Author's Notes: Well I haven’t been planning this fic from the beginning. I’m just writing as the inspiration comes, so please, don’t mind me.
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 2 - Graveyard Shift
Chinese food. The expensive stuff. It wasn’t his style, but he figured his soaking rival would like it. The delivery wouldn’t arrive for at least 10 minutes, according to the man on the phone. Apparently it was a local place. That gave the Korean time to prepare himself. Was it still a game? Yes, but even a game has some serious elements. Sometimes the players forget it’s a game.
Hwoarang dug through his bag, figuring his current attire wasn’t complimenting enough. He glanced in the mirror and studied himself. It was a good hair day. Leather would work. Did Jin like leather? Well there was only one way to find out. Hwoarang stripped down and pulled out his leather sleeve-less driver shirt. He glanced in the mirror again, making sure it looked right. Yes. Perfect. Now jeans or leather pants? Well Jin was wearing jeans, and he hardly wanted to mimic that man in any way. ‘Tough guy’ leather jean it was! He pulled the pants up and took his hair products out of the bag. Damn. He almost forgot. The wound on his head. Water alone would have to do. Hwoarang glared into the mirror and tore the bandage off his cheek. The raw scabs were slightly sexier then the bandage.
The other preparations took a little less fuss. Hwoarang used his own emergency yen to pay for the food once it arrived. He contemplated lighting candles, but in the end, decided it would be a little too obvious, and he didn’t want that. Was it so wrong that he wanted to see his rival beg?
It was easier to get a girl’s forgiveness. Well, the girls who usually went after the Blood Talon. All it took was flowers and a promise that he would change his ways. Of course, he never did change, and he usually stole the flowers. If it was the thought that counted, Hwoarang should have been stoned to death by then. But it wasn’t the thought that counted. Half of those girls were still convinced that he was going to go back to them. The other half were either caught up in another ‘bad boy’s’ game, or plotting their ex-lover’s downfall.
Jin was different. Not just because he was a man, in fact that was not it at all. Men were just as simple as the women, if not simpler. If Jin was any of the men Hwoarang was used to, the Korean would be out on the street after pulling that stunt, and all it would take to get back in would be an apology. On certain occasions he’d have to promise that he’d change. But Jin didn’t throw him out, and Hwoarang figured it would take more then an apology.
The war was on to see who would break down first.
A dripping wet Jin stepped out of the bathroom topless. His lace-up jeans hung dangerously low on his hips. Hwoarang tried not to stare. Obviously the ebony haired man knew exactly what the war was about. Jin towel dried his hair while walking into the living room, stealing a brief glance at his rival’s leather clad body. At least he noticed.
“Food’s here,” Hwoarang said, watching the other man walk into the other bedroom, annoyed at the fact that there was a whole room between them, “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Jin turned around and looked at Hwoarang, giving the Korean one last long glimpse of the powerful body, “I’ll be right out,” and shut the door.
Hwoarang hopped up on the counter, sitting himself right next to the bags of disposable dishes of steaming food that he had laid out minutes ago. He swung his good leg, letting his heel hit the cupboards below him. The loud noise he was making was intended. Being a good little quiet boy wasn’t going to get him any attention, and Jin would probably see right through the act. It was hard trying to win a war when the opposing team could pick out lies like it was nothing.
After a minute or so, Jin emerged wearing a plain black long-sleeved shirt. From one extreme to the other. Hwoarang banged his heel harder, drawing a disapproving glance from the other man. No words were exchanged as Jin stood inches away from his rival to fill his plate. Hwoarang watched, carefully trying to spot any sign of weakness. It was difficult when every time he looked at Jin, all he could see was that image of his rival standing in the bedroom doorway with the jeans barely clinging to his hips.
Hwoarang pulled a dish out of the cupboard beside his head after Jin sat down at the table. He sighed and started preparing his food. At that rate, he wouldn’t get his way for months.
The meal ended in silence as it had begun. The three hours that followed went likewise. Hwoarang sat at the table smoking and reading the paper as his rival unpacked the living room. If it had been another day, Hwoarang might have offered to help. He was bored and trying to get his mind of his rival’s body, but it wasn’t another day. The war was still on and helping would only be weird.
Finally Jin stepped out of the living room and slid the door shut behind him. A Bronc cord jacket covered his upper torso, bringing a question to the Korean’s face. “Where are you going?”
Jin walked to the door, grabbing his keys off the table, “For a walk. Do you mind?”
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Goodbye, Hwoarang,” Jin sighed, opening the door.
Hwoarang jumped up, wincing at his bad leg, and grabbed the door before Jin could close it. He frowned, already embarrassed by the question that hadn’t even been asked yet, “Uh… Can I come?”
The Japanese peered through his ebony locks and quirked a brow, “In your condition, you…”
“Fuck my condition. I asked you a question.”
Jin shrugged and looked down the hall before stepping back into his apartment, “Wear something warmer. It’s chilly tonight.”
Hwoarang quickly complied, rushing into the spare room and rummaging through his bag for a jacket. He was sure he had at least one. Yes. His military Jacket. Oh well, it would be warm and that was what mattered. He took something else out of his bag and dropped it into his pocket, then slipped the jacket on and left the apartment with his rival.
They walked in silence for about a half an hour before Jin finally lead the way into a cemetery. Hwoarang stopped at the gate and gave his rival a strange look. “Do you hang out in graveyards often, or are you just being a freak for tonight?”
Jin, who was already a couple rows down, turned to face the crimson haired man, “In some cases, the dead are better company then the living.” He let the statement hang in the air as he turned back around and continue his way through the rows of tombstones. After a moment, he spoke again, “Actually I’m just taking a shortcut through the cemetery.”
Hwoarang jogged, limping as he did so, to catch up with Jin. At that point, the desire was hard to ignore. The war had to end. Hwoarang decided that his rival wasn’t about to give in, so he’d give up the war in order to win the battle for what he originally wanted in the first place. “Kazama! Come one man! Can we just take a fucking break? My leg’s killing me!”
The grin, though out of sight, was obvious in Jin’s voice, “It was your idea to come.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Hwoarang muttered. When Jin shrugged and continued walking, The Korean added, “Please.”
Jin turned and smiled. He found a spot by a statue and sat on the grass. Hwoarang sat gratefully on the ledge of the statue, his mind reeling desperately for a plan. Finally he said to Jin, “I… I’m sorry.” Only silence responded, so Hwoarang continued, “Um… I’ll try to…”
“Change?”
“Yeah.”
Jin laughed, “Bullshit.”
Hwoarang frowned, getting angry, “Well if you know when I’m bullshitting, then how come you’re so bent up on what I said last night?”
More laughing. That guy had a lot of nerve. Jin shook his head, grinning, “I’m not the one bent up on what you said. If I took that seriously, I would have dumped you in a cab the minute you got out of that shower. I know you better then that.”
“So why have you been playing fucking hard to get?”
The grin disappeared, “I’m not the one playing,” Jin said, shooting an angry glance at Hwoarang, “I’m not dumb enough to believe that you want me. My being hard to get is the only reason your after me. Or you’re just desperate.”
“Tha-That’s not true,” Hwoarang stuttered.
“Are you gay?”
“… No.”
Jin smiled bitterly, “There you go.”
Hwoarang grinned and slid down to the grass beside Jin, “I’m not one to pick sides. There’s a bigger selection of clubs if you’re in between, not to mention the variety of people you have to choose from. Are you gay, Kazama?”
A pause and a nervous glance around answered the question without words. The cool breeze whistled through the cherry blossoms. Both of the men shivered and looked at each other. Jin licked his lip nervously and got to his feet. It was rather amusing to watch, but Hwoarang almost felt bad for the guy. Pride was an easy thing to crush, if you were with the right person. “It doesn’t matter what I am,” Jin said at last, turning away, “We’re enemies, Hwoarang. That was your call.”
The statement didn’t phase the Blood Talon in the least. He stood and moved daringly close to his rival’s back, and whispered into Jin’s ear, “You act as though I only get one call,” He gingerly brushed his lips against the sensitive flesh behind the ear, “We’re not in prison, Kazama, though you’re making me wish we were.”
The young Japanese man shivered, but didn’t move. He was like a deer caught in headlights. A scared, helpless, beautiful deer. But Hwoarang had no intention of creating a hit-and-run situation. There would be no running involved.
Hwoarang slid his arms around Jin’s waist, slipping his hands under the Jacket and shirt. He had been wanting to feel his rival’s body all evening. It was a thrill to feel the heaving chest and the firm abs, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted his rival.
Jin inhaled deeply and turned around to face the redhead. Maybe he wasn’t so complicated after all. Just strategic. Jin opened his mouth to say something but was immediately silenced by Hwoarang’s lips on his own. Their kiss became deeper and more intense by the second as it slowly became mutual. Soon, neither of them felt the cool of the night any longer. Only the feeling of need remained.
Hwoarang reached down and tugged at the string of his companion’s jeans. Jin broke away from the kiss and looked at the Korean in shock, “Not here. Have respect for the dead.”
“Oh they won’t mind,” Hwoarang smiled and pushed Jin down, stomach first onto the grass in front of a tombstone. “I’m sure,” he squinted at the tombstone, “Myumi will enjoy it as much as we do.”
“That’s disgusting.”
The Korean sat in the grass beside his rival. A kiss behind the ear and Jin shivered again. It was disgusting on some levels, but that was no concern. Hwoarang smirked, “Relax. It’s not like she can tell on us.”
Hwoarang tugged Jin’s jeans of, and looked over the pale backside before him, “Going commando, huh? Oh, fuck, Kazama, I’m going to get a hard on just looking at you.” Jin tried to turn and sit up, but the Korean prevented him from doing so, “Stay still. There will be no sucking this time, unless you really want to.”
“Why are you so crude?”
“Because you like me that way.”
Jin shivered, finally noticing the cold, “No I don’t. Put my pants back on. It’s cold.”
“Uh… Let me think about that one,” Hwoarang teased, “Hmm… Nope. I don’t think that’s a realistic request at this… point.”
The young Japanese man frowned into the grass. Hwoarang licked his fingers and ran them over Jin’s tight entrance, drawing a gasp from the other man. He wanted so badly to hear his rival scream his name in bountiful pleasure, but he didn’t want to hurt him… not too badly. A little pain was inevitable, and if it didn’t exist, neither would a portion of the pleasure.
Hwoarang’s wet finger slowly delved into his companion. He kissed Jin’s neck in order to distract the man from the shock of his body being invaded. The beautiful body began to tremble, either because of the cold or the desire. Either way, a little more would cure that. Hwoarang decided to slip another finger in, getting more of a reaction. He eased his fingers in and out as Jin’s hips moved to meet his thrusts.
Jin groaned and grabbed at the grass, overwhelmed by his partner’s actions. His breathing became shallow and shaky. “More,” He hissed.
Just witnessing Jin’s pleasure aroused Hwoarang. He removed his fingers and wriggled out of his leather pants. He pulled a tube out of his pocket. It uncapped with a pop and the Korean poured a bit into his hand, proceeding to rub the lubricant over his length. It was cold, and enhanced by the cool breeze. Hwoarang hissed in through his teeth, wanting to get inside his partner before the weather started to shrink his manhood.
Right before Jin could ask what was going on, Hwoarang pushed his tip against his rival’s entrance, and slowly inserted it, trying to draw out the pain and pleasure. Jin cried out and arched his back, gasping to breathe through the intense mixture of sensations.
Hwoarang stopped, mid thrust, “Do you want me to stop?”
Jin moaned in an attempt to find words. After a couple breaths he found them, “Fuck, no. Don’t stop.”
Hwoarang grinned and pushed himself deeper into the trembling man. Jin tightened around him, causing the Korean to gasp and close his eyes. He thrusted blindly, trying to be gentle despite his throbbing needy manhood. With each thrust, they began to produce more sweat. It became hotter then such weather would normally allow. Jin even seemed to forget where they were.
“Harder,” Jin panted.
A reasonable request. Hwoarang obeyed, thrusting harder. Panting harder. He reached under his lover’s body and took Jin’s shaft into his hand. He had to touch something. He breathed into Jin’s neck as he felt himself assail his companion’s interior.
Jin bucked back against Hwoarang, “Harder,” he moaned. When he got what he wanted he cried out on impact, “Hwoa…” and thrusted himself into his rival’s hand.
Hwoarang kissed and bit feverishly at Jin’s shoulder and neck. His free hand roamed the firm body beneath him. Finally Jin’s seed spilled out into the cool grass, but even through the Japanese man’s convulsions, Hwoarang still didn’t slow. He thrusted slightly harder, having trouble breathing through the shockingly pleasurable tightening of his companion’s body. Jin cried his rival’s name once more in a cracked voice. Hwoarang jerked once more into Jin’s body before exploding his seed deep into the Japanese.
It was over. Hwoarang crawled off the panting Jin, and slowly slid his pants back on. He lazily found his tube of lubricant in the grass and dropped it back into his pocket before finding his cigarettes in the pocket of his driver shirt.
After a few moments Jin came up beside him, pulling his own pants on, breath still shallow. He looked at Hwoarang with unmasked interest, “You planning on leaving me with some crappy one-liner again, or will you be kind enough to spare me?”
Hwoarang glanced at his rival as he lit a cigarette, “What are you, some kind of masochist? I thought you were a fucking virgin. Normal virgins don’t ask for that much.”
“I just know what I like is all.”
The Korean nodded, “Whatever.”
Jin reached over and touched his companion’s shirt, “Are you feeling okay?” He slipped his hand under the shirt and rubbed his rival’s abs, “Did it hurt too much? Can you walk back?”
Hwoarang rolled his eyes, “Cut it out, Kazama. I didn’t work so hard for a man so I could fuck an exceptionally big chick.”
The Japanese man laughed and took his hand back, “Work so hard? I hardly think prettying yourself up is working hard. Do you honestly think that shitty leather outfit was what won me over? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Hey,” Hwoarang frowned, “This shitty leather outfit cost me a fortune!”
“Did it?” Jin inquired.
The Korean paused, “Well, not really,” he grinned, “but it would have if I got it the legal way.” The redhead looked his rival over and added, “You know, you’d probably look delicious in leather. But you’d look edible in almost anything.”
Jin quirked a brow, “What is it about being draped in dead animals that turns you people on?”
Everything was trashed. The boys returned to the apartment to find the door swinging open. The floor was barely visible. Broken dishes, wine bottles, broken chairs, water, and even food littered the floor. Jin searched his rooms, trying to find anything missing, but it was difficult to tell through the mess. It didn’t matter. Hwoarang knew who did it. It was obvious when he found his emergency cash missing and his wallet sitting on his bag. Of course the wallet was empty, but that was unimportant.
Another war had started. The new war was less fair with one side having the advantage in more then one area. Hwoarang was still injured, and outnumbered. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t ask Jin to get involved, and he didn’t want Jin to get involved. It was something he wanted to be able to do on his own, but he knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t be fit to fight numerous people for a while. Another disadvantage was the lack of knowledge. He had no idea who or where these people were. How did they find where he was staying?
Hwoarang sat on his bed, staring at the wallet in his hands. If only he hadn’t turned his back on them, it would be all over. A knock came at his door. Who could it be? Jin. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was someone else? Someone he should fear? Hwoarang didn’t answer. Maybe if there was no noise, whoever it was would leave.
The door opened and Jin peaked in, “Are you alright?”
“Fuck off.”
Jin walked in and looked his rival over. His face was clouded with worry. With concern for the Blood Talon. How many times had Hwoarang seen that expression on another’s face? He could tally them on a single hand. The only other person who had looked at him like that had been Baek. Hwoarang lowered his head, letting his hair shield his face. He could feel a tear slide down his cheek, but didn’t wipe it away in fear that Jin would think he was crying. His rival had already seen him in vulnerable positions; there was no need to add to it.
“Are you hungry?”
“Fuck off.”
The Japanese man sat down on the bed beside the Korean. “Hwoarang… talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
Hwoarang stood and limped toward the bathroom, “I don’t want your fucking help, Kazama.”
The morning came before Jin even knew it. He had fallen asleep by accident, waiting for his rival to come around. Only this morning was worse then the others. It lacked something. The minute Jin woke up; he could sense something was wrong.
He sat up in bed, listening to the sounds of the building. Listening carefully. The water pipes creaked and groaned. Someone in the loft above him was taking a shower. That was it. Normally he would have guessed Hwoarang was still asleep, but it was different. It wasn’t just the lack of noise that bothered him. It was the feeling. The apartment felt empty.
Jin ran across the apartment, stumbling through his sleepy state. It was not necessary, but he had to confirm his feeling. Yes. The room was empty. Hwoarang’s bag was gone. Where would he go? Where could he go? The guy was broke and in terrible shape. Jin immediately ran for his laptop. It probably would have helped if he knew more about his rival, but all he knew was what he was told. Clubs.
How could someone hang out in a place like that? Music practically shook the entire street. What kind of place partied so hard in the afternoon? Could they not wait until the sun went down at least? Drunk groups of underage teens stumbled out the door. A couple of them gave Jin an odd look as they watched him enter the building.
Perhaps it was a horrible guess, but at that point, there wasn’t much of a choice. It was the closest place that Hwoarang could have possibly walked to and there was no entry fee during the day. If the redhead wasn’t there, Jin didn’t know what he could do.
Inside it was dark. The club was lit by blue lights other then the bar at the back. Every now and then a strobe light would go off during a heavy guitar solo. A smoke machine sat in the corner, and the people dancing were practically drowning in the artificial element. That couldn’t be healthy. How the hell was he supposed to find anyone in that place? With such bad lighting, everyone looked the same.
Jin walked up to the bar and ordered a Pepsi as he sat on one of the red cushioned stools. When the bartender looked at him oddly, he explained that he was the designated driver. A group of girls sat a few yards away, at the other end of the bar, looking barely of age. They gazed at Jin and giggled and whispered once he noticed. He turned in his seat to scan through the smoke covered people on the dance floor. He doubted Hwoarang would be fit enough to dance, but Hwoarang was a stubborn man.
The girls giggled some more. Jin glanced in their direction, only to be met with a bright smile from one of them, and more giggles from the others. He smiled back, not wanting to be rude. Suddenly, a cold hand touched the back of his neck. Jin turned; ready to jump to his feet and fight, when he stopped. “Hwoarang.”
The grinning Korean nodded at the girls, “Aren’t you going to say hi? I think she likes you.”
“If that’s all I went on, I’d be,” Jin paused, “I’d be you.”
“This your…” Hwoarang sniffed the glass sitting on the counter, “Pepsi? What the hell, man? You don’t come to a Japanese club to drink American soda and sit at the bar ignoring all of the woman staring at you. What, are you too good for this place?”
Jin glanced back at the girl, who was currently being pulled out on the dance floor by her friends. She reminded him of Ling Xiaoyu, but he didn’t care to share that with his rival. Hwoarang’s mood swings were too unpredictable. “Hwoarang, why’d you leave? Couldn’t you have at least warned me first?”
Hwoarang looked away, failing to mask his fear, “I didn’t want you involved.” He glanced at the door, “I have no clue what to do. I can’t even fucking defend myself right now. Do you have any idea how fucking degrading it is to have to run from them?”
“So where are you planning on staying?”
“I don’t care. Wherever.” The Korean buried his face in his arms on the counter, “All I want to do is heal a bit so I can take them.”
Jin frowned, “Why can’t I take them?”
“This isn’t your fucking fight, Kazama,” Hwoarang snapped, “And don’t think that just because we fucked that I’m going to go easy on you at the tournament.”
“Why do you swear so much?”
Hwoarang sat up and smirked, “Why do you only swear when you’re getting laid?”
The young Japanese man’s brow knitted in insult, “I do not swear.”
“Oh yes you do. I may not pay attention in normal circumstances, but I’m all ears during sex. You swear.”
“Still crude as ever, I see.” Jin sighed, hoping to avoid the subject. It was an uncomfortable subject for him. He hadn’t been brought up to think of sex as a hot conversation topic, but it seemed to be one of his rival’s favourites.
Hwoarang studied his rival for a minute, undressing Jin with his eyes. “Let’s go for another walk.”
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