Archive of Our Own

One more drink. One more hotel. One more conference. 

Alone at the bar, something Leon was no stranger to. The stool uncomfortable, the counter wet, the lights dimmed. Walls crammed with picture frames, with an old deer mount above the bar. 

A generous glass of whiskey before him, no extravagant cocktail with loud furnishings. Hard liquor. It did the job. What was worse, a bioterrorism attack or some stupid conference? Represent the DSO they said, it’ll be an honour. Honour his ass. Right then he could have been at home in his bare apartment, sprawled across his couch, tv remote in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. Mindless to the horrors around him.

Of course there was always his hotel room. Pristine. Bed corners folded in an almost clinical fashion with a bright runner across the foot, and of course complimentary champagne. And instead Leon found himself nursing something stronger. Champagne never was his thing. 

In truth hotels felt more like home than his own apartment. That was the worrying part. Never able to just relax, that restless feeling of being shipped here, there and everywhere. It never left. And it was why Leon found himself at the bar. The safe familiar bar which always had booze on hand. The silver lining of wherever the hell he ended up. In one corner appeared to be a man and an escort, and in the other, a man slumped over a table. Leon decided the counter was just fine for him. 

Too many goddamn years in a goddamn job. It was what he thought of as he raised the glass to his lips. The second of the night. Not intending to get drunk, with age came hangovers after all. Bad ones. Threatening to last two days at times. Reminiscent of when he could bounce back just as hard in the morning. No, he had to be up early, had stuff to do. Two drinks then bed. Reasonable. 

That taste, the slight burn to his throat, warming him from the inside out. The comfort which rushed to his ears. Oh it was good. Everything about it beautiful, the taste and smell alike. Leon savoured it. 

At least it was quiet, that much was nice. Nothing like the bars he frequented. Sometimes he’d break up fights, other times he let nature take it’s course. Either way it never did much. 

Quiet was a positive change. Relaxing. Completely in his element. Almost enough to forget what a drag the following day would be. Counter terrorism was it? Too much bullshit that’s what it was anyway. These things never worked, never provided anything new, and almost exclusively ran by people with no firsthand experience. It sucked. 

Yet there he was, a dog obeying his masters. It was only one day of fake smiles and mind numbing social etiquette. Leon had survived worse. 

The dull thud of the glass against wood. A strong oak fixture with shelves of obnoxiously coloured bottles behind. And Leon had chosen whiskey on the rocks, not exactly adventurous. 

One hand ran through his hair, ensuring to promptly sort it afterwards. God what a fucking life he had lead. Left alone with his thoughts for too long and they all caught up. Leon took another pitiful swig. 

“I’ll take a scotch,” A strong voice cut through the ambience. “Neat.” 

Upon that the bartender got to work, bottle already secured and searching for a glass and jigger. 

Not often did Leon take notice of civilians. In fact he made a conscious effort not to. Someone wanted a drink? Big deal. Only the civilian in question grabbed his attention. 

It took less than a glance to realise why. Redfield. Chris Redfield. Right there at the other end of the counter. Fuck. Really Leon should have expected him of all people at such a conference. Either Chris or his sister - perhaps even both. But not at the bar, not at the hotel. 

Already two drinks deep and Leon could feel the bad idea gnawing at his bones. Anything but the professional environment he had prepared for. Right then he should have sank into the background. If he remained still, head down, then camouflage was feasible. 

Only Leon chose the difficult option. 

“Put it on my card.” He called across, more than startling the bartender. Still tasting the words as his gaze drifted to Chris. 

Immediately Chris’ ears pricked, drawn towards the noise. That line of sight struck Leon hard. Their eyes locked. 

“Leon?” As if it was alien for him to be seen with booze in hand. 

“Redfield.” Maintaining that nonchalant tone as Chris strode to him. 

There was all but a few seconds before the man was right there, Leon’s personal space thoroughly invaded by a mistake waiting to happen. 

“DSO paying for my drinks now?” An amicable joke. It would have been more appreciated if the elbow Chris propped himself on didn’t serve such a distraction. 

“Call it a peace offering.” Still doing a good job of stamping out any insecurity to his voice. Bottle it up, send it on it’s way. What he was trained to do.

“Last I checked we were on the same side.”

All the while Leon made the conscious effort to stare at the glass before him, half empty and calling out with a siren’s song. Quite unprepared for the close proximity of conversation. All one act of self deprecating torment he had to deal with. 

“How you doing anyway?” Chris carried on. “Long time no see.” Yeah. There had been a reason for that. A reason Leon had just balled up and thrown in the trash.

“Y’know, this and that,” protecting a nation, a government pet. The usual miserable captivity. “What about you?” Still avoiding the temptation of his drink. 

“Oh y’know, this and that.” Parroted back perfectly. Bastard. 

Much to Leon’s defeat that answer pulled a smile from him. “Saw you left the BSAA.” Flat out admitting to what he had heard through the grapevine. No subtlety about it. 

And just then the second drink slid down to meet them. Thank Christ. Only then did Chris sit. Comically large and hunched on a tiny seat. Leon supposed he looked no better himself. 

“Left ages ago,” Straight and to the point. “Got a squad now.” All of which Leon knew already. Captain Redfield, it always did have a ring to it.

“Sounds like you’re doing alright for yourself.”

“Different day same bullshit.” Said like an exhausted man. It was a sentiment Leon sympathised with greatly. 

“I’ll drink to that.” Finally that much appreciated glass at his fingertips. It had their whiskeys raised in unison. A friendly tilt towards the other then going for it.

Silence settled, and it was no where near as welcomed as before. It rang loud in Leon’s ears. Say something. Anything. Fuck what had he done? Whiskey then bed, that had been the plan. A reliable plan. An honest plan. And there he was entertaining Chris. 

“You seem well.” It was the other man’s words to grace the space between them. 

“Thanks,” And only then did Leon really look. That had been the first mistake. Chris wore the marks of time, a life lived. Crows feet framed his eyes, brow hardened, a great sorrow to him. One too many marks on his soul. But still Chris. “You look… good.” Because what else was there to say? It was the same man he thought had looked equally as handsome ten years prior. And that certainly wasn’t subject to change. 

To that Chris huffed, visibly amused. “You’re a horrible liar y’know.” 

Was he? For a second Leon’s heart faltered. A stopped clock within his ribs. An abrupt surge of adrenaline. 

“I’m old. We both are.” Chris so seamlessly went on to say.

Relief. Of course that was what was meant. Of course. “Speak for yourself, feel as good as I did twenty years ago.” An attempt to lighten the mood. 

“That why the DSO shipped you off here instead of the field?”

“Classified information.” Playing into Chris’ game. 

“Just like everything else with your organisation.” A friendly jab. 

“Can’t say spilling state secrets is a hobby of mine.” But spilling his blood was there’s. 

Chris left it at that, prodding no further. “What do you think of tomorrow?” 

“Not exactly the vacation I wanted,” Unable to stifle the light chuckle to follow. A stolen glance hidden by bangs. “You?” 

“Least I’m paid for it.” 

“Staying at the hotel?” Nodding to the general direction of the lobby. A more than obvious question but Leon had to ask. 

“Complimentary champagne and all.” That Redfield charm shone bright. Dangerous and intoxicating. 

“And here I thought I was special.” Again staring to his almost empty glass. 

They drank some more, tasting far better than before. 

“Think they got a box behind the desk?” Chris teased some more. 

With the glass still to his lips Leon scoffed. “Think they get a lot of requests?” 

And there it was, that profound sense of domesticity. An easy back and forth they always found themselves in.

It triggered a war within Leon, one he always found himself fighting. A losing battle which was determined to take him. The feelings he had tried hard to suppress. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. An attraction immune to the erosion of time. Because that was the issue with Chris wasn’t it? Alarmingly handsome with a heart to match. There was only so long Leon could spend with the man. Why their relationship remained strictly work. 

Never had Leon acted on anything. Certainly not with anyone close anyway. Faceless hookups, out of town flings. Nothing permanent. Nothing tangible. And then there was Chris. Unobtainable and dangled before Leon’s very face. A reminder of what he could never have. Never want. Any inkling of normality had been lost in Raccoon City, along with everything else.

The self destructive flame never went out. Truly evident as he had called Chris over, paid for his drink. A never ending cycle of Leon’s making. It tormented him. 

“Leon…” Fingers snapped in his peripheral. “Leon you there?”

“Hm? Yeah,” Sounding equally as absent. “How’s Claire these days?” Moving on. Moving on so fucking fast. 

“Yeah she’s good, abroad at the moment. Can’t say much.” 

“Shame, she always loved a conference.” 

Chris’ laugh. A beautiful noise. Fluttering straight through Leon’s being. “You’re right about that, probably kicking herself that she can’t be there tomorrow.” 

“She’ll be jealous alright.” Knocking back the slither of booze. 

And instantly Chris caught on. 

“Another?” 

Fuck. Two drinks already. Bed. He was meant to go to bed. Awake bright and early for tomorrow. 

“Yeah alright.” Was what Leon found himself saying instead. 

Chris’ body moved with the turn of his head, addressing the bartender who appeared to be killing time. “Hey! Same again.” Finger pointing between both him and Leon. Only difference was this time he slid his own card towards the man. 

“Two?” Leon couldn’t help but question. 

“Think I’ve got some catching up to do.” Still firmly on his first drink. 

Oh Leon was fucked. 

The yellow glow of street lamps through the window, along with the solace of night. Both men sat at the counter, far more than a couple drinks deep. Existing as if that time in the safety of the bar was endless.

But that wasn’t the case was it? 

“Bar’s closing!” Shouted across to them as the man pressed buttons on the register. Clearly waiting to go home.

Both Leon and Chris cast each other a glance, an action preformed in perfect symmetry. 

“Well there goes my early night.” Leon said as he checked his watch. Midnight. Oh how wonderful. 

“What time you waking up?” 

“Hopefully before the conference.” Leon said as he got up, legs aching from being seated too long, naturally stretching to help the rest of his muscles. Soon enough Chris was doing the same. 

“Makes two of us.” The other man replied. 

They thanked and tipped the bartender, and the room only spun slightly with each step. A small win if anything. The overhead light of the lobby a harsh contrast, Leon found his eyes squinting as he walked back into the world. 

Desolate. Not a soul to be seen. Impossible not to feel that fight or flight fester inside him. Silence the small voice telling him something was wrong. It was just a hotel. There was no imminent threat. 

“You going to bed?” Chris so casually asked, it dragged Leon back to reality. 

“Uh yeah, probably. Why?” Not allowing himself to read into any further implication. 

“Wondered if you wanted another,” A coarseness to the man’s tone. Something Leon chose to ignore. “Try out that premium champagne.” It was most likely store bought. 

Again Leon found himself at a crossroads. A few drinks, yeah okay he had managed that successfully. A hotel room on the other hand? Secluded. Already relatively drunk. Pretending to weigh his options. 

“You just about read my mind.” Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him? 

The hangover had better be worth it. 

Together they approached the elevator. A spacious box, carpeted with a mirror. Leon’s eyes wandered to their reflection then back again. Noting the solid line of Chris’ shoulders beneath his jacket. Nope. No, no, no. He couldn’t allow that. 

The numbers on the screen went up, rolling fluidly into the next one. 

“What room?” Leon realised he hadn’t asked. 

“Eight zero four.” Replied without checking his card. A brave man relying on recollection alone. 

“Three one two.” Gesturing to himself as he spoke. It was something like that anyway.

“Think we’d have known the other was here if it wasn’t for the bar?”  

“If it wasn’t for the bar I’d be asleep right now.” Not intending for how it came across. Going for that drink had been the best decision Leon made.

“Still can y’know,” Chris looked straight ahead, hands stuffed in pockets. “Don’t let me keep you.” 

“And turn down hotel champagne with Captain Redfield? You gotta be kidding me.” 

Ding. The doors rattled open. A clear eight hundred written on the wall opposite. 

They walked with stealth. Maybe not the intended use for their training but it was unknowingly appreciated by guests. 

And within seconds there they were. A huge secure door with eight zero four across it. Perhaps it would have been more daunting if Chris’ form didn’t practically fill the frame with ease.

There was little hesitation as Chris brought his keycard to the handle, a small light flashed green, then lo and behold, the door actually cooperated. At least no one had to crack out a lock pick. 

Leon slinked in behind while the light blinked to life. The room itself was a parody of his own, as if someone had tried to recreate it from memory. Though the fundamentals remained the same. 

“Make yourself at home.” Chris joked as he walked to the far from chilled bottle, throwing his jacket over a chair. 

“Feeling very wine and dined.” Why the hell did he say that? Hating himself all the more as he moved to sit on the foot of the bed. 

Apparently Chris was a gentleman. Opting for glasses rather than necking it - something they’d both have done in their youth. The cork popped into his hand. Responsible. Not too much mess either, and poured elegantly. Perhaps in another life Chris had been a bartender. 

However it was the inevitable brush of fingers which got Leon. Accepting the drink, because why wouldn’t he? Both leant forwards to bridge the gap. Leathered fingertips swallowed his, and then they were gone. The only thing to show for what had happened was the dainty glass Leon held. Chris stood ass against the desk and Leon still sat on the bed, legs spread in a casual pose, staring at the drink like it might kill him.  

“Thanks.” Was all Leon could say. 

They sipped, both men averted their gaze. The booze itself was fine. Nothing special. Leon had definitely had worse.

“Verdict?” Chris asked. 

“Like being at the Hilton.”

And again Chris’ laugh enveloped him like a blanket, noting the bashful shake of the man’s head as well. Goddamn it. 

Suddenly the realisation of where he was came crashing down. A sobering thought. Chris’ hotel room. Alone with the guy. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And there Leon was sat on his bed. How many times had he thought of a similar situation? Too many than he’d cared to admit, that was how many. Only difference was the seclusion of his own mind and a hand down his pants. Alcohol didn’t help either, that was for sure. 

“So tomorrow…” Chris again struck up conversation. “Gonna stick around long afterwards?” 

“Probably not, hate hotels,” Honest. “You?”

“Gonna stay another night I think, don’t like travelling on the same day, reminds me too much of work.” 

“Think they’ll know we’ve been drinking?” Leon sipped some more, unable to taste any tangible alcohol. 

“Once we wind up smelling like a distillery, they’ll have a hunch.” The man replied. 

“Good thing you brush up sharp.” Addicted to the audacious rush of idiocy. 

Chris had no reaction however, moving to the window instead. Drink set aside in favour of cigarettes, the packet drowned in his palm. 

Outside lay the bitter reminder of normality, hundreds of thousands of normal people, living normal lives, with normal worries and everything which came with that. The mundanity neither man was granted. An unspoken resentment for a boring monochromatic life. 

The window slid with ease. 

“Smoking as well as booze? The Redfield combination.” Leon raised his voice, finding himself in competition with the vibrant nightlife. 

“Booze and cigarettes…” Chris lamented as his thumb so effortlessly flicked open the pack. “I’ll take that over BOWs any day,” Spoken around the cigarette cradled between lips. Though before lighting he turned to Leon. “Want one? Dingo red.” The packet offered. 

To which Leon just waved it off. “They’ll kill you y’know.” 

“I’ll take my chances.” Lighting it. Hopefully the smoke alarm wasn’t a sensitive one. 

Leon watched that first drag, the embers glowing with an assertive inhale, to fingers plucking it free, aiding a steady stream of smoke to tumble out into the world. Flowing from both mouth and nostrils, rolling through the air.

“Thought you quit?” His own curiosity getting the better. 

A hum rumbled from Chris’ chest in preemptive acknowledgement, the cigarette the clear priority. “Did… a while ago,” Rotating his hand as if inspecting the object. “Started again. Stress.” 

“Job never gets any easier.” Melancholy finding its way back to the conversation. It always did.

“Can sure say that again,” A blunt laugh before going back to his smoke. Then his gaze changed, cast Leon’s way. Obvious he had been staring. There was no denying. Though Chris said nothing about it. “C’mere.” Beckoning Leon over with a nod of his head. 

Liquid strength was what he needed. Leon downed the remainder of his drink, the entirety of it straight down his gullet. Might as well. 

Glass placed on the ground by the bed, kept out of the way. No amount of drunken stumbling could endanger it. 

Cold, the first thing noticed. Sharp night air blowing in.

Together they looked out. It was either that or Chris, and Leon couldn’t get away with staring. Instead hyperaware of the man, tracked through the tail of Leon’s eye. Thought screaming at the proximity. 

So there was the city. Headlights blurred in the streets beneath. Inaudible shouting and noise. Only a matter of time before police sirens disturbed the muddled harmony. 

“Ever think about them?” Chris’ words accompanied the view. “Innocent people.” 

“All the goddamn time.” Admitting it truthfully. 

“It’s for them we do it. Gotta remember that.” A hint of misery to his tone. One Leon knew all too well. 

“What would you do,” Leon couldn’t help but ask. “If you were normal?” Vision on anything but Chris. 

“Probably have some suburban picket fence fantasy by now.” Punctuated with an amused huff.

“Have a couple of Redfield junior’s running around?” Impossible to resist the tease, no matter how deep it stung. 

“Yeah,” Said so flippantly. “Something like that.” 

Of course. Of course he would. He was Chris goddamn Redfield after all. Only natural for him to have a wife and kids, hell probably even a dog. A model nuclear family. Barbecue’s in the summer, hot chocolate and matching pyjamas in winter. 

“Would you want a couple of little Leon’s?” Chris snapped him from that subdued trance. 

And suddenly Leon didn’t have enough time to think. “Don’t know, maybe.” Because it had been a lifetime since he had thought of any of that. Perhaps once upon a time it was what he had wanted. A fresh faced rookie with stars in his eyes. 

“Think you’d be good with kids.” Stated so naturally. 

“Well, no point wondering about what if’s.” An unmistakeable sorrow to everything. Mourning something never had. 

Apparently it was picked up on. “We’re doing the right thing y’know, there would be no this,” Gesturing openly to the buildings and people alike. “Without what we do.”

But it wasn’t that was it? It wasn’t the hypothetical life with a hypothetical family. No. Leon had nothing. Government property, body and soul. Robbed of his youth and robbed of his future. Realistically it would be a miracle if retirement was on the cards. If he made it that far. 

“I get it Leon, I do.” That presumptive reassurance. 

Ash flicked from the cigarette, tumbling down, down and down, before it met an abrupt death. The butt stubbed out against the wall of the building. Rest in peace. 

As Chris closed the window Leon found himself looking to that strong profile. Each feature complimentary to the rest. Time had been kind to him, no matter what he said. Everything from the straight bridge of his nose to the circles beneath his eyes. 

“But we need to keep going.” Chris went on to say. Perhaps the ramblings of a drunk man. 

And it was what Leon would have chalked it up to. Assume Chris thought it was what he needed to hear. On the verge of giving him some intoxicated speech on morality and the greater good of it all. Eradicate the impending existentialism. A bonding experience.

Only that did not happen. 

It was then he felt lips. The man having leant in, taking it no further than that. Just mouths pressed against each other as Leon’s mind vacated his body. What the hell was happening? One second Chris was consoling him, and the next? He was being kissed? 

Leon stood rooted to the spot, an outsider to his own experience. Meanwhile Chris pressed further, and Leon found himself… kissing back? Rough lips against his own. It was a bad idea. Was it even happening? Limbs trembling as adrenaline coursed through him. 

And sense struck Leon hard. Bludgeoning him across the head with reality. Leon pulled back. They couldn’t do that. Chris was drunk. Leon was drunk. It would be a regret. One permanent regret which would haunt him until the end of days. Their jobs. Their situation. The consequences. 

And it was those brown eyes which peered back seeking answers. The intricate study of Leon’s face with the hopeless plea for more.  

“Chris…” Whispered. Unsure of what else to say. Stop? We can’t do this? It’s a bad idea? Each of those phrases died, never to see that intimate space between them. 

Despite everything Leon stayed put, not having quite realised his hand had fallen to the man’s waist. Neither disrupting the equilibrium of the room. 

Was it real? The million dollar question. Leon could hardly believe it, as if a miracle had been preformed right before his very eyes. Only it wasn’t a dream. Living, breathing Chris peered back. 

Wordlessly Leon went in, a motion which could only be described as hesitant. Slow and janky. But Chris allowed it, awaiting Leon to make the move. 

And there it was again. Safety. Melting into Chris’s form as they sank together. Pliant lips danced upon contact. The occasional careless clack of teeth. All apprehension gone. No thoughts of the future or past, just there in the present together. 

Chris tugged him in tighter, bodies as close as they could be. Something which coaxed out a moan. Leon would have been mortified if he had time, only there was none. The noise only encouraged Chris further, behaving like a man starved. Leon was no better. 

Compact. It was all Leon could think as he allowed himself permission to feel. The solid fixture of Chris right there kissing him. Ignoring the prominent taste of tobacco. But the man’s body beneath his fingers, the sheer strength of him apparent. Though fighting was the furthest thing from Leon’s mind. Falling victim to the need to scold himself for such thoughts before allowing that inhibition to fade to nothing. 

By no means was Chris shy either, mapping Leon as best he could. Full advantage taken from where Leon’s shirt had ridden up, that small exposed slither of skin a gold mine. Chris thumbed it, caressing over and over until that greedy hand needed more, groping as best he could, blocked by the security of a belt. 

As things picked up Leon’s cock became prominent. An issue which couldn’t be overlooked. Having grown hard from the moment Chris’ lips were on his. It wasn’t the frenzied arousal of his youth, a desperate need to get off. Instead a knot twisted in his stomach. Winding tighter and tighter until he could take no more. Though gentler. Kinder. No frantic rush, though the desire more than present. And his cock wanted out. 

Suddenly Leon stumbled backwards onto the bed, Chris shepherding him so. All while maintaining contact. Feet tripped here and there but managed nonetheless. No sprained ankles. 

Chris settled between Leon’s legs, allowing Leon time to appreciate the newfound perspective of the man. All the while Chris gazed down, apparently also taking in the sight. Chests heaving as they caught themselves, Chris’ eyes flicking over Leon in his entirety. No way of obscuring his erection. But sight went both ways. If Chris judged him for the obvious tightening of fabric the man would have been a hypocrite. 

From his current angle Chris was intimidating, making Leon feel as if he wasn’t a man equally capable.  

Nothing had to be said, just the pair of them looking. Not wanting to disrupt the delicacy of everything. Like if words passed it would shatter whatever they possessed, tear them from that room and back to reality. Leon’s head still processed the kiss. But it was in some unspoken synchronicity it happened. Impossible to tell who had done what first, but in a whirl of limbs both men scrambled to remove their shirts. 

Admittedly Chris had an easier time undressing, tossing his own to the floor then taking no time to help Leon who lay awkwardly levered on elbows. But eventually it too was tossed to the side, immediately forgotten. 

Showers, changing rooms, dorms. Leon had seen it all before, human bodies. Nothing more, nothing less. But right there Chris’ bare torso was close enough to touch. A solid happy trail connected his chest to pelvis. Helplessly Leon followed it down, noting how it disappeared into the man’s belt. Perhaps Chris was not as tight as the younger men on his squad or as he had once been. But Leon enjoyed it all the same, liberated from that reticent nature as he allowed himself that. He could look without fear. 

“Not naturally smooth?” Chris playfully remarked, ogling Leon’s own body hair. 

“You’re one to talk.”  

“Don’t see you complaining.” Voice dipping into something more. The knot in Leon’s stomach could only tighten upon that. 

“Never said I was.” Doing everything to maintain that artificial composure. 

“Oh yeah?” Chris teased. As he spoke a finger traced down Leon’s hip bone, sliding over the curve until it could go no further. Impossible not to squirm, cock shouting at him from his pants. But Chris carried on, running it along Leon’s waistline, dipping into the valley of his Adonis belt as he did so. 

With his all Leon held himself together, grasp slipping. Nothing beyond the initial twist of his pelvis. If Chris wanted the satisfaction of his actions he’d have to do more than that. 

“Thought about this a lot, y’know.” Admitted with an easeful tone, hardly able to believe it was Chris. Hardly able to fathom what was said. 

“Yeah?” A small shake to his voice with the reply. 

“Yeah,” So confidently confirmed, that finger hooked beneath Leon’s jeans. “Know how good you look in a suit?” And all Leon could do was wait for the man to elaborate. “Don’t know how I’ll get through tomorrow, was all I could think when I saw you earlier.” 

“And here I was thinking you brush up sharp.” Deflecting the compliment as best he could. Because what else could Leon do?

“Think you’d look better out of these.” And that tentative finger traced over the outline of Leon’s cock. 

No audible words, just a strangled whine and rutting into the touch. It was what Leon had been reduced to. Pathetic in the speed at which it happened, though allowing himself to feel. Not remembering the last time he had anything other than his own fist. 

Those fingers gripped it as best they could through fabric, applying much needed pressure either side. The warmth of the man’s hand bled through those layers, though Leon could only imagine how skin to skin would feel. It was going that way after all wasn’t it?

“What do you think?” Chris’ question rhetorical. An obvious cue for Leon’s cooperation. Which he did. Ass pushed up off the bed, while Chris made short work of his belt. No miscommunication about what either wanted. 

Just like that Leon was naked. Chris having yanked everything off in one eager swoop. It joined the rest of the discarded clothes in their pile. 

There was a sort of thrill in Chris observing him like that, Leon could not lie. Completely naked and hard, nothing to hide. Cock twitching in the open air while Chris remained hypnotised by it all. 

“One second.” Chris then announced, reaching over the side of the bed less than elegantly. Strain to his voice. 

From where Leon was he could see nothing, reliant on his ears and that drunken common sense. Meanwhile the rustling grew louder. But Leon had a hunch. 

When Chris returned to his original position he had something. One condom packet and a small bottle of lube dropped on the bed, like a dog proudly showing off its bone. 

Yeah alright it was happening. Really happening. Leon scooted further up until greeted by the headboard. More space for Chris. 

“So you were planning to get lucky, huh?” A friendly enough quip. Though who had Chris planned to sleep with? Did he sleep with everyone? Was Leon to be another notch on the bedpost?  

“If you can call it that,” Again Chris was at home between Leon’s thighs. “Been there for months.” 

Leon shouldn’t have been relieved, more than aware Chris had the right to fuck who he wanted. After all, what they were doing right then didn’t have to mean anything… did it? Could be one fleeting hookup no strings attached. Not the epiphany Leon wanted while naked. 

Those concerns however were quick to die once Chris hand was laid on him, surprisingly gentle for a man of his size. Fingers enclosed around the base of Leon’s cock. Stagnant. 

Though the adrenaline returned, Leon’s blown pupils looked towards the action. Chris’ hand wrapped around his shaft. Wasn’t long before his body began to tremble in anticipation. 

“Shhh,” Cooed so carefully to Leon. “I know,” A squeeze. “I know.” 

It had Leon pliant and malleable in those hands. Brain faltering as instinct took over. 

Patiently awaiting Chris’ affection, to acquaint himself with the man’s touch. It was expected. Only Chris wasn’t that predictable. Instead lowering himself, creeping in, hot breath against his tip. All the while his eyes trained on Leon, clearly revelling in the reaction. Gaze locked as it happened. And Leon uselessly allowed it. 

Licked. Base to tip. Tongue flat and curled around his shaft. Fuck it had been too long. Too fucking long. Leon found himself biting his lip, catching the small moan which had climbed to his throat. Instead he breathed through his nose. One long exhale. 

Apparently that was what Chris needed, somehow more attentive a second time. Instead Leon was a victim to his own hedonism, hips searching for more. He felt it when Chris smiled against him. 

“Be a good boy Leon.” Each word hit his cock. It twitched to life all the while Chris had a front row view. No hiding the effect those words had.

“Think I’m a bit old to be called-” Cut off by his own whine as Chris did it again. The man’s tongue felt good, following a glazed trail of precum. 

“Think you like it.” So freely taunted back. And yeah alright, maybe Leon did enjoy it. So what? Not that he planned on giving a confession. 

Once again Chris caught him by surprise, grabbing lube before getting to work. Using teeth to open the cap. It shouldn’t have been so hot. 

Shamelessly Chris squirted some onto his fingers. A generous coating to say the least. They shone in the light, wet and ready. “Gonna be a good boy?” 

Shit. Leon just nodded, unable to tear his eyes from those fingers. Never had he wanted something more, like his brain had gone dumb at the sight alone. 

“Yeah?” Chris carried on. “You want it?” Hand brought down as he spoke, prodding Leon’s hole. 

The sensation fluttered its way to his stomach. Tugging harder on that knot. “Fuck.” Half whimpered. 

“Gotta give me a yes.” Sounding smug as ever. That bastard. 

“Yes,” Replied through gritted teeth. “Goddamn it Redfield.” A feeble attempt to deflect the vulnerability of it all. Deep breaths as his head met the pillow, preparing himself. 

“Good boy.” A stage whisper of sorts. 

But Leon was unable to conjure a response, preoccupied by the pad of Chris’ finger circling him, easing Leon into what was to come. 

Really it was nothing, barely even touched, but Leon could feel himself come alive. Cock drooling while it happened. Allowing himself the experience, the natural state of his body in that moment. The arousal like a bath, pleasantly submerged. 

And then Chris pushed in. 

It was the first time Leon moaned. Properly moaned. The sound punched from his chest, no time to stifle. Loud and defining. Just the tip, only the tip. Hadn’t even reached anywhere important but it was the stretch, that dull ache. Muscles adjusting themselves. It had been awhile.

The lube helped, but Chris’ fingers were thick, pushing the strange sensation further inside. Leon did his best to relax, make both their jobs easier. All the while knowing it was Chris who penetrated him. 

With little thinking Leon threw an arm over his face, nose to the crook of his elbow. It wasn’t that he couldn’t look, but everything was alien. Foreign concepts hitting him at once. Sure yeah he had sex, more so when he was younger, but there was no connection regardless. Don’t get attached and no one gets hurt. Simple. And there was Chris Redfield with a finger in his ass. Fantastic. Leon’s heart swelled at the care and precision the man took, the tender effort he poured into the action. Oh he was fucked. 

Eventually Chris got down to the knuckle, Leon’s breathing had only grown heavier in that time. Stomach jumping, toes curled, and most of all wanting. 

“You good?” Chris asked. 

Again Leon just nodded. Words difficult in contrast to overwhelming emotion. Attempting to navigate himself without a map. 

“Y’know, would be useful if I could see your face.” So casually said for what they were doing. 

In all honesty Leon had barely registered his own arm. But he peeled it off, blinking away the light. 

“Better don’t you think?” Fuck why was his voice so soothing? Leon hadn’t even looked yet, gaze cast to the ceiling. 

He had faced far more formidable things in his life, no doubt about that. Really Chris was nothing. But it wasn’t Chris, it was himself. All the things Leon had denied over the years suddenly right there, tangible and in the flesh. 

When he mustered the courage Leon lifted his head. “You gonna move?” 

Something Chris didn’t need to be asked twice. Finger coaxed out ever so slightly, only to slip right back in. And fuck, even if just a finger he felt it. Difficult to gauge just how far inside the man was. All Leon understood was he wanted more. 

That ache loosened, and in turn Leon found himself seeking it out. Greedily angling his hips, hoping for Chris to find that spot. Once more teeth greeted his lip, keeping a cap on things as best he could. 

The mattress suddenly shifted with weight, and he knew. Chris on his stomach, finger still moving, about to take Leon’s cock in his mouth. 

When it first happened he could hardly believe it. Barely anything, Chris suckled the tip. And yet there Leon was abandoned by any and all coherence. Head suddenly stuffed with wool. Treated with fragility. 

At some point Leon’s eyes had flickered closed, getting familiarised with Chris’ tongue once again. But he knew it, knew Chris was watching. Could feel the man’s stare burn against him. So Leon once again forbid himself from looking down, if he did that it was over. Apply far more meaning to the interaction, he couldn’t do that to himself. Instead he allowed the pleasant flood of sensation, Chris’ mouth moved, taking more, more and more. The wet heat, the unhurried and leisurely pace, the intent. 

Not to forget the finger. After Chris generously took as much as he could, that finger got back to work. Leon having unwound enough for it to be an easy thorough exploration. All the while Chris still suckled. That knot twisting and writhing, pressure intensifying. 

And then a second one. Entered along side the first. A second burly finger and Leon once more felt that accommodating stretch, though it was over quick enough. Leon there mewling, overrun by nothing but hedonic waves of passion. Everything too much yet not enough. 

That sensation only brightened once it was found, fingertips upon his prostate. Rubbing over and over. 

“Fuck,” Leon cried out, threatening to curl in on himself. “Chris, fuck.” Already panting. 

Unfortunately the man knew exactly what he was doing. He picked up. Licking, sucking, mouthing. Leon’s poor cock didn’t stand a chance. Bullied from all angles. And worst of all it could be heard, the lewd noises of it all. Inviting him to look, just a glance. Luring Leon in with the provided comfort. 

After all there was only so much he could run from. Drawing in a breath he did it, pushing past the coaxing fog in his brain. Beautiful. It was the only way the sight could be described. Chris doubled down, wanting to make things good. Deriving nothing from the interaction himself. A sheer act of selflessness. 

Leon felt the tremor in his limbs. A tightening in his groin. Leaking relentlessly onto the man’s tongue. 

“Chris please-” Spoken like a man broken. “Please- I…”

Just like that Chris popped off. Fingers stilled, a sheen of spit over his chin, gracelessly wiped on the back of his free hand. 

It took a few seconds for Leon to stabilise himself, get dragged away from that edge. 

“Gonna add another, okay?” Chris eventually asked. 

“Yeah,” Still collecting the fragmented shards of his sanity. “Yeah, alright.” 

The third and final finger. Leon’s cock protested the lack of stimulation, but it was for the best. He wanted to last.  

“That’s it,” That reassurance to the man’s voice. “That’s good.” Proceeding with caution. 

More than noticed as the final addition joined the rest. Well and truly stuffed. It felt good if anything, that tight ring of muscle already worked. All Leon could do was groan, an embarrassing noise for a grown man but there he was. 

“Fuck,” A shaky exhale accompanied Chris’ admiration. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

“Oh yeah?” Rather difficult to flirt when in such a compromised position. 

“Don’t know how I keep my hands off you half the time.” Another casual confession which choked Leon’s heart.

“Think about this-” Leon replied as those fingers moved once again. It had Leon gripping the sheets as he thought of his sentence. “Think about this a lot?” Coming across anything but how it was suppose to. Difficult to mask that wrecked exterior. The precise massage of his prostate. Again another whine. 

“You’ve no idea,” The man practically purred. “Can’t help but to look, to wonder…” 

There was no reply to be given, Leon was gone. 

“Gonna make things right.” Chris muttered as he came to a stop. All Leon could note was the release of pressure when the man finally pulled out. 

Chris stared down, a private grin across his face. Something Leon surely wasn’t meant to see.

“What?” Half groaned. 

“Nothing,” Quickly correcting himself. “Wanna see something?” Mischief replaced the intimacy of that smile. Leon kicked himself for missing it. 

It didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, Chris’ thumbs hooked under his own belt. 

“Something to do with that?” Leon nodded to where the tension lay. The thick shape of Chris’ cock strained against denim. 

Apparently so. 

“Maybe.” That Redfield cockiness. Typical. Leon would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t transfixed. 

Belt off. Button popped. Fly loosened. Leon found himself cursing the fact the man wore underwear, interrupting the flow of the thick belly hair which was soon to meet pubes. 

Really it was like a goddamn strip tease. A drunken and slightly uncoordinated strip tease. 

Unable to get his hands on the man, Leon resulted to the next best thing. “Old dog still got his tricks?” Sarcasm. 

“Hardly older than you.” Evidently more than over Leon’s comment. 

“Careful, don’t hurt your back.” Leon said as Chris kicked off those jeans. The underwear did a poor job of concealing that erection. More than a pitched tent. The wetness of the man’s tip having turned the white fabric translucent. 

“Big words for the man who was moaning not long ago.” 

Yeah okay, that shut him up. 

Underwear off, pried from his body. Both naked. Fuck. 

Chris looked good. Really good. Each and every aspect of his being fell into place. Especially with what hung heavy between his thighs. Though Chris took no extra notice of it. Grabbing the condom and ripping it with his teeth, rolling it on like a second nature. Then moving forwards. 

Right away Leon found himself shifting down a bit, getting comfortable. Impatient. 

“Not too old to fuck you then?” 

“Bastard.” Was all Leon could say, hoping his bangs hid the light dusting of pink over his cheeks. He was a middle aged man for Christ sake. He did not blush. 

To which Chris just hummed, already aligning himself. A blunt prod. Leon twitched. 

He felt it. The sheer girth of Chris was certainly enough to warrant a reaction, thankful for the preparation. His body’s acceptance reliant on it. 

As he went further in Chris bore down, braced by an arm. The man’s face scrunched, evidently holding back. Leon reminding himself Chris hadn’t been touched the whole time. 

“Ahh fuck.” Chris sighed in nothing but pleasure. A noise which did far more to Leon than he cared to acknowledge.

Up close Leon could see everything, grey threaded through his beard, textured skin, small scars. The concentration. Their legs locked together while Chris bottomed out. 

Why hadn’t it happened sooner? Could he have had this the whole time? Had Chris wanted him just as much?

But Chris halted, their pelvis’ flush. Allowing both men a much appreciated adjustment period. It would have been a lie if Leon said he didn’t find satisfaction in it though. 

“Doing alright?” The man’s insatiable urge to check in. 

“Swear to god Chris,” Ignoring how his voice threatened to whimper. “If you don’t move I’m…” 

More than enough confirmation apparently. Chris already pulled away, catching nerves as he went back in. 

“Goddamn-” Dissolving into a useless noise the second air left Leon’s lungs. 

The pair of them too engulfed in their own bodily needs, panting hot and hard. Leon’s thoughts padded and fuzzy. Something more primal took the reins. 

So close. Their faces inches apart. Sharing breath while it happened. Leon’s cock trapped between their forms, drooling stupidly. Unhappy in its neglect. 

“Feel so good.” Chris heaved out. 

In response Leon could only make a fucked out little noise. Shrouded in his own desire. 

“Fuck, attaboy Leon.” Thrusting in a little harder than before. 

Leon could hear, but with the steady throb of his own cock combine with the sparks of life running through his veins, he was gone. Well and truly gone. Any and all responses were out of his control. 

“You take it so well.” Praised again as Chris went in, his voice not unaffected either. Meanwhile Leon only had that pathetic glazed over look in his eyes. The one which urged him to be ruined. 

Nothing other than the instruments of their bodies, played together in perfect unison. Chris angled himself just right, finding Leon’s prostate the the bold press of his cock. After that it was over. That knot having coiled around his insides, constricting everything from his very depths. The only thing felt was that tight uncomfortable need for release. 

“Chris,” Leon just about babbled. “Chris, Chris, Chris.” Embarrassing just how taken a part he was, unravelled at the seams. 

Despite being out of control, Leon felt the solid contractions around that cock, muscles morphed perfectly, squeezing the man to his limits and back again. If the long drawn out groans were anything to go by Chris enjoyed it as well.   

“I’m- Chris I’m- Gonna-”

“Shhhh.” Hushed with a tight diaphragm. 

Again and again and again, over Leon’s prostate. There was only so much he could endure. 

The knot snapped. Past the point of no return.

His cock spasmed between them, balls pumping out rope after rope, caught between them both. Not once did Chris stop, fucking him through it untouched. Each and every noise tumbled from Leon’s mouth as it happened, lost to the gratification of longing. Feeling as it rippled through him, pleasure expanding outwards. Riddled with nothing but sensation. 

And the whole time Chris’ cock got him through it, milking it with his body. Apparently it was too much for him as well. Above, Chris stilled. Rigid. A long drawn out sigh. That was the noise he made. No pornographic show, just authenticity. The man there trembling. A sight Leon wished he could fully understand. But he lay there exhausted, cock still dribbling, watching. Wishing to never forget the raw intimacy of what was happening.  

Eventually Chris lost balance, slumped on top, catching up to the world. All Leon could think to do was bring an arm around the man’s stupidly wide torso as he lay there caged. A loose embrace of sorts. Neither able to speak. Like wet sand had pooled in his limbs. 

Really he could have stayed like that forever. No stress. No thoughts. Only him and Chris. But that wasn’t fair was it? Attaching too much meaning to the interaction. What if Chris didn’t want that? Wasn’t like he had signed up to anything. Give Leon an accidental taster of what he could have had, then leave. Because what else was there to do? Leon would just have to deal with his own self sufficient misery. 

“Don’t go,” Mumbled into the conjunction of Leon’s neck. And to begin with Leon assumed he was hearing things. “Tomorrow,” There it was again. “Don’t go after the conference.” Chris had freed his face, the words unmistakeable. 

Anxious. Leon never thought he’d see the day Chris was anxious. Heart worn on his sleeve, everything to lose. 

“Take it we’re going to the conference together then?” Doing his best to grin. Though his voice hoarse, his head still swam and the mess between them had grown unpleasant. 
 
Apparently that was the correct answer.