Acceptance
Chapter 12
"Hwoarang?" Jin's voice was soft, docile and oh so very alluring as they lay there sprawled amongst the tangle of bedding on the Korean's mattress.
"Hmm, what is it?" Limbs shifted for a moment as the redhead twisted around to face Jin before eagerly pressing back against him. The apartment wasn't cold, despite the draft from the window, but neither wanted to lose the physical contact or the shared heat.
"Well, since it's custom to meet the parents of someone you're courting, I thought perhaps you should come and meet Heihachi." Silence ensued, for all of five seconds before Jin could no longer keep a straight face and burst out laughing.
"Jin that's not funny! You shouldn't joke about Heihachi! He scares the- mmf!" Hwoarang's half-hearted reprimand was lost beneath the sudden press of Jin's lips, though he was still annoyed that he'd believed him. Explaining the situation to the head of the Mishima Empire was a task that neither would relish.
"I'm sorry, I just like seeing you all panicked. You're usually so sure of yourself." Jin resumed his normal smirk, long, callused fingers sifting idly through Hwoarang's unruly mane, noting that the hair at the nape of his neck was still damp with sweat.
Neither of them had slept long, no more than a few hours in fact, and on such a narrow mattress it was hard to keep an unconscious body still enough to stop it from either nudging your partner onto the floor or accidentally jamming an elbow in their ribs. Jin had woken first, finding himself with an arm and a leg flung possessively across the Korean as if to pin him while they slept, and had taken the opportunity to glance around the room, take note of things he'd missed in his rush to relieve Hwoarang of his clothes. He was still amazed at his own libido. He'd never been so desperate or eager for anything, or anyone in his life.
For a while he'd tried to recall his first visit here, when he'd been more devil than himself, and had with some degree of success been able to remember pawing through Hwoarang's clothes, sniffing at them like a hound. Everything had been so much clearer, as if he could hear the sound of every separate drop of water falling in the shower, the light odour of sweat in the air as if the Korean had been straining himself. Testosterone. He'd smelt that too, though if Jin had been asked that very second to describe it, he couldn't. He'd just known that was what it was, and that was what had stirred the devil into desiring a fight, some meaningless violence to prove his dominance. No different than any other animal really.
Jin darted his tongue over the skin at the base of Hwoarang's neck, salt heavy on his tongue. They both needed to shower, but already the smell of their previous session was beginning to arouse the Japanese youth. If it had been anyone else's scent, he was sure he'd have been repulsed, but for now it was only serving as a reminder of what they could be doing. Hwoarang's teeth clamping sharply onto his collarbone cleared his thoughts abruptly.
"Jin, I'm hungry and I don't smell good. Keep him on a leash for now." A firm hand patting his semi-erect member only served to make him all the more aroused.
"But if you go and get clean I'll just work you into a sweat all over again." Jin complained, winding his arm around his lover's lean waist and tugging him roughly to lie sprawled upon him. Hwoarang peered down at him, smirking faintly before standing upright and stalking away with all the grace of a ballerina. Jin arched a brow, propping himself up to watch that sleek body wander into the bathroom. "Not sore?" He called, loud enough to be heard over the sudden noise of the shower. Hwoarang peered out of the doorway, toothbrush jammed in his mouth and shook his head before moving out of view again.
Truth was, Hwoarang was sore. Very sore. But pain was a problem he'd learned to ignore a long time ago, and so he'd strut around with his usual confidence as if it didn't matter. His stomach growled nosily as he stepped into the shower, standing motionless beneath the hot jet of water, feeling it pound against his back relentlessly.
He hadn't been so happy in a long time, and all the trouble he put up with when Jin wasn't around seemed unimportant in comparison. Jin was the one good, clean, untainted thing in his life. He hadn't let his position as heir to the Mishima Empire go to his head, he didn't lord it over everyone and he treated him as an equal. He wished he'd had the courage to say something to him after they'd made love, but everything he'd thought of seemed so very wrong. 'I love you,' would have seemed insincere, having known each other for such a short time, just a cliché phrase that he would have spat out without much thought in the arms of one of the many women he'd bedded, just to keep them happy. That made him chuckle quietly. It was true what they said, people really did over-use the word 'love' these days.
No. He wouldn't use the word love. Not yet. Not until he thought Jin was ready to hear it, and accept it from him anyway.
"Hwoarang? You fall asleep in there or something?"
The Korean growled at himself for letting his thoughts wander, yelling that he'd be finished in a minute, and hastily soaping the sweat and other dried fluids from his body.
By the time both were clean, dry and dressed, the stomach growls were becoming so regular that they couldn't stop themselves from laughing, and Jin was finally persuaded to leave other activities until later, when they'd both satisfied their appetites. Naturally, Hwoarang had nothing designed for consumption in his house save for things that had passed their sell-by date by several months or bottles of alcohol, so it was agreed by both that they head out to eat instead.
They'd not gone far, Jin pressed up close behind Hwoarang as they rode on his bike, when they heard the sound of sirens far ahead. Police cars lined the street on either side and a run-down hotel was gradually being reduced to a black, skeletal mess, rubble already heaped around its base. They were stopped before they could get within a hundred feet of the area, cops holding back a crowd of pedestrians who'd gathered to try and watch despite the chill night air. Gunfire, from somewhere inside the building it seemed, was almost constant, the staccato rattle of a machine-gun if Hwoarang heard it correctly. Jin's hand tugged lightly at his shoulder for attention.
"Hwoarang, we may as well go. We're just creating more work for the cops." The Korean nodded, on the verge of doing as Jin suggested, but then finding himself hesitating and looking back. "What's wrong?" The Japanese youth was obviously confused.
"You know, I bet that's Wulong in there." Hwoarang muttered, watching as the firemen finally arrived and set about dousing the flames as best they could. Jin's dark eyes widened slightly. He wouldn't have been surprised at all if Hwoarang were right, but he hoped to God he wasn't. Lei was the one person that knew about his problem, and though he didn't keep in contact with the cop, it was good to know the man was there in case things got really bad. Without a word to Hwoarang, Jin climbed off the bike, backing off a little so that he'd be able to see over the heads in the crowd.
Useless.
He couldn't see a thing, and he was hearing the gunfire less frequently. He didn't see Hwoarang glancing at him suspiciously, wondering why he cared so much, wondering if there was something that he'd missed.
A shrill shriek panicked the crowd as something crashed heavily inside the building. Part of the wall had fallen away, bricks charred from the heat, and out of the gaping hole sprang a familiar figure. A familiar figure that was horrifically burnt and certainly shouldn't have been able to move, let alone knock aside the cops that fired at him, a dozen handguns all aimed at his head.
But then, Bryan Fury was already dead, and all he did was laugh.
The crowd scattered as he ran towards them, vaulting over the police barricade and charging off down the street. Not far behind him was another, smaller figure, a large gun clasped in both hands.
Once clear of the crowd, Lei Wulong paused to aim at Bryan's back, braced for the recoil from the powerful weapon, but all he heard was a taunting click. He'd run out of ammunition, and Fury was putting more and more distance between them. Hissing obscenities, he began to run after the fleeing figure, his face smeared with soot, shirt stained with blood and ripped to the point that it fluttered like tattered streamers as he took off. Jin and Hwoarang watched him for a moment, exchanging glances. There was no way a normal human would be able to contend with the kind of stamina Fury possessed.
Hwoarang's bike roared to life a moment later, spinning in a half circle which barely missed Jin, before tearing off after Wulong. Jin watched dumbfounded as he was left without explanation, wondering what in the hell Hwoarang was hoping to achieve.
The Korean slowed his bike as he caught up with the cop, and for a moment there was a flash of menace in Lei's eyes, as if he were expecting trouble.
"Get on!" Hwoarang roared at him, glaring back just as fiercely. Lei didn't refuse, leaping onto the space Jin usually occupied with ease, barely clutching onto the Korean in time before they sped up again in pursuit. Fury wasn't slowing down at all. He ran like a thing motorised, as if he never ran out of energy, and his harsh laughter never seemed to cease.
Lei tugged his handgun from its holster, taking careful aim, and despite the shake of the machine beneath him, fired a perfect shot at Bryan's head. The zombie staggered, refusing to fall, and resumed his pace with a quick glance over his shoulder, eyes glittering with anger, teeth bared in a growl. Lei fire again, this time at the back of his neck, and the undead cop finally dropped, hands and knees jarring against the road roughly.
Hwoarang brought his bike to an abrupt stop, and Lei leapt off, striding over to the pale, mutilated body without any hesitation. Bryan rolled onto his back, laughing even as he choked on the blood that poured from the wound in his neck, the exit wound in the front of his skull ragged.
"Wulong, I'll kill you." Torn lips spread in a bloody grin as the zombie stared up at him. Lei's foot pinned him on his back, planted squarely in his chest. "I promise you that."
"You're going first Fury. For the second time I might add." Wulong spoke quite calmly, an executioner without sympathy for the wretched creature he was disposing of. Five shots, and there was very little left of Bryan's face only one eye staring upward, blood spattering the cop's shoe.
Hwoarang gave a sigh of relief, slumping over the front of his bike as he watched. Bryan was finally gone for good it seemed.
Something painful struck the back of his head.
He blinked, finding himself suddenly on the ground, armoured boots swarming around him. And there was Wulong! He was on the ground too, knocked out by the looks of it, slumped where Bryan had been only moments before. He didn't have time to try and work out what had happened, for a moment later there came another blow to his head, exactly where the last one had been, then everything went black.