Author's Notes: Don’t get excited now, I’m not back. I just wrote this at home, and went to a library to post it. I figured, after I read my reviews at school, that I should let you people know that I’m still alive before you forget about me. So I wrote this awhile ago, so I don’t remember what it’s about. I’m pretty sure I read it over and edited, but you never know. Tell me what you think!

**Disclaimer**: Tekken is owned by Namco and not me. I just manipulate the characters for entertainment purposes.


Chapter 7 - My World

By Chlover

Smoke rose to the ceiling in large clouds. Any normal passer-by may have thought that something was on fire, but that was not the case. Five men sat around a table near the back of the small bar. Four of the five smoked cigars, while the fifth simply stuck to cigarettes. They looked back and forth amongst each other, making lame attempts at mind reading. Only three still held cards in their hands that they shielded from the others.

Nobody else appeared willing to fold. An Austrian man in a grey business suit tossed in a bill of yen. No words had been spoken since the cards had been dealt. Words weren’t needed. The players weren’t blind. They could see exactly how much their opponents were raising the stakes. But this foreign man was arrogant in every sense of the word. He had been even before the game had begun. If he didn’t have a good hand, he must have been certain he would win anyway, or else he was just good at bluffing.

The silver haired devil set his cigarette to rest in the glass-imitation ashtray, as he fished through his wallet for more cash so he could raise the stakes even higher. Not much yen left. He swore under his breath and tossed in the remainder of his yen, meeting the bet. He could have always gone into his American funds, but that was too big of risk for a simple poker game, and he wouldn’t even be gambling if that bastard hadn’t called him Tinkerbell.

The third man, a Japanese busboy, met the bet, and laid down his cards. A full house. Not bad. The man smirked, expecting the other two to be upset, but they weren’t. As soon as he noticed, he frowned and motioned to the waitress to refill his mug.

The Austrian laid down his cards. A royal flush. Shit.

Lee looked down at his own hand of all blue. Gambling was never his thing, unless you considered stock markets to be. He could never understand how people could get addicted to playing cards, especially if they lost more often then they won. Some people were merely idiots. There’s not much more to it then that.

He placed his cards on the table, and put the cigarette back in his mouth, rolling his eyes as the Austrian snickered and grabbed the money. How could a grown man be so utterly childish? It was a pathetic sight, but not any less amusing. Lee always enjoyed watching people insult themselves when they didn’t even know they were doing it.

“Excuse me. Mr. Chaolan,” The waitress said in Japanese, handing him a martini, “A man over there bought this for you.”

The Austrian’s lip curled in a disgusted, but smug, smirk, “So you are a fag after all, Tinker bell. Whose your friend? Peter pan? I don’t suppose he’s any better at poker then you, huh?”

Lee peered through the smoke, searching for a familiar face, completely ignoring the irritating man’s words for fear that stupidity may be contagious. No familiar faces, but there was familiar hair. Kazuya. Lee grinned and left the table, not touching the martini, nor honouring the waitress with any thanks. He approached the other table with thoughts of victory. When subtle red eyes turned to meet him, he froze mid-stride.

“Is there something the matter, Brother? You don’t look very happy to see me,” The devil smiled, “Take a seat, please. I won’t bite. I just ate.”

“What do you want?” Lee questioned as he sat down opposite the creature.

The devil studied the man in front of it, and narrowed its eyes, “You have been nothing but trouble since the day I first laid eyes on you. Of course I should be rather thankful that now my beautiful human is closer to being mine alone, but you hurt the human. Because of you, Kazuya turned on my precious mortal, and now it will be even more difficult to meet once your brother wakes up.”

“Since when is the likes of you interested in a human?” Lee laughed and put his cigarette out in another fake glass ashtray, “Do I know her? She must be a vixen in bed if she won you over.”

An accomplished smile presented itself on the devil’s face. “You may have met ‘her’ once upon a time. If you recognise the title, Hwoarang. In answer to your other question, I’ve never had better. Now,” it stood and turned toward the door, “I recommend you keep your distance from my host, or you shall live to regret your very birth. Are we clear, Chaolan?”

Love? Lust? The most dangerous four letter words there were. The word fuck never hurt anyone, but the L words have hurt many. Another four letter L word… Loss. In most ways loss has nothing to do with love or lust, but in every way it does. That has yet to make sense, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Not in this case, anyway.

Hwoarang was already down to his socks alone, as he let the last article of his companion’s clothing hit the floor. He knew he didn’t love the man, but lust was just as dangerous in his eyes, if not more. Even knowing that, he continued on, letting the thickness of his rival’s member throb in his mouth.

What was going on was difficult to put into words. Jin didn’t know what to do besides go with the flow. His rival seemed so fixed on not being alone, but he pushed people away. He was creating a world that was doomed to end on a sad note. It was only a matter of time before the chaotic world fell. Did Jin really want to fall with it? At that moment he did. He even felt like he was falling, and it felt so good.

Hwoarang kissed the inside of the Japanese thigh lightly, purposely teasing the man. Of course, it worked like a charm. Success was confirmed with the tensing of his muscles. A wet tongue crawled up his shaft slowly. Jin’s lover abdomen cramped from the pain of his libido. If only the Korean wasn’t such a tease. If only the teasing wasn’t so addictive. No. It wasn’t the teasing that was addictive, it was that Korean. That damned Korean.

And then there was nothing. Jin opened his eyes, not even knowing he had closed them in the first place, to an unpleasant surprise. There was Kazuya Mishima, positioned dangerously behind Hwoarang, holding the young man’s head as if threatening to snap it. “Father…” Jin breathed in disbelief. What was going on?

“If you move, I will not hesitate to kill him. He has caused me enough problems that it would probably do me good,” Kazuya said quietly, smirking at his former lover’s silence.

Jin didn’t move, though he was extremely uncomfortable with being exposed in front of his father, and had to fight off the urge to reach for a pillow or something else to cover himself with. He didn’t understand what was happening, so he asked, “What do you want?”

Kazuya sneered and eyed the silent redhead. “An apology would be nice.”

“Fuck you,” Hwoarang finally spoke, “I’m not afraid of your incestuous ass! Zekkai would never let you kill me, and we both know that hurting me wouldn’t do any damn good. Take your best fucking shot, baby.”

The words didn’t phase the cruel older man in the least. He smirked and unbuttoned his pants, yanking the Korean’s head back. “Is it that difficult to apologise, or do you want me to do this? I’m not so sure this new fly in your web will appreciate your stubbornness. Perhaps you should reconsider your answer.”

Jin could feel panic rising up his throat. “Hwoarang,” He pleaded.

Hwoarang sighed and licked his lips, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry you insulted yourself by fucking your brother out of jealousy. I’m sorry you screwed things up for yourself. I’m sorry Zekkai is better with your body then you are. I’m sorry, and I mean that in the most sincere way possible. Now be a fucking man and leave your son out of this.”

Silence came in reply as Kazuya let those words sink in. The nerve of that boy. If a battle was what he wanted, he wouldn’t be let down. Kazuya smiled and used his free hand to roam the side of the Korean’s body. “I don’t think your fly will ever forgive you after that one. Now you’ll do as I say, or I may be forced to set an example. Do we have an understanding?”

“Sure,” Hwoarang said, watching Jin through thoughtful eyes, “Awaiting orders, sir.”

Only Jin was able to see the gleam in his father’s eyes. Was this the fall that he had accepted to be a part of so easily? Was that the price to pay for being a part of Hwoarang’s life? It was difficult to understand Hwoarang and Kazuya’s relationship. They acted like they wanted to murder each other, yet, underneath it all, it was almost as if they worshipped each other. It was disturbing. It was many things good and bad, but not something Jin wanted to be a part of. He considered running off, but was afraid of what would happen to his rival. He didn’t think his father would kill the man, but there was always that mention of rape.

Kazuya roughly shoved Hwoarang’s face toward Jin’s arousal, “Finish what you started. We do not want to keep Kazama-san waiting, do we?”

“Zekkai…” Hwoarang cringed, “Zekkai, help…”

“SILENCE!” Kazuya raged, fighting back the insistent demon, “It is not wise to disobey me, Hwoa-kun. Don’t make me tell you again, because if it comes to that, you will not be happy with the outcome, and you know exactly what I mean by that.”

Hwoarang glared into space as he took his rival’s length into his mouth. Hostility and animosity clouded his eyes so completely that he went into a trance like state, still absently doing as he was told. He didn’t seem to notice Kazuya kneeling down behind him and kissing his neck. He was unresponsive. It was like he wasn’t there. He was in another world, yet the anger remained plastered on his features.

Jin squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the Korean like that if he couldn’t do anything about it. But what could be done? Jin hadn’t a clue what his father was capable of. It scared him that the older Mishima had been able to shut Hwoarang up so easily. What had happened between them? And who was this Zekkai Jin kept hearing about?

Suddenly Hwoarang cried out, clutching at the sheets on either side of his rival. The creases on his forehead begged for it to stop, but it didn’t seem like he minded the pain. It was the humiliation that he didn’t like. Hwoarang gasped as Kazuya began thrusting him. When he noticed Jin’s eyes were back open, he mouthed the words, ‘don’t look’. He didn’t want his rival to see him in that pathetic, vulnerable position. He turned his head slightly to direct his words at the older man, “You made your point, Mishima. I’m sorry I said those things, I’m doing what you said. I’m apologizing. Now please,” Hwoarang’s voice cracked. He paused to pull himself together, “Please go.”

Kazuya smirked and violently thrust himself in, “The things you will do for pride. We both know that this is exactly what you want. Three of your flies in one room, stuck to your web. Now how you managed to trap a devil is beyond me, but you did, and that devil’s interest in you is crippling me, So I will not go until you hate him. Until everyone sees how weak and pathetic you really are.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Hwoarang growled, panting through the pain, “That was your original request and now I’m beginning to think you’re just making excuses to stay. If all you wanted was to join in, man, I’m sure we could have compromised, but now you’ve completely killed the mood. So get the fuck out of me, and hit the road.”

“Strange words from a man struggling to keep himself from crying like an eight-year-old girl.”

Hwoarang’s lip curled in a grimace, “Oh I’m sorry. That must be very uncomfortable for you. I’ll try to act more like an eight-year-old boy.”

Jin cringed, wishing the Korean would lose the attitude for once, for his own sake. Anger would not likely help their current circumstances much. The fall wasn’t feeling so good anymore. There must have been a way to escape in one piece before Kazuya got too angry and worked up. Of course, the two young men could probably take the Mishima rather easily, but Kazuya was smarter then that. He made sure he had the power before his presence was even known. So what could be done?

The bed rocked as Kazuya assaulted the interior of his former lover. The head board banged loudly against the wall. Once again, Jin was silently ordered to look away. He obeyed for lack of any better ideas, forced to listen to his rival’s pained cries and his father’s grunts. A warm mouth closed over Jin’s manhood once again, and he looked to see that Hwoarang was doing it on his own. There must have been some reasoning behind it. As the world started spinning in bright colours, the young Japanese man soon realized his rival’s intent. The intense pleasure blocked everything else out.

The older man laughed as the Korean’s fist began dripping blood. Hwoarang was digging his nails into his palms, and staining the white cotton sheets, but from the determined look on his face, the self inflicted injury was more of a strategic move then anything else. It was nice to know that Hwoarang could still think straight, because Jin couldn’t. Did the redhead have a plan? More importantly: Would it work?

The thrusting stopped suddenly, and Kazuya’s eyes closed right. When they opened again, they glowed red. Devil was back. The demon gently took one of the Korean’s hands and licked the blood. What scared Jin the most was the smile his rival donned. Why would Hwoarang be so relieved at the creatures presence when it could do far more damage then its host? But the look in the Korean’s eyes were answer enough. That look was one of love, or something close to it.

“Zekkai,” Hwoarang sighed, answering Jin’s unspoken question.

Devil pulled itself out of its young lover, and readjusted its pants. Jin watched in amazement as the creature ran a gently hand through Hwoarang’s crimson mane. So this was the Korean’s beloved Zekkai? That was an even stranger relationship. It wasn’t right. It was a devil. How could the redhead trust that thing? How could someone trust something that was evil by nature? Jin couldn’t believe he was witnessing the naïve display. He had to get out of there before Devil decided to take back its other half.

It grabbed pants off the floor and tossed them at Jin. “Get dressed, boy. I’m taking a day off trying to kill you so relax a little.”

“What does Hwoarang have that you’re after? How long do you intend to keep him on your hook?” Jin asked, slipping on his pants, “If your after this thing inside me, take it. Just leave him alone.”

Devil laughed, “How noble, but I hate to break it to you, not everything is about you. What I want is exactly what you want. I want him. It’s as simple as that. There is no need to worry, for I have no intention of harming my beautiful human. I have no reason. If it was you I wanted, I had the perfect chance not a minute ago. In fact, the only reason I didn’t take it was out of respect for him. You should be thankful for our relationship, not trying to ruin it.”

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