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Leon let out a pained groan, allowing Grace to practically drag him across the short bridge to the circular platform in the centre of the cavernous laboratory. Zeno stood by the machine in the middle of the platform, waiting expectantly for his living key to miraculously unlock ‘Elpis’, something that Grace knew little about.
Grace got closer to him then, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“No, no, no. I have an idea”, she spoke, hushed and uncertain. The panic was still evident in her voice but there was something else there now, like she was more sure of this than she’d been about their entire situation until now.
Leon just hoped she’d be able to follow through with it.
Every breath was an agonising rasp in his lungs, the virus surging through his blood effecting him more and more as time went on. Realistically, he knew he was going to die here—had been certain of it since he’d stepped foot in the lab with blurry vision and coughing up a lung—but he wasn’t about to let that stop him from completing his mission.
If he could save someone—save Grace—that would be enough. And if he was lucky, maybe she’d be able to dig up some files on the unfamiliar strain of T-Virus and get in contact with Sherry to develop a cure. For that though, he needed her alive and was going to do his damndest to make that happen, regardless of what that sunglasses-wearing weirdo had to say about it.
“I trust you, I trust you”, Leon breathed, trying his best to steady himself as he leaned on the woman beside him. The agent didn’t know what she was planning, but whatever it was, he was praying it would work.
“So, the prodigal daughter returns”, the stern look that Zeno wore never left his face, his voice disturbingly calm. Leon had a bad feeling about all this, but he wouldn’t dare question Grace about it right now. They didn’t have enough time for that.
“I know the password”.
What?
Leon wasn’t sure if she was being serious—how could she know, right?—but something about the look on Grace’s face let him know that she wasn’t bullshitting. What the fuck was going on? Did she really know the password, and if so, how? Zeno was staring down at the blond woman sceptically, as if he was just as curious as Leon.
The two steps down to the platform had been agony, and it had taken all of Leon’s will power not to start coughing again. His entire body was alight as his system battled the virus, his skin covered in a layer of sweat. The ground underneath him was suddenly becoming harder and harder to walk on, his weaken legs unable to support his weight and his lungs burned with the effort it took to breathe. Leon was definitely going to die.
“Fulfil your destiny, and all will be forgiven”, he heard Zeno say through the haze in his mind, stalking closer to Grace. Every thought was getting foggier, and Leon wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold out for before his body gave up on him. Guess he’d find out.
As soon as Grace’s support was gone, Leon collapsed onto the platform on all fours, breathing heavily as Grace stilled, keeping the distance between her and Zeno. “O-Only if you let Leon live”. God-fucking-dammit, Grace. As much as he didn’t want to believe that she would play the hero, Grace was an FBI agent. If she’d wanted to help Emily, she’d help Leon.
“Very well”, Zeno agreed, sounding almost disappointed before turning on his heel and flicking his cigarette away, not bothering to put it out.
Leon gathered as much strength as he could to pull himself on his knees, ignoring the way is body screamed at him to just stay put. There were so many things he wanted to say to the taller man, but he could barely breathe nevermind make quips at some bioterrorist who wants to destroy humanity.
Grace cautiously moved towards the large machine—that Leon presumed contained Elpis—as the small device on the front opened automatically in front of her. Leon couldn’t read what it said, but he assumed it was asking for the password that the woman insisted she knew. He could hear the soft clicking of keys as Grace typed in the password, waiting with bated breath (which only made the burning in his lungs worse).
Within seconds, the machine appeared to shut off with both the small screen and yellow light atop it powering down. Was that it? Was it finally over?
Wishful fucking thinking.
Both Grace and Zeno were left glancing around the room, waiting for something to happen. What exactly had Grace done? Leon figured that she’d stopped the release of Elpis for good, but that didn’t explain the slight confusion on Zeno’s face.
“What did you do?”, Zeno snarled, turning back towards Grace. If he was panicking, he sure as shit was doing a good job at hiding it, although Leon was almost certain that even Zeno hadn’t known what Elpis was, not fully at least. Even through his hazy state, Leon could feel the rumble of metal underneath them. Things were about to get rough, weren’t they?
“What I had to”
The loud crash was almost immediate, and the three of them had to brace themselves in order to remain on their feet. It didn’t take long for them to realise that the lab was coming apart, the bridge beginning to shift and disconnect from the platform. They were running out of time.
Fuck this.
“Grace, get out of here!”, Leon yelled at the blond woman, but she wasn’t fast enough to dodge Zeno’s grip. The taller man continued to hold on to Grace’s wrist with an inhuman grip. If they didn’t figure this out soon, they were both dying today. Leon couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen.
Willing his body to cooperate, Leon gripped his hatchet as tightly as he could, driving it into Zeno’s back. The man let out a growl, releasing Grace and allowing the two agents to escape to the bridge. Leon could barely think with how loud the destruction around him was. The only thing that was sure in his mind was getting Grace out of the situation.
The platform dropped lower as soon as he boosted the woman up to the bridge, separating them with a certain finality that filled Leon with dread. He could hear Grace screaming behind him, something his brain didn’t have the power to piece together as he turned back to Zeno, raising his fists. Fuck knows how long he’d be able to fight for, but he couldn’t just not try.
As it turns out, not very long at all.
The blows Zeno was landing on him were brutal, even moreso when combined with his inhuman strength. The taller man’s skin had automatically knitted itself back together, so the hatchet wound wasn’t slowing him down in the slightest. What did he have to do to beat this man? Somewhere behind him, Leon knew Grace was watching, screaming, but he didn’t have it in him to meet her eyes.
The first punch to his stomach was enough to have the agent coughing up blood, crimson staining his lips and chin. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like his body had much fight left, every dodge and counter delayed. No matter what, he’d never keep up with the silver-haired man’s speed in this state. The second punch to his gut and Leon was on his knees, staring defiantly up at Zeno.
He wouldn’t look at Grace. He couldn’t bare to see the look in her eyes when Zeno inevitably decided to kill him. As long as she’s safe...
“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Kennedy. I won’t kill you”, Zeno gestured to the agent’s body with a gloved hand, “the virus you’re infected with will do the job for me. Until then...”, the silver-haired man paused for a moment, drawing his gun from the inside of his overcoat, “I’m going to make sure Ms. Ashcroft regrets her betrayal”.
Leon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in despite how the action pained him as Zeno pressed the gun’s muzzle against his forehead, digging the metal into his skin.
This is it.
The bullet he was waiting for never came, no resonating bang before eternal darkness...nothing. Leon cracked his eyes open to see the other man in the same position as before, gun still readied with the hammer drawn back, making his heart beat impossibly fast against his ribcage. The metallic taste of blood was still clinging to the back of his throat, the liquid drying on his chin irritating him, making the skin feel tight.
Zeno dropped the gun to the agent’s mouth, dragging the barrel along his bloodied bottom lip before retracing his steps and leaving an uneven line of smeared blood to his temple. Just what was the man playing at? Like he’d said, killing him wasn’t in the cards, so what exactly did Zeno intend on doing?
The agent looked up at Zeno then, following his gaze off into his peripheral vision. Leon didn’t need to see her to know that Grace was still there, probably watching along in horror as the silver-haired man toyed with the idea of shooting him. Just fucking great. The assault had left him too stunned to even move, and in his fatigued state, running now wasn’t going to be an option. All Leon could do now was endure whatever the sick fuck had in mind and hope that he could still make it out of the crumbling lab alive.
The gun’s muzzle was back against his closed mouth—pushing insistently against his lips—trying to force its way inside. Nausea was beginning to gnaw at his gut and it was taking everything he had not to vomit blood onto Zeno’s expensive shoes. There’s no way that he was going to let the man put a fucking gun in his mouth, especially if he switched up and simply decided he was tired of keeping Leon alive.
But, what if by allowing it to happen, Zeno would keep him alive? At least long enough that he could see sunlight again before the virus killed him.
“Now, now, Mr. Kennedy. I’d reconsider your disobedience if I were you”, Zeno gripped his chin between his thumb and index finger, the leather sticking to the tacky blood, “I wouldn’t want to accidentally aim a little higher”. There was no mistake that the bastard’s eyes had wandered to Grace when he’d said that, and something protective in Leon couldn’t stand the idea of her getting shot because of him.
Leon parted his lips indignantly, allowing the taller man to push inch after inch of the gun’s narrow barrel into his mouth until the muzzle hit the back of his throat. Leon gagged then, bile rising in his throat that he had to swallow down without complaint. The fact that he hadn’t had to stretch his mouth around the intrusion somehow made it worse, the thin metal only serving to humiliate him further, his cheeks tinted red despite everything.
God, he hoped Grace had turned away by now.
The gun in his mouth was making it harder than was necessary for him to breathe, the agent resorting to sharp intakes of breath through his nostrils, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest that flared up each time he did.
Zeno’s hand left his chin then, leather sliding along his cheek to rest in his hair with a grip hard enough to be a warning. Leon met the man’s eyes again, refusing to back down as his tongue scraped along the underside of the weapon’s barrel. The next words out of Zeno’s mouth had the agent wishing he were dead,
“Suck”.
Although Leon’s pride was screaming at him not to, it was the only way he was potentially making it out of here with his heart still beating—though he was yet to establish if that was a good thing or not.
Leon hollowed out his cheeks and sucked.
It was a clumsy ministration, sucking on such a thin piece of metal but he made it work, even if his teeth made an audible clinking sound every time they hit off the barrel. Leon could feel the heat steadily rising in his cheeks, no doubt turning them an even darker shade. Hopefully, with the amount of smoke currently rising in the room, Zeno wouldn’t be able to tell. It would just be another thing to mock him over anyway.
The wet noises coming from Leon was enough to make the agent cast his eyes downward. Fuck his pride and fuck Zeno. He wasn’t going to look that fucker in the eye while he was being fed his gun. Zeno seemed to sense what was going on—seconds being all it took for the grip in Leon’s hair to tighten and his head to be wrenched back so he was forced to look at the taller man.
“Keep your eyes on me, Mr. Kennedy. I will not tolerate anything else”.
Leon really didn’t want to see what would happen if he tested that.
The pain in his scalp made him cough, a muffled gag around the gun, spluttering up blood and saliva that drooled down his chin, dripping onto the platform below. It was utterly fucking humiliating, kneeling in front of a man he considers an enemy, sucking off something that could blow his brains out in a millisecond. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He hated Zeno.
He hated Grace for continuing to watch the ordeal.
He hated himself.
Leon just had to keep telling himself that as long as he was alive at the end of all this, it would be worth it.
Then Zeno started to move the gun, inches of the barrel slipping from his mouth only to be thrust back in, more than likely bruising the back of his throat. There was no gradual pace with the silver-haired man, just a brutal slide of engraved metal on the sensitive skin of his lip and down his throat, rubbing the flesh raw.
The sunglasses that covered Zeno’s eyes done little to disguise the intimidating glare that he was shooting him, a silent don’t stop that rendered the agent unable to argue. If he wasn’t close to death already, he sure did feel like it, the rough treatment making the aching in his body a million times worse. Leon had a feeling it would take a while for him to gather the strength to stand, with his knees holding his weight for however long they’d been like this.
His scalp was still stinging from earlier and every thrust was swaying his body back and forth with the force of it, creating a dull ache in Leon’s neck. Admittedly, focusing on his hatred for Zeno was making him forget about most of the aching in his system. But the virus was getting tougher now—continuing to course through him, his veins and arteries—making his head spin and vision blurry.
Leon couldn’t trust his own body anymore.
Which was probably why he was still absentmindedly sucking on the fucking gun.
It was loaded, of course it was. Leon knew it was, but he’d looked death in the face before, and this was no exception. Narrow barrel or not, the punishing, bruising rhythm that the silver-haired man had initially set was starting to take its toll. Leon was drooling red-tinted saliva from the corners of his mouth, could feel more of it pooling in his mouth.
For one split second, he allowed himself to look down again, away from the man’s stare that was nothing but a mirror—Leon staring into his reflection that was nothing more than a humiliated, teary-eyed mess—to look past the gun at the straining fabric of Zeno’s pristine white slacks.
The sick bastard was getting off on this.
The second Zeno noticed where Leon was looking, the hand in his hair loosened, moving to undo his own belt. That fucker better not do what Leon was thinking.
All of the agent’s protests came out as muffled screams as he tired to ask—beg, even—the man to reconsider his actions. It was one thing to humiliate him by making him suck off a gun, but also getting off to it? The thought made that familiar nausea return and he tried his best not to retch around the metal in his mouth.
By the time Leon had mustered up the courage to look back at the taller man, he had a leather-clad hand wrapped around his leaking cock, stroking himself steadily in time with the thrusts of the Redemption in Leon’s mouth. Zeno let out a low groan as he did, letting his head drop to look over his sunglasses at the kneeling agent.
“I hope you’re enjoying the show, Ms. Ashcroft”, Zeno’s voice was a strained growl, hips jutting forward into his fist, chasing the release he’d put off for so long, “Mr. Kennedy makes for a good toy”. He’d taken his hand off his cock for a moment then, caressing Leon’s cheek almost fondly with it. It made Leon sick to know that he’d smeared some of the pre-cum from the glove onto his skin, the substance cooling rapidly.
The thrusts of the gun were getting sloppy now, Leon’s teeth catching in the engraved dips in the barrel every so often causing the muzzle to get pushed askew into his cheeks or jam itself into the tender flesh of his palate. It was clear that Zeno was close to his orgasm, swears and pleasured grunts falling from his lips as he worked his hand over himself, cock drooling onto the platform underneath them.
Leon wasn’t sure if it was the virus or the constant abuse on his mouth, but his vision was beginning to blur again, Zeno’s ministrations nothing more than a flicker of colour in front of his eyes.
A few more insistent strokes and Zeno was slowing the gun to a stop, leaving it still between the agent’s lips as he stepped forward, the head of his cock inches from Leon’s face. Leon didn’t need to have perfect vision to know what was coming.
Zeno’s orgasm hit him quickly, his hips stuttering as he painted Leon’s face with his release. The silver-haired man took a moment to admire his handiwork before tucking himself back into his slacks and removing his prized gun from the younger man’s mouth, the barrel dripping with a gruesome mix of blood and saliva.
Only when he was certain that Grace had watched every second did he let Leon collapse to the floor, pressing the Redemption’s muzzle to his forehead once more.
The hammer was drawn back, his finger on the trigger.
Zeno could’ve gotten hard again at the sound of Ms. Ashcroft’s screams.