Archives: Sure, but please ask first! ^_^

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

Notes: Constructive criticism is welcomed!

Warnings: Eventual lemon parts, language & violence.

Impending Fury

Chapter Twelve - Sex

By Aaronica and Orfik

At the estate Jin had told the driver that he wanted to go to the library, for with so many other ears listening, it was the easiest way to get out of the house. On the road, however, he put down the window between the driver and the back of the car, and actually climbed through it. The poor man almost ran off the road in his shock, and before he could raise the question, Jin had already answered it.

"I don't want to go to the library. I need to visit someone." The man was trying to drum up the politest protest he could, but when he caught sight of the urgency in Jin's eyes, it became a much harder task. "Please," Jin pleaded quietly. After a long moment he was reassured by a slow nod, albiet it reluctantly, and began to give new directions.

And that was how Jin arrived at Hwoarang's, telling the driver not to wait for him. If he couldn't get a ride from Hwoarang, then he would simply have to walk home, or sleep outside. Jin looked up at the massive building, rubbing his elbow as his blood already began to chill from memory. He approached the door slowly, and he knocked on it.

The knock's echo could be heard beyond the door, resounding over the machinery that lay dormant beyond it. Where the Korean teen sat in the mezzanine drumming chords on his guitar he heard it, and he raised a thoughtful face to it. Taisho and Ryo hated this place.

He layed his guitar on the bed and rose, reaching for a faded blue t-shirt and pulling it over his head, and he walked barefoot to the industrial elevator that lowered to the main work floor. It was cold, but he strode flat-foot to the double-sided entrance and pulled open the left side, peering out. His rustbrown eyes met Jin, and seemed to refuse emotion in that same moment.

As was normally the case, this most important of moments was also that in which Jin forgot all of the rhetoric he had spent hours planning and replanning and tossing out to start again. With his arms slack at his eyes, he took a breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled.


"Hey." Pushing the door open so the full profile of his body was visible, Hwoarang placed his hand on the frame of the door and studied Jin with a narrow look of appraisal.

Jin had to do something, so he rubbed his elbow again. "I thought.. maybe we could talk."

Hwoarang pursed his lips, as if considering a difficult question. Finding the answer took a number of seconds, all of which passed with his eyes steady on the Japanese's face; but once it was found he drew back, making a slow sweep of his healed hand. " .. come in." He stood there as Jin passed to close the door behind him.

"Thanks..." The silent malice of the warehouse itself, coupled with Hwoarang's distance, was a particularly vicious combination. Feeling very tiny Jin swept his eyes slowly over the building and then turned back to Hwoarang, crossing his arms loosely simply to get them out of his way.

Although Hwoarang's concentrated gaze spoke to the heart of the matter between them, his mouth spoke evasive words.

" .. are you hungry?" he asked when he wanted to know how Jin was. " .. I have some fish upstairs," he explained, nodding towards the elevator as he started to it, when he really wanted to walk to Jin. When the Korean reached the console he pulled back the gate and stepped inside, turning to wait for the Japanese.

Jin followed him, and it was difficult to avoid feeling that his own presence was an oppressive burden on the other man.

"Sure.. Thanks. That'd be great." Smiling weakly, his eyes lingered out the gate of the moving elevator until at the end of the journey, they returned to Hwoarang. "Um. I wanted to talk about what happened, because.. you're upset, and I don't want you to be."

Silence prevailed on the short ride up a floor. Hwoarang's hands were tucked into the pockets of jeans, the thumbs sticking out, and he leaned against the metal wall of the cubicle. He stared at that webbing of door that light would soon flood through, and hoped that with it would come the answers he needed so much, but was too full of pride to ask. The elevator stopped, the gate opened, and nothing came, and so Hwoarang straightened and walked into the living space he'd carved out of this part of the warehouse, and stopped once he reached the water mattress he slept on. Plopping down on it and grabbing his guitar, he held the instrument against his chest as a barrier between himself and Jin, and watched him.

" .. so what happened?"

Jin wasn't sure if he was allowed to sit, and so remained standing near the bed. He would tell Hwoarang everything; the stuff he'd left out before, the things he'd already said. All of it.

"I ran into him last Thursday... Literally. He was chasing some thieves and they went past me. But we recognized each other and he stopped so that we could talk. But since he was on duty, I asked if maybe he wanted to have lunch on the weekend because I hadn't seen him since the tournement."

Jin hesitated, his eyes roaming the floor. "I thought.. maybe we could be friends, since I don't really know anyone else very well besides you. That's all I was thinking; just that I might be able to be friends with him. And we were going to meet that afternoon that you saw us, except that I saw him in there and went in. I don't know why he put his arm around me; I didn't want him to. When we were outside I moved away so he'd remove it, and he did. He drove me to the restaurant and then we had lunch. That's all that happened."

Hwoarang lowered his eyes to the electric guitar in his arms, tracing the flame designs on the solid, lacquered wooden base with a set of fingers. The curtain of hair hanging in his face blocked a clear view of any expression he might have had, and his voice was low and weightless.

" .. do you know what I thought when I saw you with that cop, Jin .. ?" In the pause he strummed the taut strings lightly, without enough pressure to produce sound. "That he was using you to get to me. But then I thought 'how could he possibly know about us? And so I thought he was after you because of who your family was. But when you say those kind of things," Hwoarang explained slowly, raising spheres of reddish rust to Jin, " .. I think like I used to. Like someone's selling me out. And I'm scared at myself for thinking like that, because I know you'd never do anything like that."

As the dew of confusion collected on his lashes, the Korean's lips whispered out with a stutter. "I should be sorry. I'm sorry."

Jin walked to the bed until there was no longer a distance between them and sat next to Hwoarang. Putting his arms gently around the top of Hwoarang's chest, guitar be damned, he rested his forehead against the Korean's closest shoulder.

"It's okay," he replied calmly, but he had to whisper because he wasn't sure how much control he would have over his voice. "I love you, and I'm happy it's alright, because... I was scared."

Hwoarang put the guitar down and reached for Jin's chin with his hand, lifting his face. He tilted his head to kiss the teenager's mouth, closing his lips over Jin's and sucking, drinking.

Muscle by muscle, the tension seemed to seep out of Jin's body. He squeezed Hwoarang's shoulders gratefully with his fingers, closing his eyes readily. It had almost seemed that he would never get to feel this-- Hwoarang's body, his kiss-- again. Jin hadn't felt that terrified in a long time.

Hwoarang's arms clamped over this oasis, holding it secure against the heart whose beat it sustained as a mouth continued to drink from it. It seemed always that when they were separated the Korean starved and thirsted, and when reunited fed with ravenous, physical abandon. He could kiss Jin for hours, until his lips bled.

Who said they couldn't try it? Jin shifted his weight forward so that they could lie on the bed, his grip as tight as ever. Maybe he wouldn't even /want/ a ride home tonight.

Hwoarang manipulated his way to the top, pumping the same amount of passionate care into their kiss, and straddled Jin between his thighs. Possessive eyes studied the face he planted his hands beside, his profile painted in shadow. Lined in warm breath, his words fell onto Jin.

"I love you too."

Jin's hands smoothed over Hwoarang's back in idle caresses. He spoke softly, gazing into the face above his own. "Whatever might happen, I want to be with you forever." He pushed a saffron lock behind Hwoarang's ear, his fingertip tracing over the soft line of his cheek. "I promise."

" .. shhh," Hwoarang admonished, the warm, faintly salty pad of his thumb roving over each sincere lip. With legs bent on either side of Jin, he sat just above that nexus of heat, and the kiss he lowered to the Japanese's hirsute brow pressured it with his own. " .. you're never going to lose me. Never."

He contented himself on the simple ecstasy of gazing into Jin's eyes. " .. so you better think about how to tell your grandfather about us." A thin grin threaded Hwoarang's roseate mouth.

"So quietly that he doesn't hear?" Jin suggested half-jocosely, his hands gravitating to Hwoarang's hips, under which he shifted his own. He was lost for a long time while looking upon Hwoarang's face. "Can I make love to you?" he murmured.

"Hard .. ?" he whispered, returning the examination. The distinct and regal scroll of Jin's countenance was one his eyes never tired of scrutinizing, and when he licked -- rather than kissed -- the Japanese's lips, the hint of moisture there was like an intoxicating ink, dark enough to dye his entire soul.

"However you want it," Jin breathed against Hwoarang's mouth before lifting his head gently to claim it himself. It was his turn to ease himself inside the other's lips for another dose of its unique, magnificent taste.

The growl Hwoarang voiced was a chord low and rough enough to vibrate against flesh. Along with the firm thrust of his pelvis against the thickness beneath him, it composed his answer. The Korean tore his mouth away to sit up and cross his arms over his chest, lifting the worn t-shirt over his head and throwing it away, and to quickly go to work freeing Jin of his own clothes.

Jin's gaze was glazed in amazement while his body gathered its heat at his center, in one squirming, tangible sign. Jin dutifully arched forward and aided in the removal of his soft navy sweater. When it was off, he clutched at Hwoarang's bare shoulders and pulled him close to roll to the side, settling his heavy, eager weight atop him. He claimed another kiss.

"I hate your clothes," Hwoarang's breath steamed into the mouth eating at his, his words broken by each eager, adolescent suckle. " .. you shouldn't wear any." His hands, which perched on the curve between shoulderblade and spine before, now followed a grasping, rubbing path down to the upward curve of Jin's rear, pushing below the waistband of slacks to strain at his nude flesh.

"I never seem to when we're together." Jin began to laugh quietly, but it was both consumed by Hwoarang's mouth and also transformed into a moan as he pushed the girth of his hips and the firmness of his lust into the Korean's body, iron muscle shivering their pleasure under those familiar fingers. Wedging a hand between them, his fingers picked at the other's troublesome fly.

"Mmn," Hwoarang moaned in answer, the arch of his pelvis against Jin's downward force creating an interstice filled with heat and electricity. He twisted his hips, stoking the fire while aiding the slide of those frayed jeans from his long, muscular legs, the evidence of his vanity springing to full, immediate attention against Jin's belly.

"If I made the rules, we'd never leave the bed," he grunted, tasting a spanse of the Japanese's neck.

"You can make them for now," Jin answered, his voice thick and faraway as he feasted on the crook of Hwoarang's shoulder. His hands delved below Hwoarang to grip each hemisphere of his rear, squeezing them possessively and proudly. It made the fire in his body burn even more brightly than before, however that was possible. The initial squeezes turned into a deep, muscle-penetrating massage.

Each prod, push and clutch coaxed their own uniquely pitched moan from Hwoarang's mouth, his parted lips rising above his nose as he tilted his head backward, his chin angled toward the ceiling. And now Jin could see each distinct chord his attentions struck in that stretched, long neck, accented by the faint swell of the Korean's voice box. As if compelled by the palms, Hwoarang softly thrust his hips upward in dry, rough thrusts against the Japanese's muscled abdomen.

"Jesus .. I love you so much, Jin .. " he whispered hoarsely.

"I love you more," he teased even as his fingers seeped ever closer to the gateway into Hwoarang, tickling the sensitive flesh that surrounded it. His mouth pressed to a spot on the right of Hwoarang's extended throat and latched there, suckling hard in hopes of giving a hickie, a term with which Jin was only vaguely familiar. The pumps of the redhead's body grew easier and slicker when aided by the reservoir already leaking over Jin's dam and onto Hwoarang's abdomen.

The sticky heat that began to make each fleshy thump of belly against belly audible caused Hwoarang to leak even more. He wrapped Jin in his legs, one arm closing around those thick shoulders. Aggressive, stroking fingers eased down the crease of the Japanese's tight rear once Hwoarang was locked to him, going beyond mimicking the Jin's touch to polish the pucker of soft, ringed tissue.

"You make me crazy," his panting mouth uttered, that place on his neck aflame. "So fucking crazy .. "

"Joon," he gasped throatily at the pressure applied by those fingers, pushing his body onto them for more of the delicious white-hot pain that they caused as if plucking the tightly wound strings of Hwoarang's guitar. His torso arched off of the Korean's long enough for him to replace himself further down the other's body. Holding Hwoarang prone, Jin rubbed at the entrance with the tip of the organ, ready and trickling.

"Do it," the redhead begged, pushing his index finger inside Jin with a cruel, unannounced swiftness to make his entreating command emphatic. " .. I need it .. " And he raised his legs higher, knees risen on each side of the Japanese's thick waist, and brought his mouth down to suck the corner of defined, delicious chin.

Jin uttered a tense, soft sound -- he was always the quiet one, compared to his lover -- at the penetration and lurched forward, sinking himself into Hwoarang up to the thickest mark, a short distance from the tip. His eyes shut tight, he panted wetly, gripping Hwoarang firmly to keep him in place as he resumed the initial thrust, set on burying as much of himself as he could. Hwoarang had wanted it rough.

A pained, impassioned gasp burst against Jin's jaw, seeming to struggle for breath the rod of flesh forced out of him. Far from relaxed, the muscular tissue around Jin clamped and closed him further in, rather than locking him out, and Hwoarang's own head was a fount between their stomachs -- the sudden arch in the Korean's body on driving them tighter together.

Jin's audible breathing was halted when he grit his teeth, grunting as he withdrew, slowing when that widest point passed through the muscled border. He would get Hwoarang through all of the discomfort now, he deduced, to make it easier later on. It seemed a noble plan. He attempted to utter Hwoarang's name again, but his thin, shivering breath failed him. In one thick, steady surge, he sank into the man until their hips were joined. He flexed himself now, trapped here in the deepest part of Hwoarang.

Hwoarang's breathing was labored as the tender vessel of entrance sought to adjust almost in futility to that immense width. And ravenous for the amazing feel of it, that unique agony and fire doused with the miraculous and wondrous sensation of being filled and emptied and then filled again with Kazama Jin, Hwoarang half-cried in a broken whisper, " .. don't stop ..!" and his blunt nails drove into the skin of Jin's shoulder, while the finger embedded within him pushed deeper, arching in a search.

Jin didn't stop. He slipped his arms upwards now, locking them about Hwoarang's shoulders as he began to pump himself into the vicelike barrier with short, rough, thumping pushes of his hips. The damp, hot muscle surrounding Hwoarang's finger gripped it vehemently, and for a moment Jin almost thought he felt himself liquefy from the sensation.

When Jin found a rhythm, and Hwoarang found that glandular nodule of susceptible flesh, each motion came in a rare synchronization building passions would soon enough erode. Hwoarang thrusted even as he was shaken, his narrow body an animated, energized vehicle for Jin to ride -- and the groans, the variations on the Japanese's name, suffice to say, would have made neighbors blush. Only the disused machinery in the warehouse could weather such echoes.

A growl seeped from Jin's mouth and into Hwoarang's neck, crashing into a hoarse cry of the man's name as his wire was not so much tripped as gripped and yanked. Pounding his entirety into the Korean one final time it was here that he violently erupted, a prisoner of his own throes.

Coating them both shortly after with a profuse amount of the salty fluid, Hwoarang's arms wound tight around his lover, sharing the seizure of each aftershock; the heave of each new gasp for air. His thighs were slack against Jin now, held by a magnetism spawned from the need to enfold the Japanese tight, lest he dissolve or disappear. Hwoarang's tenor was intoxicated.

"You're beautiful .. " He stated this fact against a hot earlobe.

With calmed eyes and an exhausted, content smile, Jin's desperate grasp on the biker settled down into something more akin into a cuddly hug.

"So are you," he hummed. He nuzzled Hwoarang's neck, and was quiet a short time, his heart regretfully easing its race and his lungs refilled on the air for which they had apparently been starved. "Hey..." He smiled proudly. "I gave you a hickie."

"I guess that means I'm yours forever," he recalled, forcing his heartbeat to a cadence, and relaxing against his pillow. The weight of Jin on him, spent inside him, was still luscious. When he grinned, it was weaker and informed with the effort of their exertions.

"I hope." Amidst the gurgling of the mattress he rolled over again, and once he realized how close he was to the edge of the bed, he sat up with Hwoarang against him, enough to slide himself back over towards the center. He yawned, settling down again. The pressure Hwoarang's body exerted about him was easing up as he felt himself begin to soften.

"Can we sleep like this?" he asked, stroking his fingers through the other's hair. Hwoarang had the softest hair he had ever felt; not that he had felt much else. One of the seniors at school had coerced him into fixing the barrette in her hair some time ago, but it hadn't been nearly as soft as Hwoarang's.

"Whatever you want, baby," he murmured against Jin's neck, having already regained his pillow in the form of that warm chest. " .. but I talk in my sleep. So ignore me .. " He trailed off drowsily, sustaining himself long enough to slide one arm along Jin's, and weave one set of fingers tightly through his. Hwoarang had never felt this sensation coursing through him before.

This feeling of absolute security.

"I can't ignore you," Jin said lazily as he let his vision drift away behind heavy lids. He lifted his head and kissed Hwoarang's temple, sighing gently as he settled one final time.

"Sleep well, Joon." With his other arm resting over the other's upper back, Jin would fall asleep smiling.

Return to Archive | next | previous