Unlikely Angel

Summary:  What happens once the danger is past?

Feedback:  Thanks to everyone who encouraged me on this journey.  Every bit of feedback was gratefully appreciated, especially if it pushed me in new directions or made me think of ways this could be improved.
Special Thanks:  One name need be said here, for she knows already how much I appreciate her help, friendship, feedback and inspiration for this project:  Kat.


Notes:  Googling "expensive suit" got me this site that has some of the most expensive suits listed!  I'd initially listed the 6G suit, but then Kat and I decided that the Kiton suit (in pinstripe!) would be sexier, since we both like pinstripes.  They're sexy.

Closing Notes:  Well... it's over.  I'm... still in shock, I think.  I've been writing this fiction since January 2007, and it's now August 2008.  It has been such a part of my waking days, always the first project I open when on my computer.  I don't think I can think straight at the moment.  I have other projects to work on (many I've had on hold) but I'm so used to these multi-chaptered things.  Well, here's another that I can say I'm happy with and can say I've completed.  I've learned quite a bit about writing and plotting, not to mention developed a healthy obsession with Yakushima!

I want to thank you for getting this far and sticking with this story to the very end.  I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this massive project.  Writing about Yakushima had to be my favourite part of this hands down, though, I did enjoy flexing my writing muscles to learn how to write fights.  All-in-all it has been a wonderful experience, though which I have met many lovely people.  I sincerely thank you for your time and interest in this story.  I loved writing it, but I seriously smile in happiness to know someone has enjoyed it as well.

"Angel/Devil's words inside Hwoarang/Jin's head"
'Hwoarang/Jin's thoughts'

+++

Epilogue

The elevator chimed as the car carried the two men up.  Higher and higher until the final bell sounded and the doors ceremoniously slid open, revealing the penthouse suite.

Hwoarang stalked through the doors with a hulking gait, his shoulders hunched under the tailored suit jacket.  The black garment quickly found its way to the floor as the Korean turned around, already pulling the tie free from his neck.  “Shit, Kazama,” he growled, facing the other man who followed a few steps behind, treading around the expensive Kiton suit jacket.  “This thing is too stiff and uncomfortable.  Can’t we get something else?”

The dark-haired man bowed his head to hide his smile, comfortably slipping his hands into the pockets of his own near-six-thousand-dollar suit.  “I think you look nice,” he chuckled.  “Maybe running the Zaibatsu really isn’t for you?” he added.  It had been nearly six months since the King of Iron Fist Tournament that had earned the fiery Korean the title of champion as well as the prize of the company.  He had taken control of the Zaibatsu with only a few hiccups, much to everyone’s surprise.  To the whole world he was the perfect rags-to-riches story and was the perfect head of a company that had, until that point, been geared towards genetic testing and military support.  The redhead had marched in, turned everything on its ear and the dust was just starting to settle with the entire organization falling into line under his boot.

Hwoarang narrowed his eyes to shoot Jin a sultry look.  “I’m doing alright with this business thing, Kazama.  It’s just this monkey suit that kills me, it’s so stuffy…” he pulled the dress shirt apart, ripping a few buttons in the process, and tossed it over the leather couch.  He turned his back to Jin as he kicked off his shoes and began removing his belt.  “Is it too soon to call another tournament?”

“Wait maybe another month,” Jin looked at the clothing balled up in a heap before seeming to decide against picking it up and just leaving it where it lay.  “If you’re itching for a fight…” he trailed off, catching Hwoarang’s attention.  “I don’t have any plans right now.”  His dark eyes flashed.

Hwoarang stopped moving, his back going rigid before he spun around with a glint in his eye.  He caught Jin by surprise, digging his fingers in, wrinkling the expensive clothing.  “It’s not like you to pick a fight, Kazama,” Hwoarang purred, stepping closer until he could feel the heat radiating from Jin’s body.  “Are you really anxious to go right now?”

“A-actually,” Jin breathed, wrapping his fingers around Hwoarang’s wrists and squeezing tightly.  “I’m itching for something else…”  His dark eyes slid shut as the two fighters drew closer, pressing their mouths together.  They kissed with the desire of a pair of ravenous beasts, starved all day with nothing to satisfy them but hungry glances exchanged over a boardroom table.

Hwoarang spun them around, backing Jin into the wall and pinning him there as his hands made short work of his clothing.  He dug his fingers into Jin’s shoulders, the harsh action muffled by the thick material.  He groaned as he felt Jin’s muscles beneath the cotton barrier and he moved to rip at the buttons.  His fingers clumsily pulled at Jin’s tie, all-but tearing the shirt open and pushing the expensive clothing off his shoulders.

As the suits were peeled away, so were the corporate identities they’d developed to fit into the Zaibatsu. 

Jin was not cut out to sit in board meetings, dictating notes to an assistant who wore entirely too much perfume.  He was a long way away from Yakushima and what he thought of as him.

Hwoarang was the square peg shaved down and forced into the circular hole; he was uncomfortable and essentially didn’t fit, but he’d be damned if anyone pushed him out of that hole!  He grunted and groaned every time he pulled the suit on, gritting his teeth when he faked a smile and leaned heavily on Jin to listen to his complaints.  He was surprisingly successful running the company – after digging for some extra help on the side – though, he secretly worried that his flexibility was going to shit because he hadn’t seen the inside of a dojo in a week and he’d taken up smoking again just for something to do.

But it was in moments like then, after the phone stopped ringing but the sun was still visible in the skyline, reddening the clouds to a warm rusty hue and the entire world shone into their suite.  The two fighters would press their bodies together, their mouths slowing in their caresses in the waning sunlight.

Jin sighed audibly and kneaded Hwoarang’s back, murmuring about how the redhead felt a little tense.  “Boardrooms really aren’t your thing, ‘Rang.”  The Korean grunted and moved in to kiss him again, worming his hands between them to loosen Jin’s trousers as well. 

The dark-haired man tilted his head back just as the cascade of bites and licks started along his jawline.  He couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped, like a wave of tension was released and all their daytime worries melted away. 

Hwoarang shivered and his hands gripped Jin tighter.  He straightened up and dragged the dark-haired man across the marble floor to the bedroom, the remainder of their clothing getting lost along the way.++

The Japanese man fell gracelessly onto the plush, king-sized mattress.  He bounced once, letting his entire body go limp before shifting back, playfully arching out of the way as the Korean crawled over top of him and then ventured lower.  His bare skin slid against the silky sheets, making little sound as he shifted beneath his lover’s weight.  He looked down the length of his body, his gaze meeting the steady stare of the redhead’s amber gaze.  “I…” he blushed, fidgeting.  “I hate it when you stare at me like that.”

“I just like making you blush like that, Kazama,” Hwoarang nipped at the inside of Jin’s thigh.  “It makes you look like a blushing virgin.”

Jin winced, trying to decide if the bite hurt more than he liked it.  “Shut up and fuck me,” he finally breathed and threw his leg over Hwoarang’s shoulder, inviting the other man to open him up.

A small squeak escaped the Korean’s throat as his aura darkened to one consumed by arousal.  He dipped his head low, briefly taking Jin in his mouth before proceeding lower.  He was so hot – they both were – and Jin thought he would explode as he felt his lover’s tongue pushing inside him.  He spread his thighs wider and gnawed on his fist as Hwoarang began the slow, agonizing ritual of preparation.  He tilted his hips up as the redhead spread him apart, licking at one of the most private areas of his body.  Jin clenched his muscles and inhaled sharply.  “Can… oh, God, can’t you hurry up?” he nearly mewled as he felt the other man press his fingers inside his tight passage.  “I’m ready, Hwoarang.”

“Oh, I know you are, Kazama,” the redhead grinned and crawled up the length of Jin’s body, making a show of wiping his mouth as he did.  “I just like hearing those noises you make,” he positioned himself above Jin’s body, bearing down as he guided his arousal to the entrance of Jin’s body before pausing.

The dark-haired fighter arched up, snapping his hips to drive Hwoarang’s erection into his body, drawing him in with one fluid, harsh movement.  “If you’re feeling too stressed,” Jin said.  “I can do the work for you,” he kept his voice low and controlled while wrapping an arm around Hwoarang’s shoulders for purchase.  “Maybe we should reverse our positions…”

“Shut up, Kazama,” Hwoarang seemed to snap into character and he pinned the dark-haired man to the bed.  His body slammed downward, meeting Jin’s upward thrusts and he ground his hips in erratic circles as they fucked like wild animals.  Their mouths came together in a clash of tongues and teeth, biting and licking in a fight for dominance and the need to be closer to one another.

Nails dug in, sliding along sweat-slicked backs and shoulders, chests and thighs.  Their bodies molded together, forming around, against and inside one another.  Their deep, tenors growled wordlessly as their movements became more fevered and frantic; driving up and down, in and out.  Their breathing turned into short, erratic gasps that grew more desperate… frantic…

Jin forced his eyes open, locking them with Hwoarang’s amber orbs as he felt his body grinding to a halt.  The moment lingered, their breaths mingling between them as the muscles wound up within him.  His nerves seemed to twitch in warning before exploding into the flames of release that claimed and ravaged a part of his soul he kept locked away.  He howled his release only for Hwoarang, never looking away. 

Jin gnashed his teeth, biting his lip as Hwoarang held him down, forcing him to ride out his orgasm wave after wave after seizure-inducing wave.  He shuddered as he felt a warm heat filling him, and was only semi-conscious of his name echoing on Hwoarang’s lips.

He choked on a cry; jerking his hips to the side as his nerves rubbed raw and he still craved more.  He panted, wishing simultaneously for it to be over, and at the same time, never end, hissing the redhead’s name like a bloody mantra the entire time.

He pressed his hands to Hwoarang’s shoulders, letting the other man to finally collapse against him as he held him tightly.  Whatever had been bothering him about that day had left his mind.  His fingers wound their way through Hwoarang’s mane, twisting the ruddy locks between his middle and forefingers as he basked in the afterglow.

They lay like that for a long while until Hwoarang pushed back and raised his hand to cup Jin’s face.  He took a breath, as if to say something before his amber eyes seemed to shift and he pressed a kiss to Jin’s lips instead.  His mouth was firm and soft, possessive and pliant, giving as much as he took. 

“You always know how to ruin my moods,” Hwoarang finally sighed.  “I was so pissed, and now I can’t remember what that jackass said to me at that damn meeting.”

Jin smirked as Hwoarang pulled out of him and rolled over, listening to the familiar click as the redhead lit a cigarette.  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said coyly.  He lied back and propped his arms behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling – his reflection staring back at him from the ceiling mirror in all its naked, spent glory.  “I’ve noticed you’re losing your temper more often, lately,” he commented, shifting his gaze to his lover.  “Threatening clients isn’t good for business.”

“Well, they shouldn’t be such pricks!” Hwoarang angrily flicked his cigarette.  “Great, now I remember why I was pissed!”

“Why don’t we go away for a bit?” Jin offered suddenly, imagining Yakushima and their friends they had left behind.  He had written to Inoue once or twice but hadn’t heard back from her.  He was aching to go back.

Hwoarang seemed to spring to life.  “Ye~ah!  Now you’re talking, Kazama.  That guy has been bugging me to visit him, too!”  He rolled over, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as he reached for his phone.  “Yo, Amy,” he nearly shouted into the receiver, no-doubt bothering their assistant during her time off.  “I need you to cancel our appointments and book us a plane to Korea… yes, cancel them all!” he nearly laughed, butting his smoke in a silver ashtray.  “No… no, I don’t give a shit.  Jin and I are going back home and I want you to make sure this place keeps running.  Hire whoever you need to deal with the bullshit.”

Jin rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow.  “I meant visiting Yakushima,” he tilted his head as the phone receiver clicked back into the cradle.

“Really?” Hwoarang rolled onto the bed and stretched an arm over Jin’s shoulder.  “You should have said that, I just got us a trip to visit Doyon and everyone else.”

Jin recalled their first encounter with Doyon and the way the noisy man in the loud shirt had burst into their hotel room, interrupting something that could have been fun.  The dark-haired fighter had visions of the same thing happening over and over and over again the entire time they were there.  If they were staying there on Doyon’s turf, guaranteed the pudgy blonde wouldn’t leave them alone.  He narrowed his eyes and drew closer to the other man.  “Fine,” he breathed with a hint of irritation.  He nuzzled the redhead’s neck before suddenly grabbing him and throwing against the mattress.  He climbed on top and nipped at his jaw.

“Kaza-? What the hell?” Hwoarang tried to crawl away, but Jin pinned him down with the strength of determination.

“I won’t get another chance to do this,” he purred and pressed his mouth to Hwoarang’s.  “Not if that friend of yours has any say in it,” he laughed breathlessly, pressed his forehead to Hwoarang’s, and kissed him again.

They moved, their bodies latching together like two pieces that were meant to fit with each other.  Their stiff business suits were forgotten, strewn around the bed and trailing out the doorway and away from the lovers.  In the morning, they would walk over the crumpled silk and scattered Kiton suit pieces, leaving the clothing behind to escape to something more familiar and a part of their characters.

Somewhere there was a city with a vibrant soul calling to them with a gritty allure, its voice echoing alongside that of an island that beckoned with its ancient forests and misty waterfalls.  The two fighters collapsed against each other, tired fingers pressed into warm skin and they settled in under the thin bed sheets, quickly falling into dreams beautiful yet unremembered.

~End Epilogue to Unlikely Angel ~