Chapter Text
“You think Kiryu Kazuma fucks as hard as he hits?”
Majima ears perked; but played it cool as he leaned in his chair, metal toes clacking as they rested on the windowsill. He pretended to be looking out the window; his metal bat planted firm on his thigh, nestled along the length of his shoulder.
It was raining in the outskirts of Kamurocho, the neon buzz nearly reflected on every surface. He was looking out the window while some of his men were huddled in a corner, playing cards on a table too small to fit any of them.
Apparently, someone had been messing around in their turf and Shimano grabbed Majima by the collar to scope it out. To make sure to beat the shit out of the hooligan who was making trouble. Like a good little guard dog.
There have been several clubs the family owned that had recently observed a string of missing hostesses. Majima figured it was hostesses that ran away with their clients, but he was here for a job and had to get this over and done with. Then he was free to return to his gaudy office and prowl the streets and look for Kiryu-chan until his hearts' content.
“Either way, wouldn’t wanna fuck with the guy.” One of the burlier men said. What was his name? Saita if Majima recalled correctly.
Another man with too much product in his hair sighs and splayed his hand of cards on the table, “Since when were we comparing dick sizes?”
"Since I heard the dude take on an army with just a vase and a couch."
A low voice immediately retaliates. "Bullshit."
But it was true. Majima had seen it.
Though it wasn't a vase, it was an ashtray. But details, details: they weren't really all that important.
The point was Kiryu Kazuma was the Dragon of Dojima for a reason. And he'd always fantasize about getting the Dragon beat him into a wrecked mess. Until he couldn't move. Until he was hard. Didn't matter really as long as there was the contact.
They had a couple of close calls, where a gaze would be held too long and a push of body heat a bit too sensual. After all, who better to get Kiryu back on his feet after ten years in the slammer?
Majima snapped out of it once he heard one of the men slap his cards down and howl in victory. The other two grunted and begrudgingly threw crumpled bills onto the table. "The Dragon can go suck my dick!"
"What dick? It's too small to see-" the laugh is interrupted when the talkative one tried to dodge a punch.
While they laughed like a couple of hyenas, there was movement in the window. It was hard to see much, with all the rain streaking the old windows, but that white suit could only mean one thing. Majima felt his hands flex instinctively in his gloves and his adrenaline skyrocket.
"Huh? That's not who I think it is, is it..?" The kid with too much hair product pointed to the window.
"Fuck. Speak of the devil."
"You wanna ask the Dragon to suck your dick now?"
"Shut up."
Making abruptly stood from the chair, like a compressed spring ready to jump, and flashed his canines in absolute glee, "Let's go boys!"
-
Majima was more than elated at Kiryu’s confused expression when he dramatically made his way downstairs at the entrance of the club. A manic spring in his step; swinging the bat around like he was about to start a music number.
“Majima-san.” Kiryu warily eyed the men surrounding them.
“Kiryu-chan! Who would’a thought it was you who's been our perp this entire time!”
A cackle of laughter erupted from his throat, louder than he thought, but the rain from outside seemed to drown it out.
“And ya know I can’t let ya off scott free...” He crouched down into an all too familiar stance, like a snake ready to strike, bat held tight to his side. “So ya gotta earn yer victory.”
Kiryu slicked back his rain damp hair, a small smirk on his lips as he also positioned himself offensively, fists in the air. Majima let out a satisfied exhale.
“I wouldn’t imagine it any other way.”
What either of them didn't imagine was the club owner suddenly showing up with a loaded pistol.
It narrowly missed Kiryu’s heart, but snagged his shoulder up good. The loud bang made everyone flee, and the club owner saw the glare of the Dragon of Dojima. He did nothing but shake in near piss fear as the gun was taken away from him and then was pistol whipped unconscious by Majima.
"What a dumbass." He inspected the gun in his hand: a pretty standard revolver.
"Couldn't even shoot off more than a bullet." Majima flicked the barrel open, just one short of a full round, figures.
"What's the point is you don't kill the guy? No offense." He nonchalantly turned to Kiryu, who grunted in acknowledgement while bleeding profusely onto the carpet.
Kiryu used his able hand to push against his shoulder, but the blood was leaking through his fingers. The bleeding was slowly sapping away his strength.
"Why are ya always getting yerself in trouble, haw?"
He sighed almost affectionately at the younger man's stupidity.
The crazed man gestured with the loaded gun, to Kiryu and then to himself, “Guess it's up to yer good ole pal, Goro, to help nurse ya back to health!"
Kiryu was about to distance him away as he cautiously eyed the flailing firearm. "You can't, Shimano will kill you."
Majima smiled mischievously, "Not if there aren't any witnesses."
The shopkeeper groaned quietly before older yakuza kicked him in the head. The head lolled, unconscious. He grinned at Kiryu as he tucked the gun into his jacket pocket. He strode up to Kiryu, who reluctantly leaned his weight against the older man as they made their way out of there.
-
By the time they got to one of Majima’s hideouts (this one seemed to be hideout number three), they were both panting and heavily soaked with rain; the leather clung uncomfortably in chilled air. The older man shuffled for his keys and opened the creaky door with a resounding thud. He readjusted Kiryu on his shoulder before slowly dragging them in.
“The fuck, do ya eat an entire restaurant to get this heavy-” It was getting more and more difficult to carry Kiryu’s weight, and Majima could feel the strain in his arms, finally giving way.
He was glad the blood trail would be washed away from the rain outside so they couldn't be followed. He turned and scrunched his nose at the trail of rain and blood that completely ruined his perfect wood floor hideout aesthetic. He was going to have to clean that up later.
They finally made their way to the bathroom. It was small- unlikely enough room to fit two grown men. Majima carelessly tossed Kiryu’s limp body into the tub, who grunted loudly, legs flopped out of the porcelain rim.
“Watch it.” Kiryu winced as he gripped his shoulder.
Majima was glad he hadn’t passed out. He needed the younger man conscious.
The older man smiled down at Kiryu forebodingly before turning to the mirror to open the cupboard. He shuffled around and managed to find a bottle of peroxide and some bandages. Though on closer inspection they were a little yellow, but other than that they were in working condition. He left them on the sink counter and looked over to Kiryu, who hadn’t moved since he was placed in there.
“Hey, I need ya awake.” Majima leaned over to tap at the leg jutting out of the tub.
“Mn.” Majima could see Kiryu’s eyes closed, like he was going to be able to nap in the small bathtub, blood and rainwater smeared all over the tiles on the floor and wall.
“Can’t have you passing out on me, Kiryu-chan.” Majima pushed Kiryu’s limp leg into the tub before making his way into the cramped confines, towering above him.
There was a sound of protest, and Majima shut him right up by planting his foot into his chest, standing fully over him. He turned the shower on, and Kiryu’s eyes jolted open as water washed over them both. Kiryu began sputtering the water that got to his mouth in his surprise.
“W-what the hell, Majima-san?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” The older yakuza shrugged his jacket off, and let it fall out from the tub in a wet thud. He took out his tanto and daintily held it threateningly above Kiryu's face. Like one wrong move, and Kiryu would have more problems to deal with than the open shoulder wound.
A long grueling pause thickened between them.
Majima cackled out loud and tossed the tanto onto the floor with a loud clatter.
“I’m just foolin’ Kiryu-chan...” He supposed it was his possessiveness that he was practically lashing out.
Kiryu almost died. And it was going to be because a god damn gunshot wound to the heart. If the younger man hadn’t ducked before the trigger was pulled…
He didn’t like thinking that far. You lived and lived and kept going until you couldn’t anymore. He made it this far thinking that, and nothing was going to make him think otherwise.
Majima watched the water trickle from the back of his head onto Kiryu, rivulets of water trailing down everywhere, down his face, onto to Kiryu. He couldn’t exactly place the expression Kiryu was expressing. But It was soft.
Look, he’s pitying you, you sad pathetic excuse of a man.
Oh, he didn’t like that.
Majima, without thinking, stomped harder on that strong chest, enough to knock the wind out of the helpless man beneath him. Kiryu looked up at him in surprise, then a glare formed from his hard stare.
Much better.
Kiryu tried to sit himself up, but was stopped by the sole of a steel toed shoe.
"Down boy." Majima could feel the growl reverberating in Kiryu's chest, the fully formed glare rocketed a shiver up the Mad Dog’s spine. But more force was pushed down on the firm sternum, the metal tip of his shoe digging in Kiryu's throat. He could see Kiryu’s throat bob, heat still emanating hot from his body.
He had Kiryu’s other arm pinned against his other foot, along the pulse of his wrist. Majima thought about maybe tying his other hand to the faucet, but realized the bullet wound made it impossible for Kiryu to even move his arm at all.
“We don’t wanna make this harder than its gotta be, do we?” Majima leaned onto his bending knee, resting his arm atop it to add even more weight on Kiryu’s throat, making him nearly choke. Majima’s heart fluttered a bit.
Majima found his mouth watering. The older man took a deep breath and aligned his sight onto Kiryu’s chest; the push and pull of his pecs nearly bursting out of his dress shirt. He was glad a shower was able to mask his raw desires. For the most part -and Kiryu was pinned down and at his mercy.
It felt better than Majima expected. Not nearly as good as Kiryu grinding his face into hard concrete, wet with his own blood. But almost. Majima didn’t like comparing those kinds of things. What felt good felt good until they didn’t.
Majima noticed the blood swirling around the tub and draining away, as Kiryu’s chest heaved in pain, his shoulder shuddering; blood continuously seeping out of the open gun wound.
If he was going to patch him up he may as well have a little fun with his adorable Kiryu.
With nimble fingers, Majima bent down to grab the dress shirt and yanked it: the rip of buttons as loud as Kiryu’s sounds of protest. Chest fully exposed now was something that Majima could take his time to actually appreciate.
Majima took his time, gliding his gloved fingers along the expanse, enjoying the small fight Kiryu was putting on. His foot was no longer on Kiryu’s chest, but sharp knees dug into both of his sides.
Honestly this wasn’t much better for Kiryu. He wasn’t sure what Majima was going to do, which worried him the longer Majima was going to feel and stare. Water was getting into his eyes and his vision was getting blurred with every other blink.
“What are you…!”
Kiryu seethed through his teeth in shock as Majima licked along his bullet wound, his sharp tongue prodded into it, making the younger man jump at the electrifying pain. All Majima could taste was iron and Kiryu’s groans. He could feel Kiryu’s hard body beneath his fingertips, breath hitching with every jerk of taut muscle. He nipped along his throat testing the flex of muscles, and oh did they strain and flex.
“Fuck, I just can’t get enough of this body.” Majima’s knee dug harder at Kiryu’s side and he couldn’t do much other than groan in pain.
He pulled back to look at Kiryu and could feel the hot blood smeared across his mouth, covered his tongue in red iron. The warm liquid smeared itself on Kiryu’s pecs, the water showering above diluting and leaving the heaving chest a stunning red tint.
“Jus’ nicked ya hard on the shoulder, shot through it clean. Other than that, you’ll be fine.” Majima casually said as if he was talking about anything but a bullet to the shoulder. Majima felt the water fall along his face and his neck, pleasantly warm. He licked his lips as he watched Kiryu look at him like he was insane. He figured the blood all over his face was more than reason to look like that. Especially since it was Kiryu’s blood that was all over his face.
Majima slowly slid a gloved finger along the rim of angry agitated flesh. He supposed it was time to stop the bleeding when he started to see Kiryu panting in hot puffs. It also didn’t help that he was sitting on top of him, at his mercy, in his small tub, bleeding out. He turned his body around to turn the shower head off.
Kiryu in his initial shock of Majima’s ludicrous gesture tried to close up his ripped open shirt but simply had his hand slapped away. The younger man looked almost embarrassed. Majima supposed it might be the fact that Kiryu had never felt so exposed while his body was being felt up and prodded. Like either of them had any humility left in them. Majima scoffed.
Water dropped from the frays of the older man’s hair onto Kiryu’s face at a steady pace. He bore down into Kiryu with an expression of intense concentration. Like he was thinking about what to do with poor, helpless, Kiryu. Kiryu looked away in his shyness and started feeling a heat rising up his chest. Though that heat may have been the blood, it was hard to tell. Majima silently got out of the tub and fetched the towel that hung on the door.
“Now that you’re all nice n’ clean, think ya can get up, Kiryu-chan?”
A small grunt. After a passive moment, with a knee no longer dug against his offended side, he managed to grab the edge of the tub and slowly haul himself out. Strangely, Majima stood right outside the door patiently waiting; water still dripping from his leather pants and hair.
Kiryu trudged into the dark room where Majima fit the towel over him and began to dry his hair. There was nothing but confusion and little bit of anger in being treated like a kid.
“Aw, don’t gimme that.” Majima laughed when he saw a peek of a small glare from under the towel. Majima quietly mumbled to himself, “What are ya, fucking five..?.”
He handed the injured man a large patch of bandage material. "Press down on that to stop the bleedin' then I'll apply the antiseptic after it stops." Kiryu slowly nodded as he peeled the dress shirt off his shoulders then-
A surprised yelp came from Kiryu when he felt eager hands unbuckling his pants.
"H-hold on-"
“Yer soaking my entire floor, plus, I gotta see where else ya might've gotten hurt…”
“M-Majima-san it’s quite alright-” Kiryu started to feel real light headed.
“No, no I insist! What kinda host would I be if I made ya do all the work?”
He supposed there was no point in fighting back. He was tired, his arm was refusing to work, and he was sure he was going to pass out. He no longer made a struggle as he was pushed into the futon and had his slacks seared off.
"Everything looks good." A low whistle.
"Real good." Kiryu realized that Majima was probably referring to something below his belt. He tried his best to push down the heat he felt in his face. He grit his teeth to disrupt any thoughts he could guess Majima was thinking of.
"Blood is getting all over your futon."
Majima bit back a howl of laughter. "Wouldn't be the first time!"
That seemed to ease a bit of the heavy tension and thanked himself for that quick remark.
He shooed Kiryu's hands away as he applied pressure to the bandage far better than Kiryu ever could have. Other than the fucking around in the shower and stripping the other man naked, Majima actually knew what he was doing.
"...And high hopes it won't be the last." Said man purred all too suggestively as he straddled him to sadistically enjoy the view, Kiyu guessed. But given the position, it did make it easier to apply the pressure needed.
The few minutes felt like hours. Kiryu couldn’t help but become hyper aware, from the adrenaline perhaps, he wasn’t entirely sure. The pillows smelled like Majima; an odd mixture of old Hi Lite cigarettes and clove. He focused on the push and pull of Majima’s muscular arms pressing into his shoulder. The jut of his hip bone peeking out from the wet band of his leather pants. His steadied breathing.
The wound didn’t hurt anymore. It was somewhat calming to Kiryu's surprise, like finding out when a friend had an impressive talent you didn't know about. The warmth from his shoulder seemed to cease, and he figured the bleeding had stopped.
"Alright, I'm gonna apply the peroxide. Ya ever used it before?" He watched as the older man expertly drained some of the chemical on a piece of cloth. Majima's Kansai accent seemed even thicker than Kiryu remembered.
"Of course I have…"
Kiryu wasn't a novice to cuts, gashes, and bruises; Majima would know that. If anything, he was responsible for many of them. A bullet wound might be a different story, and he knew it was going to hurt.
But he didn't think it would hurt that bad.
It hurt even more than the actual bullet shooting through his body. It took alot out of him to not scream right then and there. The shoulder didn’t feel like his anymore, the pain akin to being gorged with a burn, like acid. Everything went white and everything was beginning to slow and blur from the pain. His palms started to sweat and it was suddenly hard for him to breathe.
“Majima-san….” He barely managed to muster through his clenched teeth, the ends of his vision was beginning to fade and he was sure the already small room became even smaller.
Majima roughly grabbed his chin to look at him, a stern look that told him-
You're alive. Breathe.
It was odd how reassuring it made Kiryu feel. He knew Majima felt what he felt, the pain of what living in this world could do to you. It was hard and unforgiving. Would kill everything you ever brought closer to you. It would wring you by the neck and break you if you didn’t get back up. That unwavered look pierced Kiryu down to his very being. Majima understood. He had always understood.
The younger man felt his shoulders relax and realized he'd been clenching his jaw the entire time. He felt his breath pan out.
"Atta boy..." Kiryu can't help but return Majima's pleased smile with a glare. Majima simply pat Kiryu's cheek before he leaned over him to grab the roll of bandages.
Kiryu concentrated on the ink of Majima's immaculate shoulders rather than focus the heat of his chest flexing above him. He noticed a strange feeling in his gut but before he could asses it, Majima was back with the roll. A loud hiss from Kiryu was heard as his arm was maneuvered so it could be properly wound over to his shoulder.
After that’s over and done with, Majima dismissed him with a firm pat down of the freshly dressed wound. Majima staggered off the younger man, and Kiryu was surprised that he didn’t take advantage of being on top, having straddled him. Not even a sexual remark or suggestive push of his body. He almost hoped he would.
“Take a nap, I’ll be back soon ta look after ya.”
Kiryu heard the padding of feet and the scrape of a knife on porcelain; he suspected that Majima went to retrieve his tanto and jacket from the bathroom. The older man soon stalked over to the futon and threw a blanket over him.
“...Where are you going?” He pushed away the blanket from his face and watched as Majima put on his wet snakeskin jacket.
“Aw, is Kiryu-chan worried about lil’ o me?” He made a mocking kissing noise that Kiryu decided to ignore.
“I’m serious.”
Majima’s playful demeanor dropped back low and hard, like a quick flick of a lighter.
“Shimano sent me to do a job, and I gotta finish it.”
Before Kiryu could make any retort or have his say, or even reason with him, a slam of the door and pattering of rain was the only noise Kiryu was left to hear. The noise of shoes clattering was quickly drowned out by the rain outside.
He sat up to instantly regret it. Suddenly the room started to drain away, and Kiryu found himself getting lost in it. He knew he couldn’t do anything to stop him. Injured or not, Majima was going to do whatever he was setting himself out to do.
Kiryu tried to listen for anything but the rain. The outside rain had continued to beat hard against the ratty roof as the lights of the night slowly came to life. He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting, but sleep pulled at the ends of his tired consciousness, and Kiryu could do nothing but give in.