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The first light of dawn slipped through the broken boards of the farmhouse in pale strips, illuminating the dust motes in the air, settling over ruined furniture and tattered, discarded drapes. Leon had been awake long before it arrived. He lay on his back on the warped wooden floor, one arm bent beneath his head, listening.
He heard nothing— no chanting, no footsteps, no bells.
That was almost worse, and he had a sense of something lurking just out of view, waiting for its opportunity to strike.
Across the room, Luis was still asleep— or pretending to be. Leon hadn't decided which. He was sprawled half against the wall, long legs stretched out, jacket discarded some time in the night. The knife Leon had taken off him hours ago rested on the crate between them, exactly where he'd left it.
He told himself he was just watching the door, but his eyes kept drifting back to Luis anyway.
Luis's chest rose and fell slowly, the steady rhythm at odds with the chaos they'd barely escaped the night before. There was a faint line of blood at his temple— Leon's handiwork, technically, from dragging him clear when the floor had collapsed. Leon had cleaned it as best he could with what little water they'd had, his fingers lingering on the man's skin just a bit longer than necessary. The aftermath of adrenaline, he told himself.
Leon let out a sigh and sat up and checked his gear. That, at least, was a familiar, reliable routine to cling to. He reached for his pistol, checking the magazine, his movements automatic. Comms had been offline since sometime yesterday, which was concerning, but as far as he knew, they were still on track to make it to the extraction point in time.
Somewhere behind him, fabric rustled. Leon didn't turn to look. "You're awake."
"Tragic, I know," Luis said, yawning. "Was hoping to sleep until noon. Alas—"
Leon cut him off, "We're moving in five. You good to walk?"
There's a pause, and then, "Wow. Straight to business. No coffee, no breakfast, no 'how did you sleep after almost dying?'"
Leon rolled his eyes. He'd been awake for all of two seconds and already the Spaniard was on his last nerve. He finally turned to him, replacing his pistol in its holster.
Luis was sitting up now, dark eyes sharp despite just waking up. A slow smile spread across his face when he saw Leon looking, like he was gearing up for another smart quip.
"You didn't answer the question," Leon said, jaw tightening.
Luis glanced down at himself, rolling one shoulder experimentally. "Sí, I'll live."
Leon crossed the room in two long strides before he could second guess it, crouching down in front of Luis, close enough that his knee brushed against Luis's thigh. "Any pain?" he asked.
For once, the man didn't have a smart comeback, his eyes dropping to Leon's mouth, and then back— only briefly, but long enough that Leon noticed. "Nothing I can't handle," he said.
He straightened up a bit too fast, turning away to snatch his jacket off a jagged pile of wood that used to be a chair. He told himself this was just another mission. Another day, another ally he had to keep alive.
But when they stepped out into the cold morning air together, their shoulders brushing as they passed through the narrow doorway, Leon had to the distinct, unsettling feeling that something was about to shift.
The morning air was cold enough to bite. Leon scanned the tree line, the forest still and watchful, branches black against the pale sky. Frost clung to the dead grass near the farmhouse, crunch softly under the boots as they moved away from the relative safety of the structure.
Luis walked just a half-step behind, close enough that Leon could feel it without looking.
"You always walk like that?" Luis asks, "You look like you're expecting the ground to give up on you at any moment."
Leon slowed, eyes still scanning their surroundings. "You'd be surprised how often it does," he says.
There was a beat of silence, then Luis laughed, low and quiet, the sound curling warm against the cold air. Leon felt it settle somewhere between his shoulders, irritating and distracting in equal measure.
They moved through the trees in silence for awhile, broken only by the distant cawing of a crow, the creak of leather, and the faint metallic sound of their gear. Leon stayed alert, watching shadows, unnerved by the lack of movement in the surrounding woods. He found himself adjusting his pace without thinking, matching Luis's stride.
Every so often, Luis drifted too close— a brush of an elbow, a near collision when the path narrowed. Each time, Leon felt it like a static shock, sharp and brief, gone too quickly to do anything about it.
"You know," Luis said, "for someone who insists this is just another mission, you're awfully attentive."
Luis almost bumped into him again, catching himself with a muttered curse. Leon turned, one eyebrow lifting. "You saying I shouldn't be?"
"No, no," Luis replied, hands raised in mock surrender. "I'm saying I feel very . . . cared for. Should I be flattered?"
Leon turned, catching Luis's sharp gaze. There was something like amusement sparkling in the Spaniard's eyes, and he didn't much care for it. Still, it gave him momentary pause, lingering a bit too long before he tore his gaze away.
"Stay sharp," he said, "This area's probably rigged."
Luis laughed again, far too relaxed for the situation they found themselves in. "I always am— don't you worry about me, Sancho."
Again with the stupid nickname. Instead of a response, Leon kept walking, unable to stop the faint, unwelcome warmth creeping up the back of his neck.
By midmorning the silence has shifted to a strange, simmering tension. Like the world around them was holding its breath. Leon felt it in his gut, that low, crawling sense of wrongness that he's learned to trust. He raised a hand, signaling Luis to stop, then crouched to inspect the ground.
A wire— thin, nearly invisible; just a faint shimmer of dew indicating its presence. "Trap," Leon murmured.
Luis crouched beside him, leaning in close enough that Leon could feel his breath against his ear. "Charming place," he said, "Very welcoming."
Leon shot him a withering look. "You wanna keep your legs, I suggest you take a step back."
"Ah," Luis said, raising his hands and dutifully taking a few long strides backward. "Sorry for distracting you."
He chucked to himself, but Leon ignored it and disarmed the trap with careful precision— fingers steady despite his creeping sense of unease. Still, he was painfully aware of Luis's eyes on him like a physical weight. When it was done, Leon straightened, dusting his hands off on his pants.
"Clear," he said. "Let's keep moving."
Luis's eyes lingered on him, assessing him coolly. "You make it look easy."
Leon waved a dismissive hand in his direction, pulling his gun from its holster and progressing down the path more cautiously. Luis followed, quiet again, for now.
As the sun climbed higher, Leon realized something he didn't like: whatever was building between them hadn't eased as the day wore on. If anything, it had only tightened, every near miss and shared glance winding it further. Somewhere deep in his chest, beneath the training and the protocol and his common sense, Leon had a suspicion that the tension was about to snap. It would be a fatal mistake, to let this man continue to worm his way under his skin, but the idea lodged in his mind like a splinter under his skin.
By noon, the cold had burned away, replaced by a light but insistent head that built beneath Leon's jacket. Sweat beaded at the base of his neck and trickled slowly down his spine, but he resisted the urge to shrug the jacket off. He needed to his hands free.
The terrain grew less forgiving as they pushed deeper— rocky inclines, narrow paths hemmed in by brambles, and crumbling stone walls. Leon took point, clearing each bend before signaling Luis forward with a wave of his hand. He could feel the man behind him without needing to look, a steady, attentive presence that did nothing to cool the unease. Even more unsettling was how quickly he'd anchored himself to that presence.
They skirted the edge of a ravine where the ground narrowed to little more than a ledge. Leon moved first, boots finding purchase on instinct, one hand braced against the rocky surface. Halfway across, loose gravel shifted underfoot behind him.
"Careful," Leon said, already turning.
Luis stumbled, just slightly, and Leon caught him without thinking— one hand snapping out to grab the front of his jacket, the other bracing his shoulder. The impact was solid, their bodies colliding close enough that Leon felt the sharp exhale of Luis's breath against his throat.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Luis's hand curled onto Leon's sleeve, finger tight against the leather.
"Well," Luis said, laughing nervously on the exhale, his voice a shade rougher than before, "that could have been embarrassing."
That was one word for it. Leon glanced down into the rocky ravine below, his pulse beating fast in his ears. "You good?" he asked.
Luis nodded, eyes flicking down, taking in the closeness, the way Leon's hand was still fisted in his jacket. Something unreadable crossed his expression before his familiar sly grin slid back into place. "Prince Charming to the rescue once again, eh?"
Leon released him, hand moving like he just touched a hot stove, sliding further down the ledge and clearing his throat. "Watch your footing."
They crossed the rest of the way in silence.
Later, when they ducked into the shade of a ruined outbuilding to rest, Leon leaned against the stone wall, focusing on his breathing. He took stock of his surroundings again, and triple checked his gear— anything to avoid looking at Luis, who dropped down beside him, bumping his shoulder into him in a way that felt intentional, though his body language was still irritatingly nonchalant.
Luis pulled a cigarette from his pocket, turning it between his fingers. He didn't light it.
"You're wound tight," he said.
Leon rolled his eyes, shooting him a sideways glance. "We're not exactly on vacation."
"No," Luis agreed. His gaze lingered on Leon's face, searching. "But you don't relax, even when it's quiet."
Leon scoffed. "That's when shit tends to go sideways."
Luis gave him a small, knowing smile. "I'd hate to see what you consider peaceful then."
Eventually, Leon pushed off the wall. "Let's move."
Luis stood too, directly in Leon's way, so he had to step around him. Their eyes met, briefly, and Leon felt it again— that sense of the screws tightening, drawing him inexorably toward a breaking point.
Luis paused to light his cigarette. "There's no time for that, we have to go," Leon said, huffy.
"Relax, Sancho, I can smoke and walk," Luis retorted.
Leon shook his head, moving back onto the path. The sinister silence of the forest continued, and he couldn't afford to be distracted when the trap that was surely awaiting them inevitably sprung.
Slowly the forest gave way to stone. Ruined architecture began to surface through the undergrowth— collapsed walls and broken archways half-swallowed by moss and ivy. Whatever this place had once been, nature was reclaiming it. The air felt different here, closer, and heavy with the scent of damp earth and rot.
Leon slowed, raising a hand.
Luis stopped immediately this time, without his customary commentary. Good. Leon took that in with a flicker of approval that he didn't want to examine too closely.
They moved cautiously through what remained of a corridor, stone walls pressing on either side. The ground dipped slightly underfoot, uneven, as though it had been disturbed and resettled more than once. Eventually they reached a spot where there was more roof overhead than sky. Leon swept the beam of his flashlight over the floor, eyes narrowing. It was too clean— free of debris and dust.
His grip tightened on his gun. "I don't like this," he muttered.
Luis leaned in close, voice low, "You say that a lot. Care to elaborate?"
Leon startled slightly, shooting him a sharp look over his shoulder. "You want in-depth commentary, or a way out alive?" he snapped.
Luis's mouth twitched with a faint flicker of amusement. "Preferably both."
The corridor bent sharply to the right, narrowing further until Leon had to turn sideways to pass. He felt stone scrape his shoulder, the heat of Luis directly behind him, unavoidable now in the tight space. Each step brought them closer to together, their breath echoing off the stone walls, movements unconsciously syncing up, until eventually the path widened again and they could walk normally.
"Leon," Luis said quietly.
Leon paused. "What?"
"You're doing that thing again," he said.
Leon turned his head just enough to see Luis's questioning eyes in the partial darkness. "What thing?"
"Brooding."
Leon huffed under his breath, "I am not brooding. Keep your voice down."
"I'm just . . . observing," Luis said, amusement in his tone.
Leon should have told him to shut up, should have kept moving. Instead, he hesitated, caught between instinct and something far less useful.
"You want to observe," Leon said, his voice low and controlled, "do it after we're out of here. Better yet, spend less time watching me and more time looking for traps."
Luis laughed, "Keep talking like that, and I might start getting ideas."
Leon turned away sharply, jaw tight, and took another step forward. The floor gave subtly under his boot. A click.
Leon froze. Luis seemed to sense it immediately. "Leon—"
"Don't move," Leon said, quickly cutting him off.
His heart kicked against his ribs as he looked down, carefully, inch by inch. Below him were stone tiles, seamless except for the faintest outline beneath his foot— a pressure plate.
Leon swallowed. "Okay," he said, more to himself than Luis. "This is fine."
Luis let out a slow breath behind him. "You always say that when it isn't."
Slowly, Leon tried to shift his weight, testing. The mechanism responded with a soft whir deep in the walls, like something waking up.
Luis cursed on his breath. "That sounds . . . bad."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Leon said.
He risked a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see a rusted iron coming down from the ceiling behind them. Luis was close— too close. And now there was no way to retreat as the of metal on stone echoed in the corridor, blocking any chance of retreat. There was no way to reposition safely.
Leon exhaled, steadying himself. "Listen to me. I need you to do exactly what I say."
Luis's expression shifted, humor draining away, replaced with sharp focus. "I'm listening."
Leon hesitated. He wasn't sure what the plan was. Not yet. And there was that feeling again— a tightness in his chest. The weight of the day settling in, he assumed. Still, there was something about the way Luis was looking at him that felt . . . different.
The mechanism seemed to shift again, gears engaging, the walls beginning to move in, another gate dropping down from the other side, penning them in.
They were trapped.
The corridor shuddered as the second gate slammed down, dust shaking loose from the ceiling in a dry, choking cloud. The walls didn't stop moving once the gates fell, but continued to creep inward, slow and deliberate, stone grinding against stone with a sound that set his teeth on edge.
Finally, blessedly, the grinding stopped. But it left the two of them pressed chest to chest in a space that was too tight to move around in, with no clear way out. But the faint mechanical hum had stopped, and the pressure plate below Leon's foot felt inert. Which might be a good sign.
Leon frowned, thinking.
Luis tested the gate behind Leon with one hand, and it didn't so much as rattle. "Mierda," he muttered under his breath. "Trapped like a couple of fucking sardines in a can— just my luck."
Leon's eyes trailed up into the darkness above. He shifted against Luis, slowly freeing his arm so he could train his flashlight beam on the ceiling above them, illuminating a wooden hatch that seemed to be flush with the rock. There was no handle, or any obvious release mechanism.
"Looks like that's our exit," Leon said.
"How are we supposed to make it all the way up there?" Luis asked, incredulous.
"You have a better idea?" Leon shot back, "Unless you'd rather die in this hole."
"That thing looks old, probably rusted shut," Luis said, eyeing the hatch warily.
Leon didn't have time for this. If they were going to make it to the extraction point, they had no other choice. "You're smaller, I'll boost you," Leon said, shifting back as far as the cramped space would allow to cup his hands in front of him. "Give me your foot."
Luis grumbled something in Spanish, but he complied, easing his leg up and into the foothold Leon provided. The space was so tight that Luis's body dragged up the side of Leon's face as he grunted under the Spaniard's weight.
"Almost," Luis said, and Leon shifted his stance to push him up another few inches.
When he'd lifted him high enough, Luis pressed against the hatch, and when that didn't work he banged on it, sending dust and loose gravel down onto Leon, who gritted his teeth, straining to push Luis further.
"It's stuck!" Luis called down to him.
"Keep pushing," Leon said through gritted teeth, his arms starting to shake from the strain.
Luis wobbled precariously, his foot slipping from Leon's grasp and sending him tumbling back down into the hole with a cry of surprise. Leon caught him by the waist, arms instinctively folding around him to grip the back of his jacket so tightly he could feel Luis's heart racing against his chest. Luis swore, muttering something to himself Leon could barely hear over the rush of blood in his ears.
For a tense moment, they stayed like that, locked in an embrace, neither moving.
"Sorry," Luis murmured.
Leon didn't answer. His hands were still gripping the back of his coat, holding him upright, though it wasn't entirely necessary. The contact felt dangerous . . . charged.
"I will be very annoyed if we die in this hole," Luis said.
Leon let out a short, shaky breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Shut up," he said.
Luis turned his head, and their noses brushed. The silence stretched on for what felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds. And then Luis leaned in, his lips crashing into Leon's.
Leon surprised himself by kissing back just as quickly, his hands tightening around Luis as if he'd been waiting for this, the rough scratch of the other man's stubble grating against his face.
He shoved Luis back, both men breathing heavy. "We can't," he said, "We need to get out of here."
Luis just nodded, though his eyes glimmered with something that might have been hunger.
"Back to back— we can use the walls as leverage to get up there," Leon said, already turning around.
He could feel Luis pressed into his from behind, a little jolt running through him when he pressed in closer. "You know, Sancho, this is a very compromising position."
"Do you want to die? If not, I suggest you shut up and turn around," Leon snapped.
"Alright, alright . . . so pushy," Luis said.
When they were back to back, Leon lifted his feet until they were pressed into the wall a little ways off the ground. Slowly, they ascended, walking up the walls, Luis grunting and swearing the whole way.
It took considerable effort, both of them pushing against the wood, trying to maintain footholds in the wall, but eventually it gave.
Panting and sweating, they tumbled out onto the ground. Leon surveyed their surroundings as Luis lit another cigarette.
"You want to talk about it?" he said, smirking.
"No." At the moment, Leon was only concerned about getting his bearings and making it to the extraction point. He couldn't afford to be thinking about what happened down there, and how is body had responded— a betrayal.
"Suit yourself."
Just as they began moving again, Leon's comms beeped, relief flooding him when a voice came through the line.
"Condor One, this is Roost, come in."
"Condor One— I hear you," Leon said.
"Lost you there for a bit," the woman's voice said, "Are you heading to the extraction point?"
"Be right there," he said, "I'm pretty sure we're still headed in the right direction. Condor One out."
⫘⫘⫘
In the end, they made it to the chopper. Not without some smug remarks from Luis though, and Leon was grateful when the whirr of the helicopter blades drowned him out.
Alone in his hotel room, Leon could finally relax— or so he thought.
A knock on the door interrupted his ruminations, and he's less than pleased to see Luis through the peephole. He opened the door.
"What do you want, Luis?" he said, a bit snappy.
In answer, Luis squeezed inside, closing the door behind him. He found himself once again chest to chest with the man, who was smirking at him in a way he didn't much care for.
"Come on, Sancho, surely you are not content with just a little taste," Luis said, "Unless I misread the signals."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Leon said, though his pulse quickened, remembering the kiss.
"Oh, I think you do know," Luis said, stepping forward, his hand on Leon's chest. Leon unconsciously stepped backward, until his back found the wall.
For a tense moment they locked eyes, and Leon found his face heating despite himself. He let out a shaky breath. "Do I?"
Luis laughed, his hand trailing down until it found the bulge in Leon's pants. "Your body does, at least."
"Fuck it." The words were barely out of Leon's mouth before the other man's lips were on him again, fierce and hungry.
Their clothed discarded in a rush, Luis guided Leon toward the bed and shoved him roughly onto it, the mattress creaking in protest and Luis clambered up nimbly after him. In one fluid motion Luis flipped him around, pinning Leon to his chest with an arm barred across his neck.
"Ah, so you're actually here to kill me, are you? Coulda just said that," Leon said, panting.
"It crossed my mind," Luis says, his voice low and teasing as he nipped at Leon's earlobe, "But no— I'm just here to fuck you." He pressed his erection against Leon's ass as if you confirm his intentions, a rush of heat coursing through Leon as his body relaxed— only slightly— against Luis's.
He heard a click as Luis opened a bottle of lube, and he didn't have any time to wonder where he'd gotten it before Luis was slipping a finger into his ass, first one, and then a second, working them in and out in a come-hither motion, stretching him.
Leon bit back a moan as Luis's fingers grazed his prostate, earning him a low chuckle in his ear. "Don't hold back, Leon, let me hear you," he purred.
"How about you just do what you came here for?" Leon bit back, still not wanting to give Luis any ground even though the man was currently knuckle-deep in his ass.
"Ha! You like it rough, do you?" Luis said, the smirk evident in his tone. "As you wish."
The fingers withdrew, and Leon tensed as he felt Luis's cock pressing at his entrance. "Mierda! I knew you were a bit of a tight-ass, but this is insane," Luis said, "Relax a little, will you?"
Begrudgingly, Leon did, and Luis filled him slowly, this time succeeding in pulling a moan from Leon's throat. One arm still holding Leon upright against his chest, and other digging into his hips, Luis pulled nearly all the way out, then thrusted roughly into him, again and again. Finally, Leon gave into the sensation, crying out with each thrust. It was far from gentle, but he couldn't deny the pleasure building in his center.
His body went taut, like a rubber band about to snap, and Luis reached around, gripping Leon's cock firmly and sliding a thumb over the slit. "Not yet," he said, continuing to thrust even as he denied Leon's orgasm, the pressure building to delirium.
Luis shuddered behind him, his cock pulsing deep inside as he came. Still holding Leon firmly in place, he began to stroke his cock, slowly, until Leon was about to burst. Cruelly, he squeezed his cock again, once again denying him.
"What kind of sick game are you playing?" he said through gritted teeth, squirming against Luis as the other man laughed.
"Just teasing you a little," Luis said. "It's quite entertaining."
"Fuck you," Leon said, not willing to beg for release.
"I think we are well past that," Luis retorted, beginning to stroke again in the same maddeningly slow rhythm.
The third time he cut off Leon's orgasm a whimper escaped his lips against his will. Still, he didn't struggle, even though he knew he could easily overpower Luis in a physical altercation.
"I'm beginning to suspect you like this," Luis teased, his breath hot in Leon's ear.
"Shut up," Leon said, his voice sounding pathetic in his own ears, earning another laugh from Luis.
Again and again, Luis brought him to the brink of orgasm, only to cut it off with a thumb pressed to his slit, his spent cock still buried deep inside Leon's ass. Leon had dissolved into a whimpering mess, but he still wouldn't give Luis the satisfaction of begging for it.
"Alright," Luis said, finally, "I think I have toyed with you enough."
He resumed stroking Leon's cock, faster this time— almost too fast, sending Leon rocketing over the edge, thick ropes of cum shooting out over the bed sheets. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, panting, Luis's cock slipping out of him with a wet pop.
Luis wasted no time crawling out of the bed, retrieving his cigarettes from the pocket of his discarded pants.
"You can't smoke in here," Leon said, "I'm not paying the cleaning fees."
Luis just chuckled at that and pulled on his clothes. "I think I will take my leave then," he said.
Part of Leon wanted to protest, but instead he just watched from the bed as Luis got dressed.
"This was fun. Let's do it again sometime," Luis said, his hand on the door.
"Don't push your luck."
That seemed to amuse Luis greatly, the cigarette in his lips jostling with his laughter. "Adiós!"
And with that, he was gone, the door clicking closed quietly behind him as his laughter echoed in the hallway outside.