OfficerKennedy, purveyor of magnificent Leon/Chris angst, humor, and chaptered fics, requested me to write about what Leon does on his day off. I'll be honest, I forgot totally about the day off thing and somehow it became dirty Leon/Chris. I guess Chris is what Leon does on his day off. *shrug*
But anyway, months after the teaser I left on my DA, I have finally finished it! I hope you enjoy!
In case it isn't clear, this is from Chris' point of view.
I do not own Resident Evil, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
He's brutal. A frantic symphony of teeth, lips, and tongue as he assaults my mouth. The relief in my heart screams for me to lay back and take it, but what fun would that be? I eagerly return his frantic affection, not just to match him, but to outdo him.
It's suddenly a race, and whoever wins gets to claim what he's conquered. He's reaching for my wrists, trying to pin me down, to make me vulnerable. I won't have it. I throw his hands off me and grab his wrists, taking both in one large hand and pinning them behind his back, squeezing his tight, firm ass with my free hand. My cock strains, locked away beneath layers of denim and cotton, grinding on the solidity of his hips.
He's gasping above me and I can feel his erection firm against my thigh, but the contact doesn't last. He frees himself from my grasp with a sudden and strong roll. He's on his side now, and I lunge after him, but he rolls again, landing beside the bed and rolling out of the way as I topple gracelessly beside him.
The short fall barely phases me but he's already back on me, pinning my hands above my head and grinding desperately on my cock. Shit. The friction is exhilarating, but I need more. Need his bare skin, need him helpless beneath me as I ravage him like the hungry animal I've become.
He bites my lower lip and I growl against his mouth. He thinks he's won now. He's letting one wrist go to fist his hand in my shirt, lifting it up, reveling in the feel of my excitement-warmed skin. I let him bask in his supposed victor, but I'm plotting a counterattack.
I feel his warmth leave my mouth and I tell myself I'm not disappointed, even as he mouths his way down my neck, shoulder, chest, lower and lower until he's clawing at my belt and my erection finally springs free. He pounces on it, warm hands and mouth lavishing my sensitive skin with torrents of rough and hungry pleasure.
Forget the counterattack, my resolve is melting into his hot mouth. He's growling against me, panting and gagging as he sucks my cock in earnest, and Jesus fucking Christ, I'm lost. Drowning, writhing, gasping in the wake of my fiery lover's brutal assault.
I don't remember him losing his pants, but they're gone, and I watch him with heavy lidded eyes as he climbs over my hips, pumping me a few times before he positions me at his entrance, lowering himself inch by inch before he settles with a pleasured sigh.
"Mmm…" He murmurs, eyes slowly closing, practically licking his lips in pleasured contentment. "Shit, Chris…"
And so he begins. Hips rising and falling on my cock, delicious sounds falling from his lips with each pass. Leon has always felt incredible, hot and tight and quite honestly better than any woman I've ever had. I watch him with greedy eyes, watch as his skin begins to shine with sweat and exertion, watch as he guides his hand to his swollen cock. Yes.
He re-balances himself, gasping breathlessly as his hand makes contact. Wraps his fingers around his shaft to stroke himself eagerly. With the visual alone, a groan is ripped from my throat.
My head hits the floor and my eyes ease shut, guttural groans of ecstasy pouring freely from my throat. I don't hear it, though. Every moan he makes, every sound is deafening in my ears. It's the only thing I can hear, he is the only thing I can see. He feels like heaven and I never want it to stop, never want to leave this place of sweet euphoria.
I can feel the pressure of an orgasm rushing upon me, but it's too soon. I need more, more of him and everything he has to give. I gaze upon him, his eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open, working his cock with slow deliberate strokes. It's a beautiful sight, but he's not mine yet. I need to top him.
He doesn't mind when I flip him onto his back, slamming his ass as hard as I can and slapping his hand away from his erection. It's mine. He's mine. And I take care of what's mine. I resume his masturbation for him and he's lost again, melting in my arms.
He claws at me with his hands, scratching at my belly, my chest, anything he can reach as I take the two of us to a new high. He's swearing and hissing between long, throaty moans. He's losing himself and it's the most sexy thing in the whole god damn world. Dirty blond hair tangled and wild, toned body glistening with sweat as his shirt rides up with each thrust. I can tell he's close by the way his hands ball into fists, he grits his teeth and tries in vain to stifle his moans.
There are many men who will tell you that watching a woman climax is the most beautiful thing. I can't say I agree, as I watch this man, my man, shudder and shake and shatter into tiny little pieces, his seed spurting in hot sticky ropes over both of us. I feel his cock twitching in my hand and in a matter of seconds, I'm coming too.
Dizzy and delirious from the force of my climax, I slowly withdraw from him. I can't tear my eyes from him, lying there boneless, chest heaving. Beautiful.
In a few hours we would decide the floor isn't a good place to doze off and snuggle. We'd return to our bed, sheets pulled off the mattress and blankets strewn about from our wrestling match. But it wouldn't matter. As long as he's close, it'll never matter.