Author's Notes: This is my first Tekken fic, my first H/J fic (or should that be J/H? Hmmm. Who's on top? I hope at least one of them, or this will be a -very- empty fic!). This is also a PWP, and not really a fic, more of a snippet, and most likely will remain a one-shot, unless I decide to include it in another fic. I wrote it in the span of twenty minutes, and it's purpose is just to amuse the hell out of me, mostly. If anyone else enjoys it, that's just bonus. ^-^

Disclaimer: Namco owns them, not me. -sniff- And Hwoarang said I was the only one...


By Keishi

Jin leaned in and did what he wanted to do most in the world-- taste. He pressed his mouth briefly to Hwoarang's, then withdrew, licking his lips. Cola, his mouth tasted like cola, Jin realized. Sugary and sticky-sweet.

Hwoarang was too shocked to even form a thought. He blinked at the dark- haired man, frozen like a deer in headlights. Jin smiled inwardly as he watched the Korean martial artist's lips, ripe like cherries, open and close in confusion.

"Alright, Kazama, what the fuck was that for?" Hwoarang snarled when he finally pulled himself out of his daze. He threw his soda down, top popping open, ice and liquid seeping out onto the coppery dirt.

Jin's inward smile turned into an outward smirk. He spread his hands wide. "Well, you wouldn't share your soda..." He let the comment hang, intrigued at how his rival would react to it. Hwoarang met and surpassed every expectation Jin ever had.

"Mother fucking son of a bitch! If you wanted a soda that fucking bad, then just take it next time!" Hwoarang stomped around the grounds, arms flexing, fists clenching. "I have every right to punch you the fuck out for that, Kazama!" He poked a finger into the broader man's chest. "Every fucking right!"

Jin cocked his head. "So, you're saying, the next time I want something, if I want it really, _really_ bad, that I should just take it? Without asking?"

"Yeah!" Hwoarang exploded, not thinking about what Jin was saying. He was so wrapped up in his own distress that he barely registered an arm moving swiftly toward him. Jin captured the slighter man easily, before Hwoarang could do more than cry out.

Jin pressed the Korean to the dusty wall, arms like a vice grip around Hwoarang's shoulders, molding his body to the red-head's. His mouth descended yet again to Hwoarang's lips, tongue brushing lightly against them. His head swirled with the sweet, artificial taste that was the Korean boy. The kiss deepened, and Jin forced Hwoarang's lips open, plundering his mouth. Pain ricocheted through Jin's skull when the red- headed martial artist clamped his teeth down onto his tongue.

Staggering backward, Jin clutched at his mouth, eyes squeezed shut in agony. Hwoarang's fist caught him square on the chin, and Jin nearly fell to the ground; his enviable balance kept him on his toes however.

"Don't you _ever_ fucking do that to me again!" Hwoarang raged. He grabbed Jin by the shirt and hauled him to the wall, pressing the dark-haired man against it with surprising strength. His dark eyes burned into the broader man's as he held Jin there, faces centimeters apart. They stayed like that for a handful of moments, both breathing raggedly, as Jin wondered what fate had in store for him, completely at the mercy of this desirable red- head.

He had not long to wait, however, as cherry lips crushed themselves to Jin's. He opened his mouth in pleasant surprise, and Hwoarang's tongue, like a quick, hot wetness, delved inside. The sticky-sweet cola taste diminished slowly, and the black-haired youth decided that Hwoarang's actual taste was even more pleasing and addicting.

Before he could deepen the kiss, or even fully respond, the Korean forcefully let go of his rival and stalked away. Jin leaned against the dusty wall, breathless, hand to his mouth. His deceptively-lush lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Hwoarang's departing remark.

"I'm always the aggressor, Kazama. Always."


Owari. Please R/R.

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