Author's Notes: This was written as a challenge-fic from the wonderful ChibiShiva! (hugs) I'm sorry for the sheer crappiness of this fic. This pairing was kind of hard for me to try writing in an IC manner... I swear I tried my best... In fact, this fic reminds me of something straight out of namco's nutty Tekken 3 manga again... -.-;;;; If you've read that "A.D.I.D.A.S." fic of mine, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about...
I suppose I should be thankful I at least didn't get GanryuxKing or something... Still, if I had of gotten BryanxLee, JinxPaul, KazuyaxForest, or anything else, I would have done any of those, too! I love all pairings yaoi, yuri, and het alike, (minus a few certain characters, unless it's just for humour), and I love challenges; despite how crappily bad they can turn out when written by me...
I'll continue to politely ask for no flames, since seeing people arguing over the sexual preferences of fictional pixels is highly amusing, yet still rather stupid. This if fanficiton. It isn't real, just like Tekken isn't. People who give stupid flames of this nature obviously have colossal confusion in this department.
Warnings: Alcohol usage, some sexual content, some language
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the crap fic. (I say that a lot, too...)
(Quick note: 'Straight-edge' means you don't do drugs and/or drink at all. Not 'straight' as in heterosexual. Just thought I'd point that out before the fic, so no one thinks that if they didn't know the definition.)
Leaving the Monotony
"That good for nothing son of a bitch..."
Paul Phoenix cursed these words for what was surely the seventh time in the past seven minutes. He kicked an empty soda can at one of the countless streetlamp's bases with his right foot.
Kazuya.
Kazuya, Kazuya, Kazuya.
Die.
Die, die, die.
Yes, indeed there surely was a pattern of the sorts going on in Paul's head...
Why, though? Why couldn't Paul defeat Kazuya Mishima? Was it some kind of curse? Paul was not a failure. Not a loser. Yet he had lost to Kazuya Mishima yet again in the previous tournament, thanks to both the retched Mishima himself and that damned interfering Kuma. The tall blonde could still feel the aching in his rib-cavity from that delightful hit Kuma had presented him with before parting, and of course that mocking grin from Kazuya to add to hell's recipe.
Kazuya, Kazuya...
Die, die...
"Damn you, Mishima..." Paul spat under his breath.
Okay... So now what? The fourth tournament wasn't even over. Well, it was for him... Just his luck, huh? Working his ass off to get all the way up to the step just below the top one, only to fall down the entire flight of stairs due to one man...
"We're not finished..." muttered Phoenix, "Not at all. I'll find you again before I leave. Somehow... and I'll make you pay."
He mentally cursed himself again in the process of ambling towards his parked motorcycle. For the past several hours, Paul had basically been making random saunters, it seemed... In fact, he was sure he'd past the same gas station, the same restaurant, and the same bar at least several times already. Speaking of which, Paul really wanted to go into that bar...
Badly.
But he kept the restraint, in knowing he would have all the time in the world to drink incessant beers when getting back to his motel room. Oh yeah, that's right... Did he even have enough money to get back to Los Angeles now? That reminded him... he wasn't the only one in this boat. So was his best buddy Marshall Law, for that matter.
Yep... Paul really wanted to go into that bar... But this brought back memories. That's right... the same thing had happened following the second tournament, during of which Paul had lost to Kazuya yet again. He drank. And drank, and drank, and drank. Needless to say, he didn't remember the actual occurrences, but rather what had followed them... The hangovers, mystery lays, near death experiences due to near wrecks, and so on... Bah... it was all Kazuya's fault anyway...
Kazuya Mishima.
Die.
Paul elicited an abrupt growl of the sorts; turning as his ferociously kicked one of several newspaper dispensers adjacent to the bar's brick wall.
"Hey, that's public property!"
Paul's brows furrowed, though he was still in no mood to be messed with. He was damned angry, and no one messed with Paul Phoenix when he was angry, damnit. Paul turned around in a swift motion, raising his right-fist.
"Listen wise-guy, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but... wait a second... Lei?"
Indeed it was the Chinese detective, who stood under the luminous light of a high streetlamp while facing the blonde.
"Paul?" inquired Lei with furrowing brows of his own. "What are you doing?"
Paul simply shrugged in response. "Uh... you know... kicking stuff."
"Right..." replied Wulong with a sarcastic hand gesture. "You're angry about the tournament, aren't you?"
"Nah," Paul remarked with his voice now bearing sarcasm on the contrary. "The dispenser had a sign on it saying to kick it."
"That wasn't funny," the other fighter responded. He was trying to sound serious, but unfortunately was fighting the urge to chuckle all the same.
"Anyhow, what are you doing here?" Phoenix now made to ask. "No, don't tell me. You were in the bar, weren't ya?"
"Nope. I just happen to like this part of the sidewalk," Lei mused. "But yes, I was in there. Briefly. As in not very long."
"You're a bad liar," said Paul with a slight shake of the head.
"All the same, I didn't see you in there. Have you just been walking around out here?"
Paul gave a sigh in wanting to kick something yet again. "You know... just thinking and stuff. My alternative to not going into this bar."
Lei nodded. "I see. Thinking rather than drinking..."
"Well ya can't do both," Paul assured with folded arms.
"Like you could do the first one in the first place anyway..." the long-haired fighter muttered with his own arms folded to match Paul's.
"Excuse me?" the taller man grunted. "That sure is smooth, coming from someone who spends most of his tournament time in the prelims."
"How dare you?" Lei snapped. "You may be a lot stronger than I am, but I'll have you know without the brain to vouch for your attacks, you're as good as gone in the first place."
"Which is why you are always gone in the first place..."
"Is that an invitation?" the detective yet again snapped out.
Paul only rolled his eyes at this. "Actually, I just wanna go back to the motel and get a good night's rest, so I can hopefully escape from the nightmare I've been having all day. Sides', I wouldn't wanna fight you anyway, because we've always been on good terms."
Lei dropped his fists, and exhaled a sigh for himself. "You're right... I suppose I'm just not especially thrilled with myself at the moment... I hate to admit it, but you can also add a bit tipsy to that, more than likely. As you mentioned, yes, I did choose drinking over thinking. I've spent enough time in endless contemplation today, to the point the headache any alcohol brings upon me couldn't compare to the headache my thoughts were presenting me with..."
"That makes perfect sense..." agreed Paul with a huff. "Maybe I should've just gone in there and had a few shots after all..."
"No, I think you made the right decision by not," Lei replied with assurance, "It'd be dangerous with you driving that... thing back."
"Just like Forest," Paul sighed. "Now a man needs his motorcycle. End of discussion."
Lei gave a slight shudder in reminiscence to the lovely ride he'd been forced to endure on Hwoarang's Harley one time. This had been enough for him. He'd always prefer cars, or at least vehicles that had an actual exterior around you. Motorcycles all seemed so... careless and foolish, so these were kind of people they were meant for. The careless and foolish. Yes, this was certainly Paul and Hwoarang, alright... Just not him.
"I suppose it's all a matter of preference," remarked the raven-haired man, right before he leaned further back to support more of his weight on the tall streetlamp. He ran a hand back through his think tendrils of long and dark bangs when he could already feel the alcohol he had induced himself with taking its effects. Drinking was a way to wash away your thoughts, alright... Too bad it had to wash away your common sense in the process...
"So where are you going now?" inquired Paul, who let out a slight guffaw.
Lei shrugged. "I guess back to my hotel room. I need to do more research on what Kazuya's up to, surprise, surprise."
Paul's fists clenched.
Kazuya.
Die.
Phoenix couldn't help it. Every time Kazuya's name was spoken or merely thought of, the word 'die' instantaneously sprung to thought following. It was cause and effect.
"So what's the bastard up to this time?" Paul grunted.
"It's really odd..." Lei trailed in response to the inquiry. "G-Corporation resurrected Kazuya, but now, it's suddenly as if they want to shut him down."
"Good. The fucker needs to be shut down."
Lei sighed at this, but couldn't help but nod in agreement. "I only hope Jin's okay..."
"I know... hard to believe he's the son of that old bastard," Paul yet again grunted.
Wulong could already feel the headache knocking on his thoughts again. "I'd rather not think about this..." he sighed, "It's exactly what I'm trying to forget..."
"Can't forget it forever," the blonde corrected, "But once again, guess that's the all-around purpose of a temporary brainwash."
"Brainwash..." Lei murmured, now remembering something he really, really didn't want to think back to in retrospect. "Yes though, I gather it is. Well, I suppose I need to go on ahead and get back to my hotel room now. While I still can," he laughed slightly.
"You walked here?"
The long-haired fighter nodded. "Indeed. I didn't see the purpose in calling a cab or taking the bus when it's only a little over a ten minute walk, anyhow. I wanted to be alone all the same, just to have some time to think about things..."
"I thought you didn't want to think about things?"
"Oh shut up," Lei sighed, though knowing Paul had a very good point all the same.
Paul gave a laugh at this, soon noting the way the other fighter couldn't restrain a bit of laughter himself.
"So, want a lift?" inquired the tall blonde.
Lei stood up straighter, and gave Paul an odd look which had abruptly surfaced. "You mean on that motorcycle...?"
Paul nodded with another guffaw. "Why not? Unless you're... you know, too scared or something..."
Lei huffed at this. "I am not!"
"Then prove it."
"Alright, fine..." the Chinese sighed again with another huff. "Normally, I'm not at all intimidated by little things like this, but it's not like you're daring me climb up Mount Everest or anything."
"I'm gonna take a wild guess you haven't done that yet," stated Paul as he and the other fighter began walking down the moonlit sidewalk.
"Well, I train in the mountains from time to time, but no, I do not go mountain climbing," Lei chuckled.
"So what exactly do you do other than train, sleep, and inspect stuff?"
Lei actually drew a blank at this for a minute amount of time. "Oh, you know, this and that..."
"Exactly. You don't ever have any fun," Paul remarked in a half-scold.
"The word 'fun' is not part of my job... Therefore out of my dictionary," Lei muttered. His ambling came to a sudden halt just as Paul's had when reaching the stopping point. No sooner later, Paul got right on his motorcycle and cranked the engine to life.
"Well maybe a ride on a real man's bike will help put the word 'fun' back into your dictionary, then?"
"Or possibly add a new definition to the word 'ludicrous'," Lei added on, uneager as he could be while jumping up to join Paul. "And hey... where's the helmets?"
"What helmets?" Paul inquired with a smirk. "Now hold on tight, or yes, you will wish you'd had one of those helmets."
Lei's eyes widened at this on the spot, but the motorcycle had already begun moving by the time he was going to yell a random obscenity for Paul to stop post-haste.
"You might wanna hold on a bit tighter than th—" Paul's statement was cut short, when he abruptly felt his overall air supply cut in half as Lei's arms clutched his waist to the point he thought his eyes would pop out.
"Damn..." Paul coughed, "You're even worse about this than Forest is. Now which road do I take up here?"
"Right," Lei managed to get out, struggling to keep his voice level at one which could be heard over the bike's engines.
"Then left, right?" Paul asked in a loud voice.
"Right."
"Right?"
"No, left," Lei corrected.
"But you just said right? Then it is left?" inquired Paul, who was practically shouting.
"It's left, right."
"...What?"
"It's LEFT!" Lei exclaimed in frustration.
Paul had just come to the split in the road, and made a rather abrupt and sharp turn to the left just in time to actually make it. Lei's grip upon Paul's waist once again tightened as he felt dizzy from thrill of this, which he could most certainly do without on the contrary. He momentarily contemplated on the issue of who was the worse driver between Paul and Hwoarang. Anything was better than the thought of Paul running into something... or making too sharp a turn... Or not being able to stop the damn motorcycle in time... Anything that could cause Lei's body to dismember against the cement and his skull crack...
"Lei, could you.. loosen.. up a bit?" Paul nearly gagged.
"If you'll slow down a bit," Lei remarked. No sooner later, Lei felt the band holding his hair back to fly right off; causing his vastly long hair to surely fly everywhere all the same. "My hair came undone!"
"Your bear went for a run?"
"MY-HAIR-CAME-UNDONE!"
"Oh..." Paul stated in response. "Don't know what to tell you."
"What?!"
"THAT'S-TOO-BAD!"
Lei, needless to say, was very, very relieved when his hotel began to come into blatant view ahead of him.
"Is that your hotel up there?"
"What?!"
"IS-THAT-YOUR-HOTEL?!"
"YES!"
At the gracious speed Paul was going, it didn't take long at all before the aggravated set of fighters reached Lei's hotel in no time flat. Paul pulled around the side of the hotel; no sooner parking in one of several vacant spaces which were all in a row.
"My room's all the way on the end."
Paul blinked. "Uh, okay then." He roared the engine back to life again.
"No!" Lei abruptly shouted. "I mean; no thank you. I can surely walk that far."
"Then you can surely let go of me, so I can actually breath," Paul once again coughed.
"Oh... sorry about that..." Lei apologized, even flushing slightly as his arms receded.
"I can safely conclude motorcycles are not for you, alright..." Paul muttered while shaking his head. "Never were for Forest, either. Crap, that reminds me..."
"What is it?" asked Lei, just as he hopped from Paul's bike to stand on the pavement below.
The blonde sighed. "I need to call Marshall and find out if he was ever able to dig up any money in that new job he applied for..."
Lei looked rather bemused at this. "Uh, why would either of you two need a job here?"
"No money, remember?" Paul remarked, sounding very aggravated at the thought.
"You're welcome to come in and use my phone, if you like?" Lei inquired, then grimacing at the condition his hair now seemed to be in. Stupid bikes...
"That'd be good, actually," stated Paul in remarks. "Ol' Marshall's gonna be pissed at me as it is."
"How so?"
"For not trying to get a job. That's what I was supposed to be doing. Just... yeah... didn't do it..."
"Well, that is pretty irresponsible..." Lei replied, as he and the taller fighter walked down the side of the large hotel building.
"I know..." Paul once sighed. "I guess I was just so damn sure I'd win that tournament, money never crossed my mind. Guess truth is, I wasn't thinking about much outside of sending Kazuya back to hell. I was just so angry when I found out the son of a bitch was alive..."
"I assure you, you are not the only one who was surprised and displeased with the surprise," the long-haired fighter said in response. "I'm sure it was a shock for everyone..."
"Yeah..." Paul muttered, randomly kicking the cemented sidewalk with a loud shuffling sound.
"Well, here we are," Lei stated, then removing his wallet from the right-side pocket of his black slacks.
"So why didn't ya get one of the fancier rooms in this place?"
"I didn't see the point of it," remarked the other fighter, who then used a classic keycard to unlock the hotel room's door. "I spend near to no time here anyhow, and quite frankly, saw renting a penthouse or anything close to it as sheer insanity. Money doesn't grow on trees, after all."
"I hate that saying," Paul said following Lei's last sentence. "I can't believe people are still using it. Blah blah you can't get blood outta a turnip, what goes around comes around blah blah, and so on."
"I'll take a wild guess you hear these things from Law Marshall quite a bit then," Lei said with a nod, shutting the front door back into proper place after Paul had fully entered the room's confines.
"Lucky guess," sighed the blonde.
"The phone's on the nightstand next to the bed," Lei commented, extending his right arm in the phone's general direction. "Feel free to use it when you're ready."
Paul shrugged, and headed over to do just that. He could honestly say the Chinese fighter was probably in a hasted hurry to get rid of him. Go figure. Phoenix picked up the phone and held it to his left-ear, while using his right-hand to dial the correct numbers. The phone rang at least six times before someone finally answered it.
"Wei?"
Paul sighed after hearing Marshall's voice. "Hey there, bud."
"You didn't get a job, did you?" Marshall then sighed himself.
"Hey, I swear I tried and all... Just hard and everything. You know how most of these places feel about my shitty Japanenglish. Hell, not even I understand what I'm saying in this foreign talk half the time..."
"I understand that much, I guess," Law responded. "I was able to land a job at a restaurant at least. Just keep looking, and I'm sure you'll find something."
"Will do, Marshall."
"Hey, where're you calling from?" Law suddenly asked when the thought came to mind.
"I ran into Lei Wulong earlier during the job-hunt, gave him a ride back to his hotel, and he let me use his phone."
"Okay then," replied Marshall to this. "Tell Lei I said hi, and see you in the morning then. I have work tonight already..."
"Sucks, man. Well, see ya later."
"Bye."
"Bye then," Paul stated, right before hanging the phone up.
"Well that was pretty low of you, if I do say so myself," Lei smirked from his place on the small cough neighboring the bed Paul was seated on.
"Whaddaya mean?" inquired the blonde. "Oh, and Marshall says hi."
"You lied. You never went job-hunting," Lei once again smirked at the other fighter.
"Uh, yeah I did..." Paul remarked, trying to sound sure of himself. "It was before I ran into you, that's all."
"Do you think I'm stupid, or something?" questioned Lei, almost as if this had been directed as an insult on his behalf. "You patently told me you had been walking around in circles the whole time."
"Will you stop talking to me like I'm stupid then?" Paul retorted. "It's getting annoying. Truth is, I have a lot of shit in my life to sort right now. That's one thing I won't try to cover up."
Lei only gave an exhale of frustration, before opening the miniature refrigerator adjacent to the couch's base in order to remove what appeared to be beer.
"Uhh..." Paul stammered for a second. "Didn't you just come from the bar?"
"I'm still able to think, so apparently I didn't drink enough there as I thought I had."
Paul fought the urge to laugh for some reason. "That sounds like something I'd say."
"Here," Lei then stated, tossing one of the cold beers in Paul's direction. "If you drink some of this, this means I can't drink it..." he then laughed rather randomly.
The other fighter caught the silver can and accepted the drink, though his surfaced look of oddity ceasing to fade. "Lei, I don't think it's a good idea for you to drink anymore of this stuff. You're already not acting sober."
"It just so happens I have a very high tolerance for alcoholic intakes," Lei rest-assured, then sighing again while running the fingers of his left-hand back through his hair. "Could you toss me that brush on the nightstand while you're at? I'm dying to comb these rats out of my hair that your careless speeding caused. You're lucky I didn't write you up for that."
Paul grunted.
Lei was a real bitch.
Or at least this is what Paul had been thinking just as he reached to ensure the brush in his grasp, before then flinging it over to the seated detective.
"Sorry," Lei stated shortly after catching the brush by its plastic handle. "Everyone else is annoyed by me, so go figure you are, too..."
"It's cool," Paul remarked before taking another large sip of the beer he held.
"Darnit," the long-haired fighter abruptly cursed out of nowhere. "The brush fell behind the couch. Well, I suppose I'll just have to move it out some."
Paul blinked, in noting Lei had already finished the entire beer he had seemingly opened a mere minute ago. He set his down on the wooden nightstand, before standing up to amble over and help Lei move the couch.
He took one end while the detective took the other, before they moved it out a few inches from the wall.
"Here it is..." Lei made noticed, bending forwards to once again gather the brush into grasp. Directly after this, he took a seat on the couch just as he had earlier.
"Aren't ya gonna move it back?"
"Hmm?"
Paul only sighed, and went ahead and moved the couch back into place with Lei still seated on it. When he poked his head back over the couch's outer arm, he saw what appeared to be the other fighter opening yet another drink. Only this time it appeared to be pure and hard liquor...
"Lei... You really shouldn't drink that. You're gonna get a killer hangover..."
Lei rolled his caramel eyes at this. "Didn't I already tell you I can handle a lot?"
"Well, it's your body..." Paul muttered, then taking a seat on the couch next to Lei.
Wulong's head suddenly fell back, as he sighed and ran a hand back through his hair.
"Something wrong?"
Lei nodded at this. "Everything..."
"Yeah, got that right," responded Paul.
"It's all Kazuya's fault..." Lei harshly stated, before taking another very large drink of the liquor bottle he held.
Paul swore he heard the word 'die' mentally spoken in his head again directly upon the mentioning of Kazuya's name. "What isn't that fucker's fault?" he spat under his breath.
"My life would be so much better if it wasn't for him..."
"I'm in that boat, alright..." Paul mumbled with a grunt. "What'd he do to make your life hell?"
"Oh, you remember why I entered the second tournament, I'm sure," Lei remarked at this.
"Yeah. Your partner was murdered on an airplane the two of you were on while undercover or something," Paul stated while thinking back on the subject, "Or at least I think that's what it was. But hey, I thought you said you suspected that Irvin guy for that?"
Lei only laughed rather carelessly at this. "Oh of course. Little Bruce didn't think I'd figure it out, but I did. He's not dead... he's not dead I tell you. That crash was staged! I don't care if anyone believes me... it was staged, I tell you!"
Yep... Lei needed to lay off the alcohol. Paul didn't say anything, however, in knowing he'd more than likely be met with another rude retort of the sorts. He was actually getting ready to leave, anyway.
"I hate him..." Lei suddenly muttered. "I hate Kazuya so.. much.. Because of him, I lost everything. They all died because him. All of them. Jun, Bryan, and everyone else. I don't care what anyone says. He'd done something to Bruce... that was why Bryan died. It's not my fault, goddamnit!"
Paul looked... well, very, very confused. And startled, for that matter. "Lei, what the HELL are you talking about?"
"I'm tired of everyone blaming me for all these deaths..." Lei whispered, "I'm tired of blaming myself for all these deaths. If Jin dies, hell, I'll blame myself for that, too. I hate Kazuya. I HATE HIM!"
Paul allowed the other fighter to quite frankly fall against him following this exclamation, wrapping his arms around the smaller frame as Lei clung to him in an almost desperate manner. The blonde didn't really know what to do... So yes, now Lei was obviously drunk, and obviously didn't know what the hell he was saying. Paul had no clue what Lei had been talking about before regarding Bryan, and didn't even realize that Bryan Fury was the same Bryan he'd been referring to, nor did he get anything else Lei had been talking about. All the same, Paul's feelings for Kazuya Mishima were surely enough mutual...
"It's okay... And you're right that it's not your fault... So don't you even go thinking that," Paul whispered while looking into Lei's apparently glazing eyes; despite the fact that he still didn't at all know what Lei had been referring to. "I hate him, too..."
"Paul, I..." Lei whispered with his face only a couple inches from Paul's. Then, not even that much space was there...
Paul's eyes closed when he felt Lei's lips on his own. Hell, he didn't even KNOW who had made the first move... Maybe they both had? Paul didn't really know what he was doing when he pushed his tongue into Lei's mouth. However, the moment he did, he could taste what was blatantly alcohol, and this brought back the realization that in the detective's current state of mind, Lei could be thinking he was kissing Jun Kazama for all Paul could say...
The blonde man abruptly pulled away, looking slightly startled. "I... shit..." he cursed. "I think I better go now..."
Paul stood up, and no sooner began making his way to the door. However, just as he reached the foot of the full-sized bed, he felt a grip on his arm.
"Don't go..." Lei silently stated.
"Lei, you're drunk, and you don't know what you're doing."
"I am not drunk," Lei retorted to this, actually sounding, well, drunk... In fact, he fell backwards directly after this statement. Thankfully, he was just in front of the bed, or otherwise, he would have landed smack-dab on the floor...
The blond man blinked, and turned around. "Shit, are you okay?"
"Mmm hmm," remarked Wulong, who brought his left-hand to the side of his head.
Paul sighed, and lowered himself as he crawled upon the bed. "Lei, you don't look so good..." Okay... so maybe he DOES look good... Awe fuck it, he knew what I meant. Maybe it's me who doesn't know what I'm saying...
"I feel fine."
For a moment, the two fighters just... stared at each other. Paul looking down at Lei, and Lei looking up at Paul. Phoenix knew this was the good time to just leave, and let the detective get the rest he needed. He would probably pass-out soon enough, anyhow. Right when he was about to get up, he felt a hand on his face.
Paul chose not to render this. Well, at least his body chose not to... Oh what the hell...? Paul leaned down, and kissed Lei yet again. The raven-haired fighter actually seemed more than willing to abide, especially when Paul's lips descended further to the side of his neck, and then continuing to his collarbone as the buttons on Wulong's shirt began to snap free.
As the blonde pulled back, he just too a moment to stare at Lei. The way his silken shirt had fallen just below his shoulders. The way his long, licorice hair was fully down and shining in contrast to the large brown eyes staring back up at him. Hell, Lei looked perfectly fuckable, to get right down to it... And as much as Paul knew it would be much better to resist, he couldn't.
Paul felt as Lei's hips thrusted upwards slightly, already giving him the green light to go on to the next step. Or was it a yellow light? Oh what was the difference? You could go on both, after all... His hands no sooner did well in pulling Lei's slacks down to his thighs. Then his knees, and then they were off. After undoing the knot to his own black-belt, the absence of Paul's red gi wasn't too far behind...
Now another problem was presented here... Paul doubted Lei had truly planned any of this... and unless there was a LOT about this little detective no one knew, Paul also doubted there was any lubricant lying around this hotel room. Lovely... because now the blonde fighter was getting rather impatient already, but he still wasn't deluded enough to take Lei plum raw. That'd be... yeah... too evil. And the last thing Paul wanted to do was be able to link any common points between himself and Kazuya. He shuddered at the thought.
"Just do it..."
Paul's large brows furrowed at the other man's words. "I think some form of lubrication should be in or—"
"I don't.. want any.." Lei retorted in a half whisper.
"You know that'll hurt pretty bad, don't ya?"
"I know that..."
Paul narrowed his eyes slightly with a smirk. "Sorry, but last time I checked, my name wasn't plated on the psychotic list of fighters." He stuck two of his own fingers in his mouth shortly afterwards, causing a look of aggravation to surface on Lei's face.
Phoenix wasn't even going to ask... Normally, he wouldn't care about the sexual past of anyone he was with, since quite frankly he had too much shit in his own life to worry about, along with the fact that it was, after all, their pasts. Still, for some reason, he was curious about Lei's... There were several possibilities on the table already. One, he just wanted something more to wash away these disquieting thoughts of his... like replacing pain with pain... Two, he was a masochist. Three, he was just an idiot. Oh what the hell... it was probably all three...
The long-haired fighter was about to argue again; when he no sooner felt Paul's set of slickened fingers enter him first. His teeth clenched, and his eyes snapped shut in pain.
Paul smirked once again. "See, if this alone hurts you this much, I'm sure you can imagine how much something much, much bigger would."
"Quit your boasting," Lei managed to get out. "You don't think I know that...?"
"I think you do..." replied Paul at this, "Yet something tells me I don't wanna know why..."
Lei just didn't say anything. Paul was right. He didn't want to know.
Thankfully for the detective, his thoughts were fucked enough to the point careless apathy had taken over, and a sort of 'fuck the world' view of mind set in... Normally, Lei knew this approach compelled with what he was about to do here was so WRONG he was going against everything he'd been taught and come to respect his entire life. Still, what was the point now? Or did it just take some form of hydroxyls to calm your contradicting thoughts long enough, to where the dull tedium of an emergent void in your life suddenly no longer mattered? Indeed this was the point to adding a few curves along that straight-edge you only thought you had. Maybe this was the reason Lei had become an alcoholic in the first place... To forget the monotony, without realizing he was only adding to it...
Paul looked down at Lei upon removing his digits, and could actually grasp onto a small piece of the thoughts racing through his head. Apathy, dejection, anger, lust, regret... and of course, monotony; when everything in your life seems empty. Unfulfilling. Why was it just now Paul was suddenly going over the issue of how achieving that superior title and defeating Kazuya would do nothing to change that emptiness in his life? In fact, it would only bring him to realize he'd just eradicated what little purpose he had in life...
Damn.
The tall fighter cleared his troubling thoughts as he lifted Lei's hips in his hands. Maybe what he was about to do here would help diminish these horrible thoughts for at least that long...
Lei felt the sudden press of Paul's large member at his entrance below, and readied himself for the pain he knew was about to come... The pain he wanted. The pain he needed. And then there it was... The raven-haired fighter's body stiffened at the intrusion, but welcomed it at the same time.
Paul didn't really take any form of a pause, and began moving immediately once he was in far enough. Now his thoughts were partially mimicking Lei's. Fuck the world, right? Forget about the past, the future, and what's going on in everyone else's lives. Make it so now was all that mattered. If that, even... Phoenix grasped either of Lei's prominent hips in hand, and began pulling them upwards to meet with his thrusts. This felt really, really good. He then took a moment to look down at the other fighter. Not that he really cared at the moment how he was feeling, but he still couldn't understand how anyone could actually enjoy getting fucked like this. To Paul, the chances of someone getting him on the receptive side like that were about as likely as him becoming a professional ballet dancer. Not possible, that is.
Wulong, for the moment, could honestly say he wasn't getting a whole lot of pleasure out of this thus far... It hurt more than anything, quite badly in point of fact... Not bad enough for him to cry at all, as he'd become quite used to taking pain over time with the career he had among other things, but the urge was still there. Oh well... This was what he wanted, right? Suddenly, he felt the way Paul grabbed the back of his knees and began to push his legs back against him.
"Damn you're flexible," Paul got out in the way of a gasping moan. It seemed the positional shifting in angles was having the same effects on Lei, as the blonde actually heard a soft moan escape his lips.
Lei's hands pulled at the sheets as Paul's pace quickened, while he then felt his own knees hitting his upper chest. Thank goodness he was so flexible, or there surely would've been some ligaments torn here. All the same, the raven-haired fighter still found it so odd the way pain could transpire into pleasure so quickly... Straight from the kind of pain that paralyzes your mind and body alike, to the kind of pleasure that does exactly the same thing. He surely would have been thrusting his own hips upwards to meet the other fighter's by this point, if it wasn't for the fact that his entire body was pretty much pinned.
Paul began to elicit a few restrained groans here and there at the pleasure he was feeling. That's all there was. No other thoughts, no other feelings. Nothing but the pleasure.
"Fuck, Lei..." Paul moaned, and then came at the same time. The sensation was... wonderful, really. He carried on with his movements upon the detective nonetheless, making sure he didn't stop until he had nothing left to give. He gradually slowed down, and freed his grasp from against the back of Lei's sweaty legs in the process of trying to steady his breathing back to normal.
"Paul..."
The blonde looked down at the other fighter upon the hearing of his name. Now that it was all over for him, he was suddenly angry with the both of them alike.
"What?"
"Please... let me finish..."
Paul exhaled, adverting the gaze of his eyes while he freed his softened member from Lei's body. Not roughly, but definitely not in a gentile motion by all means, either; causing the Chinese to squint.
"Lei, you don't know what you're saying. Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing. Or did, I guess..." Paul muttered, still not looking at Lei's face at all. "We've done too much as it is... I think it would be better if I left now, and you forgot all about this."
Though more far gone than he had been, Lei seemed frustrated nevertheless. "Please..." he once more pleaded.
Paul sighed again. Apparently, getting the release he desired was still the only thing on Lei's mind. Not that Paul's own thoughts had previously been any different a couple minutes ago, and heck, if that was how Lei was feeling now, no wonder he couldn't think of anything else...
"Alright..." the blonde fighter said in a lower voice of audibility. Shortly afterwards, he allowed his right-hand to move between Lei's slightly-parted legs, and let his grasp fall just where the other wanted it, obviously. Wulong's head fell back as Paul's digits fully encircled his length, before the hand began moving following. Paul held Lei's hips down with his free hand to them from thrusting upwards, staying consistent the whole while.
Paul began working his hand harder and faster, hoping he could get this over with all the more soon. Luckily for him, Lei had already been on the very edge in the first place, so it didn't take the fighter below him long at all to find the release he so desperately craved. Lei's back arched off the bed's mattress, and he covered his mouth with a hand to keep from crying out as he spilled forth.
The blonde fighter gave another exhale before standing from the bed. Lei was the lucky one... Why couldn't Paul have been the one drunk? Well, or least the both of them been drunk... Now who KNOWS what Lei was would try to hit him back with the following day... Shit, he really could try to throw him in jail for this or accuse him molestation, couldn't he? Thankfully, that last line was demolished as a possible outcome when it abruptly hit Paul that this was the LAST thing Wulong would want in the papers anytime soon.
Paul ambled over to the small bathroom, to wash his hands among other things. Then he was going to get dressed, and of course, leave. Hopefully, Lei would forget any of this ever happened... Said thing is, Paul knew he himself wouldn't anytime soon, if ever... He felt bad for this... yet he didn't feel as though he'd used Lei, Paul felt it was the other way around – to where he'd been the one used... Again, it was hard for him to believe you could go from feeling so damn good one second, to feeling so damn shitty the next.
As soon as he walked back out of the bathroom to proceed in putting his clothes back on, he instantly noted the way it seemed Lei had already fallen asleep. Great... well, actually yes. This meant Paul could just... yeah, sneak out. This all made him feel so stupid for some reason. Despite this, however, Phoenix continued to do just as he'd intended now. He found his clothes, put them on, and sauntered straight for the front door. Before he exited the room, he couldn't help but look back to Lei one last time... He was sleeping on his stomach, arms folded over the pillow, and long licorice strands of hair fanned out everywhere. He actually looked quite pretty... Very pretty... No, no... no more of these 'bad' thoughts. Ever, ever again. Time to leave and forget. Without further ado, Paul turned, opened the door, and left.
2 Days Later...
"Paul?"
No reply.
"Paul?"
Still no reply.
"Hellooooo, is anyone home in there?"
Paul felt the sudden, literal knocking on his head, and turned around as he slapped Marshall's arm away.
"Sheesh, what's gotten into you lately?" Marshall questioned in a smirk, then sitting down to join the blonde fighter on the park bench. "You've been acting really despondent for the past couple of days. Worse than usual, I might add. Look, I know you're upset about the tournament and all... but that's no excuse for you not to sit here, and enjoy eating your ice-cream."
Paul sighed. "Shut up, Marshall. Everything's fucked right now, and you know it. Shit, and now it turns out Forest is in JAIL for hell's sake. I can't believe the kid would take my motorcycle out for a joyride like that... And damn... just, damn I hate the place. I wanna go back to L.A. and forget about it..."
"Your ice-cream is melting."
"I'm going to kill you."
Both of the fighters chuckled slightly at this.
"Yeah, c'mon Paul," Marshall continued, giving his friend a reassuring pat on the back. "We'll hopefully have the money in no time. But for now, it's a sunny day, and there's not a cloud in the sky."
The taller man squinted. "Then what do you call that big fat white thing up there in the sky?"
"...Shut up Paul," Law muttered to this. "It was a matter of speech. And no use crying over spilt milk, remember?"
"I HATE it when you use those sayings. I know that's why you said that, too," Paul sighed with a shake of the head.
Marshall shrugged. "Okay... yes, that is why I said that."
"You're just asking for a noogie right now."
Law actually laughed at this. "No, I think it's Forest who loves those so much." He guffawed once again, but as his glance wondered upwards, he took something else into view. Or rather, someone. "Hey Paul?"
"Huh?"
"Is that Lei Wulong?"
Unfortunately, Paul had just taken a big mouth full of his chocolate ice-cream, which partially came back out of his mouth in a sudden choking cough at Marshall's sudden inquiry.
"Yes, that is him," Law clarified, giving a wave.
"What are you doing?" Paul snapped out, "You don't want him to come over here?"
"Uh... Paul, he is coming over here. What's with this sudden hatred for Lei going on, might I ask again? You've become more obsessed with him than Kazuya lately..."
"I told you already," Phoenix retorted while folding his arms. "He's a conniving little stuck-up bitch, and he thinks he knows everything."
"Hmm... sounds a lot like someone else I know..." Marshall stated, looking at Paul.
Paul smirked at this. "Well of course you're gonna know yourself by now."
Law punched the blonde fighter in the upper-arm. "You take that back!"
"You take what you said back!" Paul then punched Marshall in the arm. Next thing, they were punching each other back and forth like ongoing clockwork.
No sooner later, Lei stopped right in front of the two, unnoticed. "Am I... interrupting something here?"
Marshall and Paul both stopped with the random hits, to look up at the detective.
"No, not really," Marshall sighed in response. "So how are you doing?"
"I'm okay. Same old, really."
"I bet I know what that is..." muttered Paul.
Lei looked away, and sighed. "Law Marshall, is it okay if I have a few words with Paul here for a second?"
"No," Paul replied.
Marshall looked at the two quizzically. "What's going on here? Paul... are you under arrest or something? I'm serious here. What did you do this time?"
"No, he's not under arrest," the long-haired fighter chuckled slightly.
Law only shrugged again. "I don't believe that, or believe he at least vandalized something again, but oh well..." he then turned his head, to once again face Paul. "Get up and go talk to him. I'm not moving from this spot until I finish my mint-chocolate-chip ice-cream."
"Whatever..." Paul muttered again, standing from the metal bench as he unfolded either of his arms.
For at least a single solid minute, both Paul and Lei walked down one of the many park paths in sheer silence. It was actually rather disquieting... for Paul, at least.
"So... how are you?" Lei inquired, breaking the drawn-out silence.
"Oh just wonderful. In fact, I've never felt so damn great in my entire life," Paul remarked in a voice made up of obvious sarcasm.
"Look..." Lei began, trying to find the right words. "I know you're mad at me for what... happened the other night... And it was my fault, so don't blame yourself..."
"Oh, I see now. So disgusted with yourself, you can't even bring yourself to say it," stated the taller fighter, who stuffed either of his hands in his pants pockets. Maybe this would keep him from punching Lei, as he wanted to hit him quite badly at the moment.
"You are putting words in my mouth," Lei remarked at this, halting as he stood in place. "What do you want me to say, huh Paul? Other than I'm sorry, I don't know what else you're expecting me to say?"
"Hmm... how about, 'I know I may be a slut, but you still weren't just another fuck to me'?" Paul suggested in a smirking tone.
"That was uncalled for..." Lei whispered, truly appearing as though this statement had hurt him.
Paul grunted when it appeared the detective was turning to walk away from him, and grabbed his left-arm at the midpoint. "Where do you think you're going? I don't remember saying you could go anywhere."
"Let me go."
"No," Paul grunted. "I find it hard to believe you would follow me here just to say you're sorry."
"What were you expecting me to do?" Lei inquired, once again failing to free his arm from Paul's grip upon it. "Tell you I haven't thought about anything else since it happened? Slap you? Kiss you?"
"I'm guessing the answer to that is all of the above, though I could do without number two..."
"Like number three better then, huh?"
"Hey, I never said that," Paul corrected, frustration still painted all over his facial features.
"Maybe I could arrest you, then?" Lei half-retorted.
Paul didn't say anything at this, and only sighed again accompanied by a classic eye-roll.
Lei allowed his glance to fall downwards, to where he was temporarily facing the grey, cracked pavement covered in scattered leaves and sakura petals while he gave an exhale. The fighter only shook his head in a brief motion, before once again turning to saunter away.
Quickly, Paul ensured his grasp at Lei's nearest arm yet again.
Wulong had partially had it at this point. Angered, he spun around with every intention of socking Paul right in the face with his right-fist.
Phoenix caught Lei's arm and directed its packed fire to the side as he pulled the other fighter towards him. Startled, Lei looked up at Paul, but just as he was about to speak, the blonde fighter's free-hand actually grasped its way into Lei's hair from behind and pulled it, reacting in Lei's glance shooting straight upwards before Paul did well in leaning down to press their lips together.
Just now, a couple of teenage boys and one girl were walking by in a chatting trio. They shot the two fighters rather... odd looks, but kept walking nonetheless after throwing a few laughing gestures here and there.
Oh well... neither of the two fighters really paid any attention to the growing collection of stares they were attracting at this moment. This moment was only theirs. Screw everyone else...
Still, surprise surprise, Law Marshall happened to be walking right down the same sidewalk at this very point...
"Yum yum; I scream for Ice-... scream..!" Marshall's nearly-finished ice-cream cone fell to the pavement below, to splatter in a splotch of spearmint green. Law stared blankly. This was no chimera.
Paul and Lei abruptly pulled away from each other.
"I swear it's NOT what it looks like!" Lei practically pleaded.
Marshall remained petrified. "..."
Paul swallowed. "...That ice-cream's powerful stuff, buddy. Eat it too fast and it goes right to your head. Makes ya see stuff... Yeah..."
-v-
-End
Me: ...x.x;;;