#zeon

Some headcanons I have about Chrisker and Zeon (non canon, just my interpretation!)

some kind of tf2 zeon

if you dont know what Harry is

this is harry

Replaced his head with one with lights!

Now he glorious!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/87086871

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Leon is on a mission, and Zeno is . . . supposedly on one of his own. Neither expected to find the other at the strip club.

With one of them as the stripper.

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The pole slipped through his hands easily, a buttery glide which was more artistic than skill. A backward bend earned him and explosion of applause and cheers, particularly as the women in the crowd appreciated the display of his toned physique. Bringing himself back up he spun around, hooking a leg before swinging out in a twist and flip that earned him another loud symphony of shrieks. They didn’t notice the slight slip as his heel tried to give out under him, too focused on his washboard abs and the flip of his hair to care what kind of shoes he was wearing. Heels would’ve not been Leon’s first choice, however the other strippers helping him dress for the job said they were far more sexy than any other kind of shoe. Even even for a man. Wisely, they didn’t give him the highest ones they could find, but rather a sort of in-between which gave him enough height to sell the look without betraying the fact he had no idea what he was doing. A couple weeks worth of lessons (from both strippers and Ada) was all he had before going on this particular undercover stunt. Once more, was not his first choice, however the DSO gave him no room for argument.

With all eyes on him, he shouldn’t have noticed any set in particular looking at him. Despite this he got the sense someone was watching him with a certain kind of intensity, which prompted him to look across the room and into a dark corner.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me

Making eye contact was a mistake. But he couldn’t help himself, particularly as Zeno sent him the most annoying smirk.

What the hell was he doing here? And a strip club of all places?

Leon was asking himself the same questions to be honest.

How long has he been there?

Leon forced himself to keep a poker face, instead of focusing on a woman in front of him and giving her a dazzling smile. The blush across her cheeks was instantaneous, and she giggled behind her hand. Her friend was a little more brave and handed over a $20 bill between her two longest fingers. Leon accepted it with a smile, leaving the pole to grab it and kneeling down so she could get a better look at him. He made a point of tucking it in the elastic of his underwear, giving her a hint of the skin underneath.

The woman offered him a sip of her beer, but he declined.

"Sorry sweetheart, I only drink from unopened bottles."

She was hardly disappointed, just enjoying the attention that he gave her and taking her own sip just for him.

The song mercifully ended soon, Leon feeling Zeno's eyes boring into his back as he exited the stage. That was when he allowed his shoulders to slump in, for him to take a deep, long breath. More questions continued to nag at him, but for right now, he had other things to worry about. He was on the job, and he worried Zeno might be looking for the same target.

His next turn seemed to come all too soon, and when he strutted out on stage once more he realized Zeno moved positions. The man now saw front and center, long legs crossed over one another with his black coat settled neatly over his shoulders. In the raving chaos of the club, he sat like a marble statue.

Leon wished he could melt into the floor. He didn’t dare make eye contact with the man again, instead just grabbing his pole and doing a swirl. The resulting roar was almost deafening as the women in the group cheered for even the slightest bit of his attention. Zeno didn’t move, and it was almost too bizarre. Leon wanted to tell him to at least pretend to clap or enjoy himself, because he was certainly standing out of the crowd. But perhaps that’s what he wanted: for Leon to notice him.

It was when Zeno braved standing up and approaching the rail that Leon truly wanted to die. He sauntered up with the sway of his hips that told Leon he had complete control of the room and himself, striding up and leaning against it as if he was a cowboy leaning on the bar of his saloon. In his hand was a crisp - though questionable if real, given his history - $100 bill.

Now Leon really wanted to disappear.

He almost waited to see if one of his female costars would take the money, but he knew for a fact it was for him. Strutting up, he accepted the bill from him, hearing a few women audibly coo in anticipation. Zeno was a handsome man, and Leon knew he was just as much of a looker. Nothing hotter than two men of their caliber getting it on, it seemed.

"Follow me," he said, skillfully sitting on the railing and swinging his legs across. He stood up with a slight wobble, noticing how Zeno carefully touch one of his elbows to ensure he stayed stable. Leon quickly shook him off, fingers reaching out to grasp his tie as if to lead him to the back by a leash.

“I’m not a dog.” Zeno hissed with a hint of annoyance.

“And I’m not a stripper.” Leon retorted. “So better hope you like your lap dances amateur.”

Zeno didn’t say another word until they were within the safe confines of a private room. Leon wasn’t about to take him to the VIP, where the walls were soundproof and the temptation too great. Zeno didn’t seem to notice or care, sitting in the provided chair and spreading his legs.

“So if you’re not a stripper, what are you doing performing in a strip club?“ Zeno asked, raising his eyebrow. He still had his stupid sunglasses on and the dim light, Leon catching the glimmer of his bright eyes beneath them.

"I'm working."

"Naturally. All of them do." Zeno leaned forward, not hiding the way his eyes swept up and down Leon's frame. Not much to show for it, Leon thought as he felt the burn crawl across his skin. All he had on was a strapped thong, one which hugged his hips and matched the black lace-up heels hugging his shins. "DSO check not paying the bills?"

"This is DSO." Leon crossed his arms, frowning.

It earned him a short, scoffing laugh from Zeno, lips curling up in amusement. "A classic set-up, is it not? The agent sent in to be the stripper. Were you not convincing as security?"

Leon flushed.

"My team is full of middle-aged women." He muttered. "I didn't have a choice."

"They are women with good taste." The agent's cheeks flushed deeper at the comment, Zeno's hands gliding across his legs. "Now, I do believe I paid for a dance. As amateur as it is."

Leon shot him the meanest glare he could muster, not moving from his position.

"You're joking." He snapped.

"Not in the least bit." Zeno gave him another malicious smile, fully aware of what he was doing. "And if you're good, I might be able to lend some help in your mission."

Despite the fact he considered himself above many things, Leon knew he was below far more than he cared to admit. For one, he used to drink himself into oblivion on a regular basis, so he was not one to judge on any vices. For another, giving a half-assed lap dance for a chance to have an admittedly powerful man on his side was . . . tempting. The context excluded.

With a defeated, sobering sigh he walked forward, throwing a leg over Zeno's hips. Settled into his lap he paused, Zeno's hands settling on his waist, a thumb skimming the seam of his underwear.

"Pretty sure lap dances have a no-touch rule." Leon mumbled with half the bite he wished he had.

"Depends on the dancer, and the establishment." Came the smooth reply, Zeno adjusting his seat and grip as Leon began a slow, sensual grind against him. He sighed with deep content, leaning back in the chair and letting Leon do as he wished.

Leon tried to remember any sort of routine from movies, or books, maybe even personal experience, but his training was mostly on the pole, not in a lap. He was supposed to be working the floor, after all, but Zeno had a way of becoming the exception - for a lot of things. Hands steadied him on the man's broad shoulders, gazing down at him as he continued to make slow, tantalizing circles against his pelvis.

"Who is the mark?" Zeno asked, breath ghosting against Leon's cheek.

"A frequent flyer." Leon answered, keeping his voice low and allowing the outside music to drown him out. "Bioweapons dealer, of course. Rumor has it he has a few loose Tyrants the Connections lost in transit a few months ago. They need to be secured before they can be sold."

"Dead or alive?"

"Always alive." Leon hissed, as if reprimanding a child. "He has information we need."

"Hmm, I see." Zeno filed away the information for later. "Is he here tonight?"

"Not that we can tell." He changed to a circling motion, watching the reserved expression slowly melt into a blissful softening. Hard, stiff bulge rubbed up against him, his own balls tightening in response to the curl of pleasure warming his core. "But I'm supposed to be on the floor."

"Well then, we should finish this quickly." Zeno purred, lips brushing against his. When Leon pulled away he swore the man pouted. "It's been a while."

"I'm on the job." Leon growled softly. "Despite what this looks like."

"That hasn't stopped you before." Zeno pointed out, hands working lower to rub along his thighs. Leon thought he could control himself until fingertips skimmed along the edge of his thong, thumbs slipping just underneath it to tease. Blood rushed straight from his head into his pelvis, taking with it the logical agent.

"This is different." He gasped, no longer bothering trying to do anything more than simply grinding into him. He opened his mouth, likely to follow up his protest with a sarcastic remark, when a tongue slid inside him. "Mmm!"

Zeno grasped the back of his head when he tried to move, bucking his hips for more friction between them. Lips pressed together, swallowing whatever stupid one-liner Leon was going to throw at him before it could make him genuinely smile. Hips rolled together, Leon's accentuated bulge only growing larger with the hot friction against his buzzing cock head.

Zeno only relented when he felt the man fight for breath, fingers tangled in his dark blonde hair forcing his back to arch to pull away from him and such in air. Dazed deep blues looked at him, fighting for some semblance of displeasure.

"That is definitely against stripper rules." Leon huffed.

"What I want to do to you is against the law, Agent Kennedy." Zeno growled, demonstrating the impossible strength beneath his skin when he flipped him around, dragging his ass back into his pelvis. His thumb pushed aside the string of his thong between his cheeks, revealing the man's puckered hole.

"H-hold on now-" Leon's hands gripped his knees, gritting his teeth when the other hand drifted across his sensitized skin. "Just because you do break the law with your damn Connections doesn't mean you can just- fuck, Zeno!"

Gloved hand swept up his shaft, collecting his pre before drizzling it over his own hole. It flexed in response to the stimulus, Zeno's mouth watering at the prospect.

"Consider it a perk of the job." He suggested, thumb teasing Leon's entrance, slipping in when it felt the familiar intrusion and eagerly opened for him. "Quid pro quo, as it were."

"That was in the sexual harrassment PowerPoint." Leon's eyes fluttered closed, hips settling when he instinctively sank down. "Do you think this counts?"

"You're ruining the mood." Zeno hissed into his ear, despite the encouraging bounces making him even more hard at the thought. Slowly he worked back and forth, easing him open before adding his second finger. This one reached deep into him, Leon jumping when a bolt of pleasure zipped up his spine. His thong soaked through, the man ever grateful he chose a dark color to obscure the wet. He glanced back, lips hanging open slightly, wet and plump.

"Keep going." Eyes closed with a soft groan, which he quickly bit back with teeth sinking into his lip. "We just . . . have to be quiet."

"The curtain provides little privacy, doesn't it?" Zeno mouthed the heat of his pulse point. "You couldn't have put us in a proper room?"

"I didn't want the temptation." Leon moved his hips again, changing the angle and earning himself another spine-stiffening jolt opn those deliciously textured gloves. "Too bad, I guess."

Zeno watched him slide against his hand, his two longest fingers stretching him as far as he could go while Leon rode him with selfish intent. He didn't let him get too close, bringing his hand away in the same motion he unbuckled his belt, relieving the tented tension in his pants. Leon waited patiently for him, taking a moment to catch his breath. His legs burned, the heat in his chest a combination of strain and impending climax.

Like any good trained pet, the second Leon felt the head of his cock notch against him he sank into it, hair falling back out of his face as he silently moaned at the sensation. He adjusted so his legs were in the chair with Zeno, allowing him to better bounce on his lap. Hands gripped the heels of his shoes, keeping him in place as he began moving, mindful to not let the slapping of their skin overcome the bass of the music.

Hands held knees in a death grip, Leon focusing on a point on the ground as his body undulated against the powerful man. He timed his squeezing, every tighten earning him a buzz through his pelvis as his nerves were lit aflame. As if from nowhere he remembered someone once offhandedly told him a trick to riding was to do letters. Move in the shape of their name, or simply the damn alphabet. It didn't have to be perfect, it was the movements which drove them crazy.

It was the combination of "O" and "N" that had Zeno losing his grip, hands seizing Leon's hips to encourage their movements as he grew closer. Teeth scraped on Leon's skin, sinking in the second he tipped over the edge.

Hot, thick ropes spilled into him, adding to the heat already growing in his thong. Movement stopped for a time, Zeno catching his breath as the battle to keep quiet was nearly lost. Hot tongue gently laved over the bite mark apologetically, Leon not sure how he was going to explain that one away.

Perhaps he shouldn't.

Zeno grunted when he stood up, watching Leon struggle for a moment to maintain his balance on the chunky heels provided to him, a streak of cum slipping down his thigh.

He turned around, the bioterrorist expecting an expression of bliss on his face. Instead his brow remained furrowed, concentrated, Leon now standing over him with his legs straddling him. Zeno intially met his eyes, gaze falling towards his hips when thumbs hooked into his thong, pulling it down to reveal his red, angry cock. Denied its pleasure, throbbing and dripping as if a single touch would be all it took to set it off. A hand drifted towards his jaw, eyes flashing in warning.

"What are you doing?" Zeno narrowed his eyes, watching warily as Leon's thumb drifted toward his mouth.

"I still have to work, and your cum in my underwear is bad enough." Leon tilted his chin up. "But I'm not leaving with blue balls."

There was a moment where the man took time to digest Leon's meaning, giving him a look of indignation.

"Just this once." He told him firmly, lips parting.

It was almost worth it, to watch Leon's expression devolve into pure bliss when he slotted inside his mouth. Eyes rolled back, mouth drooped open, and it was only his tip which entered the warm, wet heat. It could have been touching, that he waited for Zeno to move forward on his own volition, to take more of him in. Not one for half-measures in any capacity, he willingly swallowed to his base, nose brushing against the thick curls dancing up toward his abdomen. A hand clutched his hair, fisting through the gelled style as his hips began to move. Zeno obediently remained still, gazing up through pale lashes to watch Leon's head tilt up toward the ceiling. The strong column of his neck arched back, Adam's Apple bobbing in ecstasy.

Every time he bottomed out and pulled back to his tip Zeno sucked, Leon's body shuddering with the contained moans threatening to break free. It took only a few strokes before his pace was changing and he was finishing into his throat, shivering in ecstasy. Zeno held his hips, letting him catch his breath even as his cheeks remained stuffed with dick. Slowly he pulled away from him, a white string connecting the tip to his bottom lip.

Leon cleaned him with a thumb, which the man licked clean without prompting.

"Good enough dance for you?" He asked.

It pulled a grin out of Zeno.

"An excellent dance." He agreed, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his mouth cleaned, then working on pulling his gloves from his hands. "Consider your work here done."

"I still have the rest of the shift-"

"No." Hungry eyes roved across him once more. "Go home, Leon. Your mission here is done."

Go home.

Mission here is done.

The corner of Leon's mouth twitched.