Invisible Wounds

Warning: This chapter references Resident Evil Gaiden. Learn more about this little known game here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resident_Evil_Gaiden.
Pairing: Leon x Barry Burton, since I’ve never seen it before.

Invisible Wounds

Metal grated on metal, clacking into place, immediately his elbow straightened, rugged fingers cupping the opposite fist. Steadied, he squeezed off the first few rounds of the new clip. The crack of weapon-fire reverberated off the narrow canyon, precious ammunition pelting the ruddy, labor-worn meat of the advancing villager. The wet squelch of each bullet as it entered into flesh pressed his mouth into a disgusted line. What was wrong with these people? Why did they throw themselves at him so fiercely? Why did they take up knife and pitchfork with such single-minded determination to slaughter him? Why were they so difficult to put down?

At last the man, little older than Leon himself, pitched backward into the murky water, his fingers clawed up to the sky as, “Lord Saddler,” hissed from his lungs and rattled out of his mouth in pitiful supplication. Leon was beginning to think this Lord Saddler might be the man so disturbingly pictured under purple cowl in portraiture hung in so many of the villagers’ homes. Swiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist, the blonde agent slogged onward through the water, emerging gratefully onto the dry bank. His relief could not persist long, however, broken by the throaty call of one of the men.

Hissing in a breath between clenched teeth, Leon charged. Lunging forward, each step followed by an equally paced bullet. The man’s shoulders jerked back awkwardly, wobbling backward and at last sending him down, his skull cap knocked off somewhere along the way. Low on ammo, the agent darted forward, sliding his long, double-edged knife deftly from its sheath and plunging it into the villager’s throat.

This time, there was no supplication to a fashion blind lord.

Yanking the knife free, Leon unfolded, flipping and sheathing it easily before his left shoulder. A moment passed in which he paused to wonder how many lives he’d already taken, but he wasn’t a rookie cop anymore. These were no innocents, these leathery skinned men and women, who hurled their axes and bodies at him—who tried to snap his neck with their cold fingers. Putting it from his mind, he checked his clip, blue eyes darting this way and that, before sliding into the small, cabin-like structure the man had exited from. Depressingly small as always, the little shelter offered only a potted herb and a box of shells to make room for in his attaché case. Dimly, Leon wondered when he’d start running into villagers with guns. Fingering his ribs, he thought of the deadly way they wielded sickles. He smirked then, heading toward the large metal double doors that seemed so oddly placed along the path. Pushing them open he chuckled grimly at his fate, should they ever produce these elusive firearms.

The calm lapping of water against lakeshore traveled on eerily quiet air after the clammer of the doors closing had settled into silence. Leon chose the high path, huffing up it, gun raised. Crouching at the top of the rise, he settled just behind a fallen log, and removed binoculars to make a quick tactical sweep of the surroundings.

“Shit,” he hissed, spotting the white block letters of “POLICIA” printed on blue cloth. That must have been the other cop, the one with glasses. At least he thought. His body hung limp into the arms of two village men, as they heaved it overboard. It bobbed, floating in the ripples, and the villagers sped away on their motorboat. Few moments passed, and the village bell peeled three times, before the still waters began to tremble, and the tremor fast became a roiling as a dark shadow grew beneath the dead police officer. The water erupted in a dull roar as a slippery, slimy gray mouth breached the surface, snapping closed around its captured body, and the wedge-like barnacled body arched and crashed back into the lake. Wordlessly, Leon dropped his binoculars and stood straight.

For a moment, he forgot himself. For a moment he thought not of what lay ahead, or the unexplored path to the lake or the monster that lurked beneath. He didn’t think of Ashley, scared and alone, huddled in her church room prison. He thought, instead, of the ocean waves lapping against the hull of the Starlight as the lake now lapped against its shore. He thought of the dark of the luxury interior, and the moans that echoed lifeless off the walls. He thought of the despair then, only then had he felt so alone. In Raccoon City he had Claire—and Ada. On the Starlight, he had had no one. No one, until he had met Barry Burton.

Burton had been sent to rescue Leon after he had lost contact with HQ, but in the dark and foreboding interior of that ship Burton had made Leon feel alive, and then had had taken it all away. The agent’s stomach twisted, remembering the betrayal. The second in his life, the one that had at last hardened him to the motivations of others. Leon never forgave Barry for leaving him for dead in the cold ship, for taking Lucia and running to Umbrella. True, Barry had rescinded, returning with Lucia to join Leon once more. But it was never the same between them again.

Bitter pleasure tickled down Leon’s stomach at the thought of their desperate night together. The way the older man’s hands had spidered so possessively across his flesh. The taut ache in his groin when Barry had scratched his beard across Leon’s neck.

"Please," Leon had cried. He had tried, to Barry’s frustration, to wrap his still clothed legs around his lover, his hot breath coming in spurts in against the older man’s scruffy chin. With awkward urgency, Barry shed the young ex-officer’s pants from his pale, yearning body, exposing the Leon’s ready erection, and tight entrance. Murmuring dizzily, the russet hair young man writhed against his lovers touch, at last worming his legs round the older S.T.A.R.S member’s well-built hips.

Blunt fingernails had slipped and scratched against Leon’s puckered entrance, but rather than cause pain, they only further excited him. Barely had the muscular digits located it, when they were swiftly replace by much more burgeoning girth pressing against. There had been no gentle stretching, nor time to wait for Leon to accommodate Barry’s sex. Impatient to feel the warmth of his comrade’s body, Barry surged forward, piercing deep into the tight depths.

Leon had jerked rigid with pain, barely able to stifle the cry of pain. Regretfully, Burton kissed the youth’s tears away, but his powerful body was already moving in a persistent, delving rhythm. Slowly the sharp pain faded to a burn, that was quickly overcome by the pleasurable length that pistoned inside of him. Fumbling his lips over Barry’s, Leon devoured the older man’s mouth in helpless need. Intuiting what Leon had wanted, Burton closed his hand around Leon’s eager manhood, and began to pump in time to his strong thrust. Impatience heightened into urgency, and Barry’s rhythm built quickly to a harsh staccato, leaving Leon whimpering below the man. Each powerful thrust sent a burst of pleasure throughout Leon’s of the yielding, passion-taut flesh.

All too soon, Leon had twisted sharply, Barry’s engorged length hitting against that one, deep hidden spot inside his body, and the youth’s whole body spasmed with a milky white eruption against Burton’s chest. Leon’s tight inner muscles locked so tightly around Barry’s length that the older man had cried out in his own release, pumping his seed deep inside of Leon.

The memory jolted warm stiffness into his loins, but Leon shoved it away, trying to push the pangs of betrayal along with them. It didn’t work. Bitter hurt scratched at his eyes at the image of the gun pointed at him, the lump of questions that had risen in Leon’s throat. The desperate need to ask “why?” Why had Barry turned his back on him, even for a moment?

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Leon pressed on down the path. Maybe, if he was careful, he could make it across the lake on the boat, just as those two villagers had before him.

A/N: I hope you like it! I’m really proud of this story, an I promise I will continue it very soon. I’m working on the second chapter right now actually. Also, look for an update of my Prince of Persia fic, “Against the Grain” in the near future.