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The training facility was a ghost town after midnight, the corridors silent except for the low buzz of vending machines and the occasional creak of settling metal. Leon S. Kennedy lingered in the gym longer than he needed to, telling himself it was to cool down properly, to stretch out the burn in his thighs and shoulders. In truth, he was waiting. Hoping. For weeks the tension had been building like a storm front—every barked order from Major Jack Krauser, every “correction” of his stance with hands that gripped too hard and lingered too long, every shared glance in the locker room that felt like a brand.
Tonight the air felt thicker, heavier. Krauser hadn’t dismissed him after the last drill. Instead he’d stood at the edge of the mat, arms folded, watching Leon run through knife-disarm repetitions until his arms shook. When Leon finally dropped the rubber training blade and bent over, hands on his knees, gasping, Krauser’s voice cut through the quiet.
“Again.”
Leon straightened slowly, chest heaving. “Sir, I—”
“Again, rookie. You drop your guard like that in the field, you’re dead. Or worse.”
There was something in the way Krauser said worse that made Leon’s pulse spike. He picked up the blade, reset his stance, and went through the motions once more—slower this time, exhaustion dragging at every movement. Krauser watched in silence, eyes tracking every shift of muscle under Leon’s sweat-soaked shirt.
When Leon finished the set and let the blade fall a second time, Krauser finally moved. He crossed the mat in three long strides and stopped inches away, close enough that Leon could feel the heat rolling off him.
“You’re spent,” Krauser said, voice low, almost conversational. “Body’s screaming. Mind’s foggy. That’s when mistakes happen.”
Leon swallowed, throat dry. “I can keep going, sir.”
Krauser’s scarred mouth curved—just barely. “I know you can. Question is how much you’re willing to take.”
The words hung between them, loaded. Leon’s breath caught. He’d replayed moments like this in his head a hundred times—Krauser’s hand on the small of his back guiding him into proper form, the brush of calloused fingers along his wrist when adjusting his grip, the way Krauser’s gaze sometimes dropped to Leon’s mouth and stayed there a beat too long. He’d told himself it was imagination, projection, wishful thinking from a rookie with too many late-night fantasies.
But the look in Krauser’s eyes now wasn’t imagination.
Leon lifted his chin, meeting that stare head-on. “As much as you want to give me, Major.”
Something feral flashed across Krauser’s face. In the next heartbeat he had Leon by the front of his shirt, hauling him forward and slamming him back against the padded wall. The impact drove the air from Leon’s lungs in a sharp gasp, but before he could draw breath Krauser’s mouth was on his—hard, bruising, no preamble or permission asked.
Leon made a helpless sound into the kiss, hands coming up to fist in Krauser’s tactical vest. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, Krauser taking what he wanted, devouring. He tasted like black coffee and gunpowder, like danger, and Leon opened for him without hesitation, letting Krauser lick into his mouth, letting him control every angle and depth.
Krauser pressed closer, thigh shoving between Leon’s legs, forcing them apart. The friction against Leon’s hardening cock drew a broken moan from him. Krauser swallowed the sound, one hand sliding up to grip Leon’s jaw, holding him exactly where he wanted while he plundered deeper.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard. Krauser’s pupils were blown wide, gray irises just thin rings of steel.
“On your knees,” he ordered, voice rough as gravel.
Leon’s legs nearly gave out anyway, but he sank down slowly, eyes never leaving Krauser’s. The mat was cool beneath his knees. Krauser didn’t move to open his pants yet—just stood there, towering, letting the anticipation build until Leon’s hands were shaking with it.
“Touch me,” Krauser said at last.
Leon’s fingers went to Krauser’s belt with clumsy urgency, metal buckle clinking in the quiet room. He tugged the zipper down, freed Krauser’s cock—thick, heavy, flushed dark and already wet at the tip. Leon’s mouth watered. He leaned in, breathing him in, then licked a slow stripe up the underside, savoring the salt and heat.
Krauser’s hand settled in his hair—not pushing, just resting, a silent claim. Leon took him deeper, lips stretching wide, tongue working along the shaft. He set a careful rhythm at first, getting used to the weight on his tongue, the way Krauser’s hips twitched when he hollowed his cheeks. Then he took more, relaxing his throat until his nose brushed the coarse hair at the base.
Above him, Krauser exhaled a low, guttural curse. The hand in Leon’s hair tightened, guiding him now, setting a harder pace. Leon let him, eyes watering, letting Krauser fuck his mouth with short, controlled thrusts. Each drag over his tongue sent sparks down his spine, straight to his own neglected cock straining against his pants.
After what felt like forever, Krauser hauled him off with a wet pop, fingers twisted painfully tight in blond strands. Leon’s lips were swollen, spit shining on his chin, and he knew he must look wrecked.
“Up,” Krauser growled.
Leon rose on unsteady legs. Krauser spun him around immediately, pressing his chest to the wall again. Hands stripped Leon’s shirt up and off, then yanked his pants and briefs down in one rough motion, leaving him bare from the waist down. Cool air hit overheated skin; Leon shivered.
Krauser’s palms mapped his back, his sides, thumbs digging into muscle until Leon arched. Then lower—spreading him open, exposing him completely. Leon’s face burned, but he didn’t pull away. He pushed back instead, a silent plea.
Krauser spat—once, twice—into his palm, the sound obscene in the quiet. Slick fingers traced Leon’s entrance, circling, pressing in slow increments. Leon bit his lip to keep from moaning too loudly. One finger became two, scissoring, stretching him open with deliberate patience that felt almost cruel. Every time Leon tried to rock back for more, Krauser stilled him with a firm grip on his hip.
“Greedy,” Krauser murmured against his ear, breath hot. “You’ll take what I give you.”
Leon whimpered, forehead pressed to the padding. A third finger joined the others, curling just right to brush his prostate. His knees buckled; only Krauser’s arm banded around his waist kept him upright. The pleasure built in slow, relentless waves, dragging him toward the edge without letting him tip over.
When Krauser finally withdrew his fingers, Leon made a desperate sound. He heard the rustle of fabric, felt the blunt, slick press of Krauser’s cock nudging against him. Krauser didn’t thrust in right away—he dragged the head up and down, teasing, coating himself further in spit and pre-cum until Leon was trembling, pushing back shamelessly.
“Beg for it,” Krauser said.
“Please,” Leon gasped without hesitation. “Please, sir—need you inside me. Need it hard. Please—”
Krauser drove in with one long, punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Leon cried out, the stretch burning bright and perfect, fullness overwhelming. Krauser didn’t pause—he pulled back and slammed in again, setting a brutal rhythm from the start. Each thrust rocked Leon forward against the wall, nipples dragging against the rough padding, cock trapped between his body and the surface.
Krauser’s hand snaked around to grip Leon’s throat—not squeezing, just holding, thumb pressing lightly over his pulse. The possession in the gesture made Leon’s head spin. Krauser’s other hand wrapped around Leon’s cock, stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts—rough, fast, exactly what Leon needed.
The room filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding, Leon’s broken moans, Krauser’s low growls. Sweat dripped down Leon’s back; Krauser licked a stripe up his spine, tasting it, teeth scraping skin.
“You feel that?” Krauser rasped against his shoulder. “This is what real training feels like. Taking everything your superior gives you and begging for more.”
“Yes—fuck—yes, sir,” Leon sobbed, clenching around him.
Krauser’s pace turned savage, hips snapping hard enough to bruise. He shifted angle slightly and hit Leon’s prostate dead-on with every thrust. Leon saw white, pleasure coiling impossibly tight.
“Come on my cock,” Krauser ordered, voice ragged. “Show me you can follow orders.”
Leon shattered—orgasm ripping through him without a single touch to his cock beyond Krauser’s fist. He came in long, pulsing ropes against the wall, body locking down around Krauser in rhythmic spasms. Krauser snarled, thrusts stuttering, and buried himself deep one last time. Heat flooded Leon as Krauser came, marking him inside with pulse after pulse.
They stayed locked together for long minutes, Krauser’s weight pinning Leon gently now, both of them breathing like they’d run a marathon. Slowly, Krauser pulled out, a trickle of cum following that made Leon shudder. He turned Leon around, cupped his flushed face, and kissed him—slower this time, almost tender, tongues sliding lazily together.
When they parted, Krauser rested their foreheads together. “Shower,” he said quietly. “Then my quarters. We’re not done tonight.”
Leon, boneless and blissed-out, could only nod. “Yes, sir.”
As they gathered scattered clothes and headed for the locker room, Leon’s legs still trembling with aftershocks, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: whatever hellish training Krauser put him through from now on, he’d take it all. And beg for more.
Leon emerged from the locker room showers, skin still steaming from the hot water that had done little to wash away the lingering ache between his legs or the buzz in his veins. The facility's communal showers were empty this late, the fluorescent lights flickering like they were on their last legs. He wrapped a thin towel around his waist, droplets tracing paths down his toned chest and abs, his blond hair damp and tousled. Krauser's words echoed in his head: "Shower. Then my quarters. We're not done tonight." The promise—or was it a command?—sent a fresh thrill through him, mixing with the exhaustion from their earlier encounter.
Krauser's quarters were down a dimly lit hallway in the officer's wing, a privilege of rank that meant privacy. Leon had never been inside before, but he knew the door number from overhearing chatter among the other trainees. He paused outside, knocking softly—no answer. Frowning, he tried the handle; it clicked open, unlocked. "Sir?" he called, stepping in cautiously. The room was spartan: a single bed with military-precision tucked sheets, a desk piled with tactical manuals, a small lamp casting a warm glow over the space. No sign of Krauser. The air smelled faintly of aftershave and gun oil, a scent that was unmistakably him.
Leon closed the door behind him, heart picking up speed. Maybe Krauser was in the attached bathroom? He took a step forward, scanning the shadows—and that's when it happened. A blur of motion from behind the door, strong arms wrapping around his waist in a vice grip, yanking him back against a hard, naked body. Leon's towel slipped free in the struggle, pooling at his feet as he was lifted off the ground for a split second before being slammed face-down onto the bed.
"What the—!" Leon gasped, adrenaline surging. He twisted, trying to elbow his attacker, but the weight on his back was unyielding. Naked skin pressed against his own, hot and slick—Krauser. It had to be. But the major wasn't holding back; his forearm pressed across Leon's shoulders, pinning him down while a knee dug into the back of his thigh, immobilizing him.
"Caught off guard, rookie?" Krauser's voice rumbled low in his ear, laced with dark amusement. He was completely bare, his cock already half-hard against Leon's ass, the heat of him radiating like a furnace. "This is what happens when you let your guard down. An attacker sneaks up, takes what he wants—and you're too busy daydreaming to fight back."
Leon bucked, trying to roll, his training kicking in. He got an arm free and swung back, aiming for Krauser's ribs, but the major anticipated it, grabbing his wrist and twisting it up behind his back just shy of pain. "Let me go, you bastard!" Leon snarled, but there was a edge of excitement under the frustration—he knew this was part of it, another twisted lesson, but damn if it didn't make his blood run hot.
Krauser laughed, a rough sound that vibrated through Leon's body. He leaned in closer, stubble scraping Leon's cheek. "Fight me, Kennedy. Prove you can handle an assailant who wants more than your life. Who wants this—" He ground his hips forward, his hardening length sliding between Leon's cheeks, teasing without entering. "—and isn't gonna ask nicely."
The challenge ignited something primal in Leon. He heaved upward with all his strength, using his legs for leverage, managing to throw Krauser off balance for a moment. They rolled across the bed, a tangle of limbs and grunts. Leon landed a knee to Krauser's thigh, hard enough to bruise, and scrambled to get on top. But Krauser was bigger, stronger, years of combat experience turning him into a machine. He flipped them effortlessly, slamming Leon back down on his stomach, this time with both wrists pinned above his head in one massive hand.
"Pathetic," Krauser growled, his free hand roaming down Leon's side, fingers digging into muscle like he was testing for weaknesses. Leon thrashed, kicking out, but Krauser hooked a leg over his, locking him in place. "All that training, and you can't even fight off one guy? What kind of rookie are you? Just gonna spread your legs for anyone who pins you?"
"Fuck you," Leon spat, but his voice cracked as Krauser's hand slid lower, cupping his ass possessively. He was hard despite himself—or because of it—the humiliation twisting into arousal. He bucked again, almost freeing a hand, but Krauser bore down harder, his weight crushing the air from Leon's lungs.
Krauser's fingers dipped between Leon's legs, finding him still slick from earlier, from the gym. He pushed two fingers in roughly, no warning, curling them deep. Leon arched with a choked moan, the intrusion burning in the best way. "Look at you, already wet and ready. Like a goddamn barrack bunny, hopping from bunk to bunk." Krauser's tone was mocking, degrading, but his cock throbbed against Leon's thigh, betraying how much it turned him on too. "Can't even pretend you don't want it. Struggling like a little slut, but your body's begging."
Leon twisted his head, glaring over his shoulder. "I'm not—ah!" Krauser added a third finger, stretching him wide, thrusting in and out with brutal efficiency. Leon's hips jerked involuntarily, grinding back despite his protests. He tried to headbutt Krauser, but the major dodged easily, grabbing a fistful of Leon's damp hair and yanking his head back, exposing his throat.
"Try harder," Krauser taunted, teeth grazing Leon's earlobe before biting down. His fingers withdrew, leaving Leon empty and aching, only to be replaced by the blunt head of his cock. He didn't thrust in yet—just pressed, teasing, letting the anticipation build until Leon was trembling beneath him. "Show me you deserve to be in this unit. Fight me off, or admit you're just here to get fucked."
Leon surged with renewed effort, using every ounce of strength to try and buck Krauser off. He got a leg free, kicked back, connecting with Krauser's shin—hard enough to make the major grunt in pain. For a second, it worked; Krauser's grip loosened, and Leon rolled halfway out from under him. But Krauser recovered lightning-fast, tackling him back down, this time face-up on the bed. He straddled Leon's hips, pinning his arms to the sides with his knees, cock heavy and leaking against Leon's stomach.
"Nice try," Krauser said, breathless but smirking. His hand wrapped around Leon's throat—not choking yet, just holding, thumb pressing over the racing pulse. "But not good enough." He squeezed lightly, enough to make Leon's vision fuzz at the edges, the pressure sending a dark thrill straight to his groin. Leon's cock twitched, trapped between them, pre-cum smearing across Krauser's skin.
Krauser leaned down, capturing Leon's mouth in a savage kiss, all teeth and dominance, while he aligned himself. With one merciless thrust, he buried himself inside, the slick from earlier easing the way but not enough to dull the burn. Leon cried out into the kiss, back arching off the bed, but Krauser didn't let up—he started moving immediately, deep and punishing, each snap of his hips driving Leon into the mattress.
"Pathetic rookie," Krauser rasped, pulling back to watch Leon's face contort in pleasure-pain. He tightened his grip on Leon's throat, restricting air just enough to heighten every sensation. "Can't fight me off, so now you're gonna take it like the barrack whore you are. Bouncing on every cock that comes your way, huh? Bet you'd let the whole squad have a turn if I ordered it."
Leon gasped for breath, hands clawing at Krauser's arms, leaving red welts, but he couldn't dislodge him. The words stung, humiliated him, but fuck—they made him harder, made him clench around Krauser's cock like he was made for it. "N-no... sir... I—"
Krauser yanked his hair back harder, forcing Leon's neck to arch, exposing more throat for his teeth to mark. Bites turned to bruises as he fucked deeper, pace relentless, the bed creaking under them. "Liar. Look at you, moaning like a bitch in heat. Pathetic. Weak. But you feel so fucking good—tight little hole just for me."
Leon's world narrowed to the points of contact: the hand on his throat stealing his breath, the fist in his hair controlling his every move, the thick cock splitting him open over and over. He struggled one last time, hips bucking not just to fight but to meet each thrust, chasing the edge. Krauser's free hand wrapped around Leon's cock, stroking roughly, thumb circling the head.
"Come on, bunny," Krauser growled, voice fraying at the edges as his own release built. "Come while I choke the fight out of you. Prove you're mine."
The command, the pressure, the degradation—it all crashed over Leon like a wave. He came with a strangled cry, vision whiting out, spilling hot between them in messy pulses. His body clamped down, milking Krauser, who followed with a roar, thrusting erratically as he filled Leon deep.
Krauser collapsed over him, hand loosening from Leon's throat, allowing sweet air to rush back in. They lay there, sweat-slick and panting, Krauser's weight a grounding force. After a moment, he rolled off, pulling Leon against his side almost possessively.
"Not bad," Krauser murmured, fingers carding through Leon's hair more gently now. "But next time, fight harder. Or I'll make the lesson even rougher."
Leon, voice hoarse, managed a weak grin. "Yes, sir." Deep down, he hoped the lessons never ended.