Chapter Text
stage 1
So-
So warm and-
Too much too much so hot and wet and too-
Leon wakes with a moan on his lips, one hand fisted in the pillow next to his head and his body trembling.
When he blinks he sees images, dreams of you behind his eyelids. Flashes of you straddling him with your head thrown back, nails digging into his chest-sweet images of his body curled around yours from behind as his hips grind into you.
His body is pulsing again, throbbing and screaming for attention. It’s a familiar feeling these days, one he’s become accustomed to since he met you. He knows if he looks down there’ll be a small wet patch on his briefs, his spend soaking through the fabric in his desperation, and his mind immediately conjures up a brief fantasy of your tongue lapping at it, at his sensitive bulge.
Leon doesn’t even question it or second guess himself as he rolls onto his side and tugs his other pillow between his legs, thighs cradling it and positioning himself as though you’re really here.
He turns his face to bury it in his mattress as his body starts moving on its own, without even thinking he starts rutting his cock against the soft cotton of it and whimpering to himself. The feeling is incandescent, overwhelming to his feverish brain, material chafing somehow pleasantly against his shaft, brushing over the thick veins and making the head of his cock leak needily.
Three weeks with you, and he’s still humping his pillow every chance he gets.
It’s almost worse in a way, he thinks sometimes. He knows what your hand feels like, he knows how you smile at him when his release decorates your forearm, he knows what your warm, wet mouth feels like-though he doesn’t know that quite as well as the others.
His hips move faster as he recalls the evening a few days before, when you’d kneeled down and situated yourself between his legs as he settled into the sofa. He’d been fidgeting, hands picking at his sweatpants, breathing coming heavier and cock jumping in his briefs at the sight of you before him like that. It’s a common fantasy for him, his cock in your mouth. The most common are his dreams about being able to please and satisfy you, but his imagination often conjures up flashes of you swallowing around his length, images that seem almost too real, that make him tear up and bite his lip as he gets overwhelmed.
Leon moans into his bed as he hooks his leg tighter around the pillow, crushing it against himself as he desperately grinds against it. The mere memory of you smiling up at him as you pulled at the strings on his sweatpants is enough to bring him to the edge in this moment, teetering on it as his mind dances with blurred images of you.
His stomach tenses as he moves, body strung out already and thick globs of precum leaking from his weeping tip.
The only problem was that as soon as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock and sucked, he couldn’t stop himself from throwing his head back against the sofa cushions as he came in your mouth. He’d kissed you afterward, when you reassured him that it was perfectly fine, it was flattering really, there’s always time to learn new things isn’t there? And he’d tasted himself on your lips-no doubt not the most appealing taste he’s ever experienced, yet it somehow made it more real, what you’d just done.
He digs his teeth into his sheets as he moves, bed rocking slightly underneath him as he chases his high, drunk on the memory of your warm mouth. The soft sensation of your tongue swiping against his shaft and how gentle you’d been with him.
He hazily thinks that tonight, maybe tonight he could last longer. It’s a foolish thought but he clings to it nonetheless, pulling on that hope and the desperation to experience you again as he whimpers and tips himself over the edge.
Leon knows tonight won’t be much different, he knows. A few seconds longer, maybe a little more. His foggy pipe dream, a delusion that plagues him as his come spurts wetly into the fabric of his pillow.
Still moving in the aftershocks, he grins to himself as he remembers it’s Friday today-everyone will go out for drinks later, you’ll press your arm against his and ask if he wants to share a cab, and then you’ll get out at the same time as him and follow him into his apartment.
Leon falls still eventually, giving his body a much needed break as he thinks of you. It’s not even just learning about his body, experiencing new things with you, he’s learned about your favorite movies and the shows you watched as a kid, he’s learned why you like that certain type of pen at work rather than the shitty ballpoints they buy, he’s learned about your family and where you grew up, about your friendship (thank fuck) with Chris and his sister Claire. He hasn’t learned enough.
You eat up every part of his day and night, he dreams of you before he wakes and fantasies about you as he goes through his day. He wonders what you’re doing as he types up paperwork, he wonders if you drive as he goes out on patrol, he tries to figure out what you’re annoyed about when he sees you frown at your computer.
He knows he’s going to be jittery all day, just fantasising about what will happen when you’re alone again, but the thought almost excites him now, in contrast to the heavy dread he felt a couple of weeks ago.
Now? Now you’ll make it better-you’ll help him and make him feel better than he ever has, you’ll gently push his hands away when he mumbles to you about trying to make you feel good, tell him there’s always time, when he’s really ready, when he’s more comfortable, then he can try.
Leon pulls back his sheets and glances down at his pillow, tainted with a smeared wet patch on the side of it.
He briefly remembers that he doesn’t have to work today, and experimentally he rolls his hips forward again.
The whimper that leaves him is nothing short of pathetic, weak and needy as his softened cock drags through the mess he made. His visions swims at the stimulation, too much and thrumming through his body like he’s been electrified, weeping cockhead flushed and angry at this satisfying torture he’s inflicting on himself.
Leon’s thighs tremble and shake, trying to squeeze around the pillow, and his eyes blur, briefly thinking again of hooking his legs around yours as he ruts into you from behind.
With a gasp, he rolls back. His dick jumps as his body goes through the aftershocks, laying against his stomach, and he smiles softly, letting his eyes fall shut.
The disappointment hits him just then, the relief of not working giving way to annoyance at not seeing you. He’s hesitant to try and make plans with you outside of work, outside of what you ask him. If he had his way he would have texted you every day for the last couple of weeks, making plans and asking, begging, to see you, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. This thing with you is only a few weeks old, and it’s not even just that. He’s learned so much about himself, about his body and his life and his likes and everything, you started it and you’ve helped him and he can’t let go of this. He can’t do without it just yet, and he most certainly can’t do without you.
Leon rolls out of bed and strips the case from the pillow, grimacing a little and chucking it into the laundry hamper as he pads into the bathroom. He turns the shower on and leaves his phone on the counter, grabbing a new shampoo bottle from the cupboard underneath before stepping under the stream of steaming water.
He closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting his hair soak as his mind wanders.
The wandering takes him back to the previous Friday-the moment at the end of the evening when he’d been trying to subtly watch you, eyes big and round as he waited for you to make a move out of the bar and take him with you, eager to be with you again and maybe even touch you or just feel that fucking good again-
When it had finally happened and when he was standing on the pavement, waiting for you as you chatted to the cab driver about your destination, Chris had stumbled out of the bar behind him as well. He’d fallen into Leon and sloshed quite a bit of beer down the back of his trouser leg, before slinging his arm around the rookie’s shoulders and babbling about Jill doing shots.
You’d come over at that point, tugged on Leon’s arm and pulled him away from Chris, toward the car and the open door as you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, letting him go to say a quick goodbye to the other officer-whose jaw was slack as he watched the interaction.
Leon grins to himself as he massages the shampoo into his hair, thinking about the Monday morning when he and Chris had been slouching against opposite counters in the breakroom, both glugging coffee and only half awake.
Chris had watched him over the rim of his mug, steam wafting up and wetting his forehead amusingly, and told him he’d noticed yknow. He’d seen the looks and the glances, the little touches and hand brushing between you and Leon-he was no fool he knew exactly what had happened.
You had walked in just then and settled against Leon, arm pressing against his and making him all too aware of the small contact. He’d smiled into his coffee as his heart stuttered at your presence, before tuning back in to Chris rambling about how well he knew you and how he figured it out the moment he saw you-until you hummed lowly, raising your eyebrows as you quietly enquired about you only figured it out when I kissed his cheek on Friday night didn’t you? And only because we got a cab together right?
Chris had narrowed his eyes and drunk more coffee, shuffling out of the room as he grumbled at both of you, about it being too early for this shit.
Leon washes himself, avoiding certain sensitive areas, and spends a leisurely time relaxing under the water. The week was difficult, cases piling up and too many patrols, the day when Jill tried to punch someone who dodged and she decked Carlos instead, his body still a little tense and strung out. Naturally, his mind drifts to you and all the ways you would help him relax if you were with him.
His member twitches and he sucks in a sharp breath, wincing and too tired to do anything about what his body is trying to hint at.
As he steps out of the shower, shouting from the apartment next door becomes apparent, no longer hidden by the sound of his shower. Leon raises his eyebrows and pauses, trying to remember the last time his neighbours argued so loudly. A sudden thump echoes through the wall, as though something was thrown against it, and he jerks backward in surprise. He walks backward out of the bathroom and makes a mental note to check on them as he leaves, slightly worried about what the fuck just happened.
Leon finds some underwear, pulling out sweats and a shirt from the draws as he goes. He hums as he moves around his room and dresses slowly, unknowingly to the tune of the song they first played in the bar when you went home with him.
Leon’s stomach grumbles embarrassingly loudly, prompting him to head to his kitchen and scout the cupboards. They’re disappointingly bare, offering him cereal he doesn’t particularly like, a half empty bottle of soy sauce, some unsalted butter and a pot noodle.
He opts for the cereal, pouring a bowl and grabbing a spoon and settling down in front of his tv to, secretly, watch an episode of Bridgerton to start his day.
In his bathroom, his phone buzzes on the countertop, migrating across the surface slightly with every vibration.
Leon doesn’t hear a thing, mere metres away on his couch.
-
Forty minutes later he stands and stretches, dropping his bowl into his kitchen sink before heading back to his bedroom to tug on some jeans. An errand day he thinks, those new socks he’s been meaning to buy, a food shop, and fixing the hinges in his kitchen cupboards-like he meant to do when he moved in.
It’s only after he finishes getting dressed and heads out the door to his car that he realises he’s left his phone behind, huffing and jogging back into the building to grab it before leaving again.
He scrolls through the notifications as he heads to his car, noting that there are, oddly, more than usual.
When he looks up, he notes something else.
Unsettlingly, there’s only three cars in his street. Usually it’s packed, up to 30 or so vehicles crammed into spaces they really shouldn’t be and depriving him of a parking space. But now, his car sits idly in front of his building, another sits empty at the end of the road-and most strangely of all, a beat up car a few metres behind his with the bonnet open. It’s not turned on, the engine isn’t running. The front is just propped open, waiting for someone to come and fix it.
He smells smoke.
Leon jogs over to the car, stopping and hovering his hand over the engine in the open bonnet. Cold.
Furrowing his brow, he turns and walks to the building next door, intending to ask about the argument this morning and if they need help with their car. He knocks, waits a minute, and knocks again. Quiet.
He turns, lips pressed together in confusion, to his car, but a flickering orange light catches his attention.
Leon walks to the end of the street, clutching his car keys in one hand and his phone in the other. A pile of clothes is burning on the pavement corner. Shirts and jeans, some jumpers and a pair of shoes smouldering and reducing to ash before him.
That’s when Leon realises the street is awfully devoid of pedestrians as well.
It’s not a hotspot or a popular place in the city by any means, but with the amount of people who live on the road there’s frequently a large number of persons strolling the pavement on either side. Yet today, only Leon, an abandoned car and some burning clothes.
Stumbling back a few steps, he makes the decision to delay his errands and head to the station, to at least just find out if something has happened.
His steps slow as he walks toward his car, unconvincingly telling himself that there must be something going on in the city centre he doesn’t know about, something that’s drawn everyone away from this street and he just somehow doesn’t know about it. There’s an explanation of course there is, people didn’t just up and leave their homes.
As he reaches his car he looks back down at his phone in his hand, the device he’s clutching rather tightly as his mind races.
A number of missed calls from a number he vaguely recognises, with the Raccoon City area code assigned to all public numbers, and multiple voicemails. Leon frowns a little, unsure why he’s so popular this morning.
He hooks his phone up to his car before he drives off and hits play on his voicemails.
The first one is static.
A number he doesn’t recognise, rattled off in that automated voice before Leon hears twenty seconds of crackling, unnerving, static.
The weather has been terrible lately and it starts raining outside as he drives, sky blackening to the point he almost believes he slept through the day and is driving at night, so he supposes something must have happened to the caller's phone signal.
He turns his head briefly as he passes an open street, furrowing his brow at how empty the roads are right now. Not just his street apparently.
The second voicemail is from the station.
The automated voice reads ‘Raccoon City Police Department’, somehow pronouncing it wrong, and Leon straightens up in his seat.
“Lee-Leon? Leon are-y-there-can’t-”
He goes cold at the tone of your voice, panicked and scared and something he never wants to hear again as long as he lives. He clenches his jaw as he looks at the weather outside, cursing it for breaking up whatever you were trying to tell him. What the fuck happened? What could have happened?
You’re at the station right now, you should be surrounded by cops and in the safest place in Racoon City that you could possibly be. His foot presses down a little harder on the accelerator, fingers tapping against the steering wheel and other leg bouncing as his mind conjures up horrific images of you.
The automated voice reads the station name again and his hands jerk, already terrified at what he’s about to hear. The car swerves into the other lane slightly but the road is so ominously empty it doesn’t even matter.
“Leon? Le-Leon? Can’t-they-shit just don’t-ev-one-is getti-everyone-they’re all-getting-Leon? Fuck-they’re all-no-sick-Mar-can’t-Marvin? What ar-you-no no-don’t-Leon plea-”
Leon’s hands are shaking when the tone beeps, leaving his car in heavy silence.
He blinks, catching a shape on the side of the road and slowing his car down.
Pushing the door open, he climbs out slowly and takes a few steps forward, using his hand to shield his eyes from the steadily worsening rain. The shape is blacker than the sky, and with a few more hesitant steps, Leon realises it’s the burned wreck of a car.
Smoke blackening the metal and the windows, tyre rubber melted into the tarmac and another shape on the ground next to it.
Leon walks over to it, heart quickening as he takes in the evident four limbs, the shape that suddenly looks very human-like and unmoving on the ground. He kneels down next to the body and reaches a hand out before he realises what he’s about to touch and retracts suddenly.
The body is charred, burnt to a crisp, and yet something else is wrong.
He ducks his head to get a better look, and then gasps as he falls back on the road.
The corpse has no jaw.
Blinking rapidly and breathing quickly, Leon scrambles back and staggers to his feet, almost falling into his car and slamming the door as he grabs at his seatbelt.
He spends a shaky minute or so with his eyes closed, breathing heavily with his forehead pressed against his steering wheel, reluctantly admitting to himself that something is very very wrong with the city. The city you’re currently stuck in the centre of, all alone or already dead for all Leon knows.
That thought spurs him into action and he starts the car again, speeding down the rain slicked road in a couple of seconds. His eyes dart around, checking anywhere he can see for something, anything. There’s some foolish part of his mind that thinks maybe just maybe you’ll be here, for some unknown reason you’ll be strolling along this road and far away from whatever distressed you on that voicemail, you’ll flag down his car and kiss him in greeting, tell him you just fancied going out for a walk along the road for some reason, you haven’t even been near the station today.
Unsurprisingly, this does not happen.
The sky stays black and the heavens stay open, pelting his car with heavy rain, the road stays empty and his mind stays tumultuous.
Eventually he arrives at the gas station he frequently visits before work, buying snacks and lunch he knows he should leave in favour of home cooked food and saving money, but that he can never resist. There’s a cop car and a truck outside it this time, both with doors open and the interior lights on.
Leon slows and pulls up next to one of the pumps, jumping out of the car and figuring if something truly terrible is happening and everything is going to shit as badly as it seems it is, it might not hurt to have some gas in the tank at the very least. He starts filling it up as he glances cautiously around the station, seeing everything conspicuously abandoned.
Everything looks mid use, like the drivers of the truck and the cop car just jumped out of the vehicles, up and left without another thought. One of the gas pumps has a handle hanging down, nozzle dripping dark petrol onto the tarmac, as though someone dropped it and ran, Leon thinks. Didn’t even have time to slot it back into place.
The handle he’s holding clicks quietly and startles him a little, before he replaces it and closes the petrol cap on his car.
He takes a few steps toward the cop car, rounding the back of it-and coming to an abrupt halt once again at the sight of a dark puddle on the wet tarmac.
Petrol, right?
It’ll be petrol. Of course, of course it’ll be a petrol spillage. Some distance away from the pump. With no handle out of place or hanging down anywhere near it. It has to be petrol.
Swallowing nervously, Leon carries on and trips over his feet a little as he avoids the puddle, mind jumbled at the events of the morning.
The door to the gas station is dirty, grimy and the window is cracked somewhat. He steels himself and pushes it open slowly, eyes falling on the shelves that have fallen over, the food strewn over the aisles and the splatters of…not petrol.
He barely wraps his mind around the fact that there’s blood on the floor of this gas station before he sees a foot poking out from behind a rack of crisp bags, unmoving. Shakily, he walks over and rounds the corner-and comes face to face with a body slumped down against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of himself and hand attempting to stem the flow of red streaming from his neck. His movements are weak though, like he’s been here for a while, trying to stem that wound and keep himself alive. The failure is evident, pale face slackening and hand loosening.
The man sluggishly points to a door just behind and to the side of him, where there’s distant movement in the shadows of the window in it. Leon looks back down just as the man's hand falls away fully, exposing a raw, fleshy wound, crimson and gunky, meat torn with what looks like a bite mark.
-
The firearm in his hand shakes by his side and Leon is distantly confused by it, wondering what’s wrong with his weapon, though when he casts a quick look downwards he realises it’s his hand trembling.
Sickly, wet chewing-lumpy red on the floor and-white eyes-tendons pulling and-and-
Leon hunches over in the corner of the store and empties the contents of his stomach onto the grimy linoleum.
His hand gropes the shelves next to him blindly, finding a bottle and opening it shakily. He only sniffs it before he downs a few gulps, just making sure it’s not bleach or some such thing, and washes away the taste in his mouth.
A noise outside makes him jump a little, liquid (lemonade?) spilling from his lips as he jerks his head up.
Quietly, he makes his way slowly to the door and grips his weapon tightly, willing his hand to stop trembling. He pauses behind a shelf and takes a deep breath in, steeling himself for what might be about to happen, for what he might be about to face and-
The door springs open and slams against the wall, light from the streetlamps outside flooding in to frame a girl's silhouette. A ponytail swings in the shadows and he sees her looking around-he steps out and intends on introducing himself until he sees the rotting face looming up behind her, hands outstretched and jaw dropping open unnaturally wide.
He doesn’t think, his training kicks in and he yells ‘Duck!’ as he aims.
His hands are steady now, breath releasing as he squeezes the trigger and watches the body fall on the threshold of the gas station. Red spreads onto the linoleum beneath it, making Leon swallow and avert his eyes, trying to forget that whatever that was, it was once a person.
After the most panicked and brief introduction Leon has ever experienced (he yelled ‘LEON’ and she yelled ‘CLAIRE’ as they sprinted out the door towards Leon’s car), he speeds out back onto the empty, open road, heading for the station.
As they pass fields and farms, both of them watch yet more of these things wandering around. They seem lost, questioning and aimless-until they hear the roar of the car and turn toward it. They stumble and fall over themselves in their haste to get to whatever is making such a noise.
By the time Leon’s car skids into the city centre he and Claire have amassed some sort of groaning, limping cult ambling along after them.
He navigates the streets as quickly as he can, pulse picking up even further as he gets closer and closer to where you hopefully are. A glance to his right shows Claire looking pensive, and though he’s aware it’s not the usual circumstances for introductory small talk, he thinks it’s worth a try if he may be experiencing the apocalypse with this woman.
“So-Claire, right? Why are you-what brings you to Racoon City on today of all days?”
Sounded alright enough he thinks, enough casualness to maybe relax things but enough bite in the last part to read as a joke if she’s in the mood. God, if someone had told him a week ago he would spend his morning masturbating, shooting zombies and then trying to make small talk on the way to see if you’ve died or not, he would have laughed himself into unconsciousness.
Claire spares a glance for him before looking back out the windshield and biting her thumbnail. A moment later she looks back at him and sighs.
“My-I’m looking for my brother-I was meant to visit him anyway, and then I got here and, well, this was happening. Figured he might know what’s going on, or at least be somewhere safe given he’s a cop and all-”
Something jars in Leon’s mind as she speaks and he whips his head towards her, slowing the car a little so he doesn’t drive headlong into something.
“Are you-Redfield? Claire Redfield?”
The look she gives him suggests that while there are creatures outside that would likely eat her, she somewhat wishes she hadn’t got in the car with him.
“Sorry-I’m-I don’t mean to sound creepy or weird or-I’m Leon Kennedy, I work with your brother-I work with Chris, same team and everything at the station-”
“You’re the rookie?!?”
Great. So that’s going to follow him around then.
Leon grimaces and watches out the window as three of those things tear into a carcass on the side of the road, something that may once have resembled a horse.
“If Chris told you that Leon Kennedy is the new rookie then sure I guess that’s me-”
Claire huffs out a laugh and turns back to the window, seemingly satisfied with his answer and confident she’s not in a car with some kind of perv. Nice to know it takes more to convince her than something as minor as saving her life from a zombie.
“Not a fan of the nickname huh? Sounds like Chris really, at least he just stuck with rookie and didn’t give you anything else too bad-”
She stops abruptly, her and Leon both craning their necks to stare out the windshield.
There is…a lot of fire.
Leon swallows, eyes darting about as he watches the bumbling figures trip over themselves and bump into abandoned vehicles. There’s a row of burning cars blocking their way, in some sort of tangled heap across the road. Leon pulls to a stop in front of them, next to the charred wreck of a van on its side, distractedly watching a hand poking out the broken windshield-followed slowly by a mess of limbs falling onto the tarmac with an audible crunch.
Claire turns toward him and opens her mouth, no doubt to formulate some sort of plan about getting around this wreck with their lives if at all possible, but a kind of roaring noise stops her. Hesitantly, both of them turn in their seats and look out the back window of Leon’s car.
And that’s when the truck comes barrelling towards them.