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The salty ocean air was the first thing that greeted Majima in Onomichi. He felt the wind brush through his hair, pushing it gently back off his forehead while the smell of the sea left its faint mark there as he disembarked from his taxi. Majima had never exactly liked the summer—the idea of slathering himself in sunscreen to keep his expansive tattoo from fading in the scorching hot sun never particularly appealed to him—but as he stepped out of his cab to the greeting of a pleasant breeze, he couldn’t help but be at least temporarily charmed by the place.
It was July and it was hot, but the beating rays of the sun were much more gentle than he’d expected and the light weight of his shirt kept him from sweating too terribly, though the chain on his neck did sit a bit warmer atop his chest than usual. Beneath the fabric of his white shirt, only black clouds and the occasional sakura petal could be glimpsed when the wind moved it too far from its place. Ordinarily Majima would have been more eager to cover his ink in a new town, but on this particular trip he didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t even bothered to look for a shirt that would cover the clouds that decorated his arms nearly to his elbows, letting the edges of the swirling ink see the sun beneath the hem of the short sleeves. The tattoo that laid over the back of his thighs was covered completely by a pair of black lightweight slacks that lead down to his signature silver-tipped snakeskin shoes, the only holdover from his usual look. Even his eyepatch had been packed away in the duffel bag slung over his shoulder in favor of a pair of less threatening aviator shades.
Majima’s outfit definitely still screamed yakuza, mainly owing to the visible tattoos, but it gave no indication that he was the notorious Mad Dog of Shimano, though he was sure that Tojo notoriety wouldn’t have spread to the far reaches of Hiroshima and the name would be meaningless here anyway. He figured that if he was going to take a vacation, he may as well dress for it whether or not it signaled trouble to any local punks. Besides, vacations were supposed to be fun and if he did find himself in a bit of trouble with those punks, he wouldn’t complain too much if he got to throw a few punches to help him relax.
He was sure that when Daigo had told him to take a vacation, that wasn’t exactly what he intended, but how could Daigo blame him for doing the only thing he’d always done for fun? It wasn’t like his penchant for fighting was some well-kept secret, and it stood to reason that he’d need to unwind somehow. He had promised himself not to seek out any confrontation, but if someone else wanted to engage him, who was he to say no? The thought of teaching some local rabblerousers a lesson almost made Majima giddy.
He strode down the street, his eyes drawn out to the glittering sea where gulls were soaring overhead with their distinctive screeches dotting the audio landscape atop the lapping of waves and the mechanical rumbling motors of boats that cut through the water as they passed closely by the street.
Majima was completely unused to the calming aura that radiated off the quaint buildings and the simple people, much unlike the frantic bustle of Kamurocho. Each small restaurant or food stand or bar was staffed and patronized by smiling faces, none of whom seemed to be particularly concerned by anything at all. Majima didn’t understand it. He already felt jumpy, the normalcy of this place setting him on edge. He wanted to do something—knock some teeth in, bash some skulls, cause just a bit of incidental property damage to let him drop some bills and be on his way. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was already fighting it off. He had to remember that this was practically an order, which made this mandated relaxation a job. And he always followed his orders to the letter for work.
“You work too hard, Majima-san. And I don’t say that often,” Daigo said.
Majima waved him off, the notion ridiculous. “‘S nothin’. I like the work.”
Daigo’s eyebrows deepened in their furrow. “I think you should get out of the city for a bit. You could stand to relax for a while. It’s summer, enjoy it. The past year has been—”
“Hasn’t been nothin’ that I ain’t handlin’ just fine,” Majima snapped.
Daigo’s mouth pressed into a firm line, his disapproval readily apparent, though he said nothing, clearly sympathetic. Majima was stubborn and even if everything that had happened last year had bothered him, he’d never show it. Certainly not to Daigo, maybe not to Saejima, and possibly not even to himself.
Daigo wouldn’t dwell on it, but he also wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Pack a bag. Go somewhere warm. Don’t get into any trouble.”
Well, he’d already followed two out of his three orders so if he failed a third, that would still be considered a passing job, right? He didn’t have to be a perfectionist about it.
Still, no matter what his instincts told him, he had promised himself he’d at least try to actually take a load off for once, although every time he passed by someone else “taking a load off” he felt his skin crawl. He wasn’t built for shit like that. A mad dog knows no rest.
When he passed a large standee of some sort of weird, orange-headed mascot, he had to fight the urge to draw on it or steal it or do anything disrespectful to it, his playful, prankish urges so quickly taking over his brain. He would have to ignore those, too, though the image of the silly-looking mascot lingered in his mind as he was continuously inspired to deface it in some way.
The walk up the stairs to Majima’s rented house seemed so much more daunting when he turned to see how many stairs he’d already climbed, realizing he still had many more to go. Sweat beaded on his brow, though he was almost grateful for the inadvertent workout, feeling a bit more in his element when he was exerting himself. The key would be under the door, he was told, and about three quarters of the way up, he found what he assumed was the small house that was to be his for the weekend, decorated with a distinctive green wooden door surrounded by quaint ceramic planters that would have been immediately smashed or stolen if this was Kamurocho, though these seemed to be quite old and untouched. The woman who owned the house had mentioned the bright red and pink flowers that adorned the boxes beside the wooden green door, and this house seemed to fit the bill. Upon inspection under the welcome mat, Majima found a small key and hastily retrieved it and undid the lock, ready to drop his bag and sit down.
The interior of the house was just as quaint as the exterior, all of the furniture seemingly having been part of it for at least a couple of decades, dating back maybe even to the seventies. It was all a bit older, though clearly well taken care of, not a spot of dust around. Majima kicked off his shoes at the genkan and wandered in, tossing his bag onto the couch as he surveyed the space. It was fairly small, though it seemed to be sized similarly to the other houses he’d passed since arriving. The front door led directly into a living room that sat next to a small kitchen with a bathroom situated between the two. The upstairs was equally quaint with just a bedroom, a bathroom, and a few closets scattered throughout. Majima clicked his tongue and breathed out a deep sigh as he returned to the couch and dropped down onto it beside his belongings.
The house was quiet, save for some ambient air carrying the sounds of Onomichi through the cracked window and the steady ticking of an old cuckoo clock that sat perched on the wall. Majima sighed again a bit more impatiently as he slid down further into the couch, though he didn’t quite feel the relaxation coming on. His fingers drummed along the armrest, their quick rhythmic tapping falling swiftly out of sync with the oppressive clock’s ticking.
Relax.
Majima slid down again, almost comically deep, his next sigh bordering on a groan.
Relax!
He turned his head toward the window. The lack of police and ambulance sirens was increasingly disconcerting, replaced instead by the quiet chatter that occasionally passed by or the sound of birds’ wings fluttering. It was all calm, no action. It made Majima antsy.
Relax, damn it!
…
Nope.
Majima pushed himself up off the couch with a frustrated groan, pacing the room as he tried to formulate a plan in his head. He needed to do something before he went out of his mind with boredom. He was rattling around too many thoughts in his head, and if he was going to sit around and be alone with them, he needed to at least quiet them down, and there was only one thing he could think of to aid with that.
He’d passed numerous bars on the way and had taken note of them, practically knowing that this was an inevitability, heading out of the house almost as quickly as he’d decided to go. It had been a while since he’d been to a true snack bar and while it wasn’t always his favorite, he thought that perhaps a conversationally inclined mama was exactly what he needed to keep himself from going insane. The walk wasn’t too terribly long, though he knew that he’d be in trouble climbing the mountainous stairs back to the house if he got too smashed.
But that sounded like a problem for Later Majima.
There was a bar not too far from the foot of the hill that he had spotted and without a second thought, he headed there as soon as he’d gotten down the seemingly endless stairs. The bar was quiet—understandably so, it had only opened maybe fifteen minutes prior to Majima’s arrival. He took a seat at the bar and ordered, exchanging vague pleasantries with the mama who was prettier than he’d expected for such a small town. The evening was quiet, and his talks with the mama were pleasant enough, though with no greater plans ahead of him, he still felt a bit lost. He sipped drink after drink, and even when the alcohol had begun to take hold of his brain, all he could do was dread the climb back up the stairs. He couldn’t look forward to batting with his bro or tormenting Nishida. He wished he could look forward to fighting his Kiryu-chan, but those days were long gone now.
When he’d decided he had his fill of pleasant company and mediocre alcohol, he rose from his seat and tossed the money for the bill atop the bar, making a quiet exit. He paused outside to pull a cigarette from his pocket, enjoying the smoke as he strode down the street to investigate what other means of entertainment were housed in the little town.
To Majima’s dismay, his initial assessment had been correct—as far as entertainment was concerned, there wasn’t much going on besides restaurants and snack bars. He’d already had more alcohol than he deemed necessary, deciding to try his luck at one of the fresh seafood places down by the docks, hoping that maybe if he could get some food in his stomach he wouldn’t feel quite so unsettled.
The place he chose was a bit dumpy, but that was on purpose. Majima had always been a staunch believer that the less emphasis was placed on decorum in a restaurant, the better the food was. Fortunately, that held true as he enjoyed fresh saltwater eel and oysters to his stomach’s content, devouring any fish the chef put in front of him, which was apparently much more than he was used to serving judging by his hesitation to continue bringing Majima food past the first dozen rounds. Majima didn’t care—he was here to enjoy the local food and relax or whatever bullshit Daigo had told him to do, so he’d indulge if he wanted.
After an inordinate amount of fish was eaten and the bill was paid, Majima once again found himself wandering the streets of Onomichi, the boredom setting in much more quickly than Majima would have initially expected. He wasn’t really sure where to go from there, the imminence of boredom a harrowing threat looming at the forefront of his mind. He found himself wandering the streets again, hoping for something—anything—with which he could occupy himself. The choices were limited, and he’d already exhausted both the bar and food option. There were no batting cages, there was no arcade, there was no gambling, nothing that Majima would usually fill his days with.
He walked for what felt like an hour, finding himself quickly ending up at the edge of the city before turning back, only to find another edge soon after, seemingly bouncing around from one corner to another over the course of his wandering. It was just as he feared—there was absolutely, positively nothing to do here. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve Daigo torturing him like this, but he was sure he’d die of boredom before he managed to find something to do.
That was until he found his orange savior, at least.
Majima had considered many possibilities for how the evening would go, but when he rounded the corner to spot the biggest, roundest, orangest mascot head he’d ever seen in his life, he realized that he hadn’t considered something quite this stupid. Majima hung back, watching the mascot strike a ridiculous pose, making all the kids flocked around him screech with delight.
He’d seen some stupid-looking mascots in his day, but never had anything topped this. It was even dumber in person, much sillier than the cutout he’d seen on his walk to the house. He couldn’t even figure out where to start with the getup, and the ridiculous orange head was putting him straight into comedy territory. Majima could barely contain his amusement thinking about whatever poor schmuck was stuck inside that dumb thing. He lingered discreetly across the street for a while, lighting a cigarette just to watch the asshole cheese it up by the docks for the kids, wishing desperately that he could hear the guy so he could hear just how much being inside that suit made him want to die.
Majima was grateful for the orange man and his stupid outfit. Watching him debase himself in front of children was the first thing that had put a genuine smile on Majima’s face in days, maybe even weeks. It was the little things, he figured,
As he turned down another street to carry on with his evening, he nearly forgot about the orange man, heading up another long set of stairs to visit a shrine he’d heard mention of on his wandering adventure. The sun had already mostly set, though he was insistent on not being cooped up in the house any more than he had to be, otherwise he might actually lose it. Climbing the stairs got his blood pumping a bit and got him feeling almost normal again, though he was less than impressed when he got to the shrine.
“Ya seen one, ya seen ‘em all,” he thought to himself as he hmphed with indifference.
He strolled through the nearby cemetery, thinking that it was only marginally cooler than the shrine, but also that it would have been way cooler if there were ghosts in it. He made the begrudging decision to descend the stairs again, intending to head back to the house in complete and utter defeat, his shoulders slouching as he walked down the stairs, his steps heavy and laden with disappointment.
He slunk down the sidewalk toward the stairway leading to his house, wondering how in the hell he was going to convince his mind to wind down for the night. Even the alcohol at the bar hadn’t given a solution for that problem, to his dismay.
Suddenly, though, he was startled out of a train of thought about his misery by the sound of a large crash and the screams of four—no, five men. Before he knew where he was going, he’d taken off running. He had no idea what he was getting into, but he was promised excitement and—if he was lucky—maybe even a fight.
His heart pounded wildly in his chest, his mind racing in all different directions and for the first time on his “vacation,” as he sprinted headlong into the first trouble he could find, he finally felt at ease.
He skidded to a stop after only a minute, spotting those five men he’d presumably just heard screaming being tossed around like they were absolutely nothing. Majima was both delighted and slightly confused to see that their assailant was none other than Orange Man himself, still dressed in his idiotic getup with that giant dumbass head. It was almost comical watching these men being thrown around by a man dressed as an orange, but Majima couldn’t help being impressed by the mascot’s skill. He was taking them all down with ease—five men at once was no easy task, especially with that cumbersome costume on.
As he watched the fight, there was something that caught Majima’s eye with one particular punch when the mascot's shirt lifted a bit too high on the follow-through—a flash of an inked dragon on the man’s back, muscled outlines cutting through the flesh beneath the tattoo.
Oh, no way.
No fucking way.
Majima could hardly contain himself. He couldn’t be certain from sight alone, but he was positive that he knew that dragon, and on top of everything else—the form, the style, the raw power, it was all too familiar.
He’d know that man anywhere.
A million thoughts ran through his head all at once, unsure where to even start as he watched the mascot finish up with those meddlesome punks. More than anything else, though, he was trying to figure out why watching this orange beat the hell out of these guys got him so worked up. He could practically see himself in their place, though obviously with much more strength and skill than they possessed, and the thought got his blood pumping, sending a confusing flurry of adrenaline toward his crotch, his throat going dry. Majima could almost feel the force of one of his punches connecting with his jaw and he couldn’t contain his excitement. He had already been brimming with restless energy and this was exactly what he needed to push him over the edge into horny territory. He reached down to adjust himself, his arousal becoming more evident than his pants could hide—the thin cotton pants didn’t provide nearly as much aid in concealment as his usual leather pants. When finally the orange stood panting over the hooligans’ groaning, battered bodies, Majima found his voice.
“Pretty good for a giant fuckin’ orange,” Majima called out, crossing his arms, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t ridiculously turned on by that fight.
The mascot turned its giant head as quickly as it seemed was possible, nearly toppling the oversized smiling orange from his shoulders. He froze when his cartoonish eyes landed on Majima.
“Majima-no—” the mascot said before quickly stopping himself by clearing his throat.
“Didn’t know they taught Komaki style in the produce aisle,” Majima teased, approaching the orange. “Used to know a guy who could fight like that. Pretty impressive.”
The mascot was frozen in place as Majima stopped just in front of him, sizing him up.
“Ya got a name, orange?” Majima asked, lifting a teasing eyebrow, watching in delight as the mascot shifted awkwardly.
“I—erm…” The mascot seemed stuck, hmming as if indecisive about something.
Majima seemed to detect his struggle. “Where’s that energy? C’mon, I saw ya with those kids earlier, can’t ya humor a guy?”
Clearing his throat again, the orange spoke with a deep voice that was clearly brightened performatively, though it wavered with hesitation at first before seeming to commit to the act.
“I… I’m the pride of Onomichi, Ono Michio!” he said with a weak flourish.
Majima let out a satisfied chuckle. “So what’s with the getup, Ono-chan? ‘S a bit, uh… eclectic.”
Majima could have sworn he heard the mascot let out something somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Majima assumed he was thinking, “You have no right to judge,” and though he couldn’t confirm it, it made him chuckle nonetheless.
“I-It’s my charming hassaku face, my steaming Onomichi ramen hat, cute fish pouch, cool boots, vital to any fisherman, and my bold and trendy Ono shirt,” Ono said, though a bit less convincing than before.
Nearly instantly, Majima had erupted into laughter, doubled over clutching at his sides, nearly collapsing to the ground in his fit of amusement.
“Holy shit!” he cried. “Ya got a whole little thing for that! Oh fuck me, that’s funny as shit!”
Ono shuffled in place and Majima swore he could hear him grumbling as Majima finally concluded his outburst. Before Ono could say anything, Majima slung his arm around the mascot’s shoulders, pulling him close, though not so close as to knock off the heavy head.
“Tell ya what, Ono-chan. I’m bored. This town’s a little bland for me and I could use some company. Whaddya say, ya got any plans for the evenin’? Any fine hassaku ladies ya gotta meet up with?” He raised his eyebrows. “Hassaku fellas, maybe?”
“That’s… I’m—“ the orange started in a much deeper tone of voice before Majima cut him off.
“Hey c’mon, that ain’t how Ono Michio talks, is it?” Majima asked, moving in close to place his hand atop the mascot’s chest, which Majima could already feel was thick and soft beneath the fabric of his bold and trendy Ono shirt. “Don’t wanna disappoint an excited tourist who finally gets to meet the ‘pride of Onomichi,’ do ya?”
Ono stiffened beneath his hand and Majima could practically feel the shudder running through his body. It made his heart race just a little faster, the thrill of knowing he could make Ono feel this way getting to him already.
The orange cleared his throat. “Ok,” he said with a bit more of that forced hassaku charm, though not much.
“That’s more like it!” Majima said, clapping Ono on the back as he began to lead him away from the writhing bodies of the men Ono had beaten down just a few minutes ago. “I’m Majima, by the way, since ya didn’t ask.”
“Right. Erm. Nice to michi,” Ono said, that little theatrical flare, however weak, getting a chuckle from Majima.
“You’re kinda cute, Ono-chan. Anyone ever tell ya that?” Majima said, wrapping his arm around Ono’s waist, pulling him close until their heads bumped. He stopped, turned to rest a hand on Ono’s chest before he pressed his index finger to Ono’s collarbone, dancing it suggestively across his shoulder. A mischievous smirk crossed his face. “We could have a lot of fun together, ya know.”
“You… you want that?” Ono asked, seeming a bit shocked. “Still?”
“‘Course,” Majima said with a devilish light chuckle, lowering his voice. He quickly pushed Ono stumbling into a nearby alley, much cleaner than the alleys he was used to. He cornered Ono against the wall, his arms firmly planted on either side of Ono’s hassaku face. “Don’t think I can wait for it, either. Even if we only just met.”
He heard Ono swallow hard and he grinned, the mascot's nervous fidgeting getting him even harder than he would have ever thought possible.
“Lemme be straight with ya, Ono-chan,” he said, bringing one hand to wander over Ono’s chest, making him shiver. “Ya remind me of my pal who I haven’t seen for a long time. I won’t bore ya with the details, but he always really got me goin’, ‘specially when we fought.” He took Ono’s hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth to tear the white mitten off with his teeth before tossing it aside. “I think about him a lot, and seein’ ya hand those guys their asses really brought me back. All the way back.” He brought Ono’s now bare hand down between his legs, roughly pushing it against his hard cock. A shuddering sigh left him as he felt Ono’s hand reflexively curl to cup him. “Ya can see how excited ya already got me. So whaddya say, Ono-chan? Ya wanna help a guy who’s missin’ his buddy?”
“Yeah,” Ono said with a slight nod.
Majima took that as his cue, beginning to lightly grind himself against Ono’s hand, feeling it tremble as he tried to keep his grip firm. He reached down, his hand slipping over the back of Ono’s to tighten the orange’s grip on him as he rubbed against his palm. It wasn’t nearly as obvious, but Majima could see Ono beginning to harden through his pants.
“I’ll make ya feel real nice, Ono-chan. Promise,” Majima assured him. “There’s just so much I wanna do to him... I guess I’ll just have to do it all to you instead.”
“L-like what?” Ono asked.
Majima smiled deviously, his hand leaving Ono’s to wander back up his stomach, running his fingers up the front of him until they were sitting just at the base of Ono’s neck.
“So much…” Majima breathed. He straightened up and pulled his arm from the wall beside Ono’s head, both hands flying to the hem of Ono’s shirt, his fingers pushing up beneath it, his unusually bare fingertips feeling their way over the firm flesh of Ono’s abs before reaching the swell of his solid pecs. “Been wantin’ to get my hands on his fat tits,” he whispered, flicking his thumbs over Ono’s nipples. He delighted in the way the mascot shuddered beneath his touch, his chest heaving at the stimulation. “Looks like ya got real sensitive nips, huh? He always did too. Always liked me playin’ with ‘em.”
Ono let out a loud, shuddering moan as Majima released his pecs to yank his shirt up, leaning down to suck and bite at one nipple while he alternated between pinching the other and groping at Ono’s tit. Ono’s back arched into Majima to give him more access. Majima could see the hardness beneath Ono’s pants
“Ya like that? Ya want me to get a little rough with ya?” Majima asked, taking the already puffy nipple he was working on between his teeth. Ono let out a strangled whine. “So noisy, Ono-chan,” Majima commented. “Just like him. He always walked around like he was some sort of stoic badass, but get your hands on his body and ya’d have him screamin’ like a whore in no time flat.”
Majima let his hands fall to the waistband of Ono’s pants as he popped off his tit one final time, making Ono squirm. He slowly worked Ono’s pants and underwear down, watching the way his cock pushed against the fabric, straining to stand up as the garment moved over it and revealed its thick girth inch by inch.
“Been wantin’ to get his fat cock in my mouth, too,” Majima said, unable to pry his eyes from it as it finally sprung free with a modest little cry from Ono. “I always liked how heavy it was. Fit in my throat real nice, and he always leaked like a fuckin’ hose when I touched him. So sexy.”
Ono’s cock was just as thick as Majima remembered, and when he got down on his knees and took it in his hand, it had that same heaviness that he’d always loved. Precum dripped from the tip in occasional rivulets, falling to the ground between Majima’s legs. He stuck out his tongue, catching a sticky drop in his mouth before it could fall as it hung from the tip. Bringing the tip of his tongue up to the slit of Ono’s cock, he lightly flicked at it, prompting more precum to spill from him.
“You’re so wet, Ono-chan…” Majima said, briefly wrapping his lips around Ono before pulling off with just a soft suck, wrapping his hand around the base instead. “If I suck your cock, ya think ya can keep yourself from cummin’ for me?”
“Y-yes… Please, Majima-san…” Ono whimpered.
“Good,” Majima said, lapping at the tip again. “Was hopin’ ya’d say that. Just be good and let me take care of ya.”
Majima worked Ono into his mouth slowly, savoring every twitch, every involuntary thrust of his hips to get deeper into Majima’s mouth. Majima’s pace was achingly slow, and he could feel the impatient need rising in Ono, sending delightful little shivers up his own spine. Majima reached up to take Ono’s balls in his hand, massaging them gently before pulling off his cock again.
“Little slutty lettin’ a stranger suck your cock in an alley, ain’t it?” Majima asked. He lifted Ono’s cock to lick a stripe up the underside. “I like that about ya.”
Keeping Ono’s dick up, Majima dove in to suck at his balls, taking one into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue. He continued to gently stroke Ono in his hand, feeling Ono’s thighs quivering beneath him. Not wanting to linger for too long on one spot, Majima returned his mouth to Ono’s shaft after a minute of gentle tugging and sucking. Feeling both merciful and eager, Majima finally opened up his throat to take the full length of Ono’s thick cock into his mouth, burying his nose against his groin. For as long as he could, he stayed there, savoring the little whimpers that he could hear from beneath the orange head. Majima was a bit surprised to feel Ono’s fingers finding their way into his hair, resting gently atop his head.
“Nnngh, ah… Majima-san…” Ono whimpered. “That’s… Hah… It feels good…”
When he finally felt a gag on the way, Majima pulled back and worked Ono’s length in and out of his mouth in rhythm. The mascot’s grip was tightening in his hair and Majima couldn’t resist reaching down to palm himself through his pants. The ache in his own dick was starting to get to be more than he could handle, the excitement of having Ono like putty in his hands sending jolts of warm adrenaline to his groin.
When his breathing was becoming too ragged, Majima had to pull off Ono to get some air. “Really gettin’ me goin, Ono-chan,” Majima noted. “Ya taste so good and you’re so fuckin’ big…”
He couldn’t stay away, savoring the salty musk as he took Ono in his mouth again, his hand and mouth working in tandem. Ono’s twitches started small, but after a minute he was bucking uncontrollably and Majima was pushing his hip into the wall with bruising force to keep him still. Ono’s hand tightened in Majima’s hair, his other flying to Majima’s shoulder to support himself as Majima expertly worked on his cock.
“Ah, Majima-san… Majima-san, I’m close, I—nngh…” Ono whined before Majima hurriedly relinquished him from his grip.
Majima gave Ono only a moment to catch his breath before he leapt to his feet, swiftly kicking the back of Ono’s knee, harshly bringing him down to the ground, temporarily knocking the wind out of him.
“Sorry, Ono-chan, just can’t help myself,” Majima said, climbing over the startled orange to straddle his ribcage.
Ono just watched as Majima pulled his tantō from his waistband, flinching reflexively. Instead of bringing it to Ono’s throat, though, Majima brought it to the hem of Ono’s shirt and in a flash, he’d sliced it completely up the front, leaving the whole of his torso exposed.
“Majima!” Ono cried, his voice deepening into its familiarly agitated range, making Majima giggle.
He’d half expected Ono to try and throw him off, surprised when he didn’t. Majima quickly unbuckled the silly little fish bag around Ono’s torso, tossing it aside to give him full access to his chest. He started groping at Ono’s pecs again, taking Ono’s little gasping moans as a sign of forgiveness for his destroyed shirt.
“God, I just can’t stay away from your tits, Ono-chan…” Majima murmured, giving them a firm squeeze. “You’re makin’ me crazy…”
He managed to free up one hand for just long enough to unzip his pants, tugging his painfully hard cock from his pants, jerking himself a bit over Ono’s chest, letting his own precum drip onto his new friend. With his free hand, he dug in his pants for his wallet, deftly pulling out a small packet which he tore open with his teeth, squirting the slippery contents between Ono’s pecs. He quickly scooted up to slap his shaft atop the mess, giving a few preliminary ruts of his hips to spread the lube. He was starting to lose control, the excitement welling in his groin, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in consideration.
“C’mere, gimme your hands,” Majima urged.
Ono held his hands up hesitantly. Majima took them in his, placing Ono’s palms on either side of his chest, just below his armpits.
“There,” Majima said. “Now push your fuckin’ tits together, Ono-chan. Fuck, just like that…”
The tight squeeze between Ono’s pecs was impressive, the strong muscle providing plenty of friction around Majima’s cock as he began to thrust. His first few strokes were slow, but after he figured out the best angle, his pace increased to near fever pitch.
“God, your fat fuckin’ tits feel so fuckin’ good… Ah, hah, fuck… Squeezin’ me so tight…” Majima was lost in the sensation, the lube giving him just enough slick to not hurt himself while still providing enough friction to get him closer to cumming than he anticipated.
“Keep those tits together for me. Good boy…” Majima praised, letting his head fall back with a shaky exhale. “God, if he was here, I’d be fuckin his chest just like this… I’d make him open his mouth and lick the tip of my cock with every thrust and I’d—nngh—I’d fuckin’ cum in his mouth. M-maybe miss and get it all over his face... He’d always act so bashful about it, but I know he loved it when I pulled his hair and made him eat my cum… Fuckin’ filthy… Ah…”
Ono whined and squirmed underneath Majima, his hips bucking to get any contact on his cock, but Majima was so lost in Ono’s tits that he couldn’t stop to pleasure the poor mascot, riding him until he could feel the wave of ecstasy building inside him. His pace was starting to become erratic, stuttering as he felt the tightening of his balls.
“Ono-chan… Ah fuck, I’m gonna cum…” Majima whined, rutting relentlessly between Ono’s pecs as thick, white ropes of cum came surging out of him with a strained cry. “A-ah!”
Majima watched as his cum splashed everywhere, splattering across Ono’s chest and his charming hassaku face. He let himself slump forward a bit, his hands finding Ono’s shoulders to rest on, supporting himself as he panted and caught his breath.
“Whew… Sorry, I lost myself there for a second…” Majima heaved.
Ono brought his hand to his head, feeling around the orange face to find the sticky mess Majima had made there. Majima quickly swatted his hand away.
“Leave it. I like the way it looks,” he told Ono. "I like gettin' ya messy."
He crawled off of Ono’s chest. His hands flew to Ono’s pants, still around his thighs, and he was quickly tearing them down to his ankles where they caught on his cool boots, which were vital for any fisherman. Ono made a surprised noise, jumping at the action. In one swift movement, Majima had ripped Ono’s pants and boots off and tossed them aside, settling himself on his knees between Ono’s legs. He reached up to Ono’s chest, swiping up some of the lube, which was only partially sullied by his cum, with his fingertips with an apologetic look on his face.
“Sorry, I only brought one of those,” he murmured.
With his clean hand, Majima parted Ono’s thighs. The other, he brought between them, gently caressing Ono’s hole with the slippery mixture, earning him a little whine from Ono.
“My friend always liked when I stretched him out. Almost more than when I fucked him, I think,” Majima said, drawing his finger teasingly around his hole. “Ya want my fingers, Ono-chan? I promise I’m real good with ‘em.”
Ono let out a breathless noise as Majima preemptively pushed his finger against his entrance, though without enough pressure to actually penetrate him. “Yes… I want them…” he whispered.
“What’s the magic word?” Majima asked, putting a little more force behind his finger, his tease agonizing.
“Please, Majima-san… Please, please…” Ono begged. “I need them…”
“So cute, Ono-chan… Such a good boy with those nice manners,” Majima cooed as he slipped his finger beyond the rim.
Ono’s back arched and he groaned as Majima’s finger worked itself up to the knuckle, the slight curl of the digit already finding his prostate. Majima gently rubbed the spot, delighted by the way Ono thrashed and whined as he increased the pressure on it.
“Ah!” Ono cried when Majima added a second finger, both quickly returning to tease that same sweet spot.
Majima could watch Ono writhe with his fingers in his ass all night, but his own cock was starting to become interested by Ono’s needy noises again and he didn’t think he could resist its urges. He hurriedly slipped a third finger into Ono, giving him a few generous thrusts, the combination of the stretch and his ruthless massaging of his prostate making Ono cry out, precum pooling on his stomach as his neglected and aching cock bumped against his stomach. Majima dipped a finger into it and brought it to his mouth, savoring the salty bitterness.
"So good... Is all this for me? Am I makin' ya do that?" Majima asked, cleaning off the digit showily with his tongue. He let out an appreciative hum around his finger.
"Ah... yeah... It's... It feels too good..." Ono whispered with a squirm.
“He always made cute little noises like that, too,” Majima whispered, his own need becoming unbearable. “Think ya can take my cock now, big boy?”
Ono’s head nodded almost comically. “Yes, please.”
“Aw. So polite.”
As gently as he could, Majima pulled his fingers from the orange’s hole. With another scoop of lube from Ono’s chest, Majima slicked up his hardened cock. He nudged at Ono’s entrance with the tip, the way it squeezed around him already promising a tight fuck. He let out a sigh, bracing himself on his hands planted on either side of Ono’s hips.
“So tight, Ono-chan, you’re stretchin’ so good around me…” Majima said with a shudder, sliding into his new friend slowly. “You take it so good…”
It wasn’t long before Majima had pressed his hips against Ono’s ass, giving his friend a moment to get used to the size of him.
“Majima-san… Please fuck me,” Ono whined, squirming his hips against Majima’s, his hard cock leaking precum against his stomach. “I’m ready.”
“Good boy,” Majima praised, pulling out nearly to the tip before thrusting back in hard.
Ono’s hands desperately clawed at the ground seeking something to hold onto as Majima began pounding into him roughly, sweat dripping from Majima’s hairline onto Ono’s stomach as he frantically fucked him. It had been a while since Majima had fucked anyone this hard and he was already starting to feel the ache in his lower back, but he didn’t care. The way Ono squeezed him was so enchanting that he couldn’t even think of anything besides burying himself inside his ass like a madman.
Majima paused in his thrusting, moving his hands to the back of Ono’s thighs and pushing them up to his chest, the change in angle making Ono suck in air.
“Deep…” Ono gasped. “You’re so deep… Ah…”
Majima resumed his movement, pumping his cock even further into Ono’s ass than before, rubbing against that sweet spot with every movement. He couldn’t keep his hand off Ono’s dick, stroking him just as roughly as he fucked him, savoring the way Ono clenched around his cock every time he rubbed his thumb over the tip.
“Fuck, that’s it, Ono-chan…” Majima breathed, babbling through his aggressive pace. “I’ve been thinkin’ about fuckin’ him like this too. I’d always think about cummin’ deep in his guts… You take it so good, just like he did. Fuck, Ono…” Majima could feel the heat overwhelming him, hot pleasure welling up in his stomach again. “I think I’m gonna fill ya up deep, too.”
“God, yes… Majima-no-niisan, please…” Ono slipped. “I’m gonna cum, too.”
Majima managed to get out one last “Good boy, Ono-chan,” before he was blinded by pleasure again, cumming hard inside his new friend as he buried himself as deeply as he could while thrusting through it. Ono came with a strangled cry, shooting his own cum all over his chest, the weaker spurts falling over Majima’s knuckles before dripping onto his stomach.
It took a few minutes before either man had recovered himself enough to move, and when Majima finally pulled out it took every last ounce of energy he had. He sat back, thankful that he was still in his pants to protect him from the dirty ground, only feeling a bit sorry for his friend whose ass was fully exposed to the grime. He couldn’t resist one last look, reaching out to spread Ono’s cheeks, admiring the way the cum dripped out of his twitching hole. For a second, he almost thought to touch himself again, but he didn’t have the strength in his arms.
“That was fun,” Majima panted as he scooted over to the wall of the alley, leaning back against it.
When Ono finally seemed to be recovered enough to speak, he made one annoyed demand.
“Can I have my pants back, please?” he asked, holding his hand out expectantly.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Majima said, scrambling to gather the garment and get it back to his friend, who shakily dressed himself.
Majima sighed contentedly as he relaxed against the wall again, watching Ono pull on his cool boots. With a groan, Ono surveyed the mess on his chest as much as the orange head would allow.
“Was that necessary?” he asked, seeming a bit annoyed and having dropped the Ono Michio act completely.
“‘Course it was. Ya liked it, didn’t ya?”
Ono just grumbled in response, but Majima knew enough to know that it meant “yes.”
“Well, ya doin’ anythin’ tonight? We could go back to your place.” Majima suggested.
“I don’t have a place here anymore. Just happened to run into a guy I knew who needed another Ono Michio gig and was desperate for help. He asked me to come back for the day.”
“Woah, wait,” Majima said, doing his best to sound shocked. “You’re not actually an orange? You’re just some guy under there?”
Majima didn’t need to see the face beneath the hassaku orange to feel its glare.
“Heh, ok, just kiddin’, jeez. Well if you’re not doin’ anythin’, I have a shower at my place. It ain’t too far. Ya can spend the night, if ya want,” Majima said, shyly kicking at the asphalt at the suggestion as if he hadn’t just fucked Ono within an inch of his life.
“You gonna try and fight me if I do?”
“Come on, who do ya think I am?” Majima cried, crossing his arms. “Of course I am.”
Majima heard a telltale little chuckle from beneath the orange head and he could instantly picture the smirk on his friend’s face. It got his heart racing all over again.
“Alright, then.”