Luis Serra

i thought luis was rather pessimistic behind his flirtatious appeal, referring to leon as sancho implying that he views his past in parallel to the uphill battle between don quixote and the windmills. but a part of me also views that as him trusting leon will always be on his side, despite how bizarre and delusional that might be. and leon proves him right at the end. the end!! so i wanted to depict the famous (or infamous) windmill scene, but instead of the usual “don quixote falls to the ground”, it’s “don quixote the fierce knight charges for what he believes to be the evil out of his chivalrous heart”, just like how leon sees luis.

STILL NOT FINISHED

That claim makes Ares draw further back as though the words might burn him. His eyes shift warily between the two men, Luis smiles in a way that makes no sense and Leon gives a type of impassive frown that doesn't seem like anger so he doesn't know what emotion to assign to it. They're confusing him and his own frown deepens.

He scoffs when the caring one wants him to eat. So that was it then? They didn't want him combat ready to flip the script on the organisation that sent him. It was going to be a guilt-free disposal. He set his jaw firmly and turns his head in a defiant little refusal.

What he doesn't expect is for Luis to take a bite. It throws him. He's visibly upset because it goes directly against his own assessment. The world is cruel, especially to an asset. He doesn't enjoy this trick because what else could it be?

Ares eyes the bright wrapper. Reaches for it, resigning himself to... he doesn't even know what. Some interrogation? Maybe they are using a tactic of associating Luis to someone nice so that he will confide in him. He stares a moment longer at the milk chocolate before he takes a comically small bite, just barely shaving some off with his teeth to taste.

The young man perks at the sweetness hitting his tongue. He licks the rest from his tooth, it's...? He takes a sudden bite and chews. Doesn't even realise there are tears forming in his eyes as he tastes the best fucking thing he's ever been given. He doesn't know the words to describe the tastes. It's like there's something smooth in his mouth. And it's... is happy as taste? He doesn't know. He blinks and a tear streaks down his cheek.

Luis felt his heart ache at the sight of Ares experiencing chocolate for the first time. Because it was pretty clear that this was exactly what happened right now. There were several layers to this.

First, the cold and cruel fact that this young clone had never experienced such simple joys even. The Connections truly had treated him like a tool. A weapon. Why would they let a weapon have anything…?

Second, the way this face was a perfect mirror copy of his husband’s face. Younger, of course. Innocent. That alone made Luis weak.

And third, how Luis could exactly tell, how Ares felt. Because Lusi had experienced the same, when he had left Valdelobos. Oh, how he had spent weeks and months exploring new tastes. And he felt like he still wasn’t all done yet.

Luis smiles, there is a sad tinge to it for a moment. Then he perks up and searches his jacket again – producing another chocolate bar. This one with hazelnuts. It is laid in top of Ares’ lap.

“Here you go. Sadly, that’s all I have of those on me… but I bet you want a more proper meal, too. I bet I can get you some cupnoodles, if they let me have hot water. When I was your age, I lived solely on these two things.”

Luis folds his hands as he rests his elbow son his knees, watching Ares still. He tilts his head a little.

But she's doing that too. She's watching a gorgeous man explore her body, equal parts whispering and bruising. Her legs have to stretch to straddle his hips. He looks thin and lanky until she has to spread herself around him. There's a sweet ache in her thighs, and her core too.

"Oh, God," her breath shudders. Luis' slender fingers know what to search for, exposing more of her sensitive bundle by easing her clitoral hood back. It's such a simple little action but it's stoking her pleasure from something controlled to something she cannot contain.

Her arms steady around his shoulders in something like an affectionate hug. More like holding on for shreds of sanity as she rides his cock faster, his fingers encouraging her to chase more of that high. There are subtle wet claps of skin that should mortify her. Her arousal produces even more slick, he and the car are going to smell like their coupling after-the-act.

Her breasts bounce obscenely with the constant shift of her body meeting his. If this is a mistake, a sin, something wrong, she doesn't care much. In the moment it feels like exactly what she needs, it's sweet, and it's good. There's another car. Oh, fuck —

But Claire is hardly predictable. And his mind so far taken from reality by all of this, that Luis remains oblivious to the strangers approaching in another car.

A sharp little surprised breath escapes Luis, as he suddenly is pulled down and then atop of her. It only makes him drag himself closer to her, as if he is afraid to lose this intimate contact.

Luckily the repositioning and almost-slipping-out only serves to give him the opportunity to hone her demand immediately. One of Luis’ arms catches him above her head, so he can hold himself up. His other has to leave her core for a moment. But oh, he gives her a show for this moment.

Instead of wrapping his hand around her thigh immediately, he lays his slick-covered fingers onto his tongue, slowly licking her arousal off while his grey eyes remain fixate don her. And he slowly thrusts himself back into her.

Leon smiles to himself at the sudden sound of a small weight's footsteps racing towards the windmill. Seems like the structure is connected to this barn, so he simply stands and waits for little Don Quixote's assessment. He's a bright kid.

Proven when he races back again and relays the 'solution'. There were some adults he could send with the same task who wouldn't complete it as quickly, or even with an answer. He perks up from where he leans and turns, meeting the kid's eyes.

"Oh, you're still here..? Okay. Let's see if I can help." Leon moves toward the ladder now that he has permission to join. Though he hesitates with his hand at the first rung when the kid's head appears with another questions. He grins a little.

"It means I'm from America." He offers, already certain it's not enough information. Instead of overexplaining, he climbs up to the second floor and waits for further questions. There's something like a wash of relief when no sudden voices chase up after him. To be honest his luck tends to be abysmal, he'll take the small win.

America. He had barely heard about that place. Very far away. At the other side of the ocean. But that was about it. He watches the blond man climb up and mulls over all the questions he could ask. How was it in America? Why was he so far away here? Did all Yanquis have golden hair? Could he try on his jacket?

But Luis doesn’t get to ask any of these – easily distracted by a question that makes his face light up.

“Don Quixote!”, he exclaims immediately, jumping to his feet and bouncing a little.

“It is my most favourite book! I can show you when we get to my home! It is very big, but I read it all! My abuelo and chief Mendez taught me to read! And now I read it again! Don Quixote is the best! He also fights against windmi- I mean giants!”

Lusi chuckles a little, before grabbing some broken wooden tool from the ground, holding it like a Lance.

“Come on, Sancho Panza! We have a giant to fight, so he opens the gate for us!”

And off he runs, through the back door and over the rickety old walkway to the windmill.

Claire doesn't think it through. Luis is a potential co-worker, or volunteer, or whatever TerraSave is all about. She still thinks it's all too good to be true. He thinks it could be an opportunity for both of them. Does he actually want to join for the humanitarian work, or does he want to put more distance between his former life? She wants to believe in him. Should she?

Those are the questions she should be asking. Instead she's wondering what else Paris taught him — he's an amazing kisser, turns out his mouth is good for more than just running off.

There is a little hesitance between them. They're both dancing around it, their hands never committing to roaming beneath clothing while their hips move shamelessly.

And at the moment, Luis was lucky that this was him.

He watched her, drank her in. His lips parted slightly at the beautiful sight of her. It was chaotic and they should not… but it was also so perfect. How the setting sun made her skin glow gold and her hair fire red.

A low moan escaped Luis, before his mouth is claimed again. He closed his eyes and allowed himself just to feel. How she moved against him. How slick she was, how velvety she felt inside, how some of her strands tickled against his arms.

One arm snaked around her waist, holding her in place, his own hips straining up against her, as if he could plunge himself into her any deeper. His other hand was gentle. Fingerpads drawing along the silhouette of her breast, where her nipples perked up under his ghostlike touch. It was almost too little to count as a touch at all.

And it was the contrast to how Luis dipped his head then, kissing over her collarbone, along the column of her throat. Hard and passionate. Breath caressing over her wet skin. Teeth grazing her.

She's flippant. She has to be, because that question really makes her want to reach over and smack him. Instead she looks to the paper with Chris' face printed on it. It's an old photo, one they pulled from his S.T.A.R.S. identification. He wouldn't kick a man when he's down, would he? He'd probably be nice enough to offer a hand up.

But she isn't as nice as her brother. "There were people eating people in the streets. Some of them looked like rotting corpses. Some of them still looked like people, I guess recently turned. It was... an entire city ripping itself apart. It felt hopeless enough. Then that fucker made his appearance." She points at the Tyrant. She didn't know he had a name. To her, she was the relentless chaser through the halls, the stomping boots, the stupid looking hat that didn't disguise shit.

All of them tore at his heart.

He felt as if she had doused him in shame. As if this had all been his doing. It had not… but… part of it…

“I’m sorry…”, he uttered so quietly. It was so little, but his tone was honest, as genuine as it could be. His eyes still stared through the papers she had scattered in front of him. But his mind was in his own memories.

“I didn’t want this… I… I just wanted to help…”

That had been all. Everything he had done, he had chased this education, this dream, this very research because of one person. The one, who had been his whole world, all of his family. And now it all turned out to have been a lie. The Nemesis project… it had only bene revolutionized because he had been part of it. Because he had been the one to bring forth the parasite residing deep in the mountains of Valdelobos.

Abuelo would hate me…

“I thought we would help people who are sick… they told me it was to make quadriplegic walk again. To mend neurodegenerative diseases. To help those, who lose all control over their own body…”

How abuelo’s hands had looked. Cramped up and tense. His tendons showing through marred skin. Digging painfully into Luis’ arms. And how his face had looked at this…

“Those, who die suffering from pain in their body – and their mind…”

How he had screamed. How he had tried to muffle his suffering at night, hoping Luis wouldn't hear how he bit into blankets.

You hold yourself against the waves / You say the water's fine