DEF: So Scorpion and Sub-Zero were probably my first ever ship and as such, they deserve some love too. The fact that no one else ships them is kinda disheartening but all the more reason to ship them as hard as I can.

The pov switches quite a bit but we start and end with Sub-Zero, Kuai Liang in this case.

You're from rival clans. He killed your brother. He wants to kill you! Those are all the logical reasons for Kuai to stop this right now, to push the wraith away, or better yet stab the bastard in the neck with an ice dagger, but logic has no place here. Logic has no place between his back and the tree, between his chest and the wraith's, between their lips and tongues.

This is so wrong. The two of them being together in any capacity but somehow that doesn't seem to stop either one. There's a metaphor to be made here, about fire and ice and desire and lust but he can't focus enough to make it. Or maybe he can because he's pretty sure there's going to be a spectacular burn on his arm where the wraith is gripping him. Where the wraith's fingers are digging into his flesh, keeping Kuai backed against the tree and flush against him.

The tongue in his mouth is too hot, like molten lava being poured into his lungs, the hand on his neck feels like a brand and he feels about ready to pass out from lack of air. He still doesn't attempt to fight.

"Mine."

Somehow the word isn't spoken but he hears it just as clearly as if it were, clearer in fact. The word is still echoing, somehow, when the wraith disappears in a flash of hellfire and leaves Kuai to shout his curses to the heavens.

All should know by now. All should have known, he had claimed the Lin Kuei dog years ago. None should have touched.

The soulmancer spat out a mouthful of blood, glowing green eyes narrowed in anger and confusion. The specter shifted his stance slightly, holding his katana at the ready and displaying exactly how eager he was to continue their fight.

How dare this pieced together soul thing think he could take that which did not belong to him? How dare Ermac think Scorpion would not defend his claim? The ice warrior was his. He has spilled enough of the man's blood, broken enough bones and left enough scars to warn off all others. Sub-Zero belonged to him but perhaps he had no made that clear enough.

Evidently he hadn't if this insignificant puissant had thought the warrior a fine addition to his hoard of souls. Perhaps Scorpion should remedy this situation before any others decided to contest his possession. Refocusing on the sorcerer's pet before him, he would reaffirm his claim after he dealt with this interloper.

There were certain things Sub-Zero's body did as a result of his cryomancy, some of which he had no control over, the forever misting breath was one of them, this was another. He'd been burned before, how couldn't he when his sworn enemy was a hellfire spawn, but he'd never healed like this. The mark on his arm had faded away to the faint, shiny scar that most burns did which raised no reason for worry; the one on his throat was a different story.

A thin layer of frost had formed over it, drawing attention to the already distinct handprint on his neck, outlining the raised red marks, as though to preserve it. He was perpetually aware of the thing, almost hyperaware of it, and it unnerved him. He felt trapped, hunted, like an animal marked for slaughter.

"Grand Master, are you well?"

Thankfully his students weren't in the habit of appearing behind him, choosing to remain a respectful distance away until they were acknowledged. The distance was the only reason his apprentice, Frost, was currently alive and did not have a blade of ice jutting from her stomach. He kept the blade up a second more before letting it dissipate, folding his hands behind his back carefully.

"Did you need something Frost?" he asked, deliberately ignoring her question. He had no time for useless inquiries, obviously he was fine if not a bit tense, he was the Grand master after all, he had many responsibilities.

"Hydro has returned successful," his apprentice reported, refusing to meet his eyes for which he was grateful.

"Excellent, you may go," he replied smoothly, nodding as she bowed before him and left. He waited until even her footsteps had died, their echoes becoming softer and quieter, to punch the stone wall. Even the pain did not help to clear his mind, only to add to his annoyance.

"What is it you want?" he hissed, fighting to apply the amount of pressure needed to dislocate the wraith's shoulder while white hot flames licked his skin. Nearly a month since the fight which left him marked in a way that aggravated and frustrated him to no end. It didn't help that the wraith didn't even have the decency to so much as grunt in pain when he finally managed to wrench the shoulder from its socket.

Growling in anger, he rolled off the too hot body, leaving an ice clone in his place. The ice melted almost instantly, not surprising with that heat, and the wraith was on his feet in seconds. Even with a dislocated shoulder the wraith was a terror to fight and Kuai knew better than to let his guard down, especially as he had his own injuries to deal with.

"You are mine," the wraith snarled snapping the bone back into the socket with barely a grimace. Years of fighting this creature, this specter with a man's face, and Kuai still wasn't used to how easily Scorpion shrugged off injury. Where a mortal warrior would have fallen to his knees in pain, the wraith burned wounds shut, pushed bones back together and ignored everything else to fight on.

"I belong to no one, least of all you, Shirai Ryu scum," he growled wondering just what the fuck had gotten into the wraith's head. In fact, there was something just off about this encounter, the wraith wasn't fighting as Kuai knew he could which pissed him off. How dare the wraith use him as some sort of anger management? How dare the wraith claim him? How dare the wraith mark him?

How dare he take so long to do it? A traitorous, insane part of his mind whispered. A part he refused to acknowledge as his own.

Return the favour.

There are some things that crop up in the heat of the moment that sound so goddamn good you've really got no choice but to do it. Although, more often than not, those were the things you really should've thought through some more.

Covering his hand in a coating of ice so thick that he could barely move his fingers was one of those things. Creating an ice clone for the sole purpose of throwing it at the wraith was another. Punching the wraith's face hard enough to feel bone snap beneath his fist, wasn't one of them, seeing the blood splatter was actually quite gratifying. However, letting his ice creep over the split skin, into and beneath to seal the wound with cold instead of fire, was most certainly something he should have thought more about.

"What happened to your face?" the question is blunt and were it not, he would have gladly torn the asker limb from limb. Instead he just grunted and returned to cleaning his weapons, a horde of oni had thought it wise to attack him and their blood rusted metal quickly.

The outworld princess dropped in front of him, slit pupiled eyes curious as she observed the wound. He had only seen it a paltry handful of times, caught in the reflection of his swords or in a river as he crossed over it. Even so, the ice was a startling contrast to to his skin and made all the more prominent for it.

"Looks like ice, did Sub-Zero do this?" Mileena asked, squinting as her eyes travelled over the cracked and frozen skin. Another grunt although he doesn't move when she brings up her hand to trail along the ice that refuses to melt no matter how hot the fire. In fact, he journeyed to the Nether Realm for the express purpose of dipping his face in a pool of lava, the ice was still there.

Maybe he should feel some measure of concern when he can see her fingers make contact with cheekbone but it doesn't register with his mind. The Lin Kuei dog had shattered the bone, splintered it then frozen everything in place, old blood, torn skin, all still there and unable to heal.

He should've cut the wretch to pieces, forced him to his knees and lopped off his damn head but...he hadn't. He'd let the bastard leave, let him walk away without so much as a half baked threat on his life.

"I could get Shang Tsung to fix it," the Tarkatan half breed offered and not for the first time did the specter wonder about the princess's feelings in relation to him. He knew her as a blood thristy beauty, a femme fatale just as likely to attack as to say good morning yet she often sought him out for seemingly meaningless reasons.

"It will heal on its own," he muttered, just as unwilling to accept help from the emperor's pet sorcerer as he was to ask Quan Chi. Though if he put some thought into it, he preferred having the scar, it was afar better symbol of his skill than any other mark. Any who saw it would immediately know him for the powerful warrior he was, to have survived something like this with what ammounted to nothing more than a scratch.

"I'm sure it will,"she murmured getting back to her feet and leaving him to his weapons.

He has no fucking idea how this happened, he hopes he never does because the uncertainty leaves leeway for this to not be his fault. Still, his fault or not, there's another man's, no this isn't a man he refuses to call this wraith a man, hand down his pants and stroking his dick.

Kuai's arms are pinned painfully behind his back, shoulders protesting the position, but the wraith's grip is iron. He can't even freeze the fucker, too exhausted from their fight and half unconscious from blood loss, far too much of the vulgar red seeping into the ground belonged to him. All he can do is breathe and curse and hope the wraith finishes quickly and leaves him be, although that might depend on him seeing as the wraith's hand is down his pants.

"You like this don't you," the wraith muttered, mouth guard pressed against the back of his neck, too hot breath sending unwanted shivers down his spine. He hates the torrid heat and warmth. Anything connected to the damn specter is abhorrent, even the pleasure he inflicts. The fact Kuai's harder than he's ever been in his life is nothing more than a bodily response, anyone would react the same.

"You fucking love it," Scorpion growled, twisting his wrist in a particularly disgusting way that had his captive bucking enough to nearly dislocate his shoulders. Kuai snarled at the implication, longing to rip the fucker's head from his body, to encase the bitch in ice and break him into pieces. He swears he'll do it, as soon as the wraith releases him, he will find the strength somewhere, anywhere, and destroy the bastard.

"Slut."

And if the vice grip on his arms shifted for a hand to fit perfectly over the iced burn marks on his throat, then he could just as easily blame his fatigue for not acting then.

His ribs hurt like a bitch and one leg was damn near numb with agony, each cut blazed with pain and he was pretty sure something inside was broken but fuck if he hadn't liked it. The Lin Kuei dog never was one to take anything lying down, even if revenge took longer than anticipated.

He still wasn't sure what had possessed him to toy with the warrior as he did, spur of the moment, heat of battle, defending his claim, whichever would work if he was questioned. Not that he would be. The Lin Kuei was too proud, too arrogant to ever admit the pleasure he'd derived at the hands, literally, of his sworn enemy. But then, so was Scorpion and he very much doubted any had seen the two in the forest either time.

Calling forth a bit of hellfire, he burned yet another gaping wound shut, curtesy of the dog that had beaten him into submission before freezing him in place. He had expected to be beheaded, disemboweled, perhaps even beaten to death, all of which had happened before and from which he had returned. What was the point of selling your soul for immortality if he didn't return from a little murder every few years?

Instead of having to wait for his body to be reborn in the Nether Realm, the wretch had nicked and sucked at his throat, making sure to leave highly noticeable marks there. The Lin Kuei warrior had traced over the shattered ice holding his broken cheekbone together before dropping to his knees and sucking his sworn enemy off to the point of climax…then left. Scorpion had cursed and raged at the top of his lungs for hours after, burning away the ice encasing him as he did. The dog had been cruel; at least he had brought the man to completion before leaving him to recover in a pool of his own blood. But did he really expect any less from the Lin Kuei?

He had issued a challenge, however strangely, and the warrior had risen to the occasion in laudable fashion. He had no right to be as pissed as he was, it was his own damn fault after all, but that didn't stop him from burning a tree to a crisp as he passed by.

He would not be beaten by the Lin Kuei dog, he would not loose at his own game.

"How is that still there? Did you not go to the healers?" Frost questioned, brows furrowed as she helped clean him up from his latest encounter with the wraith. He spent hours planning his attack and yet still he had not escaped the encounter without grievous harm, he was lucky to have both arms as a matter of course.

"Of course I did," he replied, liar, wincing as a warm cloth cleaned away most of the blood and dirt caked onto his body. It certainly helped that he was always filthy after these battles, a little extra gore stained onto the knees of his pants didn't look too out of place and yet there seemed nowhere else to look.

He had contemplated this for weeks, carefully weighing the pros and cons of repaying the wraith in his own currency, and somehow ended up doing it anyway. Clearly the wraith had done something to his mind if he'd actually believed sex was a good punishment. When was sex ever a punishment?

"Can you feel that?" his apprentice asked and he had to actually focus on what she was talking about because there was one hand on his shoulder and the other? He could barely see out of one eye and her other hand was in that blind spot, he could only guess at where it rested which was bad.

"No," he answered grimly, after the first couple months the ice had melted away from the burn leaving it as nothing more than a red brown bruise on his throat. He hadn't bothered with it after that, he had many more scars and marks littered across his skin to care about one, no matter how noticeable.

"He tried to strangle you again?" she prompted, and oh, she thought this was new. He could work with that.

"Yes." Liar.

What was one more mark anyway? Next to his scuffed knees it was nothing. Next to the taste of another man's cock in his mouth, heavy on his tongue and just barely chocking him, it was nothing.

He had meant to send his booth digging into the Lin Kuei's stomach, to have him cough up blood and see that blood smear across the man's too white teeth. He had meant to but seeing a being barely more than shadow materialize beneath his prey, beneath his Lin Kuei, flicked a switch inside him that really should be left alone.

The Lin Kuei was being shoved into a corner before the creature had a proper form and his blade was to its neck. He knew very little about Saibot beyond him being bound to Noob, his shadow or his servant that was never made clear, but he did know that the thing felt pain and could be killed. Although killed was such a relative term when the creature in question would just reform.

"Scorpion? What are you doing in the Lin Kuei temple?" The specter had known the man in life as nothing more than murderer and mad man, in death he wasn't much better, though he could tentatively be called ally. Bi-Han was yet another servant of Quan Chi, resurrected by the sorcerer to carry out his bidding, the same as Scorpion though the two very rarely interacted. Vengeance enacted or not, he still despised the man and nothing would change that.

"What I do is my business," he grunted, withdrawing his sword just enough to let the shadow slip away to rejoin its master. He did not believe Noob would attack him with no provocation and though he cared not for another fight, he didn't wish to be the cause of it. There was always his prey to consider and he couldn't have untrue rumors flying about because he had been caught 'defending' the Lin Kuei dog.

"Indeed and I would not wish to intrude upon it. I only ask you hand over Sub-Zero," the former Lin Kuei explained, his request quite civil in the same a thief asking a policeman for his gun did. The man could not be so stupid as to believe Scorpion of all people would hand over the Grand Master of the Lin Kuei to someone that might well kill him. That right belonged to Scorpion and Scorpion alone, he had claimed Sub-Zero long ago after all.

"No," he answered sharply, the word barely more than a guttural snarl. He caught the slightest hint of movement and was immediately on the offensive; Saibot could attack from anywhere and everywhere at once. He would not be caught off guard by the servant of a man he had already killed.

"I only want his Dragon Medallion, you can have him after I get it," Noob elaborated though he had already fallen into a fighting stance. The specter was not ready to fight over his prey, who cared about the wretch, but he was willing to fight over the principle of the thing. If he let any other steal the spoils of his kill, then what was the point of making the kill in the first place?

"Master!"

The shout was clear and crisp, followed by frigid weapons not unlike the ones used by the man he habitually fought. It didn't take long for the chamber to fill with Lin Kuei, at their head a woman that resembled their Grand Master in a most disturbing way.

"Next time, you die first," Noob swore, eyes narrowing at the woman he clearly knew and as there was no point in fighting multiple enemies, the man and his shadow took their leave. Scorpion took a few seconds more to observe the Lin Kuei dog, they hadn't gotten very far into their fight but the wretch's eyes were glazed over with the same lust he'd come to associate with battle.

Smirking behind his mask, he left the stone chamber in a lick of flame and heat. He could already tell he was going to emerge victorious in their little competition.

"Shirai Ryu filth," he gasped, immediately sinking his teeth into his lip, willing himself silent and refusing to react to the wraith's touch. No matter how alluring or pleasurable, he would not submit!

He had been captured! Captured of all things by the wraith that had no business taking captives and tied to a metal spread eagled to a rusty metal frame that looked as though it had come from an old bed, and forced to endure the wraith's touch for the last few…hours? He had no idea how long he'd been here, in the Nether Realm he was assuming as the light didn't change and the heat was near unbearable.

"Lin Kuei dog," was the snarled reply as those calloused fingers worked him to orgasm, rough against the skin of his prick but with just enough pressure to leave him wanting. This had been going on for as long as he'd been here, worked to the edge, shown the sweetest of peaks only to have it snatched away by the damnable metal ring at the base of his cock. Where did a Nether specter get a cock ring of all things?

He knew it was payback for his incomplete blowjob in the forest surrounding the temple, for even going along with this damned competition but his pride did not allow for failure. He had to show he was the stronger of the pair, prove that he was better than the wraith in every way possible.

"Say it!" the wraith commanded, a particularly brutal jerk dragging a harsh pant from his lips, lips which are bitten red and raw by this point. He leveled a glare at the other and bit his tongue until copper exploded in his mouth, he will not submit!

"Stubborn ass," the wraith hissed ripping off the mask he wore so often most would think it were part of the creature's face though Sub-Zero knows better. He has seen every twisted variation of the mouth beneath that mask, the skeletal jaw spitting fire and the human mouth with wicked tongue. He'd sampled both the hellfire and the sinful talent of that tongue, only he ever has and survived.

"Stubborn, stubborn wretch."

Kuai half expects the Nether specter to bite off his cock, not an unfounded fear considering the individual in question. So he's only half disappointed when the wraith takes him to the hilt in one go, swallowing around his cock and making him wish death was a viable option. He doesn't want to feel anything, nothing whatsoever as a result of the wraith's ministrations but he can't shut off his body's natural reactions.

He is pretty sure the frustration and conflicted emotions will send him insane before anything else at this rate. The effort of remaining silent alone already promising a room in the nearest asylum. That is granted, the wraith ever sees fit to release himafter this torture.

"Will you never admit to weakness?" the wraith questioned getting to his feet in one smooth move that left Kuai dizzy with the sudden change of perspective. He tries, elder gods knew he tried, but the energy neeeded to spit in his face, to curse his name or even just glare in the specter's general direction escaped him. It was just about all he could do not to let his head slump onto his chest in defeat and exhaustion. He would never let himself falter before this creature, this Nether Realm specter.

"Fine." He refused to let the bone deep panic that spiked through his chest show on his face, to lock his limbs in fear and revulsion, even as the wraith stepped out of his line of sight. The only sound to be heard was the rushing of his own blood in his ears as a too hot hand wrapped around his scared neck and squeezed. Kuai vaguely wondered just how hot the hand actually was for the heat to register in his mind before blacking out. His guess was pretty fucking hot.

Each bruise is another mark of ownership, from the ones plainly visible to the ones hidden beneath clothes and salves. Every broken bone and shiny, nearly fatal burn another thinly veiled warning, one for themselves and all others that might dare.

Every punch and kick and frostbitten, numb stretch of skin translated from the raw emotion this pair has for each other. Neither one is even sure when the line between lust and hatred is anymore, only that they've crossed it to many times to fix.

"You are mine. Mine. You will never belong to anyone else!"

And somehow, some fucking how, neither one of them argues the point. They both agreed and accepted the twisted terms and conditions years ago, far too long ago to back out now.

"You murdered my apprentice! I will send you to the Nether Realm in pieces wraith!"

So what if more blood is shed than clothing, so what if moans and groans were of pain more often than they were of pleasure? That's what they both wanted, what they craved and expected. It was far too late the game to change the rules now anyway so why bother?

"You look so good on your knees, kneeling in front of me like the well trained whore you are."

"Blood is better lube than ice, don't you think?"

So why bother?