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It was like being toyed with, like a lab rat in a cage.
Trials in general felt like that usually, but being pit against the Doctor only amplified the feeling. Leon had given up on this round of trying to parse it out when a third shock ripped through him as though its goal were to tear him apart, drawing a scream from his already hoarse throat. It was always the same, and with how close the quarters were here in the meat plant, this felt like the hundredth time he’d ran through the cycle: shock one, discomfort, shock two, hallucinations, the kind of pain you grit out through your teeth and keep pressing on, shock three, well…
His vision feels like it's swimming, his sense of hearing completely shot, his limbs feel unstable as he carries himself up the stairs and around a corner, finally giving out on him as he presses his back against a wall and sending him to the floor. He clutches his head in his hands, breathing in deep through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to ignore the way those breaths shake with the pain. It feels like ages sitting in that corner, eyes clamped shut, ears filled with voices, body wracked with pain, but it does pass, like it always does.
Passes just in time for him to hear the uncanny thunder of his last remaining ally being lifted up through the ceiling.
“Fuuuuck.” He groans, using the wall to help brace his weight as he makes his way to his feet–an aid that’s absolutely needed as, now that the ringing in his ears and the racing of his mind are gone, the throbbing pain of the swing he’d taken earlier is finally hitting. He was severely regretting his choice of dress today, the thinner leather jacket and form fitting black shirt offered no real protection against the spiked club that had ripped through his side.
Leon presses his forehead against the cool metal wall, presses his hand against the bleeding wound, takes another deep breath–tries to stifle the whimper that follows–and finally begins to move. His only option now is hatch, and he needs to find it before the Doctor does. He limps through the warehouse, down the stairs, peeking in every hall and corridor he passes, all with no sign of the killer nearby. He’s nearly scoped out the entire lower layer, nearly let his nervousness at the silence get to him, when he finally spots it: a black door splayed open and rolling thick, dark fog over the floor.
“Oh thank god.” He breathes out in a relieved whimper, his pace quickening and his eyes locked ahead. If he’d bothered to take a quick glance around, he would have seen the Doctor before the man reached out and grabbed his arm, seen him standing silently between two stacks of boxes, watching him the moment he entered the hall. Instead, Leon only makes the realization once his back has hit the concrete wall, knocking the wind out of him and sending him crumpling back to the floor in the same spot where his attacker had just been hiding.
The heartbeat in his ears picks up now that the Doctor has moved, the killer standing in the way of his only exit and boxing him in, staring down at him with those frightful, glowing eyes. He leans forward, right elbow bracing on the boxes while his left reaches up to pull his restraints from his mouth, then his eyes. He speaks once freed, voice low and rough.“‘ Oh thank god ’ indeed.”
Confusion coats Leon’s features as he stares up at the man, immobile on the floor beneath him. There…was no way he just talked , was there? He had to have shocked him again before he grabbed him, or had he just not battled off the madness as well as he thought? He lifts his free hand to rub at his face, jumping at the laugh that bellows out from above.
“What is it, agent Kennedy? Have you finally lost it? Hearing things? ”
No, this was absolutely a voice he hadn’t heard before. If this was just his mind providing frightening voices to hear, it would likely be the voice of someone he knew, not something entirely new.
“And here I was thinking you had a clear head.”
“I do have a clear head, thank you very much.” His eyes open and he meets the Doctor’s gaze with a scowl. “You wouldn’t have taken that damn thing out of your mouth if you weren’t actually talking to me.”
“That’s good to hear.” A grin curls over his lips, somehow more eerie than his usual mouth gear. “I was starting to wonder if I’d shocked all your smarts out of you.”
“What’s it matter?” He nods just past the killer, towards the hook just down the adjacent hall. “Smarts don’t mean shit when you’re tossed on a hook.”
“I wasn’t planning on tossing you on a hook.”
“Then what were you planning?”
“That was dependent on how much cognisance you retained.”
Leon groans. “You’re a real delight to chat with, y’know that?”
“So I’ve been told.” The Doctor stands up straight again, though only in transition as he kneels down to Leon’s level, arms braced against the boxes on either side of him. “What do you think I should do with you? I hadn’t been considering a hook, but if that’s what you’d like–”
“No, no, I’m good, thanks.” Leon waves his hand between the two of them dismissively. He ignores the killer’s chuckle in response, taking a moment to push himself to sit up a little straighter, get more into position to get up and leave if given the chance. “If you’re leaving it up to me, then I’d say step aside and I’ll be on my way.”
The Doctor hums. “And where’s the fun in that?”
“You took out the other three, that not enough fun for you?”
“A couple pitiful shocks and weak chases are hardly enough to entertain. The lot of you hardly managed to get a single generator repaired by my third kill.” He tilts his head.
“So what? You want a little more fun and you’ll let me go then?” The other’s grin only widens, making Leon groan yet again and rest his head back against the wall. “Something tells me I won’t like your idea of ‘fun’.”
“I’m a man of many hobbies, you know.”
“Do you happen to like knitting?” The snarky comment comes out before Leon has the chance to consider its consequences, his mind too preoccupied with debates on whether the hook would be a more merciful punishment.
The Doctor’s gaze flattens, lowers, and before Leon can react he’s dropped a knee to the floor and is leaning forward, using his new angle to reach out and brutally push down on Leon’s wounded side. The survivor chokes out a groan, a noise that fades into a whimper as the killer grinds his palm down further, very likely bruising the hand trapped between him and his target.
“You asked early what it mattered if you kept your smarts, yes? I’ll tell you what it matters, agent Kennedy–this.” His hand relinquishes, but only long enough to bat Leon’s away and replace it with his own, his fingers digging cruelly into the torn flesh. Leon’s aching hand wraps around the Doctor’s wrist, all his efforts to pry him off seeming weak compared to the Doctor’s enhanced strength. He’s practically moaning at the pain, regretting his decision to back himself further against the wall as the position has given him very little room to move away. “Yes, yes, that exactly. I’ve seen and heard so many reactions to various forms of pain in my years–but it’s been so long since I’ve had a subject be so vocal, sound so pleased. ”
He’s leaning in closer, too close, Leon turns his head to keep as much distance as he can. The Doctor lets a crackle of electricity loose against the wound–nothing crazy–just enough to make Leon yelp, make his wound sting further.
“So tell me then,” He’s whispering with how close he is, “Do you like it? Has sustaining so many injuries over the years crossed some wires in your brain? I have to know, it’s not something I can probe for on my own.”
“No I–” Leon’s further rejection of the notion fades into another noise of pleasure as electricity courses through him again. It’s not the same as the shocks the killer put forth during the trial, his head remains so clear; it’s all just physical sensation, lighting up his nerves with searing pain, cauterizing his wounds. “P-please.” He chokes the word out through a tight jaw.
“Please what?”
“Please stop. ”
The Doctor chuckles again, leaning back and assessing Leon for a brief moment. He’s about to try kicking the killer away when suddenly the hand on his wound retracts, instead replacing itself on his throat and lifting him up as the Doctor stands. Leon scrambles, legs flailing for purchase on the smooth floor, only finding it after he’s slammed back against the wall, air knocked from him yet again. He expects a shock to follow, expects that hand to clamp down and keep him from refilling his lungs, but instead he only finds himself being held there on his shaking legs.
He sucks in a breath. “ And let go of me.”
“I don’t think I’ll be doing that.” The Doctor clips his club back to his belt as he speaks. “If all this moaning and whimpering isn’t indicative of enjoyment, then shouldn’t we figure out its cause?”
“We don’t–” His now freed hand grabs hold of Leon’s free wrist, gripping it tightly and sending electricity in against his veins, harsh enough now that it pulls a proper scream from him. It’s not enough to distract the Doctor from the way his knees bend inward. He lifts a brow.
“What’s this then?” He leans forward, nudging Leon’s knees apart with his own.
“Hey–you–” Leon breathes out shakily and removes his hand from the Doctor’s wrist, balling it and bringing it down with as much force as he can. The killer doesn't even wince. “You can’t fucking–”
“I can’t fucking what?”
He practically growls as he tries to steady his voice, so much electricity bouncing around within him making it hard to speak. “You can’t fucking…go apeshit on my nervous system and get all cocky when you get a response.”
The way the Doctor’s grin curls up makes his stomach sink. “So I’m right then, aren’t I?”
“That’s not–” Leon can feel the heat building against his wrist, another shock on the way, “It’s not fucking that! It’s not that so stop!” The heat dies down.
“Then what is ‘it’?”
Leon’s eyes float up towards the ceiling. Rock and a hard place, it seemed, and while the idea of admitting his arousal at the way the killer had him pinned was absolutely not something he wanted to consider, it was very quickly becoming the only remaining option for survival. That’s what this was–good ol’ survival instinct–pounded into him plenty of times by other killers, other enemies, the like, by no means an indication of any sort of preference or anything like that. All survival.
“You…mentioned you might be willing to let me go after a little more fun, right?”
“I believe you were the one who made that assertion, but yes.”
“Then…” He hesitates, swallowing thickly through the hand on his throat. In the name of survival, not for the way heat was pooling in his gut, not for the way a flush was creeping up his neck, for survival, that was it. “Perhaps we make a deal?”
The Doctor is chuckling again. Leon lets his gaze drop back down to meet his eye and he can’t help the curse that rolls off his tongue–the other’s giving him that knowing look, his reputation seems to be proceeding him. “What deal are you looking to make?”
“Don’t fucking–” That knee is inching further up, parting Leon’s thighs as it goes. He scowls at the killer. “You clearly know what’s up.”
“Maybe I do,” His thumb lifts, catching on Leon’s jaw and pushing it aside as he leans in close to his ear, “Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”
Leon’s gaze is fixed on the ceiling again, his breath halting for just a second at those words but it’s still a second too long. “I guess all you assholes talk, huh?” He murmurs.
“Not all, but enough.” His lips brush against the shell of Leon’s ear. “Better hurry, my patience is wearing thin and I’ve got a hook with your name on it.”
He shudders, squirming in the Doctor’s hold. His knee is pressed up against his clothed sex now, surely feeling the heat radiating against him; there’s no putting this off any longer. Leon sighs, closes his eyes, and whispers out. “I give you my body, you give me hatch.”
“ Deal. ”
The word is hardly even off his lips by the time they’ve connected to flesh just below Leon’s ear. The Doctor’s hand on his throat relinquishes, sliding out of the way of his hungry mouth as it explores his throat, instead trailing downwards, running over top of his thin shirt. He hums against Leon’s throat, delighted by how little it leaves to his imagination.
Leon lets out a shaky whimper, his hand falling from the Doctor’s wrist, hanging loosely at his side. Without that hand on his throat helping to support his weight, he finds himself balanced on his trembling legs and the knee pressed up between them. Every little involuntary twitch and very voluntary squirm sends small jolts of pleasure up his spine–that along with the ravaging of his neck and the thumb now brushing against his peaking nipple are enough to pull a real moan of pleasure from him.
The Doctor’s lips and tongue moves upwards, over his jaw and along his chin until he’s hovering right against Leon’s–a silent request that Leon’s quick to oblige as he crashes them together. The kiss is fervent, sloppy, eager from both parties; Leon’s back arches up as the killer takes his bottom lip and rolls it between his teeth. He lets go of Leon’s wrist in favor of situating the hand on his waist, fingertips tracing along the hem of his shirt teasingly. The survivor’s arms lift, his forearms coming to rest on the Doctor’s broad shoulders.
He’s so damn vocal, soft moans and whimpers caught and devoured in the killer’s mouth–and he’s hardly even gotten his hands on him. The Doctor pulls back, thumb circling the raised bud beneath his shirt and his knee grinding upwards, lips parting in time to hear Leon’s full choked moan.
“It’s a good thing no one else is around, lord only knows how loud you’re going to get once I’ve actually started playing with you.” A grin spreads across his lips, one that Leon doesn’t care to see and instead covers with his own. The Doctor allows it, but only for a moment, pulling back further this time and sending a spark out through his fingertips that draws a startled yelp out of the survivor. “So damn eager, you really are a whore.”
Leon whimpers involuntarily at the words, his gaze distant over the Doctor’s shoulder, his hips grinding back down in time with his knee. He swallows thickly and lets out a breathy laugh, head falling a bit and loose bangs covering his eyes. “I’ve been…told I put on a good show.”
“Mm, that’s all then?” The hand moves from his chest, sliding down to align with his other, both catching the hem of the dark fabric and pushing it upwards. Leon lifts himself off the wall a bit, back arching and providing the room for the garment to be pushed up as far as it can. The empty warehouse air is cold, he can’t help the shudder that runs through him–blames it on that instead of the hands tracing over his firm muscles.
Those hands slide back down, taking firm hold of his hips, stopping his grinding and stabilizing him while the Doctor takes control of Leon’s pleasure. He moans out, trying to fight against the strong grip but it's no use. He wants more, wants those strong hands on him, wants those lips met back with his own–it's the only thing he’s able to push for, his arms wrapping around the Doctor’s neck and trying to pull him in. He leans out off the wall, meeting him halfway and whining against his lips when the man doesn’t kiss him back.
Instead, he steps forward, his clothed chest pushing back on Leon’s bare one, pushing him back until he’s pinned between the wall and his body. He stands up a bit straighter, lips out of reach from Leon’s–even his hands and knee have stopped, only in place now to keep him trapped where he was. He’s quiet for so long, long enough that Leon’s lips part and he inhales, about to speak. It’s only then that the killer finally breaks the quiet.
“I don’t buy it.”
“Don’t buy what?” Leon’s squirming in his hold, hips held so tight he can’t get much of any friction, the closest he can get to pleasure being the rough fabric of the Doctor’s coat lapels against his chest.
“And I’m not sure you do either.”
“What are you–?”
He’s cut off by the hand that relinquishes his hip, instead rising to take hold of his jaw, force his head up, force him to look the Doctor in the eye.
“You’re an open book, Leon Kennedy, there’s no need to lie, not even to yourself.”
With only one hand on his hip, Leon manages a bit more of a squirm, still not enough for anything, but it's more than he’d been able to manage before. A shock rushes out from the hand still planted there, hot, fast; his back arches up as much as he’s allowed as he verbalizes his pain.
“If this were all just a show I wouldn’t have heard so much about you, you wouldn’t be squirming around like a slut desperate for my touch.”
“I’m not–” The knee between his legs and the hand on his hip both retract at once. The Doctor shuffles back just slightly, just enough room to move that hand between them, to cup Leon’s heated groin. There’s nothing stopping him from grinding down, nothing but his own rejection, which even then only makes his hips stutter a moment before they’re searching for friction. That hand backs away the moment his hips move, too far now to do much of anything for him.
“You say you want it and I’ll give it to you.”
Leon whines.
“Tell me you want me to touch you and I will.”
“That’s…”
The Doctor’s hand rises, finger’s toying with Leon’s belt. “What? You don’t want it?”
“No, no, I do–”
“Then speak.”
His throat feels like it's constricting around the words. It’s heat in the Doctor’s fingertips that finally spurs them out. “Please, I want you to touch me.”
“Is it that hard to be a good boy?” His fingers make quick work of the belt, quick work of the fastenings of his jeans; he angles his hand to slide between both layers of fabric, cupping his sex and running a long finger down his clothed slit. Leon moans out at the touch, his hips bearing down against the digit, pushing it past his lips.
“This is exactly what I mean, Leon, you’re just lying to yourself, denying yourself the pleasure you so clearly want.” That finger makes contact–albeit not direct–with his clit, circling it slowly and working at its own pace despite Leon’s hips. “It’s a good thing you’ve got me to train that out of you. You’ll be good for me, yes?”
Leon tries to nod within his grip.
“You’ll speak when I tell you to, yes ?” His fingers tighten on Leon’s jaw.
He wets his lips. “Yes.”
“Good.” The word is practically purred out. His hand slides back out, coming to rest on Leon’s waist while his eyes flick downward. He moves away a little more, only his fingers on Leon’s jaw keeping him in place now as he issues his order. “Get those out of my way.”
Despite that hand, Leon attempts a nod, his arms quickly falling from the Doctor’s shoulders and pushing his loosened belt, jeans, and boxers down around his knees.
“That’s good for now. I want your hands behind your back.” His hands tuck back, just as he’s told, one atop the other, now pinned between his own body and the wall. The Doctor releases his hold on his chin, removes his hand from his waist, stepping back to his original position at the edge of the boxes. His eyes rake over Leon’s nude torso, drawing an involuntary shudder from him. Leon drops his gaze to the floor, heat rising on his cheeks. Even without looking he can still feel the Doctor’s hungry eyes taking in every inch of him.
He swallows. “You just gonna stare at me then?”
“Can you really blame me for wanting a moment to take in the sight of you?”
“Y–”
“I’m not even holding you back anymore, haven’t even told you that you have to stay. Hell–” His weight shifts, Leon looks up and watches him lean against the stack on his right, leaving plenty of room for him to escape on the left, “You could make a break for it right now, and yet you don’t. Isn’t that fascinating?”
He inhales, breath shallow and shaky. “Not as fascinating as actually getting on with it.”
“Mm, right, right.” The Doctor moves in again, bracing his weight on one forearm pressed against the wall above Leon, his other hand finding its way back to his sex. He presses his lips to Leon’s neck as he runs a digit along his slit, dipping in and brushing his clit lightly. “I suppose this is what you’re here for, isn’t it?” He whispers the words just below Leon’s ear. “Escape hardly matters when I could be playing with you like this, yes?”
Leon’s torso is already trembling, his hips trying to grind down on the finger playing with him so gently. He swallows down a whine. The finger moves away, he can feel the Doctor’s lips part, knows exactly the admonishment he’s about to receive. He practically spits the words out with how quickly they leave his lips. “Yes, yes, it is.”
Instead, the Doctor’s lips close, press a soft kiss to his neck, and his fingers dip back in, rubbing circles on his clit with such fervor it makes his knees weak. Leon slides slightly down the wall, catching himself and moaning out. The Doctor takes this moment of overwhelming pleasure to bite down on his throat and suck a deep bruise on the tender flesh.
“Oh fuck–” A shudder runs up his spine.
The Doctor releases the reddened spot, humming pleasantly at his work. “My name is Herman.” He whispers it out before taking hold of a nearby patch of unmarked skin.
“Oh fuck Herman !” That gets a chuckle from the man in question, one that Leon doesn’t get the chance to appreciate as all his attention is focused on grinding on those fingers.
“It feels good then?” He drags his tongue over the bruises; the hot breath that follows makes Leon whimper.
“Yes, yes, yes…” His breathing is getting erratic, moans and whimpers and whines of pleasure pouring out of him like a fountain. He can feel the heat building in the pit of his stomach, all previous notions of denying his enjoyment of this lost as he chases after release–a sensation that comes sooner than he’d anticipated. His back arches up, hands pressing back against the wall, and a low groan filling the air around them as he came. “Oh my fucking god–!”
Herman’s fingers keep circling with that same intensity until Leon begins to relax back against the wall, his legs trembling and his body shaking with each lap they make around his clit. Even then he doesn’t let up much, still toying with him idly as he speaks. “Unbelievable. You really are a slut, Leon, we’ve hardly even begun and you’re already cumming on just my fingers? And to think, you tried to tell me you weren’t.” He clicks his tongue.
Leon’s head leans back, resting against the wall. His breathing is ragged, deep, he lifts his hips to try and move away from those fingers playing with his oversensitive clit. “S’not my fault.” His eyes meet Herman’s as the man leans back a bit to straighten up. “You’re the one playing with me.”
The killer hums lowly, his fingers moving away. He stares at Leon for a long moment, considers his options, and raises his hand up to trace a finger over Leon’s lips. “Such a smart mouth on you.” His thumb catches on Leon’s lower lip, pulling it down and opening his mouth. “You cum on my fingers and blame me for it? And here I’d thought you’d at least be a little grateful.”
“I am grateful.” Leon speaks around the finger probing at his tongue, drawing it out over his lip.
“How am I to know that?” Herman raises a brow. “You’ve been nothing but a smartass since.”
“Let me make it up to you?” His lips close around his thumb, tongue stroking its underside.
“Oh you’ll make it up to me.” He pulls his thumb from Leon’s mouth with a wet pop, situating his hand on Leon’s hip and sending a shock through him that finally pushes his knees to give out on him. He crumples to the floor, arms unable to move out from behind his back fast enough to catch him; his only saving grace is the wall at his back and the hand Herman pushes into his hair. “Alright then, go on, you seem to know what you want.”
With a bit of shuffling to get up on his weak knees, Leon found himself at eye level with the growing bulge in Herman’s pants. He wet his lips and leaned in, mouthing at its shape through his clothes while his hands worked at the fastenings holding it back. He leans back again when it comes time to pull said clothes down, though its nearly not far enough as his lengthy cock springs out from the garments and almost smacks him in the face. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, assessing what he’s working with and admiring Herman’s cock.
“Well, you just gonna stare at me then?” The man above him teases, meeting Leon’s scowl with a grin.
“Hilarious.” Is all Leon offers as a response, his left hand closing around Herman’s base while his mouth peppers wet kisses along the right side of his head. Herman’s own hand slides around to the back of Leon’s head, guiding him in closer as he begins to stroke down his length.
He’s huge, one of the longer and girthier members Leon’s serviced with his mouth, he idly wonders just how much he’ll actually be able to take as his tongue circles its head. His right hand comes up to take hold of his balls, a distraction Leon kneads for just a moment as he takes in a deep breath and begins the plunge. He can feel the precum beading and spreading on his tongue as he takes him further in, can hear the low groan from above and feel the way his hand tightens in his hair. Herman purrs out above him. “There you go, take it all in.”
Leon knows he can’t, there’s no way he could, his jaw is already straining at his girth and his head is nearing the back of his throat and he’s not even got him halfway down. He breathes out shakily around his cock and hollows his cheeks, moving his head and hand in time to work with what he can. Herman seems to appreciate it, humming out his sounds of pleasure even as he tries to guide Leon down further.
He hardly has the chance to get a pace set before Herman’s gently rocking with him, not pushing him any further than Leon had gone on his own, but pulling lewd slurping sounds and spit from between his reddening lips. He pushes his thighs together, already worked up enough that he’d consider reaching down to touch himself if not for his hands being full.
Herman hums above him. “It’s a shame you won’t try to take any more. I’ve heard so much about how lovely of a fuck your mouth is.”
Leon squirms. It’s by no means a command, it’s not even a request, he’s simply stated his desire, and yet…As Herman’s hips roll forward he meets them with a further push, can feel the way the cock dips downward towards his throat. His nostrils flare as he takes in each breath, takes each roll forward as a chance to try and suck more of him down; he makes it just slightly over the halfway point before his gag reflex revolts and he pulls back sharply. That hand on the back of his head doesn’t let him pull all the way off, just back far enough for him to recover, just far enough that Leon’s whimper can still be felt through his cock.
“A valiant effort.” Herman praises, pushing back in again once Leon shows interest once more. “Again.”
Leon whines, lifts his hand from Herman’s sack to brace against his hip, pushing back against his shallow thrusts. Curiosity is the only thing that keeps Herman from just pushing him back against the wall and forcing himself down his throat, instead he stills and meets Leon’s eyes as the survivor dips down to take in as much as he can. Tears prick at the corners of his vision, his shallow breaths and soft whines keeping that reflex at bay for just seconds longer than his first attempt. When he pulls back this time Herman’s hand allows for a full release.
He pants against the length, nuzzling it with his cheek and pressing kisses along its sides while he recovers his breath, waiting for that praise to come a second time. But it doesn’t, all that comes is a smirk and a chuckle.
“You should see yourself right now, getting all worked up from choking around my cock.” His hand lifts, carding through Leon’s hair softly. “We’ll have to save the rest of that for another time.”
Leon’s brow furrows in confusion. “Wh–?”
“Get up.” Before he has the chance to complain Herman has stepped away, moving out from the alcove and off to the side where a second stack of boxes only stands around waist height. Leon’s quick to follow, bracing his weight against the wood and following Herman’s guiding hands to lean over the stack.
Herman’s fingers hook into his bunched clothes around his knees and pull them the rest of the way down, his hands pushing Leon’s feet further apart before they trail back up his bare legs. He shudders at the sensation, sticking his ass out further as Herman’s hands approach it, a gesture he welcomes as he gropes the soft flesh, drawing a moan out of Leon.
“Careful there, Kennedy,” His voice is low and teasing as he spreads his cheeks, his thumbs moving down to probe at his lips, “You’re so worked up it looks like you might drip out onto the floor.” His sex twitches at the words, his hips moving backwards just slightly to try and get more touch from those fingers holding him apart.
Herman moves in, so close now that Leon can feel the heat radiating off him, but from the angle he has over the box he’s facing the wall and can’t see much. His hips roll back again, dripping cunt making contact with Herman’s hard cock. He lets out a startled moan at the sensation.
“What do you want?” His hands hold him a little more firm, keeping those hips from making contact yet again. He’s so close now, so close and Leon wants him so badly.
“Please…”
“What do you want?”
Leon whimpers, head dropping over the other side of the crate. One of Herman’s hands comes up to grip onto his blond hair and wrench his head back up.
“Speak.”
“Please fuck me, I want it so bad.” He practically sobs it out, looking back at Herman over his shoulder and moaning out as the Doctor finally lets his cock run between his lips. “Please–oh god please–”
“Are you going to show your gratitude this time?” He’s grinding back and forth so slowly, it's driving Leon crazy. He pulls back a bit further on his hair, Leon’s back arching up as his chest lifts from the wood.
“Yes, yes, I will, I promise.” He whines as the length against him slides away, but it's only long enough for Herman to line up and push through, sinking his full length in one, wet, thrust. Leon’s thanks is moaned out so loud it would likely be heard from the complete other side of the warehouse.
Herman releases the grip he has on Leon’s hair, letting him fall back limply against the box. His fingers are gripping the edge, white knuckling it as Herman begins to move, his pace brutal and echoing wet slaps down the hall. At first its far too much, noises trapping in Leon’s throat and coming out choked and mangled, mixing lewdly with the sounds of his dripping cunt being fucked. Herman leans forward and groans against his shoulder.
“Do you hear all that, Kennedy? Do you hear just how wet and eager your cunt is for my cock? It’s far more truthful than you are, let me in with no resistance at all, it’s practically been begging for me this whole time, hasn’t it?”
Words are beyond Leon in the moment, all he can do is moan and nod.
“This is right where you belong, gushing and moaning like a whore on my cock, isn’t it? Tell me how much you like it, Leon.” His pace slows just slightly, an attempt to get Leon’s voice back.
It takes so much longer than it should, each attempt at words being lost to noises of pleasure that escape his throat. Herman nearly has to stop entirely before he’s able to contain himself long enough to pant out. “It feels good, so good, so so good, please…”
“That’s a good boy.” Herman purrs, one hand bracing against the box and the other reaching down across Leon’s chest to hoist him up, pressing him up against his own chest. The new angle and return of Herman’s pace makes words leave him once more–not for lack of trying, it's just that every attempt at words is mumbled out and slurred together in an incomprehensible manner.
“Oh look at you, trying so hard. It’s hard isn’t it? Can hardly even think about anything other than my cock, too stupified by your own pussy to talk anymore?” Leon nods as he moans, pressing his head back against Herman’s neck, earning a groan from the man above him as he leans down to bite at Leon’s clothed shoulder. “What a slut, what a fucking slut.”
His hips still, cock still buried deep within Leon, and he shifts his grip to fully lift him away from the boxes. Leon’s eyes flutter open in time to see the floor quick approaching, just in time to brace himself with his arms to help ease the landing as Herman presses him down onto the cold concrete right beside the whistling hatch. He presses Leon’s shoulder down, keeps his chest and head pressed down against the floor while he adjusts his hip up, the angle in his back cruel but not unbearable.
“Ass out, there you go, just like that.” His hand lifts from Leon’s shoulder, planting just behind his head on the floor. He pulls his hips back slowly, cock backing out inch by inch, only to push back in with that same pace, slow and teasing. “I’ll give you a choice, dear Leon, and I want you to think nice and hard about it, alright?”
“Mmm…” Leon nods. His eyes are locked on the hatch beside his head, on the dark mist that pours from it and swirls with each breath he takes, drawing in closer with each inhale only to be swept away in turn.
“You’ve been in such denial, so resistant until I get my hands on you, but I know you know the truth, don’t you? Surely you’ve seen how quickly you melt beneath my touch, how badly you want to please–there’s a reason word has gotten around about you, hm? I could see it in your eyes at the start of all this, could see you lying to yourself. Tell me what you’d say.”
Leon exhales a shaky breath, head curling down towards his shoulder.
“ ‘It's a deal, right? That’s all it is.’ ” Herman leans down further, whispers it in his ear. “‘ I do this, I get out, I don’t think about it too hard and hope it doesn’t happen again.’ But it does happen again, doesn’t it?” His hips snap forward, Leon grunts. “Over and over and over again.”
He leans up then, looking down at Leon who doesn’t meet his eye. “So here’s your choice then: you keep that sense of pride intact, you crawl out through that hatch and you don’t look back, or,” His hand runs over Leon’s hip softly, “You admit to me that you’re a slut and I’ll treat you like one.”
The hatch is well within reach, his hand planted near his shoulder is inches away. But Herman is well within reach, too, still buried to the hilt within him. He’d have to pull himself off to leave, fall into that dark mist feeling so very empty without him.
“If you’re hesitating, haven’t you already made up your mind? You could have slipped out the moment I took my hand off your shoulder, I haven’t been holding you down.”
Now that he really assessed his position, Herman wasn’t holding him down, in fact he’d braced all his weight off to the side away from the hatch. The only thing keeping him in place was his cock, and even that he could easily slip away from. The only real thing that kept him here was–
“Just say it, Leon, say it and I’ll make you cum on my cock, I know you want to.”
Leon whimpers, his hips grinding back against Herman’s. He does want it, he really does.
“Please…” The word is near inaudible with how quiet he whispers it.
“Speak up.”
“ Please .” He tries again, slightly louder this time.
“Better.”
“Please just fuck me like the slut I am.”
Herman chuckles, leans back down close to Leon’s ear. His hand gently stroking his hip takes hold now, grip so harsh it would likely bruise.
“ What a good boy .”
The next few motions happen so fast Leon can barely process them, too focused on the brutal pace Herman sets in his pounding. His hips begin to move, he sits up, he takes that bruising grip on both of Leon’s hips, he’s muttering praise and humiliation that Leon can barely hear over the sound of their bodies meeting and his own loud moans. His fingers try to dig into the smooth concrete, the need for some purchase to keep from sliding against the floor. They find their purchase in the hatch frame, inky blackness spilling cooly out over his warm hands and only further reminding him of his place.
Herman was right: this was where he belonged, a tight hole for him to fuck and a throat raw for him to sing his pleasure from. That was why he kept getting into these situations, why he wouldn’t leave even without a hand forcing him to stay; Herman saw right through that mask he’d been trying to hide behind, even when he couldn’t see through it himself.
“Fucked stupid–”
He hears it above all the noise, knows it’s true. He could only keep composed enough to talk when Herman stopped moving, he could feel his own drool pooling against his lips on the floor, hear those wet slaps over and over and over, like the ticking of a metronome keeping each pleasurable sound on beat.
He can feel that heat pooling quick in his gut as he lays undone on the floor, reminding him of Herman’s words. He does want to cum on his cock, wants to clench down around him and ride out his orgasm for as long as Herman will let him. He’s so damn close and–
Suddenly a hand is in his hair, yanking his head to the side, snapping him out of his own pleasure-filled thoughts. “I said–do you want me to fill you up, or should I cover you in my cum?”
Words, he needs words. Leon’s open mouth closes, he swallows the excess saliva gathered there. Herman doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow; he can’t think, let alone speak.
“It’s laughable how dumb I’ve fucked you.” Herman does laugh, speaking again when Leon finally catches his eye. “Can you still even hear me in there?”
It’s a question with a wordless answer, he nods.
“You want it in?”
He nods again.
“You want me to fill you up, send you back with your boxers full of cum?”
He nods more fervently this time. Each word brings him closer and closer to the edge, so much so that when he finally hears Herman utter that last “ Good boy. ” his back arches further and he moans out against the concrete and bliss overtakes him yet again.
He can feel it pull Herman through as well, the man groaning out above him and burying himself in as deep as he can, letting each spasm of Leon’s walls draw wave after wave of white hot cum from him. He can feel it, too, when Herman finally pulls out from him, one of his hands pressing against his sex, an attempt to keep the seed in place while his other wrestles with Leon’s clothes.
There’s nothing Leon can do, too exhausted and blissed out to do anything but pant and lay there and let Herman pull his pants back up. He doesn’t even bother fastening them or pulling his shirt back down, just leans in and presses a kiss to Leon’s parted lips.
“I’d say you’ve earned it, now get the hell out of here, whore.”
His brow furrows, a weak sound of confusion emanating from his throat as Herman stands, pushing at his side with his boot. He’d forgotten about the possibility of escape among all the bliss, forgotten at least until he’s pushed up over the hatch’s frame and he falls into the abyss.
He’s the last from his match to return to camp, disheveled and exhausted and praying he doesn’t still smell of Herman’s cum.