned with the same intensity as crackling wood encased beneath waved flames, almost so overwhelming that Majima began to feel hot. He remained speechless, caught under the hard stare he was being fixed with while Kiryu dragged him down to bury his face into the crook of the older man’s neck.

“Nii-san,” the brat had the audacity to sensuously murmur at a volume only meant for him, plush lips brushing against the shell of Majima’s ear. The older man shuddered at the warmth of Kiryu’s breath, the deep croon of his melodious voice, and he dropped his hips to rest against that very man, pulling a breathy moan from Kiryu as he experimentally ground their energetic bottom halves together.

“Shut up,” Majima whined, turning his reddened face to bite at Kiryu’s cheek. “Ya ain’t allowed to call me that.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Kiryu shot back, meeting the man with a fireless glare following the uncalled for sting in his cheek, then proceeded to kiss along the sharp line of the other man’s jaw, marveling at the porcelain skin being illuminated by the night sky. Majima lived in a city of lights, but his apartment was situation opposite to a large building that blocked out the artificial glow of the lower street shops and neon signs. Only the moon cast its light past that building, and it encased Majima in the most captivating way.


“You said you were going to take care of me,” Kiryu reminded softly, his overheated body twitching at the sensation of grazing teeth and hitched breathing above his ear. His innocent kisses were awakening a voracious beast behind Majima’s gentlemanly facade and Kiryu hoped to call out to the older man’s most animalistic desires. “I wanna do it raw, nii-san.”

The uneven screech of thin aluminum being torn alerted Kiryu to search for the source of the silence-shredding noise. He glanced down to see Majima ripping into a packet of lubricant and pouring the lotion-like goop onto his fingers.

“Holler if it don’t feel right,” Majima instructed, his eye burning a serious hole into Kiryu’s heated gaze. The younger of the two nodded, twitching in surprise when the pad of a coated finger tip pressed firmly against his hole — Majima had his clean hand underneath Kiryu’s bottom, thoroughly enjoying the palmful of hot, supple flesh in his grasp. He rubbed his finger around the surrounding skin, lowly suggesting that Kiryu relax as best he could with slow breaths and waited as long as it took before carefully breaching his lover with all the tenderness of the world.

Kiryu’s eyes widened at the sensation of a finger being encased within his body, but it wasn’t completely unpleasant. A little uncomfortable and foreign, but he gave a silent nod as the go-ahead for Majima to keep going. While getting used to the feeling of being prodded and stretched, now with two fingers, Kiryu focused on his breathing. He had one fist tangled in the bedsheet, crinkling the freshly-made bedding with his sweaty palm. He hadn’t noticed how much pressure he was putting on his screwed shut eyes until Majima rubbed a thumb at the furrowed skin between his eyebrows.

“Y’okay, Kiryu-chan?”

Kiryu nodded, replacing his hold on the sheet to wrap around Majima’s wrist. The older man turned his hand around to interlace their fingers, encouraging the city boy to brace against him with as much force as he needed. For a while, those intruding fingers were repeating experimental, short thrusts. A cycle of push, pull, scissor, twist, and it was beginning to chafe. Kiryu felt like he needed move friction than what was being given. He shifted his hips, a small sound of breathless surprise escaping him when the very tips of those long fingers scraped that mystical bundle of nerves God decided to implant within him. Majima’s lips were on his the second they made eye contact, responding physically to his mental demands. He moved his hands to Majima’s unraveled hair, the smooth, healthy strands of black silk caressing his heated flesh. Their mouths were glued to each other’s as if they would die otherwise, Majima’s tongue was ravenously swirling around Kiryu’s own in ways the younger man didn’t think was possible. Kiryu felt his lover’s wrist twist at a different angle, his inserted fingers pushing further into Kiryu’s body, wrenching out a delighted cry.

Oh, wait,” Kiryu whimpered, his breathing labored as Majima moved his attention to the previously-ignored erection, twitching at his fevered ministrations. The older man had his thumb pressed against the mid-part underneath Kiryu’s glans, the skin glistening with pre-come. Through his foggy lens, nebulous with arousal, Kiryu could clearly see Majima’s darkened iris, nearly filled with black.

“Fuck, ya got so wet down here,” Majima observed, his voice filled to the brim with condensed excitement. Kiryu bit his lip when he felt those finger thrusting roughly within him, the stretch no longer an issue. He hiked his hips upward, rubbing himself against Majima’s wrist for some type of relief. The movement was answer enough to the unasked question of whether or not they should keep going.

“So cute,” Majima licked a trail from Kiryu’s burning neck to his chest, closing his mouth over a hardened nipple. The wet heat around the sensitive nub of flesh had Kiryu panting and twitching, his head going dizzy. “Damn, I don’t ever wanna stop.”

“Majima... uh,” Kiryu moaned semi-coherently, his fingers gripping the soft locks of hair as Majima assaulted his chest with thorough licks and sucks. Focused on paying close attention to the patches of golden skin he was certain would be visible the morning after, so long as he bit into it with purpose. “Ma... ah!”

Majima pulled his face back to watch the reddened spots of saliva-coated hickeys bloom underneath him. He had the gall to look proud of his work as Kiryu frowned at the marks that would undoubtedly show the next day.

“Aww, ya mad?” Majima grinned.

“You know how I feel about the top three buttons,” Kiryu sulked, tracing the kiss spots with his fingers.

“Ya don’t hafta button up,” Majima slyly suggested, pecking the corner of Kiryu’s pout with unfettered endearment. The response was a clear blush scrawled across the younger man’s cheeks. The idea of walking around town with his bare chest smothered in possessively-bestowed hickeys had Kiryu’s overworked heart skipping beats.

“I get to do it, too,” Kiryu compromised, pleased by Majima’s offer of leaning in and baring one side of his mark-free neck. Kiryu went for a single, clumsy attempt at a hickey, sucking too hard too fast, but Majima was just as immersed in the meaning behind the mark as the feeling. The older man tore into another packet of lube and felt elation at the look of pure anticipation on Kiryu’s face.

“Ya ready?” Majima asked, emptying the packet into his hand and lathering his dick with enough layers that it would be impossible to hurt Kiryu. At least he hoped it wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m kind of nervous,” Kiryu admitted, eyes shifting downward as Majima pulled his hips higher up on the pillow. The older man shushed the incessant pile of nerves that made up Kiryu Kazuma in this moment by pressing himself up against the softened flesh of his entrance and spent a minute getting used to the warmth that radiated between their bottom halves. The temporary stillness allowed Kiryu to gather enough courage to give Majima his sign to continue. Both men held their breaths as the slow push of penetration threatened their very hearts to explode on impact. Kiryu had his arms wrapped around Majima’s chest, his hands planted firmly around the eyes of the hannya woman tattooed across the older man’s back. Majima gasped once he was fully buried within Kiryu, the fluttering vibrations of those slimy, lubricated walls making him forget how words were formed. It was excruciatingly hot, flesh on bare flesh. He was melting. They looked at each other. Majima’s expression was a heady concoction of basic, animalistic desire and mesmerization. Kiryu felt his eyes sting at the look of pure longing aimed directly at him and was alerted at the unannounced wetness dripping down corners of his eyes. He hurriedly turned his face to the side, attempting to dry his cheek against the pillow under his head. He wasn’t slighted or sorrowful, so the unexplainable flow of tears frightened him. Majima rubbed his hip at the initial sign of distress, his protective senses going off.

“What’s wrong, baby? Am I hurtin’ you?” Majima softly inquired, leaning over to turn Kiryu’s face. Kiryu shook his head, new tears forming and flowing down the dried trails on his cheeks. This couldn’t have been timed any worse. He was unable to drown out his responsibilities, no matter how far he ran, despite how much Majima insisted he share part of the pain. He was a terrible, naive, and selfish man, but Majima gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in existence.

“It’s just,” his voice cracked, throwing a hand over his eyes to shield the scrutiny. “...looking at me like...”

“‘Course I’m lookin’ atcha. I never listened when people said ya shouldn’t be starin’ at the sun, but here I am, lookin’ at someone who shines much brighter. If it’s Kiryu-chan, then I don’t mind goin’ blind. I manage pretty well with one eye, so what’s one less?”

Majima removed Kiryu’s hand and wiped those umber eyes with his knuckle, drawing the man’s attention towards him. He pressed his lips onto those moist eyelids, hips grinding up against the backs of Kiryu’s thighs. The movement pulled a wrecked gasp from the younger man, whose stretched rim convulsed around Majima’s length. The thrusts were gentle, slow, and reassuring. Kiryu couldn’t be comforted by empty words that promised the world, but actions that proved he wasn’t a selfish failure; he was appreciated by his efforts to do good by people he loved.

The pressure on Kiryu’s lower half lessened in discomfort the longer they were thrusting up against each other. Majima’s hands kneaded at his chest while Kiryu’s ankles crossed over the man’s tailbone. The simple, voracious appetite for more flesh divulged the two into moans and sighs. Fingernails dug into the flower petal images on Majima’s back, unbeknownst to both the tattooed cabaret manager and the writhing Kiryu.

“Never thought I’d ever see ya like this,” Majima grunted, sweat dripping off his temple and onto the sheets.

Kiryu huffed an attempt at an unbothered chuckle and canted his hips into the cool, night air.

“Maybe you should’ve, nn... told me you loved me sooner,” Kiryu gasped aloud, seeing stars at the rough thrust he received at the cheeky suggestion. A newly ignited fire burned within the hovering man at the playful words, causing him to nip at Kiryu’s chin in retaliation. “Majima, ugh... stop messing around, ah!”

“Yer real bossy, aren’t ya, Kiryu-chan?” Majima bit onto the younger man’s bobbing Adam’s apple. “I don’t hafta take this lyin’ down, y’know?”

Kiryu cried out at the handful of oncoming hard thrusts, his nails digging into the scratched up flesh of Majima’s back as he was slammed into. There were sharp canines biting into his neck, not enough to injure, but with effortless force to visibly showcase teeth marks. Everything had Kiryu rearing towards climax, before all movement abruptly paused. He glanced up at Majima with half-lidded eyes, forcing himself to focus through blurry vision and scattered inhales.


Majima winced as Kiryu squeezed around him with urgency. The younger man was glaring up at him with a look that held back unsavory insults. He challenged Kiryu with an innocent look.

“What’s up?”

“Majima,” he warned, narrowed eyes promising death if the older man didn’t start moving the instant Kiryu released his strong hold on his hair. “If you don’t —“

“What? I’m tired,” Majima teased, feeling only slightly guilty at the way Kiryu’s eyes blinked up at him. In reality, he would’ve finished if he had kept going at the rate they maintained. It would’ve been an irredeemable shame for Majima to carry on his back for the remainder of his life if he had simply chased after his own pleasure without gratifying Kiryu to the extent his lover deserved. He settled his pulse by slowly pulling out, Kiryu grabbed at his hips, stilling the older man from moving.

“Nooo,” Kiryu whined, the snobbiness in his accent completely vanished when he was shamelessly begging. Majima wanted to coddle the younger man into oblivion at the pleasure-ridden expression he was pointedly aiming at him. “Don’t go.”

“Aww, gimme a minute,” Majima soothed, readjusting his position, and fixing his hunched-over posture. He was getting old if he couldn’t hold that angle for more than a half hour. He lifted Kiryu into his lap and settled with his stinging back flat onto the cushion of his bed. He hissed in slight pain as his cuts hit the sheet, but otherwise, he could power through. Kiryu looked delectable in this angle, as opposed to how good he looked any other time. Majima beamed up at him, embarrassment appearing on Kiryu’s face under the observation.

“Why this position?” Kiryu mumbled, sitting with his bottom directly over Majima’s thighs. He wore his shame on his sleeve, but his dick was standing proudly through the embarrassment, so Majima deduced that cowgirl is an option that they could revisit in the future. Score. The long-haired yakuza bounced the other man in excitement.

“Ya wouldn’t get it,” Majima answered, sliding his hands onto Kiryu’s waist. “Can ya put it in yerself, baby? I’m gettin’ kinda old.”

“‘Old’, huh...” Kiryu mused, eyes roaming over Majima’s mischievous face with a streak of playfulness brewing of his own. “Maybe I start calling you ‘daddy’, too.” Delighted at the visible, lively twitch of Majima’s aching member, Kiryu decided that he could always revisit possible nicknames in the future.

Holy shit,” Majima wheezed, feeling his brain rattling at the possibility of that title being used in a completely different setting than what he was already accustomed to. “That’s illegal. Yer killin’ me.”

Kiryu knelt up on his knees, aligning the tip of Majima’s cock with his wet hole, trembling as he slowly sunk down. The envelopment of his member was otherworldly; Majima felt that no pleasure could ever amount to the sinfully delicious inferno that was Kiryu’s body.

“Aww, fuck,” Majima groaned, dropping his head back onto the futon. The intensity was incomparable to anything he had ever experienced. He gripped Kiryu’s hips and stopped him from rising up. The little intersession of time wasted was all for naught if Kiryu was just going to ride him with the purpose of a man seeking nothing but conclusion. Kiryu swatted at the oppressive hands and persevered, lunging upwards until Majima’s pulsing length was almost entirely exposed and squeezed cruelly around the sensitive crown. “Wait, wait! Ah, Kiryu-chan! ...fuck, that’s bad...”

“Nuh-uh,” Kiryu dismissed his lover’s worries, feeling motivated by the feathered breaths of the man shivering beneath him. Majima looked like he was going to blow any second now, luckily for Kiryu, he was very far behind. He angled himself in such a way that he could thrust onto both Majima’s dick and rub his front onto the older man’s stomach. “I want nii-san to come inside me.”

Majima whimpered.

“Where the fuck did my sweet Kiryu-chan go?” He moaned in defeat, hitching his hips upwards to meet Kiryu’s rhythmic bounces.

It only took a few more minutes of mindless grinding and hip-rolling until both men felt impeding tightness pooling in their bellies — Kiryu’s hips stuttered first, his body growing taut as he arched his back, wrists secured by Majima’s fists when he cried out, coming thick, white stripes across the older man’s stomach. The incredible snugness of Kiryu’s ever-tightening hole punched all of the remaining oxygen out of Majima’s system, who finished almost simultaneously. Kiryu shuddered at the feeling of hot liquid filling him up, a wave of accumulated exhaustion overcoming him.

They were tired, sticky, and jelly-limbed when realization dawned over their foolish heads. Majima started laughing when Kiryu sat up and winced at the ache in his lower half.

“I can’t believe we fucked,” Majima exhaled, his eye unclouded with the clarity a man only experiences post-orgasm. “Got the order all messed up.”

Kiryu leaned down and kissed Majima’s worries away, undisturbed by whatever order his older counterpart was going on about.

“Ya taste like expensive champagne,” Majima commented once he managed to catch his breath. He supported himself on his forearms, leaning up as far as he could to drown in the taste of lingering gold. He could detect the fruitiness, the carbonation. Though, only a hint.

“I drank expensive champagne,” Kiryu responded, a frown emerging as he recalled the earlier events of the day. He barely consumed a quarter of his glass before Nishitani showed up. “A few sips.”

“Awright, then. I owe ya a bottle,” Majima reassured, pinching the younger man’s cheek with a grin. “Let’s take the girls out tomorrow after hours, huh? Karaoke an’ booze, whaddaya say?”

The way Kiryu’s eyes brightened up with immense excitement at the prospect of karaoke and alcohol with the best group of party people Sotenbori had to offer was a look Majima saved internally into a file tucked away within his heart. Something he often sifted through when the world felt like it was caving in on him.


“I swear, doll.”

“I love karaoke,” Kiryu buzzed, his overzealous expression had Majima’s heart set ablaze. The older man dropped his head back down onto the fluffy bedding, feeling exhausted from the overload of wondrous endearment and love-making.

“Ya love it more than me?” Majima mumbled, awaiting the confirmation of Kiryu’s own confession as he peered up through long strands of his silky, ebony hair. He wondered about what he was going to hear as he encountered the astonished look on the younger man’s reddened face. Kiryu bit his lip.

“You’re a close second.”