"Hey, Jack. Will you get a loadda that?"
Jack Krauser looked up at his friend's call to see the truck unloading the newest trainees at the camp. His attention was immediately arrested by a small, sandy blond trainee standing amidst his taller and more muscular counterparts. "Jesus! Is Command that hard up for recruits that they're robbing cradles now? That kid can't be that long out of high school."
"What's the bet he'll washout in a year?"
"No bet.” Jack laughed derisively as he forced his thoughts away from that mighty fine looking piece of ass and turned his attention back on the codebook he had been studying. “There's no way he's going to make six years. I'll give him six weeks. Six months tops.”
However, it was also generally known that the kid had been scarred by the experience. Even now, some several months after the event, his fellow trainees would talk sympathetically among themselves about how he still found difficulty in sleeping through the night. Beyond the first few rough nights at the camp though, he had been careful not to wake his roommate or neighbours. Jack had even overheard some instructors discussing how to handle the ex-cop when he would suddenly exhibit PTSD symptoms in the middle of class. While his overreactions were understandable, it was, unfortunately, very dangerous for classmates and instructors who did not exercise caution around him during those thankfully infrequent periods. For the instructors, it was a juggle of allowance and freedom versus restraint and control, and knowing how to safely snap him out of a delusion where he'd imagine himself to be back in Raccoon City again. For fellow trainees, it made life-- interesting during and outside classes.
One had to be very careful not to startle Leon S. Kennedy for any reason. He'd already put three fellow trainees in the hospital with sprains or broken ribs when they came up behind him unexpectedly. In spite of all this, Kennedy was surprisingly well liked and popular among his peers. Some six months after he arrived at the camp and stood among his very much reduced group of fellow trainees, Jack was to learn why. And also to eat his own words regarding his belief that Kennedy would washout early.
During one of those rare moments when the instructors would bring old and new trainees together for lessons, Jack found himself standing before the class with his knife in hand and facing Kennedy. Jack didn't find himself to be anymore impressed with the rookie then than he was previously. It was noticeable that the man had bulked up some due to the special diet and rigorous exercise the camp foisted on all trainees, but while Kennedy stopped looking like jailbait, he was still small and 'puny' in comparison to most of the other trainees and instructors in the camp, bar the women. It brought to Jack's mind many instances of hearing his peers joking with the older trainees about watching the 'developing ass' of this fellow trainee. That he hadn't been 'propositioned' yet was bewildering news to Jack.
"Kennedy!” The instructor's call from the sidelines brought Jack's attention back to the man facing him. “Don't hold back, you hear me?!"
"But--" The smaller blond drew the combat knife from his shoulder mounted sheath with his right hand nervously.
"Yes, it's a real knife. But Krauser's an old hand.” Jack flashed a confident smile at the instructor when he glanced in his direction. “He'll be fine. So go it *full* tilt. You hear me, recruit?"
“And Krauser! I don't need dead recruits, so mind your enthusiasm.”
“Yes, Sir!” Jack snorted inwardly to himself as he watched the other man settle on the balls of his feet. He flashed Kennedy a predatory smile as he twirled his knife in his hand. "Come on, comrade. I won't hurt you... Much." This would be a piece of cake…
Jack wished that the instructor would just shut up. He had never been so embarrassed in all his life. The kid was good while he had been far too cocky and overconfident. After a few passes, he had noticed Kennedy's demeanour suddenly change which warned him that the kid wasn't seeing another human being as an opponent. The instructor recognised the danger immediately, but Jack had waved off his attempt to call a halt to the spar.
Jack had really thought he had Kennedy as he made use of his greater reach and strength to keep the man on the defensive. Then Kennedy suddenly launched into an attack and when Krauser had raised his blade to block an expected slash, the smaller man had tossed the knife, caught it in his left hand and struck at Jack's unprotected side. Too late, Jack remembered the advantage Kennedy's two-edged blade had over his own single edged blade, especially to one who was able to fight ambidextrously with a knife and could therefore flip the said weapon from hand to hand.
In that split second, Kennedy slipped within his guard and Jack barely pulled back in time to avoid getting the knife up his chin and through his brain. He had been lucky that the knife only sliced his lips and face and that the splash of blood woke Kennedy from his moment of unreality before he could follow through with an eviscerating slash. If this fight had been for real out in the field...
“Now I have a kid out there who thinks-- no-- who *knows* he damn near killed you! Do you know how many months you've set him back in therapy?”
Jack winced at the memory of Kennedy's shock. The kid had been terrified, concerned and apologetic. *Now* Jack realised why Kennedy was so well respected and hadn't had to deal with any harassment shit among his more muscular peers. The kid was definitely good, but he didn't put on airs and he showed genuine concern and embarrassment for injuring him.
“You're damn lucky you didn't lose an eye!”
At that reminder, Jack's hand unconsciously reached up to touch the bandages on his numbed face. Oh, it was going to hurt like the blazes once the anaesthesia wore off. The stitching, Jack knew, was going to scar and scar bad. Well… when he looked at himself in a mirror from now on, he'd remember to never underestimate his opponent, nor to judge a person from looks alone.
“Christ! Krauser, you know better than to relax when we have training with real weapons.” The instructor was still ranting. "And what the hell were you *thinking* when Kennedy went into a kill-or-be-killed mode? Shit! He's killed literally hundreds before we ever got our hands on him. You should have broken off the spar!"
Jack sighed inwardly and let him go on. He knew that he had handed the instructor as great a scare to have one recruit almost cause the death of another. And Kennedy? Jack told himself that he really should have known better than to take it easy on a man who had, not a year earlier, slaughtered *well* over a hundred zombies and BOWs during his track to look for survivors and when escaping a doomed city. As it was, the kid probably had a higher kill record than the whole camp put together. The instructors had their work cut out for them in training an operative who could slip easily into killer mode when necessary. Somehow, Jack just knew that contrary to his first assessment of the man, Kennedy was going to make it to the top.
Jack sighed, he couldn't deal with this. For the last few months, every time Kennedy saw him he came over to apologize. The stitches were out and the angry red scaring was finally beginning to fade, but the kid would still cringe whenever they met.
He tried to be patient, really. But the kid was starting to wear down his nerves. It did not help that his classmates, and some of Kennedy's friends to boot, delighted in reminding Jack of the smaller man's apparent superior skill with a knife. It embarrassed the kid, and that only made him want to apologize even more. And because the younger man was almost in his face nearly every day, Jack had begun to take notice of him. More and more, Jack was finding himself appreciating how well the trainers were developing the musculature on the kid.
“I heard you the first one hundred times. It was more my fault than yours. I should have been more on guard.”
“You really think you could have handled him, Krauser?” One of Kennedy's buddies came up behind him to slip an arm around the man's shoulders. “Our man Skippy here's a right devil when he wants to be.”
From where he stood, Jack was the only one who noticed the scowl on Kennedy's face at the much loathed nickname. The 'friend' had been lucky that the counselling the instructors stepped up for Kennedy, after the fateful knife fight, had helped the kid deal with the memories of his flight from Raccoon City. Six months ago, coming up behind Kennedy like that would have resulted in the unfortunate sod being thrown across the room by the wild-eyed man. It earned Kennedy a nickname of 'Skippy' among his peers for his hair-trigger attack response when he was accidentally startled.
“Them's fighting words, kid. Want a rematch, 'Skippy'?”
“No!” Kennedy's eyes went wide as he quickly ducked behind his buddy. “Not without an instructor around, I mean. And… I'm really sorry, Krauser.”
Jack stared after the departing men, glad to be left alone again. Gods… the kid looked mighty fine as compared to the other muscle bound men in the camp. You couldn't blame a guy for staring after being isolated and deprived of female company for so long. Kennedy was fortunate he was respected, besides being an able and dangerous fighter with hair-trigger reflexes. No one wanted to deal with possibly dying just for a free grope.
'I'm sorry.' He had heard that so many times in the last few months… His friends were starting to wonder why Jack was so tolerant with the kid's awkwardness. They expected him to blow up ages ago. And Jack was wise enough to figure out that his 'pals' were egging Kennedy along because they wanted to see Jack lose his cool and blow up. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.
On the other hand, Jack also knew he was subconsciously wishing and waiting for Kennedy to go further and ask *how* he could make it up to him. Jack had whiled away many an hour fantasying about what he would have Kennedy do for him-- Gods… he needed a break from training and to get out someplace where there was ready company he could safely seduce or at the least buy.
After a few hours of drinking where he watched on the sidelines while his friends and peers drifted away with a woman or two on their arm, Jack brushed off the many offers he received and called it a night. The last person he had wanted to bump into when he returned to camp, and entered the communal showers for a wash before he headed for his rooms, was Kennedy.
Oh, Gods… The kid was looking mighty good in the nude and surrounded by a fine mist of steam that left little to the imagination. Jack felt a formerly recalcitrant part of him spring to life and strain against his jeans. Shit!
Having sensed his presence, the smaller man had swung around to stare at his rigid form. “Krauser?”
Jack's mouth had gone dry the moment he got his first full frontal look of the kid. The light blush on the man's cheeks as he tried to modestly cover himself from his scrutiny just made Jack feel even more aroused.
“What are you doing here?” Jack had to be thankful that his voice hadn't cracked.
“What's it to you?” The kid had bristled at him a touch defensively. “What are you doing back here so soo--? Oh…“
“Kennedy.” Jack groaned inwardly. He could just imagine the cogs turning in the kid's head. “It's not what you're thinking--“
That did it. Jack later blamed his reaction on the complex combination of favourable factors that lead to their meeting like this. He strode forward right through the spray of water to slam the smaller man up against the wall. “Look Kennedy! I am sick and tired of hearing you say that! It's just words to me now! If you're that sorry, why don't you do something about it and get over it?”
“But--“ The other man had looked down and away not willing to meet his eyes.
"What? You think I'm not going to get laid ever again 'cause of this?” Jack lifted his chin to force him to meet his gaze. “What? You think you want to make up for it?"
“And what would you have me do?” The softly said words went straight to his groin.
Shit! He hadn't expected this. The offer was in the man's entire body language and Jack couldn't find it within him to refuse, whether or not the other man understood what he had just unleashed.
The kid had tensed at the first touch of his lips, but he hadn't struggled nor tried to bite the tongue Jack had shoved past his teeth. Kennedy tasted of mint with a slight hint of coffee, telling Jack that he had probably eaten at the cafeteria and just brushed his teeth before his shower.
There were a lot of things he should have done, but Jack ignored his conscience and listened to his screaming libido as he pressed up against the wet and nude, lithe figure he had been daydreaming of for months. When he later reflected on this, Jack had to admit that the man probably hadn't expected him to react the way he did. The lack of a corresponding erection had registered, but Jack hadn't cared. Kennedy hadn't relaxed into the kiss either, yet he pushed aside any consideration towards backing off. Jack had a need that demanded fulfilling and where available women couldn't stir up the interest, Kennedy did and he had made an offer.
He was all over the smaller man with lips, teeth and hands. It was addictive to hear what tiny gasps and moans he could pull out of the man with strategic nips, licks, pinches and caresses. Even as he was drawing a responsive erection from Kennedy, Jack had a sudden thought that this could all be totally new to him. However, that only pushed his libido up several notches as he found himself determined to be the one to have the kid's cherry ass.
“Krauser?” His questing lips prevented Kennedy from saying much or managing to raise any protests.
Soap slicked fingers found Kennedy's treasured pucker and Jack swallowed the gasp he let loose at the determined probe. Oh, the kid was going to be tight. Jack was getting harder in his eagerness to plunder that converted hole. For the first time since they started, Jack felt the kid begin to struggle against him. He didn't let off though. Before Kennedy could get his wits together to put up any meaningful resistance, Jack's exploring fingers found his prostate. At the firm rub, Kennedy had flung his head back in a gasp of pleasure that exposed the long column of his neck to Jack's eager assault.
The kid finally let go of himself with the repeated probing against his prostate gland, panting in Jack's ear as he clung to him after his legs failed to hold him up. Taking this as the moment to finally fulfil his need too before he blew his load prematurely, Jack made Kennedy loosen his hold about his neck and turn around to grab onto one of the pipes while he unzipped his jeans to free his eager cock. His hand had quickly clamped over the smaller man's mouth to stifle his scream when he stabbed forward to push the head of his cock into the stretched, soap slicked hole.
It was agony for Jack to wait for Kennedy to relax before he started thrusting. But he waited patiently for the smaller man to get used to his presence within him, careful to keep his hand over Kennedy's mouth while licking and placing soft kisses and gentle nips on his back and neck. Gods, Kennedy was tight. Tighter than any woman he had ever taken to his bed. Jack just knew he had never done this before.
It felt like an eternity had passed before he felt the man begin to relax, and for Jack to feel safe about continuing his slide into the constrictive tunnel. He did it in small, slow thrusts, mindful of the newness of this all to the kid and not wanting to tear him up. Jack could feel a Cheshire like grin spreading over his face as Kennedy's hands left the pipes for a moment to grip his hands and reposition them on one of his nipples and over his reviving erection. He obligingly pulled and played with the hardening numbs of his lover's nipples and began stroking Kennedy's erection in time to his thrusts.
The sound of hard boots clattering in the corridor outside the showers made them freeze. Jack cursed inwardly as he felt the erection instantly flag in his grip. He had a sudden sense that if anyone discovered them in the communal showers they may ask to join in. He could feel himself bristle at the thought of being asked to 'share' Kennedy.
"Let's finish this where we won't be interrupted." He reluctantly drew out of the sweet tunnel and laid a kiss against Kennedy's chin.
Jack carefully kept a hold of the kid as he helped him cover up for the stealthy dash to Krauser's quarters. He knew that if he let Kennedy pull away, the kid would bolt. Already, Jack could tell that he was seriously having second thoughts over his capitulation to Krauser's demands.
In his quarters with the door locked and farther barricaded with a chair, Jack turned to face his pale lover in the moonlit room. The erection that had flagged during their run to the living quarters flared to life again at the sight of the slightly trembling figure seated demurely on his bed.
“Strip, S--Kennedy.” He changed his address immediately, remembering the smaller man's dislike of the nickname awarded to him by his peers.
“Krau--“ Jack took the two steps necessary to bring him within reach and drowned whatever Leon might have said with a searing kiss.
“Jack.” He breathed softly against Leon's panting mouth when he finally let the man up for air. “I want to hear you call me 'Jack' when I make you come.”
“K-- J--Jack, I--“
“Strip, Leon. I want to see all of you.”
Jack well knew that his smile looked predatory as he watched the blushing man begin to remove the clothes they had covered him up with at the showers. He hadn't allowed Leon to fold them, taking each article from his hands to throw or drape over any convenient piece of furniture within his reach.
With the final article of clothing gone, Leon had scooted up on Jack's bed and, after hesitating for a moment, spread his legs before his watching eyes. Jack almost shot his load in his pants to see the man laying himself before him like a sacrifice. He nearly tore his clothes off in his haste to free his erection and climb between Leon's legs.
However, before he could get closer, Leon's hands had reached out to touch Jack's face and to stroke a finger over the scar that ran from his scalp down an eye and over his lips. Rather than feel angry with the reminder though, Jack felt as if the nerves of the scar had been hard wired to his groin. He needed to feel himself buried in Leon's tight heat and to feel it now.
With no thought towards using more lubricant or to check and stretch his lover again, Jack grabbed Leon around the waist, lifted him into position and stabbed in, almost bottoming out immediately with that forceful shove. Leon's hands had immediately moved from Jack's face to his shoulders, clutching them in a bruising white knuckled grip as his face reflected his pain from the sudden impalement. With his head swimming in mindless arousal for the tight heat his cock was enclosed in, Jack started whispering nearly nonsensical endearments as he laid tiny kisses over Leon's face and shoulders, while Leon chewed on his lips to stop himself from whimpering in pain.
“Sorry. Sorry. I couldn't wait, Baby. Couldn't wait any longer. Had to have you, Baby. Had to feel myself in you. Relax, Baby. Relax, the pain will be gone in a minute.”
At later reflection, Jack had to admit to himself that he'd wondered why Leon hadn't torn his throat out with his teeth when he had called him 'Baby'. He could have. At that moment, Jack had been in no state to recognise danger even if it up and slapped him on the butt. The crushing grip around his cock was sending his senses into La La land. It was only a lot later that memory supplied him with the script of his embarrassing babbling.
It took a long time for Leon's fierce clutch to ease on Jack's shoulders, and from the ache he was already beginning to feel, Jack knew that he was going to show some mighty powerful bruises on his arms for the next week or two. As he watched, Leon slipped down to lie back against Jack's pillows. He could feel the man's body relax and go limp, instantly making Jack think of the advice their instructors had given them in one of their classes concerning interrogation… and rape.
“Leon…” It frustrated Jack that the man wouldn't look at him, but carefully hid his eyes behind his fringe.
Feeling Jack's erection going limp within its velvety sheath was probably the only reason why Leon at last turned to look at him. Jack raised a hand to gently brush his fringe away from his eyes. “I want you. But if you want to go, I'll let you go.”
Again, Leon's hand rose to gently trace the scar that ran down Jack's face, and the touch renewed his erection. Jack reached to catch Leon's hand and kiss the palm before turning it to allow him to kiss along the length of his arm until he reached the smaller man's face. Once there, he laid small kisses over Leon's chin before claiming his mouth hungrily.
Leon's other hand had moved to slide up and down Jack's bicep before it moved to brush over his neck and into his hair. It hesitated there for just a moment before it changed into a grip that helped to pull Jack's face tighter against his as Leon also started taking an active role in the kiss.
Jack was feeling his erection returning with a vengeance as they mutually devoured each other's mouths. Though the positioning was awkward, he started to rock his hips slightly as they continued their tongue duel. Soon enough though, Leon broke the kiss and arched away so that he could hook his legs around Jack's waist to help pull his ass into his lover's thrusting movements.
That effort was enough consent for Jack to start fucking the smaller man more forcefully. His hands quickly slid down Leon's body to hold him by his hips and buttocks, moving him into position for Jack to start making long, hard thrusts into the heavenly, clenching heat. Jack paid careful attention to his lover's body as he shifted Leon under him until the man started making delightful little mews of pleasure and clutched at the bed sheets beside his face, telling Jack that he finally got the angle right to be brushing against the man's prostate with every stroke.
Jack upped the force and speed of his thrusts with Leon's very vocal and physical encouragement as the man's legs locked around Jack's waist to pull him harder and faster into him with every stroke. With that additional support, Jack moved a hand from Leon's waist to the man's neglected cock to begin stroking and squeezing it in time to his fucking.
“Leon, call my name. Call my name.” And for the next several minutes, that was all the sound that filled the room; whispers of their names punctuated by the hard, wet slap of thrusting hips hitting receptive buttocks.
The forceful constriction of muscles around his cock when Leon came was enough to set Jack off as well to geyser into the sweet clenching heat. It took a long time for the stars to clear from Jack's eyes as he trembled on shaking arms over his lover's recumbent body. Every muscle screamed for him to let himself drop and mould his body over the one on his bed and smear the come of Leon's release between them. But Jack held strong; he well knew that it was neither romantic, nor desirable by his lover to be crushed under his weight.
Leon's hand reached to touch his face again, this time letting his fingers glide over the trails of sweat that stood on Jack's face. Jack pulled him up and into a kiss that left them panting for breath when he finally released him. Still balls deep within the smaller man, Jack got his second wind and was quickly hard once more. Leon had made a tiny moan which could have been read as distress when Jack started rocking into him again, but the man didn't try to push Jack away or even make an attempt to dislodge him.
They fucked three more times through the night. The last two times with Leon's back to him so that Jack could take him from behind. Once with the man straddling his lap so that Jack could play with his cock and balls while he ravished the man's neck from behind and bucked into the constrictive heaven. Once with the man on his hands and knees while Jack ploughed forcefully into him from behind, hard enough to send the whole bed rocking and creaking. Sometime during the second last fuck, Jack had slipped a condom on the smaller man so that they didn't need to worry about a wet spot when they were ready to collapse and sleep. He didn't bother to use one himself though, desiring the intimacy of spending himself in Leon's ass. The fourth fuck of the night finally did them both in, and they settled to sleep at last with Jack pulling Leon on top of him so that he could stay spooned behind the smaller man and firmly embedded in his ass.
“Hey, Jack?! You finally awake in there?”
Hearing his friend at his door, Jack came abruptly to full consciousness as he glanced about him frantically to see if Leon had left any evidence of his presence behind. There was none except for a spent condom in the trash. Groaning, Jack flopped back into bed as his door swung open and a couple of his buddies trooped in.
The hand print bruises on his shoulders stood out as did the unmistakable smell of sex in the room. “You sly dog! You managed to sneak a woman into camp?”
“Don't kiss and tell.” Jack grunted at them, wondering how his buddy expected his date to have managed to sneak out again.
A laugh greeted his words. “And here we thought your cock was broke last night the way you kept brushing off all those dames.” Jack smirked internally. Oh, it was far from 'broke'. Four rounds in all wasn't too bad a count.
“Damn! The way you had that mob of ladies circling you last night, maybe we should ask Skippy to give us a slice to make us chick-magnets too.”
That statement had Jack sitting up in bed fast as he had a sudden image of Leon letting himself be fucked by a scarred man who was *not* him. “Lay off the kid, Matt. He's already apologised enough.” And more…
Jack tuned out the laughter and teasing of his friends as he laid his head on his knees. He remembered the way Leon had touched the scar on his face the previous night, and he realised then that last night meant nothing to the kid. It was just payback for the scarring and injury. In the light of day, and now that his libido wasn't in control of his brain anymore, Jack's conscience hit him full force and yelled at him for taking advantage of confused kid. Any way he looked at it, Jack knew that Leon only allowed Jack to fuck him because he thought it would make up for injury the smaller man had inflicted to his face. That was as good as rape.
Leon would probably never tell anyone, and they'd likely just keep it between the two of them, but Jack knew that what happened last night would stay with the kid for as long as he lived. They needed to talk; while Jack wasn't too keen on the idea of having Leon press charges, he did need to make it up to him. At the least, he needed to apologize and try to undo what damage he had done to the man's psyche.
Jack wasn't anymore pleased to hear the scuttlebutt around the camp gossiping over how Skippy's PTSD had seemed to take a turn for the worse with the man jumping whenever anyone even casually brushed in close proximity to him. Only Jack knew that that reaction had nothing to do with Leon's experience in Raccoon City, and it made his guilt increase ten-fold.
He tried everything he could think of to confront and talk to Leon without the involvement of their instructors. But Leon continued to avoid him. And before Jack knew it, his class was moving on to a new training facility.
As he lugged his kit to the waiting transport, Jack stared about him miserably hoping perhaps he'd have a last chance to have a few words with Leon before he left. A look from behind a curtained window was all he got and Jack felt the crushing guilt hit him to see the plain confusion and apprehension in the gaze that Leon gave him. Of all the stupid things he had ever done, the damage he had inflicted on this man was most probably the worst. If Leon washed out, Jack knew that it would be his fault. But somehow, he felt that Leon wouldn't let himself fail.
The man had faced the disaster of Raccoon City as a rookie and emerged alive. That showed him to be a man with more strength than a good many men he knew. Despite what Jack had done to him, Jack did hope that Leon had strength enough in him to deal with the set back he had inflicted.
For now though, Jack could only hope that their paths would cross again so that he could make amends. Until then, he would see the reminder of his selfishness and stupidity every day with the scar down his face.