The Re-Forging of the Blade

**Chapter Six**
Breaking down the Metal


“Disgrace him,” Kazuya had said to the Silver Devil before the Blood Talon’s arrival, the embers of dark, malicious fire raging beneath one nearly black, one glowing red eye. “Disgrace his body that Jin will never want of his skin again…”

Hwoarang faced the wall, his body tied at the wrists against the light grey paint scheme, thin rivulets of blood running down along a writhing naked spine, staining pale Korean flesh into the inviting cleft of Hwoarang’s / his body.

Lee took a heavy draught of powder to his left nostril, the bullwhip warm and dangling in his right hand, leaning against the leather of his trousers. Licking his lips of the chemical taste, the Silver Devil raised his refilled snifter of cognac, letting the dual sensations battle down his throat. Naked from the hips upward, Lee admired his consensual victim…letting his now free hand run down against his bound and heavy length.

“His mark will not help you, Hwoarang,” the Silver Devil purred, raising the whip for another heavy, skin penetrating lash. Almond eyes lingered on the feather tattoo between the blades of the Korean youth’s shoulders, precisely where the bullwhip’s cutting tip aimed, slashing viciously across the ink as Hwoarang cried out in such intense, exquisite pain.

The Blood Talon let his head bow down, pressing to the gray wall as the rich agony burned into his skin. “I love him...and only him…” he hissed in defiance, even as the pain nestled into his skin with almost welcoming heat. The blood injected into his body had made him feel hot euphoria, though it was another that dealt him such punishment…the only one he would take pain and transmit to pleasure for. In his mind, every unholy slice of the whip against his skin, every previous paddle to his naked body…had come from Jin…and only Jin.

“Your mouth speaks one thing…and yet your hard cock…another. You enjoy the pain…I smell it…leather and musk mingled like wine on my tongue.” The Blood Talon had taken a significant amount of torment, as witnessed in heavy leather painted criss-crosses against his back…languid lovely stains of lust and pain riddled like a constant need…burned into flesh. “Such beauty in devotion…such beauty in submission.”

Lee dropped the whip from his hand, licking his lips slowly. Drawing into the Blood Talon, the Silver Devil devoured the body of his victim with warm, wanton hands. “I am going to fuck you now…now that the pain has settled heavy into your skin….”

Chaolan was at the edge of his ability to tether his lust. Unbuckling his leather pants, he grasped the heat of his need with coning fingers…thrusting the sticky sweet desire from base to tip. “I will have you…as Jin has had you…nothing but skin as the pretext to our joining. Did he not fuck you thus?”

“I hate you…” Hwoarang hissed helplessly, though his body was eager and ready to receive, to copulate with pain and the pressure he desired. Amber eyes lowered tight…Jin. Think only...of Jin….

Hwoarang cried out deliciously as the Silver Devil thrust to the hilt inside of him…hands shaking and fisting against the leathers that bound him upward and helpless. The material twisted with his motion… as the Korean youth pressed himself back into Chaolan’s dark attentions, covering the Silver Devil in the blood from his torn back.

“So delicious…so beautiful. How you wrap around me…like velvet,” Lee groaned, his fingers falling against the youths hips, drawing Hwoarang to him, as the Blood Talon thrust back to receive more. There was no lubrication, no preparation…only pain and agony…only dark heat brought to a pitch through nearly an hour of the paddle and whip…of pure, unadulterated pain.

“Fuck!” Hwoarang hissed as he bit against his lip, filled to the edge of sanity with the Silver Devil’s thick, aching length. Such pain, such perfect agony made the Blood Talon writhe…sated the dark of his spirit as his body succumbed to pain and the guilt for that need, created by blood and desire for the dark abuse from hands that did not belong to Jin. Only the Japanese youth could have…should have touched him this way….and yet, wantonness for punishment let the skin of another torture him.

Lee pressed himself deep, a hard thrust that pushed Hwoarang into the wall, only to have his captive break like the tide against him. “You are heaven…” Lee lifted one hand, painting the Korean’s spine in the blood at his fingertips. He could hear the heavy breathing not far in the distance, the pleasure of his adopted brother…his lover….stroking to perfect attention at every well placed thrust.

“You are a treasure, Hwoarang...my treasure made of trash…my plaything to devour…never to be set free…” Lee groaned as he pressed deep into the Korean youth’s core, feeling the hot milking reflex choking on his thrust. “Call out to him! I want to hear the sound of his name on your lips…scream...and beg his forgiveness!”

Hwoarang groaned in agony, fingers trying to rip at the leather bounds that held him, as the Silver Devil devoured him…from the inside. Every thrust made him shiver, every hard motion pushed his desire further from the reality of what was happening. Panting breath leaked out past his lips as his mouth formed the words. “Jin…Jin…Forgive me…I love you…forgive me…”

“Harder!” Lee groaned in the heat of the Korean’s pain, leaning back to send his thrust with spiraling desire deep into the Blood Talon’s shivering body. “Call to him!”

Hwoarang bucked forward, his crown leaking slick as the pressure of Chaolan’s body fed into him, giving him every desire and every pain. “Jin!” he cried out, head hanging low between the bonds as he felt Lee press into the depth of his skin, relentless in pursuit of his buried heat. The moment the spark ignited, Hwoarang was like a firestorm, arching and pressuring back and forward like a spoiled bitch in heat. “I’m…going to cum…” the roar became a whimper…

“Replace his name with mine, bitch…Let me hear it from your lips…before I fuck my cum into your mouth…and make you swallow,” the Silver Devil threatened, already so close to the edge.

“J…Lee…please…” The pain was too much, the sweet ecstasy of agony was drawing the Korean to the edge of his sanity. A heavy pull on his jaw drew the Blood Talon away from his own bliss…

“Receive me!” Chaolan hissed, spilling himself into the perfect firm vessel of Hwoarang’s mouth, overcome by the heat of his name from the Korean youth’s lips. With gasping breath, Lee pressed himself deeper…as though imprinting his seed into the Blood Talon’s very skin.

Within a single flash of pain and pleasure, the Korean youth swallowed and released himself in ribbons, spilling seed over the floor beneath his feet. With a groan of agony and ecstasy, the Blood Talon felt his body loosen…felt the weight of leather dig into his skin… as the salty taste made its way down his throat…

**

Hwoarang stepped out of the sleek black limousine, trench coat catching the slight mid-afternoon breeze as he moved. There was no end to how deep the rabbit hole of his filth would go…and even now the soreness of his body was a horror to sense.

Ling Xiaoyu stepped outside the hotel, looking down at a pink manicured nail, scratched by a door she had not been paying attention too. Looking up, she could see the copper tendrils of the Korean youth, stepping out of a car far too expensive for almost any to afford.

“Hwoarang?” she asked, though her words were meant solely for herself. The Korean moved with soreness, his body stiff as he stepped onto the curb…face darkened at the cheeks…one eye appearing blackened as though the he had gotten into a vicious fight. But what fight would end in a limo ride back to the hotel, leaving the Blood Talon looking like hell had worked him over?

Shielding her face, Ling looked over her shoulder as Hwoarang walked into the hotel, passing her as though she was but a phantom somewhere outside his vision. “What happened to you?” she bit her lip, turning back to watch the favoring stagger the Korean used as he moved deeper into the confines of the lobby, toward the elevator.

Deciding to forsake her morning breakfast with Julia, Ling drew back into the hotel lobby. “Can I have Julia Chang’s room?” she asked the attendants who serviced the counter, though her eyes never left Hwoarang’s motion into the closing elevator. Unsure why, Ling knew the Korean needed her…and that meant more than eggs and toast in some American style restaurant…


**

“Enjoyable enough for your senses, Kazuya?” Lee asked as he wiped a towel against his freshly washed hair. His eyes beheld his adopted brother with a sense of innate fulfillment.

“The show was enjoyable enough, Chaolan,” the younger Mishima snickered, crossing his legs as he sat upon the couch, enjoying the very seat Hwoarang had rested upon as Lee drew the Korean’s blood earlier.

“Such a wondrous homophobe and yet, you longed to watch the boy’s breaking. Sometimes you are an anomaly to even me,” Lee huffed, nestling into the depth of his lavender terrycloth robe.

“Jin has become a whore to Korean blood…the bed mate of a street rat. Even I chose to spill my seed in places of greater virtue,” Kazuya hissed, pursing his lips as his eyes beheld Chaolan’s firm thighs, left visible from the heaviness of water soaked terrycloth robe.

“How you thrill me with your…intellect and greater sensibilities,” Lee huffed, rolling his eyes as he raked his fingers through molten silver tendrils of whet mane.

“My son, unlike me...chooses to allow himself to be taken like a common prostitute by such lower-class blood. To spill the seed, in his case, is far less a crime than to receive it,” the younger Mishima hissed once more, licking his lips slowly as the robe fell away, showing the curve of Chaolan’s lithe, spread hip.

“Is that your reasoning for watching the Korean youth’s pain…for enjoying it…stroking yourself to pitch because of it?” Lee tossed the spent towel to the floor, raising his pack of cigarettes to release a single cylinder. Tapping it against his palm, the Silver Devil lifted the lighter, in a flick he sparked the nicotine to life.

“One of many reasoning’s. Unlike him, you know your place…do you not, Chaolan?” Kazuya hated the nicotine taint of the air he breathed, his reddened eye narrowed as the Silver Devil inhaled.

“I know that Japanese blood, superior as you tell me it is…still yields to the taste of Korean flesh. Flesh like my own,” Lee snickered, even as Kazuya adjusted his place upon the couch.

“You have never tasted more of the flesh than I give you…a thrust here…a scream of pain there…you do not ride into my skin the way Jin has accepted pain and pleasure with a lower life form,” Kazuya hissed, his hand reaching out to firmly grasp the Silver Devil’s thigh.

“Hungry again, Kazuya…my dear sweet brother...” Lee tormented, licking his lips of the nicotine taint.

“Adopted brother, Chaolan. You are my infection, your body ready to receive the cure,” Kazuya hissed, his hand pressing Lee back into the warm, welcome wealth of the couch…

**

Hwoarang entered the room, back kicking the door closed behind him. With a resounding hiss, the Korean fell backward against the sealed portal, his body tensing as the pressure connected to his shorn flesh, making him writhe in pure agony.

“FUCK!” the Blood Talon growled, arching his whip lacerated skin into the steel door again and again…punishing himself with the agony created as the pressure pulsed between painted metal and the material of his shirt and Jin’s leather jacket. The pain was excruciating…dark…mindful of just what the Korean had become.

“How could you do this to me, Jin?” Hwoarang cried out, his fingers fisting into coppery tendrils, pulling on the follicles till the skin beneath lifted…his eyes rimmed with glittering tears as the pain finally became too much. The Blood Talon lunged forward with heaving shoulders, arching into a side kick that sent his boots and spurs deep into the wall that bordered into the bathroom. Jin…did not do this intentionally...the Japanese youth had pleaded his fear of the effects…but the Korean just would not listen...drawn to tainted flesh, tainted blood like the parasite Ling had once accused him of being.

A heavy crack from the busted in drywall slithered like chord up along the paint and plaster, stopping only when it met the ceiling. With a dark sneer, Hwoarang withdrew his deadly leg from the scene of the crime and screamed with the fury of a wounded animal. “What am I becoming, Jin! Fucking answer me! What is happening to me!”

The words were open ended as the Korean lurched forward…leather clad arms reaching out to push the television from its perched stand on the end of an ornate dresser. The set crashed to the ground, breaking out the screen as circuits toppled forward as though spilling its guts onto dark, modern carpet.

“WHY?” the Blood Talon cried out again, ripping the jacket from his body and tossing it onto the bed, kicking the chair that sat before a vanity clear out of his way. Raising his hand, fingers curled toward his palm…Hwoarang levied a hammer strike into the tabletop vanity, splintering the beautiful furniture down the center with a force made of Ki…mixed with dueling demon blood from inside of him.

With a cold hiss, fire rimmed sienna eyes narrowed, he grasped the lamp that sat opposite of where the television had rested…and with a heavy throw to the opposite wall above the bed head the ceramic smashed into pieces…the hot charge of Ozone filling his nostrils. Ozone. The smell of Jin’s fatal lightning…the same electricity that burned into his forearms leaving black smoke trails where the current ate at his flesh. The Korean swore another whiff of that aroma…and he would lose his sanity for the rest of his life.

The window. With a sudden surge of strength, Hwoarang closed the distance between the panes and himself…hand curling back into a fist at his hip…twisting outward as his knuckles broke through to daylight…through the glass itself.

“Fuck!” the Blood Talon cried out, shaking as he withdrew his right arm, shards imbedded into the area of self inflicted, bite tendered skin. The daylight itself burned him more than the agony of glass penetrating his skin like a lover bent on his pain.

Boots and spurs walked over the evidence, crunching on the glass that glistened like rain on the dark carpet. Falling down to his knees, the Korean turned fascinated eyes to the spikes that glittered like ice jutting out of his flesh. Every motion he made brought the smell of lust and blood to his senses…and never had Hwoarang felt so…dirty. A filth so deep, he could smell Chaolan all over his skin…and he wondered if he scrubbed himself, if that scent would ever leave his body…

Turning his gaze to the window, the Korean lifted a shard of glass from his knuckle…absently drawing the former intrusion to his lips to let his tongue taste the blood that dripped like an endless river from the sharp edge. What would it feel like…to leap forward and fly…to spread the wings he did not possess…and let the concrete end his pain? How far from grace he had fallen…how hopeless and out of control he had become…and the window itself became the symbol of freedom from the cage…if only he could rise and make himself leap forward…on faith and love…soon to be in Jin’s arms, once more.

**

Ling stood outside the door to Hwoarang’s hotel room, her fingers pressed against her lips in disbelief. Every scream, every crash and splintering sound from the inside made the Chinese youth cringe…paralyzed with the force of the Blood Talon’s sudden fury.

And then, there was only quiet. A sickening quiet preceded by the sound of splintering glass. Nothing could ever be so fearful as the fiery Korean…turned eerily silent. Making her decision then, Ling tossed her purse down on the ground, not caring as the contents spilled forward. Drawing her arms over her head and back again by the hips, she released a powerful blow that hit the handle off the electronic door….making the metal dangle like a broken arm.

Lifting her leg in a fierce kick, her pink low heel sling back shoes broke the door open quickly, now that the lock itself was defunct. What met her scanning eyes made the Chinese youth shiver…

The interior of the room was demolished, broken glass and splintered wood littering the dark carpet like debris from a tsunami washed up on some pristine shore line. Hwoarang was kneeling in the center of broken glass before the window facing south, the smell of blood heavy in the air like the remnant of bleach on clean floors.

Blinking rapidly, Ling walked deeper into the room…watching the Korean youth withdraw a shard of glass from his arm…bringing the edge to his mouth as an eager tongue reached out to lap at the blood on its tip. “Hwoarang?” she whispered fearfully…not even her hasty and loud entrance had roused the Blood Talon from his quiet.

“Am I becoming like you, Jin?” the Blood Talon spoke in eerie whispers, tossing away the shard he had licked clean of blood, only to lift another, plucking the glass from his skin like a needle from a cushion. “Am I becoming like you, Jin?”

The repetition of the Korean’s words made Ling shiver with fear. “Hwoarang. Hwoarang, it’s me…Ling…?” The Chinese youth drew closer, her voice kept low and calm, even if she could feel herself shaking as she came upon the Korean’s back…the material of his form fitting tee-shirt clinging to his spine, littered with trails of blood…rivers of dark patches that linked together as Hwoarang’s muscular spine quivered.

The Blood Talon repeated his words to Jin as Ling softly pressed her fingers against his shoulder…drawing herself around his body slowly, the crunch of glass barely making far away eyes blink. “Hwoarang?”

Still no response. Ling stood with her back to the window, watching as the Korean tossed away another piece of licked glass…fingers plucking a new glittering shard toward his mouth. Hwoarang’s lips were cut and bleeding…some shades of red against his lips darker than the others…and Ling could only believe it was the blood he drank from the glass that covered over his mouth like demented cosmetics. Never had the Chinese youth seen anything as frightening as this…as though the Korean…had lost his mind…

Ling’s hand reached out to take Hwoarang’s bloodied fingertips, pausing the motion of glass to mouth. That roused the Korean’s attentions and he lurched upward, trying to grasp at the Chinese youth’s throat…pressing her to back up, toward the window.

Ling’s fingers wound around Hwoarang’s hands, fighting back against the attempt. Her balance was waning as bloody glass slid under her foot and she screamed out with pure, unadulterated fear. “Hwoarang…don’t do this…I...loved Jin too…”

The Korean paused as a blink finally came over his eyes, fingers slackening slightly as Ling made headway. With a push she shoved the Blood Talon backward, drawing herself to a crouch to prevent losing her balance and going out of the fifth story window.

Hwoarang fell back, just outside the reach of the glass, his head tilting to the side slightly as recognition returned to his features. “You did...you loved him too…” Tears formed at the rim of the Korean’s haunted eyes, glass imbedded hand raising up to wrap around the opposite shoulder, as though attempting to warm himself from the breeze that filtered into the room.

“What is happening to you, Hwoarang…” Ling shuddered a breath. The shock of the moment was over and now the tattered pieces that littered around her made her body spasm and release the pain she could feel, in the form of her tears.

“Jin…Jin gave me his gift Ling…but I’m not worthy enough to have it. His gift…is going to kill me…I’m just not strong enough…just not strong like he was…” Hwoarang whispered as tears fell down from the rims of his eyes. “I...have to take a shower…I’m so dirty…”

It was obvious the Korean was not out of the dangerous trance yet, even as tears glittered like ice against his pale cheeks. Such sadness, such loss...such grieving. “I don’t understand, Hwoarang…I don’t understand this gift Jin gave you…You have to see a doctor, Hwoarang…your arm…is really bad…I’m going to call an ambulance…”

“The doctors won’t find it…the gene is buried…like Jin…buried.” Hwoarang glanced down at his shorn arm, though no recollection came over his features as to the urgency of his wounds.

“I don’t understand you, Hwoarang…” Ling sobbed, raising her forearm to wipe her eyes and nose of the salty lamentation. “Your scaring me…please Hwoarang…you lost Jin...we lost Jin, don’t make me lose you too…you’re all I have to remember him by…”

Ling drew upward, careful not to slide on the glass…and fell on her knees beside Hwoarang. Dainty manicured nails, now red with blood, lifted the Korean’s angular face…the dark blue and black mark on his right eye shining through like a badge of pain…and malice. “Hwoarang, listen to me…please…we have to get you treated…you’re not well…”

That was the moment, the Blood Talon crumbled. The skin of his lips wrinkled as the first heavy sob broke past the rim of his mouth…letting out a tortured cry, echoed by the fury of his tears. Pain rained down from his eyes like sun kissed diamonds, ice melting beneath the returning fire of spring. “I miss him...so fucking much. If he was here…he would know what to do…know how to make it go away…If he was here…I wouldn’t be this…but if he was here now…he wouldn’t even know me anymore…”

Ling’s heart broke as she grasped the Blood Talon into a shaking embrace, the fiery Korean melting against her body as he sobbed…his wracking cries and falling tears finally making him human…finally releasing his agony. “I…spent the night with Lee Chaolan, Ling….I let him use me…I let him abuse me…I’m so fucking sick, Ling. And he...is like my doctor…”

Ling let her tears fall into the black roots of the Korean’s normally pristine dyed tendrils. She had no idea what was happening…what this gift was, what Hwoarang was babbling about…but she did understand that Hwoarang had allowed himself to be with another man…this Lee Chaolan…a name so familiar it scratched at the roof of her mouth. “Don’t go back to him…we can find a real doctor…we can find you real help…together…”

“There is no one…to help me…He feeds the gift…I have to go back to him…” Hwoarang sucked back a breath, tasting the salt of his tears…but to him, every sense was overrun with Chaolan’s seed down his throat, salty and malevolent. So filthy…so dirty….

Ling leaned down, grasping Hwoarang’s pale, angular chin…drawing his face close to hers. “I will help you….” she nodded, tears glistening like snow against her pale flesh.

No one had ever spoken to him with such care, such genuine care. In a moment of pure fear, the Blood Talon raised his bloody fingers and pressed them to Ling’s porcelain features. His lips took hers, brushing the velvet softness as the slick muscle of his tongue brushed to hers, feeling the Chinese beauty meld against him and return the sudden onslaught of passion….