Paul had seen it. The devil gene that was a part of the Mishima bloodline. It was only for a split second, when Kazuya had been pushed back almost too far, nearly tumbling over the edge of the roof where his opponent had found him, but it was enough. Paul had trembled there, on the verge of going to help his rival, when Kazuya's left eye had flared a brilliant red, glowing as brightly as a beacon as he stared his opponent down, raw power radiating from him in waves that even somebody as insensitive as Paul could feel.

His body had shifted, then, and Paul had watched in awe as Kazuya's short, muscled form transformed into the sleek, powerful form of the devil. It had sent a shudder down his spine as Kazuya's enemy was crushed beneath his fists, but whether it was from fear, or excitement, he couldn't say.

The battle finished, Kazuya's gleaming, predatory eyes had met Paul's brilliant blue, and the blonde man had swallowed hard, realizing for the first time that Kazuya Mishima truly was the strongest man in the world. For now, he amended. After all, now that he had seen what the Devil Gene was capable of, he had a new goal, a challenge made just for him. Instead of just becoming stronger than Kazuya, he would become stronger than this devil that stood before him as well.

Watching warily as Kazuya stalked towards him, his eyes back to their usual dark color, Paul wondered what the man was up to now. He wasn't afraid of Kazuya, but he was uncertain about the Devil Gene, and what it meant for Kazuya's personality. Stopping only a short distance from him – just out of reach, Paul noticed idly – the shorter man stared at him. "You saw?" he demanded.

Paul considered playing dumb, but then shrugged; what would it hurt to be honest now? He was probably in for a fight either way. Nodding, he replied, "Yeah, I saw. I'd heard of the Devil Gene, but this is the first time I'd seen it." That much, at least, was true. What he didn't say was that he knew of the Devil Gene only because after their little tumble on the cliff's edge, he had researched as much as he could about the Mishima family. Among the research had been debates on whether the Mishima's were part devil themselves, or possessed by one, and how the so-called "Devil Gene" was passed down through the generations.

Apparently, it also skipped entire generations at random, and not much was known about it, other than that it appeared to be unique among the Mishima clan, and that it was a tool of sorts that made them stronger, more powerful, and utterly ruthless in dealing with their enemies.

Kazuya just nodded, frowning up at him. He appeared to be debating internally with himself, and Paul waited, his body tense and ready to fight at a moment's notice. There, on the rooftop, Kazuya and Paul faced off once more, but this time, Paul wasn't so sure that he'd survive. Not if the Devil Gene was used in their fight.

In a movement that startled Paul, and nearly knocked him off-balance, Kazuya spun around and ran for the edge of the roof. Paul didn't even have time to yell as he leapt over the roof's edge. Running to the end of the roof, the blonde man looked down, his eyes wide as he searched for the crushed body of Kazuya Mishima. It took him several seconds to realize that there was no body. In fact, Kazuya was nowhere to be found. The son of a bitch had survived the leap, he realized. Well, damn.

Not entirely certain what had just happened, but not particularly caring to try his luck, Paul left the rooftop, walking past the dead body of Kazuya's last opponent on his way to the stairwell. That man hardly mattered to him; he had challenged, fought, and lost. His death was nobody's fault but his own, and Paul sure as hell wasn't going to waste time thinking about it. He had more important things on his mind, anyhow, like going home and getting some rest. He'd have to increase his training regiment tomorrow if he wanted to even stand a chance against Kazuya and the Devil Gene.

Nighttime had fallen by the time he arrived at his apartment. Flipping on the light switch, Paul debated whether eating or sleeping was more important. Deciding on the latter, Paul quickly shed his clothes and stepped into a hot shower. His shower took up nearly the entire bathroom, with four separate shower heads aimed down towards the center, where it flowed down a covered drain.

Often, Paul would continue his training even in the shower, allowing the hot water to wash away his sweat, and testing his limits. When he had first started training this way, the hot water in combination with the exercising had often made him dizzy and sick. Now, though, it was just another place to train, no easier or more difficult than any of the others.

A creak, and Paul froze, realizing that he wasn't alone is his apartment. But if it was an enemy, then surely they would know to be quiet? Unless, of course, they didn't care that he knew they were there. Paul was one of those people that never bothered to sneak up on anybody, because he believed that the only way to truly test one's skills was to face the enemy head on and fight them without resorting to sneaky, underhanded methods, like attacking from behind.

The steam from the shower had filled the bathroom and fogged the mirrors, and Paul stood there in the center of the shower, waiting for his opponent to find him. It wouldn't be difficult, but Paul might still have the element of surprise during the few moments it would take for the steam to dissipate once the door was open. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of using the low visibility to his advantage, but whoever was in his apartment obviously didn't care enough about his privacy to wait to attack him after he left the building, so Paul wasn't going to sweat the small stuff.

The steps paused outside the bathroom door, and Paul held his breath, waiting for the intruder to either walk in, or start talking. Crouching, Paul prepared himself to launch at the door the instant it was opened.

A deep chuckle sounded outside of the bathroom, and Paul froze at the sound, recognizing it easily. After all, that dark amusement had haunted his dreams now and again. "I do hope you don't mind that I let myself in," Kazuya Mishima spoke from the other side of the door. "I have no intention of fighting a battle with you today," he reassured the blonde man, his voice blunt and honest. "After all, I think we both know that I'd win in an instant. Besides, we wanted to see you again."

The change in tone, and the use of the word 'we' sent a frisson of unease up Paul's spine. He could only assume that 'we' meant Kazuya and the Devil. Another chuckle, and Kazuya spoke, his voice lower and darker. "You do realize that resistance is futile, don't you? I've been patient for long enough now, satisfying myself with battle and with my host, but I'm tired of waiting. Besides, there's a price to pay for seeing me in all my glory."

Paul swallowed, realizing that it was the Devil speaking now. It was still Kazuya's voice, but the words and tone were much different, sinister and threatening, but alluring at the same time. Paul found himself swaying towards the sound of that voice, and the unspoken promise held within those words. He remembered his and Kazuya's first and only tumble, on the edge of a cliff where Kazuya's destiny had first begun.

"I doubt I've seen you in all your glory yet," he replied, his voice steady. "From what I've gathered, you have wings, too." His only response was a surprised laugh, and Paul smiled grimly to himself, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. He didn't bother to put on a robe, because it would no doubt be taken from him anyhow. He had considered putting up a token resistance, but he didn't know this Devil, and knew that he might find himself crushed and taken either way, so he might as well try doing this a little bit differently.

Opening the door, Paul found himself staring down at Kazuya, the shorter man's left eye still gleaming with that devilish light. Kazuya smiled up at him, not seeming surprised to see the blonde man undressed. His eyes roamed down Paul's body appreciatively, and Paul stood still, waiting patiently for the perusal to finish. He was proud of his body, toned through hard work and brutal conditioning, and saw no reason to hide it from a man that would most likely be touching it soon.

Kazuya finished his examination and looked back up at Paul. "He wants to come out and play with you himself. I do hope that's not a problem." What he meant, Paul surmised, was that it had better not be a problem, because Paul no longer had any say in the matter. Shrugging, Paul raised a cocky eyebrow at Kazuya.

"He can come out and play," he drawled, "but not yet." With a reckless grin, and knowing that he might be sealing his own fate, Paul spun around, taking Kazuya with him and slamming the other man into the wall next to the bathroom door. Pinning him there, Paul inserted a leg between Kazuya's thighs, raising him up a little and taking away his leverage.

Ducking his head down, Paul kissed Kazuya, hard enough to cut himself on the other man's teeth. The metallic taste of blood filled their mouths, but neither man minded in the least, far more interested in the twin dueling of their tongues, which were fighting for dominance.

When they finally broke for air, Kazuya stared up at him, his eyes considering again. Nodding at last, as if confirming a decision, he allowed his body to relax, surrendering for the moment. Paul, sensing the change, moved away from the wall, his hands still on Kazuya's shoulders as he pushed the man backwards towards his bedroom.

Though Paul's training regimen, and obsession over being the strongest man in the world, might lead people to believe that he led a very sparse life, that wasn't true at all. Paul enjoyed his luxuries, and considered them his compensation for the training. His bed was a king-sized bed made of cherry wood. Four posts stood strong on the corners of the bed, holding a large canopy between them. Black sheets and comforter covered the bed, made of the warmest flannel. Paul enjoyed his luxuries, but he preferred the warm softness of well-worn flannel over the cool slide of silk, so he found the softest sheets he could to put on his bed.

When Kazuya's knees bumped the edge of the bed, Paul gave one final gentle push, and Kazuya fell back onto the covers. Paul was rather surprised that Kazuya hadn't fought him yet for dominance, but meeting the other man's eyes, he realized that he was only fooling himself. Kazuya wasn't fighting him, because he didn't want to fight him. He was letting Paul take the lead for now, because he had plans of his own, and right now, they coincided with Paul's plans.

Resolved to not worry about it until he figured out what Mishima was up to, Paul climbed over top of the other man and started divesting him of his clothes, his mouth urgent against the smaller man's skin, pressing kisses and small nips across his mouth and jaw, surprised to still find his face smooth and free of stubble.

"The Devil Gene preserves my body for a longer stretch of time," Kazuya mumbled under him, his hands running across Paul's back, stroking firmly and occasionally scratching or digging into tense muscles. Paul snorted; did Kazuya have mind-reading abilities, too? The smaller man chuckled, and Paul just shook his head.

Kazuya answered his unspoken question. "You hesitated over my jaw," he explained briefly, and Paul blinked. So Kazuya had noticed that, hm? He hadn't thought the brief second of hesitation had been noticeable, but apparently Kazuya was more observant than he had been given credit for.

Both of them undressed now, Paul shifted, using his entire body to grind Kazuya into the bed. The friction made the smaller man gasp and arch up, pressing his groin up into Paul, who gasped in turn, tingles of pleasure shooting up his spine at the contact. He wasn't going to be able to be gentle, but then again, they were both warriors. Gentle didn't really enter into the picture, he supposed.

Having never taken a man before, but knowing the basics, Paul just shifted a little bit, raising his body only slightly off of Kazuya. Being taller had its advantages, and he slipped his hand down underneath Kazuya, slipping one finger inside with no preparation. A grunt was his only response, and Kazuya's legs fell open a little further.

Feeling a sudden shift in pressure, Paul opened his eyes, and stared down into two brilliant ruby eyes. Startled, he froze, his entire body tensing. Kazuya just smiled up at him, the expression full of both dark promise and menace. "No need to stop now," Kazuya said, but his voice had shifted, deepening further, and the voice that came out of that throat was no longer the fighter's, but instead the voice of the Devil. "We're rather enjoying ourselves. Although, if you wouldn't mind picking up the pace, it would be appreciated."

As if triggered to obey that voice, Paul started moving again, slipping two more fingers into Kazuya's channel and getting an approving growl as a reward. Leaning down again, Paul kissed Kazuya, running his tongue along the other man's teeth until he stroked across a pair of fangs, which easily drew blood.

Another guttural groan, and Kazuya twisted his hand into Paul's hair, tightening almost painfully and holding the man still as he devoured the blood that filled his mouth. Paul added a fourth finger, and moved quickly, not intending to wait for much longer.

Shifting Kazuya's legs up over his shoulders, Paul quickly slicked his own fluids on himself and forced his way into the other man, the growls muffled by his own mouth. Once inside, he felt another shift, this one physical. His eyes open wide, Paul watched in wonder as the Devil came out, slipping effortlessly between forms.

The body underneath his own grew taller, more slender, but far more powerful. The hands tangled in his hair and stroking down his back grew long claws that teased along his skin, occasionally leaving a thin line of blood behind. Powerfully muscled thighs grew fur, coarse and rough, abrading Paul's flesh. Twin horns spiraled from his forehead, smooth and pearlescent, curving away from his head.

The injury that stained Kazuya's chest glowed a brilliant red, appearing new and fresh, though it did not bleed, and when Paul's had stroked across it, the Devil hissed in pleasure, arching up towards his touch. His skin tone deepened to a dark grey, dark as ash, and his eyes glowed as brilliant as rubies. A third eye, vertical instead of horizontal, glowed in the center of his forehead.

In a flash, the devil had flipped them over so that Paul was pressed against the bed, still inside of his bed partner. A small cracking sound, and a long tail grew from his spine, stretching out and over the end of the bed. And finally, great batlike wings sprouted from his back, towering over them and tearing through the bed's canopy. Before Paul could protest its destruction, the Devil flexed his wings and tore through the covering, tearing it into three pieces. The center fell over top of them, and the Devil pulled it off, grinning wickedly, his wings spread proudly behind him.

The Devil shifted impatiently, and Paul groaned, arching his back up, his hands reaching down to grasp the thighs now spread on either side of him, holding them tightly to his body as he thrust up into that welcoming heat. Clawed fingers tickled down his chest, but Paul was too far gone to care if they drew blood or tore him apart.

A sudden pressure, and Paul screamed, arching upwards as a thick protrusion was thrust up inside of him. Cruel laughter, and Paul swallowed, his body trying to writhe away from its impalement. The Devil had curled his tail back and slid it into Paul, forcing several inches inside.

Paul felt the blood tricking down over the tail now inside of him, and winced, crying out again when it wriggled, pushing a few more inches inside, growing thicker as more of it was pushed inside of him. "We warned you that we weren't very patient," the Devil spoke, his eyes cruel and cold even as his voice teased of pleasures still to be had. "You'll adjust to it soon enough," he continued, and Paul wasn't sure if it was meant to be a reassurance, or an order.

The tail continued to slide in and out of him, the movement made easier by the blood that now covered its length, and Paul found himself moving with it, thrusting up into the Devil even as the tail pushed up into him. Soon, the pain gave way to the pleasure that Paul had been waiting for, and it suddenly didn't matter that he had a Devil taking him with his tail, or that he was taking said Devil at the same time.

"That's better," the man above him sighed, and Paul snapped his eyes open, staring up at Kazuya. Oh, the body was still that of a Devil, but the gaze that stared down at him was Kazuya's. The third eye was missing as well. "He's a little rough, but then again, he's a Devil. It's to be expected," he shrugged, and Paul blinked, a suddenly horrifying thought blossoming in his mind.

Kazuya smiled down at him, the Devil's fangs catching Paul's eyes again. "Yes, I too have been bedded by him this way. But in my case, it is not in this world, but while I am asleep. After all, we must share one body." Paul swallowed; so Kazuya had also known this same pleasure/pain before.

The knowledge relieved him, somehow, and Paul reached up, his hands on either side of Kazuya's face as he brought the man down for another kiss, running his tongue along those enticing fangs and nicking himself again. A groan sounded above him, and the movement of the body above him, and the tail inside of him, increased their pace.

The wings cast a shadow over the bed where the two men took and were taken, and Paul reached up blindly, feeling gently along the thing membrane that covered those powerful-looking wings, realizing just how fragile they really were. If he wanted to, he could crush those wings in his hands.

Which is why the Devil hadn't brought them out during the fight, Paul realized. They were powerful, but they were also quite possibly the weakest part of this new body. And the most sensitive, he grinned, noting how Kazuya had jumped at the first touch, but was now practically purring, the wings curling downwards into his touch.

Kazuya adjusted just slightly, and cried out. Paul felt as he brushed against that sensitive nub inside of the other man, and aimed for it again, enjoying the pleasant sounds spilling from his lover's mouth. Words and personalities mixed within Kazuya, and Paul could hear both Mishima and the Devil growling words of encouragement and obvious enjoyment.

A few more strokes, and Kazuya's back arched, his voice deepening into a fierce growl as he came, spilling himself on Paul's stomach and chest. As the body slumped down, the tail once more increased its pace, forcing just a little bit more into Paul's willing body. The sudden constant pressure across his prostrate was more than enough, and Paul arched upwards, shoving himself hard up into the limp body still on top of him and coming with a cry of his own.

Both of them sated now, Kazuya's body slumped down over top of Paul's, the wings and horns retracting, but the tail remaining, still lodged inside the blonde's body as they gasped quietly.

Finally managing to catch his breath a little bit, although he was getting sleepy, even with the pleasant fullness still inside of him, Paul asked, "So that's the power of the Devil Gene, hm?"

Kazuya chuckled quietly, replying, "The Devil primarily thrives on battle and bloodlust. You're the first person he's had any interest in other than as a fighting opponent who must to be destroyed." Paul decided to take that as the compliment it was probably meant to be, and he sighed happily.

"Does this mean you're planning to stick around?" he asked. Kazuya shrugged, and Paul understood. In the world they lived in, fighting was really the only thing that mattered. One day, Paul would once more challenge Kazuya to a rematch, and they would see who won. But before that day, it was fully possible that either one of them could die at the hands of a stronger opponent. Paul didn't really believe that anybody was stronger than himself or Kazuya, especially with full access to the Devil Gene.

Kazuya shifted, the tail wriggling inside of Paul, who groaned at the sensation. The soreness was beginning to really set in, but Kazuya didn't seem to care much, squirming on top of Paul and bringing him back to full arousal as he sat up. When he smiled down at Paul, the blonde saw hints of the Devil peeking out again. The third eye, which appeared to be the primary differentiating factor between Devil Kazuya and the Devil himself, was still nowhere to be seen.

"Don't worry, he's in here. He wasn't done playing," Kazuya grinned viciously at him, and as Paul watched, a slit appeared in his forehead, and that eye stared down at him, glinting in amusement and arousal. Paul just sighed, spreading his legs a little wider and giving that tail more room to move. Making love to a Devil was probably not a good idea, but the temptation of an insatiable lover was more than he cared to try and resist.

With a smirk of his own, Paul reached up and fisted his hands in the Devil's hair, bringing him down for a bruising kiss. Right before their mouths touched, he issued his challenge to the Devil. "Bring it on." Laughter rang out in the room at the challenge, and the Devil started moving, accepting the challenge with enthusiasm. It would be a long time before Paul thought to challenge him again.