Mushroom Cat

I’d only been back in bed for half an hour, having gotten up at dawn like usual to feed the geese.

Their competitive honking tournament had just winded down and I had just dozed off when I was rudely awoken when the phone rang, followed shortly by a door slamming in the distance. The screaming became louder and louder as it got closer to the house, even before that I swear I could hear it like an echo or a murmur in the wind. I swept my hand across the mattress, feeling for the familiar warmth of my beloved, but the other side was cold, so I clambered out of bed with a groan to watch the incoming missile from the window.

Peeta was carrying it, Katniss trailing behind, her face set like stone, her hand gripped tightly around her bow. Peeta stopped, turned to her and she nodded as he resumed his resolute march towards my house; Katniss took off at a jog in the opposite direction and slipped into the trees. I sighed and turned my attention back to Peeta who adjusted his grip on the bundle and disappeared from sight under my porch. After a few moments he reappeared, tugged his hat over his ears, shoved his hands in his pockets and headed briskly down the frosty lane towards town.

I turned back to the bed and had just slipped under the covers when the screaming got louder. Great, now it was in my fucking house, and the pillow wasn’t muffling a damn thing.

“Shhh shhh little one,” Effie cooed, her smile slipping into a grimace as she rocked the bundle back and forth in her arms.

“Fuck me,” I groaned from my place on the couch where I had taken residence after giving up trying to get back to sleep. I raked my hand through my hair. “What’s wrong with it?”

“The doctor said there was nothing unusual, just colic. That’s what Peeta said.” Effie frowned. “Maybe they could get a second opinion, perhaps I could inquire from someone in the Capitol?”

“Yeah and order us a matching set of ear drum replacements whilst you’re at it.” I rubbed my temples with my forefingers.

Effie threw me a tight smile and resumed her rocking, I watched her slippered feet as she paced to and fro across the living room rug. “I know, I know,” she murmured into the blanket. “It’s ever so frustrating when you can’t tell anyone why you’re upset.” She was pursing her lips, twisting them from one side to the other in the way she only does when she’s getting upset but pretending not to be. Maybe one of her migraines was creeping in, I certainly felt something brewing in the back of my skull.

The screaming had mercifully dampened to loud crying, so I used the opportunity to try and cheer her up about this headache inducing start to what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning.

“Maybe you could try singing to it?”

Effie stopped pacing and glared at me, which was good, glaring is always preferable to her being upset.

“When has my singing ever made anyone stop crying?” She chuckled despite herself. “Start crying maybe.”

I returned her smile, leaning forward to grab my mug of coffee from the table when suddenly the screaming once again commenced, somehow even louder than before. I glanced up at Effie’s face, and any amusement, however slight, drained from the situation when I saw her positive facade shatter like glass. Effie’s cheeks had drained of colour, her brilliant blue eyes wide and panicky, her lip quivered and whilst she retained her hold on the bundle she recoiled her head away from the noise as if it was causing her physical pain. My heart started to thud in my chest, wherever she was now, it wasn’t in our safe and cozy living room.

“Alright, that’s enough.” I stood up and moved in front of her. “Go outside, have a breather.” I took the bundle from her arms.

“I’m okay,” Effie murmured, though her rigid stance and short, shaky breathes told a different story.

“Take a break, Eff. I’ve got this.” I nodded to the front door, trying not to flinch as the screaming pierced my ears.

“Okay, thank you Haymitch.” Effie squeezed my arm and practically ran for the door, not even stopping to cover her dressing gown in a coat.

I walked back to the couch and placed the bundle on the seat and stood up, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You’ve upset my wife.” I said loudly.

The baby made a short cry, fought off her blanket with short sharp kicks and then blinked up at me. If I hadn’t already been deafened by the screaming, the silence that followed would have done the job.

“Oh so you do have an off switch?” I peered down at the kid, watching her red face dilute to a less furious color. She squirmed again, maybe testing out her new environment and I pressed my shin into the couch cushion to prevent her from rolling off the side. “If I pick you up are you gonna start that shit again?” It seemed stupid to worry about a baby understanding me, or my not so kid friendly language, but something about the way she was looking at me with those big dark eyes made me think perhaps she did. Now that she'd stopped screaming she was kinda cute, with a mop of dark brown hair and wide slate grey eyes ringed by long eyelashes I was sure Effie secretly envied.

I braced myself and leant down. “Here goes nothin.” I said, scooping the kid up into some semblance of the position I’d seen her parents and Effie adopt.

”Support her head! Support her head!” I could almost hear Effie’s voice, frantic with concern the first day Katniss got back from the hospital. I’d held the baby for all of thirty seconds before she’d been extracted from my arms with a sympathetic smile from the traveling nurse. Not that I blamed her really, letting an old drunk hold something that precious was hardly ever a good idea, even if said old drunk was nine toes into sobriety by that point.

Today I was actually sober, despite the stresses of the morning, and had been since the day I first held this “bundle of joy.” Though thinking about it, she hadn’t inspired much of that particular emotion in her parents, who looked as though they’d aged a decade in the past two months; or her well meaning… whatever Effie was to her, who was often left in floods of tears, that I then had to deal with when the kid would scream and scream at a volume that would have been impressive if it wasn't so painful. No, this little bundle in my arms certainly hadn’t brought me much joy so far, hence why I had left all the baby handling to the others. "Better to keep her at arm's length, Eff, never know when the shakes might come back." The oldest excuse in the drunkard's book.

“Effie doesn’t like loud noises like that, kid.” I said, cradling her head in the crook of my elbow. “Maybe one day when you’re older she’ll tell you why, but until then you’ve gotta give her a break, alright? She wants to be a hands-on Aunt or Grandmother or whatever she decides she is to you, you gotta promise not to scream in her face okay?” I held out my pinkie finger and the baby gripped it tightly in her chubby fist. “That’s a promise then.” I said softly, smiling despite myself.

Something about my smile seemed to entertain the baby, because she gave out a shriek of laughter before pulling my finger into her mouth, gumming it with all her might. “That funny?” I laughed, curling my finger so that she could chew on my knuckle, glad that I had thought to wash up before I came downstairs. I stepped over to the window overlooking the garden and watched the geese waddling about in the early spring sunshine. “And I thought those things were a pain in the ass, they’re nothing compared to you.” The baby smiled around my finger, all wide eyes and pink gums and drool. It should have been gross but it wasn’t, not even a little bit.

“Please tell me she’s alive.” Came a voice from behind us.

I turned and chuckled. “She’s fine, she’s mauling me to death though.”

“How did you get her to stop crying?” Effie breathed, coming to stand beside me, her hand hovering over the baby’s head, scared to break the spell.

“I dunno,” I shrugged, “I guess I spoke to her like she was a tiny person, I’m not exactly one for baby talk.”

Effie laughed softly, leaning her head on my shoulder, her skin felt cold through my shirt. “Oh little one, how beautiful your eyes are when they’re not full of tears.”

I leant my cheek on the top of Effie’s head. “Could say the same about you princess, you okay?”

Effie sighed and nodded under my cheek. “I’m fine, it’s just the screaming y’know… brings back bad memories.”

“I know, love,” I turned my face and pressed a kiss to her hairline. I adjusted my arm so the baby was sitting up slightly, facing us. “Anyway this one and I have made a promise that she’s not gonna make so much of a fuss from now on right? Not when Auntie Effie is around, right?”

The baby released my finger and laughed again, more of a tinkling giggling sound this time.

“Fuck,” I laughed, “that’s such a cute noise.”

“Haymitch, language.” Effie swatted me lightly on the chest.

“What? She likes it.” I grinned.

“You going to be a potty mouth like your Uncle, missy?” Effie brushed the tip of the baby’s nose with her finger and she giggled again.

“That really is a fucking cute noise.” Effie laughed.

The baby squirmed slightly in my arms, and I braced myself for another scream when she opened her mouth wide.

“You and me both little one,” Effie yawned. “Look, she’s dropping off.”

We watched as the baby began to settle, her eyes fluttering open and closed as if she was fighting sleep. “Stubborn as your mother.” I murmured, rocking her back and forth gently.

“You want to put her down? I can go get her travel cot.” Effie whispered.

“Nah, I wouldn’t dare, I’ll stay here.” I settled into the couch, propping my elbow up on a cushion. “Go and get another hour in, I’ll come and wake you up.”

“You sure?” Effie wrung her hands.

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” Effie draped the baby blanket over my arms. “Not like she needs that when she’s being held by a furnace.” She smiled.

“Well you know what they say, warm hands, cold heart.”

“Says the only person in Panem who’s been able to settle her.” Effie shook her head. “The little ones have always loved you.” She stroked the hair out of my eyes and kissed my forehead lightly. “Peeta should be back soon. He just went to the bakery to see if the new oven is working properly, he said he wouldn’t be long but…” Effie looked down at Peeta’s now sleeping offspring. “He might have taken the long way back, he doesn’t like the screaming either.” She tapped her temple with a forefinger.

“Can’t blame him for that.” I nodded and watched as Effie crept up the stairs, avoiding the creakiest of the floorboards back to our room.

The fire was all but burnt out in the fireplace with just a few embers still glowing in the grate, it wouldn't be long before we wouldn't need a fire to warm up the house enough to coax Effie out of bed in the morning. In a few weeks the fireplace would be swept of ash and filled with fresh flowers from the garden, maybe some from the meadow too. I could smell Spring on the breeze when I fed the geese that morning, but for now the ground was still hard and the fire still demanded of from my eternally chilly wife. I watched the embers crackle and flicker until my eyes unfocused, then I shook myself and gazed down at the little sleeping creature in my arms, running a gentle finger across the back of her tiny hand.

I'd never really understood it when people said how mesmerizing babies could be, people at the Hob would shake their heads and call their new baby a 'time waster,' with a little elbow nudge as if I must surely understand so universal a feeling, but now somehow I got it. I really could just sit there and watch her sleep for hours, count each finger and toe, each eyelash, now she was asleep I finally got the appeal. I was so entranced I didn't hear the front door open, or the footsteps coming up behind me.

“Haymitch if you have given my daughter whisky so help me.”

I snorted and turned as far as I dared. “Well I guess it’s better than assuming I've somehow killed her. You and your escort have very low expectations of me, I’m tempted to feel offended.”

Peeta slumped into the couch next to me, the bags under his eyes were dark, though the eyes themselves sparkled with happiness as he peered down at his baby.

“How’d you get her to sleep?”

“Wasn’t hard, tried a few things.” I was enjoying this new sense of superiority quite a lot actually.

“But not booze?”

I rolled my eyes, “That was going to be my next option.”

Peeta smiled, then closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. “I didn’t think it was going to be this hard. I mean, I adore her of course but… it’s just really hard.”

“You’re doing a good job, kid. She’ll grow out of it.”

"Yeah, I guess. I just don't know what to do when she's like that, it's like nothing either of us do makes a difference, and it doesn't help that the screaming puts me on edge which then puts Katniss on edge..." Peeta waved his hand. "It's just hard."

I nodded, even though Peeta's eyes were still closed and gently flicked a lock of hair off his baby's forehead. "She's been quite the handful." I agreed.

"It's so nice to just sit and it be quiet." Peeta murmured, stretching out his legs.

"Yeah I bet."

It was quiet for a while, I counted tiny fingernails, one, two, three…

"How's the new oven? Did you get it working?"

When I heard no reply I turned my head, Peeta was fast asleep, his hat having fallen down over his eyes.

“Eff, Peeta’s back, but he's passed out on the couch."

Effie blinked up from her duvet cocoon before shifting to sit against the headboard. "Is he okay?" She rubbed her eyes and I tried not to laugh, she loved his daughter, but Peeta was her real baby.

"He's fine, just exhausted."

“She still asleep?” Effie nodded to my arms.

"Yeah, you wanna take her? I really need a piss."

Effie rolled her eyes but nodded, adjusting the duvet over her torso. Gently I laid the baby in her arms and took a step back.

“Oh she’s just so precious,” Effie beamed up at me, stroking the back of her finger against the baby’s hair, and for a moment I felt a pang of sadness, for another life we might have lived if things had been different.

When I returned from the bathroom Effie was wearing the same entranced expression I’m sure I had just been wearing on the couch, and I kissed her cheek as I got into bed next to her.

“Cute huh?”

“As a button, I could stay here all day.”

“That’s why they call them time wasters.” I said knowingly, leaning my chin on Effie’s shoulder. “You wanna go to the market today? We need to shift all those eggs.”

Effie nodded. “Sure, let’s let Peeta get some rest first though.”

We sat together for a long time, watching a sunbeam arc across the wall until both our stomachs grumbled almost in sync. Our laughter at the way our bodies had become so used to our daily routine woke up the baby, but she didn't scream this time, just waved her little hands in the air trying to catch at the ends of Effie's hair scarf. “Come down and I’ll make some breakfast, Katniss must be on her way back by now.”

"Right behind you," Effie laughed.

I was just passing the front door when a shadow flitting across the my periphery caught my eye and I peered out of the window that looked into the porch. Katniss was standing on the doorstep, her good ear trained on the door. I imagined that’s how she must look when she’s hunting in the woods, tense and alert and ready to run. I pulled the door open sharply, making her jump.

“Come to collect your progeny?”

Her glare turned suspicious as looked past me through to the sitting room to where Peeta was still sprawled out on the couch. Katniss sighed. "Has he..." She trailed off, her eyes flicking to the bottom of the staircase to where Effie was now standing, giggling as the baby tugged clumsily on her hair scarf.

“You got her to stop screaming?” Katniss breathed, brushing past me.

“Oh, no.” Effie laughed. “Not me, this was all Uncle Haymitch.” She nodded at me.

Katniss turned, raising her eyebrows. “Oh really? Uncle Haymitch has a secret talent does he? Didn't feel the need to share with the class at any point in the last two months?”

“Maybe,” I shut the door softly, “Soothing babies isn’t really something you can win sponsors for, so perhaps I didn’t feel the need to show off.” Of course, I didn’t know I could do it until an hour ago, but Katniss didn’t need to know that, and I certainly did want to show off.

“Besides,” I came round to put my arm around Effie’s shoulder. “If I can do it, really Katniss, how hard can it be?”

It’d be easy to say that I regretted that little remark, given that it inspired the Everdeen-Mellark duo to speed over to my house at all hours of the day and night and press their crying baby into my arms, but honestly, and I’d never admit this to anyone but you, kid: I loved every fucking minute of it. Even when your Aunt Effie got me a baby carrier as an “early birthday present”, even when your father insisted that he take about a million photos of me wearing it as you and I fed the geese. Even when your mother just ‘happened’ to let it slip that I was some sort of baby whisperer to the entire Hob.

It was worth it to see your parents come back to themselves, to not look so tired and worried they were doing something wrong. It was worth it to see Aunt Effie's delight at being able to finally dress you in those frilly monstrosities she's spent the last year making, without you screaming bloody murder. It was worth it for me, a man who's spent far too much of his life convincing himself that he wasn’t wanted or needed, to let myself be both to you.

You kept your promise too, you never did scream at Aunt Effie again, and I’m grateful to you for that, little one, because even if it didn't work on you, I'll admit that I spent many years crying into her arms, and she was always able to make me feel like things would be okay some day; and here we are now, she was right, like always.

Now you’re too big to strap to my chest, but you still hold my finger so tightly as you toddle next to me across the meadow or through town. Your parents told us the news today, guess I'll have to dust off the carrier again, seems like my baby whisperer duties will be resuming, unless your little brother or sister decides to be better behaved, is it wrong if I hope that they're just like you?

It occurs to me that even though you kept your promise, I didn't make one of my own. It's not always been easy for me to want to stick around, I hope your life never makes you feel that way. So maybe when we all go down to the lake tomorrow, you can hold my pinkie as we walk, and I’ll promise that I’ll stick around for you. For you and your parents who trusted me when they had no reason to, and for your Aunt Effie, who loved me when no one in their right mind should have. And I know you don’t understand everything yet, but one day maybe I’ll tell you what it means for me to want to stay.

Tysm for reading!

I just love the idea of Uncle!Haymitch/Grandpa!Haymitch being good with babies, it surprises everyone a little at first, but also makes a lot of sense. Also post-Capitol-torture Peeta and Effie, my absolute beloveds <3 Katniss and Haymitch also love each other a lot, I hope I didn't make them too antagonistic, it's all love really!

Should I put this on Ao3?

The R.P.D. lobby felt cavernous but not from its size but rather for the lack of survivors or police force, leaving behind a hollow silence that pressed faintly against your ears.

Dust hung everywhere, faintly visible in the dim, fractured light filtering through high windows and the marble floors were now streaked with grime and darker stains you refused to examine too closely.

Leaning back against one of the wooden desks, edge digging faintly into your lower spine through the layers of your gear, arms wrapped tightly across your chest. The tactical vest felt heavier with its straps that snug across your shoulders.

Your fingers tucked under your arms, gripping your sleeves, more for something to hold than warmth.

Leon stood a few steps away, hands raised slightly as he adjusted his own vest, tugging at the straps and outlining the firm lines beneath in a way that was hard not to notice even in a situation like this and his brows furrowed as he glanced around, blue eyes wide with disbelief and tension.

“This place is completely empty,” he muttered, voice echoing.

Tilting your head back slightly, eyes half-lidded as they stared toward the ceiling for a moment before answering.

“Considering what’s happening outside,” you muttered, shifting your weight and glancing toward the shuttered entrance, “I’m not surprised.”

Your gaze drifted back to him, watching the way his jaw tightened just a fraction as he processed that.

“We should check if anyone’s still here,” you added after a beat, pushing yourself off the desk just slightly. “This is where we were supposed to start, right? First day.”

There was something faintly bitter about the way the words landed.

Leon nodded quickly, almost reflexively. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

His attention shifted toward the gate leading to the est side of the station, shoulders squaring just a bit in instinctive readiness.

He stepped closer, eyes scanning the mechanism and you followed more slowly, arms dropping from your chest as you approached.

His fingers hovering near the big red button there and, when he pressed it, the mechanism groaned to life with a grinding sound that echoed down the hallway beyond.

The gate began to lift, slow and uneven, metal scraping faintly as it rose just enough to create a narrow gap before it abruptly stopped.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Irritation in your tone flaring sharper than you expected.

Leon lowered himself down onto the floor without hesitation despite the dark smears that streaked across the tiles, metallic and stale smell hitting faintly.

He didn’t seem to care, or maybe he was just better at pushing it aside.

Lying flat, he angled his body toward the gap, one arm stretching forward as he clicked on his flashlight, the beam cutting into the darkness beyond.

You should have been focused on that but, instead, your gaze betrayed you as it dropped and lingered.

The vest hugged his back and stretched over defined lines of broad but not bulky shoulders.

Leon shifted, then quickly pulled himself back from the gap, pushing up onto one knee.

“I’m gonna check it out,” he said, lowering the flashlight slightly as he looked up at you. “There might be people down there.”

“What?” The response came out sharper than intended as you dropped down to one knee yourself, instinct kicking in. “No—no, I’m coming with you.”

Angling yourself toward the opening, ready to follow him through the narrow space despite the mess and smell. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

For a split second, surprise flickered across his face along something softer underneath it that made his eyes warm.

He reached out before you could move further, his hand settling on your shoulder.

It wasn’t rough or forceful, warm even through the layers of fabric.

“Hey,” he said, voice dropping just a little, gentler, like he was trying to ease you rather than argue. His thumb shifted slightly where it rested, the corners of his mouth lifted to form a small.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he continued, his tone carrying that quiet confidence that made it hard to argue, even when you wanted to. “You stay here, alright? If anyone comes in, they’re gonna need someone to help them.”

His hand squeezed your shoulder lightly before he pulled back.

And you hated how easily that look in his eyes unraveled your resolve.

So you nodded and watched him disappear through the narrow opening.

Time stretched as you tried to convince yourself that he’d be back any second.

It felt like hours had passed of barely shifting your weight, pacing a short line near the table to somehow make time move faster.

“Idiot,” you muttered under your breath, though whether it was directed at him or yourself wasn’t entirely clear.

Probably both.

Scrubbing a hand over your face, exhaling sharply as frustration coiled tighter in your chest.

All because, when he looked at you in that soft and earnest look, it felt… too good.

He wanted to protect you because you mattered to him.

That was the closest thing you were ever going to get, wasn’t it?

A hand on your shoulder, a promise he might not even be able to keep.

You bit the inside of your cheek, the sharp sting grounding just enough to break the spiral.

Enough.

Waiting wasn’t doing anything.

If he wasn’t coming back, you needed to find out why.

Turning on your heel and moving toward the lobby’s computer system, fingers moving quickly over the controls as you pulled up the camera feeds. The screens flickered to life one by one, each showing a different part of the station as you cycled through them, faster and faster, scanning for any sign of him.

Faint gunshots echoed through the speakers from one of the west side cameras.

You had trained for this, graduated alongside him and gone through the same drills and expectations.

That bright and determined smile will not be the last thing you’ll see of him.

Turning toward the taped gate, your eyes caught a knife half-hidden near the base.

Crouching and picking it up carefully before using the blade to slide under the tape with a satisfying rip, sound loud in the quiet lobby as you worked through the layers, peeling them away one by one until the controls were finally exposed.

A large red button sat at the center and, once pressed, the mechanism groaned, gate lifting steadily and fully without stopping.

Standing there for a second as the opening widened before stepping forward.

The room you forced your way into was smaller than you expected, more of a cramped connector than a proper office.

Gun forward and flashlight aligned just beneath it as you advanced, beam cutting clean lines through the dimness, illuminating overturned chairs and a smear of something dark dragged across the floor, breathing staying controlled even as your pulse pressed harder against your throat.

At the far end, a door that you already knew where it led with the map you’d studied moments ago burned into your mind, that long hallway stretching across the west side.

Your hand reached for the handle slowly, fingers tightening just slightly before you turned it.

Rather than rapidly invading the room, you shifted to the side, pressing your back lightly against the wall as you pushed the door open to create a narrow angle, your head tilting so you could peek through first, minimizing your profile the way you’d been taught.

Two figures at the far end of the hallway, slumped awkwardly against the wall, head tilted at an unnatural angle, skin pale in the weak wash of moonlight spilling through a distant window.

Your breath caught at closer look on the other one.

Even in partial shadow and the distortion of low light, your heart recognized Leon immediately.

Pushing the door open wider and stepping in, feet quiet against the floor as you approached, closing the distance carefully until you were no more than ten feet away.

He was kneeling near the body of a cop, from the look of the uniform, sprawled across the tiles and as your boot made the faintest sound against the ground Leon moved insanely quick, surging up from his kneeling position in one fluid, coiled motion, pivoting sharply as his arm snapped up, handgun already aligned with your center mass while his flashlight flared directly into your face, blinding in its intensity.

“Don’t—!” The word cut sharp and rough, far more hardened than the voice you had heard in the lobby.

Everything about him was different, stance much tighter and efficient, the way he held the gun was fluid and practiced under pressure.

The jacket he had on hit you first.

A thick B-3 bomber, shearling lining spilling out at the collar in pale, dense curls that brushed against his neck.

Scuffs marked the surface, subtle creases worn into the leather.

Beneath it, his frame was… bigger.

Not just lean like you had always seen him, but built. Arms filling the sleeves, faint strain across his chest when he shifted his aim.

His hair was slightly longer, falling just enough to frame his face differently.

But his eyes were still blue and unmistakably his, cold at first.

Recognition morphed his features as tension in his shoulders faltered and his gaze locked onto your face.

His gun lowered, flashlight dipping with it, no longer blinding you but instead casting a softer glow that revealed his expression fully now.

Not just recognition swarmed his face, something warmer as well came in that settled low in your chest.

“You’re here too, Babe?” He said, voice rougher than anything you’d ever heard from him before.

Heat flooded your face instantly, sudden and overwhelming, brain stumbling over itself trying to process that along with everything else.

“What?” Your eyes narrowed despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “Leon, what are you talking about? We came in here together.”

That only made his confusion deepen, brows pulling together, gaze flicking around the hallway as his jaw tightened, like every inch of this place held memories you couldn’t see but he could feel pressing in on him.

Your gaze broke from his haunted one, dragging instead toward the cop with his jaw completely torn on the side and hanging awkwardly, his head lolled back against the wall.

“Did you see who—” You swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down but stopped talking after seeing Leon’s attention fixed upward, body tense again in focused attention.

There were a jagged hole in the ceiling before something too large and wrong, tipped with elongated claw-like fingers, erupted from it.

An inhuman shriek split the air, vibrating through your bones as the thing pulled itself into view.

Its body was flayed, muscle exposed in slick, glistening strands that stretched and contracted as it moved, skin entirely absent as if peeled away to reveal the anatomy beneath. Its head was made of an exposed brain that pulsed faintly, vulnerable and yet somehow more horrifying for it.

A long tongue snaked outside of his mouth as it crawled forward with unnatural speed.

Leon’s large and gloved hand found yours.

“Yeah,” he muttered, already pulling you with him, pace immediate and urgent as he dragged you down the hallway. “Because one nightmare wasn’t enough.”

His tone was dry, edged with a sharp sarcastic bite that felt completely out of place.

You stumbled slightly trying to keep up, grip tightening on your gun as your feet scrambled to match his speed, the world blurring at the edges as adrenaline surged and from behind that tongue lashed out.

A violent tug came at your back as it latched onto your uniform, fabric stretching and tearing as the force yanked hard, ripping away fully your gears and layers beneath, the sudden exposure sending a sharp chill across your skin as the creature lost its grip just as quickly.

Leon didn’t let you go until he hit hard two doors, bursting through with brute force as they slammed open and dragging you inside with him in one continuous motion.

Soon after he pulled you in his arms, back colliding with his chest in a solid impact.

The thickness of his chest pressed against you through the layers acting like a pillow, pecs firm and broad, rising and falling with controlled breaths that you could feel against your back. Beneath that, even through the tight shirt, there was no mistaking the defined strength of his torso.

This was not the same Leon you’ve known for many years, not even close.

His arm wrapped around your chest, bicep thick and swelling as they locked you in place against him as his other hand raised the gun again, aiming past you toward the doorway just as the creature dropped down.

One shot and the bullet precisely struck its exposed brain with a wet impact, the shriek it let out was high-pitched and furious before it skittered back, retreating with unnatural speed.

Leon moved fast, pulling away just long enough to slam the doors shut, grabbing a chair and jamming it under the handle as guttural groans from zombies echoed from the other side.

Heavy banging followed relentlessly.

Adrenaline faded away and your legs crashed all at once, dropping you to the ground as the reality of everything hit in a dizzying wave.

Before you could fully process it he was there, kneeling in front of you.

“Hey…hey,” his hand came up to cradle your cheek, large and warm, thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a way that felt impossibly gentle and intimate. “Babe, look at me.”

“What year is it?” he asked.

The question, like everything else happening, hit wrong.

“1998,” you answered, confusion twisting tighter as the pounding on the door grew louder. “Why are you asking me that?”

Something shifted in his eyes in understanding.

Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket quickly and draped it around your shoulders, pulling it snug around you with careful hands, fingers brushing against your arms as he adjusted it.

It was warm and soft on the inside, shearling lining cushioning against your skin, scent of leather and his wrapped all around your frame.

“There we go,” his lips quivered slightly as he muttered, almost to himself. “You always like to take it from me. Still cute.”

The chair behind him shifted as it toppled over once the doors burst open, two figures stumbling in, decayed and groaning.

Leon moved instantly up on his feet, gun raised and the first shot snapped clean through one of their skulls, impact jerking its head back as it staggered.

He didn’t wait, closing the distance in a flash, knife in hand, so similar to yours it made your breath hitch, and drove it into the creature’s neck with brutal precision before pivoting sharply.

His leg came up in a powerful roundhouse kick that connected solidly with the second zombie’s head, force snapping it sideways as it collapsed.

“Go,” he said, voice sharp and commanding without even looking back at you when he spoke. “I’ll catch up.”

Reluctantly you followed his command and the door on the other side gave way under your hand with a reluctant creak, hinges whining low and the moment the gap widened enough for your body to slip through, the air changed.

Another hallway narrower than the last. Two doors sat on either side, one to your right the other on the left, both shut tight, undead police officers lurked further down the corridor.

Three or maybe four of them. One brushed against the wall with a dull thud, leaving behind a smear that caught the weak light while another let out a wet groan that echoed enough to make the space feel smaller.

Your heart hammered so hard it felt like it might give you away on its own, each pulse loud in your ears, drowning out everything else for a second as your mind raced.

Fingers tightening around your handgun, familiar weight grounding you enough to push past the spike of panic clawing up your spine.

You lifted the weapon slowly, arms steady despite the tremor trying to creep in, lining up your shot on the nearest one.

One trigger and the muzzle flashed in a brief burst of red-orange light for a split second before the bullet hit clean, tearing through rotted flesh and bone.

Zombie’s head burst open as the body collapsed instantly, crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap that twitched once before going still.

A high and piercing screech followed down the hallway, claws scraping fast on concrete until the Licker came into view above like some grotesque parody of a spider.

Its brain pulsed, fully exposed, shifting slightly with each tilt of its head to listen and figure out where the noise came from.

Engaging that thing with the amount of ammo you had left was suicide.

So you moved slowly with agonizing care, boots barely whispering against the floor as you edged along the hallway, gun still raised but your finger easing off the trigger.

A low, clicking sound left its throat, tongue twitching faintly between rows of jagged teeth, tasting the air and searching.

Almost there at the other side of the hallway, a sudden bang on the window shattered everything.

Your head snapped toward the source instinctively, eyes widening as you caught glass exploding inward as a zombie forced its way through, collapsing into the hallway in a mess of limbs and broken shards, a guttural groan tearing from its throat as it dragged itself forward.

Above you the Licker froze, its entire body snapped toward the noise with terrifying speed, attention locking instantly onto the new arrival and moved fast.

It dropped from the ceiling and landed directly onto the zombie with a crushing impact, claws sinking deep as it let out a shriek, claws ripping through decayed flesh.

It was right in front of you blocking your path completely.

Behind a groan came and you turned sharply just in time to see another zombie lunge forward, arms outstretched as, in turn, it grabbed the Licker’s attention.

This was it, your grip tightened on your gun, breath catching as you braced for impact.

Something moved fast from behind the zombie, soon followed by a wet, slicing noise from an hatchet that pierced the back of the zombie’s skull, bursting through bone and rotten flesh in a spray of viscous blood as the creature’s body jerked violently, head tilting upward in a final motion.

For a second all you saw was the hand wrapped tight around the metal handle, veins faintly visible beneath the skin, grip steady and controlled.

Then he stepped forward fully into view and twisted in a brutal 180-degree turn of the wrist along the blade that followed, head coming off clean and body dropping in a useless heap as the hatchet came free.

Behind you, the Licker snarled, dragging your attention back and instincts screaming as your gun came up again, finger tightening on the trigger but he moved first.

Stepping in front of you and for a moment all you could see was a broad and solid back that filled your vision, a tight black shirt clinging to him and stretched across wide shoulders.

They rolled slightly as he adjusted his stance, the motion slow and controlled that made the muscles beneath that shirt ripple.

The Licker’s tongue attacked fast as a whip but he reacted faster, hatchet intercepting the strike mid-air and not only pairing it, but fully slicing the tongue.

It hit the ground writhing, twitching violently like a snake and the creature let out a shriek of pure agony, stumbling back as both of its clawed hands came up toward its ruined mouth, movements almost human in their panic.

“Follow me.” His voice, just like the last figure you met, felt familiar in a way that hit somewhere deep in your chest, even if your mind couldn’t place it yet with how much rougher it was.

He moved forward, closing the distance in two quick strides before driving his boot up straight into the exposed brain.

The impact was brutal, forcing the creature on the ground for him to bury the hatchet deep, infected blood spilling out around it in heavy, dark rivulets before he ripped it free in one clean motion.

“Move.”

Up the stairs, your legs barely keeping pace with him as he led the way without hesitation like he knew every inch of this place.

The upper floor opened into another corridor, steam already hissing somewhere ahead, thick clouds spilling out and blocking the path entirely except, he didn’t stop, swinging the hatchet against metal that gave way under repeated strikes, damaged pipe bursting further as the pressure shifted, steam redirecting, clearing just enough space for him to push through.

You hesitated just for a second before a gurgle from a zombie cut through the air that gave reasons to your legs to move past the showers and around the corner just in time to see him drive a punch into a zombie’s spine, forcing it down before that hatchet came down again, ending it with the same efficiency.

He checked behind him again rapidly still not seeing your face with how dark the hallway was.

The door at the end opened into a small room with bright light and the statue of a gazelle right at the center.

His gaze lingered on it, something unreadable passing through his expression before he turned to the creaking of the door.

“You the only survivor in h—” The question came out low and rough before he stopped, pupils tightening before widening again.

“…No,” he exhales under his breath, barely audible. His grip tightens slightly around the hatchet.

The same reaction erupted on your face as well at seeing Leon again, though much older. His face carried lines that hadn’t been there before, jaw stronger and scruffy with the stubble that decorated it. Same hairstyle but slightly longer, falling just enough to frame eyes that were duller now.

And his body was bigger by the look of that dark shirt stretched across his chest, arms thicker, veins faintly visible beneath skin.

Aged like fine wine didn’t even begin to cover it.

“…Alright,” he breathed, more composed now, though the roughness hasn’t left his voice. “Either I finally lost it or something’s seriously wrong.”

His eyes flick briefly around the room before turning and walking outside straight into the library, waiting for this nightmare to end immediately.

What else could you do beside following him?

The vast space had shelves towering high the more you got closer to them, filled with books and an atmosphere that seemed almost normal despite the hell outside.

Of which you got immediately reminded of when something cold and rotten grabbed your leg.

A corpse on the floor jerked to life, fingers tightening that didn’t get far as Leon’s (?) foot came down hard, crushing the skull as his weight pressed into it fully, thick muscles of his thigh flexing with the motion, muscle tightening under the fabric as he applied more pressure, grinding the remains into the floor before pulling back, wiping his shoe clean in one smooth motion.

“You really haven’t changed,” he said, a hint of dry amusement threading through his voice now. “Still walking into trouble, sweetheart.”

Heat flared up your neck instantly.

“What do you—”

From behind him there was movement done stealthily so well you’ve only now registered it, knife already raised and angled for a clean slice across the throat.

The older Leon in front of you didn’t needed a warning, arm suddenly wrapping and tightening around your waist as that large bicep locked in and dragged you alongside him, body pulled flush against his side as he pivoted sharply out of the attack’s path.

The knife cut through empty air where his neck had been a fraction of a second earlier before charging again and his hatchet came up, both hands bracing it for control.

Metal met metal with a biting clang fore his leg snapped forward to send a brutal kick to the attacker’s chest, forceful enough to send the man flying back into a stack of old books that collapsed under him in a cascade of dust and paper, sound loud in the enclosed space followed by a grunt.

Your eyes snapped to the Leon who gave you his jacket as he recovered with frightening speed, already pushing himself up and reaching for his weapon, bicep viewable from the short sleeved compression shirt he had on bulging in the process.

“Back off,” he said, voice tight and restrained. “Leave him alone. Now.”

A protective tone that hit harder than the gun pointed forward.

Another sound of a safety disengaging followed and all three heads in the room turned towards it.

Your Leon, one you had walked into this nightmare with, with his Matilda raised in both hands, stance just a little too stiff and textbook compared to the others, but his aim didn’t waver as he pointed it at both of them.

“D-don’t move!” he ordered in a firm voice, blue eyes not scanning tactically but locked specifically on the hand at your waist, gaze lingering there a second too long, jaw tightening just slightly, fingers adjusting on the grip of his gun like he needed something to ground himself before his eyes flicked back up.

“Let him go,” he added, quieter but more pointed.

The arm around you tightened as he pulled you back against him by a fraction, spine brushing his solid chest.

“M’not keeping him hostage,” he said dryly, tone edged with something almost amused, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “‘Sides… M’not the one waving a gun around.”

Your Leon’s grip flexed as a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes and you shouted his name the moment you saw the movement near him from the one now jacketless who closed the distance in a blur, his hand snapping up to knock the gun off its aim.

A shot rang out loud, slamming somewhere into the shelves above as the weapon was forced upward and, in the same motion, he disarmed him completely, twisting the gun free before shoving him hard to the ground.

“Shit—!” You broke free without thinking to rush forward and drop to your knees beside him.

“Leon are you okay?!” Up close he looked worse than when you left him, dirt smeared across his uniform, streaks of grime and something darker along his sleeves, hair slightly disheveled and breathing heavier.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, voice tight with concern, scanning you quickly. “Did they—did they hurt you?”

“Why would I hurt my boyfriend?” A low, almost amused voice cut in, dry in disbelief while the figure extracted the magazine of the Matilda.

“What?” The man right next to you snapped, pushing himself up quickly, anger bleeding into his tone as he turned toward the speaker.

“What the hell are you talking about—” Arm moving before he seemed to think about it and wrapping around your waist to pull you back toward him, firm enough that you felt the way his bicep tightened against your side, holding you close.

The other Leon juggling a knife in hand tilted his head slightly, watching him with an expression that bordered on entertained while the hatchet-wielder leaned casually against a desk, dragging a sharpening stone along its edge in strokes that sent small sparks of orange flickering in the dim light.

“Relax,” he muttered, voice carrying that same rough, worn edge, though there was something almost nostalgic in it now. “You’ll get there.”

The younger one’s grip on you tightened slightly.

“Get where?” he shot back.

The man with the hatchet didn’t look up immediately, continuing the motion, metal against stone, the rhythm steady.

“Still before the train, huh,” the other Leon in a tight compression shirt and knife in hand said, almost to himself, though it was loud enough for all of you to hear. “Our first time together.”

Words loaded with meaning as he looked at you almost dreamily and it made heat spike through your chest.

The older one just huffed quietly, finally glancing up with something knowing in his expression.

“Yeah,” he added, almost fondly, as another spark jumped from the blade. “I remember that.”

Heat, heavy and dizzying, crawled under your skin under those six blue eyes, each a different shade but all carrying hunger locked onto you.

The much older one had pushed you on top of the first desk available with a quiet grunt, hatchet set aside without a second thought as his attention settled fully on you.

“Still got that same look… every time.” He murmured, voice a gruff baritone while his gaze dragged and took in every detail

Everything happened too fast.

The one near your age had his grip on your waist now, tightening like he was grounding himself before he let instinct take over. His fingers slid under the edge of that jacket still draped over your frame currently displayed on the desk for the three men around, brushing your now bare skin in a way that was almost shy and hesitant compared to the others.

A gloved hand caught your chin, tilting and forcing your gaze to meet his forward. His thumb dragged slowly across your bottom lip, pressing enough to part it as his eyes darkened with amused.

“Didn’t think you’d look this good in my jacket even now,” he murmured, voice dipping lower, teasing, that familiar edge of cocky charm sharpened into something far more dangerous.

The same culprit who took pleasure at slicing away the remaining of your clothes with his precise experience with that knife.

Your stomach flipped at the sensation of blunt and wide fingers pressing in with a knowing confidence that made your breath stutter, his chest brushing your back as he leaned in enough for his stubble to graze your neck.

“Easy,” he muttered against your skin, lips ghosting over the spot right below your ear before his teeth caught lightly in a teasing bite. “We’ve got time… gonna make sure you can take it.”

Slowly, one thick finger invaded your hole and the stretch came immediate, his other hand coming around your front to wrap around your now exposed cock at the same time.

Body jolting as his grip tightened, thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the first slick hint of precome just his finger curled inside you, realizing how he knew exactly where to press.

“Still this tight,” he hummed, voice coarse with approval, breath hot against your neck as his pace stayed slow but purposeful.

Your head fell forward as all your muscles relaxed to get through this and that was all the invitation the other two needed.

Knife-welding-Leon took the moment your mouth gasped in need of more oxygen and claimed it hard, lips crashing into yours with confidence that stole the remaining supplies of oxygen right out of your lungs, tongue pushing past instantly, claiming space and exploring deep with a low groan that vibrated straight inside your mouth.

Hand staying on your face and holding you in place as his tongue fought against yours, going deeper and more insistent to savor everything.

Behind that another thick intrusion came together the already existing one, thick fingers scissoring slowly, stretching you with patience and devoted work.

His thumb pressed harder against your cock now, stroking in a steady rhythm that matched the curl of his fingers inside.

Your body didn’t know where to focus as pleasure sparked everywhere, overlapped and built from each touch feeding into the next until it felt like your nerves were short-circuiting.

“Christ…” the Leon assaulting your mouth muttered against your mouth, pulling back just enough for his lips to drag down your jaw, teeth grazing your skin.

Your Leon was observing you like you were something fragile and fascinating all at once, hands moving slower than the others at first, careful and exploring on unknown territory unlike his other two counterparts.

They slid up your sides, fingertips brushing over your abdomen, lips following his hands, pressing hesitant kisses along your stomach, each one lingering just a second longer than the last.

Your hips twitched, body leaning into him without thinking and it that was all it took as a shift in his expression came in focus and determination.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered before his mouth moved lower, kissing down your abdomen when a hiss passed through clenched teeth the moment a third finger pushed in.

The sound got swallowed instantly as RE4 Leon pulled you back into another kiss, deeper and rougher, tongue shaking against yours as his hand slid down to your waist, gripping tighter.

Older Leon groaned low at the sound you made.

“Yeah… That’s what I wanted to hear.” He muttered, pace picking up just slightly, fingers driving deeper, curling harder and hitting your prostate again and again until your legs trembled from the assault on that bundle of nerves.

“Gonna take all of us like this?” he added, stubble scratching along your neck as he spoke, lips brushing over the marks already forming there. “Lookin’ this pretty…all worked up already…”

Their presence surrounding you completely, every direction you moved there was one of them as hard things brushed against you, insistingly reminding you constantly of what was coming next.

Leon forward you ground against your hip subtly, breath hitching into your mouth as he deepened the kiss again, tongue sliding slower now, thick tent in his pants stabbing you with more effects than a knife ever could.

Behind you, older Leon’s arousal pressed heavy against your lower back every time his fingers pushed deeper, control slipping enough to let you feel how much he wanted this.

And your Leon shifted closer, his bulge pressing against your side as his lips finally dipped lower, right below your navel.

Warmth spreads through you instantly.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured softly, even as his hands slid up to your chest, fingers brushing over your nipples experimentally before pressing, rolling them between his fingers.

You gasped again and he froze for just a second before his expression shifted into something quietly thrilled.

“Okay… you like that.” He whispered almost breathless before doing it again, more confidently this time.

“‘Course he does,” older Leon behind muttered, a smirk in his voice as his fingers pumped deeper, faster now, thumb still stroking your cock in sync. “Been paying attention, rookie?”

The loss of those fingers working you open made you whine.

“Yeah… you’re ready,” hatchet-wielding-Leon muttered, his hand coming down to pat your ass.

The loud sound of zippers followed and you shivered in anticipation, immense pressure from a clothed bulge pressing against your gaping hole.

“Don’t tense up,” he added, voice softer now—but no less intense. “Or I’ll have to take my time breakin’ you in myself.”

The one in front of you leaned in, hand sliding over your shoulder, squeezing once.

“Nah, he doesn’t want your old ass,” he murmured close to your lips, voice confident and teasing as his hand moved to your face again, softer now, thumb brushing your lip as he held your gaze.

“C’mon,” he whispered, voice taking a husky edge to it. “Tell ’em you want me first.”

Body moving with importance to the heart as you shifted and presented yourself fully to your Leon before drifting back to the surprise but aroused slightly older version.

A satisfied smile spread across his lips as his hand cradled your face and guided you down until your lips hovered just in front of that big bulge.

“Keep me busy while I wait my turn,” he added, voice low, amused, thumb pressing gently against your lip again. “Yeah?”

One moment you were trembling, stretched open and aching, every nerve lit up from the way older Leon had worked you apart, the next a different pressure followed.

He didn’t push in all at once, especially now, there was carefulness in him always present when it came to you. His hands found your hips first, fingers spreading wide, gripping just enough to steady you as he lined himself up behind.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He murmured, voice lower than you’d ever heard it, roughened by want but still threaded with that unmistakable sincerity.

He started to push in and God, the first inch alone stole the air from your lungs.

A gasp tore out of you, sharp and helpless, your body instinctively tightening around him as the blunt head of his cock pressed inside, stretching in a way that felt entirely different from the fingers that had prepared you.

He eased forward inch by inch, length sliding deeper into you with a steady, controlled pressure that made your entire body tremble around him as that solid weight filled and warned you up gradually.

“God…” he breathed, the word barely there, head dipping forward slightly, forehead almost brushing your shoulder as he focused on the feeling. “You feel really good..”

Another inch and your back arched as a broken sound left your throat.

It was overwhelming in the best possible way, body struggling to adjust as he sank deeper until he bottomed out.

A small pull back followed by a push forward again.

And that was worse, body reacting instantly, a sharp gasp tearing from your mouth as the movement dragged along every sensitive nerve inside.

The Leon in front of you was watching but waiting as well and, once you did remembered the other presence who you were now entirely sure was the same man currently balls deep inside, your trembling hands moved, reaching for the front of his jacket, then lower, finding the last barrier between you and what you’d been staring at this entire time.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice low and amused as his hand came up to cradle your cheek. “Been thinkin’ about it this whole time, haven’t you?”

Your fingers fumbled slightly with the fabric before finding purchase and pulled.

Fuck, he was hung.

Thick and heavy cock springing free, already flushed and leaking, head glistening under the light.

“Like what you see?” he asked, smirk tugging at his lips.

A question your mouth answered, leaning forward, closing the distance, lips parting as you took him in, tongue dragging along the underside as you guided him deeper, lips stretching around him until you sank down fully, nose brushing his skin as your throat adjusted around his length.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his hand instantly coming to the back of your head. “There it is…”

You swallowed around him and that broke him in a way. “Yeah…yeah, just like that,” he muttered, voice rough and strained, his hips twitching forward instinctively before he caught himself. “You’re—shit—you’re still perfect at this.”

Behind your Leon groaned at the sight of your throat bulging around his older counterpart’s member, hands tightening on your hips again as his thrusts deepened.

Each push drove him fully into you, length dragging along your walls in a steady rhythm that made your body jolt forward and take more of the cock in your mouth without meaning to.

The connection clicked.

Every thrust from behind pushed you forward onto Leon, mouth forced to take him deeper, throat tightening reflexively around him as his grip in your hair tightened slightly in response.

“Fuck—” he groaned, watching you closely now, his breathing uneven. “Taking both of us like that… you trying to kill me?”

His hands slid up your body, one of them coming to your chest, fingers brushing over your skin in a soft, grounding motion as he watched you carefully.

“Is this okay?” The one behind you asked, voice strained but still so gentle, even now. “You’re— you’re not—”

You moaned around the cock in your mouth.

That was your answer.

“…okay,” he breathed, confidence shifting in his tone, maybe, or just the realization that you wanted this as much as he did.

His thrusts picked up, each one rolling his hips forward just right, dragging against your prostate repeatedly until your legs trembled harder, grip on the table tightening.

In front of you, Leon lost the last bit of restraint.

“Yeah… Take it just like that!” His hips started to move too, meeting your mouth halfway, cock sliding in and out between your lips in sync with the way you were being fucked from behind.

Your Leon leaned closer, chest pressing against your back as his hot breath came against your shoulder.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, almost like he couldn’t believe it, his voice breaking slightly as his pace faltered—then surged again. “I can’t—I can’t stop…”

In front—

“Don’t,” RE4 Leon shot back instantly, a breathless laugh mixing into his voice. “Trust me, he doesn’t want you to.”

Your body proved it as every thrust pulled another sound from you, cock twitching in overstimulation, but not forgotten as a hand wrapped around it suddenly.

“Don’t think I’m sittin’ this out,” he muttered against your ear, voice low and dangerous as his grip tightened just enough to make your hips jerk. “Go on… let go.”

Everything hit at once as a broken sound vibrated around the cock in your throat as you came hard, cock pulsing in his hand as release spilled over your stomach in hot bursts.

The sensation of your throat tightening pushing the one clogging your throat over the edge right after, grip tightening in your hair as he thrust deep one last time, spilling his load into your mouth with a low, strained sound.

Behind your Leon followed, a choked gasp leaving him as he buried himself fully inside you, hips pressing flush against yours as he came, warmth flooding deep inside.

Your body felt like it had been wrung out and put back together wrong, every nerve still buzzing, muscle weak, breath only just beginning to steady as the world slowly stopped spinning around you.

Yet, you were still painfully hard as a quiet, shaky breath left you, hand lifting to find its way to broad, familiar shoulders next to you, firm enough to communicate what your body couldn’t say out loud right away.

A low, knowing huff left him.

“Yeah… figured,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough but edged with that dry humor that never quite left him.

He shifted easily under your touch, turning and sitting back against the table in one smooth motion as you climbed into his lap, body sinking down onto his thick thighs, the heat of him immediately seeping into your skin.

Solid muscle beneath really told you how big he was, legs falling to either side of his hips and his huge tent nudged against your ass, heavy and insistent, blunt heat of it dragging slightly against your oversensitive skin.

A deep groan rumbled out of him instantly and you leaned closer once recovering, voice almost vulnerable.

“Did we… stay together for all those years?”

His grip on your hips loosened slightly, one hand lifting, fingers flexing like he was debating something before deciding and pulling his glove off, holding his hand up just enough for you to see a ring.

“…yeah,” he muttered, glancing at it briefly before his gaze flicked back up to you, a small, crooked smirk pulling at his lips. “Guess I was dumb enough to put up with you every day of my life.”

Sarcasm dry and familiar buy those duller blue eyes softened completely when he saw the happiness on your face that bloomed there before you could even try to hide it.

That was all you needed, leaning in to kiss him, stubble scratching against your jaw rough.

Then his hands tightened on your hips again and he moved you up enough to line himself.

“C’mon,” he muttered against your lips, breath warm, voice dipping lower. “You know the drill.”

He guided you down slowly, body tensing instinctively as the head of his cock pressed against your already slick and stretched opening.

The remnants of the others still coating you, making the slide smoother and easier.

Your mouth fell open as you sank down inch by inch, your hands tightening on his shoulders as your body adjusted again to his size.

“Fuck…” he grunted low, head dropping forward slightly, grip firm but controlled as he guided you.

He bottomed out and felt him pressed deep inside, so far in it almost felt like he was in your stomach, his heartbeat faint but real where your bodies connected.

Whimpering softly and he exhaled sharply at the sound.

“Always take me so good like you were made for it,” he muttered, voice roughening further, hands sliding slightly along your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin as you started to ride him.

Slow and weak at first, legs trembling as you lifted yourself just barely before dropping back down, motion dragging his cock along your walls.

But you didn’t have the strength.

“Easy,” he murmured, large biceps wrapping around your frame to pull you closer, chest pressed against his as he took over.

His thighs tensed beneath you, hands guiding your hips as he started moving you himself, lifting you up, then pulling you back down.

Each movement angled just right, hips tilting slightly to meet you every time, cock brushing against your prostate over and over until your head fell into the crook of his neck, your breath breaking into soft, helpless moans.

His pace didn’t falter, only getting stronger, breathing growing heavier against your skin as he kept you exactly where he wanted, pace picking up.

All until another presence came between your legs.

The other Leon older than you stepped in close, sliding between your spread thighs as you sat in his older counterpart’s lap, cock already hard again as it nudged against your entrance.

Older Leon stilled you instantly, holding you down firmly on his cock as his other hand came up to steady your hip.

“Hold on,” he muttered, glancing down briefly before looking back up at him.

“Relax,” the one about to join shot back. “I know what I’m doing.”

He pushed in, slow and careful, body of yours stretching again, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as the second intrusion pressed inside alongside the first, walls straining and adjusting on both of them at once.

“Fuck—” you choked, your face pressing into older Leon’s jaw as your body trembled violently.

“Yeah… breathe,” older Leon murmured, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you close. “You can take it.”

In front Leon groaned low.

“God, you’re tight,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly worked himself deeper, inch by inch until he was fully seated as well. “Missed this…”

Your body felt impossibly full and overstimulated, every nerve screaming as they both started to move.

Behind them, your Leon stood still, watching in absolute horny surprise.

Your head turned slightly, voice breathy and wrecked as you called out.

“…Leon…”

He blinked like he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“…yeah,” he answered quietly, almost dazed as the other Leon reached back, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him closer.

“Don’t just stand there,” he muttered, amusement laced through his tone. “Make him pleased.”

Just like that he was pulled in closer.

A hand of RE4 Leon’s gripped your ass, spreading you slightly as a thick drip of cum slid down.

Then your body git stretched again by a third presence pressing in.

You cried out, body shaking violently as all three of them filled every inch of you.

They moved together than, hips snapping forward, pulling back, thrusting again as your body was used between them, lifted, held, moved exactly how they wanted.

Kisses pressed against your mouth and neck… teeth grazed your skin along with hands everywhere.

Your mind went blank completely, moans breaking apart into nothing but sound, body giving in completely as they took over, driving you higher and higher again despite how sensitive you already were.

Your body tensed violently as you came again, cock spilling across older Leon’s abs, entire body shaking uncontrollably as the sensation ripped through.

They followed one by one, groans and grunts echoing along bodies tensing, followed by an uncontainable amount of heat filling you.

So much your body struggled to contain it as they emptied themselves inside you, movements slowing but not stopping until every last bit was spent.

Finally stillness.

Your body collapsed against them.