Author's Notes: I'm a firm believer that if two people fight for a long time it will lead to sex. I haven't proved it true, but am working on it. Feedback is welcomed, and saved onto my hard-drive.
In the Aftermath
His knuckles hit the side of my face, the impact feels like an anvil smashing against my temple. I feel myself stumble backward, no, he won't beat me, he can't...I won't let him.
I won't admit defeat.
That's how it works, he wins, I win, our bodies bruise and bleed and no one wins until we aren't standing anymore, until one or the other is in need of medical support...and sometimes both. Sometimes I lay against the cold floor of our own fighting arena and just breathe, my lungs burning and face bruising, my bones broken and arrogance shattered, vision red.
And that's where battles of strength and arrogance are won...in the aftermath.
One of his fists smash against my face, another instantly moving to my stomach, a kick taking my legs out from underneath of me, the cement shaking my brain as my head cracks against it. The elastic holding my goggles in place snaps and they go spiralling across the floor, the glass breaking. I flip onto my feet and charge him, fire kicks stealing his breath away. His eyes ignight into a burning red...I forgot what happens when he gets pissed off.
I know how this works, if I can't knock him out with a series of critical attacks then I'm fucked when the devil-gene kicks in...and here it is.
"Kazama, calm down dude."
It's too late though, the black lines are appearing across his tanned skin and he's got that smirk that clearly says I'm in trouble. His kicks are like lightning, slashing my calves out and forcing me down to the ground again. Lying on my back looking up at the devil himself, his knees on either side of mine as he straddles my legs, his fist clenches and his knuckles dive towards my face before suddenly stopping directly in front of my eyes.
His teeth are grinding against each other and his eyes closed tight, blood tears falling down his face. One of his hands tangle in my short red-brown hair and the other is clenched around the collar of my shirt. He's shaking...
"Fuck...Hwo..."
Jin's voice is deep, rough lips moving against my neck as he speaks in silent turmoil, the hand untangling itself from my hair and sliding around to the back of my neck. His lips open and his tongue flicks across my skin, sending shivers rushing down my back...
"Hwoarang..."
He whispers my name and lifts me by my shirt up to him, sharp teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of my neck, a short cry escapes my lips...and the burning starts as his hips move against mine in taunting patterns, my back arches into his touch.
The world spins and my head becomes light from loss of blood, his lips are off of my neck and have found a new target...the copper taste of my own blood fills my mouth as his tongue swipes across mine. We're sweating and grinding, the once cold floor heating up with our bodies sliding against it,
"Jin..."
I hear myself groan into his open mouth, and feel him smirk against my swollen lips, his hand pushing itself under the stretch rim of the pants I'm wearing...fingers tracing the outline of my already throbbing hard-on. His talented tongue and hand distracting me while our clothes are removed, my back is arched, our bare, bruised, cut skin sliding against each other, friction building...
He methodically places one of my legs over his shoulder and looks down at me, blood still painting his lips, still smirking, his eyes are flashing between red and chestnut...I wonder if he's fighting the devil- gene...his tongue wets his lower lip and the tattoo's fade as he thrusts into me...like everytime...
I'm used to it; this is how it always happens in the aftermath...