Archive of Our Own

“As you wish.”

Krauser’s reflection blurs in the wicked curve of his sharpened knife, the image consumed by inky shadows, before the darkness lifts and Leon becomes aware of his surroundings again. The mechanical jerk of the elevator makes his stomach swoop with a sudden return of sensation. Trying to gather his bearings, blood rushes in his ears at the unsettling vision of his former Major and though Leon may have lost his faith long ago, he still finds himself praying that it was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

The crawling squirming beneath his sternum persists, as he struggles to his feet, light-headed and shaking from the pain racing down his spine and along his ribcage. The blackened, creeping veins along his arms stare back at him mockingly, stark against the washed-out shade of his skin, while Leon has to brace himself against the wall of the elevator, so as not to collapse under another searing cramp. It feels like the parasite is scraping out his insides, hollowing him to make space for its growing body, every twitch and spasm of the invading organism followed by excruciating agony.

The thought of it, sickens him, stomach protesting evermore but Leon swallows the bile down, righting his posture just as the elevator reaches its destination. Once the lattice doors have ground open with the screeching sound of metal, he’s greeted by the unexpected sight of Luis Serra, posed casually against some metal beam. A suave grin spreads on his face, intelligent eyes taking in the dishevelled sight Leon must make, as he raises one hand to shake a rectangular box at him.

The contents rattle softly against their confines, as he winks and says: “I’ll make it cheap for you.”

Dread swallows him up.

Leon’s heart sinks, as he becomes suddenly aware of his own damning destitution, resources depleted in his fight against Ramon’s lapdog, Pesetas long gone and the weapons on his back the only thing standing between him and certain death. There’s nothing left to spare but Leon needs that medication, if not for himself, then for Ashley. If he can’t pay him, he’ll have to find another way to make up for it, whatever it may take.

Leon steps forward, intent to exit the elevator, when his legs threaten to buckle, once he can’t lean on his arm for support. The sudden episode must’ve taken a greater toll on his body than expected. Having caught himself, there’s still an unmistakable unsteadiness to his gait. It must show in the way he holds himself, or the persistent shake in his thighs, judging by how Luis’ face falls, hands sinking back down to his sides.

“I don’t have money on me, but I can–” He’s about to make an offer, when his lungs suddenly seize.

The breath catches in his throat, Leon doubling over, clutching at his chest, as his mouth gapes uselessly. He can’t breathe, diaphragm constricting to force any air out. A ringing fills his head, the pressure in his sinuses increasing, with the renewed activity of the parasite inside him. All efforts to stay upright are for naught, his abused knees collapsing, once a violent contraction rips through his abdomen. He just about has the wherewithal to catch himself, while his body fights back against the serrated tendrils of the parasite coiling around his muscles and wriggling between his neurons to puppeteer him, like all the rest of Saddler’s victims.

The wheezing cough he manages between the all encompassing pain, fills his mouth with a thick metallic warmth, the deep crimson liquid spilling over his lips to ooze to the rough stone flooring. The suffocating pressure on his sternum releases. Leon gasps, respirating some of his own mucus, only to hack up more blood, as his lungs deflate. The inside of his chest feels like it’s filled with broken glass, every inhale accompanied by a cutting sharpness, causing him to devolve into quick, shallow breaths. It’s not enough though, he can see the black veins twine along the length of his fingers, as his sore muscles begin to lock up entirely.

The dull thud of his head hitting stone buzzes through his skull, then his vision whites out. The pain encompasses him so thoroughly, he momentarily forgets everything else, jaw clenched tight, as he seizes, before there’s suddenly a hard grip on his upper arm.

“I see, it’s worse than I thought.”

The contractions skittering away with the sensation of ants rushing along his arms, leaves him disoriented. There’s no telling where up, or down is, as he’s being dragged along by someone, his head dangling limply from his neck, disconnected from the ruinous state his body is in. He can hear voices, beneath the one keeping up a low murmur, as unfamiliar hands roam his spasming limbs.

They’re beckoning him, sweeter than Saddler’s serpent tongued talk of salvation, a thousand mandibled mouths like a choir of angels, insectoid wings buzzing so loudly he can barely hear his own thoughts. He’s hesitant to follow the ethereal noise, despite their soothing whispers sounding like one of the devout prayers of his childhood. Something is off about this apparition, something Leon can’t quite put his finger on, but still knows is wrong.

‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. And the angel was monstrous, shining with His holy grace. It spread its arachnoid limbs, opened his many fanged maw and said to them, “Be afraid.” ’

Eyes he hadn’t noticed closing, fly open, as he jerks upright, only to collapse against the wooden boxes at his back again, a feverish dizziness getting a hold of him. There’s the characteristic pinch of a needle at the crook of his arm, as Leon startles out of the hallucination. The taste of blood still dominates his senses, while he blinks against his swimming vision, his unlikely companion coming into focus only slowly.

“You scared the shit out of me there for a second.” Luis gives him a strained grin, white teeth reflecting the dim yellow light filling the space, before he offers Leon a grimy-looking rag.

It takes him a moment to understand the implication, until he becomes uncomfortably aware of the various fluids drying sticky on his skin. Taking the makeshift towel, he rubs it across his blood-stained chin, gathering the sheen of sweat coating his face and neck right after, while he runs an unsteady hand through his wet bangs.

“Guess now we know your suppressant’s working.” Leon deflects, shifting to push himself up off the floor, even as his legs continue to protest.

With the intensity of this most recent episode, Leon’s sense of urgency is even more pressing now, the thought of succumbing to whatever voice had been calling to him, deeply unsettling and who knows how much time Luis’ serum had actually bought him? Anxiously, his hand wanders to his thigh where the holster for his handgun is strapped firmly in place. He clicks the top strap open, feeling the soothing glide of the metal beneath his worn fingertips.

If all else fails, he at least has the option to put a bullet in his head. It would certainly be preferable to turning into another one of Saddler’s parasite-ridden slaves.

Once he’s fully upright, Leon drops the sullied rag next to the opened container holding the remaining syringe, gaze lingering on the life-saving medication for a little too long, as he feels Luis circling him. He swallows thickly, worrying his teeth on his bottom lip, as he mulls over Luis’ earlier greeting.

Nothing in life is free, any chance for a negotiation with the former Umbrella scientist gone, now that the suppressant is already flowing through his veins. Even though Leon has nothing left to give, he needs to pay the man back and if he can’t convince him with a material incentive then he’ll have to make use of his natural assets.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go, Sancho?” Luis is twirling his storm lighter between his fingers, flicking it open and shut repetitively, like he’s trying to get rid of an underlying nervous energy. His expression is guarded, even as Leon can glean a hint of concern, hiding behind the hazel eyes.

Ere he cements his decision, he regards the other man for a moment that seems to stretch impossibly long. Luis is not unattractive, the wave of dark hair framing his striking features, the slight stubble accentuating a strong chin and the fine cut of his jaw, while greenish-brown orbs glint from the shadow of a low set brow. He’s slender, the curves of his body inviting, as the artfully adorned leather jacket wraps around his waist and the deep V of his unbuttoned shirt draws the eye to the barest peek of chest hair.

Under any other circumstances Leon would’ve indulged his attraction to the man all too willingly but with his knowledge of his past and his own situation, he finds himself nauseous with dread at the idea of giving up his body to the other for the opportunity of improving their already slim chances at survival.

Despite his personal reservations, Leon forces himself to move closer to the man who had saved their lives more than once by now, resigning himself to the debasement he is about to put himself through. He settles one palm on Luis’ chest, the leather warm to the touch, before he leans in close, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“As I see it…” He purrs, letting his voice drop an octave deeper, the way he knows makes him sound easy.

When he inhales next, he’s hit by the smell of cologne and sweat, a mix of musk, sandalwood and honeysuckle. The lingering scent, that could’ve been so enchanting otherwise, leaves him sick, as he continues his sensual drawl.

“I have yet to settle my debt.” Then he inclines his head to suck lightly at the other’s neck.

Almost immediately a shiver wracks the other, sinews twitching beneath his ministrations, as he leaves a trail of moist kisses on the thin skin, Luis’ pulse point hammering against the plush pillows of his lips. His hands shift to hold onto the man’s narrow waist, an attempt at stilling the tremor settling in his own limbs.

“What?” He hears Luis laugh, though he doesn’t move to push him away, so Leon takes it as his cue to give him a better idea of his offer.

Unclenching his gritted teeth, he lets his tongue peek out from between the two pearly rows, dragging the rough appendage over the thrumming jugular vein up to the edge of Luis’ jaw, breathing heavy against the coarse stubble, before playing with a combination of lips and teeth over the tender skin. The reaction follows shortly after, a bitten off groan reverberating in the other’s throat, as his Adam's apple bobs with agitation.

For a breath, he allows himself to wonder, what he’d find, if he put a hand to Luis’ lap, if he’ll be quick to finish and if the other will be a gentle lover.

“Leon?”

A palm settles on his shoulder, heavy and guiding, the signal unmistakable, even as acidic fear curls in his stomach. Leon sinks down, supple beneath the touch. His breath hitches, as his bruised knees touch the ground, his head now at the height of Luis’ groin, the purpose of this act undeniable even to himself.

Calming his breathing is hard, as he tracks his eyes over the silver buckle of Luis’ belt, the weathered fabric of his jeans and the slight bulge within. Nonetheless, Leon wrenches his fingers free from their desperate clutch of the man’s sturdy jacket, to bring them down to the leather strap circling his hips. They’re shaking so hard, he has trouble feeding it out from under the metal, cursing himself for his lack of resilience.

All he has to do is get through this and then he’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. He’s had worse bedfellows after all.

Leon tells himself, though it does little to calm the panic jumping in his chest like a dying animal.

“Leon, wait!”

The commanding tone makes him stop, looking up at the man he’s trying to seduce with half-lidded eyes and parted lips, like he wants to beg him to be fucked. 

Letting the drape of his bangs fall across one cheekbone, as he cocks his head inquisitively, Leon says nothing, hoping the image of a pretty man, willing and on his knees, will be enough to fool the scientist, since he doubts his voice would be close to settled if he tried to use it. He knows what he looks like and knows how to wield it like a blade and while he may hate himself for it afterwards, it seldomly fails to get him what he wants.

At his continued silence, Luis does the unexpected.

He lowers himself to the floor, crouching down to be at eye-level with Leon, who is balling his fists so tightly in his lap, his knuckles stand out white. When the other man moves his palm towards Leon’s face, he flinches, the instinctual reaction overcoming him, before he can stop it.

There’s a glimmer of shock on Luis’ face, only noticeable by the tightness around his eyes, yet he gently touches his hand to Leon’s cheek anyway, the pads of his fingers calloused in the way a guitarist’s are. The warm palm slides down to rest at his jaw, one thumb trailing over the dark bag beneath his eye. Without force, Luis tilts his face to meet the other’s gaze, the reflective pool of meadow green and umber shining from their dark sockets.

In comparison, his glacier-blue must be strikingly cold.

“You know, I’d like to believe I don’t have to blackmail myself into an attractive man’s bedroom.” His accentuated voice murmurs like a quiet river stream, sensual and yet concise.

Leon is so caught up in the mesmerizing sound of it, the meaning only settles in after his silence has stretched on for too long.

“I thought–” He tries to recover rather unsuccessfully, having to swallow against the lump in his throat.

“That the former Umbrella employee would put a price on you and your Señorita's life?” Luis expresses what Leon’s been thinking all along, his disgust showing clearly in the lopsided frown the other gives him. Feeling caught, Leon’s pupils tick away from Luis’ face, fixing on a blank point over his shoulder, as his lips press together in discomfort. “Honestly, I can’t blame you but I’d like to make it clear that I would never do that, to anyone .”

The touch at his cheek falls away, Leon somehow missing the grounding contact, now that it’s gone. At his words, he can feel some of the tension bleed out of his coiled muscles, the tremors easing, as the pressure to give a good performance falls away.

“Let’s just ignore this ever happened.”

The cold of the unforgiving stone is seeping into his legs, shame quickly following the realization of his miscalculation. He’s just about to pull out of the other’s space, intent to return to more pressing matters, when two fingers land back beneath his chin, halting him tenderly. 

“We can move on, if that is what you desire.”

The double entendre is not lost on him, as Luis’ gaze dips down slowly, regarding Leon with a starving sort of appetite. When the swirls of hazel get stuck on the pink of his flushed lips, Luis’ tongue peeking from his mouth to wet his own, Leon gives in to the animalistic part of him, yearning to indulge in its most basic instincts. He leans forward, almost timidly, lids fluttering closed just before their first brush of lips. Luis’ mouth is soft, slotting together perfectly with his own, the prickle of his stubble stirring a low excitement deep in his guts. They move slow, no force behind the contact, like they’re both afraid of how badly they crave it.

When has Leon last been touched like this, without violent, or cruel intent, just flesh against flesh for the sole purpose of feeling one another? It must’ve been in his former life, the one he’s had before the nightmare of Raccoon City.

As they deepen the kiss, Luis pressing closer to comb his hand through Leon’s hair, the Plaga inside him sings with rejoicement. The sudden stir is unnerving, breaking the spell of their undisturbed moment and roughly yanking him back into reality. Casting aside his burning wish to continue, he withdraws again.

“There’s no time.” He breathes, simply. It’s true, Ashley is god-knows-where and depends on him to get her home safe. He has no time to waste, however much his own infection is corroding him.

Despite his good reasons, Luis chases his touch, drawing him in by the neck to bring their foreheads together.

“The suppressant is still taking effect.” He says. The smell of nicotine accompanies his words, as he traces his fingers along the inside of Leon’s forearm down to his wrist, where the black veins are just beginning to retract. “You’ll need to rest Leon, you’re pale as death.”

A careful touch skims up his body once more, leaving hot trails, skin prickling with goosebumps. It returns to hold his face and this time Leon allows himself to lean into it. Maybe Luis is right, he’ll be no use to Ashley if he gets himself killed, because he’s too sick to fight. Maybe it’s okay to let himself take this short reprieve.

A graceful smile plays on his features, Leon inclining his head to the side, before he says: “Is that how you flirt with everyone?”

Luis mirrors him with a charming grin of his own, one thumb following the curve of Leon’s kiss-swollen bottom lip to the singular dimple in his cheek. 

“No, only if they’re pretty enough to make me lose my wits.” He quips, taking in the delicate features of Leon’s face and how they tinge a pale rose colour at his words.

Luis’ presence is almost magnetic, every point of contact radiating electricity, like they’re two live wires about to touch. It’s been so long that Leon has felt something as powerful as this, a vortex sucking him in deeper, without any chance at resistance.

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He echoes, donning his bedroom-eyes, as he peeks the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips, watching how Luis’ pupils expand at the sight.

“You’ll have to find out for yourself.” Luis grumbles into the ever decreasing space between their mouths, his accent sweetening the cadence of his words. It’s like thick, golden honey has been poured all over the cogs and crossed wires of his brain, drenching him in sugar-coated malfunction, cloying and inescapable.

“Show me.” Is what slips from his drooling jaws, vision tunneling to vignette the rough and grime speckled cut of Luis’ enchanting face, those deep pools of amber glowing like hot coals in the dark of night.

When their lips touch again, Leon has to swallow down a mouthful of saliva, a renewed appetite dizzying his senses. They're still kneeling, the bruises aching where he shifts closer, but he finds that he minds it less and less the more their kiss deepens. Eagerly, Luis parts his lips, beckoning Leon to take what he can, as he dives forward, sliding his tongue into the other's mouth. More shivers roll down Luis’ spine, a content sigh vibrating between them.

With a steady grip around the base of his skull, Leon is wordlessly nudged upwards, their mouths still locked together. When he comes to a stand, his body is trembling slightly, a persistent weakness weighing down his limbs, like he's just breaking through a fever. Maybe it should worry him, but as it is, Leon is way too focused on keeping himself from stumbling, as Luis urges him forward.

The soles of their boots scuff against the uneven ground, steps asymmetrical, before they eventually hit the wooden boxes Leon had been resting against only minutes ago. Hungrily, he crowds against Luis’ burning body, the ice-cold tips of his fingers thawing with every pass over the man’s sun-kissed skin, as he tears open the zipper of his jacket and shoves the fabric of the shirt underneath aside. He can feel his heart drum against the pads of his calloused fingers, the pulse of the other’s blood being pumped through his veins, waking something feral inside him.

The need to have Luis’ flesh beneath his teeth is overwhelming, craving the ripple of tendons and soft skin, as it gives way to the tang of blood and meat and fatty tissue.

Before he knows it, Leon has dug one of his incisors into the plump bottom lip of his partner, pulling teasingly on the flesh, even as the first drops of blood well up from the puncture. There’s a hiss from Luis, equal parts pained and amused, momentarily clearing the haze which had settled over Leon’s consciousness.

“Easy, Sancho. I’m beat up enough as it is, remember?” Luis reminds him, languidly shrugging out of his embellished leather jacket, before taking a seat on one of the boxes.

As if in a trance, Leon just watches him, wiping the blood sticking to one corner of his mouth on the back of his glove. Luis is casually bracing himself on two palms, while he looks up at him with half-lidded eyes, the rumpled drape of his shirt revealing more of his firm chest. Locks of dark hair hang wildly in his face, the sight deliciously debauched. 

In one graceful motion, Leon swings one leg across Luis’ lap, sliding close to hover over him as he kneels on the wood. 

“Sorry.” He breathes into the narrow space between them, fingers already back on working the flimsy buttons of Luis’ shirt open. 

Then he bends down to suck the first marks onto the perfect column of the other’s throat. The delicate skin does nothing to cover the thick artery running up the length of it, blood rushing almost audibly inside. Leon’s gums itch with the urge to bite down on it, but he refrains, inhaling the soothing scent of the man, as he feels his touch return.

Fingers rake through his hair, up the back of his skull, provoking a deep shiver to roll down his tense spine. Luis’ other hand bunches up the tight fabric of his shirt, skimming over the twitching skin beneath, every point of contact a sharp pinprick of unfamiliar pleasure. The oversensitive nerves in his abdomen shoot hot electricity up and down his body, increasing in intensity the further up Luis’ touch wanders. A coarse thumb strokes once over his hardened nipple and Leon growls, nails digging desperately into Luis’ bared back.

The other grunts, but continues, only pushing Leon away, to discard the offensive piece of clothing together with his knife holster. Both land at the foot of the box, a tangled heap he’ll have to sort out later, but for now his sole focus rests on the man beneath him. Going back to his earlier ministrations, Luis’ palms resume at his pecs, exploring the scarred and bruised expanse of his body with a careful touch.

“You’re pretty well built, aren’t you?” He moans under Leon’s skillful mouth, shivering when he lets his teeth nib at the junction of his shoulder.

Tracing the muscles vining from Leon’s stomach, over his sides, to the planes of his back, Luis draws him in closer, down into his lap. The grind of his burgeoning erection against Luis’ waist, makes him stutter, parting his spit glazed lips to whimper shakily. 

“Had to.” He murmurs against the other’s Adam’s apple, hiding his sour expression, as he has to unwillingly remember the brutality of his training. Then he adds: “Official order.”

Luis hums, letting the topic pass, his own nails scratching down the length of his back, bumping over each individual scar criss crossing the span of his shoulders. Nervousness swirls in his stomach, together with the building arousal. Leon is unused to having another person so close to him, without preparing for pain to follow.

It makes him jittery, distracted, his hips rolling mindlessly, as he gets lost in mouthing at Luis’ throat. The click of his leg holster echoes in the empty cave, the constant pressure of the belt releasing, before one of Luis’ palms wanders back up to his waist, squeezing the flesh, as he bucks up into his motions. Something else takes control then, the unquenchable hunger so overwhelming Leon has no chance but to give in, moaning lowly, as satisfaction spreads warm in his guts.

His teeth sink into the tender flesh, blood welling up to coat his tongue. Momentarily he’s rewarded with intoxicating pleasure, like the burn of honeyed liquor, as the Plaga in him skitters with the death throes of a subdued animal. Then a dull ripping feeling at the base of his skull, thrusts him back into reality.

At once, he realizes what he’s done.

“Shit! Calm yourself down, would you?” Luis exclaims.

He has yanked Leon’s head off his shoulder, fingers knotted tight into his hair, not letting go, even as he unclenches his grip from where he’d been holding the other a bit too tightly. Luis’ shoulder is bleeding, the clear indentures of teeth marking the broken skin, while it already begins to bruise blue and purple. The iron tang in his mouth and the distinct drip of moisture down his chin, only emphasize the gravity of his mistake.

“I don’t know what happened.” He yelps, feeling suddenly bare, unmoving as Luis keeps him suspended like a vet wrangling down a disobedient dog.

For a long moment, Luis watches him, suspicion slowly turning into curiosity, before his grip readjusts. The hand in his hair shifts to cinch tight around his jaw, fingertips digging into the rows of his teeth, while the other braces the small of his back, as Luis suddenly lifts, guiding Leon firmly down onto the boxes, head held tightly down. He doesn’t fight it, scared of his own strength and frozen by the sudden shift in dynamic.

The look on Luis’ face is one he hasn’t seen before on the man, the other pinning him flat on the uncomfortable surface, as his eyes methodically catalogue every inch of his body. It makes him feel like a particularly interesting specimen, the reminder that Luis is a scientist first and foremost, sinking in with the vague foreboding a lab rat might experience. Clinically, he strips him of his tactical gloves, bending his wrist and pressing two fingers to his pulse point, humming to himself like he’s calculating something. Next he’s hunching over his face, piercing gaze almost dissecting him, before he mumbles:

“Fascinating, indeed.”

“What?” Leon presses out from his locked jaw, squirming restlessly.

“The late stage of the infection seems to be delaying the effects of the suppressant.” Luis explains matter-of-fact, angling Leon’s head to the side, as he seems to peer at something on his neck. “I suspect the Plaga may be latching on to your more… extreme emotions to exercise its control, though I am sure it will pass in the next hour.”

That has Leon huff out a bitter laugh, the lust he’s felt only moments ago suddenly dampened. Saddler had been trying to worm his way into their heads all this time, each new incident only adding more fuel to Leon’s worsening paranoia. He can’t afford to lose control of himself. If he does, they’re all doomed.

“We’ll have to take some precautions then.” Luis suggests, the clink of his belt rousing Leon from his brooding. “As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm, I quite value my bodily integrity.”

He hears the leather slide through the belt loops, the smile on Luis’ face coming easy, despite his continued hold on Leon’s jaw. He might be expecting him to lash out, or for the Plaga to get the better of him after all, but Leon’s surprisingly okay with being held down by the other, a strange glimmer of trust keeping him perfectly still. Curiously, Leon watches as Luis brings the strip of leather up to his face, connecting their gazes for a brief moment. 

“Can you bite down on this for me?” He inquires, his stare as sharp as a scalpel.

All Leon can do is nod mutely, hesitantly parting his lips to allow the other to place the belt between his teeth. Once it’s inside, Luis lets go of his face, instead working quickly to fix the makeshift gag behind his head, cinching it tight. Still caught off guard by Luis’ approach, Leon flexes his jaw and bites down onto the tough material to test its give. The sensation of his teeth indenting the leather, stirs the same excitement in his gut, he felt before with Luis’ flesh submitting to the pressure of his incisors.

“Perfect.” The other drawls, eyes raking over the display, getting momentarily stuck on Leon’s spit slick lips, while he frees some stray strands from the gag with a tender touch. Goosebumps prickle to life across his arms at the caress.

Desperate for them to resume where they’ve left off, he rolls his hips upward, grinding himself against Luis’ knee resting between his legs, before he sits up and his impatient hands reach out to tear the flimsy shirt off his shoulders for good. Buttons pop in his hurry, severed from their seams, though Leon barely notices, honed in on the dark lovetrail snaking up from the waistband of Luis’ jeans.

The urge to lick and bite his way up the other’s torso is strong, though muzzled as he is, he has no other choice but to resist, stifling a needy keening sound at the thought. Instead he traces his fingers across the slender expanse, drinking in how Luis’ abdomen ripples with his every touch. His skin is soft, blemish free, unlike his own, the warm light of the old mining lanterns playing beautifully on the golden brown skin. The heat radiating off of him is almost hypnotizing, causing Leon to chase after it however he can, the persistent cold anchored inside his bones, never quite satisfied.

He runs his fingers across Luis’ pecs, brushing through the light smattering of chest hair and over the uneven scar where he’d cut the Plaga out of himself, before dipping lower, thumbs circling his hip bones. Luis lets him indulge, watchful but giving his own sigh of pleasure every once in a while, up until Leon pushes open the button of his jeans, eager fingers already wrapping around the waistband, fervently tugging at the fabric.

A firm hand around his wrist stops him, the pull on his hair forcing his head up to look back at Luis. There’s a vulpine grin on his face, eyes glinting with a promise of more. 

“We’re not quite done here.” He tuts his tongue, leaning in to drag his lips over the sensitive skin of Leon’s throat.

He whines quietly, the sound trapped behind the leather belt, as he writhes half-heartedly against the grip Luis has on him. By now, he’s thoroughly turned-on, his erection straining against the confines of his cargo pants, begging for attention but as it seems Luis has other plans.

“So needy.” He breathes between nips of his Adam’s apple, grazing his teeth over the jut of his collar bone, before he straightens up again. “Can you be patient for me, a bit longer, Sancho?”

At the request – and partially also the unfortunate nickname – Leon grumbles discontentedly, using his free hand to smooth it along Luis’ side, cataloguing the dip in his waist, as he leans in to rest his forehead against the vulnerable planes of his stomach.

“Hold out your wrists.” The command descends over his consciousness like a drug, the pull to comply irresistible and before Leon knows it, he’s presenting the pale white circles of his wrists like it’s second nature to him.

Submissive Strain. 

Is what crosses his thoughts in that moment, though Leon isn’t sure how much of it might be caused by the Plaga and how much might just be him. 

His lids flutter open again, once he feels his arms being moved behind him, his shoulders flexing. The tendons in his left one pull uncomfortably for a moment, a dull pressure penetrating the joint from front to back, like there’s still pieces of shrapnel sitting forgotten inside the tissue. The GSW has never healed properly, by far his most ugly scar, leaving him prone to the occasional twinge of pain, whenever he moves wrong. At least today the feeling seems to pass swiftly though, the aggravated muscle relaxing eventually.

When Luis has arranged his limbs how he wants them, he rounds him to stand at his back, before Leon feels the coarse material of hempen rope being corded around his forearms. He starts at his left wrist, tying a knot, then he guides it closer to his right elbow, where he makes a loop to secure it to the other limb. Working his way sideways from there, the winding of rope almost seems to become endless, the rhythm of Luis’ dexterous hands even and repetitive, lulling Leon into a trance.

With each new knot his arms are fastened together bit by bit, until his right wrist is being tied off at last. The coils are snug but not too tight, giving Leon little room to wiggle his way free. Being done there, Luis somehow seems to still have more spare rope left, vining the two loose ends around his waist, to proceed with his intricate bind. They’re pressed closer to each other now, the drum of Luis’ heart palpable, whenever he bends forward to cross the two ends and lead them up his torso. He’s warm against him, a steady presence, as he watches the skilled motions of his hands artfully draping the bondage over the curves of his body.

His skin is dirty, bruised blue and green from where he’d been tossed around one too many times but Luis’ touch remains careful, precise in his work. He seems to know how much tension to put on the binds without reigniting the tender spots all over him. The pattern he’s tying is following the lines of his muscles, accentuating his pecs and the curve of his hips,  the latter of which Leon has always felt kind of self-conscious about, but with the way Luis has led the cord across them, he can’t help but see the beauty in it.

Eventually Luis reaches his neck, twirling the thread to cross in front of the hollow of his throat. In an instant, Leon’s attention shifts, watching his movements warily. When the string inevitably grazes him, he nervously inches back against the other’s chest. Anxiety thrums alongside a confusing array of other emotions through him, suddenly scared Luis will cross a line after all, now that he’s incapacitated.

Then there’s hesitation, Luis’ hands sinking. A palm at his chin, turns his face upward to where the other is kneeling behind him, the deep gaze of his bronze eyes carrying a hint of concern.

“Are you okay?” He asks, holding Leon upright, as he blinks to clear his vision, only to slide his gaze away.

Leon nods, swallowing a mouthful of spit.

“Your heart is racing, mi amor.” The hand holding the rope, is resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat hammer against his ribcage, like it wants to break it open from the inside.

Ever observant, Luis pauses, one thumb of his drawing soothing circles over Leon’s cheek, until he can look at the other man again. Still, he doesn’t know how to tell him what he wants, unsure if it even warrants complaining, when Leon could just sit it out.

“Is it about being tied up?” Luis asks, almost embracing Leon with how he holds him against his chest.

The simplicity of a ‘yes or no’ question, eases some of his nerves, giving him enough to work with to get his thoughts in order again.

He shakes his head in response, waiting for Luis to continue.

“You don’t like the neck part?”

Indecision. The reflex to lie flaring up like an alarm bell, warning him of being too vulnerable. Leon nods anyway, the shame of admitting to the weak-point dusting his cheeks red.

“That’s fine,” Luis says, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the side of his face, before releasing him to grasp for the two lines of rope. “I can just run them over your shoulders like this. Is that better?” He lays out the coarse thread demonstratively, the ends now hanging loosely down by his scapulas.

They’re wrapped around the joint of his shoulder, away from possibly digging into the jugular, so Leon gives his approval, relaxing as Luis accepts and continues the complicated bind. Halfway through some braid down along his spine, the other takes pause, skimming his calloused fingertips over his back. The telltale click of his lighter, resounds in the silence, Leon’s lashes fluttering open dazed and a little puzzled.

“Hold on to this, yeah?” The warmed up metal is pressed into his palm, fingers wrapping around it by themselves. He’s not too sure what the other is hoping to achieve here, but Leon nods regardless, ever compliant. “If you want to stop, no matter the reason, drop it and I’ll get you out of this.” Luis speaks up again, squeezing his balled fist, like he’s trying to imprint his words there.

At last the meaning of the gesture clicks into place, the turning gears in Leon’s sluggish head finally understanding. It’s a failsafe, a way for him to communicate, even while muzzled. A strange sense of relief washes through him, the tense line of his shoulders relaxing, as he focuses on the rounded corners of the lighter cutting into his palm. Leon nods again, more certain this time.

Once every knot is fastened and he is sufficiently wrapped up, the other steps back around to his front, proudly regarding his work. The gaze with which he fixes him, has an edge to it, ravaging him from afar, while Leon tenses against the bondage experimentally, squirming and flexing to see if he really is trapped now.

The rope scratches over his skin, pressing into his flesh when he moves and no matter how much he tries, his hands are unable to reach for a single knot to free himself. It should unnerve him – in any other situation it probably would – but strangely enough Leon feels safe, his adrenaline fraught brain reduced to focusing on nothing but the different sensations coursing through him. Trusting his partner to handle the power relinquished to him, with nothing but care.

The heels of Luis’ shoes click on the stone, as he closes the distance, Leon arching into the touch running from his chest down to his hips, the contact like hot pinpricks, before Luis begins to divest him of his remaining belts and pouches. The weight falls off him, one after another, a temporary reprieve, as he ceases to be Agent Kennedy, USSTRATCOM’s well-honed weapon, Adam Benford’s prized asset, and just becomes Leon.

When Luis guides him to lie down, he has a steady grip on his body, cushioning his head by what he belatedly realizes is Luis’ leather jacket, as he arranges him on the boxes. It’s not the most comfortable position, especially because Leon’s weight is partially resting on his forearms, but it’s bearable for now, so he continues to chase after every touch and skim Luis grants him, the other’s lips paving a path down his torso, making him shiver, and shiver and shiver.

The pants go next, together with his briefs, cool air wafting across his flushed skin, his erection twitching atop his abdomen, as it drools precum all over himself. He’s entirely exposed now, helpless in his bounds and at the mercy of a man he’s met only a few hours ago. The thrill of it is comparable to nothing he’s felt before, his mind floating in ecstasy, while his body becomes pliant, begging for more. Leon throws his head back with a high whine, as Luis finally touches his thighs, the limbs trembling in anticipation, before the latter pushes them apart.

“You’re ready for me to take you apart?”

Luis settles between his open legs, fingertips skimming the inside so feather light, Leon twitches and bucks up, eagerly searching for more. The steady weight of the rope around him is grounding, straining against every twist of his torso, as another moan slips out from around the gag.

“Come on, you want to answer my question?” The teasing tone is not lost on him, but Leon aches for Luis’ attention, his kind touch.

The promised pleasure fills the air with static, so he’s willing to obey him without question, words coming out garbled from behind the leather, before Leon reverts to nodding instead.

“Good boy.”

The purposeful inflection drills into Leon like a white hot rod of iron, setting aflame his innards, brain short-circuiting and devolving into pure lust. At the same time, Luis wraps his perfect fingers around Leon’s cock, giving him a few languid strokes.

He makes a total mess of himself.

Mewling like a cat in heat, his hips twitch erratically, grinding into Luis’ tight fist. More precum beads from his tip, smearing down his length, as the other meets his movements, twisting his wrist on the way up and thumbing at the head of his cock to intensify the sensation. It’s the sweet taste of heaven, for about half a minute, the utter abandon with which Leon ruts against the other, cut short, when a palm comes down hard on his hip.

He’s pinned to the wood beneath him, immobilized, while the movements of Luis’ hand devolve into a torturously slow drag, before stopping altogether. A broken whine slips from clenched teeth, his mouth filled with the taste of leather, as he bites at it.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” He slurs, rousing Leon’s attention by grasping his chin and leaning in close. His pupils are blown wide, the tip of his tongue wetting his reddened lips. The chestnut wave of his hair falls along his cheeks to frame his face, the slightest tint of burgundy blooming there. “I want to get you nice and ready first, comprende?”

Leon’s cock throbs in Luis’ hold, the urge to move overwhelming but he tries to stay still for him anyway, nodding frantically in the hopes the other will resume his teasing then. When he gives his affirmative, Luis smiles, carding the bangs from his sweaty forehead, before he presses a kiss to the spot, all slow and tender.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” He asks next, still so close, Leon can feel his breath ghost over his lips.

His chest splits right down the middle with the weight of the question, Leon torn between wanting to take handfuls of what Luis is offering and the aching hollow reminding him he can’t ever keep it. It’s impossible to tell, when someone had last wanted to take care of him, the idea of it terrifying him, because Leon doesn’t know if he can accept it without falling apart. Despite his protesting rationale, he finds himself nodding along, vision swimming, as a desperate expression flutters across his face. 

For a moment, Luis cups his cheek, letting him nuzzle into the warm palm, before he tangles his fingers into Leon’s bangs pulling lightly to make him look into the bark and moss coloured pools.

“Then listen to me and do exactly as I say, darling.” The glint in his eyes, the draw of his mouth, makes Luis look almost lovesick, as he voices the command but–

No, that’s impossible. They’re just worked up by going through this nightmare together, it doesn’t mean anything.

A whine curls in his throat, quiet but wanting, Leon arching against the pull on his hair and the hold on his hip, pushing out his chest to get just a little bit closer to the other. When Luis refuses to humour him, keeping his grip firm, he stills again, submitting at last.

Pearly white teeth glint at him, as the smile spreads on Luis’ lips.

“Don’t move.” He orders, his touch disappearing, after the words had enough time to settle in.

It leaves him hard and wanting on the unforgiving surface of the cargo boxes. Leon has to grit his teeth to will himself to follow the command, waiting patiently for Luis’ next move, while he feels like a wound up spring, tight with tension.

He has to watch, as Luis takes a step back to divest himself of his remaining clothes, the form fitting jeans sliding easily down his toned thighs, boxershorts fast to follow. Once the last layer is discarded, Leon gets a good look at Luis’ length, drinking in the sight of the sizable member springing from the elastic waistband of his underwear, already hard and glistening with precum. When he steps into Leon’s vicinity again, it takes everything in him to hold still, muscles going rigid.

There’s a force curled up in his chest cavity, still squirming to be free, as it poisons his mind, twisting his desire into something more violent, the only thing keeping it in check, the bounds around him. It moves along his spine, stretching its tendrils for his brain stem, as it whispers sweet nothing to him. Promises of making the pain stop, of sweet ichor coating his tongue, if only Leon was to give in. As he fights against it, a shake settles in his bones.

The hand skimming up his bare leg disrupts his concentration, the tremble worsening momentarily, before Leon remembers the command he’s supposed to be following. For a second, he anticipates having his mistake pointed out, for the teasing touch to disappear once again, but Luis resumes his path upwards, tracing the bulking muscle and the strong V connecting his groin to his stomach, only whispering a dreamy: 

“You’re my beautiful prince charming, aren’t you?”

His teeth are clenched so hard, he can hear the enamel creak, yet the strangled, wounded sound still escapes him. There’s nothing he can do but blink the welling moisture out of his eyes, unable to hide the singular tears streaking down his temples. Throughout his life, Leon’s been called attractive often enough and he knows he’s pretty in a conventional sense but rarely has he been able to truly believe someone else’s claim, no matter how well meaning, especially not when the admiration solely belonged to his body.

Those kinds of gazes usually caused a bitter taste in his mouth and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

But Luis… The look in his eyes leaves no doubts to be had.

“Oh my sweet boy,” Luis purrs, wiping away the tear tracks at the corners of his eyes. “Let me make you feel better, okay?”

It’s not a question Leon could say no to, even if he wanted, nodding his head, despite his lip still quivering with the intensity of his own emotions. He’s rewarded with a kiss on the forehead, Luis leaning back shortly after, hungry gaze fixed on Leon’s middle.

“Good. Part your legs for me.” He looks at him expectantly, waiting to climb between his thighs, once Leon has spread them wide, allowing Luis access to his most vulnerable parts.

The teasing touches continue, at the inside of his thighs, along his straining shaft and the beginning swell of his ass. All the while, Leon shivers through the sensations, keeping his legs open just like Luis wanted them. In response, there’s a satisfied hum and he revels in the approval. One palm comes to the crook of his knee, coaxing the limb upward until it comes to rest on Luis’ shoulder, splaying him out further in all his tentative devotion.

From behind Leon’s head, in one of the pockets of Luis’ jacket, he procures a small bottle, the purpose of which only registers, after he has already poured some of the clear content over his fingers. The viscous liquid gleams like a polished knife in the low light, before Luis lets his hand disappear between Leon’s legs.

“I need you to relax.” Luis directs him, tone gentle.

The air shuddering out of his strained lungs, Leon focuses on his breathing, closing his eyes, before he feels a hesitant prodding at his entrance. The lube is still cool, when it touches him, Luis circling the muscle with rotating motions, to give Leon more time to adjust. Even with the experience he does have, it’s been a while since he’s been intimate with someone and he worries he might be out of practice.

“Focus.” The lull of Luis’ voice quiets the burgeoning worries, bringing Leon back to the present and the single digit, slowly pushing inside.

He relaxes, consumed by the slow drag of the calloused finger against his walls, the glide eased by the lube. Soon enough his body has yielded enough to add a second finger, the stretch making the breath catch in Leon’s throat, legs stirring with unrest.

“What did I tell you?” Luis has halted the intrusion, right at the second knuckle, tapping his cheek to draw Leon’s attention. 

With a flutter of lids, he fixates on the other’s face, only now noticing how clamped up he’d become. His breathing settles, muscles going lax again, before he nods at the other to continue. Despite his affirmation, Luis waits a little bit longer, only moving slightly back and forth, before pushing past the second knuckle and burying his two digits entirely inside. The undulating rhythm that follows, has Leon quickly worked up, panting as Luis brushes just so against the sensitive nerves of his prostate.

Everytime Leon even so much as squirms, the urge to grind back against Luis overtaking him, the other lays a determined hand on his pelvis, pressing down to keep him from stirring. After what feels like an eternity, of teasing and scissoring him open, Luis extricates his fingers.

“Ready for a third one?” He asks, like there’s any necessity for it, already pouring more lube into his hand.

Leon nods, restless but desperately trying to be good and follow Luis’ commands. Throwing his head to the side, he lets more whimpers slip, the emptiness inside him almost painful, as his lust becomes unbearable. Merciful as he is, Luis puts him out of his misery soon enough, three fingers now spreading open his entrance and pushing inside, his body pliant, welcoming it in.

From there on, Luis makes sure to hit his prostate with every stroke, his other hand fondling Leon’s straining erection, precum already pooling on his stomach. It’s absolutely maddening, Leon barely able to take it without crying out in ecstasy. At some point, the command to keep still, is forgotten and he’s squirming and writhing on Luis’ fingers, like he’s being vivisected, heel digging into the wood and upper body fighting against the rope holding him back.

He’s sure he’ll cum like this, until Luis’ touch suddenly withdraws.

There’s a horrible, long-suffering sound coming from deep within him, so foreign it takes him a moment to recognize his own voice. Goosebumps prickle to life all over his skin, the sweat standing in droplets on his brow and down his chest. He’s so out of breath, his exhales come out as short puffs of air, while he tries to get his thoughts in order.

“You’re being quite feisty.” Luis tuts his tongue disapprovingly, closing his fist around the knot sitting on his sternum. The slight pull lifts his torso a few inches, the other holding him in that position long enough to convey the message. “Think you can just do as you please, or are you that bad at doing what you’re told?” He goes on, gaze hard, yet there’s still humour in his voice.

It’s a way to assert dominance, to get Leon back in line, because Luis has laid out simple rules for him and yet he’d failed to abide by them. Helpless to articulate himself with the leather still wedged in his mouth, Leon’s brows furrow with frustration, shame and guilt colouring his face an unsightly scarlet.

He didn’t mean to disobey, had been trying so hard to please the man but it’s been so long since anyone has touched him and he’d been so overwhelmed by the pleasure, it had consumed him, made him negligent.

“‘m so-rry.” He garbles as best as he can with hoarse vocal cords. More saliva webs down from the corner of his mouth and along his face, as he attempts to add a: “I didn’t mean to.” which mostly comes out as incoherent babbling.

Renewed tears brim on his waterline, no matter how aware Leon is, that he isn’t in any real trouble, the first calming touch of Luis’ palm cradling his face, is like being given absolution. The tight sensation coiled around his ribs, eases with the warm smile curling Luis’ lips, the brown of his irises, swirling like whiskey in a tumblr, as he adds wickedly:

“You’re lucky you have those pretty blues, or else I might not be so lenient.”

Leon chokes on an abrupt laugh, sniffling to hide the weight falling off of him, as he blinks the moisture out of his eyes again. Then Luis’ hands land back at his hips again, weight shifting to rise to his knees.

“Come on, spread those legs, mi amor.” He encourages him, settling with his own hips over Leon’s, once he has made enough space for him.

Leaning forward, Luis brackets his head with his hands, bringing them eye to eye, before he rolls his hips experimentally. Their erections touch, rubbing against each other and relighting the arousal smouldering in Leon’s abdomen. Luis repeats the motion a few times, making sure to give him a good impression of his length as he lets it glide slowly along his abdomen. All the while Leon keeps his legs spread, just like he’d been told to.

“You feel that?” He asks, grinding down into the soft flesh of his belly. Leon watches the length, as it slides over the planes of his stomach, the thought of having Luis deep inside him chasing a boiling hot thrill up his spine.

“Think you’re ready for me?” Luis groans, roughly grasping Leon’s fringe to pull his head back. From beneath heavy lids, he gazes deeply into the other’s eyes, pupils dilated to show only a thin sliver of the stormy blue. A shiver runs through him, the sting at his roots, a sweet kind of pain. Leon wants it, drooling like a hungry dog for Luis’ cock. It seems to show, in the blush creeping down his chest, the twitch of his erection, or the barely suppressed spasms in his thighs, because the other doesn’t wait for his confirmation, before he drones: “Yes, you are, aren’t you?”

The lascivious expression on his face is absolutely overwhelming, the starving need promising new heights of hedonistic indulgence, until it begins to shift into something harder, more controlled, almost domineering.

“Get up.” Luis commands, suddenly backing away, out of Leon’s reach.

At once, he is moving, struggling to climb off the cargo boxes, as his stiff muscles ache from the prolonged position. He flexes his shoulders, as he sits up, before fighting to find his balance enough to come to a wobbly stand. The moment he’s upright, Luis grabs him by the biceps, yanking to turn him around, back to the room and facing the wooden crates again. With one hand twisted into the blond strands at the nape of his neck, Luis places his discarded jeans in front of Leon’s feet, mouth dipping to cast a moist breath over his rapidly pulsating artery, as he speaks.

“On your knees.”

It’s like poison, the haze over Leon’s mind numbing every concern for his blind willingness to comply. He can’t help himself, as if the obedience has been carved into his DNA, the harsh echo of his Major reverberating in his vacant skull, like it's been an ill omen all along. Leon’s kneeling, before he’s even registered moving, excitement and arousal sluggishly blending into a thick sludge of pure, animalistic bliss.

“Bend over.” The order comes from above, the scalding stare of the other behind him, prickling at his neck.

Swallowing heavily, Leon does as he’s told, laying out his bound torso over the crudely carved wood. Head turned, his cheek presses into the surface, before Luis drags his leather jacket back to cushion his face. As slick fingers return to prod at his rim, testing the give of the muscle, a whimper shudders from his vocal cords, small and quiet, then there’s emptiness again, before they’re replaced with the blunt tip of Luis’ cock.

The head is hot to the touch, silk-smooth skin coated in a generous layer of lube, as it nudges against him, steady but insistently. Abruptly unsure if he’s prepared enough, Leon’s breath hitches, squirming with another flutter of nerves, before a warm palm settles between his shoulder blades. He stills, the weight grounding.

“You can take it.” It’s a statement, leaving no space for doubt and Leon knows with an uncanny certainty that Luis is right.

The head breaches him, as Leon’s muscles loosen, relaxing into the hold of the bounds on his body, the reassuring control his partner exercises upon him. A breathy moan fights free from his gagged mouth, more spit dribbling over his chin, as Leon arches into the sensation. Electricity courses across his skin, the fine hairs on his arms and legs, standing on end, as Luis’ cock begins to slide deeper. The drag is unending, the other’s movement slow, while Leon gasps and gasps, each inch making him feel like he couldn’t possibly take it all, until even more has begun to fill him.

“Almost there, you’re doing so well.”

A hand skims down his side, sending the tendons twitching, Leon wholly distracted by the friction of Luis’ length against his walls, as he can’t do much more than lie there and take it, his own spit lewdly soaking through the leather in his mouth. All the while his head is spinning with pleasure, eyes rolling back in his head and the heat in his guts drawing ever tighter.

Eventually Luis is sheathed fully inside him, pelvis flush with the skin of Leon’s ass. There’s a groan from both of them, the sensation of being impaled on the other’s length, all encompassing. They bask in the moment for a long minute, the hiss of air sucked in through clenched teeth, enough to let Leon know, Luis must be exerting all of his self-control, while he gives him time to adjust. The girth of Luis’ cock stretches him out, the sting of being pushed to his limits, a bittersweet mix of pleasure and pain, as Leon grows used to it. The weight of it sits in his abdomen, Luis rocking them back and forth carefully, while Leon heaves in wet breaths through his mouth, saliva slowly forming a puddle under his cheek.

Once he grows restless, wiggling against the ropes squeezing his flesh, Luis rewards him with a few shallow thrusts. It’s just a few inches, but the stiff length rubbing against his insides, stokes the flames of pleasure ever higher, setting him off mewling.

“You're desperate for my cock?” Luis is running his fingers through his hair, causing goosebumps to crawl over his skin.

Leon answers with an impatient tossing of his upper body, gurgling a choked ‘Please’ into the leather. The digits slipping through the silky blonde strands, suddenly twist, taking hold where they’re digging into the back of his head. He’s pushed down again, face meeting leather, as Luis simultaneously thrusts his hips forward, driving his erection as deep as it would go. There’s barely enough time to groan, before Luis is drawing out in one fluid motion, slamming himself back inside right after. Leon is pushed roughly into the edge of the cargo, hips certainly bound to bruise but it’s all worth it, when the other is currently setting a merciless pace, incinerating his whole body with suffocating pleasure.

The thrusts come in quick succession, pounding into him like waves crashing against the shore, Luis bearing down on him with one palm, the dull pain pulling on his hair only serving to turn him on more. It doesn’t take the other long, before he’s found the right angle, hitting Leon’s prostate head on and punching a strangled moan from him. For a second, he sees a flash of white, the sudden intensity frying his nerves, his whole world shrinking down to that singular point of sparking pleasure, until it explodes through his chest and limbs. Leon is shaking violently, gulping down air like he’s drowning, while Luis drives his cock against the bundle of nerves inside him, wringing every last drop of ecstasy from him.

“You need this, don’t you?” Luis states, bend down low, his weight pressing into him from behind, while he keeps rolling his hips. The words barely register in Leon’s overstimulated brain, his thighs trembling with the effort of keeping him upright, as he chases that building high, the other has been promising. “For someone to fuck you, until you forget all about that pesky Plaga.” He speaks up again, undulations grinding to an unbearably slow rhythm.

By that time, Leon is so tightly strung, he can barely think straight, whimpering as the crest of his orgasm ebbs away again. In an attempt to pick up the pace, he meets Luis’ leisurely thrusts, shoving himself backwards, while his free hand scrabbles uselessly at the ropes keeping him tied up, the other white knuckling the lighter still clutched in his grasp. His motions are cut short quickly, Luis ramming his hips against the wooden crates, his iron grip clutching the flesh almost punishingly tight. All at once, the friction against his insides vanishes, the stretch to his muscle disappearing, as Luis withdraws. At the loss, Leon’s crying out like a wounded dog, desperate and painfully hard, at the brink of going insane with desire. He presses his forehead to the smooth leather, trying to focus, while sobs begin to curl in his throat.

“Beg.” Is all Luis says.

Leon’s still sorting out how to comply, when he’s abruptly drawn upwards, one strong hand fisting a piece of rope at his back, to yank him upright. His body is supple, neck giving out, as he tips backwards, head lolling onto Luis’ shoulder. All he wants, is for Luis to keep fucking him, he doesn’t care what he’ll have to do to achieve that. Numbly, his lips move around the gag, forming indecipherable words, which barely make sense, even to himself. 

All the while, Luis has gone about opening the buckle cinched tightly at the back of his head, Leon only realising he’s alleviating the hindrance, once it’s tugged carefully from between his teeth and down over his chin. More spit oozes from his swollen lips, collecting in the hollow of his throat. Despite Leon’s full body shakes of exhaustion, the other holds him motionless, waiting for him to answer.

“Luis.” The pathetic hiccup spills forth, his name a drawn out and high pitched plea. “Please– please, oh God, please fuck me!” Leon begs, the debasement of stooping so low for a bit of human kindness, barely registering, as he fights for any ounce of coherency.

Opening his mouth in a silent moan, Leon almost expects to be dismissed, for Luis to draw out the torture even longer, just to see him frantically squirm in his bounds. But instead, he feels a satisfied purr rumble through Luis’ chest, before his cock sinks into him again.

Leon yelps noisily, the intrusion dizzying his senses, as he falls slack in the other’s hold. Resting his weight against Luis, the other sets a new rhythm, long, powerful strokes driving into him, every part of his body yielding, like Leon is a docile lamb being led to slaughter.

The white column of his throat lays bare, arteries pulsing alluringly, ready to be slit.

“Good boy.” The words are sharp like a knife, whispered right into the shell of his ear, Leon twisting in the hold the other has on him. His hands are tender but determined, a butcher aiming for a precise kill and Leon bays to be a pretty sacrifice.

One arm is slung around his chest, while the other keeps his hips steady, bruised knees threatening to give out under the relentless strain. The position almost reminds him of prayer, bleary eyes cast towards heaven, as everything swims in and out of focus. He certainly feels closer to god than he ever has on the pews of a church.

They’re pressed flush against each other, the heat of Luis’ skin seeping into his own, every twitch of a tendon, or beat of his heart vibrating through Leon’s overworked nerves, like he’s just an echochamber for the other’s pleasure. Luis almost spears him on his cock with each thrust, Leon’s limp body jerking in tandem, as he’s fully enveloped by his presence. 

Pleasure building, he absently notices the hungry growls coming from the man behind him, blunt teeth digging into his shoulder, as if to subdue him. Leon doesn’t mind, ready to take anything Luis wants to do with him, as long as he keeps drilling into his prostate like that. The arousal is almost blinding, his own cock flushed red and dripping sticky strings of precum onto Luis’ jeans, begging for attention. Distantly, he’s somewhat aware of the sheen of tears pooling in his eyes and streaking down his burning face, his overwhelmed system struggling to reel itself in.

Somewhere between all that, Luis readjusts his grip on him, the tip of his elbow poking into his sternum, as he squeezes his jaw, before jamming two fingers into his gaping mouth. The taste of sweat and gunpowder is pungent, making him yowl through another electrifying push of Luis’ cock. Rough callouses scrape over his tongue, Leon closing his lips around the digits and sucking lightly almost automatically. It’s what Luis seems to have wanted, because he rewards him with quickening the rolling of his hips.

“Do you want to cum?” Luis grunts next to him, motions losing some of their smoothness, instinct taking over.

With the other’s middle and ring finger pressing down on his tongue, Leon can’t do more than garble some form of affirmative, a high pitched moan closely following. He’s coming undone right here and now, every part of him screaming for release, as Luis continues to push him towards the edge.

“Ask for permission then.” The thrusts have turned erratic, unpredictable in when they’ll strike into Leon’s sensitive bundle of nerves but he knows for sure, he won’t be able to take much more of it, without tipping over into his own orgasm, whether he wants to, or not.

“Please let me– Ah ah!” His begging dies somewhere between his vocal chords and his lips, devolving into little punched out breaths, as his brain short circuits.

Still jerking in place, the fingers in Leon’s mouth withdraw, before Luis’ other hand has gripped his erection, giving him one firm stroke, before holding him at the base. It sends Leon spiraling, body torn between wanting to heel and wanting to finally plummet from the edge into his sweet release. Holding himself back is almost impossible, the way his abdomen draws tight all too foreboding and he just knows he’ll cum any second now.

Panic seizes him, loud whimpers sputtering from his spit slick lips. Leon quivers, muscles contracting, as he fights his approaching orgasm long enough to choke out another sentence.

“I want to cum, please! I need to– I need to cum! please, please–!” His voice sounds strange to his own ears, the stuttering cries pressed from constricted lungs, hoping, or praying they’ll be good enough for Luis to grant him salvation.

“Of course you can, sweetheart.” Luis moans, slipping his fingers back into Leon’s mouth.

It’s all the permission he needs, the next thrust of Luis cock pushing him into the abyss. Everything inside him is clenching at once, his abdomen twitching like there’s electricity running through the muscles. Leon feels like he’s been set ablaze, the hard length pistoning into him pouring ever more oil into the inferno that has engulfed him.

For a glimpse, he forgets where he is, forgets the aches and pains plaguing him, the crushing weight on his shoulders, as the pleasure ripping through him like a wildfire becomes the only thing his consciousness can grasp onto. Then, he feels Luis’ fist moving up and down his length.

The ecstasy that follows is unlike anything Leon has experienced before, shredding through every remaining ounce of sanity he might’ve possessed, as his eyes roll back in their sockets. He’s twitching uncontrollably, spent spilling over Luis’ hand working along his cock, as the other pumps into him in chase of his own release.

The high is a violent one, a carnage of endorphins gutting him alive, his heart drumming so fast, he can barely catch his breath.

Holy rapture slashing through him. God’s wrath. Divine punishment. It’s ecstasizing, intoxicating, blinding in its beauty and absolutely terrifying.

At last his strength gives out, joints loose in their sockets and body collapsing into Luis’ arms, wrung out entirely. Warmth spills inside him, drips down his thighs, when Luis pulls his soft cock out.

All Leon can do is lean into the guiding touch of the other, sprawling onto the floor, dirt sticking to his sweat soaked skin, as Luis undoes the knots of his bondage. The rope comes apart easily, draped over his slack limbs, while Leon is still too out of it to do more than lie there. After maneuvering the rope from between his arms, Luis settles against the crates, pulling Leon into his embrace, head pilllowed below his clavicle and knees tucked in. His hands skim his arms and torso, touch mindful of agitating the blooming bruises, roping around the flesh, before shifting to knead the tension out of Leon’s sore muscles.

The simple kindness touches something in him, a seedling he hasn’t dared to nurture in a long while. It could almost feel like a tender moment between lovers, if the ebb of pleasure didn’t bring renewed clarity with it. Their reprieve is just a fleeting illusion, the weight of the world only waiting to smother him. Leon sighs deeply, face still wet but too tired to do anything about it. He must look like a mess, certainly feels like it too and yet Luis pets his hair, catches the fresh tear escaping his lash line on the pad of his thumb and bends down for a sweet kiss.

“Feeling better?” A piece of hair gets tucked behind his ear, Leon’s eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

He can feel Luis’ pulse thrum against his palm, alive and well, where he traces the shape of his scar. Under his own sternum, the Plaga sits motionless, slumbering under the force of the suppressant. 

“Yeah. seems like it worked.” He says.

***

Ribbons of smoke trail up. A cigarette held between bloodied lips.

“You know, I led a pretty shitty life.” Luis’ voice breaks, full of regret.

He can barely move his head, has lost all coordination in his hands already. Locks of hair hang in his eyes, so Leon does the only thing he still can for him and brushes them away. Luis will die here, he’d known it the moment he saw the knife in his back, the crack of splintering bone, as Krauser had twisted it, sending bile up his throat.

“But now, eh…” He speaks up again, pausing to catch his breath. His head wobbles on his neck, prompting Leon to hold it steady. For a moment, Luis’ eyes go distant, far away, before he raises them back onto him. “What do you think, Leon?”

The knowledge of Luis’ imminent death is a cold and leaden thing, stunning him speechless. The air is filled with the smell of honeysuckle and blood, the sick fragrance burning itself into Leon’s memory.

He’ll never be able to forget it.

Luis’ next inhale is a wet and laborious rasp, Leon holding his breath in horrified anticipation. His thumbs trace haltingly across the other’s cheeks and beneath the pads of his fingers, thrums Luis’ sluggish pulse. Slow. Ever slower.

Soon.

“People can change, right?”

It’s not so much a question, as it is a plea. The expression on Luis’ face is agonized, brows attempting to furrow, even as his voice forsakes him. There’s no time for an answer though, no chance for reassurances.

Leon feels it, before he sees it, the beat of Luis’ heart falling away and not starting up again. His inhale is small, barely enough to burn the tobacco of his cigarette, then with a puff of acrid smoke, the weight of Luis’ head drops fully into his hands and the air leaves his lungs for good.

The smouldering stick falls from numb lips.

Leon settles Luis’ lifeless body into his arms, closes his cloudy eyes.

Luis Serra is dead.

For a tiny moment, they’d held something precious between them, sweet, tender and blooming.

Leon should’ve known it was never made to last.