I Know a Good Bar (Chapter 3)
Title: I Know a Good Bar
Fandom: Resident Evil
Pairings: Leon/Mike
Warnings: near death experiences
Word Count: 2183 (7146 total)
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Mike would be alive.
Summary: Mike and Leon finally get to have that drink.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Mike leads Leon through the streets of Washington DC, the other man seemingly content to follow quietly. The pilot's usual haunt is only a few blocks away; the location is one of the reasons that he likes the place so much.
'Old Robin's Tavern,' the sign reads, greeting him like an old friend as he pushes the door open.
The place is practically deserted this early on a Tuesday, but that's probably for the best given the way that Leon keeps glancing around warily. The man is still keyed up, likely will be for awhile, and Mike hopes he doesn't have to talk him down. Thankfully the agent relaxes slightly once they find a table and he can put his back against the wall.
“Whiskey, neat,” he orders from the server and the pilot gets himself a pint of what's on tap.
Mike gives Leon a few minutes to get settled before starting up another conversation, no more serious than the one back on the beach. This is meant to be relaxing, not stress or therapy. The agent is still quiet, but he seems glad for the company and he loosens up even further once he finishes his drink.
“Seriously, man, I owe you one,” Leon says, leaning his elbow on the table. “I thought I was screwed 'til you showed up.”
“Just doing my job,” the pilot tells him. “Though I wouldn't say no to another drink if you're feeling generous.”
“Sure thing,” the agent chuckles. He signals to the waiter, ordering another round for both of them before turning back to Mike again. “It may have been your job, but I'm still grateful. I don't usually get backup, let alone air support, and you arrived at the perfect time.”
“Happy to help. Though I still can't believe I got shot down,” Mike grumbles before raising his new glass. “To my poor Huey, you were a good bird.”
“To your helicopter,” Leon agrees. He clinks their glasses together and then downs his drink in one. “You know, given that terrible loss, I'm not sure a couple of drinks are really enough for me to show my gratitude. Maybe I could say thanks a bit more physically?”
The agent accompanies this statement with a slow lascivious glance up and down Mike's body, meeting his startled gaze with a half smirk. Those grey eyes are heated now, dark and hungry, and it takes the pilot's brain a second to catch up.
Oh hell yeah, he thinks. This isn't where Mike expected his invitation to lead, but he's hardly going to say no.
“When and where?” the pilot asks and Leon's smirk gets wider.
“Just follow me,” he says. The agent sets his empty glass down on the table before walking toward the bathrooms, a sway to his hips that draws Mike's gaze straight to his ass. It's a nice ass, tight and firm and perfectly framed by his jeans. So the pilot only snaps out of his appraisal once the door shuts behind Leon, cutting off his view.
Oh, right. Following.
Mike chugs down his own drink and then speed walks toward the bathroom, giving a sheepish grin to the bartender when he catches one knowing eye. Alex is going to tease him about this forever but the thought of that ribbing isn't enough to make him stop. Not when he pushes open the bathroom door and is met with the sight of Leon leaning back against the counter, a vision of casual sexiness from head to toe.
“There you are,” the agent purrs and then Mike is being pressed back against the wall. He hears the click of the lock before his lips are captured eagerly.
Leon's mouth is scorching hot as he tilts his head to get a better angle, the rough taste of whiskey on his lips. He kisses like he's starving, deep and hungry, one hand buried in Mike's hair. But the pilot just pulls him closer, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing his moan.
Mike lets his hands roam across the agent's body, stroking down that muscled back and finding hints of skin. He kisses Leon again, lips moving together as he licks beneath the whiskey to taste the sweetness of his mouth. Then the pilot slides his hands lower to grab the agent's ass and grind their hips together, a sudden shock of pleasure shooting through his dick.
“Fuck,” he groans, breaking the kiss to thump his head back against the wall. Leon takes advantage of the motion and bites at the pilot's neck, a sharp burst of pain that only heightens the sensation when he rolls his hips again. In retaliation, Mike squeezes the man's ass more firmly, the move rewarded with a rough moan and hot breath panting against his skin.
Then the agent bites him again, soothing the sharp sting of teeth with his mouth again. He drags down the collar of Mike's shirt and sucks on the exposed skin, marking a hickey above his collarbone.
When Leon's finished there, he starts on another, body still rubbing against Mike's languidly. Gasps and groans as the pilot holds him closer, his cock getting harder with each stroke. It almost hurts when his dick rubs against his zipper, but it's so damn good as well: the feel of those soft lips, that tall muscled body pressed against his own.
Mike clutches Leon tighter and claims his lips again. He swallows the agent's whimper, mapping out every inch of his mouth and sucking on his tongue. They kiss until his cock is throbbing, his lips hot and tingling, and he's only forced to stop when he can't breathe.
Leon's eyes are sparkling with pleasure when they separate, his lips red and hair falling down across his face. It's a good look on him, that easy grin and happiness, and Mike's breath catches when he drops down to his knees.
“I promised I would thank you, didn't I?” the agent says and the pilot can only nod helplessly. He watches transfixed as Leon snaps open the button on his jeans and pulls down the zipper slowly, holding back a whine when his dick is freed.
“Hello, there,” Leon purrs, stroking his length in greeting and Mike honestly isn't sure if it's the touch or the way the agent looks at him that makes his knees go weak. But then the man wraps one hand around his cock more firmly and it really doesn't matter anymore.
Because all he can feel is the rough strokes sweeping his dick from root to tip, gun callouses catching just right on his skin. Mike melts into the touch, only the wall and Leon keeping him upright.
“Good, so good, just like that, babe,” the pilot groans. He loses himself to the sensation, the pleasure building quickly in his gut. Mike thought the agent would be good with his hands, but this is something else entirely.
“You like that?” Leon murmurs and Mike can only moan again when the other man tilts his wrist just right. Then strong hands are gripping the pilot's hips, holding him still as the other man leans forward to lick a wet stripe down his cock. Leon's tongue teases across the slit, lapping at his precum, before taking the head into his mouth.
“Fuck!” Mike shouts at the wet slide of Leon's lips, the tight pressure and slick heat that's wrapped around his dick. The agent swallows him down further, achingly slow and gentle, before he pulls off with a slick gasp. Leon grabs one of the pilot's hands and brings it to his head, waiting patiently until Mike figures out what he wants.
Damn, that's soft, he thinks as he threads his fingers through the agent's hair.
“You can pull a little,” Leon tells him and then bends down again. This time he swallows Mike down to the base, tight and hot and perfect as he bobs his head up and down. The man stares up at Mike through his lashes the whole time, pupils blown dark and wide, and he moans eagerly when the pilot tugs his hair.
Leon really wants this and Mike burns even hotter at that realization; the gorgeous man kneeling at his feet is desperate to bring him pleasure, and that's a wish he can fulfill. So the pilot cradles the back of Leon's head, not to force him, just to feel it, and loses himself in the sensation of that wicked mouth again.
Hot and hungry, the agent's throat is a tease of pleasure around his dick. Every moan, every suck, every gasp is music to Mike's ears, the two of them creating a filthy symphony.
When he looks down again, Leon's own cock is hanging from his pants and he's stroking himself quickly. Each stroke is matched by a rough swallow, each groan an added pressure, a vibration that sends the pilot spiraling. Leon is practically drooling, mouth wet with spit along the edges, his lips slick and bruised, and Mike can't stop himself from snapping his hips forward, straining against the agent's grip.
He's barely holding on as Leon redoubles his efforts. Faster, tighter, hotter, chasing ecstasy. The pilot's eyes flutter shut again on one particularly tight swallow, the sharp wave of pleasure threatening to sweep his mind away.
“I'm gonna cum,” Mike gasps out a warning, but Leon doesn't stop. The agent just sucks harder, presses closer, burying his face against the pilot's groin. He moans again, his whole throat vibrating, and the sensation pushes Mike over the edge.
“Leon!” he shouts, fingers tightening in the man's hair as his thoughts disappear.
When the pilot recovers his senses, he's sitting on the floor, back still leaning against the bathroom wall. Leon is a lazy sprawl on the tiles next to him and the man gives Mike a satisfied smirk before he licks his fingers clean. The pilot's cock twitches at the sight, though he doesn't have the energy to get hard again right now.
“Damn, friend, you sure know how to show your gratitude,” Mike says instead. His whole body is still tingling with the echoes of his orgasm, a pleasurable exhaustion that he hasn't felt in far too long.
“Glad I didn't disappoint,” Leon answers, his voice a gorgeous throaty growl after the abuse his throat has taken. “You want to find a bed and see what else I'm good at?”
Am I dreaming? Or maybe dead? the pilot thinks in surprise. Cause I don't know what the hell I did to deserve this otherwise.
Mike knows he's hot enough, has a healthy self-respect, but he figured this would be a one-off thing at best. Super special secret agents, especially ones that look like Leon, just don't date guys like him. But given the opportunity....
“My apartment isn't far from here. We could grab some takeout on the way,” he offers. That should give the pilot's body a chance to recover so he can show the other man a real good time as well. Can't have the agent doing all the work again.
“I like the way you think,” Leon agrees, still grinning easily.
But then a sharp buzzing sound cuts through their conversation and like a flipped switch, the smile drops off the agent's face. He pulls a phone out of his pocket and swipes through his messages, expression growing blanker the longer that he reads.
“Damn it, I've got to go. They want another briefing,” the man says with a heavy sigh.
Whelp, I guess the dream is over, Mike thinks and it's a slim comfort that Leon looks as disappointed as he feels. At least the pilot will get to keep one damn good memory.
So he follows suit as the agent starts to put himself together, tucking his dick away and straightening his clothes. It's still pretty obvious what the two of them were doing, but at least they won't be arrested for public indecency once they go outside.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Mike says, holding out a hand to shake.
Leon stares at him blankly for a moment, the shameless flirt replaced by a stone-cold soldier, and he finds himself strangely devastated by the idea that they won't even part as friends. But then the agent smiles, his mask cracking before Mike's eyes.
Leon grabs his hand and pulls him closer, stealing one more heated kiss before drawing back again. While Mike is still blinking stupidly, the other man pulls a pen out of his jacket and quickly writes something on his palm.
“Call me later,” the agent murmurs. Then he unlocks the bathroom door and disappears into the hall.
Leon is gone in a split-second, but that doesn't stop the smile spreading across Mike's face. Because when he looks down at his hand, there's a phone number printed neatly on his skin and the pilot knows that someday soon, he'll see that man again.
End
I've realized that USSTRATCOM and the DSO are pretty much the ultimate cock blockers in all my RE stories. But given Leon's situation, it just fits so easily. And while I'll probably never write a sequel to this story, I like to think that Mike and Leon did keep dating after this.
Fandom: Resident Evil
Pairings: Leon/Mike
Warnings: near death experiences
Word Count: 2183 (7146 total)
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Mike would be alive.
Summary: Mike and Leon finally get to have that drink.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Mike leads Leon through the streets of Washington DC, the other man seemingly content to follow quietly. The pilot's usual haunt is only a few blocks away; the location is one of the reasons that he likes the place so much.
'Old Robin's Tavern,' the sign reads, greeting him like an old friend as he pushes the door open.
The place is practically deserted this early on a Tuesday, but that's probably for the best given the way that Leon keeps glancing around warily. The man is still keyed up, likely will be for awhile, and Mike hopes he doesn't have to talk him down. Thankfully the agent relaxes slightly once they find a table and he can put his back against the wall.
“Whiskey, neat,” he orders from the server and the pilot gets himself a pint of what's on tap.
Mike gives Leon a few minutes to get settled before starting up another conversation, no more serious than the one back on the beach. This is meant to be relaxing, not stress or therapy. The agent is still quiet, but he seems glad for the company and he loosens up even further once he finishes his drink.
“Seriously, man, I owe you one,” Leon says, leaning his elbow on the table. “I thought I was screwed 'til you showed up.”
“Just doing my job,” the pilot tells him. “Though I wouldn't say no to another drink if you're feeling generous.”
“Sure thing,” the agent chuckles. He signals to the waiter, ordering another round for both of them before turning back to Mike again. “It may have been your job, but I'm still grateful. I don't usually get backup, let alone air support, and you arrived at the perfect time.”
“Happy to help. Though I still can't believe I got shot down,” Mike grumbles before raising his new glass. “To my poor Huey, you were a good bird.”
“To your helicopter,” Leon agrees. He clinks their glasses together and then downs his drink in one. “You know, given that terrible loss, I'm not sure a couple of drinks are really enough for me to show my gratitude. Maybe I could say thanks a bit more physically?”
The agent accompanies this statement with a slow lascivious glance up and down Mike's body, meeting his startled gaze with a half smirk. Those grey eyes are heated now, dark and hungry, and it takes the pilot's brain a second to catch up.
Oh hell yeah, he thinks. This isn't where Mike expected his invitation to lead, but he's hardly going to say no.
“When and where?” the pilot asks and Leon's smirk gets wider.
“Just follow me,” he says. The agent sets his empty glass down on the table before walking toward the bathrooms, a sway to his hips that draws Mike's gaze straight to his ass. It's a nice ass, tight and firm and perfectly framed by his jeans. So the pilot only snaps out of his appraisal once the door shuts behind Leon, cutting off his view.
Oh, right. Following.
Mike chugs down his own drink and then speed walks toward the bathroom, giving a sheepish grin to the bartender when he catches one knowing eye. Alex is going to tease him about this forever but the thought of that ribbing isn't enough to make him stop. Not when he pushes open the bathroom door and is met with the sight of Leon leaning back against the counter, a vision of casual sexiness from head to toe.
“There you are,” the agent purrs and then Mike is being pressed back against the wall. He hears the click of the lock before his lips are captured eagerly.
Leon's mouth is scorching hot as he tilts his head to get a better angle, the rough taste of whiskey on his lips. He kisses like he's starving, deep and hungry, one hand buried in Mike's hair. But the pilot just pulls him closer, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing his moan.
Mike lets his hands roam across the agent's body, stroking down that muscled back and finding hints of skin. He kisses Leon again, lips moving together as he licks beneath the whiskey to taste the sweetness of his mouth. Then the pilot slides his hands lower to grab the agent's ass and grind their hips together, a sudden shock of pleasure shooting through his dick.
“Fuck,” he groans, breaking the kiss to thump his head back against the wall. Leon takes advantage of the motion and bites at the pilot's neck, a sharp burst of pain that only heightens the sensation when he rolls his hips again. In retaliation, Mike squeezes the man's ass more firmly, the move rewarded with a rough moan and hot breath panting against his skin.
Then the agent bites him again, soothing the sharp sting of teeth with his mouth again. He drags down the collar of Mike's shirt and sucks on the exposed skin, marking a hickey above his collarbone.
When Leon's finished there, he starts on another, body still rubbing against Mike's languidly. Gasps and groans as the pilot holds him closer, his cock getting harder with each stroke. It almost hurts when his dick rubs against his zipper, but it's so damn good as well: the feel of those soft lips, that tall muscled body pressed against his own.
Mike clutches Leon tighter and claims his lips again. He swallows the agent's whimper, mapping out every inch of his mouth and sucking on his tongue. They kiss until his cock is throbbing, his lips hot and tingling, and he's only forced to stop when he can't breathe.
Leon's eyes are sparkling with pleasure when they separate, his lips red and hair falling down across his face. It's a good look on him, that easy grin and happiness, and Mike's breath catches when he drops down to his knees.
“I promised I would thank you, didn't I?” the agent says and the pilot can only nod helplessly. He watches transfixed as Leon snaps open the button on his jeans and pulls down the zipper slowly, holding back a whine when his dick is freed.
“Hello, there,” Leon purrs, stroking his length in greeting and Mike honestly isn't sure if it's the touch or the way the agent looks at him that makes his knees go weak. But then the man wraps one hand around his cock more firmly and it really doesn't matter anymore.
Because all he can feel is the rough strokes sweeping his dick from root to tip, gun callouses catching just right on his skin. Mike melts into the touch, only the wall and Leon keeping him upright.
“Good, so good, just like that, babe,” the pilot groans. He loses himself to the sensation, the pleasure building quickly in his gut. Mike thought the agent would be good with his hands, but this is something else entirely.
“You like that?” Leon murmurs and Mike can only moan again when the other man tilts his wrist just right. Then strong hands are gripping the pilot's hips, holding him still as the other man leans forward to lick a wet stripe down his cock. Leon's tongue teases across the slit, lapping at his precum, before taking the head into his mouth.
“Fuck!” Mike shouts at the wet slide of Leon's lips, the tight pressure and slick heat that's wrapped around his dick. The agent swallows him down further, achingly slow and gentle, before he pulls off with a slick gasp. Leon grabs one of the pilot's hands and brings it to his head, waiting patiently until Mike figures out what he wants.
Damn, that's soft, he thinks as he threads his fingers through the agent's hair.
“You can pull a little,” Leon tells him and then bends down again. This time he swallows Mike down to the base, tight and hot and perfect as he bobs his head up and down. The man stares up at Mike through his lashes the whole time, pupils blown dark and wide, and he moans eagerly when the pilot tugs his hair.
Leon really wants this and Mike burns even hotter at that realization; the gorgeous man kneeling at his feet is desperate to bring him pleasure, and that's a wish he can fulfill. So the pilot cradles the back of Leon's head, not to force him, just to feel it, and loses himself in the sensation of that wicked mouth again.
Hot and hungry, the agent's throat is a tease of pleasure around his dick. Every moan, every suck, every gasp is music to Mike's ears, the two of them creating a filthy symphony.
When he looks down again, Leon's own cock is hanging from his pants and he's stroking himself quickly. Each stroke is matched by a rough swallow, each groan an added pressure, a vibration that sends the pilot spiraling. Leon is practically drooling, mouth wet with spit along the edges, his lips slick and bruised, and Mike can't stop himself from snapping his hips forward, straining against the agent's grip.
He's barely holding on as Leon redoubles his efforts. Faster, tighter, hotter, chasing ecstasy. The pilot's eyes flutter shut again on one particularly tight swallow, the sharp wave of pleasure threatening to sweep his mind away.
“I'm gonna cum,” Mike gasps out a warning, but Leon doesn't stop. The agent just sucks harder, presses closer, burying his face against the pilot's groin. He moans again, his whole throat vibrating, and the sensation pushes Mike over the edge.
“Leon!” he shouts, fingers tightening in the man's hair as his thoughts disappear.
When the pilot recovers his senses, he's sitting on the floor, back still leaning against the bathroom wall. Leon is a lazy sprawl on the tiles next to him and the man gives Mike a satisfied smirk before he licks his fingers clean. The pilot's cock twitches at the sight, though he doesn't have the energy to get hard again right now.
“Damn, friend, you sure know how to show your gratitude,” Mike says instead. His whole body is still tingling with the echoes of his orgasm, a pleasurable exhaustion that he hasn't felt in far too long.
“Glad I didn't disappoint,” Leon answers, his voice a gorgeous throaty growl after the abuse his throat has taken. “You want to find a bed and see what else I'm good at?”
Am I dreaming? Or maybe dead? the pilot thinks in surprise. Cause I don't know what the hell I did to deserve this otherwise.
Mike knows he's hot enough, has a healthy self-respect, but he figured this would be a one-off thing at best. Super special secret agents, especially ones that look like Leon, just don't date guys like him. But given the opportunity....
“My apartment isn't far from here. We could grab some takeout on the way,” he offers. That should give the pilot's body a chance to recover so he can show the other man a real good time as well. Can't have the agent doing all the work again.
“I like the way you think,” Leon agrees, still grinning easily.
But then a sharp buzzing sound cuts through their conversation and like a flipped switch, the smile drops off the agent's face. He pulls a phone out of his pocket and swipes through his messages, expression growing blanker the longer that he reads.
“Damn it, I've got to go. They want another briefing,” the man says with a heavy sigh.
Whelp, I guess the dream is over, Mike thinks and it's a slim comfort that Leon looks as disappointed as he feels. At least the pilot will get to keep one damn good memory.
So he follows suit as the agent starts to put himself together, tucking his dick away and straightening his clothes. It's still pretty obvious what the two of them were doing, but at least they won't be arrested for public indecency once they go outside.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Mike says, holding out a hand to shake.
Leon stares at him blankly for a moment, the shameless flirt replaced by a stone-cold soldier, and he finds himself strangely devastated by the idea that they won't even part as friends. But then the agent smiles, his mask cracking before Mike's eyes.
Leon grabs his hand and pulls him closer, stealing one more heated kiss before drawing back again. While Mike is still blinking stupidly, the other man pulls a pen out of his jacket and quickly writes something on his palm.
“Call me later,” the agent murmurs. Then he unlocks the bathroom door and disappears into the hall.
Leon is gone in a split-second, but that doesn't stop the smile spreading across Mike's face. Because when he looks down at his hand, there's a phone number printed neatly on his skin and the pilot knows that someday soon, he'll see that man again.
End
I've realized that USSTRATCOM and the DSO are pretty much the ultimate cock blockers in all my RE stories. But given Leon's situation, it just fits so easily. And while I'll probably never write a sequel to this story, I like to think that Mike and Leon did keep dating after this.