Chapter Text
Leon has never realized how safe his old cop uniform made him feel until it doesn't any more. And it is his old uniform - cleaned up and mended, he'd tucked it into the back of his closet as a kind of good luck charm, proof of his survival against ridiculous odds. They must have found it and taken it with them when they broke in and took him.
"Looks good on you, Comrade," Krauser purrs as he saunters closer. His boots thud on the empty prison's concrete floor. "Brings out the blue in your eyes."
Leon snarls, shifts. The handcuffs binding him to the cell bars clatter, and he's willing to bet that those are his, too. "You again. Don't you ever stay dead?"
"No. It's one of the benefits of working for Wesker. He likes to hang on to valuable people. Which is what you're doing here, by the way. You've finally made enough of an impact that he's decided to take steps and convince you to change your allegiances."
"So he had you kidnap me, dress me up, and then handcuff me in a cell? I'm listed in the phone book, you know. He could have just called and made a da-ugh!" Sharp crack as Krauser backhands him, and Leon jerks and shakes his head. His ears ring. His face aches. He spits blood and glares at Krauser as the big man smiles and grips Leon's throat.
"You always did have a smart mouth, even back in Basic Training. Got you into so much shit." He rubs his thumb along Leon's jawline. "Which is why I'm here. I told Wesker anyone else'd see red before they managed to talk you into anything. Well. Except maybe that bitch, but there's no way he'd trust something like this to her." He leans in close, and his fingers go tight. His hand is hot, hot on Leon's skin as the air is cut from his lungs, as Leon's mouth falls open, gasping, trying to breath. "No. This is all me. Because I know you. I know what you're like, and how you think, and I've got a score to settle with you about what happened on that island."
His grip eases and Leon gasps. Pants, licks his lips. Grunts in surprise as Krauser crushes their mouths together in a brutal kiss.
God. He still kisses like thunder: low rolling power of jaw and lips and teeth as he forces Leon's head back and slips his tongue in and fucks his mouth. Tightens his fingers again and Leon's gasping into the kiss, helpless, breathless. Twisting his hands in the grip of the cuffs, heedless of how they cut his skin because Krauser bites Leon's lower lip and draws blood and then laps it up, slow. So good. Pulls back.
"Took me out with a fucking knife. You always loved those things so much." Another kiss. Deep and wet. Leon's seeing stars, though from lack of oxygen or Krauser's skills he's not sure. "You remember the extra training we did, Kennedy? After hours or in free days, and we'd mess around with live blades in the equipment shed or the garage. Our dangerous little game. Then that one time you fucked up my face, so I fucked your ass . . . good times. I still remember the noises you made."
"Nnng~!"
"Yeah, kinda like that."
Leon wants to kick him, bust a knee or get him in the crotch, maybe. Serve him right, but the bastard's too close and in between Leon's legs and Leon's going to bruise, all around his throat. A dark circle in the shape of Krauser's fingers. At least the grip is easing again, letting air and life back into Leon's lungs. He pants, and hangs limp from the cuffs and Krauser's hand.
"But what I remember most," Krauser says, dipping his free hand between Leon's legs and unsnapping the uniform's pants, drawing down the zipper. Blunt fingertips slip under the band of Leon's boxers and touch his dick. "Is how you'd get every time we played that game. How hard you'd be when you had a knife at my throat." Teasing slide of Krauser's fingers along the length. "How you'd spread your legs every time I returned the favour." He steps even closer to Leon, grinds their hips together and traps his own hand in Leon's pants. "D'you know you did it again back on that island? Flat on your back and I was about to kill you, and you spread nice and wide and lifted your hips for me . . . "
Third kiss, and Krauser's hand works Leon's dick out even as he rocks their bodies together in almost-sex. Slow roll of their hips; Leon's cuffs rattle on the bars overhead. The cotton of Krauser's camo pants is rough and perfect as it brushes against the head of Leon's dick, the leather of Krauser's half-gloves is warm in a way that's just slightly off from skin, sweet texture and feel as he pets Leon to half-hardness. Together, they move like those two-three years of absence and fake death have never happened, like they're still fucking every few days, every chance they get. Like they're partners again and Leon's missed this. Hates to admit it, but he's missed the sex, missed the need, missed the fucked up games they'd play and missed Krauser. Face like a bulldog, but the guy'd always treated him right, always had Leon's back, always known-
Krauser lets go of Leon's cock. Reaches behind himself and draws his knife.
-exactly what Leon wanted. And was always willing to give.
The knife glints dull pewter in the half-light of the cell. Leon can't take his eyes off it.
"I did a little checking around," Krauser says as he pulls back a bit. "Talked with our old classmates and your co-workers. I know you're still chasing after something 'normal'. Trying to get a woman to fuck, someone to pretend to be ordinary with. I know you're still shit at it." He twirls the knife once, a flowing, smooth motion that makes silver arcs in the air. Stops it point down. "And I know you'll always be shit at it. Umbrella's changed you the same way it has me. Touched you, tainted you. You wont fit in anymore, Leon. Not when you're like this."
The touch of the knife is a cool sliver of barely-there sensation on Leon's cock as the back of the blade slides along his length. His eyes flutter shut and he gasps past Krauser's grip, feels his face burn with blush and his cock go from half-hard to full, aching attention.
"There's only one place you belong with needs like these, Comrade, and we both know it, so why don't we cut to the chase? Partner up with me again and work for Wesker. I'll watch your back, get you off . . . take good care of you, just like back at the Academy."
It's tempting in all kinds of ways it shouldn't be, especially with the knife hovering close and Krauser's fingers wrapped around his throat, but-
". . . work for the psychotic, mutant freak masquerading as a human who helped turn Raccoon City into a zombie infested nightmare?" Leon manages. "You're kidding, right?"
"Heh."
The knife flashes one last time and disappears, sheathed. Leon tells himself he's not disappointed.
"I figured you'd say something like that. That's why I had you taken here." Krauser kneels and casually blocks the knee Leon tries to smash into his head. Grabs one of Leon's boots and yanks at the laces, then uppercuts Leon in the gut when he tries to step on Krauser's hands, his feet, tries kick him in the face. He pulls the laces out as Leon wheezes for air. "This place isn't actually deserted. It's a jail attached to one of the Umbrella facilities. I just had them move all the prisoners out for our little talk." He stands and his hands are busy between Leon's legs, working around Leon's hard cock, his balls, wrapping the boot lace tight, tight around them in a make-shift cock ring. "You know the type: career criminals and death row inmates nobody would miss that Umbrella takes in for testing or possible recruitment. Bunch of lowlife scum, really. I wonder how they'll feel when they get let back in here and find a pretty cop with his dick hanging out's been strung up in their cell block?"
Understanding hits like cold water; Leon gapes, feels the blood rush to his face again but it's humiliation this time instead of lust and this is low. Fucked up, sadistic. "You asshole. You're seriously gonna leave me like this for them to gawk at?!"
Krauser just chuckles. He thumbs the precome off of Leon's cock and smears it over the sliver-streak scar on Leon's cheek. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while, Comrade. Try to get along with your new neighbours until then."
He dodges out from between Leon's legs, then, and leaves the cell. The door clangs shut behind him, locking Leon in, loud over Krauser's echoing footsteps and rumbling laughter as the fucking bastard struts away.
"Krauser! Krauser, don't you dare-!" Leon yanks at his cuffs and thrashes, frantic, but it's useless and Leon's alone in the jail, hanging limp and aching, staring down at his own swollen dick. ". . . shit."
He hears them coming. The sound of their footsteps, the mutter of dozens of voices. Every other cell door springs open to welcome them back: Umbrella's pick of criminals.
Leon closes his eyes and forces calm. He's cuffed with his back to the hall. If he's lucky, maybe they'll focus on the uniform and not on the throbbing erection between his legs.
Right.
Maybe.