Disclaimer: Tekken and Tekken characters are the property of Namco Limited. This is nonprofit fan fiction.
Warnings: M-rated slash and yaoi, portrayal of an m/m relationship. Crude language, vulgarity, and sexual innuendo. The story will feature sex, but not in the form of intercourse.
Ask, and thou shalt be given. This one is for Merriadoc, whom I thank for an incredibly persuasive and flattering request for a Hwoarang/Steve fic. The specifics were left in my questionable care, and I hope that the outcome proves to be engaging and enjoyable, even if slightly unorthodox in tone and execution.
Beyond the Pale
Chapter 1: Foxing
The shaft before him was shapely and thick. Along with a balanced set of assets, it made for a well-proportioned, attractive package. Then, it was covered with a towel.
"Oy. Eyes up here."
Steve returned to the real world, where he had just been staring straight at Hwoarang's cock. He raised his eyes in horror to find Hwoarang looking back at him, and wanted to die on the spot.
"You twit," Hwoarang said and slapped him on the head. He fixed the towel around his waist and turned to his own locker, leaving Steve sitting in a numb daze. Other people shuffled around, but they escaped Steve's notice.
He woke again to find Hwoarang rooted to the spot, looking at him over his shoulder. He got a quizzical frown before Hwoarang reached into his locker again.
Steve wasn't really in any position to state how much he hated it when Hwoarang got all British-y on him with the twit-this and arse-that. He never knew where the Korean had picked up his near-perfect American accent, but the odd, hand-selected British-isms stood out in a stark contrast to it, complete with the imitated pronunciation that Hwoarang pushed to the limit just to get a rise out of him. This time, Hwoarang had every right to push him.
Steve found his tongue. "I'm sorry—"
"You all right, Steve? You're kind of out of it."
Hwoarang was calm and friendly, and Steve felt all the more rotten. "Jus' fine," he mumbled.
"You sure about that?" Hwoarang looked at him with a mixture of frown and concern. He was still wearing only a towel, Steve realized, and combing his wet hair with his fingers.
"It's nothing. Mate, I'm sorry—"
"Don't worry about it," Hwoarang said easily. "Doesn't wear off from looking." He brushed Steve's red-faced excuses off with his usual charm and stepped off a few steps away to exchange a few words with Jin, also freshly emerged from the showers and getting dressed himself. Steve remained sitting in a towel.
Steve had been there when it happened. They were all freshly arrived, when the Korean hothead and the Japanese glacier had met at the gym. Jin and Hwoarang had looked at each other unwaveringly, and some secret communication had passed. Then, Hwoarang had stepped up and held out his hand. Shortly, Jin had accepted, and they had shaken hands. They had been friends since.
Steve had witnessed their genesis, and it had been his Armageddon. By comparison to them, he was nothing but a monster and a beast, and his number was up...
"Sex, sex, sex."
Steve jumped at the angry voice at his ear. A glance to his right revealed a livid woman who had commandeered a seat at his table. "Go right ahead; it's not taken or anything," he muttered.
"Is that all you men ever think about?"
Steve couldn't help feeling vaguely offended. "How so?"
"You—" she seethed, "—and him are all the same. You are men."
Steve was left waiting for the punch line of this story. He wondered, though, what had gotten her so furious. Who was she? He tried to wrap her name around his head. Asama...? Asuki? Asuka. Right. He wondered what had gotten Asuka's knickers in a twist, but unfortunately, made the mistake of saying so aloud.
Asuka stared at him with murder in her eyes, but then she overcame her indignation in favor of sharing the experience.
"He—" Asuka shot a look of venom that landed unmistakably on Hwoarang, who was doing business at the counter on the other end of the room, "came and asked if I wanted to blow him."
Steve started. "Oh." He couldn't think of any retort. He swallowed hard, and tried to keep the blue off his face. If Hwoarang really had said that to the lady, there was nothing to say. The delivery was shockingly crude and offhand, but it left no room for guessing.
Steve glanced sideways at his companion: she was a petite, curvy, dark-haired Asian beauty, and all woman. All those, things he could never be. He was foxing himself big time, thinking he could have a shot against that, even if this were an alternate universe where he had any chance to begin with. Steve lowered his eyes and stared at his hands emptily.
"Couldn't stay away, darling?" Someone had approached with graceful stealth that had completely flown under Steve's radar. The inviting drawl pulled him to look at the familiar redhead, who was eyeing Asuka. "All you had to do was ask," Hwoarang continued and grabbed his crotch. His lips curved up.
"You are disgusting!" The chair was left swinging on its leg, as Asuka bolted on her feet and stormed away from them and out of the room.
Steve gaped mentally at the exchange, but he avoided making the earlier mistake. He settled for an uncomfortable studying of the table.
"Some people," Hwoarang summarized with a snort and took seat. The tension left him, and he set his glass down. "Sorry about that," he said and glanced at Steve.
Steve shrugged and managed a half-hearted smile. "A guy's gotta try."
"No, that's not it. You know what she did? Or who she is?" Hwoarang snapped a finger at his glass, which clinked in response. "The name's Asuka Kazama. She comes to Jin, right? They have the same last name, and this chick's gotten into her head that they're somehow related. Looks kind of like his mother, too, which makes it worse. Don't talk to Jin about his mother; you don't want to go there. It's not possible that they were related, but she insists and insists. Got Kazama all worked up, and just wouldn't leave the guy be. I don't like women like that."
Steve ventured a peek. Hwoarang had a hard look on his face, and the humor had died away. The earlier hadn't been about scoring with the girl, after all. The thought made him feel a tad better.
"I asked Kazama to join our table; I was sure you wouldn't mind. He's pretty upset. You know?"
Speak of the devil, Jin Kazama appeared on cue. He fumbled out a hello to Steve and smiled uncertainly.
That was another thing Steve wondered. How the hell could Hwoarang speak nearly flawless English, when Jin barely got a word out? He was a nice enough guy, and Steve really had nothing against him, but he seemed to avoid situations and people where and with whom he had to speak anything but Japanese. Going by the snippets Steve had caught, he seemed to get by perfectly well in English, too.
The heck was it any concern of his, even? Steve pulled himself together and forced a smile. "Hi, mate. Grab a seat," he said and did his best to sound friendly.
Jin pulled a chair, and was visibly grateful when Steve indicated that the others could talk freely about the subject they had in mind. Whatever the common ground those two had struck was, it didn't have room for a free-rider, and Steve sank into his chair. As Jin and Hwoarang sank into a quiet exchange and the occasional glances paid to him lessened, Steve risked a glance at the redhead, fully focused on the conversation and furrowing his brow in concentration. Steve pried his eyes away and stared sadly at the drink in his hands.
Yeah... it didn't pay off being the nice guy.
To Be Continued...
Cordial thanks to Gypsie (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!
Revised March 2, 2010.
Published December 8, 2009.