Piers’s shout rang loud and urgent across the crowded airstrip, Piers refusing to stumble beneath the heavy load over his shoulders, but also knowing he wasn’t going to be able to keep standing much longer like this. The Captain weighed at least fifty pounds more than him and even though Chris was trying to keep some of his weight to himself, his footsteps were weak from the blood loss of his injuries and they were both waterlogged and exhausted. Surviving the underground Neo-Umbrella facility had been nothing short of a miracle and Piers was still counting his lucky stars. Chris’s blood was staining his side, but it wasn’t serious and he was still breathing in Piers’s ear, albeit harshly. Piers wasn’t going to be picky about the circumstances of their survival.
Men in BDUs with the Red Cross beneath their BSAA globe ran for them, and Piers smiled raggedly in relief. “Here they are, Captain,” he said, turning his smile to Chris and feeling relieved when Chris gave him one of his own. Piers couldn’t remember when was the last time Chris had really smiled at him, but it had to have been well over six months ago. And now, even as the medics came forward and ordered Piers to hand Chris over, just as he’d wanted, Piers was suddenly reluctant to let the man go.
He’d searched high and low for his captain, and now the idea of giving the man up so easily didn’t sit well in the pit of his stomach. Since finding Chris in Edonia, Piers hadn’t left Chris’s side for a minute, through thick and thin. Was he really going to stoop so low to leaving Chris on his own now that everything was said and done? Hands pulled at Chris’s soaked clothes, but Piers hesitated to release him.
“Piers,” Chris said, his gruff, commanding voice absent, his tone now filled with warmth like he’d had for Piers six months ago. “I’m gonna be okay. You should go.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Piers said, hoisting Chris further up his shoulder, deciding he was going to stick with his captain even beyond the end of the line. “I’ll carry him,” he told the medics firmly.
“Absolutely not,” Chris denied to Piers’s surprise. “You’ve been dragging me along for days, Nivans, it’s time you let go of the rope.”
Piers was too tired to understand his captain’s stupid analogies. “I’m not going to just leave you,” Piers argued. “There’s still things to be done, just because we stopped Neo-Umbrella and Carla and Simmons doesn’t mean that—”
“You’re not abandoning me.”
Piers’s mouth slammed shut, teeth clacking. Chris was still smiling at him. “The doctors will check me out and you’ll find me when you’re ready. You’re still my soldier, Piers. I’m still your captain. And after this, we’ll still be family. Even if we’re not glued to the side like we were before, you’re still my brother.” Chris cut his chin to the hangars beyond, where temporary relief had been set up along the Yuenmon PLA Air Force base. Having UN allies just about everywhere was starting to pay off again and Piers knew it would be easy to find Chris in this mess no matter how far apart they ended up. Piers was still part of Chris Redfield’s team. They’d see each other again very soon— Piers was willing to bet less than twenty-four hours. Yet still—
“I don’t have anywhere else to be but with you,” Piers said. Until they got orders from the BSAA on where to go next, they would just be waiting for Chris to get his wound checked out and his medical leave set up and spent. Being at Chris’s side was the most efficient thing Piers could do because Chris’s orders were Piers’s orders. He’d thought his argument was sound until Chris raised a challenging brow. “Captain?”
“I’ve been remembering a lot,” Chris said, lowering his voice. The medics had long ago taken a step back, letting them hash this out, but Piers still appreciated Chris’s courtesy when Chris continued. “I remembered some certain feelings between you and a special agent of the U.S. President.”
Piers’s cheeks went scarlet. “I’m not—”
“Going to lie?” Chris interrupted. “Good.” He cut his eyes to another hangar further away, where tents were lined up in front. There was a small crowd of soldiers between Piers and those tents, but not enough to keep him from seeing the moment a helicopter landed and a certain blond man smoothly dropped out from the cargo hold, walking briskly across the tarmac in the opposite direction of Piers.
Piers cleared his throat and tried to save face. “He’s busy.”
“That’s been your excuse for the past two years,” Chris said, sounding tired. “And honestly, I’m not gonna take that excuse for anything anymore. If you bow out this time, you owe me a keg of my favorite beer, and you owe me a keg every time you chicken out in the foreseeable future.”
“You can’t make me do that,” Piers huffed. Then Chris raised his brow again and Piers realized he definitely could. Chris had Claire Redfield on his side. Piers looked down at his feet, his scuffed, bloody boots that he prayed he could salvage. “I don’t think he wants to see me.”
“The only person who knows that is him,” Chris replied. “You’ve been dancing around him for too long. Look at what we survived, Piers. Go make a move now that you’ve lived to have the chance.”
“But if he’s busy—”
“Look back at that city,” Chris said. “At what we all survived. If he’s busy, I’ll have to tear a new one into what is left of DSO. He just came out of an apocalyptic war zone. If anything, I want you going over there and ensuring he isn’t busy. Got it?” Chris pulled away from Piers, grunting with the pain and the effort and leaning into one of the medics that seemed relieved to have control of the wounded captain. “Go see him— do something. Just don’t die with any regrets.” Chris winked at him. “See you soon, soldier— hope you’re a little less lonely next time around.”
Chris was led away by the medics and Piers was left with a difficult decision. His body ached, but he had no pressing injuries that would put him above any other man in the medical tents. He could go for a shower and a hot meal, but he was sure Agent Kennedy could too. Maybe he should grab something from mess? Agent Kennedy probably wouldn’t appreciate an MRE after all that shit, though. God, how had the man even ended up here? When was the last time Leon had slept? Why couldn’t Piers just stop being a coward and stop only worrying about the man from afar? Why couldn’t he cross the tarmac and actually do something?
Because it had always been like this. Ever since Piers had first seen Agent Kennedy two years ago, he’d been crushing, and crushing hard. Everyone knew it, even fucking Jill Valentine knew of Piers’s crush and teased him for it. And he deserved the teasing because all he could do was pine from afar, never having the guts to do or say anything. If he was going to be a coward, he deserved the teasing.
The way Piers saw it, and always had, was that Agent Kennedy was so far out of his league that Piers was better off just hoarding memories of the man and never letting himself reach for what he couldn’t have. Hell, the first time he’d ever met Agent Kennedy was coincidentally the first time Piers had ever fucked up so badly on an op that he’d needed his ass saved. His vantage point for covering the team had been compromised mid-shot and Piers hadn’t been able to get to his side arm in time before a Licker had been on him, pinning him, that awful tongue thrashing and going for his soft insides while Piers had desperately tried to keep the claws from piercing his flesh. Chris had been screaming in his ear and Piers had been mortally afraid, counting his last seconds alive as some of the worst of his life, wondering what color his casket would be, wondering what they would say at his funeral.
And then there’d been a knife slicing through the engorged brain of the Licker and a man silently yanking the Licker off Piers’s fragile body, shoving the monster across the room and slamming five bullets dead center in the face, putting the Licker down once and for all. Piers had gasped for breath and stared up at his savior and, essentially, fallen in love.
(He’d told himself it wasn’t love for three months— the Suspension Bridge Effect wasn’t rare among soldiers and Piers had been convinced his rush of infatuation for the man that had saved his life had just been the adrenaline and fear of death disguising itself as arousal— but had realized that after four months of wondering about the man and yearning to see him again, it was probably more than just a fluke)
Agent Kennedy had offered him a hand and Piers’s had found himself forgetting to answer his captain in favor of holding that hand in his own shaking grip and staring up at the other man. Strong, formidable, professional, fucking hot. Kennedy had everything Piers had fought to ignore in other men during his adolescence. And Piers’s infatuation had only gotten worse from there, stealing glances into files, asking Chris and Claire the subtlest questions he could possibly manage, trying to catch the man’s eyes when they crossed paths on assignments however rarely that was. Piers was foolishly in love but had resigned himself to never do anything about it because Agent Kennedy was so far out of his league that they didn’t even breathe the same atmosphere. And Piers had accepted that.
But— Piers had just almost died. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, but it was the first time he’d almost died and been acutely aware that dying could mean the end of the world. There had been only six people handling that disaster well enough to make a difference. That kind of pressure— it was something Agent Kennedy put up with every time he went out, wasn’t it? In the present, Piers bit his lip, hating how much he wanted to follow Chris’s suggestion and go after the agent to offer some sort of comfort. He hadn’t seen that brunette woman exit the helicopter with Agent Kennedy. Could he really be alone?
Piers pictured Agent Kennedy sitting all by himself in a small, dark room, isolated and abandoned even after what he’d survived. The image settled so badly in Piers’s gut that it spurred him into action. Before he could think twice, he was halfway across the tarmac to the tents and asking for Agent Kennedy, following sparse directions to a tent in the furthest section of the area meant for communication and organization of the reclaiming of Lanshiang. Piers’s heart sunk as he realized Agent Kennedy was part of the group of people assigned with going back into that hell and cleaning things up. Was the man never going to get a break?
Piers stood in front of the tent, weighing his options, his odds of success versus failure. Even if he went into this tent and tried to be just a friend, would Agent Kennedy welcome him? He’d shared a few dinners with the man, always with Chris and the other members of the team between them to some degree. He’d never actually been alone with Agent Kennedy outside of an operation where being overtly friendly wasn’t exactly smart, nor welcome. Piers had never taken up Agent Kennedy’s space as the sole center of attention before. If Piers went into this tent, there was a very good chance he’d be the only thing in Agent Kennedy’s focus for the first time ever. He thought of Agent Kennedy’s sharp blue eyes on him and only him and bit his lip, telling himself he could do it. Piers had faced down a giant water monster, so talking to his crush should be easy, right?
Except his crush was Agent Leon S. Kennedy and Piers was just some sniper.
Piers sighed and knocked his boots on his heels, psyching himself up. Worse came to worse, Agent Kennedy would send him away. Piers didn’t know what he was going to say, so he’d stick with the first thing that came to mind. They were all lucky to be alive and that was all that mattered.
Piers pushed aside the flap of the entrance and let himself into the small space of the tent, taking in the field chairs at one side with a cot with a ratty mattress at the other that had a duffel bag on the floor beside it, a HAM radio at the opposite side of the tent with Agent Kennedy bowed over the device. He was holding a headset to his right ear, listening intently.
Piers stared at the man’s ass for a much longer moment than was appropriate and then cleared his throat. Agent Kennedy turned and looked to Piers from over his shoulder, surprise showing clearly on his face. The agent dropped the headset, turning a few dials and stepping away from the HAM radio entirely. “I thought you’d be with Chris,” Agent Kennedy said, sounding confused as to why Piers was here. “Is he alright?” Agent Kennedy’s eyes dragged over Piers and Piers fought to keep from blushing. “Are you alright?”
“We’re fine, Sir,” Piers replied, defaulting into a parade rest. “Captain Redfield is getting treated in medical. His injuries aren’t life threatening and he’s also made huge leaps in memory recovery, so he should be the same old Captain any day now.” Piers bit his lip, remembering what he’d told himself to say. First thing that came to mind.
“I didn’t like pointing my gun at you.”
Well— that was sure something he could say.
Agent Kennedy raised a brow. “I doubt that,” he said, leaning against the table that held the radio with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m sure every single BSAA operative has thought about putting a bullet in me one way or another, let alone just pointing their gun at my head.” Agent Kennedy smiled a little and Piers felt his chest tighten at the sight. “You were protecting your captain— it was worth it.”
(It hadn’t been like that— it hadn’t been something Piers had wanted, an out of body experience that was part of being a soldier, doing something he didn’t want to do because his CO was his priority and the woman they’d thought was Ada Wong was being protected by Agent Kennedy, but god, words couldn’t describe the sickness Piers had felt in his heart when they’d found out Agent Kennedy had been right)
Piers shook his head, swallowing hard. “I hated it,” he confessed, his voice small and weak. “I know it might sound strange to you, but pointing my gun at you was easily one of the worst moments of my entire life and I don’t think I’ll ever get over it or the way you looked at me down the barrel of my gun.”
Leon stared at him, blinking slowly like he was either tired or too stunned to respond. His mouth hung open and all he said was a very quiet, “Oh.”
Piers stood tall with his shoulders thrown back and nodded. “Oh,” he echoed, because that pretty much summed it up. “Agent— Agent Kennedy. May I ask you something?”
Agent Kennedy still seemed dazed. “Shoot.”
Piers made a face. “Is that some sort of bad joke?”
“Fuck.” Agent Kennedy ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, g-go for it.”
Piers didn’t continue, his heart going wild in his chest while Agent Kennedy watched him expectantly. Piers hadn’t even realized what he’d been about to ask until it had been too late to shove down and ignore all over again. His throat was dry and his hands behind his back were clammy. Piers stared into those eyes that reminded him of the blue skies of his childhood and wondered if he’d even be able to get the words out.
“Look at what we survived.”
Piers took in a deep breath. “I was thinking— I mean, I know you’re a busy man, Sir, and that you have a lot of people expecting things from you, and I know you don’t exactly live nearby, but if you’re ever in the Ottawa area, I was wondering if— well, only if you’d like to, if maybe you’d want— I just, if it isn’t took much to ask, I was going to ask you if you’d like it—”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
Agent Kennedy’s question nearly had Piers choking on his words worse than he had before. “That is, Sir, if you—”
Agent Kennedy cut his hand through the air. “If you’re trying to ask me on a date, maybe drop the ‘sir.’”
Piers nodded because that made sense. “Agent Kennedy—"
Oh god. He wet his lips. “Leon.
Leon uncrossed his arms to run a hand over his face. He was in the same clothes he’d worn in Lanshiang, the slack and the button-up, only the vest absent from Leon’s person. He looked good in a way that was horribly unfair to the rest of the human race even with bloodstains clinging to the fabric. Piers felt completely out of his depth.
“Leon,” Piers said again, forcing the words past his numb lips. “If you’re ever in the same area as me with a lot less death and a lot less evil, would you maybe have some time to give me so I can take you out?”
Leon’s eyes bored into him. “What does Chris have to say about this?”
“He wants me to do it,” Piers replied. And then, because he wanted to get some of his footing back, “Why? Are you scared of him?”
“When it comes to you?” Leon cut his head to the side. “Absolutely.” Leon rubbed the back of his neck and Piers was sure he’d start sweating soon the longer Leon failed to give an answer. He wanted to press, but at the same time, the longer he was in Shrödinger’s box, the longer it would be before he had to face his emotional death when rejected. Leon bent forward a little, his expression obscured by his hair. Then his shoulders started shaking. And then he began to laugh.
Piers was stupefied. “Leon?” he called out as Leon’s body trembled with the laughter, quiet and unobtrusive, so perfectly and unmistakably Leon even though Piers had never heard the sound before. “Are you okay?”
Leon lifted his head. He was smiling the widest Piers had ever seen and his eyes were twinkling. “You promise Chris won’t kill me?”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Piers said, scared to guess and feel hopeful.
Leon suddenly pushed off the desk and strode across the small expanse of the tent. Piers fell out of the parade rest out of some sort of panic, taking an involuntary step back because the intensity of Leon’s gaze told him something was about to collide. He opened his mouth, an apology at the tip of his tongue, giving Leon the perfect opportunity to grab Piers by the jaw with both hands and pull him in to seal their mouths together.
Leon tore Piers away from the entrance, all but dragging him to the cot, their mouths never parting. Piers’s eyes slid shut, trusting Leon not to send them tripping to the floor, too overwhelmed by what was happening to be of any use. Leon was kissing him, Leon was kissing him. He felt like flying and falling at the same time, like he’d soared into the sky while simultaneously dropping in a roller coaster, his stomach was doing flips and his heart was in his throat and Leon tasted so fucking good that Piers couldn’t think straight. His mouth was hot and hungry for Piers. This was so far beyond a dream come true that he didn’t have words for it.
The dropping sensation became real as Leon shove Piers down onto the cot that squeaked angrily at them for using it. Leon let out a broken noise into Piers’s mouth and his tongue plunged deep like he wanted to swallow Piers whole. Piers moaned and submitted, letting Leon ravage him however he wanted, trembling with the sensations as Leon expertly undid Piers’s vest, shoving his hands under scratchy BDU fabric to run his fingertips down Piers’s skin, searing him with his touch. “Oh fuck,” Piers gasped into Leon’s mouth as Leon’s hands moved up his chest, pressing into his chest, bruising him with demand.
“Is this okay?” Leon asked, digging in his fingertips like he wanted to take Piers apart with his bare hands. Leon groped and pinched and dragged his nails, spelling his obsession and stealing Piers’s breath, not even pulling away from the kiss to let Piers answer. “Punch me,” Leon insisted. “Hit me if you don’t want this.”
Piers finally got his head in the game and grabbed Leon by the jaw, meeting his ferocious kiss with his own passion. He arched up into Leon’s touch, moaning raggedly into his mouth. “Breathe,” Piers choked out, seeing stars, knowing he had to tell Leon, yet at the same time never wanting this to end. “I—”
Leon yanked himself from the kiss, bending like a bow as he reached into the bag on the floor, searching. Piers gulped the air back into his lungs for only a split second before undoing his vest completely, throwing it aside, tearing his shirt off from over his head next. Leon let out a sharp noise of triumph, coming back up with a half empty bottle of lube that Piers had seen Leon clean his gun with. The older man popped the cap and turned to Piers with a grin, and then—
“Oh fuck,” Leon burst out, sitting back on his haunches and staring at Piers. Piers grinned, leaning back on his elbows, knowing the pretty picture he made, flushed and eager, tanned from a decades outdoors under the sun and strong with a lifetime of labor, civilian and enlisted.
Piers flexed the muscles on his chest, watching Leon’s eyes darken, the man’s swollen lips parted gently like he was awestruck. “Like what you see?” he asked, voice raw. Leon’s gaze shot up from his chest to Piers’s eyes, and Piers’s breath caught in his throat.
“Have you done this before?” Leon asked.
Piers’s tongue swiped past his own lips before he nodded. “Once,” he confessed.
Leon nodded back. “Chris?”
“No,” Piers said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Keith Lumley.”
Leon stared at him. “The fucking kukri dude? The one who chose for his call name to be ‘Grinder’? The dude who was friends with that creep from IT? You fucked that guy?”
Piers raised a brow. “Keith fucked me— and are you really giving me shit on who I’ve fucked, Kennedy?”
Leon bent low again, kissing Piers hard. “Just thought you’d have better taste,” Leon teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips and making the kiss sloppy. He pushed Piers back into the cot again, running his hands down Piers’s bare chest, groaning. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been jealous of Redfield?” Leon growled into his throat. “He gets to just see you in showers, see you in the morning, see you every fucking day. I was so jealous I think almost hated him.”
“Should’ve said something,” Piers shot back, losing air again and loving the lightheaded feeling. “Oh god, Leon, lose the fucking shirt.”
Leon tore himself away and sat in Piers’s lap, grinning down at him as he began to slowly unbutton his top. He rolled his hips from side to side, grinding teasingly, barely sliding their clothed cocks together, the friction teasing. Piers’s hips jerked upwards and Leon was jostled, his fingers slipping from the buttons. The man laughed, bracing himself with a hand on Piers’s stomach, running his other hand through his hair. “Got a lotta energy, huh?” he asked, rubbing his thumb across Piers’s hip bone. “You want me that bad, baby?”
Piers moaned uselessly at the pet name and nodded up at Leon, biting his lower lip enticingly. “Want it,” he said, reaching up, holding Leon by the waist. “Give it to me, please.” He thrust up into Leon again, grinding his erection into the man. Leon groaned and yanked his shirt open without anymore teasing, taking one of Piers’s hands and bringing it to his bare chest, inciting Piers to touch. Piers lurched upwards with the invitation, sealing his mouth to one of Leon’s dusty pink nipples, sucking hard and sinking in his teeth. Leon yelped and tangled his fingers in Piers’s hair, tugging gently in admonishment. Piers grinned into the skin, lathing his tongue across the sore spot in apology, trailing his wets lips up Leon’s pec to his sharp collar bone and nipping along the shadows casted across Leon’s pale flesh.
He heard the lube uncap and reached down to his own BDU pants, fumbling for his zipper, thinking he knew where this was going. When Leon’s hands left Piers’s hair, however, Piers pulled away from Leon’s chest, wanting to ask what was wrong until he saw Leon gyrate his hips in small circles, inching his slacks down his sharp hips. Piers watched with anticipation as more of that delicious body was revealed. Leon pushed his pants down until they were snug beneath the curve of his ass, his long cock springing free, mouthwatering and swollen, weeping at the tip. Piers moaned throatily and dragged his teeth along Leon’s beating heart. “Want that in my mouth, Leon.”
“Later,” Leon said, his breath coming short. Piers frowned, looking up at Leon’s face, concerned he’d find fear or pain from an injury, but frowning deeper when he saw Leon’s cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, brow knit with concentration and pleasure. Then Piers looked down Leon’s body again and saw one of the man’s arms was twisted behind himself, working in sharp jerks, and the sound of slick finally breached Piers’s awareness. He had to take a moment as ecstasy coursed through him, his cock twitching in his pants. Piers reached around Leon and shut his eyes, faced pressed between Leon’s pecs as he snuck his hand underneath and between Leon’s legs, laying his hand palm atop Leon’s hand that was working himself open with two lube-drenched fingers.
Leon laughed breathlessly and spread the two fingers. Piers could feel Leon’s entire body shudder at the stretch. “Keith fucked you, right? Only man you’ve been with.” Leon buried his face in Piers’s hair, rocking back on his own fingers. “Then let me be the first man you’ve fucked— wanna ride you.”
“You’re gonna kill me,” Piers gasped into him. Leon laughed again and fucked himself faster, the lube squelching loudly with the thrusts. Piers sunk his teeth into Leon’s skin again, knowing he’d leave marks like the monsters they fought. He curled his hand around Leon’s, laying digit across digit, and then crept down with Leon’s hand, sliding two fingers inside. A shudder ran through Piers, his cock throbbing again as he felt how wet Leon was, tight like a vice and dripping. Leon curled his free hand in the short scruff at the back of Piers’s head, clinging to him as Piers’s added fingers stretched him wider. “You feeling good, Leon?”
“Piers,” Leon choked out, the name torn from his lungs. “Baby, baby, please, I-I’m ready.”
“I’m so fucking hard right now,” Piers bit out, using that hand that wasn’t inside Leon to grip the right cheek of Leon’s ass and pull him even wider open. Leon made the most awesome sound, a mix between a whimper and a cry, his erection pressing into Piers’s naked torso, smearing precum across Piers’s stomach. Piers let go of the round flesh and smacked it lightly, lifting his head to give Leon a smug look. Leon tugged at his hair again and it was Piers’s turn to shake Leon with his laugh. “Wanna get inside you,” Piers drawled, dragging his wide tongue across Leon’s left nipple. “Wanna see you above me, riding me like you’re made for it.”
“Pervert,” Leon gasped with no heat. Piers curled his fingers and Leon squeaked, eyes blowing wide as Piers touched something the older man had been avoiding. The desperation in Leon’s eyes was like fire and Piers mouthed another mark into Leon’s pale skin. Then, in retaliation, Piers crooked his fingers again and hooked into that bundle of nerves, pulling Leon forcefully into him like he was on a leash.
Leon tore his fingers out of himself, both hands coming up to wrap around Piers’s shoulders and hang on for everything he was worth as Piers tugged his fingers into that spot, his lips sealed around Leon’s nipple and his stomach held taught for Leon to grind into. Leon’s moan became an honest wail, trembling against Piers at the overwhelming and bruising stimulation, his thighs clenching around Piers’s forearm to keep him in place. Leon’s body clenched tighter and higher around Piers’s fingers, the sounds pitching higher the closer Leon got, and Piers was going to make this man fucking cum his brains out if it was the last—
“Stop, stop, stop!” Leon babbled, his voice raw from almost screaming. Piers sat back, pulling his fingers from Leon’s body, grinning smugly up at the gorgeous man in his lap. Leon’s chest was covered in a mixture of sweat and Piers’s spit, perspiration causing Leon’s blond hair to stick to his forehead. The man ran a hand through his hair, his lungs heaving for breath, expression wrecked beyond belief.
“You’re a menace,” Leon barely got out, his eyes glassy with pleasure. Piers just smirked and kissed his racing pulse point in his neck, reaching back down to grope Leon’s ass. The man moaned, loud and raw, like Piers had stripped away the last of his control. “Piers,” Leon almost whined. “Please— put it in me.”
Piers shut his eyes, needing a moment to collect himself. He heard and felt Leon snicker. “I haven’t even touched you and you’re about to cum your pants, huh?” Leon goaded.
Piers slapped his pert ass again, relishing the noise Leon made. “Smart words for a man begging for cock.”
“Smart for me,” Leon shot back. “You’re the fastest in the BSAA, right? I’d been hoping you’d leave that skill out of the bedroom. Unless you think you can make me cum first?”
Piers arched a brow up at Leon. “I’m sorry— who just begging me to stop fingering him like a girl cause he was about to blow his load before I even got my dick wet?”
Leon’s eyes darkened with desire. “Piers,” he almost whispered, brow twisting again. “Don’t make me beg.”
Piers moaned and squeezed Leon’s ass hard enough to bruise. “It’d be so fucking gorgeous, though.”
“Later,” Leon stressed, smiling as he pushed Piers back to kiss him. The slide of their lips sent electricity down Piers’s spine to his toes as Leon planted his ass in Piers’s lap again, grinding down into him. “I almost died,” Leon breathed into him. “We almost died. Don’t you wanna just feel good and forget? Even if only for a moment.” Leon kissed him deeper, delving his tongue into Piers’s mouth. “I wanna be with you.” Leon pulled back, just an inch between their lips, noses brushing, Leon’s blue eyes piercing into him. “You wanna be with me, baby?”
Piers fumbled blindly for the bottle of lube that was somewhere by his knees, unable to tear their gazes apart. “I can’t— help me get my dick out.”
Leon broke away from him, laughing bright and happy, reaching down to unzip Piers’s pants and draw his cock out. The laughter died into a hungry moan, Leon sitting back to line his cock up with Piers’s, pressing the shafts together, stroking once, twice, three times before Piers had to shove Leon’s hands away because he couldn’t hand the sight and stimulation. “I’m really gonna fucking cum if you keep doing that.”
“At least you made it out of your pants,” Leon teased. He was staring down at Piers’s cock, making Piers nervous. He wasn’t as big as Leon, he was marketably average, and he always felt like his head looked odd, but none of those insecurities lasted when Leon brought his long, nimble fingers down and grazed them along the vein underneath, his expression almost reverent. “Fuck,” Leon said, dancing his fingertips across the head, a spurt of precum welling beneath his fingerprints. “I— taking a page from your book, I want this in my mouth.”
Piers grinned shakily, fighting to keep his control. “Later.”
Leon surged down and kissed him again, snatching the lube from Piers and pouring a healthy amount into his own palms, rubbing them together to warm up the lube before grabbing Piers’s cock again and pulling at him with long, hard strokes, coating Piers with the slick. Piers gasped into Leon’s mouth, his hips hitching upwards into that grip without his permission. “God, Leon, you’ve fucking killed things with those hands,” Piers said, dumbstruck with the sudden realization of exactly who was in his lap, touching his cock. Leon fucking Kennedy, in the god damn flesh, lubing him up so Piers could get inside of him. What— How—
“How did this happen,” Piers murmured, staring up at Leon in awe. “How the actual fuck did this happen?”
Leon looked up at him, brow scrunched with dazed confusion. “… I-I took your dick out of your pants?”
Piers grinned so wide it hurt. Then Leon twisted his wrist and Piers hissed with the pleasure that shot through him, screwing his eyes shut for how close he suddenly was. “Leon, I’m gonna—”
The touch disappeared and Piers was left only momentarily disappointed as Leon squirmed back up Piers’s lap, wrapping an arm around Piers’s neck as he lifted himself on his knees, taking Piers’s cock again to line him up with Leon’s entrance. Piers groaned into Leon, taking Leon by the waist to hold him steady. They both pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together, staring into one another, breathing in time. Then Leon sunk down on Piers’s cock, taking him all the way inside with three smooth rolls of his hips, his eyes glazed over with bliss. And—
“Oh fuck,” Piers barely got out, digging his nails into Leon’s skin as he fought to keep still. “You— fuck, Leon, you’re so fucking tight.” He’d never been held like this, never been engulfed in such devastating heat and he’d never been with a man that he felt something so indefinable for. Piers stared up at Leon, mouth agape, holding his breath as Leon’s inner walls trembled around him with Leon’s own body. The older man whispered something Piers couldn’t make out and then rocked his hips. Piers cried out and Leon’s eyes slipped into the back of his head, lashes fluttering. He was fucking gorgeous and Piers tilted his head to the side, smothering his sounds of euphoria with Leon’s tongue. “Hold on,” Piers told Leon, smiling as Leon’s eyes landed on him again. “Hold on to me, Leon.”
Leon’s hands fumble to get a grip on Piers’s shoulders and Piers leans back on the cot, bracing himself up with one elbow, holding Leon in place by the hip with the other, planting his feet and thrusting up. Leon babbled something senseless and swayed forward, catching himself on Piers’s stomach now. Piers waited only a second, let Leon regain his footing, before thrusting again, jostling Leon up into the air. At Leon’s cry, Piers grinned wide, rubbing small circles into Leon’s hips. “Being a sniper pays off,” he said, panting a little. Leon felt like a fucking vice around him and Piers knew was wasn’t gonna last. “Gotta crawl around everywhere— I can probably throw you off this bed like this.”
Leon bent forward, dragging in air and reaching down between their bodies, bypassing his cock and instead running his fingers along his stretched hole, feeling where Piers was splitting him open. His slacks still taught around his thighs kept Leon from spreading his legs wider, but Piers could see the muscles straining against the fabric regardless, Leon’s body desperate for more. Then Leon ground down onto Piers’s cock and begged, “Please— fuck me!”
Piers couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to. He clenched his jaw and set a bruising pace, fucking up into Leon hard enough for the slap of their skin to be louder than the moans escaping them. It took all of Piers’s will and concentration not to just spill inside the man when Leon arched back, bouncing in Piers’s lap, pulling at his hair with a trembling hand and chanting Piers’s name over and over and over, the word itself nearly losing meaning as Leon stuttered through it, the thrusts rattling his voice. And then Leon went utterly silent as Piers hit that spot again, dead on the mark. Leon’s mouth was open in a silent cry and Piers rammed his prostate over and over, losing count, just focused on Leon and making him feel as amazing as he deserved.
Leon suddenly got his voice back, a gulp of air matching the way his body spasmed around Piers’s cock, Leon gasping Piers’s name one last time before he careened over the edge, cumming up his chest in stripes, staining that button up white against the red.
Leon wavered in Piers’s lap, pitching forward, so Piers lurched forward to sit up, getting both his arms around Leon’s ribs, the man limp in his arms. “So good,” Piers fumbled to confess, his own voice raw. “You’re taking me so good, Leon, oh god.” He couldn’t stop the pace he’d set, still fucking Leon up into his chest. He was close, he was so fucking close, Leon’s body felt unlike anything he’d ever experienced, beyond description and perfect. “I’m gonna cum,” Piers blurted out, his own vision going white at the edges. “Oh god, Leon I’m gonna fucking cum!”
Leon came sluggishly back to life in his arms, turning his head, trailing his wet mouth along the line of Piers’s pulse. He got to Piers’s ear, hot breath ghosting along Piers’s skin as Leon said, “Cum in me— fill me up. I want you, Piers.” Nails dug into Piers’s back, dragging down, long and deliberate. Leon growled. “Cum inside me and make me yours.”
Piers’s hips snapped up and he came hard, the air seizing in his throat as he was bombarded with wave after wave of euphoria. Leon held him tight as Piers was ravaged by his orgasm, whispering Leon’s naming like he was dying from how amazing it felt. At the end of it, he was left feeling exhausted and ragged and empty and so fucking good that he couldn’t do anything but sink into Leon’s chest and breathe the man in. Leon was coming back to himself as well, languidly running his fingers through Piers’s hair and rocking back and forth in Piers’s lap. His cock was still inside Leon and he could feel the mess he’d left. Piers kissed Leon’s shoulder and grinned stupidly. “Definitely gonna remember this next time I gotta jack off.”
Leon sputtered out a laugh and Piers wanted to throw his fist in the air in success for making Leon laugh at all. Leon’s voice was low, a deep baritone and fucked out. “Should I expect top tier pillow talk like that from you always or is our first time just that special?”
Something like joy raced through Piers to realize that it was more than just heat of the moment intentions— Leon really wanted this to happen again. “I think it’s that you’re just special,” he replied, pressing more sloppy kisses to Leon’s skin. “Also, please tell me you took a shower before I got my mouth all on you. This would be the worst way to get infected.”
“I got sprayed down by quarantine,” Leon said. “I’m lucky my skin didn’t get stripped off.” Leon sat back, taking Piers’s face in both of his hands so Piers would stop trying to kiss every inch of him. “You tried to ask me on a date. Did you mean it?”
“Absolutely,” Piers said without hesitation. “Truthfully, I had planned to wine and dine you before I made you mine. You blew way past those steps with sonic speed, it’s fucking ridiculous.”
Leon grinned. “What can I say?” he asked, bending low and grazing their lips. “I’m efficient.”
“You’re deadly,” Piers said into him, heart racing with the intimacy of this kiss after what they’d done. “You’re incredible, Leon.”
Leon hummed idly and then pulled back, stretching his spine, looking down and tugging at his shirt that was well beyond ruined. “Zombie guts,” Leon huffed. “Sweat, blood, and cum. I can’t let anyone see me in this.”
“Uh, no one better see you out of it,” Piers warned.
Leon opened his mouth to argue or say something smart, but the sudden harsh static of the HAM radio and a distantly familiar female voice encroaching on their space had Leon surging off Piers’s cock, out of his lap, smoothly bringing up his pants and grabbing the hand radio, answering with his name.
“I’m still waiting for you by the docks, Leon.”
“I’ll be there, Helena,” Leon promised, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked over to Piers on the cot, watching Piers fumble to get his clothes back on correctly as well. Leon tugged at his lower lip with his teeth, eyes raking over Piers’s body, making the younger man blush but feel pretty damn good about hisself in general. “Five minutes,” Leon asked of the woman on the other line. “Then we’re going.”
As he set aside the radio, Piers pulled on a grim smile. “Duty calls?”
“My work is a jealous mistress,” Leon drawled as he moved to Piers, taking him by the front of the shirt that was back on Piers’s person, kissing him sweetly. “I like Greek.”
It took Piers a moment to understand why Leon was telling him this, but once he got it, he beamed. “I’ll find a place,” he promised. “Ottawa has just about everything you can imagine, including a terrifying giant spider sculpture. I’ll find you some decent Greek.”
“You spoil me.”
“I intend to.”
Leon smiled almost shyly. “One more.” He leaned in for what was going to be their last kiss for a while, but it didn’t make Piers’s chest ache. It only left him feeling hopeful and excited for when they’d get to do it again. “Give Chris my best. Take care of yourself, Piers.”
“You better do the same,” Piers warned as he watched Leon grab his gun and do up his buckle. “But, uh—” Piers looked around, searching for something for Leon to wear. He huffed when there was nothing else in this tent, settling with grabbing his bulletproof vest and throwing it at Leon’s chest. “Unless you plan on going shirtless.”
Leon was bewildered until he looked down his shirt and remember the cumstains. Then he looked back up at Piers, his grin become lascivious. “Oh, the things you do to me, Piers,” he said before turning for the tent exit. “See you for our date, baby,” Leon said, giving him a wink over his shoulder and then heading out. The tent flap fell behind Leon, cutting him from Piers’s worldview. Piers stood there in the tent, stunned disbelief sinking into his bones.
“Holy shit,” Piers said to himself. “I just fucked Leon S. Kennedy.” He paused, the fact settling in his thoughts. He smirked. “I can’t wait to tell the Captain.”