Disclaimer: Namco owns them, not me. -sniff- And
Hwoarang said I was
the only one...
A/N: 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. ^-^
-^-Taste-^-
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."