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Getting into fistfights at the pier wasn't unusual for you. It was where you and your gangs stomping grounds were, near Tokyo Bay. Two things made your group of delinquents stand out: the way they fought, and you; the one who guided them.
The only thing you could describe your groups fighting style as was... unhinged. Dirty tricks, sucker punches, throwing their full bodies into fights, and ripping each other from tooth to nail. Whenever you came out victorious in a scrap on your turf, the other side looked like absolute hell. That is to say your side never saw any damage; the way they fought wasn't safe for themselves either, broken noses and cuts common. Even then, you were proud of the little shits. Most of them were drop outs of high school or college, your protectiveness towards them described as "motherly" by a few. Of which you clapped against the back of their head for the comment.
You're not that old... though compared to them, maybe so. The oldest of the group was 24, and you surpassed him by at least six years. Though you did tend to stand out in your "field". Girl gangs were common now days, though a girl running a gang of boys? That was new. The fact you also towered over most women here didn't help even if you wanted to offer spots to girls, they were intimidated by you.
Though now days, that barely concerned you. What did concern you was what you saw brewing in the area for imports coming in. Calling your group back behind you to wait out for a minute you snuck out undetected, peering out from behind a shipping container. You held your hand out behind you flat and stiff; a command for them to not come out.
There were at least 50 men, all dressed in identical suits. Off to the side were two men the massive crowd were starting to gather around. The two were around the same height, though different builds to them. Bricked shoulders, thick torso, and a serious stance to the one. You’d only be able to tell he was alive by the even pace his shoulder rose from breathing. The other was on the slender side. He seemed to have a casual air to him by the way he swung his hips to-and-fro, balancing his weight on a baseball bat in his grip. The two stuck out like sore thumbs in the crowd; a solid grey tailored suit, and a leather-clad beanpole. The fashion sense on the two make you quirk a brow.
You became thankful for how much they stood out once all hell broke loose after one of the black-clad men released something like a battle cry, the group swarming the two men.
The fight was brutal from the start, the two men fighting in ways you hadn’t seen in a while. Heavy swings that landed with precise aim, destroying the noses and arms of the loosely trained suits. You even cringed at times, how he could just lift people with no effort and tiger drop them into a pile of broken bones and sobs. Though what ended up capturing your attention more after a bit was the other man.
He was… crazy. Absolutely crazy. Back flipping into the chest of someone, following it up with a swing of his bat into another victims head; the sound audible even from where you were. On a dime he started… dancing? He was breakdancing into the crowd, his long legs taking down at least five men, following that up with quick jabs to another’s eyes.
The bigger man was quiet other than grunts and tongue click from annoyance. The other one was cackling, taunting the men around him. He drew a small blade out that was tucked into his pants, the audible whimpers reaching your ears.
Only six or seven men were left at this point, their big bravado dwindling into fear-fueled adrenalin. A man pulls a bludgeoning stick from his blazer, taking a run at the thinner man with the blade. He lets a cackle out, running at the same speed towards him to meet in the middle. With a swift movement his gloved hands take hold of the stick, twisting it out of his grip. It must’ve broken his wrist from the guttural scream the suit releases.
The leather-clad man tosses his knife into the air, delivering a few quick jabs into the man’s chest until the knife comes back down. Managing to catch it with the toe of his wingtips he drives it into the man’s chest. With a grin he leans over and mutters something into his ear before he yanks the blade out, the man going down.
“…so pathetic...”
You weren’t sure if that’s what you heard, but the brutality of this man in a fight almost inspired you.
The bigger man was holding out just fine, a crushing right hook he delivers sends a man skidding across the ground. The fight seemed like it was over, and you let out a breath you didn’t relive you were holding in.
A soft tap on your still straightened hand pulls you from the fight. Looking back it’s Takeshi, the oldest member of your gang.
“What the fuck is going on out there?! Should we go out?!” He says in a hushed but concerned voice. “And what’s with that creepy grin, like what you see out there?”
The expression drops, not even realizing you were smiling. The embarrassment quickly leaves you, shaking your head at him.
“That’d be suicide. This has yakuza stamped all over it by the way they’re dressed…” His eyebrows shoot up, fear plain on his face.
“Holy shit, are you serious? Of course the day we decide to meet up they come bustin’ in…” You chuckle lightly at his response.
“We’re gonna clear out. It’s too dangerous right now, I’m not putting you guys in that kind of situation.” Features set hard you lock eyes with him until the boy crumples under your gaze.
“A-Alright, a guess that’s smart. Thank god no one brought a fucking gun to a fist fight—”
Ironically as Takeshi says this, a gunshot goes off behind you. Flinching from the loud pop you whip around to the scene.
One of the men that wasn’t unconscious on the ground pulled a glock from his blazer, taking aim and hitting the thinner man square in the gut. You suck a breath in through your teeth, watching him stumble back and fall into the water, a plume of water shooting up from his weight.
“Majima!!”, the large man yells out. He sends a dirty look to the man on the ground. The man with the gun seems to pass out then, an annoyed ‘tsk’ coming from the bigger guy. You see him falter for a moment, looking back towards where “Majima” fell, and towards the exit of the shipping yard. Shaking his head he turns sharply and heads towards the exit. You hold in a quaff. He’d leave his partner like that?
Or at least, that’s what you assumed from how in-sync they were fighting.
“Never mind, I’m going in.”
Looking back towards your group, you call them over. Quickly but carefully you walk between the men sprawled on the ground, some still conscious and not. Your walk turns into a pace, then a sprint towards the edge of the pier.
There he is, floating in the water. A pool of blood is drifting around his wound. He’s still conscious from his lidded eye (an eyepatch?), breathing strained. Before you know it you start moving, not wanting to just stare at someone in pain when you could help. Laying flush with the ground you lean both arms over as far as you can without losing balance. His glazed over eye follows you, coughing out a laugh.
“Th’ fuck do ya’ think you’re doin’?” His voice is strained but he doesn’t deny your offer, carefully righting himself up in the water with a hiss. With more force than necessary he grips onto your hands. You adjust your hands to wrap around his wrists and he does the same. With one heavy tug you lift him up enough to where he can get a foot onto a small bar on the pier. With another tug and him pushing off the bar he clamors out of the ocean. Before he can right himself his eye flutters shut, possibly from the blood loss, and collapses onto half of you.
His weight presses onto your right side, an ungracious ‘oof’ coming from your lips. The top of his head is tucked under your breast, one hand flush against your stomach and the other on the ground. The physical contact makes your face burn. Thoughts slowly creep into your head that you shake out immediately upon hearing your gang run up to the scene.
You hear Takeshi snicker at your position. Rolling your head back to look at him, though upside down, you throw a mean glare at him. This seems to make him laugh more, then shrug. Without disturbing the man laid out on you, you reach your arm that’s not pinned by his weight grab hold of his shoulder. Gently rolling him from on top of you makes a ragged sigh release from his lungs.
“What do we do, Boss?” Takeshi calls out to you. You look the man over.
His wound doesn’t look too deep, but the fact that it’s still in him isn’t good either. Bringing him to a hospital was out of the question if he really was yakuza. Even if you asked what clan he’s from, you doubt he’d be able to want to respond. Closing your eyes you take a slow inhale in, then exhale. Holding a hand up you call Takeshi closer to you.
“Go get Hiro’s car, he’s coming back to my place.” He huffs a dry laugh at you, though following your order by calling Hiro over.
“You’re gonna work on him at your place, are you serious?! Do you even remember the last time one of us got shot and how we almost got the cops called on us cause of how loud Sugimoto was crying?” Takeshi mutters a small command to Hiro, the younger boy nodding and taking off.
“No shit, of course I do! What do you expect me to do here, leave a guy to die?”
“When he’s yakuza… yeah! They’re bad news aren’t they?” You quickly stand up and backhand him, leaving him speechless.
“Don’t you fucking dare play the innocent here.” Your tone was even and deadly serious. “You wanted to be yakuza before you met me, didn’t you?! And even if he is yakuza that gives you no right to judge him. Why are you where you are, huh?” You press a finger into his chest. Shame rises to Takeshi’s eyes, then glances down to miss yours.
“S-Sorry ma’am. I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s right you weren’t, but it’s okay. Just help me get this guy to my place before he bleeds out, yeah?” He nods, accepting your request. The other boys run over to Hiro’s car that just pulled up, laying seats down to make space for the tall man.
Letting a breath out you glance down at the man next to you.
He’s looking at you.
You look back in stunned silence.
He closes his one eye, pretending to be asleep. Even throwing in a few soft snoring sounds to convince you.
Your brows knit up and a soft laugh escapes you. Before you can call out to him Takeshi calls you over, saying everything is ready. He runs over and help you lift the man up as carefully as you can and lay him down in the back seat.
“Takeshi, you’re coming with me and Hiro.” Pointing to the other few boys you smile sweetly at them. “You guys, go relax. Today sucked.” They chuckle but nod in agreement, calling out thanks to you.
Slipping into the car next to the man—who’s name is Majima?—the three of you take off towards your apartment in Kamurocho.
“…my seats are gonna smell like ocean water now.” Hiro mutters under his breath, making the two of you chuckle.
You go to press a hand onto Majima’s wound when you already see he’s applying pressure himself. Clearly he’s awake, but feigning it for some reason. Rolling your eyes you bring a hand down and place it over his, pressing lightly. He stifles a grunt, only a breath releasing.
You don’t look down at him for the rest of the trip, looking out to the road instead.
Your apartment wasn’t fancy, but it had a few more square feet of space than the average apartment in Tokyo. This came in handy when you told the two boys to make a peaceful distraction outside to draw attention from you bringing a bleeding man into your residence.
You hold in a laugh when you see the two start dancing and yelling, some sort of Idol chanting. Time is of the essence now and you nudge the injured man lightly to wake him up, as he fell asleep on the way here. He goes to speak but you quiet him with a finger to your lips, then slip your arm under his and across his back for support. With his appearance you’d expect him to mouth off more, though what comes is complacent silence. He stumbles a bit but you’re able to bring him into the lobby of your building and up an elevator to your floor. Fleeting glances at his torso show the wound isn’t too bad, the bleeding stopped flowing out as fast. This could be good or bad, but his ability to still walk teased at good.
Once you got to your door at the end of the corridor you carefully lean him up against the wall, watching him to see if he’ll fall while you fish your keys out of your pocket. His half-lidded gaze is on you, the action sending a chill up your spine.
It’s like he’s looking through you.
A second later and you get the door open, slipping your arm under his once again and guiding him inside, his feet carry himself to the closest chair and collapses into it. Hunching over he brings a gloved finger to his wound and flinches. You wanted to ask about what the hell started that fight, but it’ll have to wait.
Moving over to a cabinet across from the chair he’s in you open it and start pulling out your “emergency supplies” for when your gang gets roughed up too bad. Medical bills were something none of you could really pay for, and after reading some textbooks from the library and getting Takeshi to pinch some surgical tools, you could do some spaghetti surgery. In the pack is a large plastic tarp, which you unfold and lay out on the ground.
“Come over here, on the floor.” You reach a hand out to him, but he catches you and grabs your hand in his, squeezing tightly. It would’ve hurt more if the gloves were off.
“Do ya’…”, he breaths out raggedly, “do ya’ even know who you’re tryin’ t’ help out here?” His gaze is hard, but curious. Shaking your head you squat down and pat the tarp; of which you’ve now placed a pillow for his head.
“Yakuza? Don’t know what family though. That doesn’t matter to me as much as some beanpole dying in my living room is. Now, come.” Another pat on the tarp.
A short laugh huffs from his nose as he stands and gets on his hands and knees, crawling over to the tarp and plopping his head on to the pillow. The sight of it makes your eyes dart away, another dark though creeping into your head.
No. Not now you degenerate…
Making quick work of his jacket you take notice of the tattoos on his pecs and shoulders, eyes lingering there as you go to remove his shoes. He nearly passes out from how quickly he sits up and grabs your arms. You shoot him a curious look, darting between them and his panicked stare.
“They… they’re wet. I’m just taking them off so you’re not uncomfortable.” You try to keep your voice even so he doesn’t startle, almost like a deer in front of headlights.
“…alright.” You can tell he has more words for you, but can’t manage to get them out as he lays back down, a pained look etched on his face.
“Alright… now don’t jump up again like that or you’ll bust open in my living room. I don’t feel like cleaning up another dead body.” His eye thins at your comment. Noticing this you chuckle. “No worries, he was a bad guy. I’d do a hit like that on a pervert for free any day.” His eye softens, but stayed guarded. More words directed at you that get pushed back.
Fishing through the medical bag you pull out some pain killers, a bottle of water, and some alcohol with cotton balls. Unscrewing the water and lifting his head up gently you offer him that and pills. Majima doesn’t budge, looking between you and this pill in your hand.
“Chew these and drink half the bottle. You’re going to regret it if you don’t.”
He grimaces, then opens his mouth for you. Gently you place the pill on his tongue, then let him take it from there. Lifting a hand up gingerly he grabs the bottle from your hand and chokes it down, the bitterness of the pill making him grimace. You smile, then lay his head back down on the pillow once he finishes.
Ripping open an alcohol swab you clean your hands, then slide on surgical gloves. You can feel his eye on you as you prepare your little “work station”.
A few moments pass as you let the painkillers kick in, his eyes dialate, telling you its time. Reaching into the bag once again you pull out a thick rag and bring it to his mouth. He pauses then takes the hint, letting you place it in his bite.
Scooting down a few inches to hover over his stomach you un-buckle his belt and unzipping his trousers, pulling the flaps down a bit. It gave up you better access to the lower end of the bullet wound. Not hiding it this time you hear him suck a breath in when the tips of your fingers graze his upper groin, right where his trail starts. You pretend like you didn’t hear it, but the sound of his teeth clacking and slight jump of his hips when you did so stick in your mind.
Cleaning the outside of the was the easiest part. Majima seemed to be better at handling pain then your boys, not making a sound as you prodded and wiped the blood and grime away. You’d glance back at him every once in a while, to check if he was fine.
Every time his eye was on you.
You couldn’t tell if he was looking in your direction while he day dreamed, or he was looking at you. This continued until he spoke up.
“Whhr oor youh.” His speech was muffled from the cloth in his teeth, but you understood him fine.
“Nothing special, I just look after some delinquents that decided I would be their ‘leader’”, you enunciate this by curling your two fingers that were free into quotation marks. “A lot of them are kids who wanted to be yakuza but couldn’t fight that well. I don’t know how comfortable I feel with some of them wanting to still do it, but…”
“Buhh?”
“But I might as well prepare them myself.”
He doesn’t reply, only shifting his gaze to the ceiling.
“Majima-san, this is gonna hurt.” He goes to speak again at the sound of his name but is cut off with his own low, pained groan. You have tweezers at the ready, feeling the bullet already when you press it in not even a half inch. His grip on the towel strains, a hand of his flailing out to grab something, anything.
His left hand rests on the small of your back, a tight fisted grip taking hold of your shirt. A slight jump at the chill of his damp glove, you don’t let it continue to distract you as you move onwards.
Strained gasps and groans spill from his tight lips. Occasionally his eye rolls into the back of his head in extreme moments of pain. You stop your work to give him a moment after those episodes.
You had hoped you could pull a solid bullet out, but it broke up inside his entry wound. There’s no sign of it travelling anywhere else, but this means a longer time fishing inside the hole. His grip on your shirt tightens and loosens in bursts, your skin prickling goosebumps when you feel the warmth of his wrist against your lower back. You can just imagine how hard his pulse is racing now.
It takes an hour and thirty to fish all the pieces out; seven in total. You wondered what kind of bullet was in the chamber to break up inside someone like that, but it was too mangled to tell.
Clean up isn’t as long, though your movements are much more graceful than before, cleaning the wound and applying an ointment. You packed and wrapped the wound carefully, having to release his grip on your shirt to sit him up. He stays quiet through the entire thing, only huffs and soft moans of pain peaking from his lips.
You de-glove yourself and place a hand on the small of his back to steady him.
“You’re gonna want to be careful how you move, it pierced a bundle of muscles. I’ll give you some medicine to take with you whenever you decide to leave. That sound okay to yo—Ah!!”
Before you can blink he shifts his body and pins your hands down with one hand, reaching over and grabbing an unused scalpel with the other. His gaze is eerily calm, pressing the flat side of the blade to your check. Your eyes widen, anger bubbling at the rim. Smart enough to not move you wait for him to speak.
“Who are you? You with Omi? Leftovers from the Dojima Clan? Don’t try and play me dumb, it’s too convenient for you to have been there.” Any sign of a southern accent in him is gone. With expertise movement he presses the blade in a little more to the corner of your mouth, sharp side still away from actually cutting you. A threat, not a promise.
You shoot him a glare, carefully opening your mouth small enough to not get nicked by the blade.
“The Dojima Clan is a joke now days. Is that who you were fighting at the pier?” Flexing your wrist a bit he tightens down on them, eliciting a hiss of pain from you.
“Omi is out of my league, just like Tojo. I’m… I’m better suited for smaller stuff, anyways.” A light growl is drawled onto the end for your sentence. His eye narrows in on you, the sneer from before softening. His grip doesn’t loosen though.
“Then what’s the point of helpin’ me? You could’ve busted out of there like Kiryu-chan did.” The other man? Your eyes widen at the familiarity of the name. Is he that Kiryu? Which means…
“Majima Goro, then?” You tug on his hand holding your wrists, more as enunciation than trying to break free. His expression turn light, then a goofy grin replaces it.
“Ohoh~! So you do know me! I hope it’s just from all the rumors of a handsome man strolling down the streets of Kamurocho~!” His air completely changes at that, almost like a giggly teenager. You brows knit together, puffing a breath out to the side.
“Ah, I see.” He was handsome, but you’d never say it. “I hope this means you can let me go?” You shoot a pleading look at him that he shoots down with on overdone pout, shaking his head.
“Really, I’d love to. But there’s still somethin’ not connectin’ for me… How’d you get past my men?”
Confusion.
“Your…men? We didn’t see anyone else at the pier other than the guys you beat the shit outta.”
Majima clicks his tongue, mild annoyance plasters across his face. “’Course the one time I need that backup they’re late.”
His pressure on your body is becoming more obvious by the moment, knee pressed between your thighs, the other one locked over your lower legs to prevent vaulting him off. His gloved hands were feeling hot on yours, the pain going from annoying to exciting. You need him off you now, your body was starting to react in a inappropriate way. If he catches it that’s a huge opening for him to do… something. Wracking your brain for things to get him off, all the physical and verbal ideas falter. He could counter them easily, now realizing just who he is.
Only tactic you have left is… weird.
Locking your eye with his one you open your mouth ever so slowly. His eyes go to your soft lips, eye widening a bit when you ease your tongue out. Moving it to the corner of your mouth you press the tip of it gently into the point of the scalpel , drawing blood. Slowly and still holding eye contact with an intrigued Majima you lick your lips, thin blood coating them like lipstick. Fluttering your lids you nudge your head to the left, gazing up at him with a put-on expression of shame.
“Please, I don’t wanna hurt myself anymore…” You softly croon out, hoping the weird tactic would work on him. You notice his cheeks and ears tinge red at the sight. His eye is locked on your lips, then your eyes. It’s deathly quiet for the next 15 seconds, thoughts churning in both of your heads.
Eventually you feel his grip loosen on your wrists, his knee pull away from your groin. The pressure taken off makes you sigh, not bothering to hold it in. When he lifts his other leg off yours you can see a sentence trying to be formed on his lips. You don’t give him the time, shooting up quickly and smacking his hand, the knife flinging across the ground and knocking under the table. His gaze goes from calm to shocked, attempting to hold you down once again. You had the upper hand this time, lifting your butt off the ground to vault your weight forward, collapsing on top of him.
Majima winces and reaches his hands out, gripping into your hair. With a sharp tug he releases a yelp from you, the action making you growl again. Kicking his legs wildly you almost fall before you can nestle your knees against his sides, straddling his groin. You grab his hands fisted in your hair to make him release. He grips harder and tugs back and forth, tears pickling at the corners of your eye from the pain.
“Just… just sit and be a good, fucking, boy—wontcha’?” With every enunciation of your words you slam your weight down onto his hips, making him gasp at every impact; out of pain you’re sure. Forgetting about his hands fisted in your hair you reach for his throat, clasping onto the pale stretch of skin.
Majima’s breath hitches and releases your hair, hands scrambling to his throat. His scratching and tugging does nothing, applying firm pressure to the sides of his neck. Every time he thrashes you slam your hips down on his own and pressure increase on his neck, halting him for a moment with each press of weight.
“This is punishment for being so rude after I helped you,” your grip tightens, “is that normal? You turn into a complete maniac?” Your weight pressed down harder on his bottom half and he bucks against you, his one eyes darts over you in a mix of panic and… something else.
“I was going to make a drink for both of us after this, but you’ve lost that privilege for now. Do you think you can say sorry before you pass out?! Do you?!” You lean closer to his face as you go on, making your anger well and clear. You’ve scolded your guys before, but it was never so… physical like this.
You’re about to throw another comment at him when you feel it. Another pressure coming from between you, flush against your crotch. Darting a panicked eye at him he matches it with one as panicked as your own, though drenched in shame.
Oh my god, he’s hard.
Your grip lessens on his neck, though not enough to let go. You hadn’t moved away from his face either, too mortified to budge. Majima’s expression goes from shame to fervor, reaching a hand up and grabbing the back of your head. You go to yell at him again when he pulls you down, words lost as he crashes his lips into yours. His mouth is hot, moving almost desperately against yours.
You don’t reciprocate his kiss, making him pull away, a raised brow to his long features.
“What… did I read th’ situation wrong?” His breathing is labored, no doubt some of it from the pain in his abdomen. You pull back and let go of his neck, looking down at his bandaged wound.
“I—we. This could hurt you.” What were you even saying? Did you just agree to what was happening? It wouldn’t be the worst thing since it has been a while and he was attractive and your type—but to even think of something like this now...
Breaking you from your thoughts Majima grabs your hand and presses it into the wound, a wild look in his eye as he hisses out:
“Make it hurt.”
The way he says that makes you ache, the reckless implication behind it almost makes your vision go starry. You’d never had a willing partner that would be like this with you. Reaching your hands up you lace one hand through his hair, the other one on his neck. Lowering yourself back to his face you take his bottom lip between your teeth and bite down lightly, teasing him. Softly sighing through his nose his hands rest on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as you tease his mouth. He deepens the kiss, which soon becomes a fevered fight for dominance between you two.
You suck on his bottom lip, he lolls his tongue out, reaching for your own. You give a small squeeze on his throat, his hips jerk upwards. Then he drags his hands a bit lower, kneading your thighs like soft dough. The tips of his fingers dig into muscle, making you moan into your kiss. It’s heated, but not as far as it could go.
Catching you off guard he sits up and adjusts you so you’re sitting in his lap, looking down at him. His sights are on your neck, swooping in and rubbing circles into the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue. The action makes you gasp softly, teasing and massaging spots you’d dare let few others get near. He reaches a hand up and pulls your head back, gaining more access to the crook of your neck. Teeth drag against the skin, soon replacing them with his lips, going back and forth between suckling and biting.
You move a hand to Majima’s chest, balancing yourself as he marks up your neck and now collar bones. A chuckle bubbles in your throat, making the skilled man stop.
“Hn?” He pulls away just enough to catch your eye.
“Has it been a while?” Your question makes his eye widen a bit, a sheepish grin following after.
“Yeah, you?” Laughing in response you shift your hand on his chest, flicking the nipple closest to your hand. The sensation makes him jump, his hardness pressing into your thigh. Shooting a harmless glare at you he loops his fingers under your shirt, slowly pulling it off. Almost as if he’s… asking permission? Helping him you pull it over your head, throwing it somewhere to the side. His hand darts behind your back successfully unhooking your bra. You whistle low, teasing him.
“Aye, don’t be a smartass.” Majima slips his hands under your bra cups, giving both nubs a sharp pinch. Your reply is lost in your throat, a breathy moan in response instead. You feel his finger twitch at your cry, his expression hungry. Your eyes flutter shut, his gloved hands making the sensation far different than usual. The way the leather moved across the skin, his small strokes and pinches elicit lewd noises from you.
Though it starts slow you start to grind down on him, the heat building between your thighs becoming too much to stand without attention. Majima replies with a low growl, grinding his hips up back up to meet yours. Slipping the bra off your shoulders with one hand he tosses it to the side, massaging the soft mounds in circles. With a quick glance to your face he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his other hand pinching the opposite one. The mix of pleasure and pain makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, an undignified whimper slipping out. You bring a hand up to his head and push him farther into the softness of your breast. It was uncoordinated but the action seemed to excite him more. Majima moans into your breast and squeezes the other. His goatee tickles your soft skin, adding to the sensation. He continues with this torment, back and forth until each breast got its attention.
You feel like you have to rip yourself from his mouth, a trail of spittle following a sore and pink bud. Majima’s face was flushed, his breathing heavy again.
“Are you a breasts kind of guy?”, you ask, a small laugh following your question. Cupping them yourself you gently rub the sides, pressing them together. “Are you?”
“Ahh, yea’ I guess so,” looking up he brings a hand up and traces down your cleavage ever so slowly , “but if th’ full package is here then shit, I can’t complain.” He ends it with a sheepish grin, then a quick slap to your right ass cheek, cupping the bottom of it in his hand.
The slap surprises you. This man is touching base on all your favorite things? How convenient. With one hand you cup his cheek, the side with the eyepatch. Thumbing over his sharp cheekbone softly you trail it to his bottom lip, tracing it’s shape. The snarky expression from before softens, you feel him barely lean into your hold. If you weren’t paying as much attention as you were you would’ve missed it.
“Not ev’ry day I get dragged back t’ a girls apartment anymore.” Majima chuckles under his breath, though there’s something in the way he speaks that makes a small dent in your chest.
“Well I’m happy you’re here.” A softer laugh than before spills from your lips, reaching around and scratching the back of his head, the buzzed half feeling good against your fingertips.
Trailing your hand down you graze a finger over the strain in his pants. Majima lets a puff of air out at the contact; which you soon increase to two fingers, then three, then your whole hand. Palming him through the leather pants is getting him off quicker than you though, his breath becoming more ragged and uneven as you continue. He goes back to your neck, trailing over to your shoulder and biting down lightly.
Quickening and slowing the pace gradually seems to be nearly killing him, telling by his reactions. You wonder if he’s ever edged before. The sheer force he bites down on you when you slow to a snails pace as he starts to buck into your hand says enough.
Pulling your hand away after you think he's had enough, you rest it gently on his waist. His look at you isn’t of annoyance, but primal desire.
“F-Fuck, you’re gonna give me a heart attack you know that?”
You hum, rolling your eyes up and bringing a finger to your lip. Looking back you smile coyly at him.
“You did say ‘make it hurt’, right? This is the closest thing I can get to legal torture,” you dip your head down to his ear whispering heavily, “I could do much worse if you’d like.”
His nostrils flare at your reply, a devious grin and dark light flicker in his eye.
“You’re one sick bitch y’know that?”
“Mm… save the pillow talk for later, Majima-san.”
At that he looses it. Grabbing you by the waistband of your pants he flips you on your back, head thumping lightly on the carpet under the plastic tarp. One hard pull and he yanks them down to your knees, one more and he has them off, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Getting up on his knees he shuffles forward towards you.
“Ohoho~ I couldn’t tell from before, but you got a cute ass‘ere.” With that he lifts your legs up in the air with one arm around your calves, the other hand delivering a sharp spank to your cheeks. Throwing your head back you gasp loudly, the stinging sensation painful and orgasmic at the same time. The fact that his gloved palm brushed past your wetness also drove you insane.
One, two, three, four, he paces it evenly between every smack. He raises his hand to deliver another punishing blow when you—
“Wait!” Holding a hand out you reach as far as you can towards him. From the position it only reaches his ribs.
“Haw? Too much?”
“No! But… Could you take your gloves off?”
With literally zero hesitation he scrambles to rip them off, tossing them to the side. You’re able to see his hands clearly: slender and long like a piano player, yet they’ve also seen hard labor—or torture—in their lifetime. The same fingers now deliver another slap, this one having a different bite of pain to it. More residual sting, but being able to feel the warmth of his skin beneath each split-second contact make it worth it. He only delivers two more after that, then laying your legs back down on the floor.
The cool tarp on your ass makes you jump, making Majima chuckle. Sitting up you stick your tongue out at him to tease, though to your surprise he leans down and meets your tongue with his own, splaying a messy kiss over your mouth. You indulge as you draw closer to him, getting up on your knees and pressing your chest flush to his. Hands dancing to his waistband you slowly pull them down, wanting this to be as agonizing for him as it was for you. Pulling past his thighs you feel his dick pop out of its tight confines, its already-wet tip pressing into your lower belly.
Majima separates the kiss, spit tracing over your lips, a strand of drool pulling from the both of you. Sighing from the relief he reaches a hand down and adjusts himself, rubbing the tip flat against your clit. Fluttering your eyes shut from the wonderful stimulation you dig your nails into his bicep, thighs squeezing together. He moves to continue but you stop him with a tap on the shoulder.
“Let’s try something more fun, ey?” Parting from him you lay down on the ground, then wave him over. He raises a brow but follows, removing his pants on the way. You can’t help but hilariously notice there was no underwear that goes with it, but for now your lips are sealed. Scooted over to you beside your waist he pauses, waiting for direction.
Slapping your rib-cage twice you smile brightly at him. “Straddle me here.”
Both brows shoot up, a dubious expression appearing on his face.
“You want me t’… I could crush you.” He doesn’t seem too sure of your suggestion, but follows it anyways, curiosity guiding him. Swinging a leg over your chest he rests as where you told him, though you can tell it’s not his full body weight. “Know what yer’ doin’?”
Bringing your hands up you press down on his thighs, forcing him to straddle you properly, knees hitting the ground. He grunts at the action, still waiting for explanation.
“Of course. If you liked playing with them this much before, you’ll get a kick out of this.” Without further explaining you nudge Majima up a little closer to you and align himself between your breasts. Bringing your hands up you take a thumb and heavily lick it, trailing spit between your cleavage. His expression is humored until you grab your breasts and push them together, rocking your body, feeling the smooth friction of you together. His jaw drops a little and pants, steadying himself on the ground, arms above your head as he does a few tests thrusts between your bosom.
“Th-This is a… a new thing now?” Majima manages to say as he thrusts, the pace quickening as he goes.
“New? I just don’t think you’ve—ah… Tried it before.” His weight on your chest isn’t hurting. If anything it feels kind of nice, especially with how hot his skin feels touching yours. “By the way, try using my shoulders to hold onto instead of the ground, you’ll see a show.”
“Hmm?”, he hums lightly, then slows down to sit up and grab onto your shoulders as a handle. Thrusting between you again there’s a difference in pace, slower but able to put more force behind each hip movement, cute little pants coming from him.
It doesn’t seem like Majima knows where to look—your eyes, your swollen lips, how perfectly his dick slides between your soft breasts, spit and precum mixing and spilling together to make it oh god really fucking good.
Lifting your head forward you open your mouth, splaying your tongue out for him. With every thrust the tip of his dick rubs and taps against the flat of your tongue, tasting his precum. The added sensation makes him yelp in pleasure, removing a hand from your shoulder and fisting it through your hair.
Majima shifts forward, more of his dick accessible to your mouth. Lifting your neck off the ground you’re able to reach him fully. His thrusts become shorter and more aggressive, the hand in your hair tangling and tightening like reigns. Jaw slacked and lid heavy you notice a bit of drool trailing down his lip. Oh, how you’d love to lick and kiss it up.
Being able to time it with him so you don’t knick him with your teeth, you take the first half of him into your mouth, the base grinding between your breasts. You let his thrusts do the bobbing for you, just letting yourself focus on getting him off. Rolling your tongue along the sides of his shaft, smooth and thick; focusing your suckling onto the tip of his dick, the act which makes his deep moans go high and whiney. You squeeze your breasts together a bit tighter to hear that sound from him again, starting to love it.
Roughly he stops, backing up and off of you. Worry goes through your mind, scared you hurt him or something. Scrambling up to your knees you’re about to say something as he stands up. You’re shut up by the tip of his dick pressing against your lips, pushing in forward. Opening your mouth fully he entered farther in that before, sighing deeply.
“I-I…hah, I needed m-more…”, not speaking straight he grips both sides of your head, lacing his fingers through your hair. You’re able to feel the tips of his fingers and palms dig into the sides as he thrusts hard into your mouth, almost making you choke. You could deep throat, but his urgency superseded you.
His cock slides down your tongue and throat so easily, drool and precum pooling from the corners of your mouth. He hits the back of your throat a few times, each time makes your eyes roll back and water. You reach up with one hand and grab his ass cheek, the other one trailing down between your legs and in your underwear. You were soaking wet—of course. It almost hurt to touch yourself, though you rub your clit back and forth to his timing. You already feel yourself getting hot, moaning onto and around him. The vibrations make him hiss and gulp, grip tightening. Glancing up you notice he’s been looking—no, gazing at you. You hold eye contact with him and press your fingers inside yourself, moaning harder.
Hearing Majima moan was wonderful, but watching him was even better. His jaw slacked, tongue darting out and licking the corner of his lips. Brows were knit together in concentration, trying to keep it together. It was so fucking cute, you were almost shocked how much you’d crushed on this guy in the span of a few hours. You’re broken from your thoughts when his thrusts become uneven, words spilling from his lips.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck your mouth is so fucking good you’re so fucking good I’m gonna—”
You feel him about to pull out of your mouth but you quickly rip your hand from yourself and slap it on his ass, firmly pressing your face into his groin, nose nudging against the thin hair and muscles as you feel him pulsate. Leaning over your figure his fingers dig into your scalp, letting out a loud breathy cry. Majima blows his load, the force feeling like it coats the inside of your mouth and throat. Fuck, he wasn’t kidding it has been a while. You let him ride it out, buried deep in your mouth.
He starts softening moments after, gingerly pulling out of your mouth. You clean him off with a gentle suction as he backs off, gasping softly as the head pops out. You make a show of rolling your tongue inside your mouth, enjoying the taste. It wasn’t as bitter as you thought it’d be.
You swallow most of it when he catches you by surprise, kneeling down and kissing you deeply, tongue darting in and toying with yours. Holy shit most guys didn’t do this this was such a turn on. You kiss back just as much, mewling softly. When you two part both of your mouths are a mess, he wipes away the mess with the back of his hand. You laugh, wiping your own mouth.
“That was fun.”
“Oh no no, we’re not done yet girly…”
Majima sits cross legged on the floor, gently pushing your chest to lay down. You do as he motions, curious as to what he’s up to. A yelp and giggle escape you as he grabs your calves and drags you forward, pulling your crotch flush against his stomach. He gives you a smirk before thumbing under the sides and pulling, ripping the seams, the underwear tearing away with his pull. Your jaw drops, shocked and aroused by the action. It wasn’t an expensive or fancy pair so you didn’t really mind, but his method drove you wild.
Slinging his arms under your thighs he grabs onto your knees, lifting your legs over and resting on his shoulders. You try to look up, only being able to see the upper half of his face over the mound of your groin. His breath is hot on your labia, making your heart race.
“You expect me t’ let you finish me off an’ do nothin’ about you?” He rolls his tongue out, taking one long drag from the bottom up, just barely pressing in and teasing your clit. You whine against the pressure, the feeling a long-foreign one.
“I’m not that cruel of a man, even with my reputation.” Majima flashes a quick smile at you before he dives in, mercilessly licking and pressing into your aching cunt.
Throwing your head back you gasp, head writhing back and forth. Your hands have nothing to grab onto, hopelessly holding onto the tarp that slips from your hands. His tongue is sharp and long, penetrating you deeper than you though would be possible from oral. His tongue angles up hitting a spot inside you, making you cry out and squeeze his head with your thighs. This drives him further, pulling out and attacking your clit instead, darting different patterns around and on it. Softly sucking on it makes loud lewd noises of which makes him chuckle, the deep vibrations giving you small spasms of pleasure.
You don’t think it could get better when you feel a finger lightly prod you, slipping in easily. Another long moan draws from you, your hand finding it’s place across your eyes. He adds another soon after, fucking you gently with his hand, paying loving attention to your clit. He is experienced, you’ll give him that.
With your other hand you blindly search for something, anything of him, finding hold of his other hand splayed across your stomach. Looping a pinky finger around his you leave it at that, not wanting to make the contact any more personal than it should be. He tucks his ring finger under your hold in response, your lips parting at the contact.
Soft mews of pleasure and pleading spill from your lips, most undistinguishable from the rest. A low burning builds, making it harder to not want to squeeze down on his head and hand. Nudging your hand out of the way you can see with one eye, peering up at him.
Majima’s eye is closed, focusing on you and your body. His nose is buried into your pubic bone, lips and tongue going to work on your swollen clit. He added a third finger moments ago, pumping in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He takes quick passes to pull away to breath, then dives right back in.
“Faster… please…”, you’re able to moan out, throat dry. Barely opening his eye he glances at you. Closing it again he does as you pleaded and not only quickens the pace both in his thrusting and slurping, but pumps harder into you. Your breath quickens, your orgasm coming on fast. In desperation you grab onto his hand fully, lazily lacing your fingers between his. It’s too personal, too romantic for what this is but you need it you miss this so much.
“Ma… Goro-san!!”
The orgasm hits you, hard. Arching your back off the floor you cry, screaming out a throaty moan, then groaning through clenched teeth. Your thighs squeeze down hard around his head, his movement slowing down as it happens. The aftershock leaves your body feeling wobbly, releasing his head from your thighs grasp.
Majima pulls away and sucks on his fingers that were inside one by one cleaning them off, the sight erotic. You remove yourself from his shoulders, sliding your legs off and setting them next to him, carefully sitting up. You can already tell your hair is a total mess from the few strands in your vision.
Looking at Majima his eyes are soft, contrary to the mood from before. You can see him reaching for something to say, though it becomes lost, settling for silence. You still have his one hand intertwined with his, which you gently pull away from. You want to thank him somehow, but how? “Thanks for the great head?”
Leaning forward towards his lips you see his eye shut in anticipation. At the last moment you duck to the right, placing a feather-light kiss under his eyepatch, the fabric barely touching your nose. You can hear his mouth part ever so slightly, a soft intake of breath.
“Thank you,” you whisper, quiet as a pin drop. Pulling back with a shy demur you stand up carefully, walking over to the kitchen counter. You feel his eye on you as you open and reach into a drawer, pulling a few things out for the two of you. Coming back over you pull two cigarettes from the pack you bring, tossing it onto the ground next to him. Placing one between your lips you light the end with your lighter.
You lean over to his eye level and slip the cigarette between his lips, pressing the tips together to ignite his. Majima purses his lips and bring a hand up to hold his, tilting his head and grinding the tip against yours. He lets a stream of smoke out through his mouth before speaking.
“How’d y’ know I smoke?”
“I could taste it on you.” You turn and quickly grab an ashtray off the table, coming back and sitting near him, leaning against the wall. You pull your one knee up, resting your arm on it, the other resting against your stomach. Bending your arm you take the cigarette from your lips and blow a stream out away from him, tapping some ash into the tray.
“So, I’m gonna give you a few pills to deal with the pain that’ll return for tonight and tomorrow morning. After that you’re on your own.” You hate yourself, right back into business. The option of thinking too much of this pleasant experience will kill you. Keeping things distant will hurt less.
Majima hums at you, taking another drag. He adjusts his position, kicking a knee up, the other bent and flat against the ground. One arm he slings on his knee and rests his chin on, the other hand flat on the ground holding his cigarette.
“Where’re you from?”
His question catches you off guard, though it’s not uncommon. Being foreign got you that a lot.
“I’m from the States, but my dad got deployed to Tokyo when I was 10 and we followed. I’ve been here for 20-something years already.”
“Hn, that’s why you speak so well. And the gang y' got?” You laugh hearing of them again.
“Ah, yeah. I got know for being the hardass foreign kid in high-school that didn’t put up with pricks bullying her. I guess that reputation followed me into my 20’s, cause kids started comin’ to me to fix their problems. One thing to the next and…” You trail off, shrugging lightly. Majima hummed again, then furrowing his brow.
“Wait, so you’re sayin’ you’re in yer thirties or some shit?”
You laugh and nod. “Yeah, something like that. 32, gonna be 33 coming up. Why, you thought I was older?”
“Fuck no, I thought you was way younger! Shit, that kinda makes me feel better. Or worse, however y’ look at it.” Majima takes another drag and taps the ashes off, rolling his eye.
“Thanks, that makes me feel good. I felt awful hitting my thirties,” you laugh again, shaking your head, “and you?”
“41.” His expression seems indifferent, though something behind it tells he doesn’t like what he’s saying.
“I wouldn’t think you were 41 by how hard you were hitting the back of my throat.” He chokes taking a drag, hitting his chest with a fist.
“Christ woman, you got any fuckin’ tact?”, he chuckles out. You smirk and shake your head.
“No, I forgot that when I decided to pull a bullet out of and get dirty with a yakuza for fun.” Majima gives you an incredulous look, goofy smile there along with it.
“Well that’s one way of saying it. You could make yourself sound cooler and hav’it read like this:”, he puts the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and holds his hands out, “Foreign Girl and Gang Save’s Mad Dog of Shimano’s Life and Give Him Great Head; more on page 13.” He puts his hands down and you both laugh, hard enough to make you cough some.
“Ah fuck, don’t flatter me Majima-san. By the way, here.” Reaching over you grab the other item you brought over for him, tossing it over. Majima catches it with ease, examining it.
“Curry bread?”
“Yeah, I imagine you’re hungry after everything. I sure as shit am.” Proving that right you grab your own and tear the plastic open, taking a big bite into the soft dough. “It’s not crazy spicy or anything.”
He wastes no time tearing into his either, taking a bite. “Mm, thanks.”
Silence overcomes the two of you as you eat, though it’s far from a bad thing. Hurried glances at each others still naked forms, cracking up when one catches the other looking. Your bodies draw closer together until you’re both leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder. You rest your free hand on his thigh, of which he doesn’t move. The cigarettes have been long burned out by now, butts shoved into the corners of the tray.
“So…awkward question considering it’s now and not before, but…”
“What’s my name?”
His expression freezes, slight embarrassment on it.
“H-How’d y’ know?”
You smile at him sweetly.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone asked after things happened.” His eyebrows knit together at your response, huffing and looking away.
“Cool, so ‘m just a prick like th’ rest of ‘em.”
“Far from it. You’re staying after, and didn’t push for sex. You’re a fuckin’ gentlemen compared to them, Majima-san.” You huff out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. Majima glances back, humming.
“I see. Also don’t be so formal with me. Yer makin’ me feel like a stiff.” Laughing you look up at the ceiling and place a finger on your chin.
“Okay then… Majima-chan?” His cheeks heat up, a light anger building.
“Hey!”
“Mm, Majima-chan it is.” You grin, patting his thigh lightly. His expression softens, laughing a bit himself.
“Ah, yeah. My name, it’s…”
Another hour passes, talking about all different kinds of things. A bit of himself, the family he’s in, the Tojo clan, Kiryu who he’s been bothering the hell out of. Then some things about you. Your boys, what you guys do, your personal interests. As the conversation draws on you each start grabbing your clothes, dressing as you listen to each others stories. He pulls his pants up, but you walk over and fasten it for him, taking advantage of probably the last time you’ll be this close to him again.
Majima slides his jacket on, then his shoes. Without asking he quickly picks up the clean items from the medical box, folding up the tarp and putting them to the side. He stands in the middle of the small living room, glancing over to see if he didn’t forget anything. As he does this you run into your closet, pulling out some exercise shorts and a long sleeve, pulling them over you, foregoing a bra. Walking up to him you slide a small baggie in his coat pocket.
“Pain killers.”
“Mmh.” He nods, turning towards the door. His steps are small, contrary to how long his legs are. Finally making it to the front door he turns around. You speak first.
“Go to a real doctor, please? I’m not bad but you really should,” you chuckle out, the humor not reaching your eyes.
Fuck.
Fuck you didn’t want him to leave, you wanted to see him again.
It just wasn’t realistic.
You grab a pen and paper off the dining table, scribbling a few instructions for the med you gave him. Ripping off the part you wrote on you slip that into his pocket as well.
“Well, I’ve had a really good time. Except the spaghetti surgery, I never need more of that, hah…” You rub the back of your neck, nerves creeping up your spine. I don’t want you to go. “I’ll see you around, Majima-chan—”
“Goro.”
“W-What?”
“Goro. You called me Goro when we… w-when ya’...” His face burns up, eye darting to the side. He’s been through a rollercoaster of emotions while in this tiny apartment, but shy? Oh man.
“O-Oh, right,” you were tinging pink at the cheeks and ears as well. “Sorry, that was rude.” You purse your lips, pinching the back of your neck.
Majima walks over to where you scribbled your note before, writing something down himself and tearing it from the page. The slip is gripped in his palm as he walks back over to you. Grabbing your wrist he splays your hand open and kisses you briefly, flattening the paper in your palm and closing it into a fist. He parts from you, noses almost touching.
“Hey. No apologies here, it was nice.” Majima’s voice is low, southern accent gone from his tone. You feel like your heart is going to explode with how… tender he’s become.
“Don’t leave me hangin’ aight? Take care, Boss.” He grins, teasing you with the nickname of yours he learned from you. Quickly he turns and opens the door, slipping out and closing it behind him.
The room is quiet except for your own soft breathing, taking in what just happened. Rushed encounters like that have… happened before. You’re not afraid to admit it but this was… much sweeter. You laughed, fought, and kisses passionately. It wasn’t just that it had been a while for you, it’d been a while since you had fun like that as well. Majima did that with you. None of the acts you guys did busted his wound, thankfully. You imagine it’ll hurt more later because of it, using the muscles in the area to do a lot of the… thrusting. Laughing again you cover your eyes, remembering the paper crumpled in your hands. Un-crumpling it you glance over the script one, two, five times over.
“ I’m ready when you are. – Goro ”
A phone number is scribbled under the note. Next to it is a crude drawing of what you assume is him with angry eyebrows and a kissy mouth, a star and heart near his head. You cover your mouth and start laughing, holding the paper to your chest. Looking up to the ceiling you close your eyes letting a long sigh out.
That Majima is full of surprises.