Chapter Text
Leon was in over his fucking head. No amount of training, of breaking himself to pieces over and over again until he was a walking weapon, could prepare him for— whatever the fuck was happening here. And, strangely enough, he wasn't even fazed by it. What was one more shitshow in his life? One more eternity of fighting for his life against creatures that were no longer human?
What puzzled him was the so-called Merchant.
He was useful– unbelievably so– and despite the harsh grate of his English accent, he was overall friendly. He was a character, for sure, wrapped up in layers upon layers, so many items hidden in his robes that Leon couldn't be sure that there was enough room for a person in there. But Leon was desperate— exhausted, hungry, and down on his luck. The Merchant knew that, and seemed more than willing to provide, as long as Leon could pay the price.
He couldn't make sense of it. A giant salamander trying to eat him in the middle of a fucking lake? Sure, might as well. A cult obsessed with some gift, with followers that turned into various tentacle monsters upon death? Yeah, if Racoon City had taught him anything it was that the dead never stayed that way. In some convoluted, fucked up way, all of that made sense to Leon. But a stranger who seemed hell-bent on being exactly where Leon needed him, with an arsenal that couldn't be legal under any kind of license, and never said more than necessary to advertise his wares? In the middle of this nowhere village that had clearly gone to shit, it wasn't fucking normal.
Leon finally lost his mind when his curiosity got the better of him. That stupid fucking elevator to stupid fucking target practice. What the fuck? Did he die and end up in Limbo? Was there some deity out to get him that decided that this was the best way to torture him for eternity in the afterlife? The Merchant's heavy accent rambling excitedly over the speakers certainly wasn't helping Leon gather his thoughts.
Leon really had nothing to lose here, did he? He'd worry about wasting ammo if the merchant hadn't guided him over to a fucking cache of it. Fucking target practice. What was he, a rookie? Still, the Merchant seemed enthused, and if participating could get him a discount on that mine recipe… well. Leon wasn't one to pass up a deal.
The moving targets– childish cardboard cutouts of pirates though they were– startled him when the first opponent popped up with incredible speed. How the Merchant got his hands on this kind of equipment, Leon would forever be left guessing. He was a professional, though, and so with the precision that had been drilled into him by his superiors– namely Krauser – he eliminated as many as he could. It was strange, shooting at something so lifeless and predictable. They were fast, too, and reflexes had him accidentally shooting an ally on more than one occasion. More than that, however, it was… fun. He did feel a bit like a rookie, baby-faced and so naive to the horrors that the world had to offer. It was a welcome reprieve.
He could do without the constant commentary from the Merchant, though.
That rough accent was doing something to him, and the giddy exclamations and suave praises weren't helping matters. Still, Leon was a professional and knew how to keep his dick in his pants. Plus, he had to admit, it was pleasant to be appreciated rather than beaten down for nearly imperceptible failures. To be rewarded for improving, instead of scolded that he could still be better. (The charms were cute too, okay? Impractical, maybe, but sue him. His day was miserable enough.)
Leon wasn't sure how much time he spent down there, constantly trying to one-up himself on each challenge, The Merchant applauding his progress for each attempt. It was a comforting lull to lose himself in. So much so that, when he received that final golden token for a job well done, he was almost… disappointed.
"Well done, Strangah," The Merchant's hacking laugh rang out, devoid of the crackling of static from the speaker system. Leon whipped around to find the Merchant's hulking frame leaning against the doorway to the range. He still donned his heavy robes, but lacked the pack he usually carried. Leon could not see much of his face, but the crinkle of his eyes seemed decidedly smug.
"Uh," Leon stuttered ever so eloquently. "...Thanks."
The Merchant moved quickly, faster than Leon could fathom, and soon he was towering over him. Leon was crowded against the desk, the bell digging uncomfortably into the small of his back. The man smelt strongly of colored herbs, their sharp antiseptic scent almost overwhelming in such close proximity.
The Merchant grinned as Leon swallowed thickly, the expression visible by the crow's feet lining his eyes. "Ah would 'ate fer ye tah no' receive propah compensation fer all yer 'ard work." The gloves the man wore were rough on Leon's skin as he grabbed his chin, tilting his head back until Leon's throat was bared.
Leon wasn't dumb. He knew what The Merchant was implying– could tell from the way his bulky frame boxed him in alone. But, he'd be lying if he said that it didn't sound nice. Especially if it meant that he could continue to hear that low rumble so close. Leaving this silly pirate-themed bunker meant returning to the things that called themselves people outside, too. He wasn't exactly keen on that, Ashley or not.
"What?" Leon snarked, unable to help himself. "A discount not good enough?" Those fingers just squeezed harder at the comment, squishing the fat of his cheeks.
"Ah figured ye'd appreciate 'is more 'an a discount."
The Merchant's presence was firm, demanding, yet he had not done anything more than crowd him against the desk. Leon had not given any verbal consent– though truthfully the fact that he was still willingly in this position spoke volumes– and so the mysterious Merchant had not advanced.
"Should we put that to the test, then?"
The Merchant merely laughed. There was a glint in his eyes that Leon couldn't decipher, but he figured if the man was going to kill him, he'd have done it already.
The Merchant's hands were on his thighs in a flash, gripping the soft fat and hard muscle underneath to lug him onto the desk. The position left him eye-level with the bastard, and he seemed far too pleased with himself at having lifted Leon so effortlessly. His legs were spread wide to accommodate the hulking figure between them, and now he felt far more vulnerable about that fact– this was far more intimate.
How long had it been since he'd felt another's hands on him for the sole purpose of pleasure? How long had it been since the man laying him seemed focused on Leon and wasn't just using him to have something wet to stick their dick in? He'll admit that he was rather looking forward to cumming from something other than his own fingers or the handle of his hairbrush. That was, if the Merchant was as good as he was seemingly claiming to be.
Out of all the things that Leon was expecting, he wasn't anticipating the Merchant to drop to his knees afterward. His hands were already working at the various straps hooked around Leon's legs keeping his gear attached, and he was helpless to do anything but watch, mesmerized. He did, however, lift his hips when prompted so that the Merchant could tug his jeans and soaking-wet boxers down and over the boots he didn't bother removing.
"Ye seem more excited 'an ye let awn, Strangah," the Merchant chuckled lowly, mouth so close to the glistening skin of his achingly empty cunt. "Pre'y li'le thin' ye are."
Leon didn't have a chance to react to the words before the man was diving in, purple mask lifted just enough so that his mouth could have unfettered access to Leon. Embarrassingly, he whined at the sudden onslaught of a long, rough tongue teasing his folds and lapping up the grool that had been steadily leaking from him as he played through the range's various challenges. His legs snapped closed, squeezing the Merchant's head tighter– closer. The man didn't seem to mind, gloved hands coming up to grip his thighs and draw them in further. He curled forward with a sob at a harsh suck on his throbbing clit. He had been so worked up beforehand that he was already mortifyingly close. It had been so long since he had felt so good. It was heady– overwhelming.
It was the Merchant's tongue finally dipping into him that sent him over the edge.
He came with a broken sob, hands clutching at his hood, and hips twitching relentlessly in an effort to prolong the blissful shocks of release. The Merchant pulled away once he had stilled. His mask had fallen back into place, no longer held up by Leon's abdomen, but his eyes were still dark with unmistakable hunger.
"I's been a long time since someone's taken care o' ye. Huh, Strangah?" Instead of the mock he had expected, the man's words came out awfully smug, as if he knew Leon was just aching for it. He was, but he didn't exactly advertise that fact. He supposed how quickly he came did that well enough for him, though.
"That's not—" Leon's weak protest was interrupted by a calloused finger dragging through the slick still steadily leaking from him. He whimpered, much to his chagrin.
"Aye? So yer jus' naturally sensitive 'en?"
"I'm not— " a cruel thumb circled harshly over his still-throbbing clit, as if to prove a point. He sobbed out a moan, hips twitching toward the stimulation incriminatingly. "Tha's not fair ."
The Merchant just hummed dismissively. He seemed focused on something— not that Leon could ascertain what it was. The man did not meet his gaze, a questioning tilt to his obscured head. If possible, it made Leon feel exposed, more so than being half naked and dripping with arousal did.
"Ah think ye've go' ah few mo' in ye, don't ye, Strangah?"
Leon hardly had time to process the question, let alone respond, before that wicked tongue was on him again. It spared no effort teasing him, this time around and dipped straight into his cunt. He was helpless to stop the high-pitched mewl that left his throat at the feeling of that rough muscle pressing against his walls as if trying to suck him dry. He could do nothing more than curl around the Merchant's head, hips twitching in a vain attempt to create more of that heavenly sensation.
He was taken by surprise when the man lifted him by the grip he had on his quaking thighs, knocking Leon flat on his back. The breathless wheeze that was forced from his chest only encouraged the Merchant. He doubled down on his efforts, holding Leon's hips up effortlessly as he worked. He was truly powerless now, hands scrambling to find a purchase that didn't exist. He could only sob, moans being punched from his throat at every expert flick of that tongue, every suckle, every gentle press of teeth around his clit.
This was more than he had experienced in— ever. Leon can't recall the last time someone had put their mouth to him, had seemed so focused on drawing every molecule of pleasure from him. It was downright intoxicating. Despite the burning warmth gathering behind his navel, he never wanted it to stop. He wanted to see how many times he could cum, honestly. He'd never had the heart to draw more than one from himself, and lord knows he was lucky if he got to cum at all during shitty one night stands. Was The Merchant impotent? He'd never had a man not be desperate to stick their dick in him and then fuck off.
He came again like that– arms thrown over his face, thighs trembling, moans and mewls uninhibited. He could feel the way his insides quivered and contracted around the tongue still in him, milking it for every last drop of stimuli like it was a cock fucking him open. When his hips were let down to hang off of the edge of the desk, all he could do was whine.
"No please," he babbled mindlessly. "'S so good…"
The Merchant chuckled sharply, rising to his full height above Leon. His legs found their way around the man's hips automatically, tugging him flush against himself in search of anything the man could offer. Leon hadn't known that he could ever feel this good.
"Greedy thin', aren't ye?" The Merchant hummed. "No ma'er. Ah thin' we both know wha' ye want." He ground his hips forward against Leon's, and the sensation of well-worn fabric against his aching cunt had him whimpering. He could not feel the man's hard cock through the numerous layers, but he knew that it was there. Knew what he was implying with the motion. He wondered how big he'd be. Would he fill him to the brim, kiss his cervix with every thrust, and breed him like a proper bitch? Or would he fill him just on the surface, rutting like a dog towards such a simple pleasure, pelvis grinding against his clit all the while, until he was leaking the man's release? He couldn't wait to find out.
"'S all yours," Leon slurred, panting both in anticipation and exertion. He delighted in the large hands encircling his waist like he was a doll. Maybe he was sex-drunk, but it was nice to be manhandled so softly. Perhaps those words were antonyms, but he couldn't describe it any other way. The Merchant was large and powerful, undoubtedly towering over Leon and unafraid to show that he knew the margins of his own strength. Yet, he had not hurt Leon. His large hands pressed him close, lifted him higher, spread him open like a ragdoll, but not harshly. Demanding, but not forcing. It was a maddening dichotomy in all the best ways.
Leon wasn't sure what he expected the Merchant to do— how he would proceed. Still, it somehow came as a shock that he backed away to carefully shed his heavy robes full of odds and ends. He had, obviously, never seen the man so bare. It was peculiar, being allowed to drink him in like this. He was broad, padded in well-earned muscle from travel and lugging around his gear. It was under a surprisingly healthy layer of fat– considering the less-than-well-off locals– rounding out his edges and adding a pleasant curve to his belly that hung above the lip of his trousers. He was clad in a thin wife-beater that had seen better days, and though that damned purple bandana stayed in place, his hair was surprisingly long and tied back in a dark ponytail. The dark strands vividly contrasted his pale skin, and Leon found himself wanting to run his hands through it.
"Don' look so fascinated," The Merchant rolled his eyes as he slotted himself back between Leon's spread legs. There was no mistaking the sizable bulge against him, now. It was hot and heavy even through the lace-up trousers the man still wore. Leon needed it in him now — hygiene be damned. Lord knows if he was going to make it out of Spain alive. What's one more collection of infection for the road? (And what Hunnigan didn't know wouldn't hurt her.)
"Ye sure 'bout 'is, Strangah?"
It was Leon's turn to roll his eyes now. "Don't call me Stranger when you're about to fuck me. My name is Leon."
The Merchant laughed, dark and deep, and leaned over Leon's exposed body. His thick forearms rested beside his shoulders and suddenly those burning eyes were mere millimeters from his own. Close enough that Leon could feel the heat of his breath through the purple, painted fabric. "Ah thin' Ah prefer th' term pet."
Leon hated the heat that it sent shooting down his spine and into his groin. A thick trail of fresh grool stained the front of the man's trousers. He didn't have to wait, mortified, for much longer, however. One of the Merchant's hands disappeared down between their bodies, fingers brushing against him as those laces keeping that throbbing cock from him were undone.
That hot length he had been practically drooling over was thick and heavy as it rested over his public mound. The ruddy, uncut head reached to cover his belly button, and the base was framed in a coarse bush of dark curls. Blissfully, it seemed clean enough, too. There was that unmistakable musk of days-old sweat that even Leon was guilty of carrying at this point, but nothing more. No mysterious crust or sores that he could see. It was relieving, he would admit.
"Christ, you're huge," Leon wheezed. Frankly, he probably should have anticipated it with how the Merchant dwarfed him. Leon knew he wasn't the largest man around, but he wasn't small either.
"Nah," he chuckled sharply, gloved fingers guiding that thick tip to press against his slick folds. "Yer jus' tiny."
Leon mewled as the Merchant pressed in– no more than the head sitting just inside him snugly. He buried his face into the crook of the man's neck, hands scrambling at his shoulders, as he ground his hips forward ever so slightly.
"So big," he sobbed. He was wrapped like a vice around the Merchant as he thrusted slowly and shallowly, pressing in further with every movement. It hurt in the best of ways. That thick cock stretched him to his limits, pressing against all the right spots just by being in him.
And he was only halfway there.
Leon could do nothing but moan as the blunt head finally kissed his cervix, grinding against the sensitive, spongy flesh. The Merchant cooed, snapping his hips forward just to hear Leon cry. "Looks like yer too small, pet ."
A gloved hand was grasping one of his own, then, drawing it down to where their bodies met. His trembling fingers glided along the feverish flesh of the man's cock. There were maybe two, three inches still exposed. He was hitting Leon's cervix and there was still more.
"Fuck," he whined, clenching unbidden around the thick shaft filling him to the brim.
The Merchant just rumbled, amused. "'Spose Ah'll 'ave tah open ye up, 'en."
There was little time for Leon to process what the Merchant meant before his hips were drawing away and slamming back in, rocking him along the surface of the desk. Leon could only scramble for purchase, mind torn blissfully blank at the constant in and out of that thick cock. There was no other sensation he registered other than the slick glide of it and the salacious squelching from the movement. Whatever Leon had expected from Spain, it wasn't this. As fucked up as his time here so far had been, this– this was heaven. Sinful paradise.
He was loose and pliant, two orgasms in already, and The Merchant took full advantage of that. He pistoned into him relentlessly, pushing moans out of Leon with every kiss of his tip to his cervix. In and out, in and out, until finally—
"Fuck!" Leon screamed as suddenly their hips were flush. The Merchant had shoved those last few inches into him, stretching him impossibly further. Leon wasn't sure if he loved it or hated it. It burned. His body wasn't built for this. It was so big, too big, and yet—
"'a's a good pet. 'At wasn't so 'ard, was it?" Pressed chest to chest as they were, Leon felt the words more than he heard them. He was helpless to respond, mouth agape and leaking drool. This was how Leon died. Or had he already? Was this Heaven, Hell? He felt so good.
If the Merchant's pace was relentless before, it was merciless now. Leon could only hold on for the ride and hope he didn't break. Still, that pleasurable burn only fed the inferno in his abdomen, and before he knew it, his third climax crept up on him. He was a moaning, mewling mess as his legs squeezed the Merchant's waist and his abdominal muscles tensed and spasmed. The Merchant's pace never slowed as Leon squirted for the first time in his life, soaking both of them. It was mortifying, in a way, to have such a physical manifestation of how good he felt. But as cock-dumb as he was, it never crossed his mind. Especially not as the man shifted, drawing back only to force Leon's legs away and up near his chest. He was bent in half, folded into a mating press.
Leon shouldn't have found that as hot as he did.
"Fuck," The Merchant panted harshly above him, the rhythm of his thrusting stuttering. "Such a tight snatch. Should be fucking illegal." There was one, two more forceful slaps of the man's pelvis against his own before the Merchant hunched over with a guttural groan. Leon did nothing but wail at the feeling of hot cum coating his insides. The Merchant must have been pent up because it felt like ages before the twitching of his cock stopped and no more spend leaked into Leon. He swore he could feel it in his womb– there was no way it wasn't. He was just so deep. It was a damn good thing Leon couldn't get pregnant.
It was silent for a moment, nothing but the sound of their labored breathing to accompany them. "Worth every penny?"
Leon only squeezed around him in complaint just to hear him hiss his oversensitive displeasure.
Fucking obviously.
It was a shame he had to leave after this.