The endless rounds of majini climbed over the fences that surrounded what felt like an adult play-pin from Hell. They ran at the duo with weapons ranging from crumbling, bony hands to machine guns whirling the air into a crack of fiery disorientation. It became unclear whether friends or mindless creatures were shooting off clips into the limited space until sounds, no matter what they were, became one giant buzz of familiarity. Chris Redfield and Leon Kennedy stood back-to-back amongst the horror, squeezing off their triggers into the rough aims of majini heads. Ammunition wasn't quite at the point of concern, but conservation was both of their default survival tactics. They had to last through this long enough to regroup with Chris' sister Claire and his partner Jill Valentine at a base just outside of the overridden village.
The mix of sounds into one constant blur was shattered with the whirr of a chainsaw kicking and sputtering to life. Breaking their position, the two men turned to look at each other with startled, blank expressions. They looked all around, spinning in a confusion of foreign architecture until Chris was struck with a rushed scream of "There!" from Leon and the general jab of a finger into the air. It didn't take much more than that to pick out where the threat stood; the tall, shirtless majini revved his weapon far above his sack-encased head with his one eye glaring down in search for them.
"Chris?" Leon whispered, "Get to higher ground. Our only chance is that eye of his."
Chris glanced around at their odds, seeing yet more majini clambering across the shaky boundaries with spears and axes. There seemed no end to this fight and leaving Leon down there by his lonesome was suicide. "No," he replied, taking hold of his partner-for-the-time-being's arm. "We can't afford to split with so many…"
"I can take the normal ones with a handgun… You have the rifle; use it," Leon nudged Chris away, bringing up his sights once more in defense. "There's no way we can handle them and that Chainsaw Majini."
Chris backed up, glancing over his shoulder to the long barreled gun set tightly on his back holster. It would be so easy to take hold of and blow every single last one of these creatures to Hell, but for what? They'd keep coming. "No, we need to leave."
"Can you tell me how the fuck we do that when we'll have all these sons'a bitches following our asses back to base to kill us all?" Leon growled impatiently, rapidly firing at the heads of anything that dared move. "Get to higher ground before it sees us!"
"It's not happeni-," Chris was cut off by the dust in front of them kicking up at the feet of the roaring majini. Chainsaw in hand, it reared its weapon menacingly. "Shit!"
The two hit the dirt, rolling down and away from where the spinning belt cut into the dry ground. Collecting themselves onto their feet, they regrouped a few feet behind the problematic monster.
"Chris…," Leon panted, holding his right shoulder loosely. "Get up there… Somewhere."
"I already told you-."
"Redfield, I don't care if I have to fucking blow you to make you get up there as long as you can wait for it until we get back to base. Get up there and get your sights on that eye of his and don't miss," Leon seethed, clutching his gun handle in pain.
"Leon-?" Chris began, startled.
"I'm fine," Leon assured, pulling his weapon back up as the majini relocated them. "Get up there." Without farther word, Chris hustled away, clambering up a jagged ladder of boxes and crates to one of the tin roofs above. He swept the battlefield below in search for his comrade, finding him blasting away at countless former humans in attempt to move away from the charging majini. He could tell from the pattern of turns that the only truly living person below him was leading their concern in a circular path; back around to face Chris' barrel for a nice long stretch of time.
As soon as he could see the color of Leon's face through his naked eye, he set his sights up through the scope of his rifle, hell-bent on getting a shot within the first few seconds of sight the Chainsaw Majini had with him. His nerves kicked up as the Raccoon City survivor left his range of automatic acknowledgment with the possibility of him being injured without his ability to aid. He knew the man could handle himself and many others as well, but Leon S Kennedy was human after all and also shoved against increasingly impossible odds.
His gnawing fear of his partner's vulnerability was broken by the sack-wrapped head of the majini flashing through his scope, chainsaw wielded in deteriorating arms. He pulled back the strength of his lens, settling the focus to the strained eye long enough to put a shot into place. Roaring, the majini fell backward, clutching his face with such concentration that the racing Leon went undetected long enough to hook him cleanly. Stumbling back, he dropped his hand inches away from his eye; far enough for a trained trigger to slice another bullet through the vulnerable sphere. A war cry screeched the air, leaving Chris lucky to sit at a far enough distance to remain unaffected by it. Leon, however, clapped his gloved hands over his bare ears, squeezing his eyes shut and stumbling away all-too-fast to fall upon his back. Mortified, the oldest Redfield child crouched and watched as the majini took Kennedy's reaction into account; he, or it rather, continued the wail as it charged the unarmed man lying on the dusty ground.
Racing to reload, Chris welcomed the hesitance of the attack as the Chainsaw Majini pumped his weapon victoriously into the filthy wind, proud and screaming as he waited out his time to attack with gloating. With everything in place, the BSAA agent above all the infected ex-humans whom surrounded the most dangerous monster of all aimed the crisscrossed red lines at the bulging eye. As the whirl of ribbed metal began its descent, the lead shattered the majini's only real sense, sight, and left the chainsaw to fall unattended. Horrified by the fault in his plan, Chris jumped to his feet, dropping his rifle onto the clanging tin roof below to watch the spinning contraption come down.
Kicking up the dry clumps of African soil, the chainsaw chugged to a grinding halt as it dug into the ground inches from Leon's head. The encircling majini backed away slowly, abandoning their post as if by an unspoken demanding force. No agitators appeared to linger among the crowd; not one of them gripping the familiar bashed megaphones.
Chris groped around through his various pockets and belt boxes, finally taking hold of his stash of incendiary grenades. Pulling the pin from one of the faded red barrel bodies, he chucked the device into the farthest wing of majini, quickly picking up another and another until no one below stood.
Collecting his rifle onto his back holster, Chris jumped straight down onto ground zero. He hustled to Leon and held out a hand to the agent, who took it with gratitude. Breathless and achy, the dusty man held fast once more to his shoulder, rubbing it with painful tilts of his head.
"I think it's outta place," he said simply, shifting it around. His voice was hoarse with overdue fear, his clothes dirtied with under-watered soil, and his face contorted with discomfort. It was a rare sight to see Leon Kennedy so out of it, but it wasn't a blissful one. Weighed with worry, Chris shifted from heel to heel anxious to seek safety.
"I think our wave is over for today," he assured, resting a hand on the shoulder that remained in its familiar position. "Let's get back."
Smiling in return, Leon holstered his handgun and began the climb up and over the fence toward their makeshift base.
After proper medical attention for Leon and a strewn together meal, Jill and Claire resided to watch duties in the lower portions of the abandoned facility. The two men, however, paired in a room on the third story where sleeping quarters were bountiful. Leon was laid to seek rest for his minor injuries, which he explained quite efficiently that it was unneeded. Chris was commanded by the girls to keep an eye on the man to insure no farther injury, which he took as a laugh. Leaning against one of the bunk beds opposite Kennedy, Chris stood nonchalantly with his arms folded in boredom.
"Thank you," Leon broke the silence, picking at the blanket beneath where he sat cross-legged on a top bunk. He kept his eyes on the brown jacket of his that lay cast aside to the corner of the bed, vaguely feeling below Chris for the near death on his part. He felt responsible for the tension as of their return in the small unit of partners, causing an immense drop in self-respect.
"Eh, it's what partners do, Kennedy," Chris brushed it off, already knowing the shit feeling the opposing man felt; everyone around them had been there at least once. It was an unavoidable position in their line of work, something to take seriously during, but to act as if nothing after.
"I know… It was just so close though… I'm so used to being in control that it frightens me to come so close to the mortician's table…," Leon confessed, finding it hard to look even at the dusty old coat. "I have nothing to give in return except my expressing of gratitude."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Chris chuckled, shaking his head slowly.
"What do you want?" the younger man asked in his confusion, finding no ties to anything he'd want as he looked to the man before him.
"Nothing more than a man to keep his promise, Mr. Kennedy."
"A promise…? When did-." Shit, Leon thought. During the mission. "Chris… That wasn't a fully loaded deal… I was only joking-."
"Should'a thought of that sooner," he laughed in return, smirking in amusement. Leon sat still for a moment, staring in uncertainty. He uncrossed his legs and slid down from the bunk, keeping eye contact with the oldest Redfield.
"Chris…," he shook his head, striding closer to meet the man face-to-face. "Are you kidding?"
"Relax, Kennedy. I am," Chris smiled, nudging the blonde's stable shoulder playfully. "Just a laugh to get your mind off earlier."
"You sure?" Leon asked, sudden changing his posture to straighten, cocking his head. Something odd struck within his voice that had been missing a mere sentence before.
"Why? You just asked if-."
"To make sure not to make a fool of myself, Mr. Redfield," Leon said, gracing Chris with a smile.
"You crazy son of a bitch… You're actually gonna…," Chris began to say, but Leon was already crouching before him, trailing his gloved hands down his chest and onto his belt. Three flicks of his wrists and it was undone, followed by the button and long zipper of his BSAA cargos. Leon pushed the pants down slightly in the front, far enough to efficiently tug out Chris' entire package. Groaning against its size, Leon pressed his lips to the tip, feeling it harden under his touch even through his gloves. "Leon…," Chris huffed, watching with unbelieving eyes.
Leon grinned, blinking away from Chris' gaze. He slipped the rising head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks ever so slightly. Pulling off just a moment after pushing on, Leon licked at the underside of the thick shaft in one long stroke, breathing against the pulsing vein that had just begun its work. Pants of curses and the blonde's name escaped the man leaning against the bedside heavily as Leon bobbed his lips farther and farther down the length each time. On the fifth or sixth round, Chris felt the tip brush the back of Kennedy's throat, earning a cry of curses as his cock jumped to full erection. The ache came crashing through his groin, building strong with each bob down Leon's throat.
A hand gripped suddenly at his right hip, followed by the soft brush of two naked and two glove-clad fingers against his balls. Unwillingly, he bucked against the touch, sputtering an apology to the man below as he gripped the railing of the upper bunk bed with white knuckles.
"Leon… shit…," he groaned. "You've done this before…"
"Ugh ugh," Leon responded, pulling off to wipe his mouth. "Never."
"Then how do you do it so well?" Chris asked, lolling his head onto his own shoulder and looking down at Leon with half lidded eyes.
"I take everything I've ever thought would feel good to me and I'm doing it to you," Leon giggled, attaching his mouth to the side of Chris' dick and sucking around it.
"Oh," Chris mouthed, closing his eyes as he felt Leon's perfect pink lips slide gently back over his length. He became suddenly aware of how low the ache was becoming, knowing he wouldn't be long off. As he lolled his head back up and opened his eyes, he was met with the pleading sex blues of Leon S Kennedy. With a gasp he dared not let anyone but himself hear, he squeezed his eyes shut tight once more and whipped his head back, releasing a call of something vaguely sounding like Leon's name as he came down the awaiting man's throat.
Chuckling as he swallowed, Kennedy wiped his mouth and used Chris' shirt to pull himself back onto his feet. He leaned into the chest of the spent man, clutching tight as he felt arms wrap around him.
"Even?," Leon asked.
"Well past it, Kennedy."