Okay so…FFnet has been borked and I got so frustrated that I actually took down another story. I'm only updating this one to check the email system as I've heard things are getting better.
If not, then fuck this site. All my stories are available and regularly updated on Archive of Our Own. You can find me as LordiTheUltimate.
With that little bitch spit out of the way, I hope this update will find its way to you.
From Hong Kong to Nayshall, one would have to cross through China. Juri may not have been that fully invested in geography, but she knew that much. And so did Ken. They didn't discuss it much while they were simply recovering. Recharging. Recuperating. Spending a whole day sleeping in, spending the other setting the circadian rhythm straight. News of the human trafficking ring getting busted and crumbling traveled like wildfire. Newspapers were a dying breed, so Juri caught up with the news via the internet, skimming a few articles on the subject while at the bakery.
By the time she returned to the hostel, she could give Ken a substantial summary. She slipped inside quickly from the baking sun, walking past exchange students and cheap tourists flocking to the community kitchen for coffee and tea. They hardly noticed her, and she appreciated the anonymity as she headed up the stairs, through hallways, and past bunk beds. Past other rooms that made her wish for an elevator in this stinking building.
When she finally reached the door, she fetched keys out of her pocket and entered. On the bed, lay Ken. Eyes wide open, body listless. Good, Juri thought. Some rest had really done wonders perforating his latent fickleness. Good news would obliterate it. She headed for the bed with the baked goods, sat down, and watched him watch her. His eyes were vibrant with attachment, something she still needed some getting used to.
In the world Juri had known, a person you were responsible for would easily become a distraction, a weakness. A chink in the armor. And yes, Ken was that person. And his stares of unconditional affection required adaptability. Even after everything. Juri was happy with this outcome anyway. And Ken dying would be highly unpleasant. She'd keep him for herself. Care for and nurture every morsel of his.
Starting with feeding him.
Juri gestured with the brown paper bag and Ken dragged himself to sit up in the bed, stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes. He put a hand over his leg, over the wounds, and gingerly swung his feet out from under the covers. It had healed nicely so no compression was needed. And he could walk better even if a faint limp stuck around.
"Got some good news. The auction house has been taken down and now there's a manhunt for all the fuckers involved," Juri sat on the bed and rattled with the bag.
Ken let out a hum of contentment, of relief, then shifted closer to her until their shoulders touched as she reached the baked goods. The room had no table so they sat on the bed, eating eggs wrapped in pancakes and pineapple buns with pastry cream. Neither tasted like pineapples really but Juri would miss them anyway.
"Any plans for getting into Nayshall?" she asked while licking her lips free of crumbs.
A sigh came from Ken, a sign of his contemplation. "Our only option is illegal immigration."
Juri nodded, her stomach curdling a bit. Anticipation? She liked to think so though she wasn't sure what to make of Ken's expression when he looked at her. "We have to split apart for this."
"I could pack you in a truck and drive you in?"
"They check cargo at border control. Remember, Nayshall is advanced now."
Juri settled – even if she didn't want to. No, she hadn't quite dealt with the rawness of illegal immigration during her criminal career. There were always documents, a passport, a fake name. No terrorism. But it wasn't curiosity – exactly that made Juri stare at him, long and ponderous. He stared back at her with all her misgivings mirrored.
It was the lack of smiling. Even when upset, Ken always tried to carry himself with a smile. But at this stage, Juri had witnessed the entirety of his emotional spectrum. Gently, she reached out and cupped his cheek, stroking softly over the stubble on his jaw.
"I know you're worried," he said like he wasn't concerned himself. There was a sense of calm in his eyes, undermined by neuroticism. He tried to mask that fact, but his tone was wavering. He reached up and stroked Juri's cheek, then pushed some of her hair back, pinching the lankest strands.
"You need to do whatever you can to survive the wilderness," she responded in her best attempt to be fair towards him. And he needed the warning. "I haven't had to cross borders with patrols on my ass, but I've heard stories. It's rough. It's dangerous and people die on the way. To Nayshall, it's mountains."
Momentarily, Ken's eyes flickered in concern, which, quite frankly was the wrong response to have, Juri reckoned. She expected fear. Suppose his closet summation were immigrants traveling from Mexico to America, in groups, in families, with coyotes.
For whatever reason, it didn't ease Juri's, well, worry.
Ken, for all his strengths, was an occasionally frustratingly feeling, good-hearted to a fault creature. Except the times when he was not. Which made predicting his reactions impossible. He'd take things in stride one moment, then the next he'd buckle under the horror of whatever besmirched his moral compass the next.
He had learned to withstand violence and sometimes, almost its natural conclusion; death. He had stopped flinching at the stories Juri would tell him. Human trafficking on the other hand was a breeze for her. It was a nightmare for Ken. Suppose it was the sensibilities of a good-hearted person at work, adjusting to the indifference of morals. Juri hadn't been able to study one before now. Speaking of study, something had to be done with Ken's face once things were settled in Nayshall.
A few days later, they left the hostel. The plan was for Juri to travel on her own into Nayshall and secure a base for the both of them.
Then wait.
As for Ken? His was the hard way. In the age of modern conveniences, there was a way for them to keep up with each other. Juri still had a hard time leaving him on his own when she drove her bike across the border to Nayshall - alone.
Juri had a hard time in general.
The ride past border control, then the stretches of wilderness, sprawling mountains, and rural villages was long and quiet, just as Juri imagined it was. Monotonous too by the nth mountain range she passed. Or the mountains she'd wake up to whenever she decided to rest. The terrain differed once she spotted looming skyscrapers in the distance.
At this point, it was dark out and the stars were like fireflies across the sky. The glow from the nearby area contrasted with the metropolis in the distance. Old Nayshall, the oh-so-creative name of the capital's outskirts. The dumping ground for the poor that couldn't even get assimilated into the capital of Suval'hal.
Juri breathed in the evening air and hopped on her bike again, driving across the bridge, down a decline, and through the unpaved road of the town. Cars drove by occasionally, looking far too out of place for the time-honored atmosphere of the area. It wasn't the slums, far from it. It had a traditional feel to it with industrial undertones from the tram and the old steel bridge, Juri had been driving on.
She hopped off her bike and dragged it along the dusty road, stopping outside a building with sun-bleached papers taped to its windows. Apartments for rent. She didn't know how long the stay in Nayshall would be but she, as in Ken, would need some base where they could isolate themselves for a few days if need be. So she tried the door, surprised to find it open. Surprised to find a man sitting behind a desk and watching movies from a device in the corner of the lobby.
"I need to rent one of your places. Whatever you got but please make it at least two rooms," Juri wasted no time, and the man flicked his gaze to her.
If he was operating at this hour, he was probably used to all kinds of people in acute need of rent, coming at all hours of the day, all with the same request. And so with apathetic familiarity, he pointed at a pinboard to his right with listings pinned against its brown surface. Most were modest houses and huts not in the area. Or bigger apartments probably meant for refugee families. One however was right across the street and Juri snatched the paper, putting it on the desk with a determined thud.
"All by yourself?" the lessor raised a brow and a weird smile spread over his face.
Juri did not meet his mirth while her lips thinned and her eyes glared knives at the man. "Yes. Got a problem with that?"
Predictably, no. The lessor scrambled to his desks and drawers and searched through the papers. Juri moved a little more casually and looked around at the various trinkets adorning the walls until she heard, finally, the sound of paper sliding across a wooden table. Relieved, Juri found her hostile shield melt a notch and she quickly read the details of the lease and signed the documents. Then paid the deposit.
For Juri, it was pennies. Certainly with the money that had been "borrowed" from Belger. The thirty thousand from her "sale" had gone to the other women that night on Ken's insistence, but Juri found it only right to suck the old bastard dry. If he was going to facilitate his wealth by buying people like property, said property should have a slice of that wealth.
That way, Ken could sleep at night as well.
The lessor took the money and traded it for a key, Juri snatched it and left the office. A three-room apartment on the third floor it was. Juri didn't hate it; it was better than nothing. It was modest in size but livable. Looked big from the lack of furniture. And everything was better than a tiny hostel or a cargo ship's cabin. Right in the heart of Old Nayshall, it had a balcony where one could peer over the square.
From another window, the constant glow of the nearby city spilled into and illuminated the entire room. Electricity worked but the place was covered in dust and the water from the faucets – kitchen and bathroom – ran a dismal, rusty brown, bubbling and spitting into the sinks.
While the water cleared, Juri mapped out the living accommodations. Two bedrooms so they could sleep separately – or use a room for storage. House potential tagalongs? Well first, everything needed a good scrub. The building stood and the walls were stable, but it wasn't exactly hospitable.
Oh well. Juri wished she had procured sleeping bags or mattresses on the way here. Aware that the floor was dusty, and the air was musky with abandon, she opened all windows, let all doors stand agape, gathered some dirty laundry, and made a thin, hard bed for herself right in the middle of the common room.
Before she fell asleep, she found herself thinking about Ken.
About how he had clung onto her in his moment of weakness.
About how transparent he was with his thoughts and feelings.
About his nerdgasms over gastronomy – while buckling from too much spice.
About his tendency to huff whenever he could see black roots under the blonde hair dye.
About how right he felt for, with, above, underneath, next to her. He just felt right.
Ah, suppose Juri had found home after all.
She was not domestic.
Until recently, that was. Scrubbing walls, scrubbing floors, cleaning sinks, cleaning toilets, wiping dust, wiping windows, running around with her hair tied in a bun, performing like some French maid. So, by the end of it, the base was livable and Juri felt a little proud of herself. No, she was not at all domestic, but it was crazy how calming on the nerves it was when she could wander from room to room without the urge to breathe through her mouth or sneeze constantly.
Little by little, the apartment was resembling more of a home. News of a lone woman moving in had spread and tentatively, locals approached with utensils and whatnot to be donated. They smothered her in gifts when they found out she wouldn't bite their heads off – despite looking the part. Guess it was that Central Asian hospitality in play.
Ken would be in for a surprise when he'd come back. It had been a week of nothing from him and it was beginning to scratch at something within Juri. Worry? Yeah, that sounded about right. Especially when her calls and texts went unanswered. It was a strange, alien impulse, this desire to check up on Ken. Worry still loomed large but Juri had since learned to trust her intuition concerning him. To not waste too much time second-guessing herself and follow the hunch of trouble.
It had been correct each time so far.
Thus, Juri let herself explore the town – and subsequently, the metropolis that stood next door. Checking routes, side streets, avoiding protestors that paraded the road with signs and hidden weapons until armed forces arrived to fight them. It never spilled into the old next-door town, but Juri had the feeling that the citizens were just used to it, sticking to their meager homes when the sound of chaos came about.
Didn't stop Juri from mapping out the city, locations of interest like stores, and the location of Terra Network Partners NGO's headquarters; a grand building located close to the arena that symbolized so much strife. Speaking of, yet another conflict was brewing again by the time Juri decided to head back. She stepped off her bike when she spotted a group of people gathering further down the street. Typical cries of protest, gradually growing indignant, then rising to furious.
Juri found herself watching from afar and turned around to take another route with a silent vow that she should go for a recovery mission for Ken if two weeks were to pass.
Once back in the old town, Juri dragged her bike towards the new base. The gas tank had been filled and the streets stood empty, which should give her plenty of space to rev up the engine. Yet she didn't. Just walking under the baking sun gave her room to think, to plan. She was not ready to back yet, she decided and so she took advantage of the desolation and traveled through the streets, past market stalls and parasols, past townsfolk huddled behind closed doors and drawn curtains.
Alongside the river that led out of the old town. It came from the mountains, so Juri didn't follow its length and stopped by the bridge connecting to another district. There were riverbanks underneath because the water never rose to cover it. Children would play here during the day. Adults gathered here at night. Protesters planning their next move, novice drug dealers making a profit, and small-time thugs discussing steps to make a name for themselves. Juri had seen it all but she had never been down there.
Just to be sure, she took a few steps to position herself at an angle where she could peer underneath the bridge to see if anyone was-
And there, in the shadows, Ken stood. Hood on, wrapped in a poncho, covered in dust. Almost unrecognizable except for a pair of sharp blue eyes, dark prominent stubble, and strands of blonde.
"Where the hell have you been?" Juri called with something between fury and relief.
Ken snapped his gaze up at her with a second's worth of alertness that wasn't there before and visibly relaxed. He climbed the incline, gesturing with a device in his hand. Its screen had been shattered. "Sorry. My phone got busted when I needed to cross a river."
Ah. That would explain so much. Juri could laugh with the power of hindsight.
He looked…tired. Happy but tired. Like old oak wood burdened with the weight of the world. Like the trajectory of their journey being over soon was beginning to bear down on him but not to a point where he could relax.
And he moved with purpose as he followed her to the apartment and they talked about his journey; crossing the terrain, forests, the feet of mountains, past traveling gangs hungry for blood, through rivers and open wastelands and desolate settlements in a way that reminded him of his youth when learning martial arts.
He had met people in the most isolated of civilizations where no one knew who he was. They had been courteous to him for otherwise he might have gotten his nerve broken. He never admitted to this but the unspoken truth radiated off him because he was terrible at masking his emotions.
It had been rough, Juri determined. She could see how perilously it had affected Ken. It was something different than standing face to face with human trafficking and working with gang members. That had strengthened him. This current thing might have not. It had however sunk into him like a chainsaw through a human body. Isolation, it was. It could have broken him irreparably. His resolve, his reason for fighting must have been the one vestige to keep him going, stripping him of flesh and bone but keeping the flickering spirit alive.
Juri saw hints of this when she looked at him and when he looked at her, subtly desperately happy to be with her again. Be with anyone. He didn't say so. He didn't need to. Even without as much as consciously hinting at it, he seemed rattled by the experience in a way that drew upon something deep and uncomfortable in Juri. The experiences in Hong Kong had just passed and she hoped things could settle down after that. Fool, she was. Foolish for letting him go. And in that acknowledgment, she felt remorse.
Guilt was something she ought to get adjusted to.
They made it to the apartment and Ken spent upwards of ten minutes looking around and inspecting everything, stopping by the door to the balcony. The smell of wilderness and man struck a sharp contrast to the lingering scent of cleaning agents. Juri positioned herself in the middle of the common room, watching him flutter about.
"Not bad," he turned to look at her.
"Thank you. Take a shower by the way. You smell of goat and BO. I got some dye in there for you," she pointed towards the bathroom, and without question, he entered and closed the door after himself.
The pipes happened to be loud when using the shower, so Juri moved to the bedroom and sat on the mattress to stare at the window. A game plan needed to be made when Ken was in a better state of mind. Moments later, he stood in the doorway, not dressed in anything else than pants.
Bruises painted watercolors across his skin; old and new, purple and brown. He had shaven somewhat and he didn't look nearly as diminished as he did before, though exhaustion still drew dark crescents under his eyes. Greatest change of all was the complete lack of blonde in his hair. All black like his eyebrows. He looked handsome in a way that made Juri shiver. It almost didn't look like him rather.
"…You're making it very hard for me to resist pouncing on you," she purred with a lick of her lips and got the treat of watching his thrapple visibly move from a hard swallow.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he said with a nervous smile and she breathed out in gratitude for his permission and stared at him until he came to the bed.
"You can always do some revenge," she reminded him and lifted her arms so he could pull off her shit and pull her in. "Or let me practice hospitality on you."
He didn't and the look he was giving her made Juri shiver – for the first time really.
"Get undressed," he ordered with a deep murmur that left Juri surprised yet compliant with the way his breath almost seared against her skin. Her lungs drew a deep inhale once she lay naked on the mattress and stared at Ken with a playful gleam.
Do your worst.
'Worst' would prove to be the most methodical. Ken loomed over her and began to draw his thumb across her ribs, racing every ridge, then tracing a line of defined muscle. He was usually explorative in that eager, tender way, always waiting for her permission to continue until she gave him the green light to do whatever he wanted. Even so, he did it so carefully. Even now, his touch was loving but anatomical in a way that Juri didn't hate. Moreso she was fascinated by his willingness to rediscover her shape.
"Ken?" Juri asked, voice a little wavering. She felt herself blush hotly.
He shifted, insinuated a knee between her legs, and stopped to look at her with the weight of his full attention.
"We should get you some lenses. Those blues of yours are a blessing and a curse."
Ken breathed deeply through his nose in contemplation and at Juri sliding her hands alongside the sides of his body. A mean streak, on account of actually missing him, made her drive the heel of her hands into his ribs, just gently enough to not upset any bruises.
He swallowed again, collecting his thoughts. "D-do they sell yellow lenses? You know, the opaque soft ones?"
"I have no doubt," she answered and imagined the color of his eyes as a lush green.
Ken smiled at that and passed his touches over her bare skin, closing his eyes at the hand that came to cradle his neck. Juri came to understand how different this felt when she tolerated the person involved. Or more so, she remembered. It was just that she couldn't think of the time when this warmth of being properly cared for and adored, settled over her body. She thought not of Eliza, not when Ken ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, closer and closer to the junction of her legs.
She thought of battle plans but groaned at the feeling of his fingers inside of her and closed her eyes, lolling her head against the pillow, and biting her lip. The window stood open so a cool breeze would occasionally graze her hot skin. A thought of sound made her clasp a hand over her mouth so Ken, deliberate tormentor that he was now, curled his fingers harder. Getting a rise out of her, the fiend but it still felt good, deeply, satisfying.
"Bites…" she said through her hand, face getting hotter.
"You want those?" Ken asked, bewildered like the prospect of the person giving him marks would want some of her own was completely out of this world.
She nodded. "And bruises too. Hickeys. Hair pulling. I want that too."
The admission, pleading alone felt white hot, electric, dangerous.
"Pretty please? With cherry on top?" he grinned, and she grumbled a low and ragged; "Fuck you."
Not a wise thing growl at the man with his fingers inside of you. A true sadist would punish her insolence. Ken rewarded it with a laugh before he leaned down to kiss her, clumsily testing the boundary between gentle and dominating. Then taste the skin of her neck and test the way his teeth should sink into her flesh. Juri would like to take all of it, not nearly satisfied when he pulled back and she saw his expression as dazed, soft, and undone. Grinning like an idiot, giving her a look of faux innocence and sincere affection, just to make her smile.
Yet Juri couldn't look away now. Not for a heartbeat. Not for anything.
She had to though when Ken pulled his fingers out of her, turned her body around so she lay on her stomach, and settled over her once more. Juri sank into the comfort of the sheets, shutting her eyes, feeling his hand steal down her back and the curvature of her spine, felt his breath against the back of her neck. She had stashed his soap when she left for Nayshall yet he smelled of flowers.
His weight wasn't felt anymore but Juri could still feel his presence, hear him shift, and then, finally, feel the length of his cock enter her deeply as possible. Shuddering, Juri buried her face into the pillow and let her hips get lifted until she was on her knees and Ken was kneeling behind her. She simply rode back against him and let herself be steered, moaning in delight when he'd fulfill her requests.
His hand slid across her back, nestled in her hair, and pulled her up into an arch, sending tugs of pain across her scalp but she loved it, then dropped her unceremoniously to her elbows. His weight bore down on her, his deep labored huffs coming out in short gasps in her ear. He wrapped an arm around Juri's stomach tightly and settled for the gap between her shoulder and neck, teeth digging in to the point of aching, tongue lapping against skin to soothe the pain.
He raked his lips to Juri's shoulder blades while he fucked her harder and she grabbed onto the pillow to muffle the sounds that'd come from her; frantic, euphoric, gasping, submitting to every second of Ken's relentlessness. A brute force effective in prying her open, fit like a puzzle piece inside of her. Ruthless, warm, blunt, and lovely in that fundamental way that made sex deliciously reeling.
Rather clumsily, Ken turned her torso so he could descend to her breasts, massaging one and covering the other with his mouth, catching a nipple between his teeth. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging at him to bite, tugging at him to make her feel more. And he complied, digging his teeth into the side of her breast, to the point of possible bleeding. Raw electricity through Juri. It left her mewling blithely into the palm over her mouth.
It was the hard pinch to her other nipple that made her cum yet Ken fucked her through it, rolling her onto her stomach and pinning her to the mattress, steady, selfish, moaning into the side of her neck. She caught her name desperately spill from his lips in some amalgamation, right up until she felt his rhythm falter, felt his seed fill her and she let out a shuddering groan of satisfaction. Ken stilled over her back and Juri let him be with the euphoric afterglow settling over them both.
She fluttered her eyes open and looked at the drifting curtains, catching a glimpse of the dulling sky. Her eyes rolled to a close again when Ken stirred and kissed the marks he had left on her body, caressing and brushing tender touches all over her skin.
Somehow, they fell asleep right then and there.
Hours later, when the afternoon sun spilled into the apartment, Juri climbed out of bed, away from a tangle of sheets and limbs, and hobbled her way to the washroom. She stopped in front of the mirror and saw an array of teeth marks encircling bruises across her skin. Black smears of blood made it look far more gruesome than it was.
When she returned, walking normally, Ken was still asleep on top of the sheets yet he awoke when she climbed into bed with him, wondering how he slept in the wilderness, wondering how much he needed the rest now. They remained there, naked, lazy. Freezing from the open window, eventually wrapped in the blanket, wrapped in each other.
"So, what's the plan?" Juri asked, aware that it would probably be the last time she'd ask him this.
"We need to find a way that'll give us access to JP."
Vague but open to flexibility. A task that would fall onto Juri, she concluded in the following silence.
"How's your eye?" Ken brushed some of her hair away from her forehead.
In return, Juri found herself concerned. The Feng Shui Engine was becoming an enigma even to her. A given fact she hadn't mentioned was the headaches she'd get from its use.
"It's been weird. Just gotta manage it better. Easy," was putting it light but it was the only way Juri could articulate it. Ken breathed out a sound of relief and Juri watched his expression. How his face relaxed, almost serene.
"There's a tournament coming up. The protestors aren't happy," Juri mentioned the whispers of civil unrest she had picked up during trips to the city.
Of course, Ken knew. He deflated with his answer and a sigh. "They weren't happy when the arena was built."
She hummed with understanding and reached out to rest her hand on Ken's chest. His body softened and his eyes closed. Submitted to the touch.
"We could use the tournament as a springboard," she offered and watched his eyebrows lift. Then his eyes opened and looked up at her as if to ask for elaboration, if it would be her turn to lead the mission. And she nodded.
"Should I throw my ass on the line as the fighter? Because if the old coot is overseeing the event, would it be wrong to assume that he's also the one to congratulate and mingle with the winner?"
"He might – or send a representative. Assuming that you win."
"Ouch," Juri set her jaw. "Well I'll just sit on standby then."
"Last time I was here, I heard rumors of people sabotaging the tournament. I have a feeling that someone is going to crash the party."
"So, we bag the old cocksucker while the fire's burning. If it's burning?"
From the look on Ken's face, it sounded like a solid course of action. He didn't protest much when Juri pushed herself up and climbed on top, straddling him.
"We should also find ways to celebrate our success. We haven't done much of that at all," she mused.
It sounded like a challenge, she realized. Her body was too heavy for another round, but she liked the way Ken reached across her thighs and grabbed her hips, slow and steady like the way his eyes moved open to half-mast.
Despite the dazed look, the fire in his gaze was burning like an inferno. "Got something special in mind? A nice dinner? A bacchanal?"
Juri rolled her shoulders into a shrug and leaned forward, her hands splayed across his chest, fingers spread, greedily taking all of him in. They had made it this far; it was always a treat to acknowledge how much she'd like to keep him.
"A little bit of everything," she purred, endeared by the prospect of a date. Some pillow talk, it was.
It felt so normal.