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The door closed behind Majima with a depressed click.
He thought a trip to the all-night bathhouse would do his body good after sixteen hours spent on his feet, but no such luck. He ached everywhere, even and especially behind his eyelids.
Majima dropped his suit jacket and bowtie, then sank to the floor himself, resting his head against the wadded-up lump of his ratty, threadbare blanket.
If it had just been another night at the Grand, he wouldn’t feel like a sack of shit that had turned inside out and dragged behind a horse for half a mile. But of course Sagawa had stopped by and complicated what should have been a straightforward evening. It wouldn’t do for his collared little pet to start feeling too independent, no no. Had to nip that tendency right in the bud.
Sometimes Majima suspected that the only thing stopping Sagawa from just dragging his ass to the nearest love hotel and plowing him into the flea-infested mattress was a healthy fear of Shimano.
It didn’t stop him from beating his charge into submission on the regular, but at least it kept his hands above the belt.
Anyway, what was Majima complaining about? Once he had the cash together, he’d be free of Sagawa and this rotten town for good. All this was nothing compared to what Saejima was going through.
Saejima.
Fuck, Majima could do with those hands of his right about now. Nothing better in the whole-ass world than his bro’s brick-sized digits knuckling holes in his back muscles. If Majima concentrated he could almost feel…
…But if he went down that particular corridor of his mind palace, he ended up in some dark and twisty passage with no clear exit. No, he couldn’t get stuck thinking about Saejima.
Majima sighed and rolled over, as if a cooler spot of floor was all the relief he needed.
If only – he could admit it in the privacy of his own thoughts if nowhere else – there was someone in this town with a bit of comfort on offer. Nothing too fancy, just a strong hand and a deep, commanding voice. Someone who could take all the decisions away from him for a while.
Without him having to pay for it, preferably.
And (since Majima was fantasizing anyway) maybe someone with a monster cock and a firm ass. He could be a bit older, perhaps. Not Sagawa’s age but somewhere mid-40s, with a weary sort of wisdom hanging about his shoulders.
Someone who cared until it got annoying and then cared harder. And stubborn – stubborn enough to outlast even Majima, to weather all his bullshit and still wrap him up in a crushing embrace and smother him with affection, whether he’d earned it or not–
Majima shivered and hugged his arms. A sudden chill had run up his back, followed by a flood of feverish warmth, as though a body were pressed up against him. He’d better not be coming down with something.
Where was he? Right: his impossible man.
While he was at it, the guy probably had big, swole arms to hold him in place, and a voice like whiskey burning down your throat…
“Niisan…?”
Like that.
Majima’s breath caught in his throat, a sudden pressure against his chest. Arms – human arms, naked, powerfully muscular, hot as a steam bath – were wrapping around his body, tucking his hands against his chest. A bare thigh slid over his, entwining their legs.
“Niisa– ptahh.” The voice like a dragon’s purr seemed to get something in its mouth. “Your hair’s gotten too long…”
“Shu’up,” Majima slurred, drowsy and deliriously warm. “Y’know ya like it.”
“Not in my face.” The arms suddenly withdrew and the body behind Majima began pushing itself up on its elbow. “When did we… move to the floor?”
Majima frowned. With great reluctance, he peeled his eye open.
The room was dark, save the pane of moonlight cutting across the floor – and across the bare thighs that until recently had been entangling his legs. Majima followed them up to a perfect, sculpted torso, and from there found himself staring into the most intense pair of eyes he’d ever seen.
“Oh,” he managed, as his back broke out in goosebumps.
He swallowed. With effort, he tore his gaze back down.
…Yes, all present, correct, and of a proportion he could accept. He would hate for his dream to cook up a dick he couldn’t fit.
The impossible man swept a hand back through rumpled, dark hair and squinted, doing a visual sweep of Majima’s body just as he had done. He seemed to like what he saw, but the way his gaze locked onto Majima’s face and scrutinized it said something was amiss.
Abruptly, the impossible man shook his head, muttering, “He said this might happen…”
“Who said?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Not you, the… ngh.” He changed tack. “What year is it?”
“You’re my dream,” Majima said. “Shouldn’t you know?”
The man stared at him, mouth creasing into a concerned line. He said, “Majima-no-niisan… This will sound insane, but… I’m from the future.”
Majima rolled his eye at the appellation. “Yeah, obviously. Go on, say ‘Come with me if you want to live.’”
“I’m not a dream,” the dream protested. He sniffed the air. “We’re in Sotenbori?”
“Ten points.” Majima began unbuttoning his shirt. “Look, are we gonna talk the whole time or are you gonna rail me already?”
“Wh–” The man’s eyes widened, fracturing his stern demeanor for a moment. “Going a little fast, aren’t we?”
Off with the shirt; slacks next. “Time is money, ojisan. I wake up in five hours either way.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“Then a fucking miracle has landed in my lap and I ain’t about to waste it. Not like you’re in any position to do much but grant wishes.”
He nodded to the elephant trunk between the man’s legs, which was reacting quite naturally to the sight of a fine male specimen undressing in front of it. No throat-clearing and careful repositioning of limbs was going to hide that.
“What do I call you anyway?” Majima asked, his paper-thin Don Quijote briefs joining the rest of his clothes on the floor. Now the two of them were a matched set. “In case I’m gonna be screaming it later.”
Oh, was that a smirk he saw just now? “Dial it back a bit. You don’t even know me.”
“Yet. The word you’re leaving off there is ‘yet.’” Majima slid closer, getting directly up in the man’s space. So close he could feel his breath brushing against his upper lip. “So you’re from the future? Tell you what. I won’t go askin’ questions you can’t answer, so long as you…”
He slid a hand south, grasping the other man’s shaft firmly and giving it a little squeeze. It earned him a grunt.
“…fuck the nubile and very willing twenty-four-year-old in front of ya like you so clearly want to.”
A groan. “‘Nubile’ is a stretch.”
Majima squeezed a little tighter, dragging the noose of his thumb and forefinger up and down the cock’s length. “Gimme a name or I’m gonna stick with ‘ojisan.’”
The idea seemed to mortify him, because he stuttered out, “S-Suzuki.”
It sounded about as genuine as a furry duck, but Majima was past the point of caring. He’d pushed his imagination to the limits just coming up with Mister Right Now; so what if the guy was a few feathers shy of a mallard?
“Well, ‘Suzuki,’” he said, giving his cock another tug. “Let’s put this dream through its paces, shall we?”
“Heh.” The smirk widened. “Don’t I get a kiss first?”
Majima hesitated. Only for a moment, but that was long enough.
Without waiting for an answer, “Suzuki” went on the offensive, closing the negligible distance between them and crushing his mouth against his. Majima sucked in a startled breath, reflexively parting his teeth – which Suzuki gladly took advantage of to deepen the kiss.
Majima had gone through the motions with enough women to have a decent handle on necking, although it had been a while. Suzuki, however, seemed determined to kiss the goddamn life out of him and might just have the skills to manage it.
“Mmf… nnh… H-hold on…”
A hand reached up and cradled the back of his head, fingers sliding into his hair.
This is some lovers shit, Majima thought, heart banging in his ears as the need for air became urgent. Just why was his subconscious going along with all this?
The fingers found his hair tie and pulled it free, allowing his long locks to fall about his shoulders. But Suzuki wasn’t done playing. He caressed Majima’s still damp hair, threading his fingers between the fine, silky strands. A thumb brushed over the shell of Majima’s ear and elicited a small whimper.
Suzuki released Majima’s tongue and broke the seal of their mouths, allowing the younger man to gasp, finally, for breath. Suzuki had the audacity to chuckle at his flushed face.
“Still just a kid,” he said, and for some unholy reason the words went straight to Majima’s cock. “Roll over.”
He didn’t need telling twice. Dick wagging like a dog’s tail, Majima scrambled onto his hands and knees. He made a sound suspiciously like a whine when Suzuki pushed him down flat on his stomach and straddled his legs.
Then – at long fucking last – he felt the heft of the impossible man’s cock rubbing against his cheeks. Majima would’ve kicked his heels if it wouldn’t just prove Suzuki’s point.
But instead of shoving it in like a good dream would, Suzuki kept grinding on him, leaning his weight onto his arms as he began kneading the shape out of Majima’s shoulders.
“What are you – hey–”
Majima tried to twist around, but the massaging fingers found a tender spot just under his left shoulderblade and he sank down again, a groan stealing out of him before he could stop it. That noise was followed by several more, as Suzuki continued meticulously unlocking all his most sensitive spots.
“Nnh… mmf…”
It was just like Saejima’s. Maybe a little less like being gouged out with an earth-mover, but just as knowledgable, able to seek out and isolate every sore spot as if he’d been doing it for years. Each knot in Majima’s back began simply to melt away, leaving only a tingling warmth.
Majima succeeded at last in getting a hand between his legs and stroking a little life back into his erection. It didn’t take much. He was soaked with precome, fucking dripping with the stuff, and yet Suzuki still wasn’t sticking it in.
“Come on – enough with the foreplay bullshit–”
“You’re telling me you don’t need it?” the older man asked, digging his knuckles just-right into Majima’s spine. “If you’re going to come, then come. It’s your floor.”
Majima snarled, or tried to. It came out like more of a squeak. “F-fuck me already, dammit. It’s what you’re here for.”
“I’m here because someone messed around with time machines so much that reality started leaking,” Suzuki corrected. He placed a hand flat on the small of Majima’s back and pushed him back down when he tried to get up. “Easy. You’ll get your treat faster if you behave.”
A shiver shot through him. He hated it when Sagawa pulled out the petplay shit, but something about Suzuki’s voice, the absolute authority in which he said it, made Majima all but melt into a puddle on the spot. He sank down submissively.
Suzuki rolled his hips, his cock sandwiched firmly between Majima’s cheeks, tantalizingly close to his hole. Almost, almost…
Then that purring rumble in his ear: “Good boy.”
“Fffuck. Fuck.” Majima squeezed his eye shut, teeth clenched in an open-mouthed grimace. No good. He was gone, jetting spunk all over the floorboards and his own stomach, a high-pitched groan muffled in the crook of his arm.
It seemed to go on for a humiliatingly long time.
“Must’ve really needed that,” Suzuki said from somewhere overhead. His cock wasn’t rubbing up against Majima’s asshole anymore, but his hands now ventured south, groping each cheek and slowly spreading them. “Feel better now?”
Majima whimpered. “Gimme a second. I just–”
But what he felt next against his hole wasn’t the swollen head of Suzuki’s dick but something smaller and – wetter. He jolted at the unfamiliar sensation: fire-hot and slippery, prying into him like an invading tentacle.
His first instinct was to scramble out of reach, but Suzuki was ready for him, hands hooked around his hips ready to lock him in place when he started to move. He rewarded Majima’s skittishness by plunging his tongue deeper into his heat, lapping at his inner walls until the tension melted out of his muscles just like his back.
“Fuck – come on, this is – this is too much, you can’t just–” Majima broke off with a shudder as Suzuki’s teeth softly grazed his hole. It was so alien, so disarmingly gentle the way he kissed and licked and gently sucked. “If – if you say anything, I’ll–”
Suzuki chuckled, sending a curious vibration through his pelvis. He took his time laving his tongue over every wrinkle of Majima’s pucker as he withdrew, dribbling saliva and leaving his hole a sticky mess to complement the one he’d left on the floor.
“First time?” Suzuki asked, a puff of hot breath brushing over sensitized skin.
The amusement in his voice should’ve enraged Majima, but instead it brought a new flood of heat to his cheeks. He didn’t resist when Suzuki manhandled him onto his back again – only swallowed nervously at the sight of his cock, which somehow seemed much bigger now that it was being positioned to go inside him.
Majima shook a few tangles of hair out of his face. “So what? Dreams don’t count.”
“Guess I’ll have to try that one again when you’re awake.”
Majima fought down a shiver. “Don’t go escapin’ containment on me. This thing’s already feelin’ too real.”
This actually caused Suzuki to pause. “Should I slow down?”
A thin, warbly laugh bubbled up in Majima’s throat. “Think that horse left the paddock long before you stuck your tongue up my ass. Are we gonna do this or what?”
“Hmph.” A grin tugged at the corner of Suzuki’s mouth.
He hooked a hand under Majima’s knee, hoisting his leg aloft to adjust their positions another fifteen, eighteen percent. Then, without any further preamble, he began sinking his cock inside. Slowly at first, agonizingly slow, as much to force Majima to savor the sensation as to proceed carefully. He sucked in a breath, feeling himself being filled, stretched, that familiar burn-like ache he hadn’t experienced in far too long.
“Su– Sae–” Majima felt the burn behind his eye as well, unbidden and unwarranted, and he squeezed his eye shut before the tears could rise up. Without a thought, he covered his face with a hand.
Suzuki rumbled as he bottomed out inside him, a leonine growl of contentment. He felt so perfect, the contours of his dick lining up exactly with Majima’s most sensitive spots even before he started moving. And once he did, there was no forestalling the noises in Majima’s throat.
“Look at me,” Suzuki groaned as he thrust, their hips meeting with a smack of skin on skin.
Majima let his free hand wander down to his cock, already half-hard again and tender to the touch. But he got only a few strokes in before Suzuki batted his hand away, replacing it with his own vise grip. It startled a shout from Majima’s lips and his eye flew open, watery and unfocused.
He was unprepared for how close Suzuki’s face would be, or for the live electric current that would shoot through him when he whispered hoarsely in his ear,
“Kiryu.”
Majima’s heart leaped into his throat. It had a ring of dangerous truth about it, like Suzuki – Kiryu – was imparting a secret of the highest order.
Suddenly, the time travel story didn’t seem like such a stray detail. But if he was really from the future – if this really wasn’t a dream – then this man – this stranger was–
Majima yelped, caught off-guard as Kiryu slammed into him with renewed vigor, hitting every right spot along the way. He threw his head back, spine arching and crackling with electricity. Every drag over his prostate, every tight-fisted pump of his cock, the world tunneled narrower and narrower until the name was all he could muster:
“Kiryu… Kiryu…!”
Less screaming and more whimpering, perhaps, but who was keeping track? Freed of his composure, Majima clung fiercely to Kiryu, helpless to do anything but submit to the pleasure as it turned into burning overstimulation.
No stranger could fuck him like this. Whoever Kiryu was to him, he knew him better than he knew himself.
The second orgasm, when it took him, struck him like a bell. He pulsed all over Kiryu’s fingers and his already-sticky stomach, a cry stuck in his throat. Kiryu held him close and coaxed him through it, draining him of every knee-wobbling drop.
Things got hazy after that. Majima was aware of Kiryu laying him out on a dry spot of floor and finishing himself on some as-yet-unsoiled part of his body, and then everything became a warm muddle for a while.
When he came back to himself, it was to the sound of Kiryu chuckling softly.
“Falling asleep inside a dream?” he asked.
“Firs’ time fer everythin’.”
With enormous, and quite frankly unwarranted, effort, Majima succeeded in prying his eye open again. Kiryu was standing over him, looking perfectly statuesque in the moonlight.
“You’re too good to be true,” Majima murmured. He swallowed on a parched throat. “‘Zere some kinna dark magic I can do to make sure I see you again?”
“Heh. You’ll see me soon enough.” Kiryu crouched down, warm washcloth in hand. Such a gentleman. “Older you’s going to go feral when you hear where I’ve been tonight.”
“Why, what’s…”
Skreeet skreeet skreeet skreeeet skreeeet–
Majima hammered the top of the cheap ten-yen-store alarm clock until he finally succeeded at punching the right button to make the noise go away.
The sky outside was still dark, but already the murmurings outside Majima’s window told him the city was waking up. Cars and motorbikes were on their delivery rounds, club staff were setting up shop: the whole town of Sotenbori was reanimating from its overnight torpor and shaking off a hangover.
There was a faint trace of soap in the apartment, noticeable even against the pervasive stench of the river coming in through the window.
Less stiffly than he might have expected, Majima began pushing himself into a sitting position. His muscles burned, but not unpleasantly, like he was coming off a good bout of exercise instead of sleeping on a floor all night.
He yawned, plucked at the rumpled fabric of his shirt (would he have time to wash it, or was it straight under the iron again), and scanned his threadbare apartment for… something. Someone.
Heh. Pretty good dream if he was already missing it. If only he could remember how it ended. At least that trip to the bathhouse seemed to have done its job.
Majima began to get to his feet, but paused, his hand coming down on a patch of floorboard by his hip.
The wood seemed slightly raised. Not wet, but still swollen with moisture, as though it had recently been scrubbed down.
Majima thought back over the contents of last night’s dream. Well, that would make sense, right? He must’ve come at some point, then gotten up and gone to the washroom to…
He felt around the crotch of his trousers. Bone dry inside and out. He’d gone to bed wearing his clothes, and couldn’t have simply undressed and redressed in his sleep. So then, how…?
…
???
SUBSTORY: END