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Chris slammed the hotel room door shut with more force than necessary, the flimsy wood rattling in its frame like it might splinter. The mission had been a nightmare — B.O.W.s swarming the derelict facility, half the support team down, and Leon Scott Kennedy treating the whole clusterfuck like his personal playground. Now they were stuck in this dingy roadside motel on the edge of the city, extraction delayed until dawn. One room. Two beds. And Chris’s patience hanging by a thread.
He dropped his gear bag with a heavy thud, rolling his shoulders to ease the burn in his muscles. His knuckles were raw, his side throbbed from a lucky graze, and all he wanted was a hot shower and silence.
Leon, of course, had other ideas.
“You look like shit, Redfield,” he said, kicking off his boots and collapsing onto the bed closest to the door. He stretched out lazily, still in his filthy tactical jacket, hands laced behind his head. That trademark smirk was already in place, sharp as hell. “What happened? Couldn’t keep up with me out there? I thought the big BSAA tank was supposed to be unstoppable.”
Chris ignored him, stripping off his own jacket and tossing it over the chair. The room smelled of mildew and old cigarettes, the single lamp buzzing faintly overhead. He headed straight for the bathroom.
“Aww, c’mon. Don’t give me the silent treatment,” Leon called after him, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I saved your ass twice tonight. You could at least say thank you, big guy.”
Chris paused in the doorway, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Saved my ass? You nearly got us both killed with that rooftop stunt. I gave you a direct order, but you didn't listen, as always.”
Leon laughed — that low, cocky sound that always crawled under Chris’s skin. He sat up, shrugging off his jacket and peeling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Lean muscles flexed under scarred skin, the dim light catching every old wound. “Order? Please. I was improvising. You should try it sometime instead of stomping around like an angry bull. Worked out, didn’t it?”
“Improvising,” Chris growled, turning fully now. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, glaring down at Leon. “That’s what you call ignoring protocol and running off half-cocked? You’re a walking liability, Kennedy.”
Leon’s eyes gleamed with challenge. He leaned back on his elbows, legs spread just enough to look deliberately provocative. “Liability? That’s rich coming from Mr. Punch-First-Ask-Questions-Later. Face it, Redfield. You get off on chasing me. All that frustration bottled up… what are you gonna do about it?”
The air in the room thickened instantly. Chris’s pulse hammered in his ears. Leon knew exactly what he was doing — pushing every button, playing the brat like it was his favorite game. Months of buried tension, and mutual resentment had led to this exact moment more than once. Chris hated how much he wanted it. Hated how Leon’s sharp mouth and defiant stare made his blood run hot.
“Shut the fuck up,” Chris snarled.
Leon’s smirk widened. “Make. Me.”
That was the breaking point.
Chris crossed the room in two strides, grabbing Leon by the front of his pants and hauling him up. Their mouths crashed together violently; teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance. Leon tasted like whiskey and gunpowder, pushing back just enough to make it a battle. His hands shoved at Chris’s chest, but his hips rolled forward, grinding against him.
Chris broke the kiss only to shove Leon back onto the bed. The mattress groaned under the impact. Leon laughed breathlessly, already kicking off his pants. “That all you got? Thought you were pissed off, not playing nice.”
“Shut. Up.” Chris yanked his own shirt off, revealing the heavy, battle-hardened muscle that dwarfed Leon’s leaner frame. He pinned Leon down, wrists slammed above his head with one massive hand. Leon squirmed beneath him, arching up deliberately, cock already hard and leaking against his stomach.
“Make me repeat myself again and I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you,” Chris warned, voice rough.
Leon’s eyes darkened with heat. “Promises, promises. Come on, show me what that BSAA rage can do.”
Chris bit down hard on the side of Leon’s neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. Leon hissed, hips jerking up. Chris shoved Leon’s thighs apart with his knees and freed his own thick cock, stroking it roughly. He didn’t bother with much prep — just enough spit, two fingers, and then sheer force. He pushed his cock inside in one brutal thrust.
Leon cried out, body bowing tight, but even then the brat in him surfaced. “That all? I’ve had rougher from—”
Chris cut him off with a punishing snap of his hips, driving deeper. The bedframe slammed against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts. He kept Leon’s wrists pinned, using his free hand to grip a sharp hipbone hard enough to bruise. Every stroke was fueled by the night’s frustrations. The way Leon had grinned mid-firefight, the sarcastic quips over comms, the deliberate defiance.
“You’re such a fucking pain in the ass,” Chris growled, sweat already slicking his back. He angled his hips, hitting that spot that made Leon’s mouth fall open in a silent cry.
“Your favorite pain,” Leon shot back, voice wrecked but still smug. He clenched deliberately around Chris, milking him. “Bet you’ve been hard since the chopper, thinking about shutting me up like this.”
Chris released Leon’s wrists only to flip him onto his stomach. He yanked Leon’s hips up and drove back in, deeper this way. Leon moaned into the pillow, fingers clawing at the sheets. Chris fisted a hand in Leon’s messy hair, pulling his head back just enough to hear every gasp and curse.
“Still talking shit?” Chris panted, pounding into him relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the cheap room. He reached around, wrapping a hand around Leon’s cock and stroking him roughly; tight, fast. Leon shuddered, pushing back to meet every thrust like the greedy little whore he was.
“Harder, Chris! Fuck, don’t you dare hold back!”
Chris obliged, slamming into him with enough force to make the headboard crack against the wall again. Leon’s taunts finally dissolved into broken moans and whimpers. Chris felt the tension coiling in his own gut, the mission’s leftover rage mixing with raw, filthy need. He leaned down, biting Leon’s shoulder, tasting salt and sweat.
Leon came first with a shout, spilling over Chris’s fist and onto the sheets. His body clamped down hard, dragging Chris over the edge right after him. Chris buried himself deep, groaning low as he filled Leon, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.
They collapsed in a sweaty tangle, breathing ragged. Chris pulled out slowly, watching Leon twitch and hiss at the sensitivity. For a long moment, the only sound was their heavy breathing and the distant hum of highway traffic outside.
Then Leon rolled onto his back, that infuriating smirk already creeping back despite the flush on his face and the mess streaked across his abs. “Not bad for a grump. But you know… you could’ve gone harder. I’ve seen you bench-press more than that.”
Chris groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing a heavy arm over his eyes. “You’re impossible. I should’ve left you in that facility.”
Leon chuckled, scooting closer despite everything. He poked Chris in the ribs, then trailing lazy fingers over the other man’s chest. “Nah. You’d miss this too much. Admit it, the only reason you put up with my ‘bratty bullshit’ is because you secretly love me.”
Chris elbowed him half-heartedly, but didn’t push him away. The annoyance still simmered, but it was quieter now, tempered by exhaustion and the hazy afterglow. Leon’s body was warm against his side, marked with bruises that matched the ones Chris knew he’d be wearing tomorrow.
“Next time you pull that rooftop crap,” Chris muttered, “I’m tying you to the damn chopper.”
Leon’s laugh was soft this time, almost fond. “Kinky. I might let you.”
They lay there in the dim light, the mission’s ghosts fading for a few precious hours. Chris knew the morning would bring new orders, and Leon’s mouth running again. But for tonight, in this shitty hotel room, the sex had burned off enough of the edge to let them pretend it was almost peaceful.