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[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

// mafioso

TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION

XIMILIA

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[hikae]

[ Yes. Yesyesyes. Like a knot has been unwound— It's been a month, and slowly he got again accustomed to touch at this station (one that intention wasn't carrying on pain), at this misfit team. Friendly pats, shaking hands, holding a teammate, or even holding hands due to some shenanigans. It was like getting out of the shell. Useless, at first he thought. And then the craving for more started.

And now all that starvation, Zhao generously indulged. He pressed into the hand on his hip, going into the kiss with almost forgotten ferocity. At least as long as it lasted. The bite stealing a satisfying sound out of his throat ]

—mmm, I think I got hearin' problems, ya might wanna repeat that again— [ Playful and cheeky was the reply that Zhao got. A smile that did reach Majima's eye, the disbelief slowly fading. Zhao was such a natural in this dance, and he could make it endearing and alluring, both. ] Or ya know, maybe I'm just greedy. Now that I got yer pretty eyes only on me for this moment

[ Letting go of the restraints was one thing, allowing himself to want something— anything. Anyone — was another. But he got enough close brushes with death to have a revelation. One step forward, one step forward, and then it turns out it was dance all the time, and his hand was held.

Sentimental? Kinda. ]

Speakin' of which—

[ Fingertips danced on the outline of Zhao's handsome face until he grasped at the shades playfully and tugged them down. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[Playful and cheeky... that was all Zhao loved in this moment with Majima. The purposeful response was perfect as far as he was concerned. It produced a small chuckle from the Chinese man as he smirked back at the one-eyed man.

His eyes followed Majima's hand as it reached up towards his face and Zhao was perfectly still as the shades left his face. They were like an armor to him and removing them was a big deal. In this moment, however, he let it go. Of all the people that could get away with that action...Majima was one of only a bare few.

Zhao blinked eyes that were fully exposed, the softness around his gaze easy to spot without the sunglasses to hide behind. He gazed into Majima's eyes in anticipation, leaving words behind. Would he let the other take the reigns for the moment? Or should he resume? Majima had asked for more.

A moment stretched on for a lengthy time... then Zhao moved forward. He locked lips with Majima for the second time this evening and this time things were taken slowly. Every move deliberate and calculated, slow and sensual, tasting Majima for every inch's worth. His hand gripped tighter around Majima's hip as he pressed into the other man. They could take this further... could explore more... or they could take it slowly, carefully, and make this last.

Honestly, Zhao didn't care which path they took from here.]

[hikae]

[ When the glasses were off, when the full scope of realization has hit him, Majima realized— he made a mistake. The glasses were an armor, a mask as many of those he was familiar with, damn protective gear, and here he was taking them off. Insensitive asshole. But it was too late now, and Zhao had let him, so instead of letting the guilt choke him, he let the gratitude flood the craters in his heart.

Yes, the sight was different, almost scaringly so, just how well the glasses hid how soft Zhao's eyes were. Soft, pretty, and far sadder than the always joking attitude could tell.

Then the whirlwind of thoughts was halted with just a simple kiss, quiet one, like a whisper. A whisper telling him to part his lips at the tease, to playfully nip, to— It's been a long time since he allowed anyone this close. Willingly. All that's good in life, the true human connection, has left his life on the day Saejima shot eighteen yakuza dead. But everything was different here, everything was going to be different. It's a new beginning, and Zhao was kissing him as if Majima wasn't made out of nightmares. ]

Yer good, gigolo— [ He heard himself whisper in an oddly sultry voice, one step closer, hip pressing against hip. Then he realized he still had the shaded glasses in his hand ] Ah—

[ The brief awkward stumble and... ]

Thank you, for lettin' me see— [ A tilt of a head that felt so natural, yet still making him wonder who was at the steer of Goro Majima right now. ] Gonna say it's yer turn if ya want me to cast somethin' off

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[Zhao chuckled softly in response. There was no depreciation within the tone that came directly from the Chinese man's throat. Rather, it was a light-hearted amusement, appreciation for the one-eyed man in front of him. The shyness was always cute when Majima displayed it. The hesitance, the awkward stumble... Zhao found it endearing.

It was not something he expected from the other. It ran discordant to the image he had of the Mad Dog of Shimano. Reconciling the two together was sometimes, often times, hard to do.

He liked this young pup. He couldn't put his finger on one aspect and say why but he knew what he felt was genuine and appreciative. It was nice to see this person, to meet a man in his prime and see the insecurities and the strength both. Not one covering the other or diminishing the other. Simply coexisting. One person, genuine and real.

Zhao took a deep breath and let it out slow as his eyes roamed over Majima's full form. His hand moved on instinct before he had thought things throw, a undeniable draw to the thing which he made a move. And yet at the last minute he caught himself, his hand strayed to another path. His fingertips grazed softly over Majima's face and glided past his chin, down his throat, and slid partially down his chest. He flicked off one of the buttons of Majima's shirt.

Said no words, only stared at Majima with a faint smile tugging at his lips.]