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Their agreement fell slightly short of what Leon would call ordinary.
They weren't quite lovers, caught up in a secret whirlwind office romance, but equally, they weren't simply coworkers, limited to simple daily interaction at the beck and call of a coffee pot — calling it confusing would be an egregious understatement. Oftentimes, thinking about it for a moment too long would leave Leon’s head spinning, so much so that he just as often chose to forego thinking about it altogether.
It had started shortly after Leon had joined the force, being welcomed into the RPD with warm smiles, open arms, and perhaps a few wandering gazes, though it never bothered him. After all, how does one complain while all their hard work is paying off right before their eyes?
He’d been lucky enough to become familiar with what he considered the “right people” early on — the right people being, of course, the members of S.T.A.R.S, jealous as he might be of their special assignments. In particular, Chris Redfield had taken quite the liking to him — he’d often be accompanying the point man to his lunch breaks, or traveling to the S.T.A.R.S. office to be a familiar face amidst the agony of paperwork. Despite the teasing from the rest of the team, somehow, it just made sense.
He’d grown to be likable to the rest of the team quickly enough. He was a hard worker, usually choosing to add to his own workload to help someone out — Chris happily took advantage of this — and rather pleasant to be around, his ability to keep the office atmosphere lively called “one of his best features” by Jill Valentine after she’d seemingly been through a warzone of reports. It was simple, and flowed so well, it was almost as if he’d been there all along.
Captain Wesker, however, seemed unaffected by Leon’s charms and rookie eagerness to please during all this. At the time, Leon had been under the impression the captain hated him. The older man barely recognized his presence in the office, most often choosing to greet him with a curt “Officer Kennedy,” as he passed, or simply saying nothing at all.
“Don’t take it personally,” Chris had reassured him one day, patting his shoulder after seeing the younger man nearly deflate after Wesker passed behind him and left the office wordlessly. “It takes being thrown into a team with the man to get to know him.” Oversimplification, Leon knew, but he flashed the other man a smile and nodded regardless.
He tried his best to be comfortable with knowing not everyone would like him, try as he might. Even if the person in question not liking him was the tall, mysteriously handsome, unreadable captain of S.T.A.R.S., Albert Wesker.
That mentality didn't last very long. Before he could realize what he was doing, he’d begun to go out of his way to take paths the captain might take, being overly polite every time he happened to cross paths with the older man. After a while, greetings of “Good morning, sir,” or “Good afternoon, Captain Wesker,” became as comfortable on his tongue as a simple hello. The extra distance he’d have to cover to reach where he was actually going was worth it every time.
Wesker, ever observant, caught it almost immediately — though, if Leon was any more obvious he’d be confessing his attraction to him directly. It was almost cute, and intriguing if nothing else, the captain noting the way Leon’s eyes would follow him as he walked away, and the way Leon would tense up whenever he walked through the S.T.A.R.S. office. As time went on, he’d sometimes brush against the younger man through the door, or they’d “accidentally” brush fingers when Leon handed him paperwork.
The flush on Leon’s face every time only served to fuel Wesker’s growing interest. Needless to say, the captain had noticed.
“Officer Kennedy,” they found themselves approaching each other from opposite sides of the hall, the captain’s choice to acknowledge Leon first visibly taking the younger man aback. “We certainly see a lot of each other around the building. Surely running errands across the building must get tiring, no?”
Leon, entirely unprepared to receive more than a passing greeting from the man, paused and fiddled with the folder in his hands nervously. “Well… it gets me used to the layout. Helps me meet everyone, too.” To his credit, it wasn’t a lie — he was learning the layout, and he was meeting people. Wesker just didn't need to know that most of it happened weeks ago.
The taller man sat with the answer, his face staying neutral as he pondered a response — meaning, he watched Leon squirm as the silence went on. Relenting after only a few moments longer than necessary, however, he gave a gentle nod. “I suppose it never hurts to become familiar with your full surroundings in a new position.. though, I imagine the team’s penchant for passing their paperwork along to you has you chained to S.T.A.R.S. and the surrounding areas more often than you’d like.”
“It’s really not a big deal. Sir.” Leon hastily responded, the folder in his hands now receiving a tighter grip. “I don’t mind being in the office, as long as it’s okay for me to be there.. I’m usually helping somebody out, not just S.T.A.R.S. I think Chris and Jill are just the loudest about it.”
Subtle ask for permission ignored, Wesker puffed a quick breath out through his nose, and Leon figured it was the closest thing to a laugh as he’d get from the captain. “Yes, that would make sense. The office is well aware of the pair they make by now.” Leon appeared less tense following the captain’s words, his shoulders relaxing and the folder held less snug to his chest. Wesker cleared his throat, ending the small talk before the officer had a chance to speak. “Officer Kennedy, I’m certain I don’t have to remind you of your nearly one month here. I assume Lieutenant Branagh has informed you of your upcoming check-in?”
Leon nodded tentatively, a small, naïve voice in the back of his mind suddenly telling him he was in trouble. “Yes, sir.”
The older man remained neutral. “Though it’s short notice, I have some free time in my schedule today. Lieutenant Branagh informed me of some personal matters he needs to attend to. Considering I’ve seen just as much of you, I told him I would meet with you in his stead.” Personal matters, in this case, meaning Wesker had requested the meeting be his task instead of Marvin’s, claiming interest in getting to know the new members of the force. “Would you care to follow me to my office?”
Leon fidgeted subconsciously, his heart beginning to beat faster, though the folder in his hand all of a sudden felt heavier. “Well, Sir, I was just about to run these reports--”
“The papers can wait, Officer Kennedy. No reasonable officer would give anything urgent to the force’s errand boy. In any case, we’ll finish quickly so you can be on your way.” Wesker stepped behind Leon to guide him forward via a hand on the small of his back, and, fearful he’d let a rather undignified noise slip, Leon wordlessly walked alongside the captain.
Wesker’s hand remained on him as they walked, the silence hanging over them — or, maybe just him, seeing as the older man’s face was unchanged — like a thick fog. Leon wasn't sure when his plan had started working so well, but he was in no way complaining. Wesker guided him carefully, but aptly, to the door of the S.T.A.R.S. office, his hold on Leon firm as he ushered him through the door.
He had little time to think about Chris and the team’s questioning eyes on him, instead being released from Wesker’s hold as the captain stepped into the office. Leon hurriedly followed him in. The door closing and locking behind them ripped Leon from his thoughts, instead leaving him to face Wesker as the man stepped next to him.
“If I may,” he offered, gently taking the folder from Leon and placing it on the far edge of his desk, positioning himself to rest against the opposite edge. He gestures to a chair pushed neatly against the office wall closest to the desk. “You may sit, if you’d like.”
Leon complies easily, resting his hands on his lap as he sits. Doing his best to sit up straight, he lightly clears his throat and meets Wesker’s gaze expectantly. The older man says nothing, however, simply staring at him from behind his sunglasses, his demeanor unchanging, and Leon suddenly wishes he had more layers than his uniform. It felt as though Wesker was examining him, taking him apart bit by bit with eyes he couldn't even see. He almost says something, almost asks if something’s wrong, but as if the older man could read his mind, he lifts himself off the desk just as he opened his mouth.
“It’s a rather unconventional path I take around the building, you know,” he starts, stepping forward slowly. “Not many others travel the same way I do, perhaps to avoid potentially being in my way. Imagine my surprise when you, Officer Kennedy, suddenly start to appear more often in the parts of the building I frequent. New officers aren't usually so keen on closeness with people in my position.”
Leon feels the blood drain from his face. “Sir, I…”
“It would be easy to conclude you must be busy, seeing as you more often possess someone else’s work than work that is truly your own. Be that as it may, I don’t blame you — reputation is everything amongst your peers.” The captain’s voice deepened, likely unnoticeable to anyone else, though instantly sending a spark to Leon’s core. “It's harder, however, to ignore someone going out of their way to cross paths with you.”
Busted. Leon isn't sure what to say. In his often inappropriately occupied little brain, he thought he was being smart — though, he gives in to apologizing with very little convincing. “I’m sorry Sir, I just-- I have a lot of respect for S.T.A.R.S., and you as Captain, so I was--”
“Leon.” Wesker’s tone is a warning, his voice smooth as he stills in front of the younger man. He grabs his chin between his gloved thumb and pointer finger, tilting the officer’s face up delicately. “Did you think I wouldn't notice you following me around like a lost puppy?”
Leon’s certain anything he could think to say would come out as whimpers rather than words. He flushes, jaws clamped together and skin burning where Wesker held him, albeit only for a moment before he pulls away. The older man chooses to instead round the corner of his desk, sitting in his office chair and turning to the officer.
“Come.” He gestures with two fingers to the spot in front of him, and a soft whine tears its way from Leon’s throat, sealing the deal.
Marvin receives an official meeting note from Wesker slightly past an hour after he and Leon had gone into the captain’s office, convincing him the meeting had gone off without a hitch. Which was, in a way, true — of course, no notes included the parts about Wesker holding Leon in his lap, gloved fingers stroking the younger man’s t-dick til tears fell from overstimulation, shirt unbuttoned and slid off one shoulder to leave faint teeth imprints and marks at the juncture of the officer’s neck and shoulder. Leon falling apart, reduced to a teary-eyed, desperate mess in his hands was for him, and him alone.
Leon had departed from the office after about an hour, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, walking swiftly to attempt avoiding looking Chris or any of the team in the eyes.
⠀
⠀
It became natural, for the two of them — Wesker led, and Leon followed. Wesker was right, reputation was everything — and if Leon’s reputation was as Wesker’s lapdog, he wasn't too sure he cared.
So when office rendezvous, like Leon hidden under the desk, head bobbing in Wesker’s lap as the older man held his hair with a fist, or Wesker draping Leon over the desk after hours, fucking into him earnestly to relieve tension of the day, turned into meetings at the older man’s residence — Leon’s cramped apartment was hardly equipped for company — he hadn't been too unnerved. It made sense to him at the time, agreeing that it was probably easier to meet at one of their houses to avoid having to be secretive, skirting around office schedules and sanitation.
What had confused Leon, though, was the domesticity of it all, if it could even be called domesticity, with a man like Wesker. It had been evident from the start that it was a physical relationship — a little stress relief here and there with no strings attached, and Leon was fine with that. Even after a short while of their arrangement, when Wesker had taken a liking to praising him as “his good dog” or snaking his arm around the officer’s waist to pull him close when they had a moment alone, Leon had reminded himself to not expect too much.
Really, he had accepted it. He'd accepted the way his heart would swell, only to feel it shrink whenever the captain had to leave. He supposed he was setting himself up for it, engaging in a "workplace romance" — though, considering the lack of traditional romance, he wasn't quite certain what to call it. For all intents and purposes, it was a fling, but... why did the captain shower him with so much affection?
He'd convinced himself he had ignored it successfully, just as he did every time. He was able to keep himself convinced, only until he would remember his position, sitting in Wesker's home, nearly salivating over the mere visual of the man barely feet away from him.
He'd lingered behind at Wesker's dining room table, empty plates residing in front of his — unofficial, of course — and the captain's respective seats. Wesker lounged, book in hand, opposite Leon in his living room, leaned back in a dark leather club chair. An informational program came quietly from the TV, something scientific Leon didn't particularly care about. The older man's body language was entirely lax, his attention focused solely on his book and the occasional interesting sound byte from the television. Leon had never hated science books and television more than he did right now.
This went against their routine — though, he noticed their meetings often had in recent times. A typical evening, for them, looked like a light dinner, conversation with some not-so-hidden subtext, and retreating to the older man’s bedroom. Leon felt it worked quite well — Wesker seemed to feel, though, that his book was a necessary addition to this routine.
He had tried to ask once before — curiosity getting the better of him, he'd glanced at the title of the book and tilted it slightly out of the captain's grasp to glimpse the pages. Wesker had simply lifted his hand up and away, explaining it was nothing that pertained to the officer, nothing he needed to worry himself over. At the time, the lack of an answer had worried the younger man, though he eventually decided to try to start being more interesting than whatever the book contained. It had worked, then.
Currently, Wesker seemed as though he had no plans to remove himself from his position. Leon tried not to let it hurt him. He tried not to overthink it, telling himself it was simply a moment to relax, allowing them to settle with themselves and their meal ahead of why they knew Leon was here. He repeated it to himself, attempting to keep his eyes trained on the television. Instead, try as he might to be casual, his eyes could burn holes through the side of Wesker’s head, feeling entirely too small from his place in the kitchen.
Waiting was never his favorite, and the older man had taken to making him do just that. Wesker knew Leon would eventually come, just as he always did — it was merely a waiting game, seeing how long the younger man could hold off before giving in, before losing himself in his desire. It was his own little test — experiment, if you will — and watching, through the corner of his eye, Leon squirm under the weight of his racing thoughts until he snapped, was simply his prize for pushing the officer.
It was a masterful plan, really — throughout the day, he’d maneuver himself close to the younger man, leaving burning touches along his waist, under his shirt, brushing over the swell of his ass in passing moments. Leon would swoon, as he always did, practically tripping over himself to follow each and every lingering touch. Then, as the pair reunited at Wesker’s home in the evening, he’d go cold — simple responses, no particularly lasting touches, or none at all, if he could help it. Leon had been confused the first few times, assuming the worst, as was his nature. Wesker had taken care in those moments to ease him into it gently, assuring him there was nothing wrong, and it was simply another night. He’d said he’d been tired, he said he’d been feeling unwell — if it got Leon to lower his guard, he’d said it. Every time was just as entertaining as the last.
It was almost beautiful, watching Leon go from feeling cherished to throwing himself at the older man, all in such a short time. In Leon’s mind, he was constantly either loved or unloved, and despite his initial reservations, his desperation and desire for the captain’s touch always came first. On a more conventional evening, he'd often inch closer to the older man, bit by bit, satisfied only when he had himself tucked under Wesker’s arm, nuzzling into the fabric between deep inhales.
He was careful in how he approached the younger man. In this specific circumstance, he desired the results come to him naturally — it wasn't always the correct approach, but Leon responded best when presented with something to long for. Feeling Leon’s eyes on him, he slowly removed his attention from his reading, making a show of closing the book and setting it on the side table. He rose in an equally unhurried manner, adjusting his sunglasses on his nose, then turning to make his way into the kitchen.
His journey to the refrigerator was simple, casual; he stepped into the kitchen, elbow ghosting along Leon's shoulders as he passed, then retrieving himself a glass to fill with water. At no point did he turn to acknowledge the younger man. Once having what he needed, he turned on his heel and resumed his prior position, book noticeably absent. Leon should have everything he needs to make a move by now.
He never lasted long. Any minute now, he would…
Heavy footsteps gave him his answer. As Leon planted himself in Wesker’s lap, fanning his neck with hot breath and rolling his hips forcefully down onto the captain’s, he held back a smirk, knowing he’d won yet again. “Feeling needy, are we?”
“Just want you to touch me,” Leon breathed, wrapping his arms around Wesker’s neck and dropping his head into his shoulder. “Want you so bad.. been thinking about you all day.”
Quite forward this time. Wesker’s hands settled on Leon’s hips, guiding them against his own as the younger man whimpered and panted into his skin. Leon’s thighs, space limited by the arms of the chair, rest heavily on either side of his own. He tilted his head up, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing blue eyes. “Oh? Pup can't even focus when he’s supposed to be working anymore?” Leon groaned at that, hiding his face further in Wesker’s shoulder. His desperate noises never ceased, however, causing the older man to frown and pull Leon's head back by his hair. “I asked you a question, mutt. I expect an answer.”
Leon whined, his hands around Wesker’s neck balling into fists. “N-no…” The remaining hand on his hip stilled him, and he almost protested at the loss of friction. Mere moments, and his head already felt stuffed full of fluff.
“My, what a rude dog you are. Already forgotten manners, have we?” Wesker’s voice was firm, eyes locked on the younger man’s as he tried to shy away from the grip. “No what?”
“No, sir,” Leon whimpered, trying his hardest to buck his hips, to gain any kind of friction at all. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Wesker hummed, his gloved grip in Leon’s hair loosening. The younger man fell back into his shoulder almost immediately. He began to guide Leon’s hips again, though much slower than before, the younger man protesting the loss of friction with a weak whine but complying easily. Leon knew the rules — if he was to disobey, forget the rules, or act out, he would earn his pleasure back. Wesker withdrew his hand on Leon’s hip, instead choosing to run it up his shirt, fingers finding the edge of his binder and rolling it between his fingers, feeling himself hastily filling out within the confines of his pants.
“Take this off,” the captain instructed, tugging Leon’s shirt to direct him. Leon shuddered in response, sitting back and still on his knees to grab his shirt by the hem. Wesker’s hand resumed its place on his hip, moving him into grinding his hips down. “I didn't say stop. Stupid dogs don’t listen. You can be good for me, can’t you?”
Leon nodded desperately, grinding his hips down against Wesker’s clothed cock at a pathetic pace. If Wesker was feeling more strict, he would force Leon off him and deny him altogether, but, recalling his particularly mean treatment this morning — pinning the younger man against his office wall and letting him grind against his knee, just to deny him release as the rest of the team arrived — he relented. Leon’s shirt slipped over his head, the officer folding it as well as possible given his condition, and dropping it over the side of the chair, as was routine.
“There you go,” Wesker purred, running his hands along the bare skin of Leon’s stomach. “I knew you could be good for me. Binder too, pup.”
Leon reached to his left side, undoing the hooks holding the fabric together one by one. As it slowly released, he did the same thing he did with the shirt, dropping the fabric to lay neatly over the shirt on the floor. He couldn't help feeling a little bit shy — he still was, most of the time — but Wesker saw him no differently, and he knew that. Wesker rewarded him by grabbing his chin, gently bringing his head down to place a feather-light kiss to his lips, Leon predictably trying to chase the connection.
“Don’t get greedy now.” The corner of Wesker’s mouth tugged up into a smile as he found himself quite pleased with Leon’s current state. He started at the base of Leon’s neck, trailing kisses down towards his collarbones, and then to his chest. The younger let out a few soft moans, a hand coming up to hold the back of Wesker’s head for stability. Generous as he was, the captain chose to allow it, at least for a moment. He sucked faint bruises into Leon’s skin as he moved, leaving gentle bite marks in the empty spots. Pulling back when satisfied, he lifted his head to meet the younger man’s gaze.
Leon already looked wrecked. Clearly the waiting had taken a toll on him, and Wesker almost had it in him to feel bad. Almost.
He reached up to grope Leon’s chest with his right hand, earning a particularly forceful grind of the officer’s hips against his own. They groaned in unison, though Leon drowned him out easily, too lost in his own pleasure to pay too much attention. He moved his hand away to instead snap, his index finger pointing towards the floor. “Enough. Down.”
Leon clambered off his lap, maneuvering to sit between Wesker’s newly spread legs. The older man sat up, lightly ruffling Leon’s hair as he settled on the backs of his legs. “Good boy.” Leon eased into the touch, his head falling forward to rest on the captain’s thigh. He nosed at the fabric, inching closer by the second — a silent ask for permission, which Wesker happily granted. “Go ahead.”
Leon lit up instantly, reaching up with both hands to grab hold of Wesker’s pants, keeping a steady hold with one and unzipping with the other. He gently pulled Wesker’s cock out of his pants, hard and standing at attention, practically drooling at the sight alone.
Leon waited, as patiently as could be expected from him currently, til Wesker gave him a nod to begin. He’d almost never been more excited to do anything in his life, and it showed in the way his gentle kitten licks at the tip swiftly turned into licking stripes up the shaft from the base. Wesker chuckled, reaching out to cup Leon’s cheek in his palm. “Pace yourself, pup.”
Leon whined softly, but obeyed anyway. He lifted his head back to the tip, lapping gently at the slit and swirling his tongue around. Wesker sighed, his hand on Leon’s cheek rising to card through the younger man’s hair. Leon worked diligently, suckling on the head of his length in between lapping at his slit and gently bobbing his head. The captain's approval showed in the way he sighed, gloved hand lingering on Leon’s head for stability in between giving him gentle pets. Leon’s arousal pooled in his gut, and he moaned as he began to slide further down Wesker’s length, enveloping him in his hot mouth.
He flattened his tongue along the shaft as he bobbed, drawing appreciative huffs from the captain above him. He slurped and sucked with every movement, filling the room with their obscene sounds and their shared pleasured exhales, Leon’s skin feeling hot at every place Wesker touched him.
Every so often, Wesker’s gloved hand gave the younger’s head a pointed push, keeping the pace steady and urging him to go farther. “That’s it,” he breathed, head falling back to rest on the back of the chair. Leon reached up, stroking the parts of Wesker’s length his mouth wasn't yet reaching. His own impatience bubbled up inside him, but, trying his best to be good, he forced himself to open up gradually, though Wesker had trained him well enough to be able to take him almost fully in one go. Just thinking about it made Leon’s arousal feel like it was going to burn a hole through his stomach, and he whined pathetically around the captain’s cock. At that, Wesker stifled a groan, his grip on Leon’s hair tightening for all of one moment. “My pet knows precisely what he’s good for, hm?”
He glances up at the clothed captain above him through lidded eyes and lashes, feeling particularly bare — though only naked from the top half — under the man’s intense gaze. Leon moans around him again, and Wesker shoves him down, a full, throaty groan rising from his chest.
He adjusts to the new pace easily, swallowing around the cock in his mouth as he goes down to the hilt, relishing in finally being able to take him in fully. He slid along him with ease, grinding his cunt down against nothing, whining and so desperate for friction as the older guides his head with almost as much eagerness as he felt. His eyelashes weighed down with unshed tears as time went on, his whimpers and moans around Wesker growing more needy and debauched with every passing second.
Wesker’s breathing became labored, more unfiltered noises of pleasure slipping past his lips as his climax grew closer. As unaffected as he tried to act, Leon always knew exactly how to bring him right to the precipice. “I want you to swallow, pup,” he murmured, his eyes shut tight and his bottom lip gently tugged between his teeth. “Show me how badly you want it, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Leon needed no more convincing. He took Wesker down to the hilt, swallowing around him pointedly and whining. At that, Wesker grunts and shoots down his throat in thick ropes, holding Leon’s head down with a hand tangled in the hair on the back of his head. He rides out his orgasm, Leon’s mouth burning hot and milking him for everything he’s worth. Leon’s hands shoot up to grip at his thighs, breathing heavily through his nose as well as he’s able — though, the longer Wesker holds him, the more air he steals from him. Leon tries not to panic, but his hands begin to weakly scratch at Wesker’s thighs, the wetness in his eyelashes finally breaking as tears fall.
After a few heavy moments, Leon was released, coughing and sucking in deep breaths as well as he could. Wesker’s stare never left him for a second, his gaze dark and looming. “Show,” he ordered, sitting up straighter in his seat. Leon, having carefully paused to regain his breath, opened his mouth and let his tongue hang out. Wesker gave him a pleased hum, reaching out to pet him with both hands.
Leon followed his touch desperately, his neglected cunt aching between his legs now at the forefront of his mind. He bucks up against nothing again, drawing Wesker’s attention with a tut. “Needy puppy.”
Leon nods pathetically, wet cheeks nuzzling into Wesker’s hands. “Want it so bad. Please, please sir..”
Though he has every intention to grant his pet’s wish, Wesker sees the opportunity arise, and he simply can’t help himself. “Is that so? Do you think you deserve it?”
Leon’s eyes widen, and he starts tearing up again. He is gone. Wesker considers for a moment that he might have pushed too far, but after all, he’s not broken yet, and the way Leon begs helps him feel convinced. “P-please, sir, I was so good! I waited all day and-- I worked so hard, I need it, and you said--”
“I decide what you need, mutt. If I say we stop, then we stop.” He looks to Leon for an answer, choosing to accept the desperate nod he gets in return. He feels himself twitch, already springing back to life. The things this man can do to him are remarkable. “You are right, though. You have been very good for me, and I intend to keep my word.”
He tucks himself back into his pants, then partially rising and holding his hand out to snap. “Up.”
Leon rises with him slowly, knees wobbling as he does. Wesker holds on to Leon’s elbows, planting a chaste kiss to his temple as he steadies the younger man, letting him catch his breath properly. They stay like that for a moment, Leon’s eyes falling closed while Wesker caresses his arms. “Let’s move to my room, pup.”
Leon nods, his eyes following Wesker as he steps away from the couch. They walk close together across the living area and to the stairs, though Wesker stops at the foot and grabs Leon’s arm to stop him as well. “Go first, I will join you shortly. I expect you to have everything off by the time I’m there, and do not touch.”
Wesker’s voice grew deeper as he spoke, and Leon shivered. “Yes, sir,” he ascended the stairs swiftly, beelining for the captain’s room once he was on the second floor.
Reaching the first door, he turned the handle and slipped inside. He walked to the center of the room, turning to rest against the bed and reach up to undo his pants. He shucked his pants and soaked boxers off in one go, whining as the cold air hit his neglected cock. He adjusted to lay back on the bed with his legs spread. His hand ghosted over his thigh with the thought of touching himself, lingering for a moment as he considered his odds — the captain wouldn't know, right? — but, wanting to be good, he shoved it under the pillows instead.
As if by divine luck, only then did a shirtless Wesker open the door, glasses seemingly discarded, a pleased hum escaping him at the sight he was greeted with. “That’s a good dog,” he purred, audibly setting objects down on his dresser, shedding his pants and boxers to then drape them neatly over the dresser's unoccupied half. He languidly closes the distance between Leon and himself.
He ran a hand up Leon’s body starting from his thighs, stopping when he reached his neck. He wrapped a — now bare — hand around Leon’s neck, pressing lightly on the sides but not quite restricting airflow. He briefly surveyed Leon’s form, seemingly checking him for ability to continue, then letting his hand travel back down Leon’s body to pump his t-dick with his thumb and index finger. Leon keens, back arching off the bed, relief washing over him as he’s finally touched.
Wesker takes pity on him, continuing his pumps for a few seconds as Leon writhes beneath him. He bends down to press a kiss to Leon’s bare stomach, adjusting his hand to trail lower, gathering the wetness between Leon’s folds as he does. He shallowly dips a finger into his hole, then pushing in fully and gently beginning to thrust it. Leon’s predictably pent up, so in very little time he works up to three fingers, scissoring and stretching them to open Leon up — though, the officer’s eagerness to keep himself ready always came to mind in these moments. The younger moans unabashedly beneath him, rolling back onto the captain’s fingers. “Dear boy,” Wesker coos, pumping his fingers in and out for only a heartbeat longer before removing them. “You’ve been so patient.”
He reaches for the items set on the dresser's surface, grabbing the bottle of lube, as well as the condom he laid next to a bottle of water. He uses his slick-coated fingers to stroke himself back to full hardness, swiftly filling out beneath his hand — he normally had impressive stamina, anyway, but he and Leon's time spent together seemed to shave time off with every meeting. He then makes quick work of the package, rolling the condom onto himself and a few drops of lube as extra. He doesn't bother to put them back, simply dropping the bottle and torn package onto the bed.
He lines himself up with Leon’s entrance, pausing as he rests his hands on the officer’s hips. “Ready, pup?” Leon nods so hard, Wesker jokingly thinks he could hear his brains rattling along with it. “Pl-eeease…”
Wesker pushes in, punching the air from Leon’s chest as he bottoms out in one slow, smooth motion. He sinks into him, inch by inch, stopping only when their hips are flush together, their skin much burning where it meets, yet sending delicious sparks of arousal down to his core. Leon trembles underneath him, dizzy from the feeling of finally being full. “Ohhhh my god..” He breathes, squeezing hard around Wesker when he’s fully seated.
“Manners.” Wesker says calmly, his hands pressing lightly into Leon’s hips. The younger man moans desperately, laying one of his hands over the captain’s. “A-ah.. thank you, sir…” He chokes out, eyes squeezed shut to help him concentrate on the words leaving his mouth. Wesker generously gives him a moment to catch his breath and refocus, watching intently the way Leon’s expression changes rapidly with every inhale, quiet whimpers and thanks spilling from his lips before he can think to stop them.
When Leon’s ready, he lifts a leg, wrapping it around Wesker’s waist to pull him closer. The captain takes the hint, pulling his himself out all the way to the head before slamming back in, fucking Leon deep and slow to start off. Wesker watches himself disappear inside of Leon, letting a deep moan rise from his chest. “You feel so good around me, pup,” he purrs, hard thrusts ripping staccato cries from the man under him.
Though it was more praise than he'd normally give, it was true — Leon felt lovely every time, hugging him like he was shaped to perfectly fit Wesker and Wesker alone.
He wills himself into keeping composure, though with every glide of himself against Leon’s walls, suffocating him in, he considers discarding any patience he has and pounding into Leon like an animal. This was always part of their game — Leon would be good for him, oh, so good, the younger man’s desire and need growing in him until the captain could practically feel it radiating off him. How could Wesker, pretty and pliant boy all but melting into a puddle of his own arousal before him, resist becoming equally pent up himself? It was infectious, and before long, the slow strokes he’d kept himself to were simply not enough.
Wesker swiftly builds in pace, Leon’s wet heat sucking him in so well like he was built for it, like he was made only for taking his cock so far he could nearly see it through his flesh. The sounds of their skin meeting fills the room, though barely audible over Leon’s sobs — the man is wrecked, free hand fisting the sheets below him as his hand over Wesker’s on his hip digs his nails into the older man’s skin. “F-fuck, fuck, hah…”
Wesker bends over to lean over Leon, beginning to pepper his chest, covered in bite marks and hickeys, with kisses, pausing to lightly suck at some spots. One hand slides up to thread under his frame, supporting the arch of his back. Leon raises a hand of his own to cup Wesker’s face, crashing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue, remnants of himself still present in the taste. Wesker swallows Leon’s needy, fucked out noises with every kiss, something close to a growl rumbling deep in his throat. His pace is bruising, his grip on Leon’s hip equally so — by this time tomorrow, Leon’s hips will have his hand prints still visible, and though obstructed from view by uniform, the marks on his chest proving him to be utterly claimed.
Leon breaks the kiss first, his head weakly dropping back onto the bed and lolling to the side, exposing his neck. Like a predator claiming his prey, he takes the opportunity in front of him, sucking and biting and trailing marks up the side of Leon’s neck. Leon positively howls, cunt squeezing around Wesker’s cock like he’s trying to suffocate him. Wesker’s hot breath fans over Leon’s neck, the captain’s breathing ragged in his ear. His moans and cries never cease, only mildly hitching as he’s jolted along the bed from the force of Wesker’s thrusts.
Leon, as expected, doesn't last much longer. His gut is on fire, melting him from the inside out as his orgam barrels toward him unforgivingly. “Oh g-god, gonna-- hhah-- p-please let me cum!” He begs, brain closer to becoming mush the closer he gets to his climax. Wesker hums thoughtfully, eliciting a wail from Leon at the denial. “Please who?” He grunts, his pace never faltering.
“Pl-please sir!” He cries, trembling thighs squeezing Wesker’s waist hard as an attempt at keeping his orgasm at bay. Wesker coos at the display. Leon’s desire to be good for him, to be his good dog, outweighed everything else, even his own release — the thought alone shot white hot arousal through the captain’s body, the hand on Leon’s hip gripping him hard enough to bruise.
Then, Wesker trails biting, open mouthed kisses up to his ear, nipping the shell as he murmurs, “Cum for me, pup.”
Leon cums on the spot, moaning and wailing as he convulses under the older man. He honestly thinks he blacks out for a few seconds, garbled noises and words of thanks tumbling from his lips at record speed. He comes undone in waves, head positively spinning.
His hole clenches around Wesker repeatedly, though the captain’s rhythm only falters slightly — and as Leon slowly comes back down to earth, he realizes he hasn't stopped at all, fucking him through and past his climax unrelentingly. Leon squirms under him, trying to get away from the relentless pace, but Wesker is having none of it and holds him in place firmly.
“T-too much… can’t…” Leon sobs, tears beginning to stream down his face. Wesker growls, holding the younger’s body close to his own as he fucks into him brutally. “You can, and you will.”
Leon cries, but raises his hands to wrap around Wesker, nails digging crescent shaped wounds into the flesh of his back. Wesker drills into him as the coils in his own abdomen threaten to snap, groaning and panting quietly against the skin of Leon’s neck. “So good, so good for me..”
The hand on Leon’s hip slides down to the younger man’s cock, beginning to stroke him in time with his thrusts. “I know you’ve got one more in you, my good dog,” he coaxes, Leon beginning to babble senselessly as his tears keep flowing. He practically thrashes under the captain, all but screaming as Wesker urges a second orgasm to hit him like a freight train. His nails drag down Wesker’s back, the man over him hissing into his ear, though if he disliked the sensation he made no mention of it.
He only lasts a few more thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, rutting into the officer as he empties himself into the condom. Leon shakes like a leaf under him, sobbing softly and completely spent, his legs falling weakly to rest back on the bed. He holds Wesker like he’ll drift off if he lets go, and Wesker lets him.
He and Leon pant heavily as they come down together, Leon sniffling and nuzzling his face into Wesker’s neck. The arm under Leon aches, but he withstands the pain for a long moment, the two relishing in the warmth and comfort of their connected bodies.
Eventually, the sweat coating both of them grows to be unpleasant, and Wesker thinks his arm might fall off if he doesn't adjust it. He begins to lift himself off to move, Leon whining and clinging to him to prevent him from doing so. He presses a kiss to Leon’s marked neck. “I have to move, pup,” Leon whines again, but slowly unwraps himself from the captain. He lays back, Wesker sliding his arm out from under him as he does. Leon’s eyes flutter closed immediately, his breathing still stabilizing as he relaxes.
Wesker reaches up to the dresser, grabbing the bottle of water. He then props Leon’s head up with one hand, holding the bottle to his lips with the other. When the younger man doesn't immediately drink, he whistles to grab the officer’s attention. “Come back to me, dear heart.”
A mumbled “Hm?” is all he gets as response, though when he tilts the bottle Leon downs about a third of it once he realizes what it is. Wesker hums approvingly, offering a gentle “Good boy,” and placing the bottle back on the dresser. He retrieves the lube and wrapper from the bed as well, shifting Leon slightly to rest his head on the pillows and straighten him out. The lube joins the bottle on the dresser, and the condom and wrapper the trash can as he retrieves a wet towel to tidy up.
As he returns, Leon has fallen asleep — he prefers it that way, considering it lets him work undisturbed, and keep up somewhat of an image. He cleans Leon up as necessary, wiping his sweat with the dry part of the towel, then covers the officer up with the blanket. His gaze lingers on him for a moment longer than he feels is necessary, though he quickly turns away. He cleans himself up a bit, then takes the towel to the laundry.
As he comes back in, Leon whines — no doubt, wanting the captain to join him under the covers — and he sighs, rounding the corner of the bed to slide himself under. He presses himself to Leon’s back, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s frame. It’s too hot, much too hot, but Leon presses closer to him, contented noises tumbling out as he gets comfortable.
They’ll stay like that for a while, like they always do. Then, Wesker will leave, as he always does. It’s a peculiar arrangement they have, a little bit too out there to be normal — but through everything, Leon is becoming his, day by day, and Wesker is a possessive man at his best. He has no interest in sharing his pet.