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The first thing Leon registers is the splitting headache. He blinks his eyes open, trying to focus, and at the same time trying to take stock of his surroundings and figure out what the hell happened. The last thing he remembers is eavesdropping on Grace and this Zeno guy that he really hasn’t been able to figure out yet. Then everything goes black, a gap in his memory no matter how much he tries to focus. He feels unfocused, hazy in the brain, but he doesn’t understand why.
He’s still in the same room, but his arms are stretched above his head, his wrists aching from how tight the handcuffs are around them and with how his bodyweight rests on them. Now that he’s conscious he manages to get his toes on the ground and alleviate the pressure, but he’s strung up just high enough that he can’t really stand properly. He sways slightly, his head still refusing to cooperate, but he somehow manages to stay upright.
The movement must alert whoever’s in the room with him, as the next thing he hears the scrape of a chair moving on the floor. He holds his breath for a beat, unsure what the best case scenario could be in this situation. If it was Grace, she surely wouldn’t have just left him dangling there, right?
A hand presses into the small of Leon’s back, slowly sliding over his waist, around to his abdomen. The touch makes a shiver go down his spine, and he inhales as slowly and deeply as he subtly can to keep himself from freaking out. Unfortunately it’s not the first time the BOW peddling creeps like to get their hands on him, and he wishes he wasn’t as familiar with it as he is. His head spins, and it’s hard to focus.
Yet as Leon sees the leather gloves, he knows then who it is behind him. “Don’t you have a world to conquer?” he rasps out. “Or whatever it is you people do.”
“Very funny, Leon,” Zeno says, in his infuriatingly soft tone. He splays his fingers wide, inching his palm downwards, and at the same time presses himself closer against Leon’s back. There’s nowhere for Leon to go, either he’d have to buck forward into the hand so casually groping him, or back against the man’s solid body, and he does not want either of the options. He flexes his hands, testing the give of the handcuffs, but there’s no way he’ll be able to get out of them like this. He’d need something to pick the lock, but he’s got nothing. He sways in his place, hating how it’s a sign of weakness he can’t conceal.
“Admittedly, I was going to just leave you hanging,” Zeno monologues on, his hand brushing against Leon’s crotch over his clothes, before he unceremoniously cups Leon’s cock in his palm, giving him a squeeze. Leon feels his body begin to react, no matter how much he tries to will it down. “You’re out of my way now, unable to mess with my plans. Leaving you here, where it all started, feels kind of poetic, doesn’t it?” He hums, easily undoing Leon’s belt with his other hand. “But working with absolute fucking morons is more tiring than I remembered. I do need some stress relief.”
The zipper goes down, and as Zeno hooks his fingers in the waistband of Leon’s pants, Leon moves. He doesn’t get as much leverage as he’d need, and his attempt to free himself from the hold fails miserably before he even really manages to try. Laughably easily Zeno has him pinned back against his chest, his lips against Leon’s ear so he can feel him smirk. “Remember, I’ve got the girl. It’s either her or you.”
That is exactly the right string to pull, and Leon sags. There’s no way he’ll be responsible for Grace being put through this instead of him. Besides he’s so tired, he’s so dizzy, there’s …it’s better to just get this over with, right? Right.
Clearly Zeno knew how to play Leon, and he laughs low in his throat, “Thought so.”
Leon’s pants are peeled down to his knees, and before he really has the chance to react any other way, there’s a gloved finger pressing between his cheeks, rubbing against his rim. It’s slick, and Leon doesn’t know with what, but it’s not like it matters much anyway. At least he’s not going to get fucked raw and torn apart, then. Small blessings.
The friction of the leather glove and the smooth glide provided by the lube are in contrast with each other, and Leon squirms in his place as he doesn’t really know how to handle it. His body gives in easily, forcing him to focus on deep breaths because he doesn’t want to give Zeno the satisfaction of showing how easily he’s gaining these reactions. In-out-in-out, but then he realizes he’s counting his breaths in the same rhythm as those fingers are pumping in and out of him, and he curses under his breath.
“You should be honored,” Zeno says as he pulls his hand back, gripping Leon’s hips tight. “Not just anyone gets a piece of this.”
Then he uses his grip to hold Leon still, pushing inside. The glide of it is easy enough and Leon holds his breath, tries to will his own body to calm down. His cock fills, bobbing heavily between his thighs, and no amount of breathing exercises is going to help him will it down. Zeno takes his time, pulling back leisurely before pushing in again, each single thrust brushing over Leon’s prostate in a way that makes his already spinning head spin even harder.
“Admit it,” Zeno croons, “this is the highlight of your sad little life.”
Even with his cock achingly hard, his head spinning, his entire body burning with the sensations, Leon would scoff if he could. He bites back a moan at the next deep thrust, swallowing hard, and he’s distantly proud of how steady his voice sounds as he speaks. “Are you about to get started?” he asks, “‘cause I don’t feel a thing.”
The answer is a low growl, and a snap of Zeno’s hips that makes Leon grunt, and then the man is laughing into Leon’s ear. “Keep trying to deflect with humor,” he says, amusement clear in his voice, “it’s all you’ve got. You’re useless. A warm hole to fuck, and it’s the biggest achievement of your life.” He snaps his hips forward again and this time Leon can’t hold back the moan, as much as he hates himself for it. Zeno laughs, nipping at Leon’s ear with his teeth. “You can’t save anyone, Leon. You never could.”
It hits right where it’s supposed to, into the most sore spot possible, into the biggest fear Leon has. His mind already flits towards Manuela, Ashley, Sherry… and whoever else is on the depressingly short list of people he's been able to help that he rotates in his mind whenever the crushing weight of failure feels overwhelming. The ring in his pocket—he forcibly makes himself shut that door. Feels wrong to think about them when he's spread open on Zeno’s cock, even if it is unwillingly.
Rationally, Leon knows it’s not true. He has made a difference. Yet when he stays awake at night all he can think of is all those people he couldn’t help, couldn’t save. The times he couldn’t change things for the better.
“This is fun,” Zeno purrs, right into Leon’s ear, and the next thing Leon knows is that there’s a hand clamped around his throat, squeezing as his head is tilted backwards. He gasps, or tries to, his lungs burning as he wheezes for air. He’s been strangely unfocused throughout, his thoughts slippery and unformed, but this makes his head spin and spin and spin, as his cock throbs with how fucking hard he is. Zeno keeps fucking him as if he’s just a toy to be used, like he really is nothing but a warm hole to be fucked.
Then the hand is gone and Leon draws in a breath. His orgasm slams through him with so much force he sees stars, almost blacking out with it. No longer can he even try to pretend he’s unaffected, his body tightening and a low whine pushing its way out of him, as he cums hard. There are hands on his hips, fingers digging into the flesh, leaving bruises behind, as Zeno takes this opportunity to really unleash himself.
Eventually Leon feels hot cum spurting inside of him, and all he can do is sag forward, his wrists aching with how chafed they are from the abuse.
Zeno pulls back, making a sound as if he just tasted something nice, as if he’s appreciating a fine meal. He pats Leon’s bare ass, his grin audible in his voice as he drops a condescending “Good job, Agent Kennedy.”
Leon is still catching his breath, chest heaving, shoes slipping on the floor as he tries to keep his balance. The other man rounds him until they’re face to face, already impeccably dressed, and if it wasn’t for the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks it would be impossible to tell he’d been up to anything at all just minutes ago. He wipes his leather glove clean with a tissue, before tossing the wadded up paper in Leon’s general direction. “You know, Leon,” he says conversationally, “I almost want to keep you. You’d make a nice pet.”
There’s no time for Leon to really react with anything but a face of disgust. Then Zeno shakes his head, clearly amused, his smile nothing short of mocking. “Unfortunately for me, you’ve got a date with an old friend.”
“What?” Leon asks.
His answer is a deafening sound as half of the ceiling caves in. Handily, it releases himself from wherever he was hooked up to the ceiling, but at the same time it doesn’t mean his wrists aren’t still cuffed together. He falls down on his knees, blinking and shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, and as he looks up the hulking figure in front of him is one of the last things he would’ve wanted to see right now.
Behind the Tyrant, Zeno grins at Leon. “Have fun.”
Leon tries his best to get up and onto his feet, but he has no such success. The Tyrant grabs his throat, lifting him up laughably easily as if he’s a mere ragdoll. “I remember you,” Leon wheezes, trying his best to kick at the Tyrant’s sturdy frame.
The BOW shifts its grip, one massive hand at Leon’s waist, another grabbing his thigh so hard he’s going to have the mother of all bruises there after. It lifts him up, yanks him against its wide chest, and all Leon manages is to throw his arms around the Tyrant’s neck. He thinks he could use the handcuffs to choke the BOW to get free, maybe, but instead he ends up clinging to the wide shoulders as he’s manhandled into position.
The Tyrant is much more well endowed than Zeno was, and when it positions its cock against Leon’s already slick rim, Leon lets out a pitiful whine. He doesn’t want it, but he’s given no choice about the matter. The Tyrant slides him down its massive cock, until Leon feels like he’s splitting on it, until he could swear he feels it all the way in his throat. His limbs go loose, a garbled sound escaping him as his eyes roll back in his head. He’s filled so fucking intensely, stretched to his limits, and there’s no way he can fight back. His arms are around the Tyrant’s neck, still cuffed at the wrists, his legs trapped in his pants so that he’s effectively bent in half, his knees to his chest, as he’s impaled on the rock hard Tyrant cock as thick as his wrist.
“I—” Leon stammers. “I remember that, too.”
Apparently the BOW is pleased with the current situation as it lets Leon adjust to the intrusion for a surprisingly long time, just grunting low as its cock throbs inside Leon, rubbing against his prostate so fucking deliciously even though he isn’t even moving an inch. Leon is squirming in his place, unable to even properly breathe, only a mindless flow of “Ha ah haa,” spilling from his lips. He’s burning up from the inside, his every single nerve ending like a live wire, and he’s hard again already although he’s barely been impaled on the monstrously big dick.
Leon half expects for the Tyrant to tease him, too, to mock him for how easy he is, to tell him he can’t save anyone and how he can’t even do his damn job right. Instead it grunts, its massive hands tightening on Leon’s hips, and it begins to move. Not its hips, it begins to move Leon, using him like a fleshlight as it tugs him up and down its giant shaft. It’s already on the third of the deep thrusts that Leon’s eyes roll back in his head, his toes curling as another orgasm rolls through him, assaulting his oversensitive mind. He’s limp, completely helpless, a toy for the Tyrant to use, and he cums so hard it paints the Tyrant’s stupid trenchcoat in white.
“S’nough,” Leon slurs, head hanging back, mouth open and eyes staring ahead unseeing. He can’t even hold onto the Tyrant for support, but the handcuffs help, hooked behind the BOW’s neck so Leon just hangs off him helplessly, like a marionette with its strings cut. He truly doesn’t think he can take any more, but it’s not like the BOW cares. It’s just getting started.
It’s like a fever dream. Every single thrust rearranges his guts in a way Leon can’t handle, his senses assaulted from every direction. It’s too much, way too much, and yet at the same time it’s not even nearly enough. Every time the Tyrant pulls back Leon is left gaping and empty, his hole clenching around nothing, a steady stream of needy noises spilling from his lips.
And then the Tyrant pushes in again, every time, without fail. Leon could sob—does sob—with how good it feels, with how he’s claimed so thoroughly. He wishes his hands weren’t cuffed so he could bring one to his belly, to feel the Tyrant’s massive cock inside of him from that direction, too, to touch the bulging of his stomach at each upstroke. He’s mindless with need, drool running down his chin, tears spilling from his eyes, as he stares ahead without really even seeing anything.
Then the Tyrant cums. It slams inside so deep Leon screams, his consciousness whiting out for a good while. He comes to when he feels the copious amounts of cum spilling out of him, leaking down his thighs, and yet the Tyrant is still pumping more and more of it inside of him. Leon’s cock twitches, hard against his belly, and he whines as he really really needs someone to touch him. He needs a helping hand, and he would shamelessly jerk himself off right now if he had a hand free. Instead he just has to wait, has to hang in that liminal space of almost but yet not enough.
Leon expects the Tyrant to be done with him, to discard him and wander off, or to just crush his head and end him. Yet it doesn’t do either of those things. Instead it moves, those heavy footsteps crossing the room until it can press Leon against the nearest wall that hasn’t collapsed. Leon blinks his eyes open, looks straight at the Tyrant, into its blank and emotionless eyes.
Leon might’ve imagined it. He’s fairly sure he has. Yet for a split second there he thinks the corner of the Tyrant’s mouth twitches up into some approximation of a smile.
“Y-you like me, d-don’t you?” Leon somehow manages to stammer out. He is rewarded by the Tyrant pulling back until only the tip of its gargantuan cock remains inside, then pushing right back in and this time it’s slow, it’s teasing, it’s clearly meant to draw things out. Leon laughs breathlessly, refusing to believe this is what his life has turned into. “Ye-yeah? Think you could let me live, big guy?” It’s worth a try. “You can have what you need. Just. No head crushing, okay? No dismembering.”
He could swear something flickers in the Tyrant’s eyes. There’s no way to be sure, though.
Then the Tyrant leans in, pressing its face into Leon’s neck. Its skin is icy cold against Leon’s overheated skin, and Leon shivers helplessly, feeling like his own skin is two sizes too small for him. His cock is already hard again, straining against his stomach, and he’s beginning to think he’d been slipped something while unconscious. Yet there’s nothing to do to change the current situation, not when he’s impaled on Tyrant cock and pressed against the wall, helpless but to take what he’s given.
Slowly, the Tyrant pulls back again, and begins to rock its hips forward. It’s like the second round is the one to savor everything for it, as it’s not as heedless as the first one, not as frantic and rough. It’s almost being gentle, if you can call it that, holding Leon between its hulking body and the wall as if he’s something worth sheltering.
What a goddamn mindful, Leon thinks frantically, his overwhelmed brain barely keeping up. The next thrust drags against his prostate so deliciously his toes curl, stars dancing in his vision, and he lets his head drop back against the wall behind himself. Fucking hell.
It takes forever, the Tyrant fucking him at such a leisurely pace, taking its time and spending as long as it wants on the second round. Leon cums twice, his spent cock twitching against his cumstained stomach, his thighs cramping and his arms trembling where they’re still wrapped around his assailant. He can’t handle more, yet he’s given no other choice, as the Tyrant keeps pumping its cock in and out of him as if this is where it wants to stay forever.
When Leon feels another load of cum flood inside of him, leaking out of him as the Tyrant still keeps fucking him, he thinks they’re finally done. He tries to breathe, tries to force his brain back online, but all he can do is wheeze with his laborious breaths, his limbs like jelly, his mind offline so damn hard there’s no way he can make it work again.
There’s no respite. The Tyrant moves again, this time spinning around so it can press Leon down on a desk, fold him in half against it as it picks up a steady pace again.
Leon is drooling, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he can barely breathe. He blinks but sees nothing, staring into the void as all he can focus on is the cock inside of him, the strong hands at his waist, the way he’s being fucked within an inch of his life. “Pl-please,” he begs, voice hoarse, his fingers curling into the collar of the trench coat for something to hold on to. “Please.”
The Tyrant pauses, hovering above Leon, with its cock pressing against Leon’s abused and stretched out rim that’s leaking cum nonstop, making a puddle on the floor. It tilts its head, as if it’s waiting, rubs its hard cock against Leon’s ass. It slips into Leon’s crack, and Leon arches his back as that is not where he needs it. He whines, tugging on the Tyrant’s coat, kicking out as best as he can with his legs trapped between them.
The Tyrant grunts, moving its hands to Leon’s pants so it can tug on them, and it rips them apart in one smooth motion.
Immediately Leon wraps his long legs around the BOW’s hips, trying to urge it closer. “Please,” he begs, “please please please.” He can’t focus his eyes, can’t make his body obey, but he’s pawing at the Tyrant either way in his desperate attempts to get it to fuck him again.
Finally, the Tyrant gives him what he’s begging for. It slams its cock inside Leon, and Leon screams with pleasure.
There’s no greater joy than to submit to this, is there, his fogged up mind tells him. There’s nothing else. Joyfully submit, let this be your fate. Let this be it. Let this—
Leon passes out, with the Tyrant’s cock still lodged as deep inside of him as it can go.