ICKIE BIRD

You startled, knocking the microscope out of focus.  You glared at the ruggedly handsome older man with a week’s worth of scruff and a shaggy haircut too trendy for his age.  The bags under his eyes suggested a late flight, and he smelled like gunpowder and airport.  You pushed the rolling chair back from the work station.

“Lot of samples to get through from the Columbia operation,” you said, accepting the intrusion as a welcome break from endless inert fungal spores, “what’s so important you couldn’t send a courier?”

Leon patted the cooler.  “Thought you might STAT mine, if I asked nicely.”

You sighed, swaying in your chair.  “It’s not protocol.”

“Never bothered with it, myself,” Leon said.

You’ve always been curious about what’s going on in the field, and he’s easy on the eyes.  What could it hurt?  You pushed out of your chair.  “What’d you bring me?”

“Something out of a cook operation in Miami,” he said cryptically, “thought it was going to go Shinrikyo.  Turned out to be a recreational gig.”

“Pills, powders, and suspicious little vials.”  You smirked, an expression that vanished with a sharp inhale as the cooler released a puff of silvery dust.

You both coughed as the substance coated your throats.  You slammed the lid shut and blinked away the dust in your watering eyes, the spores settling on the sleeves of your undershirt.  They sparkled in the air as Leon shook his shaggy head.

“God Damnit,” you hissed.  You reached for Leon’s hand and dragged him to the eyewash station, stomping on the paddle to turn it on.

Two little fountains rose from the spout.  Leon bent down and scrubbed at his face.  You blinked away the spores in your eyes, resisting the urge to rub the irritation out of them.  Leon stepped away, guiding himself with your shoulder as he blinked hard.  Water darkened the front of his tight shirt.

“Did you get it all?” you asked as you rolled your eyes under the water.  You rinsed your mouth as best you could.  The earthy taste clung to your tongue and you fought the urge to cough as you dragged Leon into the decontamination room, “what did you bring me?” you demanded without humor.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Leon was already stripping off his jacket and shaking out a biohazard bag to stuff it in.

You caught yourself staring at the curve of his back and blinked hard.  “No hints about the recreational experience we’re in for?  In the whole of Miami?”

“Just that they were going to make a lot of money.” He pulled down his pants, forcing you to stop glaring out of politeness, but not before you saw the tribal butterfly tramp stamp sitting prettily above his briefs.  

“Anything from nicotine to ayahuasca, got it,” you muttered.

Leon turned on the decon shower, eliminating the possibility of conversation from opposite sides of the room.  You hesitated to pull off your undershirt.  He’s nice enough now, but who could tell how he would react if your body didn’t match his expectations?  He’s older, probably from some branch of law enforcement.  Bad news for you if he has a problem.  You caught the glitter of dust clinging to your undershirt.  Nothing for it now.  You stripped, tying off your own biohazard bag and dropping both in the laundry bin.  When you turned around to join him in the decon shower, you caught the tramp stamp above his indecently round ass and felt a little less afraid.

After a moment of silent scrubbing, Leon bent down to wash his legs—thighs thick, calves well defined.  “Should I get your back?”

“You should buy me dinner first,” you countered, averting your eyes.

“No new overdoses in Miami,” he changed the subject, his back turned to you while he washed his hair with the harsh antibacterial soap, “why we thought…”

“Bioterrorism, right.” You rubbed behind your ears.

You finished scrubbing and stepped out.  Leon reluctantly turned off the water, luxuriating in the heat after a long flight.  You tossed him a towel, and he caught it without looking back.  You lingered as he dried his hair, admiring the rippling muscles of his back.  He paused, his head cocking in your direction.  You cleared your throat and pulled two sets of plastic wrapped scrubs out of the lockers, guessing at Leon’s size.  You handed his over your back and crinkled the plastic loudly until he took it.

Once you were both dressed and smelling of disinfectant, you held the door to quarantine open for him.  You swiped your badge at the next open room and stepped into the hotel-esque quarantine compartment.

Leon turned around, taking in the linoleum floors and unimaginative off-white bedding.  “As good as a Motel Six.”

You flipped the protective cover off the panel by the door and pressed your thumb against the depression in the center, wincing as a needle pricked the pad.  Your name and employee ID number flashed on the screen, a 24 hour countdown to your next test starting.  You stuck the pinpricked finger in your mouth without thinking.

“You’re up.” You motioned to the datapad.

Leon registered himself into quarantine.  “Only 24 hours?”

“Class 3 is bioactive, not pathogenic” you explained, grabbing a bottle of water from the humming minifridge, “you’re good to go as long as your second test comes back normal.”

“Must be nice.”

“What’s yours?” you asked.

“Forty days.” He flopped back on the bed.  

You handed him another water on your way to the sofa.  “They take ‘quarantine’ seriously.”  

He sat up, one arm hooked around a knee, shaking the bottle from side to side three times like it was muscle memory before cracking it open.  He drank greedily, a drop of water trailing down his chin.  He wiped it away on his bare forearm.  You realized you were staring again.

“Leon,” he said, voice hoarse as he fought through a final swallow.

It took you a moment to realize he was introducing himself.  You responded in kind.

“What brings you to the DSO, doc?” Leon asked, resting back on the thin pillows.

You considered complaining that he’d claimed the bed.  “Long story.”

“Give me the short version,” Leon insisted.

You took another sip of water to stall.

“Okay, I’ll start.  My first day as a cop, I got caught in the Raccoon City outbreak,” Leon offered, his eyes closed.

“Too short,” you said, angling your body to look at him.  A strange warmth spread beneath your ribs.

He turned his head, looking at you past his bangs.  “Got recruited into STARS after, and they sent me to rescue the president’s daughter in Spain.”

“You’re that Leon.” You suppressed the impulse to be starstruck.  The Leon Kennedy didn’t know how to properly package a biohazardous sample for transport.

He tore his eyes away, his chest rising and falling more quickly than it had before.  “Then I ended up in the ESR chasing Plaga.”

“Got recruited out of a pharma company,” you said, letting the memory of the incident that led you to the DSO pass you by without lingering.  It was easier than usual, the odd sensation pooling in your abdomen insisted on your focus.  A flush rose up your neck.

“Starting to feel something?” Leon asked, his voice low.

Your eyes met, and breaking eye contact felt like stone grating against stone.  A string deep in your pelvis pulled taut in Leon’s direction.  You clutched the cold bottle in your hands to ground yourself.

“Aphrodisiac,” you said under your breath.

Leon blew out a slow breath, and laughed.  “Gas station dick pills.”

You dropped your head into your hand.  “Gonna make a million bucks.”

“That’s one way to get to know someone,” Leon chuckled.

“Do you have any idea how long this will last?” You begged, asking for anything as the sensation picked up intensity.  Your heart pounded, vision swimming until you focused on anything but Leon.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to look back.  His face pulled into a tense smile.  “Nope.”

“You know, the one thing they don’t stock here is condoms,” you said with a desperate laugh, standing up and pacing across the room.  You opened the door of the minifridge and closed it again.  The only snack you wanted was approaching his fifties and hogging the bed.

“Don’t need them,” Leon reached a hand up and scissored the air, “I shoot blanks.”

“How responsible,” you muttered, resolve weakening by the second.

The silence dragged, both of you pointedly looking at different walls.  The sensation of need traveled down your body, your thighs growing slick without underwear.  It burned, begging you to touch.  You thought your knees might buckle before you made it back to the couch.

A few seconds more, and Leon broke.  He fished himself out of the waistband of the scrub pants, staring past the particle board ceiling as he stroked himself.  You watched for too long.  Your fingers pushed past the waistband of your pants, finding their way through the curls on your mound and down through the slick folds before you realized what you were doing.  

A moan of relief squeezed between your teeth and Leon’s head lolled, his blue eyes burning a hole through you.  You shared a look of surrender. He rolled himself off the bed.  You heard him land in bare feet, the soft rustle of his shirt falling to the floor, then the heat of his body over you.  He stripped you of the loose scrub pants, your legs falling open for him as he placed your hand on his chest.

Your ran your fingers over his sizable pectoral, close enough now to smell his skin over the disinfectant—a rich tone of leather and camphor that made your breath catch in your throat.  His hand searched between your legs, a finger plunging clumsily inside you until he found a rhythm that made your back arch.  His breath puffed hot against your collarbone, callouses rough on your stomach and sides as he pulled his fingers out and lined you up.  

Your slick evaporated on your skin where he grabbed you, thrusting inside with a grunt and holding your hips steady.  He set a straightforward pace driven by impersonal need, but your body welcomed it.  The sound of ragged breathing filled the room.  You dug your nails into his back for purchase.  Crescent scars marred his arms and shoulders—human bitemarks, your sex-addled brain dimly acknowledged. He growled against your neck, the sound sent a shock of pleasure into your diaphragm.

He pulled out before his finish, spraying a blank across your stomach.  Your fingers immediately moved to fill the void he left, coaxing yourself to your own orgasm with a shudder while Leon panted over you.  You breathed in the flushed aftermath until Leon came to his senses and clambered off the couch, pulling his pants back into place.  A few moments later, a damp towel fell across your face and chest.  You wiped off your stomach and stripped off the soiled scrub top, sitting up naked on the couch to take stock of the situation.

Leon returned and dumped all the towels provided on the couch next to you.  You reached blindly for your half-drunk water bottle, the room still sweltering with tension.  He padded shirtless from one and of the room to the other.  He found his phone and leaned against the wall while it rang through to voicemail.  The thin fabric of his scrub pants tented.  Your mouth watered.  You both knew you weren’t done.

A tight smile played on Leon’s lips as you knelt down before him, tugging at his pants until they pooled on the floor.  You ran your hands along the wiry muscle of his thighs.  The tinny voicemail announced “Chris Redfield, leave a message,” as you dragged your tongue up Leon’s shaft.  He throbbed, a drop of precum marring your cheek.

“Chris, I figured out what that stuff was,” Leon’s voice was noticeably tight as you tongued the smooth divot beneath the head of his cock, “we oughta call hospitals in the area, see if anyone came in for—” he held the phone away from his face as you swallowed him, biting back a groan, “see if anyone came in with sexual injuries.”

He hung up with a trembling exhale, his hips bucking up to meet you as you pulled your mouth off him with a wet pop.  You reveled in the taste of your own arousal lingering on his skin, lapping at him from the base of his balls to the tip and back the other way as he fisted his fingers in your hair.  He held you there as you took him in again, fucking your willing mouth as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.  Tears gathered in your eyes as he picked up the pace.  

You ran your hands over the arch of his hip bones, then through the coarse hair on his thighs.  A tear trailed down your face as you pulled off him and sucked in a hungry breath.  You looked up at Leon, face flushed and lips swollen, and grinned.

“What’s that look for?” Leon asked, panting hard.

“Want a wager?” you asked, tapping your own cheek with the head of his cock.

He ran a hand through his hair.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Make me cum three times and I’ll STAT anything you bring me from here on out,” you said.

He pulled you up by the chin and kissed you hard, tongue passing your teeth with ravenous insistence.  You gasped, arching into him as his tongue passed over your bottom lip before he bit it.  Your feet left the ground, his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh on the back of your thighs as he hoisted you onto the cheap dresser.

His fingers plunged inside you, his other hand pressing you back into the wall by your shoulder.  You squirmed as he crooked his fingers inside you, his breath ghosting hungrily across your lips.  Your overwrought body responded embarrassingly fast, shuddering with a sudden and violent release.

“One down, two to go.”  Leon smirked as he withdrew his fingers.

“Goddamn,” you panted, but you didn’t have time to recover before he picked you up princess-style and tossed you onto the bed.

You sprawled face-first on the bedspread with a yelp.  You trembled in the aftermath of your orgasm, but the aphrodisiac coursing through your body refused relief.  You arched into his touch when he pulled up your hips.  The cheap bedframe creaked with his movement.  Leon’s fingers dug into the pliant flesh of your thighs, lust barely restrained.  You groaned through gritted teeth, the pressure bordering on painful.

His cock slid between your glutes.  Slick dripped down your thighs in anticipation.  You arched your back, encouraging him onward.  He readjusted his grip, sliding his rough palms down your sides and angled his hips.  Your body sucked him in, relishing in the feeling of fullness as he pressed himself deep inside you.  A moan dragged out of your chest, legs shaking so hard that his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“That good?” Leon teased you, but his voice had gone raspy and his breath quick and hard as he bent over the smooth plane of your back.  

You pressed your hips back into him, tentatively fucking yourself.  Leon’s breath hitched when you moved.  He ran his hand along your spine until he reached the nape of your neck and pushed you down into the pillows.

“Slow down,” Leon ground out, setting himself a pace that drove his entire length into you with each careful thrust.

Your center burned with the movement, each detail of his body inside of yours sending a shock of pleasure through your stomach.  You whined open-mouthed into the pillow, fingers digging into the cheap bedding in an attempt to ground yourself.  Leon panted roughly above you, savoring the devouring pull of your body on his.  His thumb massaged jerky circles into the tense muscle of your neck.

Leon fought his own release, unwilling to slow down further as you pressed tight around him.  “Come on,” he coaxed, “give it to me.”

You did, stars flashing in your eyes as your orgasm overtook you.  Your entire body trembled with the force of your release.  Leon gasped in your ear, his body folding over yours as you milked him dry.  Both of you lay there panting for a long moment, your bodies feeling the strain. 

Still, the aphrodisiac persisted.  Your body cried out for more even as your abdomen cramped from repeated orgasms.  Your head swam with the thick scent of Leon on top of you, his breath warming your neck.  His hips still rocked in the aftermath, erection refusing to leave.

“That’s two,” he finally whispered, marking the occasion.

You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words as he slid out of you.  His second blank spilled down your thighs in warm rivulets.  You shivered, your body resenting his absence, but he didn’t leave you wanting for long.

Resting a shaky hand on your lower back, he collected his spend dripping down your thighs with the other and pressed it back into you with two slick fingers.  You groaned, toes curling from the sensation.  He watched you writhe with rapt attention, his fingers pulsing in and out of you with a wet decadence you’d never achieved before.  He hooked his fingers slightly, earning a groan from you.

You drooled on the pillow, back arching weakly into his fingers as he tried to urge you into another release.  You whimpered as your body cramped, the muscles clamping down tight as release erased the thoughts from your head again.  Leon fingered you through it, waiting until you stopped pulsing hard to pull out.  You lay there, mind empty except for the throbbing need that seemed to be reaching its final plateau.

“Three for three,” Leon mumbled, falling on the bed next to you.  Sweat stuck his pale bangs to his forehead and he shivered with exhaustion, but he looked at you with hunger all the same.

“You want to go for four?” You rasped.

Leon rolled over and pulled you into his body.  His length pressed into you, still hard as he adjusted your hips until he found your entrance again.  “This is all I have in me,” he muttered into the back of your neck as he pulled your body into his.

He fucked you lazily, your bodies bleeding into one another.

You woke tacky with sweat, Leon’s arms iron around your waist.  At some point he had slipped out, maintaining an inescapable embrace.  You tried to turn over, and his grip tightened for a second before he eased out of sleep and blinked blearily at you.  Your abdomen ached like you had spent the night doing crunches, your brain peeling away from your skull with a wicked dehydration headache.

“You all there, Leon?” you asked him.

Leon released you and sat up, his hand searching the bedstand for the tepid water abandoned there.  He drank deeply, and handed the remaining half to you.  You propped yourself up on an elbow and finished the bottle off, wiping your lips with the back of your arm.

“What time is it?” you wondered, throwing an arm across your eyes to block out the fluorescent lights above.

Leon glanced at the alarm clock.  “Five.”

“AM?”

“No,” he ran an exasperated hand through his hair, his voice hoarse, “I don’t normally stay for breakfast.”

You sat up on the side of the bed.  The room still stank of sex, both of you sticky with it, so you wandered to the bathroom and ran the shower and fan.  Once clean, you plucked a fresh-looking towel off the pile on the couch.  Leon followed your example.  His phone rang, you snuck a peek at the screen and noted several missed calls.  Two more accumulated while he took his time in the shower.  You opened a fresh bottle of water while you waited.

“When are we out of here?” Leon asked, pulling a fresh set of scrubs from the drawer you kindly left open for him.

“You showed up after midnight,” you reminded him.

He seemed perturbed, so you offered him the rest of your water.  He sprawled on the couch.

“Someone’s trying to get ahold of you.”  You tossed his phone onto his plush chest.

He groped for it blindly and brought it up to his face, shading his eyes from the screen turned up to full brightness.  He sighed through his teeth and called Chris back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Leon replied after some scolding on the other end of the call, “it’s an afri—” he looked at you for clarification.

“Aphrodisiac,” you said.

“Aphrodisiac,” he repeated, “no, better than oysters.  Yeah, I’m in quarantine until midnight.  With—”

He glanced at you, asking for permission.  You shook your head.

“With one of the lab techs,” he told Chris, who you heard laughing.

You flipped through the food pamphlet left on the desk until Leon finished his call.  His head fell back in defeat, his face flushed in embarrassment.  He rubbed at his cheek like he could rub the blush away.

“I know you don’t stay for breakfast,” you began, coming around the back of the couch, “but as long as you’re here, do you want to get some dinner?”