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The first thing Leon sees when he wakes is a blinding light bright enough to mirror the glare of the sun. He squints, blinking at it and wondering for a moment if he had died and this was whatever afterlife might exist. It’s the only thing his groggy mind can rationalize being so damn bright. Though, he supposes if there was an afterlife he probably wouldn’t have made it to heaven, so maybe not.
He instinctively tries to raise a hand to shield his eyes– it doesn’t move. Upon wiggling it, he realizes it’s restrained by something. It takes a couple more seconds to fully register he’s tied to a chair with his hands restrained behind his back.
Well damn.
He takes stock of the situation. His jacket had been taken, and none of his weapons were left on his belt. He’d been stripped of his defenses, then. Great. How many times has this sort of thing happened to him? Must be a perk of the job.
He raises his head, squinting even further when he hears a low hum from across the room. The almost oppressively blinding light is eclipsed by a large figure. Though he’d like to say the shade from the light relieves him, it doesn’t.
Victor Gideon stands before him in all his twisted glory, the gray pallor of his skin even more deathly looking in the light, the scales of his snakeskin trench coat shimmering. Even his skin was reminiscent of a snake’s underbelly— as if he’d been cut open and haphazardly sewn together a few times, so that what should be smooth skin was twisted and marked like scales.
The last thing Leon remembers is meeting this guy and getting choked out. That’s when he must have been brought to wherever this was, though judging from the medical equipment around, it seemed like they were still somewhere in the hospital. Maybe the attic? Basement? He couldn’t have been passed out for that long. Gideon probably hadn’t taken him far.
Looking around, he sees that that FBI agent isn’t there with him. Underneath the growing discomfort brewing from his current situation, he feels a bit of relief. At least Grace had been able to escape. She should be far away from this hell hole by now. Hopefully she was safe.
Gideon takes a step forward. He’s so large that even that step reverberates around the otherwise silent room.
His voice is just as slimy and cold as Leon remembers when he asks, “Why are you here?”
Leon doesn’t reply. Gideon takes another step towards him, tilting his head a little as he looks him up and down. He smiles.
“Is it for me?” A pause, as he licks his teeth. “…Or for her?”
Leon wants to say he didn’t have any particular person in mind when he’d been choked out and brought to wherever the hell he was now, but he keeps quiet, silently holding Gideon’s gaze as he thinks about what the right move is here. He’s been in enough situations like this throughout his career that the most negative emotions and panic around being captured are far enough on the back burner that he’s able to keep a clear mind. More than anything, he finds himself feeling irritated that he'd been caught in the first place.
Right now, he had to find the best way to get out of this. It was probably better to wait and see what Gideon wanted. He was at his mercy at the moment, better to stay on his good side and not say anything too dumb, probably.
Gideon pauses, staring at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to reply. When Leon doesn’t, he leans over, putting his hands on his knees to presumably get a good look into Leon’s eyes. The fucked up headpiece goggle thing covering his own eyes makes it difficult to see what exactly he’s looking at.
Leon still isn’t sure what its purpose was. It seemed to have some sort of night vision, but the multiple oculars made him think it must have some other function, too. Was it monitoring his vitals? Or was Gideon’s vision really just that shitty?
“We can talk, you know,” Gideon slowly says.
More silence. Leon doesn’t engage, only continues to watch. Gideon waits a few more moments before turning away from Leon with an almost irritated noise.
“Right.”
He grabs something from the nearby medical cart. It shines under what Leon now sees is a lamp, the type they used in operation rooms for surgeries. It takes another second for Leon to notice the thing he’d grabbed was a scalpel.
Seemed like this was going to go the torture route, then. Great.
Leon steels himself. He’d been trained enough for things like this, it didn’t scare him. If Gideon thought this would make him talk, he was wasting his time. Leon just had to stay alive until he could find a way out. He couldn’t afford to die here. The people infected with the T-virus needed a cure, and he intended to find it.
If not through his investigation on Gideon, then some other way. But he would find it. He wouldn’t die here.
Gideon raises the scalpel so that Leon can get a good look at it, holding it at eye level and inspecting it. The rings on his fingers shine alongside its blade.
“If you’d rather not talk, Leon,” he begins. His forked tongue slides across his lips. “Then we can begin your treatment instead.”
Leon clicks his tongue. “The silent treatment, I hope.”
He was doubtful this guy’s treatments could mean anything good, judging by how all his patients became mindless monsters wandering around with the goal of taking a chunk out of someone. He’d rather not become a BOW if he could help it. If he was going to work for the government, he at least wanted to be paid. Keeping his mind intact was also pretty important to him.
Gideon pauses. He lowers the scalpel from eye level to instead point it at Leon.
“You’re an investigator, right?” His voice dangerously drops. “Well investigate.”
He walks over to where Leon is bound, leaning over him with a smile.
“What do you want to know?” he asks. “‘Is this where I conduct my research?’”
He slowly reaches out. In the next moment, his fingers ghost over Leon’s hair, gently brushing it out of his face with a featherlight touch. His voice takes on a new breathiness that wasn’t there before as he quietly murmurs “yes” to his own question.
Leon’s gaze remains forward, unmoving. He keeps his breathing steady. He doesn’t react.
So that’s how it was.
He thought he wouldn’t have to deal with this particular brand of bullshit anymore. Back when he’d been young and naive with hair too long and blonde and his face too rife with baby fat, and then later, when he had grown more into his face, he had received this kind of attention. He had received those kinds of touches, the worst kind of violation, the kind that had left him covered in snot and cum and tears. On numerous occasions.
He knew what people thought of him when they looked at him. He knew people wanted to do this to him. Since the day in the barracks where he’d been left a cum soaked mess as nothing but a twenty-something year old rookie, he’d known. And the times afterwards when he’d stupidly drunk something he shouldn’t have, the times he’d simply been grabbed by the neck and manhandled, he’d known. He couldn’t forget.
But he was nearly fifty years old now. He thought this would be over by now. He thought he would be done with it.
He doesn’t react when Gideon disappears behind him, nor does he react when a large hand slides over his shoulder and intimately pulls open the collar of his shirt. Gideon begins caressing the darkened skin there, gently rubbing and pressing circles into it, the signs of the virus that Leon still hadn’t found a way to cure, the virus he knows Gideon must have something to do with.
The touch is too intimate, too gentle. Leon is once again reminded of his restrained arms, his lack of weapons, the complete mercy he’s at. He doesn’t so much as swallow as he continues to unflinchingly stare forward in an act of feigned indifference. But he can feel it, the tiny bud of panic beginning to unfurl deep inside of him. The fear.
He thought he was done with this. He thought he was safe from it.
Gideon’s face is close to his, his breaths almost trembling, as if he were concentrating on the feeling of Leon’s skin underneath his fingertips. As if he were enjoying it. What the fuck.
“Are the answers to your disease here?” he asks, his gray lips pulling his leathery skin upwards. His voice becomes lower than a whisper, his breaths cresting over Leon’s skin from how close he is. Again, he answers his own question with a purred “yes,” his forked tongue sliding over his golden teeth.
Finally, Leon can’t stop himself from turning his head away, blinking a moment before steeling himself and looking back at Gideon.
He wasn’t afraid. He was used to this. He was trained on what to do in these situations, he wasn’t a naive rookie anymore.
He wasn’t afraid.
“You know, I do have a question,” he says.
Gideon leans in closer as if to hear better, continuing to rub gentle circles over Leon’s shoulder with his thumb, and Leon actively keeps himself from wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”
A pause. Gideon actually seems to take offense. His stretched skin pulls around a frown as he moves away from Leon. At last, the hand that had been touching him is gone, and Leon internally sighs in relief, some of the panic that had been building up going back down as he watches and waits for Gideon’s next move.
Gideon twists his hand a little, walking around Leon so that he’s back in front of him again. He tilts his head, and for a moment, he’s silent as he stares at Leon. The ocular lenses of his goggles just barely twitch. Leon wonders if he’s analyzing something. If that was the case, then he’d analyze Gideon right back.
They stare at one another in silence.
A moment passes, then another. Gideon waves the scalpel in Leon’s direction. It seemed he was done with whatever he was looking for.
“You…” he murmurs, walking back towards him, “are an ignorant fool.”
The scalpel gets closer and closer. Upon realizing Gideon fully intends to cut him with it, Leon looks away. He doesn’t so much as flinch as the blade slices through the skin on the side of his neck. Warmth oozes from the cut.
With that warning, Gideon walks back to the tray he had gotten the scalpel from in the first place, rummaging around as he speaks.
“Do you believe in human evolution?”
Gideon had taken most of his weapons, but as Leon feels around the belt on his hips, he finds there’s still a knife Gideon had missed. It was small, meant as a backup. His larger one was gone, but this should do.
As quietly as he can, he grabs it and begins sawing away at the rope around his wrists. Gideon continues his monologue.
“I have devoted my life to studying it,” Gideon explains, turning back towards Leon and bending over to look him in the eye, getting up in his face. “While you have devoted yours… to failure.”
The rope snaps.
Leon uses all his strength to kick Gideon square in the chest. Gideon stumbles backwards, roaring and charging at Leon, grabbing at his shoulders. Leon kicks him again, hard enough to make him stumble, finishing it with a round house kick that displaces the goggles on his face.
Gideon grabs at them, fumbling to readjust them over his eyes, and Leon frantically looks around, diving for the handgun on the nearby medical cart. He’s able to get it into his hands and flip the safety off before he’s suddenly slammed to the wall across from himself.
He chokes, scrambling to get up, when he’s pinned to the floor by a body on top of him. Gideon pins his knee into Leon’s back, holding him down by the back of his neck. Leon tries to reach for the gun with a wheeze, but it’s just out of his reach. That doesn’t stop him from continuing to weakly try and grab for it anyway. Adrenaline pounds through his veins in a way that makes his heart hurt.
“Too slow,” Gideon growls above him. “I underestimated how much of a fool you were. You continue to surprise me.”
Leon feels as if the air is being blocked from his lungs. Gideon only has his knee to his back, but even then, it feels like he’s carrying the weight of fucking Mount Everest on his spine, he can’t breathe.
His tactical belt is ripped from his waist in an instant, the bullets that had been kept in the waist pouches scattering across the floor around him. The gun, too, is thrown to the other side of the room by Gideon. Leon’s mind races from lightheadedness and panic as he tries to get some form of purchase with such a massive weight pressed against him.
“You’re beginning to test my patience, Leon,” Gideon says against the back of his ear. Leon suppresses his shudder. “What did you think that little maneuver was going to do?”
Leon doesn’t reply. Can’t, not with how close he is to passing out, it feels like. The blood pounds through his head so painfully it feels like his brain is beating instead of his heart. The hand around his neck is so tight, he can’t even swallow. His throat uselessly contracts around soundless noises.
Finally, Gideon loosens his grip around Leon’s neck just enough so that he’s able to breathe again. He coughs, gagging and wheezing as he sucks in what breaths he can manage.
Once Leon has gotten enough air into his lungs to not feel like he’s two seconds away from meeting his maker, he realizes just how much more fucked the situation had become for him. That had been his shot at escape and he’d blown it. He was completely disarmed. Gideon was more than a foot taller than him and clearly wasn’t a regular human, it wouldn’t be possible to defeat him without some kind of weapon.
What the hell should he do? Was there a way out of this? The only thing he can think of is Gideon’s goggles. He still didn’t know what they did, but they must serve some sort of purpose. If Gideon depended on them to see, then breaking them might be his key out. The only problem was figuring out how the hell he’d be able to do that in his current predicament.
Gideon is quiet as he watches Leon uselessly struggle beneath him. Though he’d seemed angered by Leon’s attempt at escape, he seems eerily calm now.
It’s almost worse. No, it’s far worse, more creepy. Leon can’t tell what he’s thinking about. Was he going to kill him in retaliation? But then, if he was going to kill him in the first place, why capture him and take him here? What was the point?
“I’d say your behavior calls for punishment. What do you think, Leon? Should I punish you?” Gideon finally asks.
He keeps Leon’s head pinned to the ground so that his cheek is pressed against the cold floor. In the next moment, his free hand not grabbing his neck trails down Leon’s back to hold him by the dip of his waist. What. The hell.
The bud of panic in Leon’s chest ignites like oil to a flame as Gideon rubs and caresses him through his shirt. He tries to pull himself forward by the arms, but more pressure to the back of his neck has him stopping in his tracks for fear of his neck snapping. He’s uncomfortably aware that Gideon had the strength to do so without a second thought if he truly wanted to. Why the fuck did Umbrella always have so many big bastards working for them?
Gideon’s breath is hot against the back of his neck.
“…You’re afraid,” he whispers. “This scares you… doesn’t it?”
Shame curls through Leon, at how the fear in his heart grows worse by the second, with each rub and caress at his waist, at the feeling of being pinned down. It’s too familiar. Memories he’d spent a lifetime trying his hardest to bury begin to surface, he feels his hands beginning to quiver. He hates how it still affects him so much. He hates it.
He growls, jerking and trying to fight back even though he knows it’s useless. Above him, Gideon laughs.
“Yes, I see it now. You act so tough waving those guns around, but you’re not invincible. You’re not fearless.” His hand that had been caressing his waist trails down to the hem of his shirt, disappearing under it. Leon holds in his shiver at the feeling of an icy hand sliding over his bare skin. “…This isn’t your first time experiencing this.”
Leon hates how Gideon can see straight through him, hates how quickly the panic he’d had control of had snapped the moment he’d been pinned down and compromised. Desperate, his eyes dart around the room again to try and find a way out, a way to escape, but the situation hadn’t changed. He was at Gideon’s mercy. And Gideon…
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.
“I didn’t take you for a therapist,” Leon spits out, his voice rough from the pressure on his throat. Hatred swirls inside him when he hears Gideon chuckle.
“As a scientist, I take pride in studying not just the human body, but the human mind. The psyche. It’s all very fascinating. What makes humans distinctly human?"
His touch is slow and gentle as he runs his hand over Leon’s stomach, his chest, his fingers spreading through the wispy hair there and lightly curling around it.
“Is it their intelligence? Their morality? Maybe it’s their social dynamics with others of their kind?” The fingers curling around his chest hair slide towards a nipple, grazing over it. Leon feels nauseous. “…Or is it their capacity for emotion? Their fears?”
Leon cuts him off. “You said you dedicated your life to this? And you still haven’t figured it out? Seems like you’re pretty shitty at your job.”
Gideon smiles. His clammy hand pulls out from under Leon’s shirt. Any relief Leon might have felt is destroyed by the feeling of Gideon reaching for the waistband of his pants.
“No, I haven’t. But,” he unbuttons Leon’s pants, slowly unzipping them, “I do know what kind of reaction can be born from doing something like this.”
“Don’t,” Leon harshly says.
“Oh? But we haven’t even started your punishment,” Gideon reminds him.
The word had come out of Leon before he’d even realized what he was saying. Jesus, how old was he? He should know by now that that word would never save him. It had never saved him. Why was— what was even the point of Gideon doing this? Of all things, why did Gideon have to—
Fuck. Fuck. He was panicking. He had to calm down. Panicking wouldn’t help him. Right now, Gideon wasn’t planning on killing him. There was still time to escape. He would get out of this. He would get out, and then he would kill Gideon, and then he would find a cure and he would save everyone. He hadn’t expected Gideon to be a perverted bastard, but this wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He could handle it.
Leon’s pants are pulled down his hips and thighs, leaving them pooled at his ankles. He shivers from the exposed skin, kicking and thrashing even more violently. In response, Gideon’s hand withdraws from his neck to roughly fist through his hair. It feels like he’s trying to rip each and every follicle from its scalp.
“I’m sure you very well know that fighting is a waste of both of our time, Leon.”
Leon cringes when Gideon tightens his grip around his hair. It was true there was probably nothing he could do against Gideon in his current state. But damn if he didn’t try to do something.
“Seems to me you’re not all that worried about your mission if you’re wasting time getting your dick wet,” he bites out.
Gideon laughs. “What can I say, Leon? I can’t help but be fascinated by you. You’re… such an interesting character, I feel like I have to see more of you to understand.”
Right, because getting a good look at Leon’s asshole would let him understand all the secrets of his heart. It was logic only an Umbrella researcher could come up with. He doesn’t know why he’s even surprised.
Leon’s underwear is pulled down his thighs to join his discarded pants at his ankles. Finally, he goes still. Closes his eyes as a deep-set resignation saddles itself in his gut.
If this was going to happen, it was better to just let it happen. Maybe it would end sooner this way. Maybe he’d be able to get out and check on Grace faster. Gideon had wanted her for a reason, what if he’d locked her up somewhere else while Leon had been knocked out? He had to confirm she was okay.
His hands curl into fists as Gideon slides his palm over the curve of his ass.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. Too sensually, as if they were lovers. As if this were something they both wanted to do.
Leon doesn’t make a sound as Gideon continues caressing him. He stays completely still even when he pulls apart one of his cheeks to look at his hole.
There’s silence. Gideon’s movements pause as he quietly inspects him. Leon turns his head away in shame.
“There are scars here.” Gideon sounds almost fascinated as he looks towards Leon. “I’ve never seen them in such a place. Did you get stitches?”
Leon holds in a flinch when a large finger traces over the scarred tissue, his nails digging into his fists and forming angry crescents into his palms. The pain is a distraction from the touch and so he tries to focus as much on it as he can, but it’s hard. He feels his composure cracking.
The evidence of how his body had been torn apart and violated is put on full display, examined like he was some kind of exhibit, one of the worst days of his life being put on blast. Memories of that day slam into him like a punch to the gut— the pain, the tears, the terror. He had thought he was going to die.
And then afterwards, that feeling of griminess, like he had been soiled from the inside out. A kind of dirtiness he felt he’d never be able to wash away. Even if he hung his skin out and left it to dry, he would still feel it. It was something he had never been able to completely get over.
It wasn’t the first time he had been violated in that way, but it had been the most violent. Rather than people, it had been one of the bioweapons he had been tasked with putting down.
He had been too slow, too weak. He had made too many mistakes. When it was over, he’d been nearly catatonic. The first few weeks in the hospital were horrible. The months of pain afterward, the reminder of it, he had barely been able to stand it. Then there was the embarrassment, the shame, of having to be called off a mission because his ass had been torn open and he couldn’t even stand without feeling as if he were going to throw up and cry.
They made him write a report. He knew his colleagues knew. For a long time, he couldn’t stand their looks of pity. He knew they meant well, but it had just made everything worse.
That had been two decades ago. He had been young and pretty-faced and too careless for his own good. After that, he had sworn to himself it would never happen again. He’d put a bullet in his head first.
Yet here he was, twenty years later. Pinned down, again. Disarmed, again. He thought he was strong enough. He thought he had reached an age where people wouldn’t be interested in doing this anymore. The wrinkles around his eyes, the pops of gray in his hair, he had thought of them as a shield. He had trained his body so that he would be strong enough to fight back. He thought he was safe.
That’s what he thought.
His brows furrow in discomfort when Gideon dips a thumb inside of him. It’s just the tip, but the lack of any lubricant makes it uncomfortable.
Gideon’s grip around Leon’s hair grows looser when he realizes Leon is no longer fighting back.
“You’re so tense. I think we both know it will feel better if you let yourself relax,” he breathlessly says.
Relax? In any other circumstance, Leon might have laughed from the absurdity. Instead, he only keeps his eyes squeezed shut, focusing on his breathing because if he doesn’t focus he’ll lose any composure he has left and he has to stay focused. He was used to this, he knew how to handle it. All he had to do now was just wait until it was over. Eventually, there was bound to be an opening for him to escape, and he would take it. Until then, he just had to wait until he had the chance. He’d be able to beat Gideon’s ass later.
There’s an awful wet noise as Gideon spits onto his hole, rubbing the sliminess into the wrinkles with the pad of his thumb, dipping his thumb in more this time so that he can rub it along his insides. Leon jerks from the initial wetness but otherwise doesn’t react when Gideon starts fucking him with his thumb.
Gideon hums, twisting his thumb around and lazily pumping it in and out, as if they had all the time in the world. Leon doesn’t understand. In the past, when this had happened, there had always been an underlying tension of impatience, like they wanted to get to the actual fucking as soon as possible. Gideon doesn’t seem particularly rushed. In fact, he seems to enjoy taking his time, leisurely stretching him as he pulls out his thumb and inserts his middle finger, slowly sinking it all the way inside.
It’s so much worse than if he had just pushed him down and fucked him. It gives Leon time to think and feel every movement, the texture of Gideon’s finger. When he adds a second, he can feel the unpleasant stretch, the way his traitorous body opens around the intrusion.
Leon’s breath becomes harsher. Though his lips stay sealed shut, the exhales through his nose gather more force with each moment spent trying to maintain his composure, his dignity. He refuses to make a sound. He refuses to respond. If Gideon was doing this to get a rise out of him, he wouldn’t give him one.
That’s what he tells himself, over and over and over. He plays it again and again in his mind, even as the feeling of disgust grows worse, even as the panic grows worse. The fingers inside of him press against a particular spot that brings about a feeling his brain had spent years trying to forget, and he clenches his jaw so harshly it hurts.
Above him, Gideon chuckles.
“Does that feel good?” As he asks it, he slides over that spot again, beginning to gently rub it with the pad of his fingertips. Leon’s legs quiver. “It’s okay to admit it. Nobody is judging you.”
What the fuck was he talking about? Leon’s teeth grate against each other. He doesn’t reply.
Though he can’t see it, he can hear the smile in Gideon’s voice as he reaches around Leon’s front to encompass his cock in his hand.
“Your body tells me what your mouth is too afraid to admit.”
Leon flinches at the cold touch, disgusted when he realizes he’s actually half hard. His mind races, his heart pounds so violently against his ribcage it feels as if the bones there might crack from the impact. He feels nauseous, he thinks he’s going to vomit.
It was just a psychological response, he reminds himself. It was a natural reaction to this kind of stimulation. It didn’t mean a fucking thing. It didn’t mean he was enjoying this, just that his body was dumb enough to actually get hard to the touch of a literal monster.
Gideon knew this. Yet, he sounds giddy as he starts stroking Leon, gently squeezing the tip of his cock and slowly moving his hand up and down. At the same time, he continues pressing against the spot inside of him with his fingers, and Leon’s shaking grows worse, his breathing harsher. He presses his face into the floor and desperately waits for it to end even as he feels involuntary heat begin to spread through his groin and hips.
“You’re doing so well, Leon. It feels good. You’re leaking so much,” Gideon murmurs, his words breathy with arousal, as if just doing this to Leon was enough for him to get off. “Punishment,” his ass.
Leon’s eyes burn, from anger, from humiliation. He keeps them squeezed shut so tightly shapes and colors dance his otherwise dark vision. The awful squelches in the room pick up as precum beads from the tip of his cock. Gideon uses it as a lubricant, jerking him off faster, rougher, until Leon is twisting his hips to try and get away, the warmth in his gut becoming too familiar, too heavy.
He knows he’s close. He can feel it. He tries to ignore it, tries his hardest to abandon the feeling of pleasure that curls up from his groin to his spine, the kind that makes his scalp numb. He tries so hard to ignore it. He really does.
He doesn’t so much as let out a noise, but his body tenses without his permission. It clenches around the fingers buried inside of him, his hips jerking as cum spills into Gideon’s waiting palm.
“See, there you go. Let it all out,” Gideon breathlessly says.
Leon goes limp.
His hands shake, his chest heaves. Hatred permeates throughout his entire being as aftershocks of his orgasm pleasantly wash through his limbs. He wants to die. No, he wants to kill Gideon. Fuck, he’s going to be sick.
Gideon brings his hand covered in cum to his mouth, smiling as his tongue flicks out to messily lap it up. He hums when he’s fully cleaned his hand off, leaning over Leon and kissing his neck, his back, his waist, smoothing his hands up and down his body.
“Delicious.”
Leon doesn’t move when he hears the sound of pants unzipping, resignation heavily settling into his bones. His head hurts, he feels sick. He just wants this to end. He just wants it to be fucking over with already.
He’s flipped onto his back. It’s so much worse than being on his stomach. He growls, turning his head away to try and hide his face, but Gideon reaches out to grab his chin, forcing him to look at him.
Leon glares. He’d rather not have to breathe in Gideon’s nasty fucking breath if he had to do this. You would think a doctor knew what toothpaste was, but apparently not this guy. Because of course not.
Gideon stares at him for a long time.
“…You’re so beautiful,” he eventually whispers, almost as if to himself.
Leon doesn’t reply. Just glares and glares even as his head pounds and his heart feels like it’ll explode within his chest from panic and exhaustion and hysteria and hatred. Gideon tenderly rubs his thumb against Leon’s cheek. If Leon had more of a mind to, he would’ve tried biting it off. But he can’t think straight over the fact that it was all fucking happening again. He can’t— shit, he can’t concentrate at all.
“Even when afraid, you still glare at me like that. Fascinating.” Gideon’s voice is soft. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Leon. Sexual intercourse is a natural part of life, among the vast majority of creatures.”
“If you’re going to fuck me, just do it already,” Leon growls.
Just end this already. Just get it over with.
“Patience, Leon. What fun is there in rushing things like this?”
“I didn’t come here to have fun.”
His voice is shaking more than he’d like. Leon swallows down the lump in his throat as he looks up at the creature-like man pinning him down, looks down at his naked thighs, sees how helpless he is. A feeling he hasn’t felt in years makes it to the forefront of his brain and sits stagnant there, a specific kind of fear he thought he’d gotten over.
He wants to run away. He wants to be saved.
He’s scared.
“Oh, Leon.” Gideon pulls him close, as if they were embracing, gently stroking his hair like a lover would. “Don’t make that face.”
Leon squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He rears an arm back, slamming his fist into Gideon’s back with all of his strength, but it doesn’t so much as budge him. He was completely powerless without his weapons. If Gideon had been a normal man it might have been possible to get away, but he was a monster. What was Leon supposed to do against him like this?
For a few more moments, in a cruel imitation of tenderness, Gideon continues to simply hold Leon and stroke his hair as Leon keeps himself still and imagines himself anywhere else. Gideon eventually pulls away to lick stripes over Leon’s neck, his chest, the dip of his hips, seeming particularly interested in the patches of black twisted tissue he finds, the evidence of the virus circulating throughout his body. Eventually, he settles himself between Leon’s legs with a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh.
With both hands large enough to completely circle around Leon’s thighs, Gideon grabs onto them, pushing them open so that Leon’s legs are spread wide open and he’s put completely on display. Leon’s eyes fly open when something soft and wet touches his hole.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he exclaims, bucking his hips in disgust, but Gideon holds him steady as he presses his tongue to the most intimate part of his body.
Gideon doesn’t respond as he swirls his tongue around the puckered hole, pushing it inside, and Leon genuinely thinks he’s going to wretch, right then and there. He chokes around the bile in his throat, feeling his composure slipping away by the second as he twists his hips, hits Gideon, tries to drag himself away by his forearms, but Gideon’s grip on his thighs is crushing.
No matter what he does, he can’t get away. He isn’t used to being so weak. He was so used to being able to— to do something. This was—
Gideon’s tongue is unnaturally cold, making the feeling of it inside of him even stronger. Leon can feel each and every movement as it wriggles inside of him, presses against his oversensitive nerves wrung out from orgasm.
Gideon adds one finger, then another, the sounds of his slurping and licking obscene as Leon tries not to puke, almost lightheaded from the disgusting sensation. The tip of Gideon’s tongue presses against that traitorous spot inside of him, and Leon can’t stop the involuntary bucking of his hips to get away, nor can he stop the way his thighs refuse to stop shaking.
Finally, finally, Gideon removes his tongue and fingers, looking down at Leon with his mouth slightly parted, his breaths low and heavy as he licks his shining lips. Leon’s eyes just barely open to see Gideon reaching down for his cock, slowly pumping it. A chill goes down his spine.
It’s big, as big in circumference as his forearm and nearly the length of it, too, gray in pallor just like the rest of his skin, precum angrily beading at the darkened tip.
It was too big. It would tear him apart. He would be torn open again, just like he had been so many years ago.
What would he do if he was too injured by this to properly continue his mission? What about Grace, what if she still needed help getting out? What about the people who depended on him for a cure? He couldn’t let them down because of something so— because of something so pitifully stupid as this.
Adrenaline surges through Leon’s wrung out body. With a sudden burst of motivation, he thrashes, trying to aim for Gideon’s chest, face, anything to get him to stop, but Gideon only leans over him, his body pushing the front of Leon’s thighs to his chest, folding him in half. Their difference in size is even more apparent as Gideon looms over him, his body completely encompassing Leon’s.
He takes hold of Leon’s flailing wrists with one hand, pinning them above his head as he leans closer to him, so close their noses nearly touch. Minute trembles quiver through Leon as he feels that monstrous thing pressing at his hole, rubbing against it.
“Relax your body. This doesn’t have to be a punishment,” Gideon says.
“Fuck you,” Leon spits out. Through his trembling lips, that’s the only thing he can gather the strength to say.
Gideon only smiles. In the next moment, he begins pushing inside.
Leon’s mouth drops open.
A wounded sound escapes him before he can hold it in, the feeling of his body being stretched to its limits overwhelming, an awful feeling of too much shrieking through every nerve of his being. He balks, jerking, his body instinctively trying to escape from the intrusion as his hips buck and twist to try and get it out.
Even with the surprisingly thorough preparation Gideon had given him, it hurts. It feels as if he’s being speared through with a stake, his insides rearranged to make way for the cock spearing through him. Open mouthed gasps choke from his throat as he struggles to breathe. He’s sure he’s being ripped apart from the inside out.
He’s felt bad pain throughout his life, terrible pain, I’m-about-to-die pain. He’s been shot and stabbed. He’s been at death’s door more times than he could count. But fuck.
Gideon cradles his head with a hand, resting his lips against the crown of his hair. “Breathe, Leon. Just a little more. I know you can take it.”
Leon wants to say there’s no way he can fucking take it, not without having his guts rearrange themselves, but he can’t talk, and so he only wheezes for air as he shakes his head, hard tears pricking his eyes.
“You’re doing so well,” Gideon groans, low and satisfied as he presses so deep inside it feels like he reaches Leon’s stomach. “Mm… You’re so warm.”
After what feels like an eternity he spends being thoroughly impaled, finally, finally, Gideon bottoms out. He stops moving when it feels as if he’s inches away from coming back out through Leon’s throat.
“See? It wasn’t so hard, was it?” Gideon asks.
Leon’s eyes stay shut, he refuses to look, refuses to respond. He hadn’t been able to help the hurt noise that had escaped him from the initial penetration, but he takes back ahold of himself now, forcing himself to calm down even as every muscle in his body screams at him to get away. He bites his lips so hard he tastes iron.
Gideon’s fingers brush over his face, sliding over his quivering lips, his furrowed brows, the wrinkles near his eyes.
“…Won’t you look at me?”
When Leon still doesn’t respond, Gideon sighs. He presses Leon’s quivering thighs even deeper against his chest, beginning to slowly drag himself almost all the way out before pushing as far back in as he can, like he was trying to gouge a bloody wound into him.
Leon’s stomach tenses from the effort of being silent. He feels like he’s going to pass out at the feeling of the cock inside of him pressing deeper, stretching him to the very limit. Wet squelches fill the room with each of Gideon’s thrusts. Leon can’t tell if it’s from his blood or Gideon’s saliva or both. Warmth slides down the back of his ass, dripping onto the floor.
The feeling of being pinned under such a large body is so oppressive he can barely breathe, the sheer weight of Gideon crushing his chest. Above him, Gideon moans and sighs and grunts, his hands going from cradling Leon’s head to holding his hips in place for more solid thrusts. Leon doesn’t even have to look to know his fingers are leaving bruises.
Leon is able to hold his noises in for one, two thrusts, but the moment Gideon picks up a speed faster than a slow drag, he chokes. His hands scrabble against the floor for purchase yet find none, small, hurt noises ripping themselves from his throat.
It’s difficult to think, difficult to concentrate on anything but pain, the feeling of something being jammed in and out of him, as if pushing all the way to the very core of his being. Each thrust is accentuated by the slap of Gideon’s balls against his ass, the obscene slaps of skin against skin. It feels like his hips might shatter from the sheer force of the thrusts, it hurts.
Without realizing it, at some point, Leon had stopped struggling. His body is limp as he’s jerked back and forth against the cold floor.
Suddenly, he’s twenty years old again. He’s being held down by the neck as his pants are yanked down his hips. He’s screaming as a creature forces itself inside of him without a care for his pleas, his cries, continuing to use his body even after he’d gone delirious from the pain and passed out.
It was all the same. He had never been able to move past it. He would never be strong enough to prevent it from happening. He realizes that now.
Silently, tears well in his eyes.
Leon tries to hold them in. He desperately tries to cling onto the last of his dignity, the only thing keeping him from unraveling into a pathetic mess. But, as he’s jostled back and forth, he finally can’t hold it in any longer.
He turns his head to the side as tears silently slide down his cheeks and drip onto the floor.
“Didn’t I tell you to look at me?” Gideon orders, but it’s as if his voice is underwater. Leon can barely hear him, the dam in his heart breaking open so that all emotion he’d been trying to hold back floods out.
How useless was he? He was supposed to be fulfilling an assignment. He’d been assigned to figure out what the hell was happening with the T-Virus and find a cure. If there was some kind of new outbreak, he would stop it. If there were people who needed to be saved, he would save them. That was his job. That’s what he was supposed to be doing right now.
How did this end up happening?
He shudders, his vision blurred with tears as Gideon holds him by the jaw, forcing him to look at himself. Through his blurry vision, he sees a twisted smile of gold.
“…You’re so pretty when you cry.”
It was a phrase he’d heard before and one he thought he’d never hear again. A sudden sense of sorrow and anguish fills Leon.
Now and twenty years ago, it was still the same. His body would always be treated like a commodity. He wonders, distantly, if it would only stop if he was dead, or if someone would dig up his rotting corpse just to violate him one last time.
The pain in his heart grows worse than the pain of the invasion within his body. His tears feel sticky against his burning skin.
The slaps of skin against skin grow louder and louder. He can tell Gideon is close from the increasing ruggedness of his breaths, the newfound sloppiness of his thrusts. At some point he takes Leon’s cock into his hand again, beginning to jerk him off, but Leon is so out of it he barely even feels the sensation.
His eyes are half lidded when Gideon finally comes, sinking as deep inside of him as possible, as if he were trying to puncture his stomach. An uncomfortable warmth fills him, as well as a pressure that, if he had been more conscious, might have made him squirm. He only twitches when Gideon pulls out of him.
Cum oozes out of his puffy hole and onto the floor, smearing the insides of his thighs. Leon’s chest heaves, his eyelashes clinging to crusted tears, his throat sore and aching.
Gideon stands up, carefully tucking himself in with a pleased sigh. “You’re better than I could have hoped, Leon. I feel like I’ve learned a lot from this.”
Is that what he took from this? Was this just some kind of experiment for him?
Leon blankly stares up at the ceiling. Somewhere deep inside of him aches with an awful feeling of emptiness, his insides throbbing. He doesn’t move.
Gideon frowns down at him, waving a hand. “Was I too rough for you? The preparation should have been adequate enough…”
Leon miserably closes his eyes.
The room goes silent. There are heavy footsteps as Gideon walks around, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself now that he’d “gotten so off track,” in his words, pacing around the room and mumbling to himself.
He wouldn’t be expecting Leon to do anything now, probably. Slowly, Leon’s eyes open, just enough to check Gideon’s location in the room. When he sees that Gideon’s back is turned to him, he summons all the strength he can muster. In a surge of adrenaline and hysteria, he shoves himself to his feet and lunges across the room to where Gideon had thrown the gun.
Two seconds, and it’s in his hand. By the third second, Gideon is lunging for him, but Leon is already shooting, blindly emptying the mag into the direction of Gideon’s face. There’s a shatter as the glass in one of the lenses breaks.
Gideon yells, covering his face with his hand and fumbling to adjust his goggles as he turns around and runs for the exit, a wooden staircase opening for him. Leon tries to run after him but trips over his pants pooled at his ankles, falling to the floor with a pained grunt.
“Until next time, Leon,” Gideon calls out, laughing, and Leon’s face twists. He raises the gun again, continuing to shoot even as the staircase closes and Gideon disappears. His finger spasms against the trigger even when all it does is click.
His breaths are fast, his vision is blurry. He closes his eyes, dropping the gun and putting his face into his hands. He lets out a long breath.
He was fine now. It was over.
It was over.
Leon wills for his hands to stop shaking. His legs, too, won’t stop trembling. Pain pulses from deep inside of him, his hips hurt. Everything fucking hurts. His heart hurts, it’s beating so fast. It feels like he can feel his blood slamming against the walls of his veins.
Gideon had cum inside him. What if he caught some kind of venereal disease? Though, if he didn’t find a cure for the T-Virus soon, he doubted he’d have time to worry about that anyway.
For a few minutes, Leon sits on the floor.
Slowly, the adrenaline painfully pounding through him simmers down to a flicker, before completely sputtering out and leaving his body weak and exhausted. Static plays in his mind.
He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to get up. He just wants to close his eyes and turn off his mind and disappear from conscious thought for a while. But there were still people who needed to be saved. He had promised to himself that he would find a cure.
He had to get up. For them.
Slowly, gingerly, he pushes himself up, biting down a grunt at the jolt of pain that shoots through him. Full of apprehension, he glances down between his legs to inspect the damage, surprised to see only a minimal amount of blood, the fluid leaking out of him sticky and pink. It seemed he wasn’t severely injured. At least, not nearly to the extent as last time.
That knowledge should reassure him, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t feel much of anything as he slowly picks himself up and pulls his pants and underwear back on. It feels disgusting against his soiled thighs, but what else could he do? He swallows and takes it, wearily looking around the room.
Leon takes a long breath.
He scrubs his hands into his eyes, wiping at the wetness even when his lips threaten to crumble. In the next moment, he turns on comms.
“…Sherry? Are you there?” he murmurs.
“Leon! I’ve been trying to reach you, are you okay?” comes the quick reply, her voice dripping with concern.
Just hearing the sound of her voice makes some unnamed feeling swirl through Leon. He clenches his jaw. His head pounds.
“I’m fine. I… I had a talk with Victor.” He swallows. “Did you get me the files I asked for?”
“The floor plan of the facility? Yes, I’ll send it to you now.” She pauses. She must have heard something in his voice, because her words grow soft. “…Leon? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Leon presses his thumb to his forehead. His hands won’t stop shaking.
“…It’s nothing. I’m okay, Sherry.”
Sherry is quiet for a while.
“I’m here for you if you need me, Leon. You know that, right?”
Did she notice something? Surely she couldn’t know. Leon swallows down the wet lump in his throat. Smiles, pretending that she can see it. Hoping that she can hear it.
“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
He swallows again.
“I’m going to make my way to Gideon’s office now,” Leon eventually says. It’s the last thing he wants to do. It’s the very last thing. But this was his job, and there were people to save. “I think I’ll be able to find the answers to what we’ve been looking for there.”
“Be careful, Leon.”
“…I know.”
Leon closes comms, lowering his head into his hands. He lets out a breath.
Gideon’s office. He would head to Gideon’s office now.