Blood for Wild Blood (Part 3)
Title: Blood for Wild Blood
Fandom: Resident Evil
Pairings: Leon/Luis
Warnings: near death experiences, canon-typical gore and injuries
Word Count: 1774 (3662)
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Luis would be alive.
Summary: The wolf that Leon rescues is far more than it seems.
Part 1
Part 2
Luis opens a door in the castle and smiles widely when he sees Leon standing on the other side. It's been too long since he's talked to the other man, both of them running around the castle trying to survive. But he finally, finally, has good news to report.
“Leon! I got it!”
The Spaniard is still grinning when the wolf screams threat inside his mind. But he's slower like this, his instincts buried deep, and he doesn't have time to move before his back ignites with pain. Something pierces through his skin, a blinding white-hot agony that he can't escape. Luis can only gasp when the force shoves deeper, cutting through flesh and bone before a massive tentacle bursts out of his chest.
Luis is lifted off his feet, the increase in pressure tearing another scream out of his throat even as Leon shouts his name in horror. The Spaniard loses his grip on the plaga sample, the prize he worked so hard to get dropping from numb fingers helplessly. He barely registers someone catching that fragile glass canister before it can shatter on the floor.
What little strength Luis still has is focused on the bottle in his right hand, determined to keep the pills from falling too. His world narrows to the feel of those sharp plastic edges digging into his skin and the burning chasm in his chest. Then he's lifted higher and slammed into the floor, his whole body writhing as the tentacle rips free.
“Now that I have the sample, you serve no purpose,” Saddler says above him; even in mortal agony, Luis would know that smug bastard's voice anywhere.
But the Spaniard is holding onto consciousness by the skin of his teeth, his vision going hazy, and he quickly loses track of that conversation. He's only vaguely aware of Leon and Saddler talking as a cold chill creeps along his body, warmth spilling out with his life blood.
There's just the sound of voices, one angry, one still smug, followed by the whisper of robes on stone and the creak of a door closing. Then between one blink and the next, the agent is there above him, an angel of mercy in his time of need.
“Stay with me,” Leon begs. His expression is worried, open; all his masks have disappeared, stripping away the badass secret agent to reveal a grieving man beneath. Perhaps it's selfish of Luis, but he's glad to see it. He's glad to know the other man cares about him too.
Because meeting Leon in the village again had been everything his wolf had hoped for. The agent had been wary at first, unwilling to trust Luis completely, but fighting alongside him had been a pleasure nonetheless. There was something about Leon that drew the Spaniard helplessly.
At first just the pretty face, if he's being honest. Smoking hot was an understatement; the other man had legs for days and Luis would have been attracted to him no matter what.
But beyond that, the agent had skills like no one he'd ever seen. Leon was lethal with a weapon and without one, a one-man army by himself. The wolf beneath the Spaniard's skin had reveled in the presence of a fellow hunter and the chance for a new pack.
However, what Luis admired most of all was the hints of a bleeding heart beneath that badass facade. This was a man who clearly cared about other people, even when he didn't want to. Someone who would fight to the bone to save everyone he could. The kind of man who might comfort Luis in his times of trouble and deserved the chance to be comforted in turn. A man who might forgive him for all the harm that he had done.
So the Spaniard had teased and flirted, trying every suave line that ever worked for him before. Not that Leon seemed to notice; the agent mostly took his words as jokes or ignored them utterly.
But every once in a while, the other man would blush a little and Luis would think... Maybe. Just maybe...
He has the same feeling now, somewhere beneath the pain. However, the Spaniard doesn't know if he'll survive this; he's never been so badly injured, and he needs Leon to hear the truth now just in case.
“I'm a researcher, hired by Saddler. He found out what I was up to,” Luis rasps, tasting blood with every word.
“Don't talk,” the agent says, more a plea than a command. He looks completely devastated, torn between trying to treat the Spaniard's injury and knowing there's no point. But Luis can't spare the time to comfort him right now. He just grits his teeth and presses his hard-won bottle of pills into Leon's hand.
“Here. It should suppress the growth of the parasite,” he explains in awkward gasps. “The sample... Saddler took it. You have to get it back.”
Luis wants to say more, wants to spill his heart out, but every breath is agony. So he turns his focus inward instead, trying to reach the wolf beneath the pain. The Spaniard has left it late; his strength is failing quickly and it would be so easy to let the darkness just carry him away. But Leon's hand is warm against his shoulder, a grounding weight that reminds him exactly what he's fighting for.
So he pushes deeper, forcing himself to concentrate until even blinding agony turns to background noise. Luis reaches for the wolf and slowly, achingly slowly, his other self reaches back.
The Spaniard screams again when the shift finally starts, a fresh wave of blood spilling from his mouth along with that awful bubbling cry. It's worse than the bear trap, worse than being shot or stabbed, the pain of his impalement multiplied one hundredfold. But his wound is also healing, centimeter by excruciating centimeter, bit by painful bit.
Until eventually the change is finished and the wolf lies on the cold stone floor, panting heavily. He's still injured, he can feel it. But even though one shift wasn't enough to fix him, at least he's not in danger of bleeding out imminently.
“Luis? You're that dog?”
The wolf struggles to raise his head at that awestruck whisper and finds Leon staring down at his new form, the man's eyes shocked and wide.
Luis stretches his neck forward to lick the agent's hand again, the taste of blood, dirt and gunpowder exploding on his tongue. Plus something still purely Leon hidden underneath, something Luis would dearly love to explore properly. But first things first, he owes this man an explanation and for that he needs his other form.
Shifting back from wolf to man hurts almost as much as before. But soon enough he's kneeling on the stone, Luis Sera once more.
“Surprise, amigo,” the Spaniard says, holding out his hands like a magician revealing a new trick.
He's expecting questions, but instead his arms are suddenly full of Leon as the other man practically tackles him back to the floor. The agent holds him tightly, so tight that his wound aches, but he can't bring himself to care. Not when Leon is trembling against him, face buried in his shoulder and heaving breaths against his neck.
“I'm all right, cariño,” Luis tells him, running one gentle hand across the agent's back. “I promise, I'm not going anywhere.”
He keeps whispering reassurances until Leon finally stops shaking, though he mourns the loss when the man finally pulls away. Not too far though, one hand still on the Spaniard's shoulder as though to reassure himself that Luis hasn't disappeared.
“I have so many questions,” Leon murmurs quietly. “None of this makes any sense, but I'm glad that you're alive. I was sure... I was so sure that I'd just lost you.”
“I'm not that easy to kill, mi amor,” Luis promises, tucking a stray hand of hair behind the agent's ear. “And whenever you want, your questions, I'll gladly answer them.”
“Thanks. But first...” the other man pauses. His eyes dart up to meet Luis' gaze and then away as a faint blush crawls across his cheeks. “It's just... You know that I speak Spanish? I mean, I suck at Spanish, but I know some words at least.”
It seems like a non sequitur until Luis replays back his own side of their most recent conversation and the various endearments that he'd murmured while Leon was panicking.
“Ah, lo siento, sorry,” he apologizes, an icy knot of disappointment forming in his gut. Luis starts to pull away, but the agent's grip tightens before he can go far.
“I didn't mean it like that,” Leon tells him. “I- Shit, I'm not good at this, not when it really matters.”
The other man seems to steel himself. He straightens his shoulders and meets the Spaniard's eyes head on, the sheer emotion burning in his gaze stealing Luis' breath away.
“Look, I like you, okay? Our timing sucks and I hate this place, but I like you. And given the way that you've been flirting, I'm pretty sure you like me too.”
“Aha, you did notice. I wasn't sure, cariño,” Luis says with a laugh. He has to laugh because his heart is pouring over with sheer giddy happiness at Leon's honest declaration and the man deserves to hear the same truth in return. “Sí, I like you. Very much, my friend. In fact, I'd dearly love to kiss you, if that's all right?”
Instead of answering, Leon tugs the Spaniard closer and kisses Luis himself. His lips are surprisingly soft, that first kiss sweet but oh, so hungry underneath.
One kiss, then two, then three until Luis is dizzy with it, until he has to taste that gorgeous mouth. Leon's lips part on a groan as he licks his way inside, chasing the flavor of his potential mate until he knows it intimately. The other man gives as good as he gets, strong hands warm on Luis's hips as he bites his bottom lip. Then Leon kisses him again, deep and devouring, tongue sliding across the Spaniard's teasingly.
Luis wants to do this forever, but eventually the ache of his still injured chest and Ashley's distant shouting become too hard to ignore. Leon must feel the same because he draws back slowly, resting his forehead against the Spaniard's with a sigh.
“I still have to rescue Ashley and get us out of here,” Leon says. “But after?”
“After,” Luis promises wholeheartedly.
Part 4
Fandom: Resident Evil
Pairings: Leon/Luis
Warnings: near death experiences, canon-typical gore and injuries
Word Count: 1774 (3662)
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Luis would be alive.
Summary: The wolf that Leon rescues is far more than it seems.
Part 1
Part 2
Luis opens a door in the castle and smiles widely when he sees Leon standing on the other side. It's been too long since he's talked to the other man, both of them running around the castle trying to survive. But he finally, finally, has good news to report.
“Leon! I got it!”
The Spaniard is still grinning when the wolf screams threat inside his mind. But he's slower like this, his instincts buried deep, and he doesn't have time to move before his back ignites with pain. Something pierces through his skin, a blinding white-hot agony that he can't escape. Luis can only gasp when the force shoves deeper, cutting through flesh and bone before a massive tentacle bursts out of his chest.
Luis is lifted off his feet, the increase in pressure tearing another scream out of his throat even as Leon shouts his name in horror. The Spaniard loses his grip on the plaga sample, the prize he worked so hard to get dropping from numb fingers helplessly. He barely registers someone catching that fragile glass canister before it can shatter on the floor.
What little strength Luis still has is focused on the bottle in his right hand, determined to keep the pills from falling too. His world narrows to the feel of those sharp plastic edges digging into his skin and the burning chasm in his chest. Then he's lifted higher and slammed into the floor, his whole body writhing as the tentacle rips free.
“Now that I have the sample, you serve no purpose,” Saddler says above him; even in mortal agony, Luis would know that smug bastard's voice anywhere.
But the Spaniard is holding onto consciousness by the skin of his teeth, his vision going hazy, and he quickly loses track of that conversation. He's only vaguely aware of Leon and Saddler talking as a cold chill creeps along his body, warmth spilling out with his life blood.
There's just the sound of voices, one angry, one still smug, followed by the whisper of robes on stone and the creak of a door closing. Then between one blink and the next, the agent is there above him, an angel of mercy in his time of need.
“Stay with me,” Leon begs. His expression is worried, open; all his masks have disappeared, stripping away the badass secret agent to reveal a grieving man beneath. Perhaps it's selfish of Luis, but he's glad to see it. He's glad to know the other man cares about him too.
Because meeting Leon in the village again had been everything his wolf had hoped for. The agent had been wary at first, unwilling to trust Luis completely, but fighting alongside him had been a pleasure nonetheless. There was something about Leon that drew the Spaniard helplessly.
At first just the pretty face, if he's being honest. Smoking hot was an understatement; the other man had legs for days and Luis would have been attracted to him no matter what.
But beyond that, the agent had skills like no one he'd ever seen. Leon was lethal with a weapon and without one, a one-man army by himself. The wolf beneath the Spaniard's skin had reveled in the presence of a fellow hunter and the chance for a new pack.
However, what Luis admired most of all was the hints of a bleeding heart beneath that badass facade. This was a man who clearly cared about other people, even when he didn't want to. Someone who would fight to the bone to save everyone he could. The kind of man who might comfort Luis in his times of trouble and deserved the chance to be comforted in turn. A man who might forgive him for all the harm that he had done.
So the Spaniard had teased and flirted, trying every suave line that ever worked for him before. Not that Leon seemed to notice; the agent mostly took his words as jokes or ignored them utterly.
But every once in a while, the other man would blush a little and Luis would think... Maybe. Just maybe...
He has the same feeling now, somewhere beneath the pain. However, the Spaniard doesn't know if he'll survive this; he's never been so badly injured, and he needs Leon to hear the truth now just in case.
“I'm a researcher, hired by Saddler. He found out what I was up to,” Luis rasps, tasting blood with every word.
“Don't talk,” the agent says, more a plea than a command. He looks completely devastated, torn between trying to treat the Spaniard's injury and knowing there's no point. But Luis can't spare the time to comfort him right now. He just grits his teeth and presses his hard-won bottle of pills into Leon's hand.
“Here. It should suppress the growth of the parasite,” he explains in awkward gasps. “The sample... Saddler took it. You have to get it back.”
Luis wants to say more, wants to spill his heart out, but every breath is agony. So he turns his focus inward instead, trying to reach the wolf beneath the pain. The Spaniard has left it late; his strength is failing quickly and it would be so easy to let the darkness just carry him away. But Leon's hand is warm against his shoulder, a grounding weight that reminds him exactly what he's fighting for.
So he pushes deeper, forcing himself to concentrate until even blinding agony turns to background noise. Luis reaches for the wolf and slowly, achingly slowly, his other self reaches back.
The Spaniard screams again when the shift finally starts, a fresh wave of blood spilling from his mouth along with that awful bubbling cry. It's worse than the bear trap, worse than being shot or stabbed, the pain of his impalement multiplied one hundredfold. But his wound is also healing, centimeter by excruciating centimeter, bit by painful bit.
Until eventually the change is finished and the wolf lies on the cold stone floor, panting heavily. He's still injured, he can feel it. But even though one shift wasn't enough to fix him, at least he's not in danger of bleeding out imminently.
“Luis? You're that dog?”
The wolf struggles to raise his head at that awestruck whisper and finds Leon staring down at his new form, the man's eyes shocked and wide.
Luis stretches his neck forward to lick the agent's hand again, the taste of blood, dirt and gunpowder exploding on his tongue. Plus something still purely Leon hidden underneath, something Luis would dearly love to explore properly. But first things first, he owes this man an explanation and for that he needs his other form.
Shifting back from wolf to man hurts almost as much as before. But soon enough he's kneeling on the stone, Luis Sera once more.
“Surprise, amigo,” the Spaniard says, holding out his hands like a magician revealing a new trick.
He's expecting questions, but instead his arms are suddenly full of Leon as the other man practically tackles him back to the floor. The agent holds him tightly, so tight that his wound aches, but he can't bring himself to care. Not when Leon is trembling against him, face buried in his shoulder and heaving breaths against his neck.
“I'm all right, cariño,” Luis tells him, running one gentle hand across the agent's back. “I promise, I'm not going anywhere.”
He keeps whispering reassurances until Leon finally stops shaking, though he mourns the loss when the man finally pulls away. Not too far though, one hand still on the Spaniard's shoulder as though to reassure himself that Luis hasn't disappeared.
“I have so many questions,” Leon murmurs quietly. “None of this makes any sense, but I'm glad that you're alive. I was sure... I was so sure that I'd just lost you.”
“I'm not that easy to kill, mi amor,” Luis promises, tucking a stray hand of hair behind the agent's ear. “And whenever you want, your questions, I'll gladly answer them.”
“Thanks. But first...” the other man pauses. His eyes dart up to meet Luis' gaze and then away as a faint blush crawls across his cheeks. “It's just... You know that I speak Spanish? I mean, I suck at Spanish, but I know some words at least.”
It seems like a non sequitur until Luis replays back his own side of their most recent conversation and the various endearments that he'd murmured while Leon was panicking.
“Ah, lo siento, sorry,” he apologizes, an icy knot of disappointment forming in his gut. Luis starts to pull away, but the agent's grip tightens before he can go far.
“I didn't mean it like that,” Leon tells him. “I- Shit, I'm not good at this, not when it really matters.”
The other man seems to steel himself. He straightens his shoulders and meets the Spaniard's eyes head on, the sheer emotion burning in his gaze stealing Luis' breath away.
“Look, I like you, okay? Our timing sucks and I hate this place, but I like you. And given the way that you've been flirting, I'm pretty sure you like me too.”
“Aha, you did notice. I wasn't sure, cariño,” Luis says with a laugh. He has to laugh because his heart is pouring over with sheer giddy happiness at Leon's honest declaration and the man deserves to hear the same truth in return. “Sí, I like you. Very much, my friend. In fact, I'd dearly love to kiss you, if that's all right?”
Instead of answering, Leon tugs the Spaniard closer and kisses Luis himself. His lips are surprisingly soft, that first kiss sweet but oh, so hungry underneath.
One kiss, then two, then three until Luis is dizzy with it, until he has to taste that gorgeous mouth. Leon's lips part on a groan as he licks his way inside, chasing the flavor of his potential mate until he knows it intimately. The other man gives as good as he gets, strong hands warm on Luis's hips as he bites his bottom lip. Then Leon kisses him again, deep and devouring, tongue sliding across the Spaniard's teasingly.
Luis wants to do this forever, but eventually the ache of his still injured chest and Ashley's distant shouting become too hard to ignore. Leon must feel the same because he draws back slowly, resting his forehead against the Spaniard's with a sigh.
“I still have to rescue Ashley and get us out of here,” Leon says. “But after?”
“After,” Luis promises wholeheartedly.
Part 4