Twisted Affair

"You won't get away with this!"

Kazuya Mishima gazed up from his laptop and quirked an inquisitive brow at the redhead chained to a bar hanging down from the roof. "Oh?" Acting as if he hadn't a clue what was wrong, he asked, "Get away with what? Stealing that necklace? Oh wait, that was you."

"You won't get away with abducting me, dumbass." Hwoarang's arms were sore from being held above his head and he was very troubled by the thought of what was in store for him. It had been only an hour since he was brought there and all his captor had done was chain him up and then fiddled around on that laptop, chuckling every few minutes. "And for anything else you plan to do to Jin."

There was a roll of the eyes and then a bit more typing. The old man's deep voice dropped to a disinterested mumble, "And how do you suppose your knight in shining armor will get you out of this one after I tell him about all the naughty things you've done?"

Hwoarang spat at the insulting assumption. "Fuck Jin. I can get myself out of this!"

The sudden scraping of the chair against the hardwood floor made the Korean jump and fall backwards. The chains yanked hard on his arms as he dangled for the few seconds it took to find his footing again. It was humiliating being bound and vulnerable for someone who wasn't Jin and he didn't want to have to be saved. The damsel in distress syndrome wasn't very becoming.

Polished black shoes walked over to the human marionette. The floor creaked under the man's weight until he stopped a couple of feet away. While he studied his prisoner, a hand dipped into his pocket and came out with a fairly large golden ring. The Korean blinked at it, confused at why it was so big. Could fit a good three fingers in that thing.

"Don't tell me you're proposing?"

"Not quite." Kazuya opened the front of Hwoarang's jacket and gently slid the ring onto his soft member. The devilish man's eyes were alight with amusement as he walked a semi-circle around his prisoner. The rattle of a belt-buckle was heard before the man bothered to speak again. "You young people have no concept of what matters in life. My own son runs around the country looking for jewelry and you run around Asia chasing my son. The two of you are pathetic."

With a cocky grin, the Japanese walked over to stand in front of him. "You'll see soon enough, bitch, that I'm far more worthy of your groveling than my offspring." He laughed, running his finger tauntingly along Hwoarang's jawline. "You know what's wrong with Jin?" He asked curiously, his hand drifting down to run up the Korean's manhood. "His angelic half." Kazuya answered his own question. "Without it, he wouldn't be committing such fatal mistakes... letting me and my father live when he had his chance to kill us? He's an idiot."

"You talk too much, conceited asshole." Hwoarang growled at him, then spat at his face, missing by less than an inch.

Kazuya raised an eyebrow. "Feisty? I thought my son would have finished breaking you by now." He slapped the redhead's face, the blow making his cheek burn.

The chains rattled as Hwoarang instinctively tried to reach where he was hit. When that failed, he just scowled. "Fuck you!" He yelled, starting to wonder whether he could manage a proper kick from the current position.

"Good boy..." The Japanese murmured, sliding a hand into the red hair. "As you know, I prefer when my bitches struggle." He leant in, grabbing Hwoarang's head firmly and then decidedly parting the lips for a brutal kiss.

That was too much. The Korean's lips quirked into an angry sneer. He was not about to submit to that! Withdrawing his own tongue, he slammed his teeth down on the older man's tongue, immediately feeling the taste of blood in his mouth. As Kazuya retracted with a scowl, Hwoarang grinned victoriously.

Kazuya didn't go away, though. "So much fighting spirit..." he said in a mocking tone, then walked around behind him. It was clear from his voice that he was in pain, but apparently it didn't make him think twice about anything.

A belt was slipped over Hwoarang's head and around his neck. He could feel the heavy lustful breathing from behind him but before he could say anything, the belt was yanked tight, cutting off his air passage. His mouth opened, trying - and failing - to get oxygen, and the chains rattled as his hands tried to help. It was no use, he couldn't reach and couldn't get out of it. The man behind him was laughing as if he were just told a light joke and the Mishima's strong arms wrapped so casually around the Korean's waist. He was panicking; the lack of air making him increasingly dizzy, and he knew he was going to black out soon.

Kazuya placed a gentle kiss on the younger man's shoulder. "Oh I'm sorry, is that too tight?" He reached up and loosened it just barely enough for a little air to get in and then he waited quietly for the choking and gasping to die down to a desperate wheeze. "Now your life has meaning. By the time I'm finished here, you won't be doing one thing. Either you won't be permitted to cum, or you won't be permitted to breathe. It's up to me which I decide to let you do. I guess that sort of makes me your God."

The sound of his pants hitting the ground was alarming, but not nearly as much as the pop of a cap opening. Hwoarang could hear Kazuya lubing up and then felt something press against his backside. The mystery of what that was quickly answered itself as it suddenly thrust inside. The Korean opened his mouth to scream, but with the lack of air, all he could get out was a squeak.

"You earned this, bitch." Came a serene murmur.

A series of merciless thrusts followed suit. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't hold anything or make any noises; there was nothing he could do to relieve any of it. The strong hands roughly grasped his hips, forcing his body to move against the rhythm and that only increased the agony. Another form of pain was being added as the blood was building up in his trapped erection. He wasn't turned on at all and didn't understand why he was hard, but the pain was killing him.

It continued a little while longer before the movements strengthened considerably. Hwoarang pulled on the chains with his diminishing energy. His feet had given out, but he couldn't remember when. Everything was spinning into a world of nothing but anguish. Everything was covered in blackness, or maybe that was just his imagination? Just as things were starting to become numb, the world disappeared...

~~~~~

It was a miracle; he could breathe. Was he dead?

The dark Korean eyes fluttered open to find bars. Bars of a cage. Maybe he was in hell? Hwoarang shifted, only to have sharp pain shoot through his pelvis. No, if memory served correct, it was worse than hell; he was the prisoner of a Mishima. He groaned through the pain and pushed himself to sit up. It was a small jail cell in a room of many. All it had in it was a cot, a sink, and a toilet, all three being incredibly filthy. There was a light coming from a door at the end of the room where he saw the Mishima sitting at a desk, typing at a laptop. That must have been where he was when he passed out...

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

The voice was calm, but concerned. As he turned to face it, he saw the blond boxer from the tournament - Steve Fox - locked up in a cell just like his own. The guy was on his stomach on the cot, chin rested on a fist, the other arm draped casually down towards the floor. He gazed up at the redhead's face, giving a half-hearted smirk. "So... what did you do?"

Hwoarang leaned against the bars, letting his hair fall in his face. His neck was hurting, probably bruised from the belt, but it wasn't bad enough to complain about. He'd gone through worse... Maybe. Any recollection was still a bit fuzzy after passing out like that. "I guess I kinda sold my soul to the devil. Why are you in here, blondie?"

Dark eyes studied his face curiously for a bit. Steve shifted and pushed himself up a bit, tilting his head to the side. "Nothing that exciting. I only tried to blow this place up..." He rolled over and put his legs to the floor, starting to move over towards the Korean.

"Isn't that a little too dramatic?" As much as Hwoarang was uneasy about the guy coming closer, he didn't bother moving from his spot against the bars. There was probably no need to be jumpy around that crazy Brit, and moving would require lots of pain. Not worth it. "What were you trying to accomplish by blowing this place up?"

The boxer stopped a feet away from him with a serious expression. "This place makes monsters. The sooner it's off the face of the Earth, the better." He paused, nodding lightly in the direction of the door. "When you look into his eyes, you see pure evil. Know what I mean?"

"Uh huh. Don't really have to look into his eyes to know he's evil incarnate." The redhead sneered at the pain as he shifted slightly. "He's a Mishima, Fox. I think it'll take more than an explosion to do them in. You wouldn't happen to have some pain pills on you... Or maybe an extra pair of pants?" He looked down at his bare legs. Luckily his jacket hadn't been taken away; it could have been rather chilly without it.

That amused the other man considerably. It was good, even if a little strange, to see someone feel humorous in a situation like this. "I'm afraid we didn't bring a suitcase..." After a light chuckle, he seemed to attempt a brave smile. "Don't worry, my mother will be back for me before we know it. Either that, or she'll blow the place up. Time will tell."

With a less-than excited quirk of the brow, Hwoarang replied, "You sure know how to comfort a guy, don't ya?" He took a deep breath and moved himself through the pain to get up shakily to his feet. It was agonizing, but when he moved very slowly, it wasn't too bad. "Maybe we should think about getting out of here ourselves. Is he always in that room over there?"

Steve seemed to think back for a moment, before answering in a low voice, almost a whisper. "He's been there every night, but only for a couple of hours. If you've got a plan, we've got quite a bit of alone time. There are guards, but they don't seem to feel the need to check in here..."

"A plan? I just woke up, it may take awhile to come up with something." He scanned the cell, looking for something - anything - that could provide an answer. Maybe climb the bars? And then what? "Is there anything to pick the locks with?"

Steve's eyes drifted lazily over both cells in a manner that clearly stated that he'd studied his own in great detail already, so the redhead's was more interesting. Eventually, he shrugged with a slight frown. "He even ran off with my belt... we don't have much to work with."

It was a little depressing to think that their best bet was to wait for Steve's mother to blow them up. Hwoarang went back over to his cot and laid down on his stomach to avoid putting any weight on his aching backside. "If we had a dress, we could have sent your pretty face over to seduce one of the guards. What the fuck are we going to do?"

A loud crash was heard from the next room. That didn't sound like something ordinary... The middle-aged man glanced up over his laptop before looking back at the screen. His annoyance was visible, but he didn't seem willing to get up quite yet. "I don't suppose you've got an appointment?" The Mishima resumed typing for a few seconds. "I'll be right with you, young man. I simply need to finish sending off this e-mail."

After a few footsteps, a gloved hand became visible through the door, which promptly grabbed the laptop and flung it into the wall. "Sent." An angry voice snarled viciously, and Hwoarang only needed a split second to recognize it. "You know why I'm here."

"... Wow, the geeks are right. Backing up your files is important." Kazuya stood up, pushing the chair so it rolled back until it bumped into something. "You realise I'm going to have to charge you for the 10 gigs of snuff porn you just destroyed, don't you? ... Oh yes, you must be here for that fat man statue, or have you lost your naughty bitch again? I'm sure I have it around here somewhere..."

Steve groaned with jealousy. "Riiiight... Jin Kazama's bitch? I haven't seen any women around here, but that's one lucky girl..."

Hwoarang could feel his cheeks turning red at that comment. Just great. Hopefully the Brit wouldn't notice. He cleared his throat and got up off the dirty cot to watch the action from a better vantage point. "Whatever. What does it matter, so long as we're lucky enough to be freed too?"

After considering his expression for a bit, the Brit tilted his head with a knowing smirk. "You've got to be kidding me." He chuckled, then moved closer to see as well. "Well, good on you. We're in this together though, right, guv?"

He wished that chatterbox would shut up already, it was hard to hear what was being said in the next room meanwhile! But that issue was soon resolved when he heard Jin raise his voice considerably. "You seem overly caught up on that figurine. Fine! I'll tell you what I know about where the other items are too, but I want my bitch, and I want him now!"

The smirk that crossed Kazuya's face was nothing less than devilish. "I don't care about your little trinkets. The only reason I kept it is because it's important to you... But if it's not what you want, then neither do I." His playful gaze briefly visited the room with the cells and flicked back and forth between Steve and Hwoarang. "I'm terribly sorry for your wasted trip, boy, but I'm not ready to let him go yet. I've just begun to break him in!"

Jin gawked at him in disbelief. It took a good few seconds before his mouth finally closed, eyes narrowing to a furious scowl. "You didn't dare!" He stated insistently, as if he could undo what had happened by way of persistence. "Say it isn't true!"

"You may take some comfort in knowing he didn't enjoy it. Silly bitch can't even take a little strangulation." Kazuya reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a pair of studded silver gloves. As he pulled them on over his hands, he continued chatting casually. "I don't suppose you're up for a glass of tea? It's been so long since we've had the chance to catch up. Are you still in school?"

A blink later, the younger Japanese's arm swung back, headed straight for the older's nose. However, the block got there in time, and both soon settled into their fighting stances. Sparkling light was seen enclosing Jin's hands before faking a punch, launching a kick one tenth of a second later.

Kazuya fell backward, but sprung back to his feet immediately. "Have you no respect? Barging into a man's home, breaking things, and then starting fights? You're in over your head, child." He paced to the side, dropping his fist over his guest in a powerful downwards blow.

With a pained grimace, one of Jin's knees connected with the floor. He rose back up in fury, his fist lifting Kazuya off the ground, the raven-haired youngster's body twisting around to launch the older man away with a back kick. As he watched his father connect with the wall, he spoke in a sinister tone. "Do not soil the word respect."

The Mishima got up and rolled his shoulders before starting toward his offspring again. One of his eyes was starting to redden as he spoke. "I created you, boy. Don't forget that. I will soil whatever I please, and I will enjoy it. In fact, if you hadn't shown up, I'd be busy soiling a pretty little blond right now." Kazuya brought his leg up in a quick high kick for emphasis.

As Jin deflected the attack with a force block, he hissed something unintelligible through clenched teeth. He started moving sideways, but few would expect that to include peaceful intentions. His eyes wandered cautiously over the older man, seemingly willing Kazuya to attack again.

"A little sore? You really shouldn't play with rocks bigger than you." Kazuya laughed heartily and then suddenly sprang into the air, spinning on the way into a kick. The kick was followed by another lower, and another higher.

Despite being well-prepared, Jin only managed to block the first one. The second, low kick sent him on his way on his back, and the third one got him in his shoulder for good measure. He grunted, then let out a few quick pants, blinking a few times - apparently struggling to come to terms with something or other.

He got to his feet with a sideways roll, then approached quickly; caution obviously to the wind at this point. He swung an arm at the older man, but just as Kazuya sidestepped it, Jin turned and grabbed his collar. His shoe hit his father across the face quickly after, followed by another kick on the rebound, sending the older Japanese onto the floor face first with a loud thump.

Kazuya muttered something about young people as he climbed to his feet. All humour was gone as he once again started toward his son in a steady walk. When he was a few feet away, he lunged, shoulder first and arms out to tackle Jin. Only a kick got in his way, but not for long, as he brought the younger man to the floor with him, and straddled the chest just a second to nail a fist into Jin's face. Kazuya got off right after, and backed up slightly.

~~~~~

This is a collab, written together with Chlover. You can find her author profile here: http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=26260