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Close Calls

Chapter Text

He was tired. His legs burned with agony from the endless walking and occasional full sprints, his head was swimming–lost in a typhoon of new information, creeping fear, and confusion–and he was absurdly, inexplicably aroused. It wasn’t as though he were briskly walking around with even more strained, constricting trousers, no. In fact he wasn’t the slightest bit erect. But his mind was wandering places. Unconsciously, he scanned every single room he entered, analyzing the likeliness of his safety if he needed to relieve himself. Thought about it–along with that other thing –constantly. Because frankly he refused to do such a thing in the main hall, out of pure respect for Marvin. He’d found two rooms so far. One was a dark, secluded room in the West office–he’d failed to get the door open before finding its key somewhere else in his travels–and the other was, well, the dimly lit shower room on the second floor.


Leon sighed heavily, lowering his head as he shuffled his way back into the main hall. He holstered Matilda once he saw Marvin’s shuddering form on the sofa, and slowly approached him. He sat on the chair directly across from the Lieutenant, watching with furrowed eyebrows as he twitched and muttered frantically in his unconscious state.  One particularly undead groan had Leon on his feet again, hand on his gun in less than a heartbeat. “Marvin?” He said, reaching out and tapping one of the man’s legs. No response. The noises continued. Leon’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed Branagh’s shoe and shook it roughly, eliciting a somewhat more human grumble. Leon shook it again, and the wounded officer’s eyes snapped open. “Hey.” Leon greeted warily. Marvin tried to flash him a welcome smile, but his face was quickly overcome with a grimace. Leon’s chest tightened upon looking at him, worrisome. “Feeling alright?” He asked, nodding to Branagh’s nasty wound. The other man simply didn’t answer, only drawing in short, pained breaths through his slightly ajar mouth. Leon took that as a heavy ‘no’ and looked away. 


Leaden footsteps from god-knows-where echoed in the distance. Leon nearly jumped out of his skin. Marvin let out a raspy chuckle riddled with despair. “That thing still on your tail?” He wheezed out. His breaths sounded watery, unstable, as if his lungs were ready to give way. Leon only nodded, then sifted a gloved hand through his dirty, blood-soaked hair. The thing . His heart began to rapidly pulse in his chest, blood rushed through his ears with the likeliness of a train. Leon had been all over the station by now, reading bits and pieces of reports and desperately scribbled notes from fellow officers who were unlucky enough to be around when everything went down. Thankfully, he’d read about the lickers–skinless, sightless, crawling creatures with tongues longer than their own bodies–before encountering them, but the thing ? Unfortunately, he had no access to information on it before it found itself in Leon’s way. Or rather, Leon in its. The memory of the creature– Tyrant , the papers he found later had called it–peeling back the wrecked helicopter from its resting place in the wall with only one arm, cold, hard gaze boring into Leon, flashed through his mind. His skin broke out into savage goosebumps. He tensed his legs and lowered his head, shaking it. He remembered the way it immediately started for him, rushing forwards with a firm, almost robotic gait; its eyes glowed in the dim light like headlights, like a machine . Leon swore he could hear the creak of metal joints and rotating gears as it lurched for him, nearly taking his entire head into its enormous gloved palm. “Jesus Christ!” Leon had exclaimed. 


He remembered turning sharply and forcing his way out of the door he’d just come through, then stopping to see if this creature, unlike the others, was capable of opening them. It was. And only when it did, and had to stoop to clamber through the doorway much too small for its frame, did Leon fully realize the absolute immensity of the beast.


 A spark began deep within Leon’s stomach.  


It stared at him with a blank expression, but Leon could see something he couldn’t quite place in its eyes, glinting treacherously. It eyed him like he was some sort of target, an obstacle it needed to overcome. It eyed him as if he were… prey. It abruptly began to stomp towards him; Leon couldn’t move, his body simply wouldn’t, so he stayed in place. The creature reached him in four seconds, flat. It glowered down at him, and he gawked up at it. Everything was frozen. Icy blue light filtered in through the window and illuminated the giant’s form. Its face was interesting to say the least. He knew he should’ve been repulsed by its wrinkled, somewhat gauged appearance. Its dark, bluish-gray skin tone. Its interesting but intimidating choice of attire of an all black, leather outfit complete with a trench-coat and hat. But he wasn’t.  He couldn’t bring himself to look away from it, yet alone turn tail and run. His mouth was open a bit, a shocked but awed expression on his face. Leon was aware that his throat had tightened, but not out of fear. His face was hot, and his legs trembled slightly. Leon found that he was unable to bring himself to run from this complete behemoth because he didn’t want to. Until a colossal hand made another grab for him and Leon was forced to throw himself backwards, stumbling into a fearful sprint.


Suddenly he was on fire, burning from head to toe.


Presently, Leon’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t aware he’d even closed them, so caught up in his recollection of his encounter with the beast. He looked up, back to Marvin, who he found to be unconscious again. Leon let out a low and heavy sigh, heart pounding painfully in his chest. His body ached, mind cloudy with urgent yearning. Leon swore, clenching his eyes shut before forcing out a shaking, unsteady breath. The blood in his ears thrummed; there was a dull but unrelenting pulsing that rested heavily in his gut, seeping into his groin. Leon was unbelievably excited, memories of the Tyrant near sending him into a rut. He couldn’t help but snicker, astounded and horrified, as he stood from the love-seat. Thoughts quickly flickering between the two rooms, Leon chose the shower room as the better option. There had been less corpses there, and more than likely he could also clean up when he was done. He couldn’t run around like this anymore.


With that, he was off.


Leon made his way upstairs quickly, unable to wait for what was to come. With all that had happened tonight, he knew that this would greatly benefit him,  allowing him to recollect his thoughts and move forward with more ease. He made a note that after he was finished, he’d immediately move on to finding Claire. He wouldn’t be meddling in the affairs of the Tyrant. Swearing this, Leon maneuvered his way around a somewhat intact undead officer that was scraping its forehead against the wall, moaning and scratching along the wooden paneling as if it were trying to enter a room. Leon wanted to laugh at the sight, but had much, much more important issues that required his attention. His entire body shook with nervousness, anxious to address the way that the creature, the Tyrant , made him feel with those terrifying eyes and impossibly large build. 


Leon swiftly crept through the dark hallway, careful not to step on conveniently placed objects that would attract any of the nearby monstrosities that roamed the station. He approached the door, a solid piece of metal with a small, grated window at the top, and silently pushed it open. Once he closed it behind himself, Leon began to search for something that he could temporarily block the door with. He could only manage to find a few pieces of wood, from the a he’d broken open earlier. Leon sighed. There were no heavy, movable objects in the room. Was he really willing to risk his life just to remedy the utter havoc in his pants? He thought for a moment. Several. He glanced at the door, then the dark corner of the room, before his eyes settled on the bench located not too far from the door itself. Absolutely . Leon neared the door and crouched down, heart pounding in his chest, hands shaking with excitement. He tried to jam a few of the small planks between the floor and the bottom of the door, but it was too well sealed. The best he could manage simply wouldn’t be enough to stop a curious intruder, and Leon knew he wouldn’t be too quiet.


He was growing impatient. His body practically buzzed with unreleased tension. Leon shook his head, “Fuck it.” He whispered, frustrated. Standing, he tossed the useless hunks of wood aside and began to unbuckle and remove his belt, along with his hip pouches. His breath hitched when he saw that the front of his pants was indeed strained, bulging. He hadn’t just imagined the tightness from sheer shock from his attraction to that man, that creature . Leon only hoped that he wasn’t running around this hard the entire time it chased him–regardless of its understanding of humans and biology, that was just awkward. Leon would probably never directly look at it again without thinking about what he was about to do in this shower room. Unashamed, he sat his belt down on the long bench that sat in the middle of the room, facing the door. Directly behind it sat a row of lockers, which Leon assumed used to hold officers’ belongings or clothing. Pushing his pants and underwear down just past his thighs, Leon sat down on the bench and leaned against the locker. There was a new determination to his movements; he yanked his restricting clothing down further–silently debating with himself on whether or not it’d be worth his time to undo his vest and remove his shirt–and set to work.


He slid his hands over his bare thighs first, slowly drawing circles into his skin as he continued to shake with anticipation, pure exhilaration. His legs quivered, and Leon quietly thanked himself for choosing to do this sitting down this time. After a moment of teasing himself, he went straight for the goods, wrapping a hand around himself as he tightly gripped the wooden bench below him with his other. He brought his hand up, gently stroking his head with his thumb, before gliding it back down to his base, movements slow and savory. Leon then let out a hiss, beginning a smooth rhythm of strokes. One of his legs began to bounce eagerly, and Leon tilted his head back; his jaw went slack and his mouth fell open, eyes closed. Time ceased to exist. It was all Leon for now. No Tyrant, no lickers, no Marvin, Claire, or even Raccoon City. It was all a stupid nightmare, and after this Leon would wake up in his bed, in the morning, waiting to start his first day as a police officer. The thought put a smile on his lips as he pleasured himself.


Until. Something thudded in the distance. Goosebumps broke out on his skin and the sensation immediately made him think of the Tyrant. Its eyes, cold, but burning with something distinct. Like hunger. Desire . Leon abruptly paused at that, listening for any footsteps outside. He could usually detect it even if it was on the floor above or below him, but right now he could only pick up the forceful beat of his own heart. 






Ba- thunk .


Scared of your own heartbeat? Leon mused, releasing a raspy chortle. He continued, fervently. 




Leon froze. He shut his mouth, frowned. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A cold, heavy shiver threatened to force its way down his back. Something inside of him screamed to open his eyes. That something was watching him. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, eyes still screwed shut. Of course there was, this whole building was overrun with zombies. He'd seen them staring at unlocked doors in the hallway, too stupid to just open them themselves. Leon continued on, pushing aside his anxiety and proceeding with his strokes more firmly, gripping himself tighter to draw his thoughts away from fear. After the shit he'd seen tonight? He deserved this, goddamn it. 


Angered by the fact that he'd let himself almost ruin his fun, Leon set a more aggressive pace. He twisted his hand as he brought it down each time, and slipped his thumb over his head as he brought it back up. He sagged against the locker behind him, a hushed but needy moan escaping his lips. Lips that soon drew into a grimace as he worked himself harder. A hot coil began to tighten in his gut. Leon slowly rocked with his movements, occasionally thrusting into his own hand. He was just starting to lose himself again when that feeling came back, this time stronger. An intense shudder wracked his body, and it wasn’t quite due to pleasure. Leon dismissed it, blaming it on the immense amount of stress he’d picked up throughout the night. He continued persistently, breaths coming out in short, unstable pants. His legs grew taut, shaking but still planted in their place. A specific stroke had him releasing a garbled groan, throwing his head back and slamming it against the locker behind him. Leon didn’t care. He kept going. He increased his speed near twofold, desperate and shivering at the sweet stimulation.


Still, he wouldn’t open his eyes. Wouldn’t ruin the moment by putting an end to his heightened senses. Unless something came limping, crawling, or stomping through that door, he wasn’t stopping. “ God ,” Leon whined, voice drawn tight and high pitched as he shifted closer and closer to the edge. He only took a few more moments before his entire body was tensing up, muscles so strained that they ached, and he lost it. He came with an almost deafening wail, painting both his hand and vest with a few ribbons of his pale seed. Leon followed up with a low hum, enjoying his brief afterglow. His eyes slipped open, blinked blearily, and that’s when he saw it.


The door, behind it, on the other side, was the unmistakable form of the beast, the thing, the Tyrant. Leon’s clear, blue eyes widened in disbelief. It was hunched over, from what he could tell, and peering inside. He felt tears prick at his eyes as he saw those glowing, silver irides rake over him, burning like gelid flames. It stared at him, even as Leon frantically began to pull his trousers back up and grab for his equipment. Even as Leon shakily took Matilda in his hands and aimed for the door, for its eyes that scanned over him so hungrily. Seconds passed by. Two, three four, five. It moved, then, away from the door, and began down the hallway.








The footsteps slowly faded; Leon lowered his weapon, wiping his hand off on his vest as he fought back tears. His eyebrows were so tightly drawn together that his head started to ache. He felt so dirty. Mortified, humiliated, disgusted. Violated . It had been watching him masturbate, and–God, had he been hearing its footsteps earlier? Not his own heartbeat?


He felt sick.