Wandering Birds
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Summary
Pulling back, Kiryu surveyed him with half-mast eyes, lips parted. He wanted to go further, but this Majima didn’t seem half as experienced, half as secure. In Kamurocho, an older, shorter-haired, madder Majima would already be pinning him to the ground by now.
This one sat beautifully on his lap, head tilted, his hair falling over a shoulder, which was still shiny with a newish tattoo. He seemed unsure, good eye squinted, fingers resting on his bottom lip in thought.
“Kiryu-chan,” he cooed, “Teach me more about myself.”
Series
- Part 1 of Wandering Birds
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“This one’s good,” Kiryu hummed, looking over his shoulder, his eyes half-mast, the glasses slipping down his strong, straight nose. Majima groped two handfuls of his ass and pulled his cheeks apart, watching the way his rim stretched around the band of his thong, which barely concealed anything at this point. Kiryu sighed, pressing his cheek to the wall, wistful. Like he was watching a fucking rainbow split a cloudy sky, listening to the way a shower dripped like rainfall in the morning, like he was laying in a field of dewy hibiscus. Not getting his ass tugged open by some strange yakuza named Majima-san who Kiryu, in the span of a few hours, decided he wanted so bad that it hit his balls.
Series
- Part 2 of Wandering Birds
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Summary
Nishiki blinked. A swell of memory came back to him. Kiryu sitting in his boxers, watching an anime about robots on the television, the blinds of the balcony window opened and the neon of Kamurocho silhouetted against his back. Pink backing his hair, purple imbuing the slopes of his shoulders that had yet to be developed further, blue in the fan of his eyelashes. Kiryu spooning curry into his mouth, Nishiki nursing a beer.
This adolescent drama. The thing Nishiki had once been most concerned about.
Did you eat my last packet of curry?
Series
- Part 3 of Wandering Birds