Work Text:
It’s late … or it’s early, depending how you saw the clock, when Leon slipped gracefully (thank you Krauser for the reflexes, and nothing fucking else) from his barstool and the woman half sitting on it. He raised his hand in some lazy excuse lost behind the thrumming bass destroying the speakers by the stage. He turned toward the bathroom. She’d take the hint.
Hopefully.
Leon pissed for about five years, head resting on the flier-plastered wall. His ears buzzed, drowning out the music coming in through the walls almost completely. He should have just stayed in the hotel. Cheaper. Could have ripped through a bottle in peace, instead of one overpriced shot at a time.
Company wasn't as good though, which was saying something. Leon hadn't willingly spoken to a soul the whole night.
He ignored the door as it swung open, ignored the guy who'd come in after it as he leaned into the urinal next to him, hand around the neck of a beer as he leaned against the wall.
His right hand, his wrong hand for balance for taking a leak. Leon felt eyes on him, heavy and undeniable, and ached for the gun he'd left in the hotel safe. He had his knife, a smaller pistol in his boot, but he had his dick in his hand and as his heart pounded the familiar rhythm of fight or flight, he realized a fight may not be the only thing a guy could be trying to pick.
He looked over - sneakers and worn jeans, a hideously patterned shirt open across a thick chest - “Chris,” he said with surprise as he quickly zipped his fly. “How'd you find me?”
“Wasn't looking for you. This time.” Chris looked amused but he didn't smile. He kept his eyes on Leon's. How polite. “I called you.”
“Thought you weren't looking for me.” Leon snagged the bottle from Chris’ loose fingers, tracking the drop of his eyes as he took a long pull. He made a face. Recent time in Colorado or not, he just couldn't get down with beer. Doesn't mean he'll give it back though, side stepping Chris as he reached for it with a huff. He downed the rest and tossed the bottle cleanly into the garbage can before turning to the sink.
Chris was right on his tail, leaning against the neighboring sink. “I stopped when you didn't answer. Looking,” he clarified at Leon's questioning brow.
“Yet here you are.” The bar had that shitty pink powder soap that makes your hands smell like ass. Works great on grime though, so Leon pumped the dispenser for more.
Maybe he could scrub away the full-body heebie jeebies from being manhandled by a fucking Tyrant. Again.
It at least got the dirt that'd been caked around his nails since the fight, so that was nice.
A look in the mirror showed Chris was still watching him intently. His cheek was swollen and purpling, the scratches by his eye already scabbing. “Didn’t know this was your scene.”
Leon shrugged. “Got alcohol, don’t they?” Chris heaved a sigh and Leon turned to him, drying his hands on his jeans. “You got something to say, Redfield?”
“I can think of some things.” He moved into Leon’s space, leaning a heavy arm on his shoulder to stop him flinching away. His fingers curled into the hair at the back of Leon’s neck, scratched up the back of his head. “You letting this grow out?”
Leon tried to brush him off but it was halfassed, and Chris was a dick. He tightened his fist around Leon’s hair, pulling his head back some. “Haven’t had time to get it cut,” Leon said, trying to ignore how his breath hitched.
“Don’t.” Chris let his hair go but made no move past sweeping his thumb down Leon’s neck. “Looks good like this.”
The band started up a new track outside and Leon felt the drums kick low in his belly. His heartbeat sped up to match and he knew Chris felt it as he grinned down at him. He scoffed. “Like I’m taking fashion tips from someone wearing an arcade carpet.”
“Shut up, you like it.”
“I most definitely do not.” He followed Chris’ crooked smile down to the bob of his Adam’s apple, the low neck of the black tank under his hideous shirt. It had fallen open enough the cut of muscles over his collar bone peeked out, begging to be kissed, bitten. Chris’ eyes were half closed when Leon glanced back up.
He pushed Leon’s hair back, let it fall back in place brushing his cheeks. He traced the curve of Leon’s brow, his cheek, until Leon relaxed into it. He blinked slow, head fuzzy and light in Chris’ hands. He reached blindly for the sink, something to prop up against.
“You look like shit,” Chris said, not unkindly. Leon knew that. He had barely washed his face after the fight with Arias, combed through his hair with his fingers. It had been easier to refresh the eyeliner he’d worn two nights ago than wash it off, let it disguise the weary bruising under his eyes. He needed to shave days ago, made more obvious as Chris cupped his hand around his chin and reeled him in.
Leon met him halfway, popping up on his toes and grabbing Chris by the collar. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, but every time they did this felt like the first - breathless, illicit. Leon blamed it on Chris’ goody-goody soldier boy attitude, the noises he made like he was surprised Leon wanted him back. The push and pull of his hands, unsure if they were doing something bad.
That was okay; Leon liked being his forbidden fruit.
He rested his arms on Chris’ shoulders, pulled him down so they were chest to chest. He walked Chris back into the wall, swallowing his surprised grunt as he hit. It was too easy to go straight for the gold, always more fun to make him squirm.
He hadn't gotten Chris to beg yet, but that was just a matter of time.
He slipped his leg between Chris’, hardly able to move when he tensed his treetrunk thighs the moment Leon grazed his knee up to his ass. He had enough play to tilt his hips, tuck up against Chris and let him feel how hard he was.
Chris predictably went all soft, mouth lax under Leon’s, body pliant enough he could step closer and pull Chris down enough their hips aligned. He rolled his hips and he was worked up enough he could come like that but he wanted more. Chris’ stupor started to clear as Leon unzipped his jeans, worked his hand in to cup his balls, rub his wrist against his cock.
God, it was always such a trip to see how fucking thick he was. It was unfair, how proportional the man was. But Leon’s mouth went dry thinking how he couldn’t complain that much. Not when life came back to Chris’ eyes and he grabbed Leon’s hips and walked him back into the room’s single stall.
They had one rule - unspoken, but there none the less - no hotels. They’d fuck in cars, bathrooms. One memorable time Leon had blown Chris while he flew them out of a fucking warzone. In a hotel, in a bed … there was too much to lose. If Leon saw how soft Chris’ eyes went at his first touch, how he relaxed against Leon's body, if he gave him that fucking look kneeling over him, pressing him down into the mattress …
Leon shivered as Chris shoved him against the wall, bracketing his shoulders as he played keep away with his body. Leon grabbed for him, hand slipping over his chest, his neck, kissing him as he worked his cock through his boxers.
He knew Chris was teasing him right back, but damn if Leon didn't fall for it every time. He slipped down the wall, keeping a hand on Chris for balance in case his knee got dodgy from smashing it through the glass railing on the roof hours ago.
Chris’ boxers were wet where his cock had rubbed and Leon ran the flat of his tongue across the fabric until he caught the head of Chris’ cock. He licked until the cotton was soaked through and slipped his lips around it.
“Oh, shit,” Chris swore above him, fingers curling against the wall. Leon dug his into Chris’ hips, swirling his tongue as he watched his face contort. Need and annoyance, what took root on his face every time he looked at Leon.
Fuck, that look in his eyes had Leon by the fucking neck. He flicked the tip of his tongue over Chris’ tip as he dug his hands into his pockets. Lighter, change, aha! He felt the telltale zigzag edge of a condom and palmed it as he stood.
Need was winning the war for Chris’ expressive face, hardly slipping when Leon flicked him on the forehead with the packet. “Thought you weren't looking for me.”
“I was.” He always was a shit liar.
Leon couldn't stop the grin cracking his face as he leaned back against the wall to unzip his jacket, his jeans, Chris watching with open hunger. He slipped his hand around Leon's waist, cupping the small of his back such that his fingertips pressed against the fresh bruise creeping along his ribs. Leon winced.
“Are you okay?” Chris asked, eyes instantly darkening with intensity as his brows wrinkled with concern. He pulled Leon's shirt up, more clinical than sexy, and Leon pushed him away. He hissed Leon's name.
“Not broken. Just bruised. Leave it,” he said, wrapping his hands behind Chris’ head to pull him down.
The big boulder of a man didn't move though. “Leon, bruised is still bad. You need a doctor.”
“For what? They'll just tell me to rest, not breathe so deep for a week. Don't get thrown around so much. I need that as much as I need you telling me what to do.” He grabbed Chris’ cock, not the least bit deterred. “What I need, Redfield, I think you well know.”
“Fuck, you really have a one track mind, don't you.” Chris leaned into him, careful to avoid his right side, and kissed up his neck. Leon tilted his head back with a sigh. He grabbed the collar of Chris’ horrible shirt to anchor him in place. He was proving single minded himself as he worked a string of soft bruises down his neck, under his shirt as he slipped his jacket from his shoulder.
Leon took it off and threw it over the stall wall. Chris hummed approval against his skin, wrapping his hands around Leon's ass and pulling him in tight. Leon worked his own under Chris’ undershirt, and had the tact to not bring up his own hot spots of bruises and scrapes. He cupped his hands around his pecs, let Chris’ nipples slip between his fingers. That always made him crazy.
He dropped his forehead against Leon's shoulder, pressing hard into his kneading hands with an aborted whine. He was always so quiet the sound went right to Leon's dick, made him dizzy with need and not just alcohol. “Please tell me you brought more than just the rubber.”
Chris pulled a small bottle of lube from his back pocket. Leon hadn't checked there since he usually just had his smokes in that pocket. “Fucking boy scout,” he said, leaning up to catch Chris’ grinning lips. He did a little shimmy to work his jeans down under his ass, not so easy with the pain flaring up his arm. That, he may have fractured, using his arm to break a fall like an idiot. Or from being thrown into a wall.
Chris dropped his hands to Leon's bare hips, thumbs tracing the crease of his legs while his fingers dug into his ass. He yanked Leon's hips forward, watched his cock jump at the treatment with dark eyes. “Fuck, Leon.”
“‘s what I'm waiting for.” Leon licked his lips, rolled his hips in Chris’ hands, and that was the last straw. Chris turned him around, burying his face in the back of his neck as he pulled Leon further from the wall, hips up and back against him. Leon let his sore right arm dangle, cushioned his head against the other, and all but abandoned his body to Chris’ whims.
Not like he'd complain when Chris swiped slick fingers up from his balls to circle maddeningly just below his entrance. Leon groaned; it felt like Chris had hands inside him, up in his gut where even he couldn't reach.
That was a new trick. Leon wondered where Chris had picked it up, swallowing the thick bile of jealousy and pushing back into the touch. Chris reached around him, equally slick hand wrapping around his cock and just gently squeezing as he slid his fingers inside.
He took his time opening Leon up, always did. After the first couple times, Leon figured it was more for himself than anything else. Leon arched into his selfish touch, more than a little indulgent himself as Chris guarded his mouth less and less, letting little needy sounds free against his neck.
He slid another finger into Leon as he relaxed, jerked him off slowly. He was barely holding himself together, each thrust a little quicker, a little sharper, his breath harsh against Leon's ear. Leon had to brace his right arm low on the wall so he wouldn't be hauled back and forth with each movement.
“Come on,” he said. It didn't come out as casual as he wanted, lust turning his voice breathy, needy. Chris didn't reply but Leon felt his breath hitch against his back. “Please.”
“Oh fuck, Leon. I'm. Yeah.” He gave Leon's dick another couple purposeful strokes before pulling back, resting his hand on the small of his back as he twisted his other hand, pulled out one finger at a time.
Leon's heart beat in his throat; this was the moment that got him, every time. Open and waiting, bent over and wanting. The moment stretched on forever as Chris got his shit together. He pulled Leon's ass open with his thumbs, the obscenity of it pushing him to teeter on the edge. Leon's legs were trembling and there was nothing he could do to stop them.
Finally, finally, he felt the blunt head of Chris’ cock at his entrance. He took a wavering breath in, out, and Chris was sliding in.
Fuck, it had been a while.
Chris curled an arm around his stomach, urging him up. Leon bent back against him, hand braced on the wall as he spread his legs as much as he could confined in his jeans. He rocked onto his toes as Chris fucked into him, unable to stop the sounds falling from his lips with every thrust.
Chris nuzzled into his neck, his smell of cigarettes and cologne sitting thick at the back of Leon's throat. He turned toward him, left hand wrapping around his neck and holding him close. Chris moved his hand to lay square on Leon's chest.
He slid his other to wrap around his cock, pulling as his hips moved back, leaving Leon feeling torn in two. Leon grit his teeth, trying in vain to hold back from whining.
“Are you close?” Chris asked. He was, judging by his quickening pace, his fingers gripping Leon tighter.
Leon moved against him, back and forth, Chris’ pleasure and his own becoming one. “No. ‘m too drunk,” he realized, dropping his hand from the wall to wrap with Chris’ around his cock. “Feels so good. Just can't -”
“You mind if I do?” he asked on a particularly shallow and hard thrust. His voice was pitched, tense.
Leon laughed. It made his head feel loose, detached. “You fucking better.”
Chris kissed the side of his head, moving to mouth along the back of his neck. Leon dropped his hand to Chris’ arm, using it for leverage to push back against him. He lost his balance when Chris slid his hand down and caught himself against the wall.
He didn't go far, landing in Chris’ hand as he moved it across his belly. His other did more to hold his hips in place than jerk him off anymore, but Leon was beyond complaining with the constant pressure against his prostate. Fuck, Chris was better at this every fucking time.
The kisses on his neck morphed to long drags of Chris’ open mouth, hot puffs of breath making each moan tangible. Leon pushed his hips back, clenching around Chris tight as he felt him tense at his back.
Chris grabbed Leon's hips, pulling him almost off his feet as he came. Leon shook like he'd come too, arms weak against the wall. His head fell forward and Chris pushed into him again, fingers bruising his hips, lips tracing a lazy path over his neck and back.
He was slow to let go, getting Leon right on his feet but running his hands over his back, his ass and hips. He pulled out with a gentle swear, soothing fingers running over Leon's swollen hole in a way that almost had his body rethinking orgasm. He knew it wouldn't happen, but leaned into the tease anyway.
“Jesus, Leon.”
He wouldn't stop on his own so Leon turned, leaning his back on the wall. Chris didn't step back, stayed hovering over Leon, out of breath and beautifully flushed.
“Jesus, Chris,” Leon mocked. It came out without vitriol as his eyes slipped down Chris' body, his rucked shirt and open jeans. The slow drag of the condom as Chris pulled it off to tie and toss in the john. “Fuck.”
He had to look away, using his own jeans as distraction. He saw Chris pulling his own up through his peripheral but he let his vision go soft. Easy when he was so far into the bottle.
He pulled his own shirt down, tried to pull it low enough it hid how hard he still was. It didn't work. At least the bar outside was dark, the streets back to the hotel darker.
He grabbed his jacket and successfully didn't pull a face as he worked his probably broken arm in.
Chris watched him, arms crossed. “What?” Leon asked.
“How much weight have you lost?”
“I don't know.” Leon zipped his jacket and took his time straightening the bottom. He was a much better liar, but only with his eyes somewhere else. He shook his bangs out, double protection.
He knew exactly how much weight he'd lost. How many mornings he'd woken up more drunk than hungover, blowing off the gym. Even when he forced himself there in the midnight hours, best to avoid people, he couldn't lift the weights he could even a couple months ago.
How midnight workouts became an excuse to not sleep. How if he didn't drink himself empty, he was too full of everything else, pain and hate and loss and loneliness and the sick hope this was finally the night he wouldn't wake up from -
Chris hooked a finger under his chin and turned his face up. Leon kept his eyes to the side until Chris pushed his hair back, patience on full display until Leon sighed. “What, Redfield?”
Chris brushed a thumb over the scar on his cheek. He leaned in slow, giving Leon plenty of time to move away, as if he wanted to. He kissed him, slow, open mouthed.
“Come back with me,” he said against Leon's lips.
Leon blinked. “Where?”
Chris grinned in that obnoxious crooked way that meant he was holding back from rolling his eyes. “My hotel's a couple blocks away.”
Leon did move away then. Chris let him, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
They didn't … they had boundaries. Rules.
But that wasn't quite true. They'd never discussed anything. They didn't have anything except Chris standing there with his heart on a platter.
And Leon holding the proverbial knife.
His heart beat in his ears. He felt every inch of his body, the pain - good and bad. The overhead lights flickered, casting Chris in deep shadows where it didn't highlight his edges. Leon knew he looked the same.
Chris didn't move. He'd played his hand and it was up to Leon to double down or fold.
His stomach was in his throat as he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. Outside, the band played on, life kept living. Leon pushed off the wall, found his voice was steady as he repeated, louder, “Okay.”