walk free

He frames Leon’s head with his arm, propping himself up above him to properly look at him and commit every detail to memory, carve the very first moment of their joined future into his mind so he’d never forget the way Leon looks now: sleep tousled hair golden with sunlight, his body relaxed and expression unburdened, the gaze of his blue eyes communicating just how undeniably in love he is with him. It makes Sasha’s head spin to know this. But even though he thinks this moment carries something profound, he is not immune to the hint of guilt that rises in him at Leon’s remark, tinged with regret as his words are.

“I …could have chosen a better moment to lay it all out.” He concedes. His gaze flickers off to the side, but not for long, because he needs Leon to believe him when he adds: “But I don’t regret anything, not what I said and not what it led to.”

He moves his hand from Leon’s thigh to brush a few wild strands of hair from his forehead before pressing a kiss to it. Then, he cups Leon’s cheek, smiling when he sees him lean into it. “I know it won’t be easy, and I know we can’t be certain what the future holds for us, but I want to face it with you.”

He doesn't even really know why it keeps hitting him this hard. It's not like there haven't been other people that have said those words to him. Hell, right before Raccoon City happened he'd been pretty broken up about his then girlfriend leaving him exactly because he thought they'd loved each other. But comparing what he felt then to what he feels now is like comparing a pool to an ocean, not even close to the same depth, the same breadth, the same ferocity.

Maybe it's the circumstances which brought them together like this, the bond that had formed saving each other's lives that much stronger, but it just... feels different. Feels more.

And maybe part of why it's hitting him like this is because there is a part of him that hadn't thought he would ever get to have this kind of love, or joy, again. Not after the horrors of Raccoon.

But when Jill does arrive back at the Hideaway, all of his trepidation to face her slowly but surely melts away, to the point where he is waiting to greet her. The first sight of her, and the way she addresses him... A surge of emotion charges through him, lessening his instinctual withdraw at the innocent touch to his shoulder into a mere flinch.

In a likewise gesture, his hand, with the faintest trace of a tremble, reaches for Jill's shoulder. The former ruler lets it rest there for a few minutes as he breathes out a greeting of his own: "Dear girl..."

Another surge of emotion washes over him. Elwin kneels in front of her -- head bowed even as he spoke next. "My lady... Forgive me for having failed to protect you. Had I known what would happen that night at Phoenix Gate, ..."

She'd felt safe, in Rosaria, up until the sacking of Phoenix Gate and the subsequent horrors that had followed. Loved, too. For that she'd ever be grateful.

" Please, " She leans down, clasping his elbows to have him rise again. " If there is anyone that needs beg forgiveness for the events of that night, it is not you. " After all, Lord Elwin had paid his pound in blood; a fact the ugly mark at his throat speaks of loud and clear. " I never blamed you for what happened. "

He adjusts his hold on Leon, slowly reciprocating the soft contact as his mind and body slowly wake up to the reality he hasn’t dared to even dream about for the longest time.

They part and Sasha has to take a shaky breath to center himself, to ignore the quickly firming hardness between his legs. “Good morning.” He rasps as a small smile tugs at his lips. He raises a hand to cup Leon’s face, inspecting his expression as he makes sure that none of the shadows from last night remain.

“How did you sleep?” His words are still slurred, his voice rough with sleep as he struggles to form a coherent thought. But that doesn’t keep him from mirroring Leon’s smile. Sasha shifts his weight and ultimately turns unto his back when there is a slight ache in his back from remaining in the same position for the entire night. He doesn’t hesitate before he nudges Leon to fit himself closer to his side, easily putting an arm around him when he settles against him.

He runs a hand soothingly up and down Leon’s back when Leon tilts his head to rest it against his chest. Sasha buries his nose in his hair, breathing deeply. He presses a kiss to the top of his head before he rests his chin there. “No nightmares, I hope?” His voice doesn’t betray the hint of nervousness that slowly creeps in, but the slight uptick in his heart rate does. Memories from last night circle in his mind, the intensity of their actions leave him with a confusing bundle of arousal and worry that they had somehow gone too far.

His response to whether or not he had nightmare is nothing more than a low hum, the barest shift of his head as he signals a no. He'd been too tired, too fucked out to really dream at all, his body still feeling the results of it in various aches and stings from bruises left behind. Good aches, at least. The kind of soreness he very much enjoys feeling━ he'd almost forgotten how much he could enjoy that kind of physicality, his mind and memories too stuck on the horrors they'd been put through and the resulting aftermath.

And right now, it very much feels like his body is eager to make up for that lost time, his arousal deepening, spreading throughout his veins with each shift of Sasha's thigh, each languid carress of a hand down the length of his spine.

Which is why he can't quite stop the noise of protest when that hand suddenly stops. His brow furrows, eyes blinking open. He lifts his head, looking for all intents and purposes like a disgruntled cat interrupted in its daily bask, though his expression softens the moment he sees that hint of nervousness in Sasha's eyes, reflected in his question. " No, " Leon doesn't even need to think about it. This isn't like the last time, their first time, where their actions in the motel had been fuelled by grief and desperation. " No regrets whatsoever. Right where I wanna be. " In Sasha's arms, enjoying the sensations of Sasha's growing arousal pressed against his skin, fuelling his own.

"Thinking of you wherever you are. We pray for our sorrows to end, and hope that our hearts will blend. Now I will step forward to realize this wish. And who knows: Starting a new journey may not be so hard or maybe it's already begun. There are many worlds, but they share the same sky. One sky, one destiny."

But it's been so long since anyone even so much as touched him there that there is nothing he can do but let himself be swept away by the sensation of Leon's mouth hot and wet and warm around his length. It doesn't keep his fingers from tightening further, and blank as his mind may be right now, the way he stops Leon on the next downward movement to coax him into going slower is still as much a symptom of his want as it is one of necessity.

Thankfully, Leon picks up on his discomfort and slows down despite the way Sasha can still sense the urgency in his actions, the movement of his hands, the look in his eyes.

"Fuck."

Sasha anchors one hand at the base of Leon's neck when he sees the need in those blue eyes he's come to adore over the course of mere weeks. The other hand moves to brush Leon's bangs out of his face in a surprisingly gentle manner before need wins out and he curls his fingers into the dark strands once more to guide him down and then back up again.

For a long while Sasha can't tear his gaze away from the way Leon's mouth stretches around him, nor the way his eyes grow half lidded when Sasha applies more pressure and keeps the pace slow and steady, never quite relinquishing control again just yet, his heart rate climbing with every movement of Leon's tongue and lips along his length.

It goes on for a while like this and Sasha can see the exact moment that Leon simply lets himself get lost in the sensations, the rhythm, the feel of him in the same way Sasha does. He can feel the sweet ache of orgasm come on far quicker than he'd like when he realizes this, swears he can feel the want echo between them, too, wishes he could taste Leon in the same way. This last thought has him shudder with want and anticipation, but it would have to wait. Not long, if the way his stomach begins to flex and his length grows ever harder is any indication.

He moans on the next downward movement, his hand falling from Leon's hair to cup his cheek just as he feels his length give a slight twitch as it releases more precum unto Leon's tongue. He's close. So close. So he stops Leon for just a moment, fingers fanning out against the back of his neck, tugging him back far enough so Leon can take a gasping breath. Sasha is breathing heavily, too, feeling unsteady and wild with want in a way he hasn't felt in years.

What ultimately does him in, though, is not the way Leon's swollen lips part, nor the way his glassy gaze meets his own, but the way his head tilts into Sasha's palm before he leans in again to swallow him down, but not without Sasha's permission.

It's even better now because this is Sasha. Sasha's fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots as he urges Leon to slow down. Sasha's moans and whimpers filling his ears each time he does something right. Sasha looking down at him with that wild heat in his eyes, glassy and dark with pleasure, dazed like he can't believe this is really happening.

His lashes flutter, nostrils flaring as he moans around Sasha's length and he goes down easily when Sasha guides him to. It doesn't take him long to find a rhythm that works for both of them, slow and languid, indulgent and a little messy. It's not too often he finds a partner who lets him take his time and Leon's determined to give Sasha the best experience he's ever had with someone's mouth around his cock.

At some point he closes his eyes, luxuriating in the moment, in every sensation. His own arousal is prominent between his legs, the front of his pants wet with his precum, but he makes no move to touch himself. Instead, he presses a palm against Sasha's abdomen, delighting in the way he can feel the muscles twitch and flex in time with each desperate little jerk of his hips, while he moves the other from the base of Sasha's cock to squeeze his sack, angling his head on the next downward movement swallow around the head, once, twice, cheeks hollowing out and tongue dragging a hot path up the underside as he moves back up.

God, he could do this for hours.

Not possible, of course, by the way he feels Sasha harden on his tongue, the way the taste of him grows thicker with each movement of his lips. His lips blink open lazily when fingers pull him up and off, swollen lips parted around harsh, shuddering breaths. His cheeks feel flushed, his entire being attuned to nothing but what's right in front of him: Sasha looking at him filled with something akin to wonder, dark with want, his cock heavy and red and throbbing. There's no room for doubts in his mind, no thoughts beyond wanting to continue.

The sweet and gentle touch to his cheek feels nice, though. Leon's not used to that from his previous partners either; but then, none of them were Sasha.

Sasha's release takes him by surprise too, a choked off moan startling from his mouth as Sasha's release floods his tongue and spills past the corners of his lips before he can catch up. Both his hands circle Sasha's hips to keep him steady, another moan escaping when he finally manages to swallow around him, swallow him down, the taste thick and salty and bitter, his own body shuddering in pleasure as he takes in the almost pained bliss twisting Sasha's expression.

He works Sasha through it the best he can, keeps his pace up even when he feels Sasha starting to tremble with overstimulation and only pulls away when Sasha starts tugging on his hair again; his lips instead pressing soothing kisses to the quivering skin of his stomach, his trembling thighs as he gives Sasha's cock a last few lazy strokes.

He looks so fucking beautiful like this, he thinks. Caught in the afterthroes of orgasm, pupils blown wide with bliss, features slack with pleasure, lips slightly parted as he tries to catch his breath. It takes no thought at all to surge up, one knee planted next to Sasha's hip while his other foot remains on the floor, and catch Sasha's lips in a deep, messy kiss; allowing him to taste himself on Leon's tongue.

Sasha is not far off from that same weakness. His own legs feel unsteady as he maneuvers them out of the shower, mind still abuzz with everything that just happened. It’s a bit unsettling to see Leon completely out of it even a few more minutes after leaving the thick air of the hot shower behind. The mirror and bathroom window are fogged up with moisture. It’s warm in here even without the hot water from the shower, but before long the chill of their surroundings creeps into their bodies and Sasha moves to wrap Leon up in a towel. He begins to gently dry him off, only for Leon to start swaying forward and against his chest, his body losing all tension once again.

Sasha catches him on instinct, eyes wide and heartbeat skipping with worry when Leon loses consciousness right there in front of him. He pulls him up into his arms, towel slipping from Leon’s shoulders and to the floor, as Sasha hoists him up. Sasha’s own body and hair are still dripping water all over the floor, but that doesn’t keep him from holding Leon close.

“Leon?” His voice is quiet, but urgent. “Hey—” But when he gets a proper look at his face Sasha only finds Leon’s features slackened with sleep, devoid of discomfort, his lips slack with even breaths.

Today has taken a lot out of him, Sasha thinks with no small amount of guilt, knowing that he contributed to the things Leon was forced to process. But his own expression does still soften as he watches Leon sleep on right there in his arms. Sasha forces himself to move then, his own limbs grow heavier by the minute just holding Leon and if he stands around for much longer he risks both of them catching a cold.

Despite all this he still spares a moment to press a kiss into Leon’s hair. “Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers and promptly moves towards the bedroom— their bedroom. Officially now, although it’s been that way for just as long as they have lived here, despite neither of them fully admitting to it in as many words. But it is. This house his their home. It has been for quite some time and Sasha hopes that it will continue to be. Indefinitely so, if he gets his way.

But he’s getting ahead of himself.

He gently sets Leon down on the bed, smile widening when he sees his brows furrow and his nose wrinkle. Sasha pulls the blanket up to tuck him in, chuckling softly when Leon immediately shuffles deeper under the covers. Sasha kneels beside the bed for a moment, not minding the chill of his clammy skin and hair as much when distracted by his lover being adorable. He reaches out a hand to comb his fingers through Leon’s freshly washed hair, mindful to not tug too harshly.

“I really do love you.” Sasha whispers, fingers idly moving against Leon’s scalp. “Sleep well.” He brushes Leon’s bangs from his forehead and leans in to kiss it in parting.

“I’ll be right with you.” He promises and briefly returns to the bathroom to dry himself off fully and hang the towels up after. He catches his reflection in the mirror, lips curled upward into a smile. He’s happy. For the first time in a long while the future is something he is looking forward to and the reason for it is sleeping soundly in the other room. Sasha runs a hand over his face, his smile widens as giddiness bubbles up in his chest at the thought of being able to really be with Leon. He shakes his head at himself soon after, amused by his own behavior, his own eagerness to return to his lover, too, but he still makes his way back to the bedroom as quickly as possible and wastes no time lifting the covers to fit himself closely against Leon’s back, an arm slung around his middle, pulling him close.

Sasha’s own exhaustion drags him under just as fast as Leon’s did, and for once there are no disjunct dreams or horrid nightmares to startle him awake. He sleeps well, deep and dreamless, with his face buried in his lover’s hair and his nose filled with his familiar scent.

He's naked, he notices next. Naked, tucked beneath the covers of the bed he doesn't quite remember getting into, with someone's arm draped warm and heavy over his waist and another naked body snuggled up against him. A very well-endowed male body, by the evidence pressing against the small of his back.

What in the━

His brows furrow, his eyes blinking open slowly. His memories are foggy at first, clouded still by the first proper and dreamless sleep he's had in a long while, his body feeling surprisingly lethargic and comfortable despite the aches he feels; probably the only reason why he's not immediately alert and panicking at not remembering how he got here.

It isn't until he gently cranes his head and catches sight of the curve of a broad shoulder, the sharp edge of a strong jaw, full lips slack with sleep and messy, dark strands of hair that he recognizes immediately as belonging to Sasha that his mind sharpens enough to remember and━

Oh.

The kiss in the kitchen. Sasha's hands on his body. Sasha's cock on his tongue, the taste of him hot and thick in the throes of orgasm. Sasha's hand around his throat and on his cock as he brought him to that incredible high beneath the warm jet of the shower.

But also: Sasha's arms around him in a tight hug, whispered words of love in his ear. Sasha catching him before he falls, making him feel safe, comforted, seen. Sasha's smile, wondrous and joyous at Leon returning the sentiment.

His throat closes up again even as a rush of arousal stirs between his legs, his body not quite knowing what to settle on just yet. It's not the first time he's awoken with Sasha pressed to his back. Hell, not even the first time he's awoken after having sex with the man. It's the first time where he feels like it counts for something more, however; where he doesn't have to feel guilty or slightly embarrassed about his body's instictive reactions to sharing a bed with a man he's insanely attracted to and also in love with. The first time where he doesn't feel scared either that he's fucked something up by pushing too fast, too far like he did in the motel, because unlike then Sasha is still here.

With a slightly shaky exhale, Leon shifts again, suddenly feeling the need to turn around and look at him properly. A helpless smile curls his lips at the sleepy grumble of protest that nets him, his lashes fluttering when the tightening of Sasha's arm around his waist has them press together rather intimately; the involuntary jerk of his hips only sharpening those memories from yesterday before he wrests himself back under control and settles by angling his hips away just a little, his ankle hooked over one of Sasha's own.

God, he really is here. This is no dream. Those memories aren't just fabrications, they actually happened.

Leon swallows against the tightness in his throat, lips parting on another shaky exhale. The palm of his hand finds Sasha's jaw, his thumb gently carressing the swell of his cheekbone, the roughness of his stubble. His lips pinch in, that same helpless smile on his face as golden hues slowly blink open, a soft furrow appearing between Sasha's brow that Leon touches his thumb to gently to smooth it out.

" Good morning. " Leon's voice sounds raspy with sleep, the words low and intimate. He watches Sasha blink, watches those full lips part and thinks he would really like to kiss him.

Sasha's eyes widen at the statement, gaze wavering as he searches Leon's eyes for any hint of dishonesty, already knowing he won't find any by the spark in his eyes and the curve of his smile. A lot has happened since he last saw this sort of smile on Leon's face. Both of them are scarred by life, bent and broken by trauma, and yet somehow they're still here, against all odds, and by some unlikely twist of fate next to each other again.

And idiot or not, Sasha is not going to let this go again.

It takes everything he has to not simply drop his guard and display the very idiocy Leon just accused them of. They're in enemy territory, deep in the bowels of a city that may as well have been cursed by the devil himself, death lurking around every corner, and yet the only thing he can think about right now is how much he wants to put his lips on Leon's again.

However, he drops his head forward for a moment instead and lets out an exasperated sigh before he raises his gaze to pin Leon with a look that conveys very clearly just what he'd like to do right now. "How do you expect me to keep a clear head and not act like an idiot when you say things like this?" His tone carries an edge of annoyance, but the smile that follows is genuine.

He pushes past Leon then, newly determined to not let the giddiness those words instill in him get the better of him. He rolls his shoulders and firms his grip on his gun. "Let's finish this sweep." He says, setting his jaw when he can't keep himself from stealing another sidelong glance at Leon before pressing forward.

Thankfully, the area is devoid of life of any kind and when they step through a door at the very back of the corridor the lights flicker on to reveal exactly what Sasha had been hoping they would find down here. An armory. And while a good portion of the weaponry is missing from the cases laying strewn about the floor there appear to be quite a few shelves and lockers left untouched. They might actually find something of use here.

Sasha takes a deeper breath. Relief and a new sense of determination have his shoulders lose some tension. He glances back at the door one last time, watching it glide shut with some delay before he turns to Leon, who already holstered his weapon and is inspecting some nearby crates with a cursory glance before sauntering over to one of the weapon lockers that looks like it might hold heavier weaponry, at least if the heavy bars and the control panel in front of it are any indication.

Sasha follows him after holstering his own gun, and perhaps he stands a little closer than strictly necessary while Leon inspects the panel. "Brings back memories." Sasha says quietly, the scene itself not all that different from the armory upstairs in the R.P.D. where they had their first proper conversation after they first met. He leans in to look over Leon's shoulder at the control panel, the plastic keys yellowed with age, but Sasha barely has time to assess whether or not he could circumvent the codes needed to open any of these doors when Leon turns his head to look at him. They are standing a lot closer than Sasha previously realized and once again he finds himself trapped in bright blue eyes and this need to lean in even further and do something reckless.

And yeah, he sure as fuck hasn't forgotten the rush of tasting Sasha's lips again after over two decades of trying to forget, even if that kiss had been tinged in regret and desperation more than anything else. He certainly hasn't been able to forget how good they were together sexually, even when attempting to lose himself in other people: none ever really compared in that department either.

They are still on a mission, though. Disappointing or not, there is ample reason as to why they shouldn't lose their heads, even if the want is there. Just for how long that's going to last though, Leon really can't say at this juncture; not with how hyper-aware he suddenly feels of Sasha━ to the point where even the prospect of heavy-duty weaponry can distract him from heat of Sasha at his back when the other man comes to stand just a little too close to be coincidental, the carress of his breaths against Leon's cheek when he leans over Leon's shoulder to peer at the control panel that's keeping the lockers shut.

Brings back fucking memories, alright, but probably not the ones Sasha is alluding to.

Their eyes lock when Leon turns his head just slightly, his stomach lurching with that all too familiar swell of need when he feels that all too familiar pull between them, just as electric, just as magnetic as he remembers it to be. How easy it would be to lean in now, give in to that urge that's been dogging him since before they even managed to talk; back when they'd fought back to back against that first horde.

He'd touched Sasha in a different way then, knuckles still smarting slightly with the force of that punch, but he'd thought about kissing him then too. About doing a lot more than that, even, knowing how explosive that would've been. God, he still wants that. Wants to know what it would feel like again.

He blinks, clearing his throat sharply as his rational mind catches up with him, slight color rising to his cheek as he shifts out of the way with a go ahead gesture. " I'll, uh, see if there's anything else to be found while you play around with this, " he mutters, his own voice just as low and raspy as Sasha's, needing to put a little distance between them before he loses himself and asks Sasha to take him right here against the weapons lockers, in what were once the bowels of Umbrella's operations now infested with weirdly sentient plant-life.

Good to know that hasn't changed either in those two decades apart. He's still just as damn hungry for the man.

It disappears as quickly as it comes on. A sharp pain behind his eyes causes Barnabas' brows to pull together, his gaze sharpens and a more familiar volatility rises up, unexpected and overwhelming in its intensity, an irritation seeking an immediate outlet.

With a few quick strides he makes his way across the room. He sees the surprise within beautiful green eyes as his hand shoots out to grasp the young man's throat. He has him rise to his feet with ease, pushes him backwards until his back hits the wall beside the bed with a satisfying thud. The king intends to draw the Eikon back out into the open as indisputable proof; do away with the wavering demeanor of this man he allowed the grace of giving shelter to his sister even though he bears no use to him. The king's patience is not only wearing thin when faced with this insecurity, this denial, it is as if from one moment to the next it is erased from existence entirely, replaced by something cruel where sympathy sprouted only a moment ago.

His hand squeezes around a now fluttering pulse, tightens further, until the fear in those eyes gives way. He expects to see a flash of bright yellow in those eyes, a sign that the Eikon is taking over to protect this fledgling Dominant, but what he sees first is defiance in bright green, before the Eikon takes over and beneath the sudden anger from before Barnabas feels a more honest, near excited sense of awe at seeing it happen. Theodore is not one to cower.

Good.

"There is no mistaking this, Leviathan." He hisses, leaning in close to the young Dominant's face as he speaks, despite feeling the aether prickling between them, already anticipating a physical retaliation. When it comes, it's in the form of a fist to his jaw, harsh, sudden, like a crack of thunder and when pain blooms across his face the king's hold falters and he stumbles backward, missing the warmth beneath his palm the second the skin of Theodore's throat slips from beneath his fingertips.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, unable to remember the last time he felt pain this clearly, nor the last time anyone even dared to lay a hand on him. He smiles at the incredulous expression of Theodore's face. For a long moment the silence sits thick and heavy between them.

On the bed the woman stirs, and a small sound escapes her trembling lips that has Theodore turn his head, Leviathan's presence flickers and dims and Barnabas watches as the young man's attention entirely shifts back to his sister.

An icy rush of animal fear lances through his lungs and tightens his stomach and bladder involuntarily. His heartbeat thunders painfully loud within his ears, breath stuttering on a high-pitched little gasp that's cut off at the quick by the pressure on his larynx. It's too much, too quick, his mind still swimming with the implications of all he's wrought without any recourse to recover from its disorientated state.

It's instinct that takes over then, years of training and a natural defiance at being met with such aggression making him act ere he can even stop to remember who he's dealing with. In that instant, the man in front of him is not the King of Waloed, nor Odin━ but just another in a long line of blowhards that think violence is the best way to intimidate him or his sister into giving up their goods. He's dealt with more than enough of Kupka's bandits on the road to know where to hit so it hurts even without the advantage of a sword at his hip.

If the sudden surge of anger borne from the Eikon coiled within him adds an extra layer of force to the punch he plants into Odin's jaw, Theo sure as fuck isn't going to complain about it; the pressure leaving his throat as Tharmr staggers backwards is reward enough.

Except there's a pressure behind his startled eyes now, pounding at the back of his head and the anger isn't cooling the way it usually does whenever he's put in these kinds of situations; within him Leviathan hisses with a bitter malice that leaves a briney taste on his lips, his vision swimming before him, his blood rushing like the ever-growing waves of a tempest within. No, no, please, he thinks. Not here.

He wrests with it briefly, his shoulders still firmly pressed against the wall behind him to give him some sort of anchor; and eventually, 'pon hearing his sister stir on her bed, he manages to win out━ the heart of a worried brother pushing out the thirst for vengeance. He refuses to look at Tharmr when he looks at Eloise, reacting with nothing but a disbelieving curl of his lip at the King's parting words.

Only when the other man is gone does Theo come unstuck, staggering over towards Eloise's bedside to slump back into the chair he'd so unceremoniously been plucked from earlier. He reaches for her hand, clenches it tight in his own and wishes he knew what to fucking do now. What would he even say to his sister once she woke? Where would he even start? Him somehow being an Eikon, just a year shy of his thirtiest summer, a fact previously utterly unheard of? Or that him being an Eikon has caused the ruin of Boklad, of the Crimson Caravans, of everything they've managed to build since fleeing their parental home; almost caused him to drown the only person he still has left that loves him?

And would she still love him, once she knew?

This is your reality.

" Eikons help me, Eloise, I think I really messed up, " He manages no more than a shaky whisper as the confusion and despair in his chest wells, the full implication of the King's words finally finding true. His eyes burn, spill over with heavy tears he doesn't even bother to wipe away, not yet, as he presses the fist clung around his sister's hand to his forehead as if in supplication to a higher power he's never before believed in.

This is your reality now.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, just letting all of it rush over him. Eloise doesn't stir any further, doesn't give him any sign of waking and to be truthful Theo doesn't even mind it all that much if it means getting a little more time to figure out where to go from hear, what to say. Eventually it's the presence of a healer that rouses him from his position and his bleak thoughts, red-rimmed eyes blinking in sullen confusion at the intruder. She will need plenty more rest, the woman tells him in a soothing, though heavily accented voice, but she will recover in full.

" Thank you, " he rasps out, suddenly needing to be out from under the healer's scrutiny, not entirely sure about the look in her eyes and not feeling up to decipher it. " I... need some air. Will someone let me know if she wakes? "

He's not entirely sure he's even allowed to roam the halls of King Barnabas' castle, but Theo can't find it in himself to care about what the King wants or needs. He flees from the room before the healer can so much as raise a protest, lets his feet carry him forward in hopes of finding someway out, away from the dreariness of his surroundings made even drearier by the heaviness of his mind.

Eventually, he finds himself on some kind of overlook, a small balcony looking down at the steel-grey waters below. Within him Leviathan rumbles, a yearning not entirely his own settling within his heart as he ponders the waves.

When another presence joins him some indeterminate time later, Theo doesn't even need to turn around to know who it is. It's the prickle at the back of his neck, the hairs on his arms raising, the taste of Odin's power on the back of his tongue as his own Eikon tenses, wary, waiting.

Sasha shudders with want when Leon's fingers tighten, the friction the slight motion causes has him breathe in harshly, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He barely even hears Leon voice his concerns about Mikhail returning while they're in the thick of it, and it takes him several moments to process what Leon means before it clicks and he nods slowly. "R-Right. I'll— I'll text him. Let him know."

He doesn't move to do it immediately though, still too distracted by Leon's proximity. He lets his hands wander upward, fingertips straying beneath the fabric of his shirt, wandering ever so slowly up to run his fingers along warm skin, strong muscles working, flexing, as he lets his own touch firm to feel more of him, pull him down to feel his weight.

As he explores Leon's skin he feels some uneven areas beneath his fingertips, ragged edges, some long and angry, others smaller. Old scars, he realizes, and for a moment his touch gentles as he hikes Leon's shirt up just a little higher, his touch now more of a caress than a demand for more friction. He wants to know them all, these marks left by a life so far removed from what Sasha knows. He wants to catch even just a glimpse of the pain Leon has endured and offer something in return, something good, something kind, something to offset the shadows that haunt him.

He looks up at Leon when he speaks next, searches his eyes, although he isn't entirely sure for what. He finds his gaze, dark as his own, and swallows thickly at the promise in his voice, trying to swallow the wave emotion that comes with being wanted even as broken as he feels he is right now. He lets his hands trail down along Leon's back once more, briefly hesitates before moving them to cup Leon's ass to pull him that much closer. He leans in for another kiss then, something slow and deep, yet no less wanting than the first, enjoying it greatly when he feels Leon give into him after some time, his body relaxing more and more. Sasha finds himself thinking he could simply get lost doing this for the foreseeable future, find out just how exactly Leon wants to he kissed and touched, give him exactly what he promises Sasha. But in the end the urgency is still palpable between them, mounting with each movement against each other, and soon enough the kiss tips back over into heated and dizzying.

They break apart with equally laboured breathing and Sasha reaches up with one hand to the back of Leon's neck to keep him close, touching their foreheads together as they catch their breaths.

" Fuck, alright, " he mutters roughly and gives Sasha's cock one more firm squeeze before he shifts to take Sasha's wrists with his fingers, pinning them to the back of the couch before he catches Sasha's lips in another heated kiss. He can feel the erratic beat of Sasha's pulse beneath palms, feel the vibration of Sasha's moans and whimpers against his mouth even as the sound is nearly drowned out by the rushing in his ears, the thunderous beat of his own heart. He can sense Sasha straining against his hold, apologizes wordlessly by threading their fingers together and sweeping his thumbs along the back of his hands.

There's no more words to be said, really, unless they're encouragements for more; the heat and hunger in his gaze conveying enough how much he's into this when he pulls back from the kiss and almost pointedly shifts back until he can sink to the floor, pulling Sasha's hands towards his hair.

He tugs at the waistband of Sasha's pants and underwear, pulling both down far enough to free his cock━ saliva practically flooding his mouth at the sight of him, thick and flushed, vein throbbing along the underside, tip already wet with precum━ one hand loosely wrapping around the base of it so he can stroke the pad of his thumb against that vein and familiarize himself with the weight of it against his palm.

Then he lifts his gaze back to Sasha's, keeping their eyes locked as he leans in to run the flat of his tongue against the underside of Sasha's cock, from the circle of his fingers to the shiny tip, lapping up the fluid beading at the slit. He pauses only briefly, lips hovering oh so tantalizingly close, his breath likely hot and sensitive against the glans, his voice a rough rasp.

" You can be as rough as you want to be. I like getting my hair pulled when I'm on my knees. "

However, the wave of affection he feels towards him is interrupted shortly after by a hint of embarrassment when Leon asks about where his distrust for Ada stemmed from initially. "She asked me to abandon you." He says curtly, an old sense of dread and anger resurfacing at the thought. He watches Leon's shoulders tense and then settle down again, and he doesn't even need to be facing him to know there is a slight frown of confusion on his face. Of course, Leon wouldn't remember. "Back in the sewers, after Annette shot you." He adds context while they round another corner, expression turning sour when he remembers how useless he had been back then. "Not immediately." He adds reluctantly. "She was the one to keep a level head when I was freaking out. I may have caught and carried you, but she found the safe room, and she was the one to dig the bullet out in the end—" He remembers the feel of Leon's blood under his fingertips, remembers the laboured breathing, the pale of his face and most of all the absolute fear that had taken a hold of himself when he thought that he was losing him.

"When we managed to stop the bleeding and it seemed you were going to be fine she decided we had to keep going, that we were losing time, that Anette was getting away. She tried a few things to appeal to my sense of justice or whatever she thought would get me to help her." He shrugs. "I told her I didn't care about any of it." He can still recall the look in her eyes when she realized that there was nothing she could do to convince him. A cross between annoyance and exasperation, and then a flicker of something softer. Regret maybe? Whatever it was, it still wasn't enough to have him consider her words. Even if she was right at the time, there was nothing that could have made him leave Leon's side that day. "Maybe she thought I was more like you." Now he really can't keep from smiling anymore. "Selfless, righteous.... Ready to risk it all to save people, make things right, keep things like this from happening again."

He shakes his head. "But the only thing I cared about back then was keeping you safe." Even though that had spectacularly backfired not soon after that because they ran into Irina and all the clearcut lines he was so fond of back then became blurry and things became harder to fit into categories.

He remains quiet for a moment as a thought occurs to him and he isn't sure how he feels about it. "...I think her and I may be more alike than I'd like to admit." But as much as he'd like to pretend that maybe that's where the initial animosity came from, and that he sensed something was wrong with her, Sasha can't ignore the very obvious other reason he disliked her from the moment he met her, although he was still too deep in denial back then to understand it.

"Also, I was jealous of her."

He's about to say so, tell Sasha there's hardly anything selfish or unrighteous for wanting to stick with the one person that'd been with him along this fucked up journey almost since the very beginning rather than come with the somewhat shady acting FBI agent ( he can admit that in hindsight ), that he's grateful he didn't wake up alone, when the final part of Sasha's confession startles a bark of laughter from him, his own lips pulling up into a smile at the corners mirroring Sasha's own. He knew it. He'd always thought it wishful thinking back then, but the signs had been there. Then again, he supposes he was hardly any better; he can all too easily remember the sick sense of relief he felt upon unmasking Irina's real part in the story, regardless of the hurt that followed after when it looked like Sasha was choosing her over him.

" We already were a pair of idiots back then, weren't we? "

How much easier their lives would've been if they'd just been more open from the very start. But after everything... after all the secrets Leon has had to keep over the years, despite the guilt and regret he still feels for how things went, he knows there isn't really anyone to blame except for their circumstances being as they were.

" For what it's worth, " Leon runs a hand over his face, smile turning wry as he looks over his shoulder, " My supposed righteousness and selflessness aside, if our positions had been reversed I would've made the same choice. " Maybe with a bit more compromise, some more effort to potentially meet up again with Ada later once Sasha had awoken━ which they managed to do after all━ but he wouldn't have just left Sasha to fend for himself. Especially not then, considering the guy hadn't ever even touched a gun before Raccoon City became hell on fucking earth.

" I still would, at that, " and here, his voice softens, his shoulders lifting in a shrug at Sasha's widening eyes, the implication more than clear. " Regardless of whatever I feel or felt for Ada or anyone else throughout the years, it's never been a matter of choice. It was, is and will always be you. " Leon's simply no longer too afraid to admit it anymore, whatever hurt and anger he'd still held onto only a few hours ago thoroughly dashed and blown away by the fact that he'd almost had Sasha die in his arms right after one of their most explosive fights yet.