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he's got legs, he knows how to use them

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The thing is, Chris has always appreciated a good pair of attractive legs. He still remembers how good his first ever girlfriend looked in a short skirt and heels, her legs accentuated by the clothes, even though he’s having troubles recalling anything else from her appearance. It had been all for fun, anyway, but the legs had definitely been what had drawn him in that first time, back in the day. And it hasn’t really changed since then. Chris knows what he likes.

But he has never been this into someone’s legs before. Never.

Obviously he has been aware that Leon has nice legs ever since he met the man. He might not have been really checking him out, per se, but he had noticed and he had vaguely appreciated the sight. At that point there hadn’t really been much more to do about it. They’d become friends, and although the awareness of that distant attraction was always there, it never got overwhelming.

Yet now, here he is, standing rooted on the spot, not even realizing that he’s quite clearly staring. On the other side of the gym, Leon is practicing different types of kicks, going fluently from snap kicks to hurricane kicks, practically waltzing through a whole array of roundhouse kicks Chris knows only like half of. He’s obviously so focused on what he’s doing that he doesn’t pay any attention to other people in the room.

Thank god for that. Otherwise Chris would have some explaining to do latest when he can feel drool gathering, and realizes that he’s practically salivating at the sight. Fuck his life. He came down to the gym to get rid of some excess energy, to lift a few sets or whatever, because a good workout always settles not only his body but also his mind. Instead he got such a show that the extra energy all but doubles.

Distantly Chris is aware of someone coming to stand next to him, but he doesn’t react to it, doesn’t even realize he’s being addressed, before there’s a hand waving right in front of his eyes. “Chris? Are you listening to me?”

Blinking, Chris shakes his head a little. “Uhm, yeah. Sure. I mean. No.” He closes his eyes for a second, collects himself the best he can, and finally looks straight at Piers who apparently followed him. “I mean, what?” He knows he sounds more than a little incoherent, probably looks dumbstruck too, but he inhales deep and tries to appear as calm as he can.

Judging by the amused glint in Piers’ eyes and the smile he can’t entirely hide, the attempt is an utter failure. Shit. “You told me to come get you as soon as the report arrives,” Piers says, “but if you have more important things to do…” He looks to the side, to where Chris had been staring at just seconds ago.

Unable to help himself, Chris follows his line of sight and looks, too. The jump kick he sees makes him count to ten in his head to make sure he’s not going to pop any inappropriate boners. “No, it’s good, fine. I–” He closes his eyes again, cursing himself inwardly, and with a grunt turns around to march out. “Fine. Let’s go.” He does have better things to do than objectify his friend.


Things only get progressively worse from then on. It’s like a switch was flipped in Chris’ brain and he went from ‘hi I’m Chris and I like nice legs’ to ‘hi I’m Chris and I’m fucking obsessed with Leon S. Kennedy and his goddamn legs and what’s up with that bendy shit anyway’. And it’s not like Leon has to be doing anything specifically eye-catching, he can just stand around half-leaning against a desk and all Chris wants to do is crawl between those legs.

If he’s honest with himself, Chris might’ve had a wet dream or two where he’s had Leon’s thighs bracketing his head. And if he’s spent a couple of sleepless nights thinking of how it would be to lick all the way from Leon’s ankles to his hipbone, then well, who’s to really know and judge him for it.

Except for himself, obviously.

The worst part is that Chris knows his brain short-circuits from lesser things already, and then he’s sometimes subjected to pure unadulterated hell (heaven). He has no idea how their common friends managed to somehow talk Leon into showing them friggin’ yoga poses. There’s Nadia, Helena and Jake, all of them obediently trying to follow suit as Leon demonstrates where they should bend their leg and where the correct arm position is.

And all Chris can think of is how he wants to throw everyone else out of the room so he can find out how flexible Leon really is. He’s got a feeling the answer is more than he can handle, but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want to know. He barely notices the others when they do their imitations with varied degrees of success, doesn’t even laugh with the others when Jake promptly falls on his ass after an overly ambitious stretch.

Chris only snaps back to reality when Claire reaches out and places two fingers underneath his chin, lifting it up to close his mouth. “You’re really not subtle at all,” she sighs, giving him an eyeroll, “I’d be surprised if I hadn’t already known you have the worst poker face in the entire world.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris grumbles. Then Leon bends his back and forms a perfect arch on his way to whatever pretzel he’s making next. Chris accidentally crushes the soda can in his hand.


Then there’s a joint operation where Chris and Leon have to work together. They’re in the middle of a swarm of infected, surrounded from all sides, and Chris honest to god spaces out when Leon spins around and practically kicks a zombie’s head off.

He doesn’t think it’s entirely appropriate to be this turned on while surrounded by flesh eating zombies. Doesn’t mean he can help it.


The first time Chris gets Leon’s legs wrapped around himself he nearly comes in his pants like a teenager. He groans, half because it feels so good, half mortified that Leon noticed and is going to laugh at him. He’s still wearing all of his clothes, and they’d only been kissing for a while before Leon had dropped back against the couch cushions and pulled Chris on top of him.

“Wow, you really went from zero to hundred in two seconds flat,” Leon comments, but it sounds more admiring than insulting, definitely, like he’s pleased by the reaction. Besides, he’s already reached his hand between them and palmed Chris’ growing hard-on through his pants, so who is Chris to really hold a grudge or anything. He can barely hold the air in his lungs.

“Yeah,” he answers, intelligently. Unable to resist, he runs his palms along Leon’s legs, starting from his ass and going all the way to his knees, where they are pressed against Chris’ sides. He pauses there for a second, before backtracking the same movement in reverse. He might just friggin’ whimper a tiny little bit, but he tries to ignore it and hopes Leon will, too.

Not his luck, though. Leon looks at him with something like curiosity mixed with realization, and arches a questioning eyebrow at him. “Do you have a… leg fetish?” he asks.

“No! I mean, yes. I mean…” Chris splutters. He takes a deep breath, knowing that there’s a traitorous blush on his cheeks. It’s a testament to how much he likes Leon, because it’s not common for him to be this flustered and shaken by …well, anything. It’s just Leon who does that to him. Hoping to score some points with honesty Chris decides to just go for it. “I like yours?”

Leon laughs. It’s not mocking, or disbelieving, or anything that might be considered negative in any way. He just sounds happy. “I can work with that,” Leon says after a beat, tightening the hold he has of Chris with his legs, pulling him closer to shamelessly rub their bodies together. “Let’s see what else you like.”

Turns out Leon is quite a lot more bendy than Chris had even dared to hope for.


Chris might’ve had this theory that when he finally gets to touch Leon’s legs regularly, he might get over his obsession and stop drooling after them at the most inconvenient of times. Maybe if he’d get his fill of touching Leon and being touched in return, his brain could just be satisfied with the knowledge that it’s a thing happening regularly and there’s no need for any embarrassing staring.

He’d been wrong.

If anything, it gets worse.

Minding his own business, entirely – or maybe thinking back to the previous night and the feeling of Leon’s leg hitched over his shoulder, shh – Chris tries to focus on the paperwork, the report that he’s started seven times already because every single attempt ends in him just losing his train of thought. He might’ve snapped a pencil or two in his frustration, already.

Then Leon appears. He’s wearing the exact pair of jeans that Chris complimented earlier and looks like a treat. Chris might already be staring when Leon steps into the room, but there’s really no helping him when Leon’s standing in front of him, and leans in to prop one foot on the edge of Chris’ chair to lean closer to him.

“Wanna go get some lunch?” Leon asks, looking completely innocent.

Chris knows better. Or he would know better if he’d managed to direct even one brain cell towards that expression and away from the leg so conveniently placed in his line of sight. Absent-mindedly he places a hand on Leon’s calf, making little rubbing movements with his thumb. Distantly he’s aware that Leon is talking but he’s not really listening to him anymore, as he’s instead tracking the inseam of Leon’s jeans with his gaze. Only after a while he realizes no one’s talking anymore, and with great effort looks up to meet Leon’s eyes.

“You didn’t hear a word I was saying, did you?” Leon asks, eyes glinting amusedly.

“Well,” Chris already begins, trying to come up with an excuse that might be believable enough. Then he catches the way Leon’s lips are twitching, a grin trying to break free, and instead of an excuse he gasps indignantly. “Wait… You did that on purpose?”

Leon only shrugs, laughing. “Of course I did.”


So Chris might be helplessly and irreversibly in love with Leon’s legs. And everything attached to them, if he’s being honest with himself. With time, he actually even learns not to be distracted by the gorgeousness at inappropriate times. Well, at least mostly.

Then he finds out that Leon has a thing for his hands. All Chris has to do is run a warm palm along Leon’s skin and Leon is reduced to a shivering mess. It’s kind of fair, he thinks, that they’re both helplessly addicted.


One day, Leon’s sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, focusing on something he’s reading. Chris wanders closer and lets himself fall face first into the couch, shuffling until he’s resting his head on Leon’s thighs while sprawled on the cushions next to him.

Lovingly he runs a palm over Leon’s knee and down his leg, giving it a small pat. “Would you marry me?” he asks, drawing circles onto Leon’s jeans with his index finger.

Leon huffs, indignant. “You’re proposing to my legs?”

As an answer, Chris just hums. “Yeah.” He waits for a beat before going on, magnanimously. “I guess I can take the rest of you, too.”

“You suck,” Leon says and slaps the back of Chris’ head. There’s amusement dancing in his tone, though, not a trace of anger. Even pretended.

Chris can only grin. “That wasn’t a ‘no’.”