Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Jakunen Mirai ❯ Curiosity ( Chapter 12 )

"What do you mean, he's not in?! He's the Big Boss!" Sheree threw her hands up in the air in dismay, then thrust her head into them when her elbows returned to the tabletop.

Yuki rolled her eyes and petted her friend's shoulder. "Hey don't worry. There'll be other reports you'll get to deliver to him personally…"

She jumped in on top of her. "No there won't, this was a special event; there is no way in Hell I'll be able to do it again, since I'm not his secretary!" By now she'd openly admitted to her friends that she thought he was 'very handsome for an old guy', and it was almost blatantly obvious that she wanted to be able to make contact with him again, even if it was just for a good ogle.

"Look, just calm down, okay? He works here just like everyone else. It's not like you'll never see him again…"

A frustrated growl escaped the exasperated blonde's lips. "Yeah, but from a distance. I like to be noticed, ya know?"

"How can you help it in here?" Yuki smirked. "You're the only white person around!"

Of course, how could she forget? "You have a point." Slowly, she brought herself back down to Earth. "I'm good, I'm calm…" A sharp inhalation, then a slow breath out, and she was alright. "I'll just have it put on his desk. You're right, I will see him around again…"

***

He'd been sitting on the small suitcase on his bed for a minute or so now…it didn't look like it was going to explode open again, at least for now.

He was a light traveller, and never found the need for a few massive suitcases for a business trip, but since he was going to be away for an indefinite period of time, he'd packed a few more clothes than usual. And the suitcase didn't like it. In fact, it wanted to spit half of it out on the floor. He wouldn't let it, though. As he locked it, still sitting on it, he began to wonder whether the clasps would compete well with his entire 75kgs in holding the case together. Somehow, he doubted it.

Now for the moment of truth. He stood up, and hopped off the bed, then looked back at the case behind him. Nope, no explosion. Good, it all fitted inside.

Satisfied that his packing had been achieved, Kazuya yawned into the palm of his hand, and began taking off the day's used clothing. As usual, it was dumped on top of that handy chair beside the bathroom…its contents were regularly shifted to the washing machine, of course. With that task too out of the way, he disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower.

A quarter of an hour later, dressed in nothing but a pair of satin boxers, he came back out into his bedroom, dumped the suitcase on the floor, and slipped beneath the covers of his bed. Even though it was not quite eleven at night, he felt the need for an early sleep, since he had to leave for the airport in six hours. That meant five and a half hours sleep…more than he usually got, admittedly, but it was better than nothing.

It was unusual for sleep to come so quickly for him. Perhaps it was the exhausting day he'd had; whatever it was, within five minutes of turning the light off, he was asleep; dreamless, peaceful, silent sleep.

***

She'd made it this far, she might as well go the whole way.

Sheree had been working a late shift, damn her boss, and with it finally over with, she realised that it was after eleven at night. The whole remainder of the day she'd been dying to at least try and see him, and the news of a late shift had almost been enough for her to break some precious family jewels. So, after her shift ended, she decided to go 'exploring' again.

At this point, she'd found herself standing just behind his door, unable to pluck up the courage to repeat her adventure from several weeks ago. But after standing there for a few minutes, she began to hear the sound of light snores; beneath the door, no light emanated - there was darkness inside.

Aw, what the heck, she told herself, might as well leap into the deep end. Logic escaped her, and slowly, surely, she opened the door a few inches, and slipped inside.

She saw him lying pretty much the same way as he had been the first time she made this expedition. The covers had been kicked off, but were tangled around his feet, and he was face up, sprawled generously across the mattress. After watching for a while, Sheree realised he was deep enough in sleep to not notice her presence.

A moment later, she took the initiative to step closer. The dim light from the hall illuminated the room ever so slightly; of course, enough for her to become mesmerised by the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his powerful chest. Yes, he definitely had the body of a fighter.

Against her better judgement, one hand slipped down, and rested against the warm, smooth flesh of his chest. By now she'd learned he was nearly fifty years old; in fact, it was only another month before his birthday. He didn't look his age. Not by a long shot. His face was still youthful to an extent, and there was not a wrinkle present on him anywhere. And his body was still in fantastic shape. She could have kept her hand there all night; the feel of his skin was more than delightful...and she wished for a moment that he was hers.

He breathed deeper a moment, and, startled, she raised her hand back, holding it to her chest in fright. It took her a few seconds to realise it was safe, once he settled down again. It was that sudden reminder of how ferocious, how dangerous this man was that brought a sensual shiver crashing through her veins; she couldn't resist the violent urge to come closer to him again. She leaned down just a little way; the smell of mild soap hit her nose, but along with that was a definite masculine smell…a mixture of sweat, possibly, and his own personal smell. It made her feel distinctly…turned on.

One of her thumbs ran over the scar across one cheek. His skin was warm and soft, though he'd obviously not bothered with shaving before going straight to sleep. The inevitable happened swiftly; she began to lose control of her hand. Slowly, she began to trace her fingers over his other cheek and along his jaw line, through the thick black hair above, then a single finger over one brow, and down the middle of his nose. He was a dangerous beauty; and it was his danger that made him so sexy in her opinion.

Before she knew what she was doing, the hand travelled lightly down his neck, and back down to his chest again. Another good point she noted was that he had a distinct natural lack of body hair…unlike all the men she'd messed around with in England; you had to bring out the hedge clippers just to find a nipple. His own fairly dark nipples stood out in the cool evening air, but she had gathered her wits about her before she had the chance to lose control and pinch them. She knew such an act would undoubtedly wake him…which was something she didn't want to happen. She forced herself to peel away from him after running her hand down past his stomach, over his belly-button, then back up to just lightly touch one of those delicious-looking nipples. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and even with that light touch, he shifted.

Her heart leapt up into her throat, and, nearly panic-stricken, she hastily but silently left the room, shutting the door behind her soundlessly. This time she successfully made her way to her car parked in the main building's basement without having to play hide-and-seek, and took of home. Her previous act left her with her heart racing and her palms sweaty, but at least she had sated her curiosity.

***

What had been a dreamless sleep had decided to throw him into one of the most interesting phantasms he'd had in years. His unconscious mind ran illusions of a gentle, feminine hand running up and down his torso, the light sensations failing to tickle him, but instead, only make him feel wonderful and warm all over. His face, so often neglected - by himself most of all - immediately relaxed beneath the gentle touch of these mysterious hands.

Immediately, his resting mind projected images of his former love, the light of his life - Jun Kazama - into the place of the mystery hands. He took a deeper breath, willing her on…he was hers, and hers alone…forever. He was now her property, and he wanted her to do whatever she desired to him; whatever it was she had in mind, he would enjoy it.

Oh how he wanted to reach out and touch her, feel her, taste her…but he couldn't move. Yet, he didn't mind. She was his angel, and just her mere presence lifted every ounce of doubt, hate and sadness from his life.

The feeling of her hand touching his chest in its most sensitive place made him jump, and made him want to moan with delight…but no sound came, his body made no movement.

Then everything stopped.

Kazuya sat up suddenly, his peaceful dream shattered to smithereens for some bizarre reason. He glanced about in the darkness, but saw nothing. He heard nothing. But somehow, he felt a mingling presence. After a moment, he realised he could still feel the faint tingles of someone's fingers upon his skin; his skin was covered in goose bumps, his nipples were rock hard and standing out into the night - that was definitely unusual - and he could tell, without even checking, that he was at least partially excited.

Mildly disappointed, he put it down to the bizarre dream he'd just had. Though, he couldn't place why he felt the remnants of the invisible trails someone's hands had wrought upon him.

And he couldn't figure out why he could distinctly smell female perfume in the room.