Author's Notes: I’ve read enough fictions to know that my basis was cliché. Now, I haven’t really begun to care yet, so I’ll let you know when I do. Oh and I haven’t had the time to proofread, but it went through a spell check. I hope that’s enough! (It usually isn’t but that’s ok)

DISCLAIMER: Nothing Tekken related in this fiction belongs to me, despite my attempts at kidnapping Jin. Don’t worry. I’ll keep trying.

Impermeable

Chapter 1 - Shadows

By Chlover

Blood was everywhere. The thick red substance oozed down the large dumpsters, and from splatters on the brick wall. It glistened under the florescent streetlight. The mess was almost a beautiful touch to the dirty, rat infested street. No matter how tainted the blood was by disease or drugs, it looked so pure among the grime. The heavy odour of sweat and blood lingering in the already foul air meant the scene was fresh. Even the tension remained.

Jin’s vigilant eyes searched his surroundings for any sign of threat or victim. His cell phone was held tightly, fingers ready to squeeze the emergency speed dial upon any discovery or attack. The victim had to be around there somewhere, unless the attacker took them.

He carefully stepped over a puddle of dried vomit, probably days old. Something scraped against the pavement, but nothing in Jin’s line of vision was moving. A cough and quiet painful groan drew the Japanese man’s attention to the shadows behind the dumpsters. He stepped around them. Yes. Someone was definitely there. It was just a matter of getting them to come out where Jin could see them. He was confident in his fighting skills, but it wasn’t safe, even for him, to go into the shadows with a complete stranger. For all he knew, it could have been the person who caused all the bleeding just trying to trick him.

Jin remained just outside the shadow’s border. Thinking of something to say proved difficult, “What happened?”

A pained snort came in reply, “What? You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?”

The voice was familiar, though it was hard to tell through the layers of agony, despite the person’s attempt at hiding such weakness. Jin looked back at the area, making sure no one else was present, “It’s safe. You can come out.” After the other person took no move, he added, “Nobody’s here.”

“You’re here,” The fear in the stranger’s voice was cleverly laced with a disguise of anger.

Jin allowed himself to fall against the brick wall, first making sure it was a considerably clean spot. He spoke quietly, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll take you to a hospital.”

“The sight of you hurts me, Kazama.”

Kazama. The stranger knew his name, even with the security of the hood of his jacket. Who would he possibly find bleeding in a bad neighbourhood that knew him so well? It could only be one person. Yes. The voice was sounding more familiar now. “Hwoarang.”

The hidden Korean laughed lazily to himself. His voice getting quieter as it became more difficult to hide the pain, “I’m so glad you remember my name, rich boy.” Hwoarang coughed violently for a few moments, before regaining his pride and speaking again, “Beat it.”

Jin shook his head, tempted to pull Hwoarang out of the dark, himself, “You need help.”

“People have been telling me that since I can remember, Kazama. Stop being cliché and get lost.”

Impossible. Jin sighed as he looked around once more, this time more out of annoyance then anxiety. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered trying to help people. Most of them were incredibly thankless anyway. It was more or less a waste of energy and time. But in that case, his old rival could have been on the verge of death, or something close to it. Leaving Hwoarang there, lying in his own blood, was out of the question. So how does one help a dieing, proud, street punk?

Motorcycle goggles were left about two yards from Jin’s boot. They were cracked and splattered with blood like almost everything else in the area. Cars drove buy, paying no mind to the mess. They were either selfish or afraid. Hwoarang’s dark corner behind the dumpsters was safe from the headlights. Jin watched after the taillights of a brown Volkswagen, positive that all of humanity was both Selfish and afraid. See no evil.

“Why are you still here?” Hwoarang asked, stifling a cough.

Jin peered into the shadows, hoping to make out his rival’s form. No luck. He soundlessly prayed that the surrounding blood belonged to more then one man. He prayed the blood belonged to more then two men. It was frightening to think that one of the worlds best could loose so much. Jin’s voice came out in a troubled whisper, “Can you walk? At least let me see you.”

“Fuck off, Kazama.”

“Hwoarang-”

“I said, Fuck off.”

How could he be so stubborn? Jin pushed himself away from the wall and faced the corner where Hwoarang hid. He wouldn’t give up that easy, “Either you come out here where I can see you and prove to me that you don’t need my help. Or I come get you.”

It was silent for a few moments. Something scraped the pavement again as Jin could hear Hwoarang shift around in the dark. Eventually a response came, only not the kind Jin expected, “Please Jin,” The Blood Talon pleaded in a barely audible voice, “Go away. Please.”

The desperation in Hwoarang’s voice came as a shock to Jin, but as much as he wanted to obey, he knew he couldn’t. “Why do you want me to leave?”

Hwoarang choked and spit up something that Jin hoped wasn’t blood. After a moment of recovery, he replied, “Because I hate your guts, Kazama.”

“I’m coming in there.”

“No!” Hwoarang shouted; his voice cracked with pain, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

The Korean obviously wasn’t about to give up. The choices that remained left little room for thought. Jin stepped forward, bothered only slightly as the darkness swallowed him whole. Before a guess, as to where Hwoarang was positioned, could form in his mind, a boot pressed against his lower abdomen. In a shove rather then a kick, Jin was pushed back into the light.

In moments, the defeated Korean emerged from the shadows. Jin held onto a gasp as he laid eyes on the marred figure before him. Even under the florescent light, Jin could see that his rival was disturbingly pale. Hwoarang’s hair was glistening and matted down from what Jin guessed was sweat, and a bit of a darker, thicker substance near the back. Three painful looking marks trickled blood down Hwoarang’s cheek. Whoever had attacked him had been wearing rings. Big rings. His torn, dark-stained, sleeveless, denim shirt implied that there were a sad amount of wounds hidden. As for his lower half, it was difficult to tell aside from a subtle limp when he walked.

Hwoarang shook his head, disgusted by Jin. He turned, ready to walk away, only to be forced to his knees by a wave of dizziness. Jin rushed to his side, stopping the sickened man from falling on all fours. Such a scene had to be humiliating to the poor Blood Talon, but there wasn’t much that could have been done about that, save leaving him to the plentiful insects.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Jin softly stated as he pulled the other man to his feet.

Dark Korean eyes darted around in confused desperation, “The hospital? No. I…” He coughed, almost falling back to the ground, had Jin not been there, “I can’t go to the hospital,” His voice fell to a whisper, “No, please no.”

The word ‘please’ sounded unnatural coming from Hwoarang. By the way he spoke the word, it felt just as unnatural as it sounded. Jin frowned, not understanding what the issue was with facilities built to help people. He gripped Hwoarang’s arm tighter as the other man almost fell over once more. “Why not?”

Hwoarang bent over slightly spitting at the curb. At that angle, Jin was able to see how severe the head wound looked to be. The man most likely had a concussion, and needed medical attention quickly.

“I can’t,” The trembling man started, “Because they’ll find me at a hospital. I’m safer in that corner. Let me go back, Kazama.”

Jin shook his head, persistently, “Fine, I won’t take you to a hospital, but you’re coming with me.” He carried out his proclamation by gently ushering the wounded man to an awaiting Green Acura NSX. No argument came from the other man. Hwoarang slipped obediently into the charcoal regal seat as Jin walked around to the other side.

“You cheated us out of our money, asshole!”

Hwoarang turned, quirking a brow at the 3 men jogging up to him, “I’m sorry. Do I know you gentlemen?” When all he got was hostile sneers in response, he continued, “Look, You’ve got the wrong guy. I’ve been in the military for two years, so there’s no way I could have cheated you.”

A man at least half a foot taller then Hwoarang, stepped forward, dangerously close to the relaxed Korean. The man said, “It was three years ago you cheated us, ‘Blood Talon’,” The other two guys snickered to each other as the man continued, “You and your little stoner gang. I think it’s time we get out money back.”

Hwoarang rolled his eyes and turned back toward his destination, whatever it may have been. Those guys were becoming no more then a waste of time, “If you’re after a rematch, you’ll have to wait. I’ve got a more important fight to prepare for before I mess with the little people.” He stepped up beside a large dumpster and lit a cigarette, allowing the men to dwell on his dismissal.

Suddenly, something solid and thick hit Hwoarang on the back of his knee. His legs folded under him, and the cigarette fell out of his mouth. Proving his quick reflexes to be in working order, his hands shot out just in time to stop a thick bar from smacking him in the face. He yanked the bar out of his attacker’s hand and tossed it back into the dumpster. Cheap shot. The Korean checked his leg where he was hit, but it was in too much pain to stand on right away. Before he could look up, a fist connected with his cheek. Shit! Either that man was wearing brass knuckles or he was wearing jewellery.

“Fuck!” Hwoarang cursed loudly, attempting to climb to his feet only to get kicked in the back. A sharp pain shot up to his shoulders as he nearly fell on his face. Guess he wasn’t the only one who liked to fashion steel-toed boots. One of them picked Hwoarang up by the collar of his denim shirt and another one of them kicked him in the side, launching him back first into the wall. Hwoarang’s head banged against the brick hard, causing black spots to dance in his eyes, adding to the pain in his side where he was kicked. Once again, he fell to his knees, too shocked from the blow to his head to curse.

An attack should have been expected, but Hwoarang figured he’d have been taken by surprise anyway when a bar hit him in the leg. Most street fighters he associated with were too honourable to bring weapons into the mix unless their opponent was aware of it. It was the same idea as ‘honour among thieves’, only sometimes there were poor losers involved.

Hwoarang got to his feet, ignoring the pain. He spun around and lashed out with a combination of simple kicks. It was more then difficult. The agony of his head wound caused a distraction that was next to impossible to ignore. He fell back into another one of the guys as a dizzy spell overwhelmed him. The guy he had attacked was crawling away in his own bloody mess that Hwoarang surprisingly afflicted.

The man he fell back into shoved him into the side of the dumpster and kicked him in the already sore leg. Hwoarang fell to the ground, hitting his head again in the same spot. His motorcycle goggles slipped off his head. A kick in the ribs caused the Korean to jerk away and into another boot. He hissed as he inhaled painfully. This fight wasn’t going to well. They’d all three probably be dead if he had only not turned his back on them. Baek would be devastated that his pupil was so foolish. Never turn your back on your enemy.

Hwoarang lay there, unable to move, somehow distancing himself from his body as the two men kicked. After they were sure he was unconscious, they raided his pockets and stole his wallet. The street light created shadows on their faces, making them look ghastly as they laughed and spit at the unmoving redhead. The injured one of the group punched Hwoarang in the gut, “Nobody gets away with fucking me up. If you’re alive tomorrow, I’m coming back with more friends,” And stepped on the goggles as his two friends helped him stagger away.

After they were gone, the beaten Korean crawled his way into the shadows. He wasn’t positive where the shadows were, but he was positive that if they decided to return, they wouldn’t find him out there. He climbed up on a cardboard box in the corner and watched the distant florescent street. Whatever he was watching for was unknown to him. Whatever it was, hopefully it would come quick and be done with.

Footsteps… Hwoarang listened to the quiet footsteps close in on his shadows. He shifted uncomfortably, his boot dragging a little on the pavement. Damn, too much noise. A cough forced it’s way out of his mouth, and he groaned with the pain it caused in his chest and stomach. A figure appeared around the corner of what he guessed was one of the dumpsters. The figure was practically silhouetted, but Hwoarang didn’t need to see his face. He didn’t even need proper vision. He’d recognise that man anywhere. It was Jin Kazama.

The rich bitch hesitated before asking, “What happened?”

Hwoarang opened his eyes, forcing himself to drift out of the dream. Had that really happened? It seemed too humiliating to be reality, like those dreams where you suddenly realise you’re naked. Only that dream was much worse. Not only had he made a big mistake and paid dearly for it, but also Jin Kazama saved him. Now that was a nightmare.

The Blood Talon raised an arm to rub the sleep out of his eyes only to be met with a rather painful reality check. His whole torso suddenly felt extremely tender, and mistreated. The nightmare was real. It was like something out of a horror movie. “Shit,” He hissed at his body. So where was he? The room lacked too much white to be a hospital, but as Hwoarang looked down he saw that he was all fixed up. It was a rather boring room. It was mostly made up of dark neutral colours, but it could have been worse. Wait a minute…

Hwoarang did a double take of his body. He was in sweat pants. Someone else’s sweat pants, and that was it. “Fucker!”

The door opened and a wet-haired Jin walked into the room, wiping his hands on his loose-fitting jeans. He flicked on the light and looked Hwoarang over, “Good afternoon. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” He answered honestly, “You bastard, where’s my clothes, and how’d I get into this shitty pair of sweats? Did you dress me? Do I have to hurt you?” He glared at his rival and continued at the other man’s grin, “What the hell are you grinning at, prick?”

Jin shook his head, still grinning, “I had paramedics come and treat you here. They dressed you. If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t even in the building when they did it.” The Japanese man paused before sitting on a stool in front of Hwoarang, “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but I’m going to ask anyway… Who did this?”

“Damn right I don’t want to talk to you. And for that reason, if I knew who it was, I’d be on their asses the minute I could blink rather then putting up with your sorry ass.”

“There was more then one?”

Hwoarang narrowed his eyes, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You think one fucking lone street punk could take me down? I was the fucking king of the street punks! They knew better then to come after me alone and unarmed. Fuckers took a bar to my leg when I wasn’t looking… You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke on you, huh?”

Jin shook his head in answer, watching his rival carefully. “So some strangers just attacked you for no reason?”

“I didn’t say there was no reason. Pay attention, Kazama,” Hwoarang said, picking at a bandage on his face, “I guess I had cheated them out of their money a few years back, and they know how to hold a grudge.”

A silence passed between them. In the moment of thought, Jin subconsciously eyed Hwoarang’s body with more interest then he would have liked to show. Hwoarang caught the wandering eyes immediately. He opened his mouth to bark some crude obscenities at his rival, but stopped himself as he watched Jin get up and leave the room.

Interest?

After a refreshing walk, Jin returned to his newly rented apartment, half hoping that his guest had left. The hope was extinguished as soon as he opened his door. Unless if some stranger broke into his apt and decided to take a shower, Hwoarang was still there. Jin walked into the kitchen and dropped his keys on the table. He wondered how the Korean could bare the water beating down on his wounds. Perhaps the shower made the man feel better.

Jin eyed the dishwasher, considering turning it on just to spite his rival, but decided against it. Hwoarang probably wouldn’t resist, had the tables been turned, but Jin figured the other man had been through more then enough. He opened the fridge, settling on deciding what to make for Lunch.

The noise from the shower came to an end. Cursing and shuffling followed, continuing for almost a full five minutes before the door finally opened. Hwoarang stepped stiffly out into the kitchen, still limping. He was dressed back in his torn clothing.

“Hungry?” Jin asked, hoping to evade Hwoarang’s temper.

Hwoarang looked up, startled. As soon as the startled expression appeared, it was replaced with hostility. Evasion failed. “What was that shit before you took off like a little girl?” When Jin didn’t answer, Hwoarang shoved him against the counter, “You fucking fag! You were checking me out! If you think that just because you took me here and called a couple doctors in, that you’ll get something out of it, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Jin rolled his eyes and pushed his rival away, carefully avoiding the wounds, “Don’t flatter yourself, Blood Talon. Even if I was gay, which I’m not, I wouldn’t even dream of considering liking you. Maybe if hell freezes over, but even then it’s doubtful.”

A smirk slowly crept upon the Korean’s face. If that guy wasn’t cocky, Jin was Richard Simmons. The strange redhead stepped forward until there was not 6 inches between them. The situation had taken a turn for the worse. Jin wondered how much pain his rival was in, but said nothing. He preferred to wait until he knew what was going on before he could prevent anything.

Hwoarang ran a hand through Jin’s ebony hair, silently daring his rival to react. Jin refused, keeping a calm, disciplined exterior. There was no way he’d give Hwoarang the satisfaction. It didn’t matter. A lack of a reaction only gave Hwoarang the initiative to aim for one, not that he would have left it alone if he had gotten one. Hwoarang moved even closer to his rival. “So tense,” He breathed, as his hand slipped to the back of Jin’s neck, “relax, Kazama.”

 Jin realised how rigid he had become, and worked to ease his muscles slightly. He knew exactly what the other man was trying to do, but he wouldn’t give in. “Are you hungry or not?”

“Extremely,” Hwoarang hissed before startling Jin was a soft, deep kiss. He pressed his body up against the perplexed Jin’s, but the young Japanese man still refused to offer more of a reaction then shock and confusion. Hwoarang’s hand traveled down the other man’s back to rest teasingly on his firm jean-clad ass.

Jin squirmed and broke from the kiss, deciding his pride was going to be crushed one way or another. “Stop it, Hwoarang.”

The response was even more unexpected then the situation itself. The arrogant redhead looked directly into Jin’s eyes and said, “I’m not finished, yet.”

Soft Korean lips resumed the inept kiss. Jin cursed himself silently for allowing it to continue, but even as he had such thoughts, he made no further move to end it. He could feel Hwoarang grin against his disbelieving lips. Whatever it was that the Korean was waiting for was beyond the Japanese. It made him curious, giving him more of a reason not to end it.

Hwoarang’s hips slowly began to grind up against Jin’s. A bad sign to the virgin man. Jin could already feel his arousal take a more solid form. He wasn’t the only one to notice. Hwoarang pulled back, taking one long look at Jin before turning away and heading into the other room, “Looks like hell just froze over, sweetheart.”

After a moment or two of shock and embarrassment, Jin realized he almost missed an important factor of the situation. He hadn’t been the only hard man in the room.

It was a quarter to 5 pm. He had been awake a little more then three hours, but it was time to leave that bland apartment suite, and find his way back to his hotel. Hwoarang doubted he’d be staying at the hotel, but he needed his things. It would take one hell of a lot to make him admit it, but he was afraid that those guys would come back for him with friends before he was well enough to face them. Of course, he wouldn’t mind staying with Jin. It seemed so safe there. But that was one more thing he wouldn’t be admitting any time soon.

The bathroom mirror reflected an all-too-real nightmare. The torment from his exterior and interior wounds was intolerable and difficult to mask. It was bad enough that his rival had seen him in such a vulnerable beaten state. The time to prove he was far from vulnerable was long past due, especially since his little game had backfired. Hopefully Jin didn’t notice the error. Such a foolish mistake by a foolish man.

Hwoarang shook his head. He was on a foolish roll. First that mistake with those three men, and then the mistake in the kitchen, both rather humbling. Both instances were huge mistakes in his two areas of expertise. Maybe he was cursed, or maybe they happened for a reason. Where would this path of misfortunes lead him next?

A knock on the bathroom door, perhaps? “What do you want?” Hwoarang snapped.

“Uh… Are you fully-clothed?”

Hwoarang leaned against the sink and crossed his arms, trying to get into a position that made it easy to mask the pain. “Yes,” He replied, “Unless you’re planning on coming in, in which case I will be forced to reconsider my answer.”

The hidden Jin paused, “I just,” he stopped for a moment, “I just wanted to grab my toothbrush.”

“I swear you are the worst fucking liar I have ever met,” Hwoarang sighed, “Get your damn ass in here and tell me what you really want.”

The door opened and in stepped Jin. Hwoarang was rather shocked to see Jin so calm after what had happened, but did not show it in any way. Despite the obvious tension in the small room, Jin looked his rival directly in the eye as he spoke, “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

Jin considered that, giving Hwoarang the impression that there was no plan. Even better. It would be easier to hide his weaknesses if Jin’s were even weaker. After a moment’s hesitation, Jin answered, “It seems to me that you are preparing to leave. Would you like me to drive you somewhere? We’re a ways away from downtown so it would only be a pain to use the public transportation.”

Good answer. Hwoarang figured it was time to play a new game. One he had played with plenty of women in the past. “Honestly?” He asked quietly as he shifted stiffly. Jin didn’t respond, so Hwoarang filled the silence, “Look, I know this is really weird, but… Man, I’m … Well they said that if I lived, they’d be coming back for me. All they have to do is ask around a bit and they’ll eventually close in on my hotel room, so could you bring me to… I don’t know… Another hotel. Somewhere away from the tournaments?”

“Sure.” Jin shrugged and started out the door.

Damn. He denied the effort. Obviously doesn’t buy it. That Kazama was one tough cookie. It didn’t matter; he had dealt with ladies twice as resistant, and won. Hwoarang followed Jin out into the kitchen. Acting wasn’t a necessity in his current shape. All that was needed was a simple random object or flaw in the hard wood floor. Once in the hallway, Hwoarang tripped on the doormat, falling hard on his bad knee. “Fuck!” He managed to cough out through the overwhelming pain.

Jin was at his side quicker then he had expected, and soon he was being helped back into the apartment suite and placed on one of the kitchen chairs. Hwoarang found himself wondering when he had decided to play these games on his rival, or even why. It was too late to turn back. Nothing would anger him more then this pain being for absolutely nothing. He owed it to himself to continue.

“Alright,” Jin sighed as he pulled an icepack from the freezer, “You can stay until you’re fit to leave. Just know that I am not your servant. You cannot boss me around. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

Something was eating at the young Japanese. Hwoarang took the icepack gratefully and placed it on his knee. As if it wasn’t swollen enough already, he just had to decide to use his knee as plan B. Of course he hardly wanted to fall on his head again. Sometimes he amazed himself at the things he would do for a little fun.

Jin shook his head as he grabbed a cucumber out of the fridge and began to chop it up, “I’ll go get your stuff from the hotel later tonight. For now, you should get some rest. There’s a TV in my room that you can watch if you wish.”

“This place has another room?”

“Yes. You have to go through the living room to get to it.”

Hwoarang raised a brow, “Why can’t I just kick back in the living room? You want me in your bed or something?”

Jin rolled his eyes, “No, genius,” he nodded toward the sliding door to the living room, “I haven’t unpacked that room yet.” He chopped a couple more times before turning to his injured rival, “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Blood Talon, but it seems to me that you’re going far out of your way to make me squirm in my own home,” Jin explained, wearily.

Hwoarang brought forth all the sincerity that he could muster, “You’re wrong.”

Those words seemed to anger Jin even more. “You see that’s another thing. Everything you have said since I offered to drive you has sounded so rehearsed! What on earth would bring you to such measures just to bother me? Can you not wait until the tournament? No more lies, Hwoarang.”

Nothing got by this guy. The Korean sighed and moved the icepack around, “In all honesty, I’m not doing this to make you squirm, although it is pretty amusing when it happens.” Jin remained silent, waiting for Hwoarang to elaborate. He did so, angry at himself for being caught so easy and forced back into his honest vulnerability, “I’m partly inconveniencing you because the thought of those guys coming back for me before I can properly defend myself scares the shit out of me. You happy?”

“No. You said partly, which means there is another part.”

Hwoarang smiled bitterly, “Well, the other reason why I’m fucking with you is because, even though I hate your guts, you’re still a fucking hot son of a bitch.”

Finally a reaction from mister calm! Jin blushed and quickly turned away. He resumed his previous work on slaughtering the cucumber, his back to his rival, “Go rest.”

Just what he wanted. It was a long process, but things were beginning to look up. “Go rest? You got your answers, Kazama, and now that you have them, you haven’t a fucking clue what to do with them! Do you know what I would do if I were in your shoes?” He answered his own question without giving Jin the chance, “I’d take a minute to ask myself what it was that I really wanted, and then I’d take it. But I know you won’t do that. You’ll think about it and end up denying your true feelings, even though we both already know what you really want.”

Jin started out of the room, but seemed to reconsider his move. He turned to Hwoarang, “If you want a confession out of me, I do not respond well to bullying.”

Hwoarang tossed the icepack on the table and got to his feet, once again ignoring the pain. He walked up to the awaiting Japanese, limping the whole way, and reintroduced his experienced kiss, only with a touch more hunger. The two boys found there way into the spare bedroom. Jin removed Hwoarang’s denim shirt easily, and spared his companion the trouble by removing his own sweater. The Korean’s eyes devoured his body, leaving no room for doubt as to where it was headed.

A few sloppy kisses were exchanged before Jin was pushed back first onto the bed. Hwoarang crawled on top of his rival and played his lips along the smooth flesh of his companion’s neck. He trailed a path down to Jin’s heaving chest with his tongue, sending chills down the Japanese spine. Their shared libido enhanced the hunger in each move. Hwoarang nipped playfully at the flesh, catching his rival’s eye as he reached for the zipper of Jin’s jeans.

A nervous hand grabbed Hwoarang by the wrist, stopping him from going further. Jin shook his head and explained, “You’re in no shape to be doing this.”

“If anything,” Hwoarang replied, “This will make me feel better.”

Jin looked away, “I…” He frowned, “I’ve never done this before.”

Hwoarang laughed, stopping immediately because of the pain laughing caused, “Well, my dear, that is the surprise of the century.” He grinned at Jin’s insulted glare, “Relax. I know what I’m doing.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jin sighed, allowing his rival to move him up more so that there were no feet dangling over the edge.

Hwoarang slithered down a bit, straddling Jin’s legs. The jeans came undone with ease, and slipped smoothly off the well-toned legs. The boys exchanged glances before Hwoarang proceeded to tugging off Jin’s Boxer-briefs. The sight alone was enough to drive a Bi man wild. The self-conscious devil lay there, exposed, attempting to read his companion’s face for clues as to any disappointment. Blood Talon flushed, trying to clear his mind of the licentious thoughts.

Enough was enough. They had been hesitant since they began, and if it kept going, they wouldn’t get anywhere. Hwoarang playfully flicked his tongue along Jin’s tip, causing the Japanese to suck in a shaky breath through his teeth. The Korean flashed a dangerously heart stopping smile at his prey before closing his lush lips over Jin’s length. It was difficult to maintain self-control. Jin quietly cursed in a moan, drawing his eyes closed as the Korean took as much in as he could without gagging.

Jin’s hips began to move in a subtle thrust. With his hips, his legs followed, rubbing against Hwoarang’s tightening pants. Jin ran his hand through his rival’s soft red hair. Hwoarang could feel the seduced Jin relax a little and took that as a good sign. He sucked harder, making Jin breathe even deeper. “Shiiiit,” Jin moaned quietly, trying to control himself.

“Fuck it,” Hwoarang sat up and tugged his own pants off. They were getting too tight to bear. He snapped the elastic of his boxers and looked back to see Jin staring at him with a quirked brow. “What?” Hwoarang asked, “Sad I stopped?”

Just the way Jin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still half-slit from the pleasure, was enchanting, “Yeah,” He whispered, “Take that off.”

“Excuse me?”

Jin sat up and licked Hwoarang’s shocked lips. It was answer enough, but there was no need to comply. The young Japanese man carried out his own request by removing his companion’s boxers. They caught each other’s eye once more before engaging in another intense kiss. As they did so, their hips grinded, their lengths riding up against each other. Hwoarang grabbed blindly at his rival’s shaft, meeting their thrusts with that of his hand. He doubted Jin had any lubricants so he’d have to make do.

Hwoarang broke from the kiss, scaling down Jin’s body to the erect manhood. Once again, he took the length in his mouth and began to suck. How could one simple movement accomplish so much? Hwoarang took his own shaft in his hand as he created a rhythm with his rival’s wanting thrusts. The rhythm gradually picked up tempo, and in moments, Jin’s seed burst into Hwoarang’s mouth.

The Korean swallowed and moved up to lay beside Jin. It was too awkward to just sit there and get himself off, but Jin wasn’t like the women Hwoarang was used to where he could just stick it in and be done with it. No. Jin wasn’t ready for that.

Jin stayed unmoving for a few seconds, panting through the aftershock. Once he pulled himself together, he crawled down Hwoarang’s body, trailing kisses along the way. There was no way he’d leave his companion there, unfulfilled. It was time to return the favour. Jin’s tongue danced teasingly along the Korean’s tip, and along the shaft. Hwoarang moaned and gripped the bed sheets; still unable to Believe that Jin was actually doing it. It was too weird, but too good.

The Japanese man wrapped his lips around Hwoarang’s length, and slowly eased it deeper into his mouth, nearly getting it to the hilt. His gentle fingers massaged the surrounding sensitive flesh as he sucked. It was strange. Already Hwoarang found Jin to be better then most of the sluts he had been with, and this guy was a virgin! Hwoarang bit his lip, trying to keep from moaning Jin’s name. “Jiiiinnn,” oops. It slipped.

Jin didn’t stop. The only sign saying he noticed was the tightening of his mouth around the Korean’s shaft. Once more Hwoarang moaned the named before his essence spilled into the awaiting mouth. Jin almost gagged, but somehow managed to swallow.

The two boys looked at each other for a minute or so. Once Hwoarang was able to move, he got to his feet, grabbing his clothes off the floor, and headed out the door, “A bargain is something you don't need at a price you can't resist. I’m going to take a shower. Later Kazama,” Even as the words were coming out, he was regretting them.

Hwoarang could feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in his back as he left the room. He was almost positive he wouldn’t be allowed to stay after that one. The things he would do for pride…

Warm morning light washed in over the sleeping Blood Talon, bringing him to a pleasant wake. The wounds were still very sore, but they were tolerable. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stepped down on a piece of paper. A note? Hwoarang picked it up and opened it, squinting to focus his sleepy vision.

Dear Hwoarang

Signed, Jin Kazama.

Personal business? Won’t be back for a while? Hwoarang frowned, wondering why he hadn’t been asked to leave yet. Maybe Jin was hoping the previous night would be repeated. Or maybe he was just being polite.

Hwoarang found his bag, and quickly dressed into some fresh clothes. How Jin got into his hotel room was beyond him, but it didn’t matter. As long as he had some fresh clothes, he was content. Hwoarang took another shower, ate a bit of fruit, and settled down in Jin’s room to watch some TV. It was difficult to keep up with what was going on in the shows when his mind was elsewhere.

It was nearly 4 pm when Hwoarang finally switched the TV off, accepting that it was hopeless. There was no way he was going to get his rival off his mind if all he did was deny that he actually liked the man. Was there anything besides confronting the way he felt that would clear his tainted mind? Probably not. The world wasn’t known to be all that simple.

He strode up to the telephone, yanking the number off the fridge on his way. He was clueless as to what he would say when Jin answered. No words had been exchanged since their little incident, for if there had been, it would have been extremely awkward. Neither of them wanted that, although it was possible that Jin would enjoy watching Hwoarang squirm.

He dialled the number carefully. His fingers were shaking. Why was he so nervous? It was just a stupid call to a stupid man. Hwoarang hopped up on the counter as he listened to it ring. Once… Twice… Thrice… Four times… five… It was a damn cell phone! Why wasn’t he answering? Hwoarang cursed loudly into the phone as he kicked the air. He sighed and cradled the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he lit a cigarette.

The sound of ringing came from the hallway. What the… Hwoarang hung up and the ringing outside stopped. Footsteps. The door opened and Jin stepped inside, quirking a brow at his nervous rival. Jin leaned against the doorframe, his peasant top draping perfectly off his body and tucked into his lace-up jeans. A strangely enchanting smirk crept upon his lips.

Hwoarang had to work very hard to keep himself from leaping on the other man and taking him right there. “You look good enough to eat,” Hwoarang said, his mouth still hanging open.

Jin’s smirk disappeared and was replaced by a cynical glare. He walked across the room, letting the door lowly swing closed, and he opened the white blinds covering the window. Well now Hwoarang knew the other man was still sore about the previous night. Who could blame him? Hwoarang wanted to make it up to him, but there was too much pride at stake. Jin probably wouldn’t accept him again anyway.

“Kazama,” The Korean frowned, “Uh… You’re killing me here!”

“That’s not my problem,” He said, walking into the bathroom, “I’m taking a bath. Go ahead and order some food. There’s some yen in a small jar under the sink, in case I don’t get out in time. Phone book is in the cupboard beside the phone.”

Hwoarang glanced at the phone, and asked in a challenging voice, “What do you want to eat?”

Jin shot his rival a silencing look, “Surprise me,” and continued into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Surprise you?” Hwoarang sighed, “I can do that.”

TBC....

A/N: Well this is the closest I’ve come to an actual love scene. I hope it wasn’t too awkward. I tried. Tell me what you think. If you don’t think I should try it again, tell me. If it’s that bad I need to know, lol so I don’t go farther next time, which I will if nobody warns me!

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