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They were supposed to be professionals— professionals didn’t drink on operations, didn’t talk back to commanding officers, didn’t act like a psycho, didn’t put their fellow soldiers at risk. On paper, Leon was absolutely and one-hundred-percent a professional. He didn’t taste a drop of alcohol the entire time he’d been with Chris, he never once argued with Chris concerning The Plan™ that had actually turned out to be a gigantic shit-show as usual, and he hadn’t put Chris in any sort of danger. On the surface, Leon was the perfect agent, the perfect weapon, the perfect partner.
So why did Chris feel like something was missing? Something was off? Wrong? He couldn’t explain it and he definitely couldn’t ask Leon, not to his face, not even to the side. Leon S. Kennedy was functioning at his god damn best as always, and if Chris was suddenly asking him what the fuck was wrong with him, he knew he’d only be met with stubborn and wild aggression, like Leon was a cornered animal. He could ask Claire, but she would tell Leon he was asking. Chris could ask Sherry, but she would sooner cut his ear off than give any Leon S. Kennedy secrets. Maybe Helena? Were Leon and Helena even still talking? Chris didn’t even want to breathe the same air as Hannigan— she scared him.
Still, even though Chris knew he couldn’t ask, that didn’t stop him from wanting. Leon was a good soldier and had even fighting this just as long as Chris, they had so much in common that Chris knew they could be friends if they could only break down the wall that had been built between them purely on accident, from years of skirting around each other and saying there wasn’t enough time for pleasantries. Leon had asked Chris out for drinks one or two times over the past decade-plus, but Chris had always had a reason to say no, and whenever he’d invited Leon to a game or a social or whatever, Leon had always been busy. It had never been the right time.
It probably wasn’t the right time now, either. Coming off an op, both of them tired and worn thin by the three days of endless combat against some fuckers that thought the Tyrants they’d bought off the black market could be used for stealing resources and defending research. They were exhausted, but strung too high to actually think of resting. And their evac being delayed of their own volition. The storm approaching and intending to ravage this small town in Alaska wasn’t deadly, but it was still enough of a threat for Leon and Chris to agree they’d be happy to wait for safer weather if it meant keeping a pilot from having to brave the storm.
Hannigan had managed to get them a room at a small, local B-and-B, and that was where they were now, trudging in well after hours, kicking mud and guts from their boots, both of them banged to hell and back. The people running the establishment had taken one look at them and whisked them to separate bathrooms. The elderly woman who co-owned the place with her husband had handled Leon, cooing softly to him about getting a first aid kit for the nasty wound along his brow, which Chris appreciated she was doing. The woman’s husband had pulled Chris upstairs to the guest bathroom by the room they’d be staying in, showing Chris how to use the shower and even going as far to leave some clothes on the sink.
“You know, I saw some combat myself,” the old man— Mr. Valeth, co-owner of the Valeth Bed and Bath— had said. The man had stroked his beard as he helped Chris get the BDUs off his body, the fabric sticking to his cuts from the scabbing, pulling them open. “Never saw anything like you boys see today, though.”
Chris had looked away and just nodded with his mouth in a grim line. Mr. Valeth had left quickly after that. A fellow soldier would know that men who went through things like Chris and Leon didn’t want to talk about it. Discussion of trauma wasn’t the way of war.
He’d showered quickly, not wanting to waste water, using the bandaids that Mr. Valeth had found for him to patch up the cuts he’d reopened. He distantly hoped Mrs. Valeth had handled Leon’s wound— the gash across his hairline had been bleeding persistently since they’d finished off the last Tyrant, Leon dropping from on high to literally shove a pineapple grenade down the monster’s throat, leaping away in time to avoid the blast that had torn the Tyrant apart, but leaping away so fast that he hadn’t had time to catch himself. The sound of Leon’s skull colliding with the steel grating beneath their feet rang in Chris’s head even now.
Chris finished off his own treatment and stared at his reflection, wincing at the bruising. He definitely wasn’t a pretty sight. His feet were dragging in the plush carpet and his hands were shaking with adrenaline. He knew Leon couldn’t be any better off. He didn’t want to say they were getting too old for this, but—
“How long can we keep going like this?”
Leon’s question from New York bothered him. It had been months ago, Arias dead and gone for almost half a year, good riddance and all that jazz. Leon’s question had been so dissolving after such a battle that Chris hadn’t actually given it much thought until very recently, when he’d realized he—
Well—
To be frank, Chris Redfield had a crush. And it was really, really unfortunate to realize he had a crush after giving said man he was crushing on such a flippant response to what had been a very important, very vulnerable question. Leon hadn’t been asking to be condescending, he’d been asking for help, and Chris had given him the bullshit line Leon had fed him before as a deflector, and there was really no coming back from that, was there? Maybe that was why Leon hadn’t invited Chris for beers since China and why he’d not even bothered coming up with a half-assed excuse for why he couldn’t catch a baseball match with Chris. The olive branch had been extended to Chris and he’d set it ablaze without even noticing he’d been holding a lit match.
He wanted to fix it. How the fuck was he going to fix it.
Chris ran a hand through his damp hair and pattered carefully down the creaky hallway to the guest bedroom he’d be sharing with Leon, deciding he’d say something when it felt like the right moment. That “right moment” wouldn’t come anytime soon, but he knew something needed to be done for the rift between them that he’d made. Sure, it had been an accident, but accidentally firing a gun didn’t bring back the person who got shot. Still, he couldn’t just pull the trigger and never even think to apologize. Leon would understand if Chris got the chance to explain himself, he was sure of it.
Chris gently pushed open the door to the spare bedroom, ready to just lay down and get a good ten hours of sleep for the storm to pass. A warm bed, cozy blankets, the prattle of rain and soft rumble of thunder, deny himself the trauma of what that sound normally triggered in his brain. Chris was going to pass the fuck out and forget everything for a good long night like he deserved.
He stalled in the doorway, hand on the knob, when he realized there was only one bed in the room.
A large one, granted, a Californian King that would easily fit two men, maybe three if they decided to get intimate. The comforter as down and fluffy and there were way too many throw pillows. The bed looked as comfortable as Chris had been hoping it would, but, again, there was only one. He stared at the bed like it was a worst case scenario. How would Leon take this?
“Look alive, Redfield.”
Speak of the devil. Chris only barely kept himself from jumping a foot in the air from how badly Leon’s voice had startled him. He hadn’t heard the man coming, but what else was new? Leon could be dead silent wearing maracas if you asked Chris. Chris glanced over his shoulder, saw the younger man staring up at him with emotionless, tired eyes, the bags beneath those blue irises like bruises. There was surgical-grade stitching with lilac colored thread that was darkening from old blood. Chris wet his lips and then stepped aside so Leon could see the issue. He was still looking at Leon, so he caught the minute flash of something across Leon’s face as the man understood. “Oh,” was all Leon said, a little dull and more than a little exhausted. Then, “I’ll take the floor.”
Chris scowled. “Over my dead body. What, you never shared a bed with a man before?”
“I have,” Leon said. He gave nothing else. He stepped past Chris into the room, though, and went for the bed. As he walked past Chris, Chris realized he could smell the honey shampoo that he must have used in the downstairs bathroom. He strode past Chris like a breeze. “If you don’t care, then there’s no problem,” Leon said. “You want window or door?”
“Door,” Chris replied immediately. He always took the spot closest to the door, with his men and Leon alike. As long as he was the first person in the way if something bad came through, he could sleep easy. “Feel free to cuddle me.”
The little joke came out way too much like flirtation and Chris watched Leon’s shoulders tense in the large, soft t-shirt that was emblazoned with the US Army crest along the back. It was probably Mr. Valeth’s shirt, same as the one Chris was wearing, along with the huge sweatpants they both had on. Chris wasn’t normally comfortable taking a stranger’s clothes, but Leon had assured Chris that Hannigan had chosen this place specifically because Mr. Valeth had been USSTRATCOM years ago and was trustworthy. Right now, all Chris could really see was how small Leon looked in that ratty shirt and not in his leather jacket.
Leon pulled back the blankets and dropped onto the bed, facing away from Chris. Chris did the same, but he looked up towards the ceiling. An almost awkward silence fell over them, both of them too wired to sleep and both of them too paranoid to fall asleep at all. The situation had been handled, the monsters were dead, but their lives were a constant loop and the viruses they dealt with brought the dead back to life in more ways than one. Just because they’d killed the problem today didn’t mean it couldn’t come back in the middle of the night.
Still. The silence was heavy regardless of how Chris understood the reason for the silence. Leon was still stiff beside him, barely breathing from what Chris could feel through the mattress. Chris didn’t know if Leon was trying to keep from being detected by some unseen enemy or if he just wanted to keep from bother Chris. The silence became harder to think through, Chris staring at the ceiling and obsessing over the man beside him in the bed that suddenly felt too small for even a single child. His admiration, his attraction, his fuck-ups. It only took Chris a few moments to realize that there was never going to be a perfect moment between them. The moments would have to be made by them.
Then thunder cracked through the room, loud and alarming, stopping Chris’s heart. He squeezed the blanket in his fingers and told himself he liked the thunder— trauma wouldn’t get the best of him. It was just the clouds, just the storm, just nature being a dick. Chris was fine.
It took a second for Chris to realize that Leon, though, was not fine. In fact, Chris could feel the man tremble through the bed. For a moment, he wondered if he should ignore it, respect the man’s privacy and his tough exterior. Agent Leon S. Kennedy, scared of thunder? What a joke. Except Captain Chris Redfield was scared of the thunder too. He took in a deep breath and tried to think of something to say.
“When I was about fifteen, I told Claire that thunder was just God banging some angel so hard the headboards were knocking in heaven.”
Leon went completely still. “… Are you fucking kidding me?”
He probably should have said something else. “Sorry,” Chris said, sheepish. And then, “Sorry,” again.
“Double sorry? Sorry to god?”
“I’m sorry for what I said to you on the Osprey back in New York.”
Leon went still again.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Chris continued softly. “Shouldn’t have— belittled you like that. You were asking for help. For assurance. You were asking me to be a leader and give you some sort of comfort. Instead of being a good captain and a better person, I threw your own words back at you.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Leon.”
There was another edge of silence. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t surprised you said that at all.”
That didn’t make Chris feel any better. Leon hadn’t been surprised when Chris had acted like a complete fucking asshole. Fantastic. “You wanted to know we could keep fighting,” Chris said. “We can, Leon. We can go for as long as we need to. As long as we have to. But…” He kept his eyes on the ceiling. “If you need to stop. If you need to be safe somewhere else, no longer in the fight. If fighting for so long has made you care less about your own safety, you should quit.” He shook his head, hating the words, but hating that Leon needed to hear them even more. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever offered a way out for you. I don’t even know how you got involved, not really. Just know that you’ve suffered long enough. You can leave. You’ve done enough good.” He wet his lips and shut his eyes. “You can rest, soldier. We can continue the fight.”
Beside him, the bed was shaking again. It took him a moment to realize Leon was trying not to laugh. “You think I’m a soldier,” Leon said bitterly. “I’m a coward.”
“That’s the last word I would ever use to describe you.”
“That’s what I am.”
“Who the fuck told you that?”
Leon went quiet again. Then thunder rang, louder than before, too close and terrifying, and Leon shook with fear now, not laughter. There was a shaky intake of breath beside Chris, and then Leon asked, “You said god was clapping cheeks and that’s why I’m acting like such a pussy?”
“Jesus, Kennedy.”
Leon suddenly turned over, facing the ceiling too. He put a hand over his eyes like he wanted to hide. More thunder, and Leon jumped. “There was a storm,” he mumbled. “Back in Spain. Years ago. I had— I had the Plaga inside of me, squirming, eating me from the inside out to make room to grow. And the thunder kept going, and every time I heard it I thought I was under attack. There was no moment of peace, even when I was away from the Ganados. I was just so fucking on edge, over twelve hours straight. And ever since then, thunder just…”
Leon sucked in a shaky breath. “There was a storm in Raccoon City too. Not as bad as this, not as bad as Spain, and I was under a roof for most of it, but the thunder… I was scared I was missing the approach of something bad because the sound of the thunder drowned out everything else.” Chris watched Leon smile almost hatefully. “It’s just— a lot of bad things that happen in my life have the soundtrack of thunder.”
Chris grimaced. “I can relate.” The Queen Zenobia, the mansion in the Arklay Mountains, on the way to Marhawa Academy. “It’s just weather, Leon.”
“And it’s just blood.”
Chris looked to the ceiling, unable to stare at that smile for too long. He wet his lips again. “Always knew we had a lot more in common than we let on.”
Leon laughed, the sound sharp and broken. Thunder sounded just behind and Leon flinched badly, both hands coming up to cover his entire face. “I— I had this stupid thought,” Leon choked out, voice wet with emotion. “As a kid. If I covered my eyes— if I hid. If I couldn’t see the monsters, then they couldn’t see me.” That wretched smile was back and Chris wished he’d gotten to know the man years ago so he would know how to help him now. “I was stupid.”
“We all were when we were little,” Chris told him. “You’re not stupid now.”
“No, you’re right. I’m just an actual fucking coward.”
Chris’s breath caught in his throat. “I don’t think you’re a coward. You had your whole arm down a Tyrant’s throat not five hours ago. Where’s the cowardice there?”
Leon was still covering his eyes. “I’m a coward,” he said again. “I don’t do that shit with bravery in my heart. I do it because I’m ready to die.”
Chris— couldn’t breathe.
“I can’t afford to make plans past operations,” Leon said shakily. “That’s how I do what I do. I do what has to be done and I don’t plan on making it out alive. Get it?” Leon’s hands clenched into fists. “I don’t make plans that far ahead— I don’t make plans at all. Dead man walking, Redfield. As long as I bet on dying, everyone else will live.” He swallowed hard enough for Chris to see while Chris was too dumbfounded to respond. “I’m still afraid, though. I’m afraid of a lot of things.”
“Like what?” Chris asked.
“Why should I tell you?”
“I’m afraid of dying,” Chris replied. “I’ve seen it so much. It hurts. I know it has to hurt. But it hurts worse for the people left alive.” He stared at Leon’s silhouette against a flash of lightning from the window beyond and hated himself for throwing Leon’s words back at him in the Osprey months ago. “If you die, I’ll be the one left standing. I’m okay with fighting in a world where you’re retired, but dead? I…” He had a crush. A little more than a crush, if he was being honest. Attraction and dependency, knowing Leon was capable enough to carry them both. A desire for partnership and not just sex. It was more than a crush. “You… Let me make the plans for you.”
Leon finally pulled his hands from his face to look to Chris with bewilderment. Then thunder followed the lightning and Leon screwed his eyes shut, breathing through the instinctual fear. “What the fuck… does that mean, Redfield?” The younger man looked achingly vulnerable laying on the mattress beside Chris in a shirt that was two sizes too big. He was pale and his eyes were too deep. Chris could get lost in Leon S. Kennedy if he wasn’t careful. He’d nearly gotten lost in the hallway back in Arias’s hideout.
“Let me make the plans,” Chris beseeched. “You don’t plan that far ahead, I was being a dick when I said I didn’t either. I make plans, I make tons of plans, I have season tickets for the Ottawa Senators. Claire and I have the next three months plotted out so she can visit and we won’t have any surprises. And Jill comes over with Barry and his wife every Friday if we’re all in country. I make so many fucking plans. Let me make some for you.”
Leon stared at him. He didn’t respond.
“I kept asking you to come out,” Chris continued, not giving up, seeing a suicide risk and hating it because it made sense. If you tried to stay alive in the fight, you could risk blowing the whole operation and ending the world. It made sense not to care about your own wellbeing. Leon wasn't a coward, though. Chris was just selfish. “You kept saying no, and I don’t blame you, I was an asshole.”
“Not on purpose,” Leon argued, and that—
“Are you defending me to myself?”
Leon scowled. “Do you want me to just call you a piece of shit and not talk to you ever again?”
“Please don’t stop talking to me.”
Leon’s jaw clacked shut so hard that Chris had his teeth hit.
“I meant it,” Chris insisted. “Asking you to meet me all those times. I want to know you and be your friend. I want to take you to games and bars and hang out and be normal humans with you. I want you to come on those Fridays and I want to be with you and my sister because I know you two have a connection and it was never fair you didn’t get to be close. I want to be your friend, Leon. I want to be around you as much as I can.”
Leon stared into him, blue eyes flashing like the lightning outside. “You don’t want that, Chris,” he said, voice low. “You don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d never be foolish enough to want that.”
Chris steeled his jaw. “Try me.”
“Are you kidding?” Leon sat up, raising himself on his elbow, glaring down at Chris like he was upset. Thunder rolled, but Leon barely noticed past the fire burning in his eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about me! All you know is that I’m some fucking agent that does the same shit as you, but with less attention. You just know about Sherry and, and Hannigan, and,” and Leon was faltering, brow furrowing as he tried to come up with more things he thought Chris knew about him, already coming up short.
“Maybe I don’t know you all that well,” Chris said gently once Leon fell quiet. “But I know you’re strong and capable and smart and brave and cunning. I know your stealth is fantastic and you’re probably a better shot than me. I know you prefer driving fast and enjoy it. And I know you’d give your life for the people you care about. And, apparently, you’d give your life for complete strangers too. There’s a lot of things to admire about you, Leon. I’d love to become someone familiar to you.”
Leon gaped down at him. “You don’t mean that,” he denied. “If you knew me— really knew me. If you knew the secrets. The dark, awful things I want. If you knew all of that, you’d wish we weren’t even on the same planet.”
Chris met Leon’s gaze without fear and replied again, “Try me.”
Leon didn’t say anything, didn’t move for a long moment. Then he was swooping down, bending over Chris across the bed, kissing him as lightning flashed and illuminated every detail of Leon’s face. His furrowed brow, his soft, dyed hair, his lashes dusting his skin. Chris felt those lips on his own like a fracture and refused to let his eyes fall shut, wanting to commit what Leon looked like so close to memory. He also lifted his hand in the air, tangled his fingers in that luscious hair, and got his other hand around Leon’s strong neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. Leon let out this soft noise of surprise and his blue eyes flew open, alarmed. Chris didn’t pull away even as he felt Leon’s body stiffen with shock. Instead, he pushed Leon by his shoulder and laid the man on his back again, swinging over to straddle Leon’s waist and keep kissing him because Leon taste like soap and life and it was the most addicting thing Chris had ever had on his tongue.
“Wait,” Leon gasped into his mouth, hips squirming beneath Chris like he was trying to get comfortable. Chris loomed over him, running his hands down Leon’s shirt to slip beneath and drag up Leon’s skin, the toned muscles firm and jumping beneath his touch. “Wait, wait,” Leon repeated. “What’s happening?”
“You made some dumbass assumptions and now I’m correcting you in the most efficient and mutually-pleasurable way possible,” Chris told him, voice lilting as he sucked on Leon’s bottom lip. The man groaned softly and leaned up to seek out Chris’s lips as Chris pulled back to get a better idea of what he was doing and what he wanted to do. “Honestly, if I’d known you were as fucking desperate for me as I am for you, we would have had a very different conversation in Colorado.”
“I was on vacation, I had every right to be drinking.”
“I would’ve been on vacation with you, plowing you into a hotel bed and getting us noise complaints.”
Leon’s head dropped back onto the fluffy, paisley patterned pillow beneath him. “I meant it— I’m a coward.”
Chris shook his head, hand stroking Leon’s sharp hip bones as he looked down on the man from above, taking in the shadows that cast across Leon’s body, bleeding with bruises, old and new. “If I remember correctly, which I do because it was less than a minute ago, you were the one to make the first move.” He pushed up Leon’s shirt, bunching it beneath his armpits, bending down again to drag his lips down Leo’s abdomen and dip his tongue into Leon’s bellybutton, the younger man tasting of hard water and soap. He went lower and sucked a mark into the skin of Leon’s pelvic region, Leon’s hips jumping with the suction, breathless gasps leaving the man in ragged bursts. “You were braver than me,” Chris said, laving his tongue across Leon’s flesh, digging in blunt teeth next. “I owe you a beer.”
“What are you doing down there?” Leon asked, eyes dark as they peered down his own chest to where Chris was nestling between Leon’s legs, on his knees and playing with the hem of the sweatpants. “What’s happening?”
Chris raised a brow, grinned sharply. He made kissy lips and Leon looked more confused at the childish gesture. “I don’t know how long you’ve been crushing on me, Leon, but I’m sure you’ve thought about this mouth more than once.”
Leon caught on quickly, eyes lighting up with eagerness. “Hold on,” he said, grabbing Chris’s pillow and one of the throw pillows they’d tossed onto the floor. He put one behind his head, angling himself up so he was sitting halfway up and easily able to see Chris below, and then gave the other to Chris. And in all honesty, the consideration Leon was showing him was beyond sweet. Chris tucked the pillow beneath his own chest, dragging Leon a little further down the bed by his lips, loving the way Leon whimpered at the display of strength.
“Does that do it for you?” Chris asked as he began a slow pull at Leon’s sweatpants, working them down Leon’s hips. “Does that get you hot? Being thrown around, manhandled?”
“When it’s you, yeah,” Leon affirmed almost shyly. “Just you. Definitely not a fucking Tyrant.”Chris chuckled into Leon’s hip and yanked his sweatpants down in one smooth tug, Leon’s cock springing free and standing tall, hard and an an angry red at the tip that was beginning to glisten with desire. Leon stared dow at him, open mouthed and wanting. Chris winked up at the man before leaning in to kiss the tip lightly, smearing the precum across his lips. Leon groaned, loud and guttural, and Chris pinched his hip in admonishment. “We wouldn’t want to wake our lovely hosts, would we?”
“I’m gonna cum on your face,” Leon deadpanned.
Chris snorted a laugh and pressed his mouth to the side of the shaft, mouthing along it teasingly. “Pervert,” he accused with no heat. “Exhibitionist, right? You wanna be caught? Want someone to walk in and see you like this, fucked out and needy, begging for it?”
To his surprised, Leon shook his head. “Want them to know you want me,” Leon confessed in a tiny voice, eyes on where Chris was touching him. “Want them to know I-I’m worthy of you. Wanna feel good enough to be yours.” He pushed back into the pillows like he was trying to get away and smiled wretchedly as he let his bangs fall in front of his eyes. “See? Told you there was shit you wouldn’t like if you knew me.”
Chris pinched him again, made Leon look him in the eye and said, “That’s really fucking hot.” He kissed Leon’s cock again, ran his tongue along the vein beneath and relished the moan Leon choked on. “You’re more than worthy— we both are. And it’s really hot that you want people to know that you’re getting fucked by me.”
Leon’s smile became less painful and more disbelieving. Then he rolled his hips up, a hand coming down to tangle in Chris’s hair. “Suck me?” he asked, brow turned upwards like he was begging. “Wanna see you. Please?”
Chris grinned wide and raised a brow. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He kisses the side again, holds the shaft in his hand, runs his thumb along the sensitive skin and watches Leon’s expression contort. “Why don’t we see what this mouth can do?”
Chris went up and down on Leon in the same breath, taking the head in his mouth and sucking gently before going further. He wasn’t able to do a lot of fancy tricks, but what he lacked in finesse, he more than made up for in passion. Swallowing around Leon to encourage his throat to take more, Chris got halfway down Leon’s cock and bobbed, letting the head scrape on the back of Chris’s mouth and pressing his tongue flat against the shaft. Leon keened softly, head falling back into the pillows as his chest heaved with labored breaths. Chris took him as deep as he could before he reached his limit, using his hand to stroke the few inches his mouth couldn’t take. He looked up at Leon from beneath his lashes, watched the man struggle to keep control, and hummed around Leon’s cock.
Leon’s hips bucked upwards without control, a ragged sound ringing through the room, intermixing with a clap of thunder and sending Chris’s pulse racing. His own cock was hard between his legs, pressed to the mattress, trapped in the sweatpants. Chris ground against the blankets and fell up and down on Leon’s cock, sucking as hard as he could with each retreat and digging his tongue into the slit before sliding back down. Leon’s stomach jumped and his thighs twitched around Chris’s head, the strong muscles clamping around Chris’s ears and holding him tight. Leon bowed off the mattress, writhing as Chris twisted his tongue in time with his hand, overwhelming Leon. Chris moaned as a spurt of precum shot across his tongue and he wanted to taste more of Leon as soon as he could.
He relaxed his jaw even more and worked Leon deeper out of pure stubborn will. Leon moved too fast at one point, forcing his cock down Chris’s throat, and Chris gagged, but didn’t give up. He drew back up Leon’s cock, ignored the whispered apologies and the two hands framing his face while Leon sat up to try and see if he was okay. Chris suckled gently on the throbbing head before sinking back down, eyes shut, breathing out through his nose, and taking Leon down to the base, nose pressed into soft, downy curls.
Leon arched off the bed suddenly, face turned into the pillow to muffle an honest scream as he came down Chris’s throat. Chris immediately pulled up and off, stroking Leon’s cock through the orgasm and opening his mouth, widening his tongue, taking Leon’s release across his lips and into his mouth. “Oh fuck,” Leon sobs into the pillow, thrusting up without control through the aftershocks while Chris licked his lips clean of Leon’s cum. “Oh fuck.”
Then strong hands were taking Chris by the shoulders, pulling him up and laying him out atop Leon. Leon kissed Chris hungrily, unbothered by the taste of himself between them, and growled, “You’re fucking dirty, Redfield.” Nimble fingers snaked around Chris’s body to grab his ass and make his hips press down, Leon slipping a leg between Chris’s thighs and grinding into Chris’s hard, aching cock. “Gonna make a mess of you.”
“Jesus,” Chris gasped, letting himself be maneuvered into Leon’s lap and going boneless as Leon controlled the rut of his hips. Chris clung to the man’s shoulders, moaning uselessly into his neck and shaking as Leon braced himself on the mattress, hiking the leg up, lifting Chris’s lower half into the air and letting gravity do most of the work. Chris was on his knees and forced onto Leon’s leg, humping him wantonly as Leon gently bounced the leg itself. He stroked his hand through Chris’s hair and murmured soft praises into his ear, calling him gorgeous, prefect, everything Leon had ever wanted.
“Leon,” Chris whimpered, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Leon’s hand trailed down his back and took a handful of Chris’s ass, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. Pleasure raced through Chris and his cock jerked. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—”
Leon yanked Chris’s mouth to his own to kiss him like he was starving and Chris came hard into the sweatpants, trembling like a leaf atop Leon and moaning like a slut. Leon swallowed the sound and pet Chris’s sides as he came down from the high of the orgasm, limp across Leon, breathing raggedly. Outside, thunder sounded like a gunshot, and Leon remained calm beneath him, kissing Chris’s feverish skin.
“These aren’t my pants,” Chris slurred into Leon. “And that’s not your shirt.”
Leon laughed softly and Chris wondered if this was the first time he’d heard Leon legitimately laugh. It made sense that Leon was a special kind of loose and easygoing after sex. Chris was too. It helped that Leon was the one holding him, the one keeping eyes on the room while Chris came back to himself. He could trust Leon to look over them both, no doubts included. “I’ll wash your shit in the sink,” he told Chris. “Honestly, if they didn’t already suspect considering the single bed, I’m sure they’d have heard us.”
“Over the storm?” Chris shook his head and curled around Leon. “Unlikely.”
Leon hummed and kissed his cheek. “… You said you have dinners every Friday?”
Chris nodded, grinning softly at the idea of Leon joining him, finally, even as exhaustion finally settled into him in a way that clearly broadcasted he was about to pass out. “We usually choose who brings in the take out for us to eat.”
“Take out?” He felt Leon shake his hand. “I’ll cook. Let me cook. How’s your kitchen?”
“A war zone.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” Leon held him a little tighter. “… If you make the plans, I’ll do my best to make time to be there.” He rolled onto his side, rolling Chris with him, setting on his side and facing Chris. “No idea how this is gonna work out, but if you’re planning, then it’ll be fine.” He pecked Chris’s lips. “Thanks for not punching me when I kissed you.”
“Thanks for kissing me,” Chris murmured.
Leon smiled and Chris was grateful for the flash of lightning that allowed him to see it perfectly. “G’night, Chris,” Leon said, curling into him. “Thanks for— everything.”
Chris nodded, but couldn’t verbally respond, too tired. All he could do was wrap his arms around Leon’s shoulders and draw the man into his chest, hoping he understood. As Leon nestled into him, kissed his neck and finally, finally relaxed, Chris knew Leon had heard him loud and clear.