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The entire fundraiser had been Chris’s idea. And, really, fuck Chris.
It was supposed to “improve relations” and “be good for you guys” and “really it’s for public good, isn’t it?”
Leon watched with growing horror as Carlos Oliveira was purchased for 1,527 dollars by Jill Valentine. He bobbed merrily to her table, the glimmering chandeliers reflecting off of his grin.
Well, she hadn’t bought bought him. Just purchased him for the night. Arm candy, bragging rights, charity.
The dark-haired Umbrella scientist she’d outbid frowned into her glass of champagne.
The dining hall was so large that Leon wasn’t sure why he felt like he was suffocating, just completely sure that he was. If he didn’t get fresh air, the only thing for sale would be his dead body. “Jesus.”
An arm caught his as he made for the back exit, the grip tight as iron and just as unrelenting.
Leon turned to look up into the stoic face of Chris Redfield, one of his eyebrows arched. “Where are you going?”
“Get some air.” He jerked his arm out of the hold, shaking his head. His bangs—which Ashley had so carefully styled just two hours before—fell around his face haphazardly.
Chris frowned at him, then at his bangs, then at his dress shirt. “Where’s your jacket? You’ll freeze.”
Leon just shook his head again.
With a soft, disgruntled sigh, Chris turned away again. He wouldn’t be auctioned, which Leon considered an injustice. “Don’t take too long. Half the fucking room’s been eyeing you.”
Yeah. He’d noticed.
The cool air hitting his skin was just the drug he’d needed, and he took in heaving breaths of it. There was practically no light there, tucked in the alleyway between the newly-reformed (and under new management) Umbrella building and its dilapidated neighbor. The orange halo of the street-light failed to penetrate the absolute dark. At least the oxygen there wasn’t laced with perfume and cologne and body cream and deodorant and everything so thick and heady it made him want to die.
He leaned against the side of the building, tipping his head back to stare up at what little sliver of the sky was visible.
“I do hope I’m not interrupting.”
Leon startled, hand flying to his waist where his gun had been hidden tastefully beneath his jacket (a jacket he’d thrown at Claire a while ago, and only God and her knew what she’d done with it). With just his dress-shirt and his ever-present harness, the pistol and his sheathed knife were on full display for all the upper-class party-goers to gawk at.
He could hardly see the man through the shadows—they seemed to cling to his edges, draped around him like a well-worn cloak.
“I should be the one saying that,” he said, still guarded as he tried to pick out any detail at all.
As if sensing his dilemma, the man stepped more into the light. The red-hot tip of his cigarette glowed like a spotlight through the dark. “No, no. Just having a smoke.”
Leon’s nose wrinkled. He couldn’t have been smoking long; the smell only registered when he took another step closer. “Those things’ll kill you.”
Another step, and he was fully in view. He was . . . handsome. Very particularly handsome—handsome in a way Leon hadn’t seen before. His hair was soft and perfectly curled away from his face, his scruff was tastefully clipped, shading his sharp jaw so perfectly. He was more like a marble statue than a man.
Not even to mention his suit. Leon knew less than nothing about fashion (Ada loved to say that he looked like he’d picked out his clothes from the GAP during a blackout), but he had eyes. The crimson dress-shirt and black vest were so different from the black-tie-standard suits every other man wore. The slacks accentuated his long, long legs, every inch of fabric clinging to him. Chains dripped from his throat and ears, too; bands of gold and silver and glimmering sapphire adorning his fingers. He practically glinted in the shadow.
“Lots of things will kill you if you let them.”
It took Leon a good long moment to remember what they’d been talking about. He could only frown, eyeing the man up and down a second time, more analytical and less—ahem— biased. His nice clothes and nice jewelry suggested wealth. Leon had never seen him before, so probably not affiliated with the RPD. He didn’t have the asocial discomfort or the awkward mannerisms of every scientist Leon had met so far, so probably not an Umbrella employee. Some high-end rich guy with connections, then. Fine.
“Anything could kill you if you let it,” Leon corrected sharply.
“Not me.” He tapped ash off of his cigarette with a shapely nail. “Some of us are just too pretty to die, eh?” He held out his free hand for Leon. “Luis Serra Navarro.”
Leon was duly envious of how fluid and graceful his movements were, shifting like a shadow through the space. “Leon,” he offered. Luis’s rings bit into his palm, but his hands were fucking soft. Definitely not a cop then.
Leon was still leaning against the building and Chris was right, it was cold, but just about then he’d rather freeze to death in an alley than go back into the wolf’s den that was the ballroom.
Luis shifted just a half-inch closer. “¿Y qué haces al sol a estas horas? Te vas a derretir bombón.”
Leon’s minimal knowledge of Spanish covered only a few of Luis’s words, and none of them made sense to him in that moment. “What? Chocolate? What? Sun? It’s, like, two degrees. What?”
His eyebrow arched, a smile dancing just behind his eyes. “¿No hablas español?”
Amusement and irritation warred inside of him. “Not a word.”
The corner of his lip tugged up and he took another step. “How unfortunate. And the reason you’re out here and not in there?”
Leon could smell the sharp, earthy bite of his cigarette, could see the curls of smoke drifting lazily into the air. He tilted his head back. “It’s . . . loud. In there.”
“Ah. I know what you mean. Like a horde of peacocks, them. So vain. So convinced of their superiority.”
His eyebrow quirked up before he could stop it, his incredulity palpable. “And thank god you’re not like that, right?”
Luis was actually smiling now—a full thing, the bare glimpse of his perfect teeth showing between his curved lips. “I’ll admit I have my moments.” Tipping his hip out a bit and tilting his head down, he eyed Leon with a simpering smile. “Come on, though. For me it’s justified, right?”
Leon eyed him up and down again. He swallowed.
“I’ll take that as confirmation, cariño.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for several seconds before sighing it back out, his hazy eyes fixed on Leon. Leon had seen that look before in his old family dogs—big dogs. Violent. They weren’t raised right; chased anything small that moved, be it rats or birds or toddlers. Voracious, amused. Starving for a good chase, for a mouthful of something warm that might fight back.
Leon felt a chill shoot down his spine and hoped Luis would chalk it up to the biting cold.
Luis took another step forward. It should’ve been fine, should’ve been acceptable. Just two men holding a conversation, interested in whatever was on the table. But it was not fine, was not acceptable. Not in a darkened alley, not with Luis’s mirthful eyes watching every twitch of his muscles.
Not with Luis’s cigarette still glowing when he brought it to his lips.
Not with Luis’s slow breath of smoke, fanning over Leon’s face, like a physical sensation where it brushed against his exposed skin.
Not with Luis’s words, low and sultry and sinful, “Did you want a light, perrito?”
Leon crossed his arms, relaxing further into the wall as he inclined his head. “Presumptuous, aren’t you? And what if I said no?”
He seemed to curl around Leon, his viscous shadow crowding him against the wall. Everything was tinged with heady tobacco and, buried nearly completely under that, the soft smell of something clinically clean, like rubbing alcohol or iodine.
“Then I’d have to wrack my mind for a way to convince you, I suppose. Though I’ve been told I’m not very good at begging.”
The idea of Luis begging was not helping his current situation. He felt like he was overheating, microwaving slowly in his own skin. “Convince me to have a smoke?”
“Convince you to keep me company.”
His eyes slid away in feigned disinterest, studying the faraway asphalt of the road, the distant line of trees. “Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”
Luis laughed under his breath. “Ah, vale. so you’re doing it on purpose, then.”
That drew his attention back, and Luis was closer than he had been before. Each of his smoke-tinged breaths brushed against Leon’s cheek, the cloud of mist visible in the cold. “Doing what?”
“Being a tease.” A hand landed on Leon’s hip. It made him jump but he didn’t move away from it, even as it made deft work of untucking his shirt from his slacks and searching for skin. “Joder. Ever since you stepped into the building.”
Leon . . . didn’t know how he felt about that. That this man had been watching him, and had now gotten him alone in a back-alley, close enough to grab his gun and shoot him with it, drive away faster than anyone could scream fire. “Hm. Is stalking a common pastime of yours, or . . . ?”
Luis scoffed a surprised laugh, the sound of it husky and low, a far-cry from the gentle tittering of the wannabe-nobility in the ballroom. “Stalking, he says! Please, dulzura, everybody noticed you.”
His fingers finally found Leon’s skin, and he couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him. Luis’s hands were frigid, the metal of his rings glacial where it met his flesh.
He arched his back without even realizing it, and couldn’t even be embarrassed about it when it drew a low hum from Luis.
“Don’t say you didn’t notice, handsome,” he murmured, his cigarette dropping to the ground forgotten as his head dipped. Teeth met Leon’s throat instantly and he cussed, hands flying up to fist in the ironed fabric of the back of Luis’s vest.
A particularly harsh bite drew a gasp from him, and Luis drew the tip of his tongue over the divots of the teeth-marks in apology, burning and freezing in equal measure as the arctic air whispered over the lines of moisture he left in his wake.
“You can’t walk in like you did and expect it to go unnoticed.” His hand pressed flat against Leon’s ribcage, his long, slender fingers digging into the soft flesh and hard muscle.
“Walk in like what?” Leon huffed, trying for an annoyed tone and missing the mark by several hundred miles. He couldn’t help the way he tilted his head back, how each breathy sound left his mouth. The thought of ruining his slacks, as well as the equally horrid thought of having to go back into the ballroom, left his mind as soon as Luis’s mouth met his.
Leon moaned softly and Luis wanted no time sliding in his tongue, dragging it against the points of his teeth like debating whether to not to draw blood.
Leon wished he would. The bite of pain would tie everything together. Ruby blood sliding down a throat, blue-black bruises like wine-stains on skin.
He felt Luis’s hand finally slip into his hair and he would've been embarrassed about the immediate excitement that flooded his veins if he had any brain-power left.
Then— god, he knew exactly what Leon needed—he fisted his hair in the soft strands and pulled.
Leon whimpered, his mouth falling away from Luis’s to gape mindlessly. Pleasure washed over his scalp and down his shoulders and, as much as he hated to admit it, if Luis kept it up, he might need a new pair of pants sooner than he thought.
“So receptive,” he purred, tugging again gently.
“I— fuck, Luis—if you keep fucking doing that, I’m not gonna—” He broke off into a moan when Luis pulled again, hard enough now that intoxicating pain was beginning to prickle at his nerve-endings, cascading down his spine and making him shiver.
“So quick? Have you no patience, nene?”
The hand under his shirt progressed further, scraping a teasing nail over his nipple as the grip in his hair tightened. It had his eyes rolling back into his skull, unable to silence his noises.
The door opened with a crash and Luis was off of him in an instant, smoothing down the front of his vest. A smile was already affixed on his face as if they’d been simply chatting about the weather.
Leon, however, was not quite so good. The cold air made his burning face even more stark, his disarrayed hair flying in all different directions, one side of his shirt still untucked. “Uh . . . ”
Chris Redfield gave him the most disparaging look he’d seen to date—and he’d seen many. “For god’s sake, Kennedy, do I need to leash you?”
Luis’s amused chuckle made Leon’s face flare even hotter and he scowled, head ducked as he hurriedly tucked his shirt back in. “Keep your dick in your pants, Redfield, I’ll be right there.”
He tapped his watch meaningfully, voice dark as he said, “Two. Minutes.”
The door slammed with as much of a crash as it had opened, and once more there was just the two of them.
“I suppose it’s selfish of me,” Luis said, hands tucked behind his back. “To hoard all of your time, I mean.”
Leon carded his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it back into place at least for a little while. At least the cold and the Chris Redfield had been enough for his growing hard-on to flag. “Better you than one of those piece of shit Umbrella scientists.”
He saw Luis’s expression shift from the corner of his eye, but by the time he turned, it was normal again. Cordial and friendly as when Leon had first stepped out.
“Still. Cruel of me to keep you from your suitors.”
Leon looked at him again, pausing briefly at the new tone. A glance at his watch was enough to sidetrack him, though, and he was already power-walking to the door by the time Luis called out, “See you in there, cowboy?”
Leon didn’t have the time to spare, but he shot a look over his shoulder, his lips twitching grudgingly into a smile. “I’m counting on it. For—emotional support.”
“Of course.”
Leon was already through the door, jogging to the grand hall and only slowing when he caught up to Chris lingering on the edges near the raised podium where an officer Leon had met but couldn’t name was being auctioned. She was finally shunted off for an admirably high price, her smile charming and bulletproof.
“Finally,” Chris grunted, eyes glued to the stage. “I didn’t want to miss this.”
“Miss what—oh, god, don’t fucking tell me you’re going to bid on Ethan Winters.”
His scowl communicated both his irritation and embarrassment in such a way that Leon wouldn’t have otherwise commented further—they’d both be silently judging him.
But when it came to Ethan Winters. . . .
“You’re not serious. That man’s not worth an overcooked cheeseburger.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Kennedy,” he snapped, looking deliberately anywhere but at Leon.
“He’s not even a cop!”
“He’s doing this to help us.” Finally he glared over at Leon, though just for a second before his gaze drifted back to Winters. Pathetic.
“No one wants to watch you eye-fuck your unrequited puppy-crush in the middle of a party, man. People are trying to eat.”
“No one wants to see you wall-fuck a Spaniard either, but here we are.” He eyed Leon again critically. “And go find your jacket.” And he disappeared into the crowd, clearing a path as easily as he always did.
Leon couldn’t help but be jealous of that part as he had to skirt around people, ducking past elbows and serving platters.
By the time he made it to the door leading to the back of the stage, Ethan Winters was already going for 500 bucks.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he heard Karl Heisenberg’s booming voice raising the bid to a thousand. Couldn’t help an actual groan of irritation when he heard Chris raise him another 500.
“Finally,” Claire Redfield said, sounding so uncannily like her brother that Leon had a sudden bout of neausiating déjà vu. “And here I thought you were getting cold feet.”
When she tossed him his jacket, he caught it only on pure reflex, shaking it out to examine it for any damage.
“Calm down. It’s not poisoned or anything.”
He frowned. “It’s a jacket.”
Unconcerned, she leaned to get a view onto the stage where higher and higher numbers were still spiraling. She whistled, low and long, under her breath. “Hear that? Three thousand. For that twink? That’s insane.”
“Three thousand?” He couldn’t help but lean to get a look too. Ethan’s suit was pure white, his perpetually soft-looking hair even softer-looking than normal. “What an asshole.”
Claire laughed, just as the auctioneer and party host, Blake, announced Ethan Winters sold for 3,500 dollars. He couldn’t tell if Chris or Heisenberg had won that round.
“Jesus Christ.”
Claire snickered unkindly at him, driving an elbow into his side with a, “You’re up, pretty boy,” just as Blake announced into the microphone, “Leon Scott Kennedy!”
“Middle name,” he huffed under his breath, fixing his cuffs in hopes that it might alleviate some of his nerves. “Why is it always the middle name? ”
“Knock ‘em dead, tiger,” Claire stage-whispered.
He flipped her off as he made for the stage, where Blake was reading clinically clean facts off a piece of paper.
It was so easy like that. So cut-and-dry when he said, “Kennedy was born in sunny Arizona, where he knew since he was a kid that he wanted to be a police officer. He’s one of the most skilled physical combatants in the RPD and is renowned for his aim. Just don’t let him behind the wheel of a car, or there might be a new threat to national security!”
Leon had so thoroughly not been expecting that part that he could only stare at Blake as he finally reached the stage, jaw dropped.
The crowd chuckled along with it. Blake didn’t so much as glance at him.
“Now, let’s start the price for this lovely gentleman at forty dollars!”
Several paddles went up, a sea of numbers and black cotton sleeves and satin gloves.
Leon barely heard the numbers increasing, eyes scanning the crowd obsessively, flitting over each face before darting to the next.
Everything was over-exposed and washed out in the harsh white light, so ungodly bright it could’ve been a fucking gate to heaven in the atrium.
Then—there. Luis Serra Navarro, lounging at a white-clothed table with two women on either side of him. His arms were thrown over either of their chairs, relaxed as if he owned the entire fucking place.
Leon swallowed, trying to dislodge that lump that had somehow snuck into his throat.
Luis had not raised his paddle, though it dangled loosely from one of his hands.
He distantly heard Blake’s voice reach the thousand mark, though all of the people betting on him were faceless wraiths, their avaricious claws digging into anything they could reach.
The voices tapered to a hush. Leon hadn’t even heard the final number.
He bit his lip, caught himself doing it, forced himself to stop.
The faces were all turned to him, eyeing him like a prize, like a pet, like a slice of meat. Something to be ogled at, something to be touched and displayed.
“Going once, going twice, and sold—”
“Fifteen thousand.”
Everybody turned at that. At the voice, clear and loud and confident. At the paddle raised high in the air, at the lips twitched into a self-satisfied smile.
Luis caught his eye and winked.
“Sold to Doctor Serra Navarro!”
“Doctor?” Leon muttered, but he was already being ushered off the stage, a whirl of clothes and tittering giggles and hushed conversation pushing him closer and closer to the booth where Luis sat.
“Congratulations,” Chris’s voice muttered dryly, but it was gone just as fast and Leon was left standing at the edge of the table with nothing to say and no thoughts in his head.
Both of the women looked at him. The one on Luis’s right, a gloriously bedecked woman dripping with diamonds and jade, smiled at him like how a shark smiles at its prey.
On the left, a dapper woman in a waistcoat and wire-frame glasses, her dark hair pinned up out of her face, nodded cordially as he approached.
“So . . . ”
Luis’s grin was lethal. “Don’t be shy, cariño. Sit.”
The woman on the left slid out of the booth to make room for him before bracketing him in once more, trapping him between her and Luis. He still smelled like smoke.
“Hm.” He caught Leon’s chin in a soft grip and tilted his head this way and that, his dark eyes mapping out every centimeter of his face. “You look different in this lighting, dulzura.”
Leon couldn’t help the heat washing over his face at such careful scrutiny, though he refused to hide it. Just met Luis’s gaze with a frown. “Bad different?”
“Nothing about you is bad, Prince Charming.”
“I’m Doctor Anabel García Escudero,” the woman with glasses broke in, offering a hand over the table to shake. Her accent was softer than Luis’s, her voice careful and even, like each word was an exact science.
Leon, who’d forgotten completely that she was there, cleared his throat. “Leon.”
“I heard.” There was a bright shine of amusement to her eyes, only amplified when her gaze flickered first over to Luis, then to the other woman. “And my wife, Doctor Maria Sinclair.”
“Charmed,” she drawled, holding out a thin hand for him to take next. The feeling of the satin against his palm was disorienting. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Leon blinked. “Uh. What?”
Luis’s hand landed on his thigh and he jumped. The warm weight of it there was quickly siphoning all of his focus, and he could hardly even process Maria’s words as she continued.
“—He’s always on about this and that, of course, but he always had a thing for blondes, you know.”
Luis smiled indulgently, unashamed even as she spoke about him as though he weren’t there.
Maria leaned conspiratorially close to Leon—had to lean over Luis to do so—and muttered, “Don’t tell, but he’s always had a thing for the fire, too. A pretty face and a strong arm. All the better to bring to their knees. The mightier they are, the harder they fall, and whatnot. You didn’t hear it from me, but—”
“Actually, Maria,” Finally, a reaction. Luis put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed with encouraging pressure. “Maybe you should go entertain your blushing bride over yonder, hm?”
“Marvelous idea,” Anabel said tightly, though Leon could see the corners of her lips pressed tight to hold back a smile. “It was great meeting you, Leon. If Serra here gets too excited about the XELV, just give him a good slap. It oughtta snap him right out of it.”
“Okay,” Leon muttered lamely, watching her slink out of the booth and lock arms with Maria as they prowled into the crowd.
When he turned back to look at Luis, he couldn’t help the amusement at his slightly reddened cheeks. “Well, Doctor,” he said deliberately. “Your coworkers seem nice.”
“Hm.” A hand on his hip, fingertips digging into his flesh. “Doctor, eh? And you don’t think I’m a—hm, what was it? Ah, sí, a ‘piece of shit Umbrella scientist?’”
Leon grimaced, both at the words and the sharp stab of cold that shot through Luis’s expression at it, but he just tipped his head back, his own hand finding Luis’s thigh and sliding across the rough expanse of his pant-leg. “Yet to be decided.”
That cold melted as soon as it’d come, a veritable fire taking its place. “I suppose I’ll just have to show you I’m not that bad.”
Leon jumped when Luis’s lips found his neck again, his eyes shooting fervently over the crowd, though no one seemed to have yet noticed the brazen display. His alarm quickly fell away, replaced by growing shame and growing excitement as Luis’s tongue traced his skin. “I—I could be convinced, I guess.”
“I’ll bet.” Biting amusement snuck into his tone, his hand getting bolder as it slid closer to his groin. “I believe I know exactly how to convince you, mi sol. Something a little like this, no?”
His free hand wandered up, careful fingers playing against the muscles in his back before finding the nape of his neck and tangling in the soft strands at the base of his skull.
“Luis,” he hissed, desperate and warning and breathless all at once. “Don’t.” His eyes shot over again. Some people were looking now. No scandalized gasps yet, but amusement and irritation were popular. “Not—not here.”
Luis must’ve liked something in his answer—Leon could feel his smile against his jugular. “Oh, nene. Where, then? Hm? Shall we take this back to the alley?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Isn’t there—is there someplace else? This is a big place.”
Luis’s hands slid away from his hair—Leon couldn’t help but whimper at the loss of contact—before taking his chin gently just as he’d done before. His predatory smile was just an inch away from Leon’s parted lips, his blazing eyes calculating. “Are you trying to take me to a secondary location, dulzura? Desperate, aren’t you?”
A blush even worse than before clawed its way to his face, making every inch of his body burn as he tried to avert his gaze. He only succeeded in turning his eyes to Luis’s lips. They looked soft, and Leon knew from their kiss in the alley that they were.
Leon had never kissed someone with soft lips before. Ada’s were tacky with lipstick or lip gloss or something. Krauser’s were dry and chapped, dragging borderline-painful friction along Leon’s skin.
“Just trying to get your money’s worth.”
“How shrewd.” Shifting his thumb, he swept it across Leon’s bottom lip, parting his lips just slightly. “I like that in a man.”
Leon jumped when Luis’s grip alighted in his hair again, but it wasn’t pulling, wasn’t tugging. Just resting there, petting across the strands softly.
He shuddered, then hoped Luis hadn’t noticed.
From the muted chuckle this earned, he had.
“Luis.”
One of his eyebrows crept up—either at the new tone or the severe look. “¿Sí, mi amor?”
Leon couldn’t hold his gaze. It was just like that burning tip of his cigarette, slowly turning everything it touched to ash. He bit his lip, thought of how to say what he meant.
He was never good with words; action was his mother tongue. But a blade wouldn’t fit this situation—a bullet, a blade, bloody knuckles, bloody cheeks, bloody teeth.
“Leon?”
The hand in his hair stilled, a warm, comforting weight on his head.
His tone was flatter, strangled, when he finally managed, “Fifteen thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
That surprised him, Leon could tell. His hand withdrew.
Leon was prepared to lose the moment, to let whatever they’d been kindling slip from between his fingers, but before he could pull away, Luis caught his jaw, hands on either side of his face.
“Ah, Leon,” he sighed fondly, thumb sweeping across his cheek. “To be honest, I wasn’t planning to do it.”
That made him frown, but Luis just tightened his grip on his face infinitesimally. Not enough to hurt, but a comforting pressure, fingers digging into his skin.
“I figured I’d let you have your fun for the night, then I’d track you down later and we could continue where we left off.”
Luis’s face was still very close to his and whatever odd emotion was swirling in his gut didn’t last very long, quickly subsumed by something larger, something even harder to name. It pushed everything else out to make room for itself, until there was nothing else in Leon’s body but it—his lungs were full of Luis’s smoke, his nerves were on fire with Luis’s touch.
“But then you were up there, and—” his voice finally faltered, humming to a standstill. His tongue dragged across his lip, his eyes drifting somewhere off to the side before he continued, softer, “You looked frightened.”
Warm humiliation and warmer pleasure flooded Leon at that. He could feel his face heating up—could feel the blush crawl all the way down his neck, too, disappearing under his shirt. “I wasn’t scared.”
Luis’s thumb was still ghosting over his skin, his blunt fingernail tracing the line of his nose, the soft pad of his fingertip dragging under his eye. “It’s okay to be frightened, Leon.”
“No,” he bit, scowl on his face even as he couldn’t meet Luis’s eyes. “Not for me. I’m supposed to—supposed to—”
“What? Be perfect?” He chuckled under his breath, and, as if anticipating that Leon would try to pull away (a correct assumption) held on tighter, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Well I don’t accept that. No one is perfect. And besides,” His grin was glittering like the chandeliers above, “you don’t need to do anything. I’ll be your knight in shining armor, ready to fight off the monsters.”
Leon scoffed, rolling his eyes. Any heat was lost, though, as he practically melted into Luis’s touch. God, it’d been so long. So long since he’d been wanted, so long since he’d been touched with no backlash, no bite, no ultimatum. “You’re the knight? Not the highly-trained police officer carrying several weapons?”
“Hey, don’t judge so quickly now. I know my way around all sorts of weapons, cariño.”
Leon pulled out of his grasp—Luis let him—to slap a hand on his forehead and groan. “You did not just say that.”
Luis’s hand slid across the inside of his thigh without warning and he jumped, biting back a yelp.
“Luis,” he groaned, grabbing his wrist though not pushing him away when his palm finally pressed into his growing erection. “We’re in public.”
He scoffed, leaning forward again to fully cover Leon’s body. This was a double-bonus: firstly, it provided clever cover from prying eyes, hiding his wandering hands from anyone who might glance. Secondly, Leon was getting drunk on his warmth. He‘d been drunk before, but not like this. This was . . . deeper than that. Not the sick-sweet of alcohol, but the heady intoxication of human warmth, of soft skin.
He moaned softly into Luis’s shoulder, eyes fluttering.
“You don’t seem to mind that we’re in public,” Luis murmured, lips grazing down his temple.
“Luis,” he said again—it was more like a gasp, though, and he didn’t even have time to fully be ashamed of that because the telltale sound of a zipper dragging interrupted all of his thoughts. “Absolutely not.”
With a relenting sigh, like Luis had been more than expecting that, he zipped Leon’s pants back up instantly and shifted away. “Worth a shot.”
Leon was glad he didn’t have a mirror to see himself—he could only imagine how many embarrassing things his face was doing. He’d always blushed easily, red staining his skin like crimson wine, and even as he put a hand directly over his face to try and hide it, he doubted there was much Luis didn’t see.
His suspicions were only confirmed when Luis flat-out laughed, reaching over a hand to brush his bangs out of his eye. “Oh, nene. You’re so adorable.”
“Do not call me that,” he snapped, batting Luis’s hand away. “And don’t—don’t do that here. My boss is here. Your boss is here.”
“Well then,” he said mournfully, taking Leon’s hand and pressing it to his own cheek, stubble rough under his palm, his expression that of a man dying, “what’s the alternative? We cannot possibly slip away from such a prestigious party. My absence would be noted, because obviously, and no one,” he purred this into Leon’s ear, his breath warm, “could miss you.”
“I’m a grown man.” He put his hands on Luis’s shoulders with the intention of pushing him away, but lost the willpower to do so halfway through. “I can control myself.”
“You’re a stronger man than I, Sancho.”
“Sancho,” he scoffed, finally following through and nudging Luis a safe few inches across the booth. “Why do I have to be the squire? I’m the one with the gun!”
“How threatening. Are you going to arrest me, officer?”
Heat flooded him instantly and he slapped both hands over his face to hide it.
Luis was already laughing, grabbing his wrists to tug them away so he could lay sloppy kisses on Leon’s cheeks. “Hey, hey, I’m kidding, cowboy.” Then, eyebrow arched, “Unless you’re into that?”
He tried to hide his face again but Luis’s soft hands were deceptively strong.
Leon could beat him, could wrench away his grip easily, could pin him to the ground with a gun to his temple, but he didn’t want to. It had been so, so long.
“In time, amor.” With impossible ease, Luis shifted Leon’s unresisting body until he was perched comfortably in his lap, his back pressed to Luis’s warm chest, Luis’s nimble arms encircling his waist.
Leon heard a snicker from somewhere in the crowd and this time when he buried his face in his hand, Luis let him. “Luis,” he hissed, his voice embarrassingly close to a whine. “Not here.”
“Hm? I thought you said you could control yourself, dulzura.”
“You’re testing,” he growled, wrigging in Luis’s lap until he was pulled tight against his chest with near bruising force, “my patience.”
“High praise.”
Leon felt him shift, just slightly, until something was pressing up against him and he had to bite back a sound. “Luis.”
“Mm, say that again.”
“God dammit.” Swiftly he stood, readjusting his pants as discreetly as he could.
Luis watched him, still lounging, unashamed of the visible bulge in his own slacks. “Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you off, nene—”
“Come on.” Grabbing him bodily by the shoulders, Leon wrenched him up and tugged him through the crowd.
He bullied people out of his way without remorse, Luis offering belated apologies over his shoulder. It seemed like an eternity before they reached a door to exit the impossibly large ballroom.
“Secondary location,” Luis muttered again. “People will notice it—”
“Fuck them.” The door shut behind them with a slam, closing off the offensive brightness and the inane chatter.
“Where—”
“There’s a million rooms in this place, we can find something.” He dragged Luis behind him down the opulent hallways, not paying a single brain-cell of attention to its beauty as he opened door after door.
It wasn’t long before they found one suitable. Well, Leon didn’t think it was suitable, but when he tried to back out again, Luis guided him deeper inside with a grip on his waist.
“Absolutely not,” Leon hissed, glaring at the large window dominating the opposite wall.
It was a small room that’d been repurposed into storage, the wooden shelves and cardboard boxes they held collecting a thick layer of dust.
“Luis.”
“I know right?” he stage-whispered. “We’d be crazy to do anything here.” His teeth were on the back of Leon’s neck and his knees were already starting to go weak, only held up by Luis’s wandering hand wasting no time in sliding up under his shirt.
“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered, even as he couldn’t help but tip his head to the side to give Luis more room.
He attacked the pale skin, sucking deep angry marks, swiping his tongue over his teeth-marks in apology each time. “Tell me to stop and this stops,” he murmured.
Leon couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. The word stop had been so far from his mind that he had to think for a second to remember its definition. “How chivalrous.”
“Common courtesy, mi amor.”
“I could fend you off if you didn’t.”
“Not the point.” One hand worked deftly at Leon’s suit buttons, enviably swift as he did one and then the other single-handedly. “But I’ll admit, it creates a rather enticing image, no?”
“What?” he scoffed, obligingly dropping his jacket when Luis stepped away, letting his undone shirt fall quickly with it. “Me beating you with a baton?”
“Not the image I had in mind, but, if you’d enjoy that, sure.”
Leon was still facing away from him, still looking anxiously towards the light-filled window. When Luis grabbed at his hips and turned him around, he resisted for only a second before relenting. “I’m not going to beat you with a baton, Luis.”
He shrugged, but his eyes were downcast to Leon’s bared torso, tracing a nail over his stomach and through the thin hair on his pelvis.
Leon shivered, tried to duck back in on himself.
Luis stopped him, stooping to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Déjame ver, cariño.”
Leon let his eyes flutter shut at the first brush of Luis’s knuckles along the edge of his ribcage. “Leon. Qué hermoso.”
Leon had to bite down on his thumb to stifle the sound trying to claw its way from his throat, shivers rolling over his skin.
Nobody he had ever been with had done this, had cataloged his body like trying to make a mental map of all his bones and muscles, every inch of roughened skin.
The feeling washed over him like a wave—not one wave, but many, all in quick succession, repeating over and over again, keeping his head underwater.
“Do you remember this?”
Leon startled at his words, coming back from whatever white-noise his mind had fallen into as Luis’s hands explored him. “What?”
Luis pressed a soft fingertip into the flesh below his pectoral, off to his left side. He’d forgotten about it, but there was indeed a scar there. It hadn’t been that long since it’d been made and already it was fading—both from his skin and from his memory. He was a mirror reflecting everything done to him, a tapestry woven from the bittersweet threads of his experiences.
“She was drunk,” he recalled slowly. “Disturbing the peace. Escalated things.”
Slowly—so, so painfully slowly—Luis sank down.
Leon’s mind went blank as he did, all thoughts running out like sand through fingers.
Luis held his gaze all the while, as he knelt down in front of Leon, as he dragged his fingernails over his sides, as he pressed his lips to the scar.
Leon whimpered, unable to curb the sound even as he dug his teeth hard into his hand. His scar burned. His skin burned. Every inch of him burned.
“You’re so pretty, dulzura. So beautiful. I’m lucky I snatched you up before any of those stuffy pedants could dig their claws in.”
Leon’s back ended up against a wall—he wasn’t sure how. All he knew was that the sound of his zipper slowly sliding down was pounding around in his skull and all of his nerve endings were still sizzling at just the suggestion of Luis’s lips over his cock.
He must’ve made a noise—Luis laughed softly, mouthing over the bulge in his boxers as he slowly slid Leon’s pants down to bunch around his ankles.
Unable to help his shiver, he closed his eyes, tipping his head back.
As if in punishment, Luis hand wrapped around the back of his thigh tight, nails digging in.
He yelped, looked back down. Luis was already peering up at, amusement and heady desire making him look far hungrier than he had before.
“You’re so soft,” he teased gently, dragging the tip of his tongue over the edge of Leon’s hip-bone as he inched the waistband down so, so slowly. “Very . . . squishy.”
Leon’s laugh was only a little breathless. “You’re great at dirty-talk. Is this how you seduce all the ladies?”
“Seduce? No, cariño, there is no seducing necessary. I just flash my charming grin and they melt.”
Leon rolled his eyes. “Charming. Yeah. That’s totally how I’d describe— fuck!”
Luis had bit into his thigh, so hard that the angry red indents of his teeth were stark against his skin. The surprise more than the pain made Leon’s hand fly up to tangle in Luis’s hair.
Luis hummed, sucking a deep mark just below the bite. “Soft,” he repeated. “It’s cute.”
“I am not,” he hissed, “soft.”
Luis’s grip on his leg tightened. Leon could already imagine the bruises that would no doubt form, purple-black marks shaped like Luis’s fingertips.
He was whimpering without quite realizing it, his eyes squeezed shut. Krauser had always said he was loud—he’d loved it, loved making Leon scream and scream and scream—
We’re just going to try this one thing. Hold still. It’ll be over soon. I don’t lie, I don’t lie, I don’t lie, I don’t—
As if sensing his fevered mind spiraling, Luis scraped his teeth along Leon’s hip. It snapped him so suddenly back to reality that he gasped.
“Still with me, cowboy?”
Leon couldn’t bear to open his eyes, to meet Luis’s gaze that was surely boring into his skull. “Where else would I go?”
“Second thoughts?”
“I’m not sure I had first thoughts to begin with.”
Luis’s fingers were at his waistband again, inching it down slower than Leon’s arousal could handle. “Hm. I like a man who doesn’t think.”
His eyes were still squeezed shut, phantom images playing across his eyelids. “Lucky me, then.”
“Yanqui.” A hand on his waist, rough and unrelenting. Pressing him into the wall, grounding him to reality. “Cariño. Querido. Dulzura. Leon. Look at me, please.”
Slowly, Leon did. It was nothing like looking at Krauser. Nothing like looking at Ada. Nothing like anything he’d ever felt before.
He felt his face heating up and nearly lifted a hand to cover it again. Right then, though, breaking eye contact felt just about as impossible as accidentally walking off the face of the earth. “What?”
A smile twitched his lips up as he traced soft circles into Leon’s skin. Barely a whisper, he asked, “Second thoughts?”
“No thoughts,” Leon breathed, blush only deepening as he realized just how true it was. His mind was a sea of white noise, nothing but static fuzzing behind his eyes.
His eyebrow quirked, tongue flicking out to run along the damp spot in the fabric of his boxers. “¿Qué quieres de mí?”
“Fuck me. Please?”
Luis groaned, hand leaving Leon’s waist to paw at his own erection. “Ay, amor, are you trying to kill me?”
Leon’s grip tightened in Luis’s hair as he finally tugged Leon’s boxers all the way down, taking his cock in his soft hand and stroking it fast.
“Fuck!” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut. It had been too long since he’d been touched. He’d thought about that earlier, too, but it was more acute now, how every small twist of Luis’s hand sent a new tidal wave of sensation through his body.
He felt disgustingly like a puppet, like a mindless creature, dependent entirely on Luis for instruction.
When Luis’s mouth finally enveloped him, he couldn’t help all of the sounds falling from his throat, his mind going completely silent. In that moment, nothing but Luis was real.
It already seemed impossible enough that someone like Luis existed, much less that someone like Luis existed and wanted wanted to fuck him.
Luis swirled his tongue around the head, hollowing his cheeks as he pulled back just to put on a show.
“Jesus.” Leon ran his hands through his hair, catching on stray knots and gently disentangling them. “Shit. You’re—you’re good at that.”
He pulled off for long enough to say—Leon was learning rapidly that Luis could never resist talking—“And you’re very responsive. Are you always like this, or is it just my talent that makes you this—ah— vocal?”
Leon’s face flamed again instantly and he slapped a hand over it, making sure his scowl was still perfectly visible. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”
His free hand was still stroking over Leon’s spit-slicked cock, the warmed-through rings dragging perfectly against his sensitive skin. His pleased smile was more than audible when he said, “Ah, so it’s always like this then?”
“Fuck off.”
Luis stood with a flourish, swiping the dirt from his pant-legs. With him on his knees, Leon had nearly been able to forget the height difference between them, but it was impossible now, with Luis bearing down on him, pressing him further into the wall.
He couldn’t help but notice the distinct unfairness between them in clothing, too, as Luis was still perfectly decent and the only thing Leon still wore were his pants around his ankles.
Scowling, he attacked the buttons on Luis’s jacket, determined to see just as much of his skin.
Even imagining it made his throat dry. He was a pretty-boy scientist, so he’d probably be smooth-skinned and unblemished. Lithe and beautiful and ethereal as an angel.
It made Leon remember his own body, his jagged marks, all the painful memories that wouldn’t wash out even under water so hot it turned his skin scarlet and scrubbing so hard it tore.
His hands stilled, his brows furrowed, but Luis just gently took the buttons from him and undid them himself, letting his vest fall to the ground.
“What are you thinking about, amor?” he asked, sparing an arm to wrap around Leon’s waist and press them together.
Leon was gratified to feel Luis’s erection press against his stomach, to feel the wetness seeping through the fabric. Evidence that Luis was just as affected as he was. “Thinking about how soft you are,” he muttered, gaze falling to fix on his throat. “Never been outside a lab, huh?”
Luis said nothing, his arm tightening briefly before relaxing again.
Leon looked up to watch his expression. Something unnamable flitted over it, his eyes somewhere far, far away for only a second before he was smiling again, dragging his lips over Leon’s cheekbone. “Don’t be so sure, cowboy.”
Taking Leon’s hand, he pressed it to his sternum, palm flat against the warm fabric of his shirt.
Leon felt warmth—unbelievable warmth—then his heartbeat, and then the uneven, jagged texture of scar tissue.
He frowned, hardly even tracking his own body as he reached to undo Luis’s buttons, each one seeming to take an eternity to slip off.
And there, just as promised, there was a deep mark. Long healed, probably, but it must’ve been a nasty wound. The edges like animal claws, the shape and size of it suggesting something deep. Something that very easily could’ve killed.
Leon met his eyes. Luis was watching him carefully. So, so carefully, like how an injured man watches a wild beast who’d scented his blood.
Leon stooped down, embarrassment and self-consciousness stopping him from meeting Luis’s gaze, and pressed his lips to the scar, same as Luis had done to him.
He was ashamed to admit how hot it was when Luis’s breath stuttered, how his own cock jumped when Luis’s arm tightened around him.
“Leon,” he growled, deep and guttural. “Te podría comer enterito.” His hand was in Leon’s hair in an instant, not just pulling but dragging him bodily away from the wall and to one of the empty shelves.
Luis practically threw him down onto it, the unforgiving wood of it digging into his shoulders when Luis held him down with a hand between his shoulder blades.
Leon’s scalp burned with pain and he was making pathetic noises and his eyes were rolling back into his head with pleasure, every single nerve ending on fire. God, it was fucking perfect.
Luis palmed his ass, fingernails digging into his flesh before dipping to trace along his hole with agonizing gentleness.
“Soft,” he purred again, his voice a subsonic rumble against Leon’s back. “So fucking perfect, perrito.”
“Luis— god,” he muttered, unable to help his strangled sigh when Luis’s hand tangled in his hair again, only for it to turn into a sob as he wrenched Leon’s head back.
“Go on, then. Make yourself useful.” He pressed his fingers to Leon’s lips, dragging against the seam of his mouth.
He let his lips fall open eagerly, lapping at Luis’s fingers with a moan, hollowing his cheeks and reveling in the heady weight of them on his tongue.
“Such a good boy,” he purred, tugging harder on Leon’s hair until his neck was straining, his spine arching to accommodate. “Better at following orders than I thought you’d be.”
Pressing his fingers deeper, Leon couldn’t help but gag around them, his eyes watering immediately even as he tried to blink the tears away.
Luis just chuckled, withdrawing his fingers lazily before pressing them back in again just as far. And again and again, he set a lackadaisical pace, fucking Leon’s mouth as though he had all the time in the world.
The concept of time wasn’t really registering for Leon anymore anyway. The window was forgotten—there could’ve been an entire entourage outside filming and he’d have no idea.
His mind was consumed with the clean, biting taste of Luis’s skin, with Luis’s hand holding his hair so tight his skin screamed with pain that only made his cock grow impossibly harder.
He tried to press his hips back into Luis, into the bulge impossible to ignore against him, but Luis just chuckled and withdrew his fingers.
Leon whimpered, stuttering out a mindless “Please.”
It only earned him another laugh, a harsher pull on his hair until he straightened up, back pressed to Luis’s chest.
His eyes fluttered shut when Luis’s fingers, still coated in Leon’s saliva, pinched his nipple, nails lending that perfect stab of pain that had Leon moaning.
“Perrito. Adorable.” He licked the tears from Leon’s cheek, gave his nipple one last tug, before he was pressing him back into the shelf and shoving a rough finger into him.
Leon choked on a moan, back arching as far as Luis’s hand on his spine would allow. It had a while, and he felt all those long months in the burning stretch as Luis began an unrelenting rhythm, leaving him no choice but to adjust to the intrusion.
His already iffy understanding of Spanish abandoned him completely, and Luis’s words whispered sweetly into his ear were incomprehensible. God, but Luis’s voice.
He added a second finger and Leon was ashamed to admit just how close to cumming he was just from that, his breaths coming in panting gasps and moans.
“Hermoso,” Luis murmured, curling his clever fingers in search of that perfect spot. “I see now. You’re wasted as some officer. This is where you belong, no? Do you like that idea? I’d keep you here on my cock all day. Prometido. You’d forget your own name, muñeca.”
His fingers finally found Leon’s prostate and he jolted, crying out as Luis immediately abused the spot mercilessly.
Words left his mouth without him realizing, mindless begs and pleas for both more and less at the same time. All of his senses were full of Luis—of his touch, his smell, his taste, his voice. Nothing in the entire world existed save for him.
When he pulled his fingers out, Leon couldn’t help the whine that escaped him, his uselessly shaking hands curling into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.
“Needy,” Luis commented, petting down his spine as he lined up his cock, slicked by spit and precum. “Desperate is a good look on you, dulzura. So beautiful.”
He pressed in slowly—so, so painfully slowly—so slowly that Leon could help but press his hips back, choking out a nearly incomprehensible string of begs.
“What? What do you want, Leon? You can use your words, no?”
He barely managed to choke out, “Bastard. God. Fuck me. Please.”
“Alright, fine. Since you asked so nicely.” He pressed in. Leon had taken thicker cocks, but Leon was long. He felt it in his guts, rearranging his vital organs as he tried to adjust to it.
One slow thrust in, then pulling out so, so slowly until only the head remained, catching on his rim.
He groaned, eyes glazing over as Luis pushed in again lazily, a far-cry from his earlier tempo.
Another thrust, pressing Leon’s hips flush against the edge of the shelf.
Leon, while not not enjoying himself, couldn’t help but try to press back, to chase the delicious friction. “Are you planning to take all night?” he snapped, lifting himself up on his elbows only for Luis to press him right back down again, draping his chest over him like a weighted blanket.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not having fun.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes and hoping Luis saw. “Actually, maybe I’ll go back in there and ask Chris—”
Luis thrust into him harshly, angling his hips just right and Leon could only moan, his eyes rolling back into his head as sharp pleasure washed over him.
“Hm? What was that? Still complaining?”
“F-fuck. Please.”
“Please what? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He drew out slowly once more, letting Leon feel every inch of his cock, before driving in again hard.
Leon’s entire body jerked with the force of it. There would no doubt be bruises on his hips.
Another thrust and Leon’s jaw went slack, numbness rapidly clawing up his legs. His body felt useless, felt like just a pretty toy for Luis to use however he liked.
The idea of that made his arousal mount even more, his skin burning as Luis’s wandering hands found his hips to pull him back, meeting each thrust with merciless force.
“Please—please just—” Even then, in an already compromising situation, Leon couldn’t force the words out.
“¿Mande? What’s that, mi vida?”
Tucking his face into the crook of his elbow, he uttered something incomprehensible.
Luis’s fingers curled tighter, slamming his hips back. His force contradicted his soft tone when he said, “I’ll never know what you want unless you tell me.”
By the time he realized the words had fallen from his lips, he’d already said, “Pull my hair.”
“¿Mande?” he asked again, his surprise persisting only a half-second before he was laughing loudly, his hips stilling, cock buried deep in Leon’s body.
Leon tucked his face away again, wishing fervently that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He wriggled, but it only served to rub Luis’s dick against his prostate and all rational thought fled immediately.
Luis grabbed his face with both hands and lifted his face, planting wet kisses along his jaw and nose and cheeks and forehead, until Leon was sure smoke was pouring from his ears.
“Leon. Ah, mi Leon. All you need to do is ask, you know.”
Leon barely had time to feel him pull out before there was a hand in his hair grabbing with molten force and pulling, Luis driving deep inside of him.
Leon’s back arched, hands clawing for any surface they could find. His legs were definitely numb, but it was all he could do to even remember he had legs, much less work out how to use them.
He was vaguely aware that he was sobbing, gasping out delirious moans and grunts and cries so loud that surely everyone at the stupid party could hear them clear as day.
“So loud, perrito,” Luis commented, tugging his head further back to whisper into his ear. “And you were the one worried before.”
He slurred something—even he himself wasn’t entirely sure what. Language was a foreign concept, the only thing running through his mind was Luis. His hands, gliding across his body and leaving cinders and char in their wake; the delicious pain in his scalp sending shockwaves over his synapses; Luis’s cock inside of him, stretching and burning and better than anything he’d felt before.
The smell of him invaded Leon’s senses. Heady, sharp smoke and ammonia, clinical and clean. Doctor Serra Nevarro, whose careful grip was effectively making Leon forget his own name as he drove in again and again and again and again—
“This is what you wanted, right?” He gave a sharp tug that made Leon’s vision white out.
All he could do was whimper, nodding fervently as best he could. His hand snaked down, desperate for any friction at all.
Luis caught his wrist, grip bruising around Leon’s already insensate hand, holding it fast against the shelf as his body continued to rock with each punishing thrust. “No. You’re going to cum like this, or not at all.” He chuckled softly, seeming completely unaffected by their position. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. Leave you like this for the rest of the night.”
Leon whimpered, opening his mouth to say something along the lines of Don’t you dare, but all that came out was a whining, “No.”
“Hm? What, you don’t like that idea? I guess you’d better ask nicely then.”
He released Leon’s hair, letting him fall back to the shelf with a soft moan. Pinching Leon’s waist as encouragement, Luis’s movements stilled, leaving Leon impaled on his cock.
Even the humiliating idea of sitting uncomfortable in front of his coworkers and those scientists with a raging hard-on wasn’t enough to curb his arousal.
He lifted himself up on his elbows, shaking with strain and pleasure, and tried his level best to rock himself back. The slight change in angle was enough for Luis to strike his prostate on every thrust, as his arms nearly gave out, his legs trembling under his own weight.
“Joder, vaya obra de arte.” He released Leon’s wrist to grab him, though didn’t guide his movements. Just held tight to his waist like a lifeline.
Leon pulled his hips back unsteadily and sank down again. His jaw slackened around a moan and he could do nothing but stay there for a long moment, panting.
Luis quickly grew impatient of his stillness, though, and pulled back only to slam forward once, pulling him back until they were pressed flush once more.
His voice was lower, huskier, when he growled, “Are you really this desperate for everybody? You’d get on your knees for anyone with a strong hand, huh?”
“Fuck— off,” Leon whined, but Luis was grinding his hips against him, pressing in and in and in until Leon was pretty sure he could feel Luis in his stomach.
“That’s not what you want, querido,” he purred. “We both know that. Good boys don’t lie.”
A shudder ran through him again. He felt as fragile as glass, just a single stray touch away from shattering completely.
“Leon. Mírame. Quiero verte la cara.”
He grabbed Leon’s chin, turned his head until his neck was craned. His eyes fixed on Luis’s—he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Leon was the one who leaned forward and sealed their lips together. He could taste the lingering traces of his own cum when Luis’s tongue dragged along the roof of his mouth.
With a shudder and a cry, Leon came. His vision whited out, his mind scrubbed mercifully blank of all worries and paranoia and tragedy. Only this moment existed. Only Luis, who came a few seconds later with a groan that was swallowed immediately by Leon.
Regretfully, Leon had to break the kiss to breathe, sagging back onto the shelf bonelessly.
The only sound was their breathing, echoing off of the wall.
Leon felt the puff of air on the back of his neck with each of Luis’s breaths, could feel Luis’s warmth radiating off of him, his steady weight unyielding.
“Fuck.” Leon pressed his forehead against the shelf, eyes squeezed shut. Luis’s cock was softening inside of him. He felt so full —god, he could stay like this for hours. “Fuck.”
“¿Cómo te encuentras, mi amor?”
Only a little muffled, Leon grunted, “I don’t speak Spanish.”
He chuckled, laying a line of kisses along the back of Leon’s neck. “How are you feeling? Are you alright?”
With a scowl, Leon pushed to standing. He groaned when Luis pulled out, distracted momentarily by the intoxicating feeling of Luis’s cum dripping down his leg. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
That only made Luis laugh harder. “I’ll bet, cowboy.” He didn’t look even a hint uncomfortable as he tucked his dick back into his pants. His hair remained somehow impeccable.
Leon scrounged around for his own clothes, face burning. He tried not to look back at Luis. “Worth the money?”
“And more.”
He couldn’t help but jump when Luis’s arms wrapped around him from behind, pressing them flush once more. “Why so eager to leave?”
Leon rolled his eyes. The question alone was ludicrous—what was he supposed to do, lay around with Luis on the dust-covered floor? He was not a creature made for aftercare, was not a person to hold or be held. Luis might’ve liked the sweat-slick skin and the saccharine-sweet moans, but he wouldn’t like Leon.
“Come on. Let’s get back before they notice.”
“Oh, I have no doubt they’ve noticed. But is that really important, cariño?”
Leon grabbed his wrists, still latched on tight to him, but didn’t pull away. The warmth was heady. He thought he’d trained his body well enough, thought he’d cut out the more human desires, but it was impossible not to sink into Luis’s warmth—god, he was so warm.
“Weren’t you trying to get me my money’s worth? What if I want one more thing.”
Leon tipped his head back, letting it fall onto Luis’s shoulder. Lips found his cheek, his temple, his jaw, and his eyes fluttered shut. “Yeah? Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready for round two.”
“Your number, mi alma.”
“My what?”
“Number. Phone number. Texting? Calls? Tell me you don’t speak English, either.”
“You don’t want my number.” Leon pushed him away, shaking the dust off of his pants and slipping them on, eyeing his cum-stained boxers before tossing them into the corner of the room and shucking his shirt on, reaching for his tie.
Luis already had it between his hands, looping it around his throat deftly.
Leon tipped his head back to let him, eyes off to the side. He said again, “You don’t want my number.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” A knuckle dragged across his jawline, his still-unbuttoned shirt cinched at his tie. “I’ve had a wonderful time.”
He scowled down at Luis’s hands still tangled in his collar. “You got your dick wet, isn’t that enough?”
Luis was silent so long that Leon finally met his eyes. “Is that why you think I followed you? Is that why you think I brought you here? To have some fun and leave you here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Leon.” A fingertip trailed across his cheekbone. “You underestimate yourself.”
“I don’t—”
“I’ll tell you what, though. You give me your number, and let me take you out sometime, and I promise I will tell you every single reason I asked in the first place.”
Leon let his eyes fall closed, let his head tilt towards the touch. He tried not to let himself want— but that beast had long escaped its leash. “And then?”
If Luis had seen his fear up on the podium, there was no doubt he scented it now. “Whatever you want, cariño.”