Belief is Art

Resident Evil 4. Leon/Luis. NC-17. ~850 words. Futurefic. Mild gory imagery.

Of all the things he needed, chemicals in his system wasn’t one of them.


Leon dunked his head under the tap, mouth open and gasping as water cold as death soaked through his hair and trickled down the back of his neck. He kept his head in the sink until he could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples; the numbing cold far preferable to the creeping headache he’d woken up with.

He snagged a towel off the rack without looking and looped it around his neck. He didn’t bother to glance at his reflection, either. He knew what he looked like. He looked like he needed a week’s worth of sleep.

“Fucking nightmares…” He lifted up the corner of the towel and scrubbed at his dripping face.

“There are drugs you can take to help you sleep.”

“You again.” Leon attempted to ignore the man leaning against his bathroom wall like he’d ignored his reflection. It didn’t work. It never worked.

Luis was studying his fingernails, all of them trimmed short and even. “Me again,” he said, and looked up at Leon through the dark tangle of his hair. “You missed me, didn’t you? Were afraid that maybe this time I was gone for good.”

Leon snorted as he hit the lights and walked out. It was true, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He just slept better whenever the son of a bitch was hanging around his apartment. “You’re worse than an ex-girlfriend.”

“Why, because you never got to fuck me?”

Leon laughed at that and tossed the towel over the back of a chair already laden with discarded clothes.”You think I wanted to?” He lay back down on his bed with a sigh and closed his aching eyes, not caring where it was that Luis chose to park himself.

Except there, he amended, when he felt his mattress shift down beside him. Drugs, right. Of all the things he needed, chemicals in his system wasn’t one of them.

“I know you did,” Luis said. “Or, at least you thought about it.” The bastard was even more damn persistent this time than the last.

“Yeah, well, that ladies man line of yours held water like a sieve,” Leon muttered.

He pictured Luis crawling over him, lean body stretched out atop his own. It was almost nice until he couldn’t stop himself from remembering the sucking sound of a claw ripping through Luis’s back, felt blood and innards spill free, slip warm across his belly.

Jerking awake again, Leon swallowed his frustration. So much for sleeping better when his little shadow was around. He had enough bad memories to fuel a lifetime of nightmares, and there wasn’t anything short of a lobotomy that was going to get rid of them. He should have been used to it by now.

“Still here?” he asked, too fucking tired to open his eyes and look.

“I am.”

Ignoring Luis didn’t seem to make him go away any faster, or stay any longer. Leon shifted onto his side and yawned so hard it felt like his jaw was going to come unhinged. “So why did you help us…me?”

“I wanted to do something good for once. Same old story, right?” Luis said. Leon heard him run a hand through his hair and snort softly. “That, and you saved my life.”

“I’m your regular knight in shining armour.”

Luis chuckled, and Leon twitched when a hand settled onto his leg. It shouldn’t feel so real. “It was the least I could do to return the favour, hmm?”

“And look where it got you,” Leon muttered. Long fingers crept up his leg, shifted to the inside, pushed his thighs apart. Even the sheets whispered. He should stop this, somehow. He should find a way. He bit his lip and pushed his shorts down.

“I tried once,” Luis told him. And there was warm breath on him now, a petal-soft drag of lips along the skin of his dick, teasing it to fullness. “Becoming a cop, I mean.”

There was something about the way he said ‘cop’ that made Leon’s stomach tighten, tingle. Silly thing, to be attracted to the sound of such a simple word on a foreigner’s tongue.

“How do I know you’re not lying about that?” Leon asked. Sometimes he wasn’t sure what to believe.

“I’m dead now, what do I need to lie about?”

Leon didn’t really think that mattered. In most stories, the undead held grudges, were tricksters. They’d bite your balls off as soon as lick them. He felt it then, the scrape of teeth along his sac, and those long fingers rubbed in small circles against the flesh just beneath. He held his breath.

“Besides, I’m not really me, am I?” Luis purred. Hot breath, hotter tongue, swirling and sucking and oh fuck, if there was any chance it was real, Leon could come from this alone. “Unless you believe in ghosts, Kennedy.”

As he closed his fingers over his cock, Leon thought that sometimes he wasn’t sure what he wanted to believe in.



6 thoughts on “Belief is Art

  1. Youni

    Wouah !!! c’était trop bien j’adore !!!
    Lorsque Luis est mort j’étais dégoûtée alors le revoir est un vrai bonheur ^^
    Et puis j’ai trouvée que c’était vachement bien écrit.

  2. Pond Post author

    I really wish there were more out there. It’s a pity that it doesn’t get as much fannish attention as a lot of other games. Glad you liked my little contribution.

  3. PyramidHead

    Wow. This was nice. I liked it.

    You should play Silent Hill or Team Fortress 2, they both have good slash fandom.

    Also, I’m surprised that you haven’t drawn/wrote anything for Public Enemies yet. It was a really good movie.

  4. Sarah

    I really love this fic! Sad that there aren’t many Luis/Leon’s around. Still, this about made my day. :)

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