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Majima woke up to the horrifying certainty that he was being slowly crushed to death by a burning tank. As deaths went it would be one of the best he could think of, right under Kiryu killing him after weeks of fighting him everywhere in Kamurocho, but it would be a hell of a surprise given that he went to sleep in his penthouse suite.
Then the tank muttered something in his ear and the cloud in Majima’s head cleared enough for him to realize that he was just pinned underneath Saejima’s huge, warm body. Majima swallowed thickly, trying to rouse the dead weight that was his tongue long enough to wake him up, and then finally squirmed out from under Saejima’s arm as gracefully as a flopping eel.
His clock blinked the time at him and Majima stared at it in shock. He’d slept for almost five straight hours. He felt a surge of energy that made him feel like he was in his twenties again, ferocious and uncontrollable. He hadn’t slept that good in years.
And no wonder. He should package up Saejima’s massive fucking dick and sell it at the drugstore as a sleeping aid. Take it twice daily for a full night’s rest. Majima grinned toothily to himself. He reached out to shake Saejima awake so he could share his ribald brilliance but stopped at the last minute. Saejima was resting so peacefully.
He looked like some sort of slumbering wild animal in his sleep, deadly and beautiful for how dangerous he was. Majima ached fresh just seeing him.
Twenty-five years. That’s how long it’d been since he’d felt like a whole person. He’d suffered his fair share, played harder than most, and been desperately bored much of the time but he’d always felt like he’d been torn right in half and left to bleed out. Every day. Freshly ripped apart.
But now Saejima was out, like Majima had always known he would be one day, and miraculously he didn’t want him dead. He’d forgiven him his betrayal, as shocking as that was to believe. Majima would spend the rest of his life making it all up to him. He would give him the best of the dynasty he’d built for him. He would slaughter his enemies in endless droves and bring their heads back as trophies. He would raze the whole fucking city to the ground if that’s what he wanted. He would—
Shit, he should make some coffee. He was putting himself back to sleep with all this romantic bullshit.
Saejima was his sworn brother and if he could, he would cut him open and live inside him. End of story. There was no need to get so damn sappy about it.
Majima left the bedroom with one last lingering look back and headed towards the kitchen. He pulled out his coffeemaker and tried to remember how to actually make coffee. He never did that shit. Usually he had one of his boys make him food but he’d told them all to babysit themselves for a few days while he helped Saejima acclimate to the wonders of the modern world. He’d suspected (hoped) that bone-breaking fucking might be on the agenda and his boys were still too soft and delicate to see any of that.
While he was thinking about it Majima grabbed his phone. He listened to it ring as he studied the coffeemaker and was nearly proud when Minami picked up on the second ring. His boys knew that he would cut their ears off and make them wear them as necklaces if they didn’t take his calls promptly but he could still be impressed when the lessons sunk in.
Especially with Minami. Majima thought that the boy had a lot of potential, even considering how fucking stupid he was. He was way too impulsive and flashy and just brain-meltingly moronic but he had a lot of passion. He reminded Majima of someone but he couldn’t quite place it. He just knew that he was glad he’d found the idiot before somebody else had snapped him up.
“The Chairman’s daughter is going back to school today,” Majima began in lieu of a greeting. “You’re going to go keep an eye on her, make sure nobody starts any shit.”
“Yes, sir,” Minami said in comprehensible but slurred speech. Majima thought it likely that he hadn’t woken him up so much as interrupted his night still in progress. Such a dumb shit. He told his boys over and over again about the importance of a good night’s rest and they still went buck-wild seven days a week. He really had coddled them too much. Boss Shimano would be so disappointed in him. He would have to work harder to beat some sense into them.
“And what will happen to you if something happens to Haru?”
“You’ll cave my chest in with a bat and then make me swallow it until it comes out of my ass, sir,” Minami said promptly, sounding a little more sober.
“Good, good.” Majima stared in confusion as his coffeemaker made a popping noise at him but soldiered on nevertheless. “And what will happen if any of you useless fuckers ever look at my little Haru as anything other than your sweet baby sister?”
There was a pause. Majima knew that Minami hadn’t forgotten—he wasn’t that dumb—but he clearly found it too disturbing to repeat.
Majima coughed pointedly.
Minami told him reluctantly and Majima’s face split open with joy at his own creativity. No one was ever going to disrespect Haru, not while he was alive. Fuck, nobody was going to even get close enough to potentially respect Haru. She wasn’t going to talk to boys until she was his age.
His coffeemaker was clearly a piece of crap, Majima decided as he abandoned it smoldering in the sink. He would get a new, better one and learn how to use it. Saejima couldn’t be counted on for that. Yasuko had done all that kind of stuff for him and now she was gone (Majima glared fiercely in the mirror as he shaved) and it was his fault that she was gone because he hadn’t taken care of her like he should have and he couldn’t be his bro’s little sister but he could learn to take care of him nearly as well. It couldn’t be any harder than taking care of the Majima Family. It would probably involve nearly the same number of bruises.
“Why’s your kitchen on fire?” Saejima asked groggily from the door of his bathroom.
“It’s not on fire. Just a little smoke, no problem.” Majima sniffed and turned towards him, holding out his shaver.
Saejima took it and looked at it with bleary eyes. “Don’t know how to use this thing. Dontcha have a regular razor?”
“Useless old man,” Majima said with a loud sigh but he opened the cabinet and pulled out his best razor, sharp as his blade and nearly as slick. He snapped it open and was going to hand it to Saejima before he changed his mind. He reached out and grabbed Saejima’s hip, pulling fruitlessly at it until Saejima finally stepped closer to him.
He lathered up his rocky face and set the edge of the knife on his cheek. Saejima looked intensely at him because that was just the way that Saejima looked at everything but there was trust and growing arousal there as well and Majima knew that that was just for him. He was greedy for it.
The slick sound of the blade sliding across his cheeks and chin filled the room and Majima breathed out hard at the thought of how easy it would be to cut deeper. He’d learned so many new ways to hurt a man since Saejima had gone inside. Instead he kept his motions light and efficient until finally he was wiping off the last bit of lather from Saejima’s face.
“Look at that. Almost respectable,” Majima murmured and then trailed the razor down his face, down his neck, down until the tip at the top rested in the dip of his collarbone. He shuddered out another breath and couldn’t resist pressing in, just a little, just enough to make a small pinprick of blood pool up under the tip.
Saejima grunted and grabbed his hand. He shoved it against the wall behind them and then boxed the rest of him in as well, his other hand curling around his hip. Saejima pressed his hand harder and harder against the wall until Majima had to drop the razor or risk breaking his fingers and then Saejima pushed just a little harder before leaning closer.
“Nothing respectable about us,” Saejima told him solemnly and then released his hand. He reached down, hands not so much caressing as clutching, and then picked him up like he was a half-empty sack of flour. It was ridiculous how strong he was. Majima had fought lots of men over the years, men with more style or more finesse but he’d never thrown his fists against a man with as much raw, terrifying strength as Saejima. He could struggle against him for days and never once feel those hard muscles shake with exertion. It was intoxicating.
Saejima carried him out of the bathroom, kissing him with an unyielding, steady passion. And, fuck, Majima felt like one long nerve of want under the force of it. He wanted to throw himself against the solid wall that was his sworn brother over and over again until he shattered.
He was dropped unceremoniously back onto the bed and then Saejima was pushing down on him, ignoring his wild struggling, folding one of his huge hands around his leg like a shackle when he tried to force him off. Saejima just bore down harder on him and pulled off his clothes like his punches and kicks were nothing and then thrust into him with little preamble or warning beyond his thick fingers slickly rubbing over him. Majima screeched in delight. How well Saejima knew him. Two decades later and he still knew him better than any man alive or dead.
They were going to turn this city inside out together.
Seeing Saejima sitting in one of the lieutenant’s chairs across from him was like a fever dream come true. Majima wanted to grab the other lieutenants by the neck and force them to look at his sworn brother, Taiga “18 Counts” Saejima, gracing their worthless presences with his own.
Majima had to be more respectable in these sorts of meetings, especially now, and normally it bored him to tears but everything was different now. His bro was sitting across from him, still and hard as a deific statue, and at the front of the room—
Fuck, just looking at Kiryu made him want to smash everything in the room to pieces in joy. Finally. Fucking finally. Dojima was a good kid and Majima thought he would be a strong leader in time but Kiryu was meant for this. People couldn’t spend five seconds around him without wanting him to guide them. Majima obviously admired his fighting skills—Kiryu was an unparalleled artist in a fight—but moreover he recognized that Kiryu belonged at the very top. He’d known it from the beginning.
“Are you certain Dojima can be trusted to obey?” The question came from one of the newer lieutenants and Majima’s eye narrowed in irritation at his stupidity. The man had a pissant little family that just happened to stumble into something useful and he thought he could speak to his betters like he was worth anything.
"The Sixth Chairman is invaluable to the Tojo Clan,” Kiryu said, his voice even and low. “I trust him completely.”
And to be fair, Kiryu’s biggest problem other than not being more open to scrapping all the time was that he trusted fucking everybody. Kiryu seemed to think that all people had this secret core of goodness that he could tease out by giving them chances and while Majima could agree that it worked out more times than he would have thought, it had also come back to bite him in the ass.
Still, Majima would bet on Kiryu’s trust more than some moron’s opinion any day. And Kiryu had nothing to worry about now that he had Majima and Saejima at his back. They would crush his foes into paste for him at a word. Gleefully in Majima’s case and thoroughly in Saejima’s.
“I wonder what our newest brother thinks,” the asshole said, actually setting his attention on Saejima in a casual way like they knew each other, like he had any right to talk to him. “Dojima’s actions nearly led to him killing his own oath brother.”
And Majima always tried to be respectable during these meetings but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing his head back and cackling at the idiot’s pathetic attempt to start something. The men around him shifted uncertainly.
Saejima just slowly turned the full force of his steady gaze on the man, staring until the asshole blinked nervously. When he spoke his tone was granite wrapped around steel, “What the Chairman says goes. That’s what I think. That’s how it was before I went in. Don’t think that’s changed.”
The man opened his mouth and then closed it. Kiryu gave Saejima the barest of approving nods and seeing it Majima was pretty sure he was going to pop a boner right there in front of everybody. He imagined Saejima and Kiryu throwing strong punches at each other and shuddered.
He’d never survive the experience. It was already the most erotic thing he’d ever imagined. In reality it would definitely kill him. Fuck, he’d probably cream his pants like a teenager before they so much as bruised each other.
He was going to add it in as number one on his to-do list.
The roar of the crowd in the arena of Purgatory was reaching a fever-pitch and Majima lounged deeper in his booth as he watched. He’d hoped that they’d gotten some stronger motherfuckers but Saejima was beating them down like they were cotton candy. It was barely a warm-up. Embarrassing.
The woman clinging to his side tensed and then shivered in pleasure when Saejima finally hit the red-haired kickboxer so hard that he went down for the count. Majima grinned in solidarity with her. He understood exactly where she was coming from.
“Think my cue’s coming up,” he told the woman and she pouted along with the other women in the booth before nodding and releasing her hold on his arm.
“Will you win, Mr. Majima?” the boldest of the women asked, curling her hair around her finger, and he grinned wider, gesturing to one of the wandering servers to fill up their drinks.
“One way or another,” he said and the women seemed satisfied with his answer. Or maybe by the expensive booze he’d given them. The women that worked in Purgatory were something else. He never should have let that damn voyeuristic pervert take it back from him.
Majima made his way down to the ring, feeling his muscles tighten with anticipation as the crowd’s murmur grew louder. The murmur became a roar as the announcer shouted out his name and he entered the cage, listening to the applause with undisguised glee.
Saejima stood on the other side of the ring, watching him perform for the crowd and his attention charged Majima up more. Look at me, he wanted to tell him. This is all for you. It’s always been all for you.
But Majima didn’t want to get stuck in another maudlin lovey spiral when he had a fight to win. The odds were against him, to be sure, but Majima always went into a fight expecting to win. That’s just what men did. The fact that he could count the number of fights he’d ever won against Saejima on one hand didn’t matter.
“You ready, bro? Ready to get your ass kicked?” Majima called out, ripping his jacket off and throwing it out of the cage before it closed.
Saejima rolled his giant shoulders, barely bloodied from his earlier fights, and lifted up his fists again. “Show me a real fight.”
And Majima flew at him like a bat out of hell, faster than lightning and twice as deadly. Saejima countered most of his attacks and took the others like they were nothing and it felt so good Majima wanted to scream.
Fighting Saejima was like trying to destroy a mountain with your fists. Sometimes you could knock pieces off and if you looked closely, you might be able to see the progress you’d made but for the most part at the end you were bleeding and exhausted and the mountain was still sitting there, waiting for you to come back and try again. It challenged him like nothing else, forced him to become stronger, faster, smarter, and left him so damn pumped up that he could have followed up a fight with a thousand more.
If there wasn’t an equally exhilarating thing to do after a good fight, that is. Majima howled when Saejima slammed him bodily against the cage and then punched him hard on the neck when he fell down. He stayed on his knees for a second, gasping for air, and when he tried to sweep his leg out to flip back up, the muscles refused. Majima coughed and then sneezed once, sharply, before falling down onto his face.
Beautiful. Majima listened to the stunned pandemonium of the crowd’s cheers as he pressed his cheek to the cool floor beneath them. He heard a heavy thud that was probably Saejima dropping to his knees in front of him and he heard him panting low, heavy like a grizzly bear.
Majima needed to get his legs working again because he wanted to get Saejima off of this stage before he lost all control and threw himself at him like some sort of horny princess. He forced himself back up to his knees and there was that intense stare focused in on him. Majima wondered if Saejima even heard the crowd, if their adoration meant anything to him.
Usually it meant something to Majima but at the moment he was perfectly content to yank Saejima out of the ring with him, even as the crowd shouted for more, and he pulled him blindly out of the arena and through the labyrinthine back areas of Purgatory.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Majima said as he threw open one of the doors. The few men in the room stared at him in shock and he supposed in retrospect he did make quite a sight, bloodied and bruised and practically vibrating with energy. But at the time he couldn’t think beyond his desperate need to shove Saejima’s huge cock down his throat. “I said, get the fuck out!”
The men scattered and Majima whirled on Saejima. They came together in a furious clash of tongues and teeth, grappling towards the same goal but doing it so fiercely that it was another battle. Saejima reached down, squeezing his ass and Majima dug his fingers into the brightening bruises on Saejima’s massive shoulders. Finally Majima pushed him away long enough to drop down to his knees and tear open his baggy pants. And then there it was again, the fucking peak of this mountain, Saejima’s heavy, monstrous cock.
He went down on him like a starving man because that’s what he felt like. Even though they’d fucked more times the other day than he was used to anymore, Majima still wasn’t satisfied and he would never be completely satisfied, not when he could have this again whenever he wanted. Which was always.
Saejima’s hand slid down to grip into his hair as he sucked on him, tightening and loosening in time with his movements. Suddenly the grip tightened more and Saejima was yanking him up so fast that it was a miracle Majima didn’t bite a chunk of him off. What a fucking waste that would be.
He brought him up to kiss him again and then they were moving towards the center of the room. Majima’s legs hit the back of a panel and Saejima turned him around, pushing him down over it like he wasn’t struggling against him with everything he had. As Saejima yanked his pants down and slid against him, Majima accidentally hit a switch on the panel and all the monitors in the room turned on. The light from them was blinding but Majima didn’t notice in his zeal to get that cock into him.
Of course this was the one time Saejima was distracted away from the task at hand. “What's that?”
“Ugh, fucking, uh, cameras set up all over the city, come on.” Majima reached back but Saejima just pressed down harder on him, pinning him in place. Majima moaned in frustration. “Just turn them off.”
“We were in that corner yesterday, weren’t we?” Saejima yanked his head up by his hair to force him to look at one of the monitors. Even as he did this he finally centered his cock against him and pushed in, slow and steady.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Majima said, his voice stunned and strained with pleasure. Saejima let go of his hair and let him get his hands up under him enough to begin pushing back.
“Yeah? You knew there was a camera there?”
“Huh?” Majima squinted at the monitor again even as he pushed back harder, wanting that slow drag and pull to become a relentless battering ram inside of him. “Oh, yeah. Guess I knew. Used to watch these spycams when I ran this place. Fucking boring couple of years, bro.”
“Hmmmm.” Saejima made a low sound in the back of his throat and shoved him down again, fucking into him so hard that the panel under them shook in its base. “Pervert.”
The dots connected for Majima and he laughed, an unstable sound that warped into an eager moan as he rode out the thrusts, unable to do anything in his position but take it. “Didn’t remember that, uh, yesterday.”
“Mmmmm-hmmm.” Saejima didn’t sound convinced. Majima didn’t blame him. He wished that he had remembered and that he’d gotten a little farther with Saejima in that back alley. They kept a tape of all of these video feeds. He’d have to remember that the next time they were walking around in the city. Saejima wouldn’t be able to memorize all their locations just from the monitors but Majima knew where they were.
“Fuck. Fuck!” Majima stretched his less-trapped arm down enough to stroke himself at the thought of making secret sex tapes all over the city. That fucking hobo-loving spy would know but he knew everything anyway. And Kiryu trusted him.
Or maybe he’d just take this place back. Purgatory was a better playground for people like him anyway. Majima grinned darkly at the monitors even as he felt the rush of his oncoming release hit him as hard as Saejima’s right fist.
His to-do list was just getting bigger and bigger.
“Y’see that asshole selling shit to those girls?” Majima gestured with his chopsticks before shoveling a big piece of pork in his mouth. That spy’s men shouldn’t have been eating their dinner in the office if they didn’t want someone to steal it. “He’s a fucking scam-artist. Sold one of my boys baking powder.”
“What’d you do?” Saejima shifted on the ground, warm and solid against his shoulder. Majima offered him up a piece of pork and he leaned forwards to eat it. He took another piece himself and as he chewed it he trailed his finger idly over a long, ugly scar on Saejima’s arm.
It bothered him that he hadn’t been there when he’d gotten it. Majima wanted to take his knife and carve a path over it until he’d made a new scar, one that belonged only to him.
But he supposed that was greedy. He’d offer up all the scars on his body if Saejima wanted to return the favor but he couldn’t grow a new eye for him to cut out. And he probably should hang onto his other one. Majima swallowed the pork down.
“Broke my boy’s face in three places. I’ve told them all a thousand times they’re too stupid to rot their brains more with that stuff.” Majima slurped up some noodles and watched with disapproval as the girls on the screen shoved something into one of their purses. Their mothers would be so ashamed of them.
“Hmmmm.” Saejima sounded approving. “You know how to handle your men.”
“The work never ends,” Majima said with a long-suffering sigh. He surprised himself by yawning wide. Fuck, he was going to start keeping a regular sleep schedule like an accountant as this rate. “We should go. Unless you want to wait and see if they try to kick us out. Might be fun.”
Saejima caught him by the chin before he could pull away and kissed him hard. Majima felt that warm, sappy glow burn bright in his stomach and he grinned like a shark at Saejima before sliding back into his lap.
“Don’t start shit you can’t finish,” Majima warned and reached out for his knife.
“I can always finish it,” Saejima promised and Majima knew that his bro never lied. A promise made was a promise kept and the promise in his intense stare told Majima everything he needed to know about the future.
It was going to be fucking great.