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Title: Body Slam
Author: Merci
Source: Tekken
Rating: NC17
Pairing: King/Marduk
Summary: King lures Marduk to his change room at the tournament for a surprise they’ll both enjoy.

Warnings: Yaoi, light bondage, intercrural sex.
Wordcount: 2,530

Disclaimer: I am making no profit from this fanfiction. I do not own King, Marduk, or Tekken.
Notes: This was originally a King/Lei fic, but I like King/Marduk better so I changed it up. (Still have a King+Lei friendship mystery fic in the works.)




Body Slam

Marduk struggled against his bonds, but the thick creak of leather reverberated along his arms as he tried to pull his arms down. As with the last five times he'd tried, they were still strong and tied to a pipe above his head and he wasn't getting out of there without some help... or a fight. He bowed his head and waited.

His relationship with King was usually straightforward and to the point. He wasn't opposed to playing a game every now and then, but the middle of a tournament was the last place Marduk was thinking about his dick. He was focused and intent on winning, even though the winners seemed to be the same every year (anyone tied to that Mishima clan), but even placing fourth had its benefits with corporate sponsors and adoring fans. He'd hoped to see King at the tournament, but their training schedules never seemed to mesh and once the matches proper had started, well, Marduk figured he'd run into his partner somewhere near the after party.

He should have had a shower after his match with Miguel. Had a shower and gone to his hotel room and gone to sleep and been fresh as a daisy for the next day. But the route to his change room was long and twisting and he'd become distracted when he’d spied a familiar luchadore mask on a bench in another change room. He'd peeked in to see if it was his friend and not another masked fighter, but the shower was on and the steam was piling up and drifting out into the hall.

He'd leaned in, then stepped inside. The air was thick and heavy and he was about to call out when a low growl behind him warned he'd already been found. He turned his head and caught a glimpse of King out of the corner of his eyes. He made to turn around and greet him, but something in the low growl made him pause. Wait it seemed to say, and Marduk waited.

He didn't like waiting. Didn't like being told what to do, but he trusted King. Was something going on? Were they being watched? Was an enemy near?

No. King retrieved the spare luchadore mask and slipped it over Marduk's head. The eyes were covered, leaving Marduk to rely on one less sense as he was guided into the shower, his arms raised above his head.

He questioned it once, but a firm, promising hand squeezing his shoulder was all he needed.

Their relationship was enduring even after so much time apart, and he'd missed spending time and wrestling with King, well, as much as he missed this. His cock perked up at the thought and Marduk grunted as his hands were bound above him and he was left to King's mercy.

“Hey, this better be good,” he said, his growl coming out more muffled by the luchadore mask. Marduk huffed and pulled against the straps once more. "Where are you, anyways?" He listened to King walk in front of him, his shoes squeaking slightly on the wet tile and the hot water continued to steam up the shower a few feet away.

Growling was the only response.

"You're lucky that I like you," Marduk laughed to himself. A warm growling chuckle rang in his ears and Marduk shuddered. That jaguar mask was still on and translating King’s voice into animalistic sounds. He didn't get the meaning, but he could still gather the tone implied.

“I did just finish a match,” Marduk said, trying to defend whatever ribbing he thought King was giving him. "Give me a break!"

He waited, panting. He started when he felt King move in close, their chests touching. There was a promise in the brush of skin. He was safe and this would be a reunion to be savoured.

Then, there was a sound beside him and Marduk tensed for what was to come. Then, he felt the spray of the shower raining down on him. Hot, steamy water filled his senses and soaked his clothes. He squirmed under the torrent, trying to avoid the water, but there was no refuge and he soon rested against the shower wall and waited; soaking wet, hot, and ready.

It felt like forever. The water struck him with stinging strength and Marduk tensed, anticipating King's patience far outweighed his own. He steadied his breathing, tensing his body for whatever torture King had planned. He didn't have to wait long. King's hands were on him, pressing against his soaked shirt and roughly handling him. Pulling his shirt apart and fumbling with the buttons. Why had he worn so many clothes to his match? They were uncomfortable, bunching and clinging, and he was acutely aware of the crease of fabric that pressed against his nipple, the tightening across his back, and the swelling of his manhood that was trapped against his wet thigh. Marduk twisted against his bonds as King rubbed him down, the spray continuing to soak him thoroughly.

Finally, those hands reached into his shirt, pulled sharply, and popped the buttons free. The shirt continued to cling to his chest, but now at least part of his skin was exposed and immediately set upon by rough fingers and scratching nails.

Marduk clenched his jaw and subtly trying to pull free of his bonds and move into the touch at the same time. The shirt was tugged again, this time ripping it further, revealing his chest and stomach. He was surrounded by steam. It filled his lungs, even under the mask, and he could feel how hot the water had become.

Marduk tried spreading his legs, forcing his trousers to move while stuck to his thighs, and send King a clear message. Quit fucking around already!

King seemed to understand and his hands were tugging his trousers a moment later. They were off him in a flash and Marduk grunted in satisfaction and frustration. His arousal was finally free, but the spray from the showerhead was sharp and strong and rained down on his sensitive flesh. It struck in full, hot droplets that trailed under the shaft and dropped off, trailing down to drop of his balls and he shuddered, spreading his legs further to try and... he didn't know what. Could he turn around? No, his hands were bound above him and revealing his ass would mean loosening the straps. Was King planning on fucking on him, or...

He jumped when he felt King’s hands on his legs, gesturing for him to put his legs together. He shifted, allowing this to happen, but it soon became clear that King wanted more. Not just together, but his ankles and knees tight together, his muscular thighs pressing against each other. He grudgingly did so and wondered what the fuck King had in mind. Not that the extra tightness wasn't pleasant, but how was this supposed to help them get off?

Then he felt the leather strap.

Marduk went still, his focus and attention centered on that piece of leather that snaked around one thigh and bound it to the other. Tight. His knees nearly buckled as he reveled in the restriction. He couldn’t spread his legs, and the tightness, restriction, it felt confining and he felt his cock twitch in anticipation.

The water continued pouring down him, his body sensitized and feeling every droplet of water as it hit him, like daggers, hard, sharp droplets that felt as if they pierced his skin, making it hot and red, his cock twitching in the onslaught and his entire body shivered in anticipation.

A loud blow sounded over the din of the shower and Marduk twitched when King slapped his thigh. “Hey! What are...?” A rough hand on his cock stole his complaints from his mouth and he sagged forward, allowing King access. A few strokes later and Marduk was panting. He was blinded. His lungs heaved in the humidity and the rush of water around him was white noise that blotted out other sounds, and even smell was lost to him as the humidity dulled even that. The only thing left was feeling, and his whole body was on alert as his cock was roughly stroked again and again.

“Fuck, yes... King…” he tried, but knew his words were probably lost between them. He tried to thrust forward, pushing his hips and bound thighs forward for more, and that’s when King dropped his cock and grabbed his hips, pulling forward as he felt something pressed between his thighs.

“Are you…?” he asked, then felt his knees go weak as he realize King was fucking him from the front, fucking his thighs. His knees pressed together and he flexed his thigh muscles, doing everything he could to tighten the feeling even more, and he was rewarded by a growl that somehow made it over the din and King’s hand returned to Marduk's dick.

Marduk thrust forward, giving King full access. It was incredible, and he found himself turned on by the stiffness that pushed its way between his legs, pushed in until he could feel King's abdomen pressed against his thighs. The shaft pulled out and pushed in again and again. Marduk rolled his hips, finding a rhythm that mirrored and seemed to delight his partner. The hand on his cock continued to move in time to the thrusting, and Marduk moaned behind the mask, the fingers on his shaft tightening whenever he squeezed his thighs.

It wouldn’t be long. King’s thrusting was coming in quick, short movements and Marduk tried to keep his muscles clenched. He ground forward, squeezing his thighs and ass and abdomen as he finally came, his cock trapped in King’s tight grip. He shuddered as the aftershocks ebbed and King stroked him slowly, milking the last drops from him and the water continued to fall, washing away his release.

Then it was King’s turn. He grabbed Marduk’s hips, pulling hard as he thrust against him and Marduk could feel it; the length, the head, the balls that slapped against him. King moved against him with one blatant goal and Marduk did what he could to meet him, thrusting back and squeezing hard.

The water rained down on them, but even the deafening spray was not enough to hide King’s sounds of release. The thrusting came in shorter, faster movements and then, a long, slow grind hard against him, and Marduk tensed, squeezing his thighs as hard as he could. He was blind to King’s release, but he paid attention to the little things, like the way his fingers dug into his hips, the way their chests slid against each other in a familiar, slick embrace, and the delicious hardness that twitched between his legs.

When it was done, Marduk hung limply from his bonds, waiting and listening. He felt King kneel before him, rubbing his thighs and cleaning any traces of semen from his legs before loosening the strap. King’s heat radiated from his body, washing over Marduk as he leaned close and reached up to loosen the straps on his hands. Marduk stumbled forward, bracing himself against King as he regained his footing and removed the mask. Together they exited to the change room where it was dry and the air was easier to breathe.

King offered Marduk a towel, all while wearing the jaguar mask. Marduk dried himself and looked at his friend, "How can you breathe in that thing?" He asked, gesturing to the mask.

A shrug and a head tilt was his reply.

Marduk grunted and rose to stand before his friend, fastening the towel around his hips as he did so. He knew King could speak, even though whatever magic was in the mask made his words sound like growling. “Well, I should go,” he said, straightening his back and half-smiling.

King’s voice growled through the mask, but was clear enough for Marduk to understand. “Let’s go to your room. Now.”

“Before or after your match against Bob that starts in…” Marduk made a show of looking at his watch-less wrist, “oh, maybe 30 minutes?” He couldn’t repress his shit-eating grin as he swore he saw King’s eyes bug out at the mention of his upcoming match.

“That’s tonight?” The growl sounded uncertain.

“Well, it’s not tomorrow morning. The 8pm winner fights the 5pm winner at 9am to determine who will fight the… fuck, who organizes the schedules at these things?”

“It was more organized in the earlier tournaments…” King sounded wistful, then shook his head and growled. “Los niños!”

“What?” Marduk watched as King slipped about the changeroom, quickly pulling on his kneepads and tripping over his wrestling speedos.

“The kids! Some children from my orphanage came to see me fight, but I haven’t arranged for someone to-- Ah, mierda!”

“You need a babysitter?”

King huffed and nodded. “The tournament organizers promised to arrange for one, but I need to give them enough notice…”

“Fuck it, I’ll watch them for you,” Marduk smacked him on the shoulder, feeling proud of himself for thinking to offer.

King looked at him and seemed to consider it. “Ok, but no swearing! You need to be a good example to them!”

“Aye, aye!” Marduk saluted. “Where do I find them?”

“They’re in my room, 513. Gracias, I’ll call up to let them know you’re coming. But…”

“But what?” Marduk felt his mood fall. He could watch a couple kids. Hell, he’d wanted to meet these kids of King’s. They were friends. He’d let him come between his legs, for christsakes. What more did he want???

“Put on some clothes first,” King gestured towards the towel.

Marduk looked down and the fight left him. “Oh, yeah, that wouldn’t be good. I’ll… ah, get changed and then grab them and bring them ringside!”

King finished tying the laces on his boots and stood, ready for his fight with only some water droplets on his mask betraying their shower tryst.

“Wait,” Marduk drew close, placing a hand on his shoulder. He fingered the bottom of the jaguar mask, eliciting a low growl as he peeled it up, away from his neck and over his chin, revealing his mouth that was slightly parted and panting.

A tongue licked at the lips and they smiled, “Craig, I should--”

Marduk didn’t let him finish as he moved in and took King in a kiss, sucking on his bottom lip before opening wider and inviting King’s tongue inside. They licked and sucked. It was delicious and hard and then it was over. Marduk rolled the mask back into place while looking at King intently. “I’ll see you ringside with the kids.”

King growled a thank you and then turned to leave. Marduk watched him go before scrambling to his own changeroom and then up to grab those kids. The kids. He’d never been good with kids, but then again, he’d never spent much time with them. Until that point their friendship/relationship had been about fighting, fucking, and guy stuff. Adding the kids to the mix… seemed as natural as a body slam.
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