Archive of Our Own

You’ve been watching him all day. Since you went after him in the hallway last night, you've been worried about him. Leon’s been the same as always – all day he’s moved the same, his face wasn't heavy with fatigue, nothing’s been different. But by your afternoon sessions, your performance was slipping – you've been distracted by the idea that you were missing some obvious sign of distress, and your work suffered while you tried to catch some tell in his behavior. You watched him put himself back together from the scattered pieces you found outside the bunks less than twelve hours ago. You should've been able to tell that something was wrong, and you've been tripping over yourself all day because you can't tell the difference.

Otherwise, it's been a normal day of training. You survived hours of drills without getting hurt too badly beyond your daily share of bruises. The two of you ate dinner and came back to the empty gym to work together. You’re pacing around him on the mat, watching him move and trying to focus. 

He lunges toward you with his rubber knife near your ribs and you dodge back. You miss the opportunity to strike a fist into the pit of his elbow to make him drop his knife. 

“Dude, stop that.” He says. 

You look at him, pacing sideways as he regains his guard. He sees the confusion in your face.

“You've been going easy on me all day, I don't need you to do that.” He says. 

You watch him move, advancing toward you. 

“I wasn't-” You start.

He tries to sweep your leg. You roll and pop up a few feet away. 

“You were. You still are.” He insists, advancing again.

You bat away three of his rapid strikes, ducking out of the fourth. You swipe at his knee with your knife, and he counters with a kick near your head. You pull back and bring your hand up to block it – he kicks your knife out of your hand. It clatters across the room. He regains his feet and relaxes out of his guard, looking at you.

“You’re dead.” He says.

You frown at him. 

He goes to get your knife, tossing it to you and dropping back into his guard without a word. You settle into yours and watch him closely. He’s moving faster than usual, hitting harder. You try to match him, but it feels wrong. You're watching him move, trying to keep yourself out of his strikes but all you can think about is the far off look in his eyes and the way he clung to you in the dim hallway last night. You’re trying hard to forget it and focus.

You try to rush him. He sidesteps, grabbing your upper arm. He pivots around your back and his boot crashes into the back of your knee. You crumple into an involuntary lunge – he’s standing on your calf. You bark out a pained cry; he still has your arm behind your back. His other hand quickly jabs the dull point of his knife somewhere near your shoulder, not bothering to make it a clean strike.

He lets go of you.

“Dead.” Leon huffs again. 

He walks off and regains his guard. 

Irritation pricks you. You're unfamiliar with this bored, snippy version of him. You didn't let him have the last one, he actually got you, but he looks at you like you're still going easy on him. You bite back a sigh and try to hold onto the spike of anger in your chest.

You meet him in the center of the mat. He nods. You advance, opening with a kick that would land around the center of his ribs. He catches your boot in both hands and pulls, yanking you off the leg that's still supporting your weight. You fall hard on the mat and freeze for half a heartbeat, watching him. He drops your foot to follow you to the floor but you roll, making it to your knees a few feet away. You had the chance to kick his foot out from under him before he got down to the ground. You should've taken it, but your body wouldn't move. You see him seeing you miss the opportunity. You regret it immediately. He lunges at you, his forearm slams into your chest with all of his weight behind it. Your back hits the mat and he’s on top of you. His hands pin your wrists over your head and his knees dig into your thighs. 

You blink up at him, breathing hard. You try to ignore the way your body reacts to his hold. He’s frowning down at you and lets go of your wrists. He sits back on his heels and you get up to your elbows. You take in a breath to explain yourself, to apologize, you didn't mean to hold back. He’s still kneeling on your thighs.

“I’ll tap out if I need to. Don't do it for me.” Leon says. “Please.”

“I’m sorry.” You say. 

He gets up, extending a hand down to you. You take it. 

“I was dealing with my shit for a long time before you noticed.” He says.

You feel your face tighten with worry. You still hate the idea that he’s been doing it alone. He reads it on your face and his expression softens a little. He hasn't dropped your hand yet.

“Doing this with you, it helps. I don't want it to be different, okay?” He says. 

You squeeze his hand. 

“Okay.” You say. “Got it.” 

He squeezes back. 

You separate into your guards again and take a deep breath. You find his eyes, sharp with familiar focus behind his loose, guarded fists. You nod to him. He advances, reaching for your leading hand, trying to drag you to the ground. You lunge past him, turning quickly to strike a fist near his kidney before he can turn around. You bounce on your toes, watching him breathe out the pain as he turns to face you again. He advances again, sending his full weight into a kick you have to dodge out of, then another, and another. On the third, you catch his heel before it can make contact with your jaw and throw his foot away from you with all of your strength, hoping to upset his balance. It doesn't work – he spins, letting himself fall to the floor, kicking one of your knees out from under you on the way down. You're flat on your ass, curling forward to get your knees under you again, but before you can think, he’s behind you.

His hands are on both of your shoulders, sending you face first into the mat. You catch your weight on your forearms instead of your face, but he’s still heavy against your back. You feel one of his hands scrambling for your left arm, trying to wrench it behind your back. You let your body move, foregoing the restraint that’s held you back all day. You send your right elbow back sharply and it collides with his cheek. You hear him grunt and roll off of you. 

You're kneeling, feeling the throbbing sting of the impression of his cheekbone against your elbow. Leon is on his hands and knees, blinking through the white shock of the impact on his face. He finds your eyes. You’re about to ask him if he’s alright, you’ve never purposefully hit him in the face before. You watch a smile pull at his mouth. He’s breathing hard. You feel your stomach clench. 

He’s getting up again, staying low but moving to lunge at you on the ground. Your body moves, rolling just out of his path. Behind him now, you grab one of his arms, pulling his fist up between his shoulder blades. You're moving quickly, letting your body act without slowing to calculate. You pull yourself onto his back; he’s face down on the mat underneath you. He tries to buck you off of him, trying to get his knees under him, but you slot your hips against his ass and push his knees outward with yours. He’s still straining against your hold, getting his free hand under him and trying to flip you both onto your back. 

You don't realize that you've palmed the back of his head and taken a fistful of his hair until you hear his voice break out of him in a breathy whine instead of a bark of pain. You feel your hips twitch forward. You both freeze. 

You both stay there, tense and panting for a few seconds before you release your hold on his head. He lets his forehead fall to the mat. His back swells with his rapid breaths. His arm relaxes in your grip. You want to drag your nails down his back and take his waist in your hands. You want to feel him arch back against you. You need to make him whine like that again. You blink hard and get off of him. 

You shuffle back and watch him sit up.

“Sorry. You okay?” You ask.

He laughs a little. 

“Yeah.” 

He can't look you in the eye. 

Then, you remember.

“I hit you, I’m sorry- Is it bad?” 

You get close to him again and reach for his face, turning his cheek to inspect the welt forming on his cheekbone. It’s pink, but you realize the rest of his face is too.

“I’m alright.” He says. 

Leon looks at you and you feel your gut roil with guilt. His cheek is bruising. You can't stop thinking about the sound he made when you pulled his hair. 

“That wasn't fair, I didn't mean to-” You don't know what to call it. Pull his hair and grind on his ass mid-fight? What else do you call it?

“I just moved, I wasn't trying to-” 

He shakes his head, biting back an embarrassed smile. 

“I’m good.” He promises. He meets your eyes briefly, then you watch them dip to your mouth before flitting away again.

“No complaints.” He says. You laugh a little. 

“We gotta be careful though, you pull something like that in the circle, I think we’re gonna get separated.” He says. 

You smile guiltily, a little worried about the wires you've already crossed, but not enough to untangle them. He’s looking at you. You can see wheels turning in his head – you think he might be thinking the same thing. You’re both quiet, feeling something hum in the short space between you. He glances at the dark, open doorway across the gym. You glance at the door, and back at him. Then, he’s kissing you. 

He has a handful of your shirt, pulling you toward him. You yield immediately, taking his face in your hand and his tongue into your mouth, forgetting the room around you. He falls back onto the mat, pulling you down with him. You don't break from the kiss to climb over him and straddle his hips. You smile against his mouth, feeling him stiff against your inner thigh. 

His hands roam around your chest as you kiss him, sneaking under the hem of your shirt to smooth over your skin. His fingers tuck into your belt, tugging at it while his hips twitch up underneath you. You plant a hand on his chest, holding him down while you tease your mouth up his neck. 

He breaks your meager hold and rolls you onto your back beneath him, holding your wrist against the mat – his hands move slowly now, devoid of the adrenaline that usually presses you against the vinyl. He kisses you while your heavy, unhurried breaths mingle together. One of his knees presses up between your thighs and you feel your hips involuntarily grind against it. You breathe a swear into his mouth and he smiles, feeling you writhe under him. 

You're working your hands under his shirt to scratch your nails down his back when you hear a door bang open down the hall. You both freeze. You blink and he’s rolled off of you, pacing across the gym while you sit up.

You watch two shapes flit quickly past the darkened doorway. Across the room, Leon looks at you, running a hand through his hair. After they pass, he starts walking back toward you. He extends a hand to you again – you take it, listening to the figures continue down the hallway beyond the door. He smiles at you anxiously, still holding your hand.

You keep an eye on the open doorway and break into a jog, pulling him with you to the storage closet; he follows.

You push him inside, and when the door snaps shut, your face is in his hands and he’s kissing you again. You hardly break away from his mouth when he tugs your shirt over your head, running his hands hungrily over your bare skin. You pull at his shirt too, needing to feel his chest pressed against yours. 

He can't get enough of you in his hands. You drag little pink scratches over his back with your fingernails – he groans the sting into your mouth. You pull at his belt, stumbling back until your shoulders meet the door behind you. You keep him pressed against you while you get his pants undone, grinning when you find him pink and twitching beneath his waistband. You palm him and he pushes into your hand, pressing shaky kisses down your jaw. He stoops to trail his mouth over your chest, and eventually kneels to kiss along the ridges of your hips.

He hooks his fingers in your waistband and looks up at you from his knees. His face is flushed and his hair is askew. His broad chest rises quickly with the breaths that break past his parted lips. Somehow, in the low light, his eyes still look so blue. The unrestrained wanting on his face makes your stomach flutter. For a few breaths, you're struck silent by the sight of him kneeling for you again.

“You're so pretty like this.” You tell him when your voice returns to you. 

You watch his face tighten with embarrassment. He moves to bury it in the soft space between your hip and thigh, but you stop him, smoothing your hand over his head. 

“Let me look at you.” You say. You find a gentle fistful of his hair and feel your body thrum with the quiet whine he loses in your grip. Pushing him back, you can see his tip peeking out of his open pants, shifting against his abdomen as it moves with his heavy breaths.

“Give me your hand.” You say. 

He looks a little confused but gives it to you. You watch him understand as you hold it in front of his mouth. 

“Spit.” You tell him.

You watch his face burn a few shades redder as he stares up at you, not doing it yet. You smile. 

“I wanna watch you, pretty boy.” You tease. 

You grin wider as he struggles with pretty boy.

“Can I watch you?” You ask.

You hold his face in your hand, watching him weigh the wanting with the embarrassment of admitting it. Eventually the scale settles and he cups his palm against his mouth and holds your eyes as he runs his spit-slick hand up his shaft.

He can't keep looking at you for long. He wants to bury his face against you but you hold him at arm’s length, too entranced by the movement of his hand to let him obscure your view. You lean back against the door and watch him swipe his thumb over the swell of his head. His breaths come in groans that he stifles into unstable huffs. You run your fingers through his hair again, making him look up at you. The sound that sneaks out of him and the look in his eyes when you do reminds you that you're untouched and throbbing.

You're twitching nearly in time with his strokes. You let go of him to undo your pants and shuffle your waistband down your thighs – you want him to see. You breathe a quiet swear and he echoes it as he watches your fingers find you swollen and slick.  

“Shit-” Leon breathes again, watching your knuckles disappear and come out shining. You watch his hand speed up as you let him watch you teasing your fingers into you.

“That’s it, pretty boy.” You breathe, trying to keep your legs and your voice steady while your fingers push shaky waves of sensation into you.

You watch his arm tense and bunch as he strokes himself faster – his hips start rocking into his fist. He’s working little gasps out of himself, his eyes fixed on your fingers pushing and stroking, slow and wet. You roll against your hand, biting your lips to keep yourself quiet. You tease him, hoping he’ll break before you do. 

“You feel good?” You ask.

He pulls his gaze from your hand to find your face again. His eyes are hazy and huge. He nods. 

“I-” He shudders. You smile.

“I want you so bad-” He breathes.

“Yeah?” You tease.

“Please-” His hand and his hips move desperately together.

“Please let me be good-” He tries to catch his breath. “Let me be good for you- I wanna make you- feel good-” 

You smile while he pants up at you, his eyes flitting desperately between your face and your fingers. You keep teasing into yourself as you come down slowly to kneel with him, kissing him between his little gasps. 

“What do you want?” You murmur against his lips. 

“I wanna be good- I-” He rambles between strained breaths. “I wanna taste you- I wanna be good- wanna be yours-” 

You feel your core squeeze. He gropes at your thigh with his free hand, finding a tight fistful of your belt to hold onto. He’s talking himself closer to the edge.

“Mine?” You ask him. 

He nods against your forehead.

“Yours.” He breathes. “I’m yours.”

He's thrusting into his fist, trying and failing to keep himself quiet. You pull your fingers out of you and close them around him, replacing his grip with your own, still wet with the mess that's dripping between your thighs.

Leon tries and fails to stifle a sound like a sob when your hand takes over. He wraps his hand around yours and squeezes, losing more gasping whines to the wet pressure. He thrusts hard into your grip, leaning into your shoulder to bury his face against your neck. You realize he’s breathing something strained against your skin, hardly audible as his breath gets away from him. 

“Yours,” he whispers.

You hold onto him, running your fingers through his hair with your free hand.

“I’m yours,” he repeats, again and again in time with his desperate thrusts into your hand.

You nod and whisper against his skin,

“You're mine.”

He shudders and gasps; his hips freeze, pushing the last of his sporadic thrusts into your hand. You feel the warm pool in your palm drip down your fingers. You're still holding him, feeling his breaths rush rapidly out of him against your bare chest. When you feel them begin to slow again, you feel his lips trailing up your neck, eventually finding your mouth. 

You kiss him, feeling him come back. 

“Mine, huh?” You smile into his mouth. You feel him stiffen up.

“Shut up,” he murmurs. 

You hold his chin, toying with him.

“What? It’s cute.” You tell him.

His jaw works through the embarrassment.

“I think it's cute that you can't say you want me to pull your hair and call you good boy but you just want it so bad-” you tease him.

“Alright-” He sighs, pulling away from you.

You pull him back and kiss him again.

“I like when you tell me what you want,” you say. “You get all pink, it’s cute.” 

You watch him fidget. 

“I think you said something about tasting me?” You prod. 

He glowers at you. You grin back, waiting for him to say it. 

“I don't know how you want to- but I wanted you to get to-” Leon looks at you, struggling. He runs an anxious hand over his face.

“Do you wanna-? Sit-?”

You can't contain the little burst of laughter that comes out of you when you realize what he’s struggling to ask you.

“You want me to sit on your face?” You ask him through a delighted laugh. 

“I-! Yeah-” he sputters. “I mean, I want to have sex with you somewhere that's not a concrete floor, but-” 

You giggle at him.

“I didn't want you to get cold.” He says. 

You’re still giggling as you kiss him again.

“Such a gentleman.” You say. 

“I wanted you to get to-” He looks at you, losing his words again. “If you want to? Please?” He says through an exasperated smile. 

You start picking at the laces of one of your boots, kicking out of it and one of your pant legs. He tugs his shirt back over his head, putting something between his back and the concrete before he falls back onto his elbows. 

“You’re sure this is ok?” He asks, watching you shuffle over to him. “We don't have to- I just-”

You push him down to the ground and kiss him.

“Shut up.” You say. 

“Okay.” He nods, watching you swing your leg over his chest. 

Your knees press into the cold concrete on either side of his head.You hover, looking down at him, his face pink and bracketed between your thighs. He looks up at you like he’s trying to convince himself you're real. You know the sight of him like this is going to linger in your head when you need to focus tomorrow.

You palm his cheek and let yourself sink onto his mouth. When you press against his lips, his eyes flutter closed and his breath rushes out of his nose in a sigh. You take in a trembling breath and try to let it out of you without a sound – you're noisier than you hoped.

His hands find your thighs, holding onto you while you start to drag slow strokes over his tongue. You keep running your fingers through his hair and swiping your thumbs over his face. You can’t stop looking at him, framed by your bruised thighs. 

“You’re so pretty,” you tell him again. You're not trying to tease him anymore, you're just struck by the way he looks when he's under you. 

Leon muffles a sound against you, squeezing your thighs in his hands and working his jaw to swipe his tongue slowly against your skin. You shift a little lower, pressing harder against his mouth. The sensation makes your knees unsteady. He muffles another sound and you feel his chin move – he’s nodding and grabbing at your hips, pulling you downward.

Your stomach lifts, airy and fluttering as you grind harder against his lips. Your voice shudders out of you. He’s so warm, and his mouth is so soft. He’s looking up at you through dreamlike, half-lidded eyes. You hold his cheek, steadying his head as you roll your hips against his mouth. 

You gasp when you feel his lips close around your head, sucking and pushing at it with his tongue. Your voice wobbles in your throat as you breathe whispered curses down your chest. You feel your hips buck forward, rutting into the little hollow space between his lips. He pulls you in with his tongue and your head starts to go fuzzy. He takes your hips in his hands and tugs at them gently, urging you to keep grinding into him. You take his face in both hands, panting down at him. He groans against you, opening his mouth to take more of you in as you start to lose the measured pace on your thrusts. The unstable tightening in your core grows stronger with each one.

You can't keep yourself quiet anymore; your shuddering groans are filling the little room. You find his eyes again, staring up at you blearily, blissful while he lets you use him.

“Good boy,” you tell him.

He whines into you.

“God, you're so good-” 

Leon whines again. His hands tighten on your hips. You feel yourself beginning to slip.

“You're so pretty- So good for me-” 

You're slurring. Your legs are shaking. His eyes are helpless beneath you.

“Good boy- My good boy-”

Your voice breaks into a breathless gasp. You hardly feel your thighs squeezing around his head – your limbs become immaterial and your breath seizes in your throat. You curl inward, feeling yourself throb heavy pulses against his tongue. You distantly hear him muffle a sound against you while you feel yourself plummeting. Then, your breath is back, shuddering sudden and harsh into your lungs. You realize you're falling forward and catch your weight on your hands on the concrete while your body trembles through the final waves of it.

You blink clarity back into your vision and see his hands running over your legs. A few seconds later, you feel them too. You stay there on wobbling knees for a few breaths before you get up. He watches you roll off of him, catching your weight on your hip on the floor beside him. He scoots up to an elbow and takes your face in his hand. 

“You okay?” He asks.

You kiss him, still breathing hard. You press your lips against his and lean your cheek into his hand, feeling your body slowly return to the room. You breathe together, letting him catch you as you come back down. 

You break from the kiss and look at the two of you lying messy and haphazardly clothed on the concrete. You smile a little and look back at him – he’s still looking at you. You want to stay with him like this. You want to fall onto your back and pull him over you, to feel his warm weight press against your body. You want to lie down somewhere soft and hold onto him, listening to him breathe and feeling his heartbeat pressed against your cheek. 

You want it, but more than that, you want to give it to him. He looks at you like being here with you now is the closest thing he’ll get. 

You get up to your knees and hug him tightly around his shoulders, savoring, at least, the feeling of his chest swelling against yours. He runs his hands over your skin, breathing you in. 

“You’re cold.” He murmurs.

You nod, but you don't move. He hugs you tighter. 

You stay together in the dim little room for a while, keeping each other warm.