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Close Calls

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Leon wanted to be angry with the Tyrant, but couldn’t quite bring himself to ruin the heat of the moment. Not with the way it was pressing him securely against the wall with its rigid body, tearing the remnants of his vest from him. He quickly grabbed onto one of its hands and tried to lean away from it, tried to put some space between them, when it took the hem of his shirt next.

“Honestly, that’s really not necessary. I swear.” Leon offered, gently pushing at its hand to emphasize how he didn’t want it to destroy his clothes. It growled at him, its grip tightening on the fabric. Heart pounding in his chest, Leon squirmed and continued to push at it, despite its displeased, almost aggressive chain of noises. Once again, it didn’t listen to him–Leon was getting very tired of that–and prepared to carry on as it wished. At the first tell tale tug, Leon unwrapped his arm that had previously been hooked around the Tyrant’s neck and grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands. Before the Tyrant could even think to tear it open, he yanked it over his head himself and let it go. 

The Tyrant’s hand, which had never left the article of clothing in the first place, held the shirt even after Leon released it. With slow, unsure movements, it brought the navy material to its face and curiously inhaled. Deep, reveling. Its eyelids flickered. Leon flushed hot. “You creep.” The rookie said through a surprised, timid whisper. He wrapped his arms around himself in defense from the chilly air, all the while watching the Tyrant take in his scent. “First you watch me jack off, now you’re– Jesus .”

He interrupted himself when the Tyrant took what Leon could only describe as the deepest breath he’d ever heard. The inhale itself must have taken twice as long as any human would’ve. Considering how he’d never even heard the beast breathe normally, he was caught off guard. And then, a moment later, even more so when it released a low, gravelly groan. Leon was shocked as he tried to process just how human it had sounded there. The unmistakable arousal in its voice, the fluttering of its eyes, the way it sank against him, clutching at his hip with its free hand.

Leon bit his lip, stared up at it with furrowed brows. “Having fun there?” He muttered. He slowly reached out to grab onto his shirt, then hesitantly pulled on it. The Tyrant’s eyes were on him immediately. It refused to let go. When Leon tugged at it again, its nostrils flared. The officer snorted then, unable to hold back any of his amusement. Only then did the Tyrant bring the piece of apparel away from its face; it seemed to know what laughter was, but was thoroughly concerned as to why Leon found this even the slightest bit humorous.

Leon brought a shaking hand up to stroke the side of its face, brushed his thumb under a sunken eye. Gradually, it let Leon’s shirt fall to the floor. They stared into each others’ eyes. The tension between the two had eased away into a heated, hazy anticipation. What they had now was soft, maybe even sweet. Or at least, that’s what Leon thought. As he looked into the Tyrant’s eyes, he saw many, many conflicting things. He saw want, frustration, and disappointment, and that was only to name a few. Thoughts flickering back to the letter, Leon frowned a bit. 

It is capable of deciphering basic human speech and body language .

 That didn’t mean it could fully comprehend it. Hell, Leon doubted it understood what it itself was even feeling . What this connection, their actions, meant.

But it did understand what it wanted.

The Tyrant suddenly moved in once more before Leon could lose himself in his thoughts, brushed their noses together, and dragged its tongue across Leon’s bottom lip. The man’s reaction was instantaneous, lips separating to allow the inquisitive giant access to his mouth for the second time. Within seconds they were immersed in each other again, completely oblivious to the world around them. Like teenagers. As the ambient noise all began to blur together, Leon noticed that the Tyrant was becoming progressively bolder and more frequent with its vocalizations, which had previously been few and far between.

Experimentally, he mustered a guttural moan. The Tyrant, though more focused on swallowing the sound, repeated it with its own thundery tone. A ha . Leon couldn’t help but grin at that. While they settled back into their prior pace, Leon’s hands fell into their previous position. They rested on each side of the giant’s face as they clashed tongues languidly. The Tyrant held him in place by gripping him just below his arm with one hand, and firmly placing the other against his bare chest.

Seconds turned to minutes, proving that the Tyrant either had a much superior lung capacity, or no need for oxygen at all. Leon could not relate. Their lips separated with a fierce smack when his lungs began to scream for air, forcing him away. As he caught his breath, he stroked the Tyrant’s face and took the time to memorize the feel of its facial details in the nearly completely blacked out hall. The moonlight was steadily filtering in through the window behind them, though, and it caught on the edges of its features. By now, he was slightly used to its skin’s bizarre texture, the grooves and dips and gauges all over. What the officer hadn’t noticed, however, was that the Tyrant had surprisingly large eyes, especially in comparison to its irides and pupils, which were dwarfed. Leon didn’t quite want to describe its eyes as ‘beady’, but they were damn near close. And now that he thought about it, almost comically so. Amidst his inspection their eyes met for a mere second and Leon shuddered vehemently under the intensity of its stare. God, he’d never get used to it.

He sharply looked away from it, but noticed the way it continued to stare right into him, as if it saw something no human could. Again, it made Leon wonder if there indeed was something mechanical to it and its behaviors. Like some sort of blip or marker had the officer standing out against everything else. It would certainly make sense, considering how easily the beast had been able to find him over the course of the night.

Having caught his breath by now, Leon tentatively smoothed his fingers up and back, inspecting the areas that otherwise would have been hidden by its hat. When his left index finger tapped something that distinctly wasn’t fleshy, the both of them stilled.

This was understandable for Leon, fearing he made a grave mistake. However the Tyrant also seemed to be completely frozen. Disconnected, deactivated even. In some sort of stasis. “What the–” Squinting, he took advantage of the situation and turned the momentarily inoperative Tyrant’s head just to the side. He also shifted himself so that the moonlight could flood past him and illuminate its face. After a few seconds of adjustment to the light, Leon definitely saw it. A small, black, cylindrical piece of metal that was just barely buried into the side of its temple. He wrinkled his nose with distaste when he recalled another phrase from the letter.

It does not act on its own free will and its orders are directly input by authorized Umbrella staff.

Input. Like it was some sort of device . “This your power button?” He touched it again, carefully avoiding the place where the metal met with the Tyrant’s skin. It wasn’t as if Leon expected a response in the first place, but actually not getting one didn’t settle well with him. On the side of the tiny gadget sat another Umbrella logo, small but visible against the black metal. If it hadn’t made itself sure before, it was obvious that the Tyrant had come from Umbrella now. He began to wonder. Why ? How ? When the giant still showed no signs of movement, Leon sighed, “Factory reset, more like. Fuck .”

Leon eyed it for a few more moments, slowly becoming irritated with what he suspected its purpose was. He moved to grip the sleek piece of metal between his index and thumb, but was taken aback when the Tyrant simultaneously lurched away from him and grabbed his forearm with bone-shattering force. A clear warning made itself known through the animalistic growl that reverberated in the small space between them, amplified by their close proximity. A deep line drawn in the sand.

DO NOT TOUCH IT.

Leon’s eyes snapped up to meet the Tyrant’s. Its mouth was clamped shut as tightly as it always was. Brows drawn together tightly, Leon tried to discern whether or not that had been his thoughts echoing the message within his own head, or if the Tyrant had really spoken to him, yelled at him. The letter had never stated if the Tyrant was capable of speech itself, but the suspicious sender had also admitted that there was information not included in the text that they simply couldn’t share. Surely, if the Tyrant understood basic speech, and could make human-like noises itself, it could speak as well? Or at least learn?

Leon didn’t like it. That hunk of metal in its head. He considered the idea of distracting the behemoth and ripping it out. Problem was, if he failed, he’d be crushed before he had time to even begin to apologize for his actions. And if he succeeded, it would no longer trust him, or possibly die. Leon genuinely had no idea if that thing was connected to its brain, but he knew it was controlling it somehow. Even if it no longer had full control over the Tyrant, he was sure it was keeping it from living like it could’ve been. Just had to be. Leon let out a quiet huff and allowed his gaze to fall from the Tyrant’s face. Eyebrows raising, Leon thought of something. The bolt cutters. He hadn’t used them in a long time–was fairly certain he’d never use them again–but held onto them out of reluctance to discard such a tool. He remembered that, when he took the time to reorganize earlier, they were shoved deep into the pouch located on his right hip. 

He slowly reached down with the hand that hadn’t been snatched by the creature to sift through his pouches and find the tool, only to have his head yanked up and wrenched back when the Tyrant’s other hand twisted deep into his hair. “Okay.” Leon said breathlessly, limply putting up his hands in a submissive position, as if held at gunpoint. Obviously it didn’t want him to do that , regardless of whether or not it knew exactly what he was going to try and do.

The giant, knowing Leon’s gesture to be a meek one, calmly let go of his arm and released his hair to instead take his lower jaw into its hand. Heart crashing against his ribcage, Leon was a willing participant when the Tyrant tilted his head back to expose his throat. He grinned nervously, shivering just a bit, as he felt it shift, lean in close, and press its lips against his Adam’s apple. He hummed low in his throat. Then, the Tyrant licked a stripe from his clavicle to the underside of his chin and he just about jumped out of his skin. So apparently he hadn’t ruined the mood with his curiosity.

Letting out a sultry mixture of a hiss and a sigh, Leon allowed his eyes to flutter closed and his body to relax. He gripped onto the overwhelming darkness that was the Tyrant’s coat and relished the way it licked, bit, and suckled at his throat. He could tell, by way his skin was rippled with goosebumps, that its eyes were still open. That it was taking in just as much through its eyes as it was with its mouth.

While this was nice, admittedly it was getting stale for Leon. Though he supposed he couldn’t have expected the Tyrant to take it much further than this. He doubted it fully realized what they were doing in the first place. Anything more was up to him.

Leon grunted, wiggled under the Tyrant's mass to indicate his restlessness. "Is this really all you want to do?" He wondered aloud; his voice came out rougher than he’d intended, heavier with need that simply wasn’t there a moment or so ago. Its answer was, unsurprising and disappointingly, silence. He huffed, held back an aggravated eye roll, and tried to find satisfaction. It didn’t come–at this rate, he didn’t think he would, either. But then–

Then there was a hand–unmistakably, it was a gigantic, gloved hand–palming him through his pants. He choked in surprise, felt his breath leave him. “Wait, what?” Leon jolted under the Tyrant’s touch, suddenly aware of his own blood roaring through his ears, rushing south in a panicked frenzy that the sensation of being touched by someone else. “Wait, can you understand me? I need to know.” It didn’t say anything of course, and that’s when Leon grabbed onto its face and pried its head up so they were once again at eye level. 

“Blink once. If you. Can understand me.” The officer said hurriedly, voice clear. His hips rolled against his will, pressing against the savior that was the Tyrant’s palm. Leon nearly slumped against the window, awaiting any sort of response. He almost missed it, but the Tyrant blinked. “Okay.” He said, entire body alight with renewed excitement. Holy shit, holy shit .

“Okay,” He repeated, slowly releasing the giant’s face and gripping its coat again instead. “How about–do you know what we’re doing? Blink once, I mean, if you do.” He watched its face for any change of expression, any blink or twitch of an eye, but nothing changed. Leon’s heart sank. He wasn’t quite sure he'd be able to do this, if the Tyrant wasn’t aware of what was happening. Violent, hulking goliath it was, it just didn’t feel alright to take advantage of it like this–that didn’t necessarily apply when reversing the roles, however. Leon still had lingering thoughts of a darker way this whole affair could have turned out for him.

Slowly, as if it had taken some time to analyze his words, the Tyrant blinked again. It blinked twice. It understood. It understood very clearly. Its hand pushed at Leon’s belt, fumbled with the front of his trousers. Fearing that they’d meet the same fate of his vest, Leon was quick to undo the restrictions keeping this from moving faster. Despite his own being cast down into the dark oblivion between them as he hurriedly freed himself, Leon could feel the Tyrant’s eyes burning into him again.

Every single part of him burned desperately. He was sure things hadn’t been so fervent before, but here they were. Here he was, with the front of his pants open, his belt laying on the floor along with his torn vest and forgotten shirt. Here he was, his shaft in his hand for the second time that night, hips twitching every single time the beast in front of him even moved. “Here.” His voice was sharp, commanding. The Tyrant’s obedience was instant; it followed him this time, without a second thought. It covered Leon’s hand with its own, pure inexperience evident in the awkward way it gripped the human’s cock.

“Move it–your hand–like this.” He couldn’t believe he was coaching a giant monster with a pen sticking out of its head on how to jerk him off properly.  He couldn’t believe that it was picking up how he liked to be stroked, worked slowly but steadfast, like a second nature. Soon enough, Leon withdrew his hand and opted to fully cling to the behemoth, shuddering against its form. He was getting off on this. The lewd thought had his heart skipping a few beats and landing with a heavy thud in his stomach. He groaned, tilted his head back, and mouthed his way along the Tyrant’s jawline. 

“Kiss me.” He hissed, shamelessly lapping at the side of its mouth. It turned on him immediately, crashed their lips together so forcefully that Leon’s head slammed against the window and threatened to break it. The glass rattled and the frame creaked, but the salacious sounds–the mixture of keens, thunderous growls, slick smacking of thrashing tongues, and distinct clatter of teeth against each other–drowned out any other possible noise in the immediate vicinity. Leon tried not to think about how absolutely disgusting the two of them had to look at the moment, as the very idea had him sitting on the edge of an orgasm.

The Tyrant quickened its pace, gripped him tighter–fuck, he hadn’t told it to do that. He tapped its shoulder urgently, managing a smothered “don’t” between furious collisions of their mouths. The Tyrant only responded by taking the man’s throat in its free hand and pressing until Leon’s prior noises were replaced with startled chokes and spluttering. He could barely breathe, and he didn’t want it any other way.

It seemed what Leon really needed was that hand choking him out again, as he failed to last more than another twenty seconds. He screamed in his own muffled, gagging way, eyes shut tight, face plastered with an expression that conveyed his climax as agonizing. The intensity of it had his shoulders tensing, back arching painfully, hands scrambling for a better purchase on the Tyrant. His breath caught in his throat, lodged directly under its massive hand. He twisted his face away from the beast’s and wailed a scratchy, high-pitched “fuck!” as he sank against the wall. He shook with the aftershock of such an intense experience. The only reason he was still standing was their grip on each other.

Leon needed time to recover from that. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if he never did. He needed time to recollect, to face the Tyrant again. But he wasn’t given that time. With ferocity, it slung him over its shoulder and sharply turned away from the window, marching down the hall. “No, I need my shit.” The officer complained weakly, unable to even attempt to defend himself in any way. His body was heavy, his mind was completely blank. He was only capable of breathing and blinking at the moment. He groaned to himself and let his mind run wild, trying to prepare for whatever was to come.