FEEDBACK: Constructive criticism is welcome!

DISCLAIMER: All Tekken characters are property of Namco and not the authors.

"We should go inside or something."

At the suggestion, Hwoarang touched Jin's forehead with another brush of alcohol laced lips. Breaking free of the reluctance that wrapped their bodies together, the Korean recovered his smirk, nodded to his gajin Harley, and told Jin to follow in his car. The challenge of keeping up with the redhead proved easy enough, no thanks to the handicap that restrained Hwoarang to a less risky speed. The renju dwelling that spelled their arrival figured as no more than an abandoned industrial warehouse, spotted with the crumbling attributes of dilapidation. Hwoarang slung his motorcycle to a dusty stop before a garage door, slinging one leg over the vehicle and waiting for Jin.

The Japanese pressed down on the gas after that last turnoff; his atonement for the cockiness was a renewed ache in his wrist. Jin was almost a block behind Hwoarang as they reached their destination, finally pulling to a stop where the rough road pooled by the building. It was no fault of Hwoarang's; Jin's etiquette had dictated that he let this car merge into their lane and that one turn in ahead of him, even though Jin had been trying to follow someone. Jin nudged the door shut with his foot as he pocketed the keys, and gravitated to the Korean because they had already been apart for far too long. His eyes, however, wandered over everything but.

"Is this where you live?"It was hard to place the tone, because Jin hadn't yet decided on one. Right now, wonder just barely dominated his expression. Jin had, not surprisingly, never known someone who lived in a place like this.

"Yeah .. this is th' bachelor pad."Shifting his weight from one heel to the other, Hwoarang stood there regarding Jin regarding his place, bending a raised elbow to scratch at the nape of his neck with his right hand. The smirk became a facetious grin.

"A great find like this is rare. You don't know how many realtors were knocking my door down."And in response, a tile of rusted metal fell from an area of the facade, drawing Hwoarang's attention. In any other scenario, he would have suspected Taisho or Kim were crashing at the spot tonight - but Taisho wouldn't set foot in this place unless he absolutely had to [i.e. Hwoa-kun demanded], and Kim was dead.

"Don't worry, it's not condemned."Like he would know. Hwoa- kun, the Architect. The Korean was already on his heel, moving to the door.

Jin made a halfhearted attempt to nab that falling tile but it missed his grasp. He probably would have taken it home with him. The rust color was awfully familiar. Empty-handed, the Japanese was happy to follow the master of the house inside; as he did so he gave Hwoarang a two-second shoulder rub with both of hands since, after all, he could still use them both.

"I trust you. I think it's cool,"he said genuinely. "Not to mention spacious."Jin hoped there would be a tour but didn't think to ask.

There was no need. Hwoarang clasped Jin's hand in his right and guided him through the indigo dark, leaving the Japanese to stand alone when he raised a lever on a wall. "Just a sec."

A sudden boom lit the capacious building, followed by the grating hum of a generator. Yard upon yard of the area was unidentifiable structures covered in dust-covered sheets. The main floor was divided with a mezzanine level, accessible by cage elevator, which seemed a domesticated contrast to the remainder of the factory.

".. they used to make car parts here, or something. Went belly up."Hwoarang had returned to Jin's fore, mimicking the slitting of his throat with his good index.

It was that flash of sound that sent Jin careening back to a night months ago, to another warehouse that he'd stumbled into agonized and bleeding and thinking he was safe until the lights had gone on with an echoing boom--

Jin crossed his arms briefly to mask his quick but chilling shudder, his warm expression momentarily distracted but still genuine. Always genuine, for the Mishima offspring had never learned how to conceal his heartfelt reactions. And they were all heartfelt.

"Good thing they didn't tear it down."Jin was closing the remaining distance between them because Hwoarang was a comfort. "..Thanks for showing it to me, Joon-kun. You've shown me all these places but I haven't taken you anywhere yet."Jin savored the feeling of his arms brushing Hwoarang's waist as they snaked gently around it.

Hwoarang had been shrugging off his jacket -- a black sleevelessness tucked into black chaps-covered grey jeans - the tossed garment landing with a powdery cloud on one of the structures, and subsequently, he'd missed Jin's initial reaction. Yet the strain of distraction draining from the Japanese's eyes gave the Korean cause to raise a brow, and Hwoarang's arms flexed leanly with muscle as they spirited about Jin's broader shoulders, grasping with possession.

"You're always taking me places," he whispered, wondering at Jin's gaze.

"You've shown me so much of your life, I mean,"Jin rephrased, the last traces of unease leaving his muscles once he pulled Hwoarang to his chest; melting like snow under the Korean's warmth. His fingers threaded together at the small of the leaner man's back and contented themselves there.

"But I'm going to show you some of mine."Jin was already eager for and pondering over the dinner-date he had suggested. He'd make sure it was perfect. Anyone want to time how long Jin's hands stay out of Hwoarang's hair?

About as long as it took the unfractured fingers at the bulk of Jin's shoulders to weave over the nape of his neck, flighty over his stringent coiffure. A gibing grin replaced the sultry line on the Korean's lips.

"Let's see .. prep school, baby-sitters, limos .. gardening .. "As he distributed more of his weight into the lean that ironed their bodies together, Hwoarang let his forehead rest against Jin's. ".. what I miss .. ?"/ How amazing you are, Jin- koi. Preternatural perfection. /

Mirth warmed Jin's face even further at the description, if such was possible, especially at the 'babysitters'; he'd never thought to use that word for the hired protection acting on the wishes of a dead man to seal Jin inside the Mishima universe into which he'd stumbled, but that's what they were. Maybe Jin would get angry about it later, but here and now it was funny since his Joon- kun had said it.

"You forgot the part about his hoodlum biker pal,"he said a touch dryly in the words of one of Hayase's men. Jin's soft mouth feathered a touch at the corner of the redhead's smirk and lingered there. "...And that's the best part,"he murmured.

Hwoarang's hand about his nape drew the Japanese's mouth closer, against his whisper. ".. the happiest part."

Lovey-dovey. It's the way Jin made him feel, when he wasn't thinking about the large purple bird. Flighty. Full. Wanted. The Korean's tongue flitted over Jin's lips, sampling and teasing, and his hands plunged in lazy caresses over the slightly broader back, coming forward a moment to ease inside his coat and spread over warmer, shirt-covered skin.

And the Japanese was very, very far gone, worrying about the danger of Hwoarang's closeness to his chest since he expected his own swollen heart to leap without warning from its imprisonment there at any moment. Hwoarang's hands were the bane of Jin's invincibility, thawing any of the muscles that they grazed and making his legs unsteady and swirling about in his mind like a dreamy fuzziness. The orbit of Jin's fingers had capitulated to the pull of Hwoarang's head, the blazing sun that it was; they sank against his back and floated up its contours until his rough fingertips could mingle with the last inches of the beckoning mane. It seemed obvious that Jin's mouth was going to kiss, and it even began to, but soon widened into a-- grin.

And then Jin's hands spread over the leathery backs of Hwoarang's thighs and with a clipped grunt the Mishima had hoisted his fair prize into the air, easing its long legs about his own waist with a proud little smile. Now, at last, did he give Hwoarang a brief kiss.

"I'm tired of standing."

Robbed of footing, Hwoarang tensed up, surprised as he surrendered balance. Wow, Jin was strong! Not that the Korean was particularly heavy to begin with; for a distinguished martial artist and practitioner of tae kwan do, Hwoarang was a little too light and over the average height.

But his startled reaction soon disintegrated in the reality of their positioning, and his thighs went tight and firm around the Japanese's waist, his arms returning to Jin's neck with the purpose of maintaining equilibrium. Hwoarang had to keep joking, casting the illusion of control in this physically vulnerable situation.

"And how's holdin' me going to help .. ?"he whispered

"Mmm."Jin was liking this situation. "The sooner I did it the sooner I could put you down again. But that prospect's looking grim." Jin nuzzled the graceful curve of Hwoarang's jaw with his nose, seeking admittance to the flesh beneath it, and as soon as it was available it was met with a hot, eager to taste mouth. Still holding the undersides of taut legs Jin was moving towards the elevator. He'd looked at a table, but it didn't deserve Hwoarang. Not to mention that it would probably break if they got a little too energetic.

"Hn .. you're so forward, Jin-kun."The quip came feebly over Hwoarang's broken gasp. Jin's mobility increased the shifting of the Korean's body, grinding torso on torso, and each movement threatened his joking image with lust. Hwoarang still commanded enough wherewithal to realize the Japanese's intent, and he facilitated their migration with murmured instruction, and with occasional placements of his lips over Jin's face.

"You have to bang it, the wiring's rusted."And after the 'banging', and the stepping into the cage which made a cacophonous fuss of closing and an ancient slowness of ascending, the Korean began cleaning out Jin's mouth with a renewed fervor, his tongue probing deep. Jin Kazama has Hwoarang.

A mild haze of confidence imbued the Japanese's manner due to the success of this little venture. They both knew that Jin was not normally so direct nor very controlling, but Jin had felt the urge to prove that it was possible. It was the fault of a tiny anxiety that had steadily grown more insistent -- telling Jin that he wasn't manly enough. But now, now that Jin was carrying his Joon-kun and slamming his fist into the elevator control almost to the point of damaging it further and riding it skyward with the intention of making love to his treasure, well.

Jin was a little proud of himself. Surely one could understand. It frustrated Jin that he had to keep his eyes open to see where he was going but he somehow managed to do so, even as he twined the slick, hot muscle of his tongue about Hwoarang's with a bit less clumsiness and a bit more sureness than he usually did. He got off of the elevator quickly once they had ascended the miles and miles separating the second floor from the first, and he had yet to lose his balance.

Hwoarang had meant to give a tour of 'his' place, but he hadn't seen Jin in two entire weeks! And after that night they shared on the coast, abstinence from the Japanese's presence was the fifth circle of Hell; like the first taste of a cigarette that strung you out as if you'd been smoking for twenty years; like going without water for a month. The Japanese's mouth was an oasis that Hwoarang drank from eagerly, licking up droplets of Jin's distinct taste with each erotic swirl of his tongue. He was oblivious to pointing out the niceties of the loft -- no more than an unpartitioned, studio-sized floor featuring dust-choked wall-size window panes, hardwood floors, and compartmentalized sections ringing a large, rectangular central space meant for practicing, perhaps. One corner held a full-length mirror upon which white gi and a black wife-beater dangled, another some dwarf replication of a refrigerator, and the farthest a king- sized mattress lacking the springboard. Countless other curiosa speckled the layout -- imported Hendrix and STP posters, Korean statuettes, a TV -- negligible additions to a bachelor's dwelling.

On his second step onto the floor Jin oscillated, his superhuman veneer threatening to buckle; either that or his knees, he couldn't tell for certain. Jin's lazily drifting eyes regained their attentiveness, both to tell Jin in which direction to move and also easing his curiosity about the appearance of the room his Joon-kun lived in. They were not, however, granted enough attention for the Japanese to form an opinion, because Hwoarang himself was still far more important. As Jin slowly but steadily closed the distance between them and the bed, the fount of his mouth eventually ebbed so that it could run back across Hwoarang's jaw and splash against the velvety shell of his ear, first lapping at his earlobe and then even nibbling once or twice. The cant of his head was also an improved viewpoint. And eons after their arrival Jin was pivoting and lowering until he met the mattress. He spread his knees as he sank back against the haven of the mattress.

And in sheer mockery of all the care taken in bringing them to this horizontal plane of anticipation, and hopefully, fulfillment, the mattress seemed to fall out from beneath Jin's weight -- but didn't -- and Hwoarang seemed to slip from his passionate grasp -- but didn't.

It was a waterbed, and the Korean was tumbling atop Jin, smirking that 'I knew it all along smirk' down on his lover's face, one arm on either side of the Japanese's broad shoulders. They were both rocking, undulated up and down on the agitated surface.

"You don't get sea sick, do you?"

Jin gave a short and surprised laugh, something he had not expected himself to be doing much of once they reached the bed. And Hwoarang knew it all along, of course.

"I'm not used to these. You have to stay close so I don't drown."Just in case the Korean had /any/ last traces of doubt that they were going to be entwined like this for a while. Jin tried to shift his weight further towards the head of the bed but didn't really go anywhere; he met mild success, though, when he pushed his feet against the floor, but that could only take them so far. He have a chagrined smile. He was still in control of the world! No, really! He /was/!

"I want you to drown."The unemotive words -- paired with a feral glimmer in Hwoarang's downcast gaze -- dispelled that lightheartedness in their prior exchange. It recalled the sultry events that led them to this point; that compelled Hwoarang to his straddling position; that had him looming astride Jin, rising and falling like a buoy on the gelatinous bed. The Japanese's face was a magnetic scape Hwoarang's puzzling eyes lingered over, silent with the weight of his intent. He moved his hands to his own waist, tugging the wife-beater from his chapped jeans, up over his chest and shoulders, and casting it away in a fisted ball. Unruled feathers of orange dangled, camouflaging the look that reassessed the man beneath him.

Return to Archive | next | previous