Chapter 9

By The Lizard

Before long, Jin and Hwoarang had reached a point where simple kissing and fumbling would no longer suffice, the heat between their bodies almost intolerable, their breath ragged. Jin however, knew it could go no further, not while the Korean was still partially inebriated, and in no fit state for the kind of exertion things were leading to. He felt slim hips nudge suggestively against his own, provoking a unified moan from both, and finally decided to bring things to a halt. Tearing his lips away from the damp, bruised ones beneath him, he shifted sideways, disentangling himself from Hwoarang, and sitting beside him instead, cheeks flushed with colour.

For a moment the Korean said nothing, lying there sprawled as Jin had left him, and already feeling the loss of contact too keenly. Slowly he ran the tip of his tongue across his lips, gathering up whatever taste of the other boy's mouth that he could, and then turning hiss head to glance sideways at him, narrow, sienna eyes glazed as they peered from beneath feathery lashes.

"We're not finished." He murmured, palms flat on the floor on either side of him as he tried to sit up. A firm hand kept him pinned there.

"We are for now." Jin replied calmly, but even this slight contact was threatening to break his resolve and lure him back down to the lean, long legged form of the redhead.

As if realising this, Hwoarang pried the fingers from his chest and brought them to his lips, kissing the tip of each in turn, and then capturing two with his mouth, drawing them inside and letting his tongue glide gently across their undersides. Not once did he break eye contact with Jin, whose breathing had escalated again. The combination of those "come to bed" eyes and the gentle suction on his fingers was enough to weaken his defences, Hwoarang was irresistible. He felt himself harden again, his length pressing uncomfortably against his zipper.

Moments later, Hwoarang smiled as Jin grabbed him by the shoulders, looking almost ravenous, muscles working along his jaw. It seemed he hadn't lost his touch. Roughly he was pulled up off the mattress and onto the Japanese teenager's lap, and at that point his smile dissolved into a grimace. The pain in his head seemed to multiply without end, until he couldn't help but hiss between his teeth, eyes clenched tightly, and his upper body slumping against the rather startled Jin. It seemed his hangover was getting increasingly worse.

Comfortingly, muscular arms wound around him, one at his waist, the other supporting his shoulders. This wasn't how he'd expected his first night alone with Jin Kazama to end up. Gritting his teeth to keep the pain at bay a little, he let his brow fall against Jin's broad shoulder, torso resting limply against him.

"You're a mess." The words were whispered against the side of his neck, more heat, more arousal. It was exasperating feeling so turned on when he couldn't do anything to remedy it.

"Promise me we'll start where we left off next time, Jin." He whispered back, voice breathy, adding a quick nip to the sensitive flesh of his throat. He was starting to fear that Jin might try and deny what had happened between them after they parted ways, insecurity plaguing him.

Kazama had no intention of avoiding Hwoarang whatsoever, not even if his Minders protested about him associating with a street thug. For once he'd demand that they keep out of his business.

"I promise." He murmured, arching his neck slightly when he felt those teeth pinching his skin. He leaned back very a little, letting his back rest against the wall, and Hwoarang shifted so that he was straddling his hips, rather than perched across his thighs. It probably wasn't the wisest idea, because it meant they ended up with unwanted friction between areas they had been trying to forget about.

Involuntarily, Jin's hips lurched in response, his arms tightening around the lean, sleekly muscled body on top of him. With a soft grunt, he tried to restrain any further movement, but by this point Hwoarang had already pressed firmly against him, and neither had enough will power to draw things to a close. Hips grinding against each other through the fabric of their clothes, but sharp movements kept to a minimum that was almost painfully frustrating for both, but necessary for Hwoarang, their lips met again. They didn't part until both men finally found release, spilling themselves in the tight confines of their pants and moaning into each other's mouths. It had been a far from perfect moment, but enough to leave them sated for a while, and pleasantly drowsy.

Morning came without stirring either man, the rain having ceased entirely, and the sun so uncomfortably strong that already the puddles were evaporating in lazily rising columns of steam. Hwoarang was still comfortably slumped on top of Jin, looking sublimely peaceful for the first time in several weeks, and the Japanese youth's hands had dropped from their place on the Korean's beautifully muscled back to rest against his thighs. It made a perfect picture. At least it did to some.

Not to Brian Fury, who stalked into the old warehouse as he did every morning, stripped to the waist and with a half-empty duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He took one look at them and flew into a rage. No one invaded his territory, and these boys would pay.

Hwoarang was rudely awoken as leather-glove clad fingers snatched up a handful of his hair and jerked him to his feet. For a moment he expected to feel a wave of nausea or dizziness, a stinging in his head like there had been the previous night. It seemed he'd gotten over the worst of it now.

"What the hell?" He snarled, trying to twist around to see who was attacking him, only to have a thick, unnaturally cold arm clamp beneath his chin and around his neck in a firm headlock. Jin awoke a moment later, blinking drowsily until he noticed the struggling forms in front of him, though it was Hwoarang who was doing most of the struggling, his tormentor seemed barely to acknowledge his squirming. As if to further prove himself more powerful, the tall, scarred and grey haired monster lodged a foot against Jin's throat, pressing him down until it prevented him from breathing.

"Well what have we here? A couple of pretty boys all settled and comfy in my warehouse. Who'd have thought anyone would be fool enough to invade my turf?" Brian tightened his choke-hold on Hwoarang until the Korean's eyes began to water.

"Let go shit head!" Hwoarang's fiery temper did its usual job of landing him in more trouble. Brian grabbed his damaged arm, and began to twist mercilessly. Just as the Korean thought he was about to pass out from the pain, a shot rang out, and Brian went staggering sideways, blood spattering from hole in the side of his throat. It seemed he'd been caught by surprise, and Hwoarang finally managed to squirm free at the same time as Jin got to his feet.

Another shot was fired, and another, one hitting Fury in the shoulder, the other in his chest, but these he was ready for, and he remained standing, barely flinching, scowling at the figure in the doorway who held a gun pointed at his head.

For once Hwoarang was actually pleased to see Lei Wulong.

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