Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wesker’s house feels so much more intimidating when he’s sober.

He sits in his car, twiddling his thumbs over the steering wheel with the engine running, waiting for the clock to hit 7:30 as he stares across the man’s house. It’s already dark out, a symptom of it being mid-December, but with the streetlamps and the various garden lights, he can make out the distinctive bricks of the building, the two cars parked in the lot, and the dark railings leading to the front door.

It hadn’t been a hard decision for Leon. If Wesker had said it would be okay, then it must be okay. Wesker’s a smart man and he trusts his judgment. Besides, there was a spark of curiosity when Wesker had told him Birkin had hoped he’d come. He doesn’t know much about the nature of their relationship but he’s invigorated by the prospect of it. Curious. Birkin had seemed so offput by him, uncertain of his presence at first.

Then, there’s the thought of what he and Wesker did that night. His fingers plunging in and out of him. Wesker’s name on his lips as he’d come undone. A morbid part of him hopes it happens again, prays it will. But, he doesn’t count on it in the slightest. Dinners he can excuse, but he fears that more of… that would be going too far.

Maybe.

Leon inhales shakily, his heart pounding. The clock reads 7:29. One more minute. He’s been here for about twenty already after having spent an hour at home fussing over his appearance. Showering, fixing his hair, then showering again, getting dressed in his nicest clothes (a sweater and a pair of jeans). He’s still looking at himself in the car mirror as he waits for the last minute to pass, his heart pounding into his throat unsure of what to expect when he goes up the steps.

7:30. Leon exhales, grips his steering wheel tight, and then finally turns off his engine—the Nirvana that had been playing abruptly stops as he shuts off the radio and gets out. He wonders what Wesker’s making—what he’d made the other day had been pretty good for breakfast food. He’s always taken Wesker as a man with curated tastes. Probably steak and wine. Maybe Birkin’s a vegetarian and there’s no meat at all, something like a garden salad? Though, that feels slim on its own.

He steps up the brick stairs of the house, wondering how he managed to get up them when he was drink, they’re narrow and crooked and he nearly trips over them summiting sober. He reaches the door and—after a tense moment of holding his breath and gathering his confidence—he knocks twice.

He hears nothing on the other side of the door for a moment. The blinds are shut, but the lights are on. However, he only has enough time to anxiously shift his weight between legs before the door opens eagerly.

William is the one there—as Leon thought he might be. His blond hair seems tidier than it was the other day, properly brushed out. He wears a white dress shirt and a pair of slacks. He actually seems like he cleaned up for this, jaw and upper lip freshly shaved, and eyes bright. Leon flushes just seeing him, taking a moment to drink him in.

He’d come off as tired and dissheveled when he’d first met him, of course as to be expected for early morning, but now he seems proper and prim. Professional . His outsides match the strict, formal attitude he’d encountered before.

“Good evening, Leon,” He runs a hand through his hair and steps back, as if unsure of what to do with his hands. Awkward. Leon quickly steps in, eagerly searching for Wesker who he finds in the kitchen, working over the stove. It seems it’s where his safe space resides.

“You were more than welcome to knock when you got here,” Wesker comments from the kitchen as Birkin shits the door behind Leon. He turns his eyes up, shaded by his glasses. “I hadn’t expected you to wait around for so long or else I would have sent Will out to get you.”

“In that weather?” Birkin bickers, “I think not.”

“You said 7:30,” Leon replies, taking off his shoes at the front door and slowly following Will to the kitchen where the man sits back down at the dining table. A stack of papers rests before him but Leon doesn’t get a good look at them as he instead attends to Wesker.

“You’re a guest here, Leon, not a subordinate.” Albert turns what he’s cooking over. The smell of it had wafted into Leon’s nose—garlic, thyme, rosemary, but actually seeing the dish up close only makes him drool all the more. Salmon sears upon the gas stove, basking in oil and sizzling beside the salad of herbs dressing it. To Wesker’s left, three plates have already been dished up with a size of sauteed mushrooms, onions, and asparagus; still hot off the stove. Leon’s never been much for vegetables, but the smell alone makes him wonder if Wesker alone will change his mind.

“I guess…” Leon’s already forgotten what they were talking about, his eyes larger than his belly as his superior scoops the salmon from the pan onto the plates beside him. The largest for Leon, but Wesker and Birkin’s being half of the same one. Leon frowns, confused but not bothered enough to make a comment on it.

“Do you like wine, Leon?” Will’s voice rings from the table behind him and, quickly, Leon turns on his heel to look. He’s pointing to a bottle of white wine before him, something that looks really expensive.

Leon gulps. “Um… Yeah. Sometimes.” He says it as if he’s had more than a few sips in his life. Hesitantly, he steps forward and takes a seat across from Birkin, hands in his lap. “This is all… really fancy. I hadn’t expected… You know…” He flushes hard, unsure of what he had expected and wondering if it’s rude to have expected less.

“Yes, well,” Wesker turns off the stove and grabs the plates from the counter, bringing them to the table. “Birkin had insisted that we be formal with this.” Birkin flushed hard when Wesker says so, even moreso when Leon’s eyes meet his face. “He’d suggested we get such expensive wine. Though, the salmon…” He delivers a plate before Leon. “That was me.”

Leon’s eyes flicker from one man to the other, watching Birkin sink into his chair and Wesker press the last two plates to the table before taking his own seat. “So… What’s the occasion?”

Wesker cocks a brow. “Must there be one?”

Leon supposes not, but it all seems like so much just for some… dinner he was invited to. The longer that he sits in their dining room, looking down at the gorgeously prepared salmon and the expensive wine that Wesker’s begun to pour out for him, the more he feels like this isn’t just meant to be dinner. There’s more to this that they’re not telling him and he doesn’t know what it is. He licks his lips, flicking his eyes from Wesker’s plate to his own and then up to Birkin who’s still got a slight tinge of flush to his cheeks.

“I guess not it’s just…” He pauses to take a bite of the salmon only to go dead silent, eyes rolling into his head as the meat melts on his tongue—perfectly buttered and sauteed in just the right mix of herbs to be strong but not overwhelming. He doesn’t know if he’s ever tasted fish so good, and it shows.

“We’ve been talking,” Wesker speaks gently while Leon melts into the meal. He takes a long sip of his wine, casting an unseen glance William’s way before he eyes Leon again. “If you’d be open to it—we’d love to have you stay the night.”

Leon’s so distracted the words don’t quite process at first, he’s far too distracted by the savory mix of food in his mouth that it isn’t until he swallows that he rewinds the words in his head and nearly chokes. His eyes flash from Wesker—who’s looking just as monotonous as he always does—then to Birkin—who simply smiles at Leon and nods in agreement—and then back to Wesker.

“What… What do you mean, Sir?” Leon asks, shifting in his seat. He knows what he wants it to mean, the thought lingers in the back of his mind alongside the remembrance of Wesker’s fingers, his breaths on his neck, his deep, fried voice. Then, he looks to Birkin and wonders what that would mean to him . Surely, they just mean to sleep, maybe to drink more and just relax with each other. Not… not for…

Wesker hums at the question, humored by Leon’s oblivious stature. Birkin’s humored by the question, but it’s faint enough that Leon doesn’t notice it. Finally, Albert turns his eyes toward Leon who’s shoveling another bite into his mouth, starved. “What do you think it means?”

Leon doesn’t want to answer that. He’s terrified that he’ll say the wrong thing and Wesker will give him an incredulous look and Birkin will be discomforted. Yes, they acknowledged it last time, but maybe it was just a one-time thing, maybe it was just Leon being a little too needy and Wesker providing because he felt like he had to–

Leon’s not that dumb. He knows there’s more here than he’s willing to admit. But he refuses to be the first to say it, and he turns to Birkin, looking for some sort of savior from the encounter. Leon opens his mouth to speak, trying to get something out, but unable to. It’s only when the look of dumbfoundedness upon his face turns to discomfort that Birkin steps in.

“Listen, we’d…” He pauses, looking to Wesker for a moment before he returns his gaze back to Leon, flushing slightly at the cheeks. It’s something that Leon’s seen a lot of from Birkin—that peach twinging flush, above warm-tinted lips. “We’d love to… to have you spend the night for…” He lowers his voice as he says the following, “For… sex .” Just him saying the word sends Leon’s heart into a frenzy, his thoughts and desires manifested in the best way they could be. He shudders, a harsh shiver running up his spine. “But, we understand if that’s… If that’s not what you want. The last thing he’d want to do is make you uncomfortable—”

“N-No!” Leon butts in, shaking his head and flicking his eyes from Birkin to Wesker and then back. “No, it’s just… I hadn’t thought that you’d… want something like that from me?” He clears his throat and leans back in his seat, the food on his plate the last thing on his mind.

“You thought I’d done what I had last week for novelty’s sake?” Wesker purrs beside Leon before shaking his head. “There’s a reason I told you not to keep your voice down.”

Leon looks at Birkin and doesn’t miss the harsh flush that crosses the doctor’s face, nor does he miss the harsh kick of his leg against Wesker’s—thoroughly embarrassed. “ Al .”

“I’d… I’d like to.” Leon finally speaks, catching both of their attentions from each other. “If… If you’ll have me.” Then, as a second thought, he adds, looking to Wesker and gesturing to Birkin. “Does he… Does he know about…?”

Wesker nods, meeting eyes with Birkin who slowly catches on. “Yes. I informed him the night of. Hardly an issue, is it?”

Birkin beams. “Fine with me.”

Leon's surprised by Birkin's acceptance to say the least, but far from disappointed. He smiles slightly, twinged with a sense of pride and confidence in himself for how quickly the man accepted him. He doesn't know much about Will, but his experiences in the past with the few gay men he's come across weren't the best. He's glad that both Wesker and Birkin are glad to accept him as he is without a second thought.

Leon turns his eyes back to his salmon, eager to eat away and finish his meal and see what the rest of the night holds for him.

~~~

They all finish dinner quickly. Most of the conversation revolves around S.T.A.R.S. and Leon's work with the team. Sparring that last Monday had gone well with Leon gaining a few easy victories upon the smaller members of the team, but turning around when it came to Jill and Barry. Wesker asks for Leon's opinion on the team so far, gains his insight on how things are working at the station and all the while, Birkin sits quietly, chewing on his own food with rare input here and there about the members that he recalls well enough to spare his two cents about.

It's good company, a good meal and wine, and overall a fun time for Leon. As the evening progresses, he finds himself growing more lax in Birkin and Wesker's presence. They're kind to him and welcoming in a way that Leon hadn't expected from Wesker. As their plates empty and their glasses drain, Leon gains a small buzz, churning up his chest and easing his nervousness. By the time dinner's done, he's smiling excessively in their presence, laughing with Wesker and casting gleeful glances William's way. Birkin, though quiet, seems happy to be in both of their presences, sipping at his wine idly between small bites of his food.

"Do you visit the R.P.D., Doctor?" Leon asks, trying to get the scientist to join in on conversation. Wesker stands from his seat, collecting plates and utensils to deliver to the kitchen sink as he leaves the conversation up to the rookie.

Will hums, thoughtfully. "Not often. Not my place to go. I'm not keen on outing myself and Al to the station." He grabs the bottle of wine to refill himself, and—after a brief moment of looking to Leon for permission–-he fills Leon's cup, too. "But, he visits me at my work occasionally. Just to check in on how things are going."

Wesker nods from the kitchen sink, opening the empty dishwasher to begin loading it. Leon wonders, momentarily, if he should do anything to help but ultimately passes on it. Wesker knows his house better than Leon does and seems to have it handled. He returns his gaze to Will's, hands in his lap and the ghost of a remnant smile tugging at his lips.

"What do you do for work?"

Birkin's eyes flash with something Leon pinpoints as stress–-anxious and uncertain. The scientist takes a sip of his drink and clears his throat. "I work for Umbrella, actually."

"Vaccines," Wesker butts in, pulling out a rack from the dishwasher. "He's a talented virologist, one of the only ones I actually respect."

Leon laughs, figuring it a jest. "You know a lot of virologists, Sir?"

Wesker nods, completely serious. "Plenty." Birkin huffs from Leon's right. Leon's smile fades, not having expected the answer.

"Oh, I didn't know." He turns his gaze back to Birkin. "So that's why it's Doctor Birkin? You have your degree in virology?" He doesn't entirely know what virology means, but he figures viruses. Context clues.

"Yes." Birkin clears his throat nervously. Leon catches it and isn't sure what he's nervous about, but he assumes it just dinner nerves. They're winding down from their meal and Leon knows what's going to come next. At least he thinks he knows what comes next. The wine's nearly completely gone now, Birkin's eyeing Wesker, and Wesker's preoccupied with putting away dishes. "I got it when I was 16. Child prodigy they called me."

"16!?" Leon exclaims, brows shot up his forehead.

Will grows bashful, a small smile crossing his lips. "Um–-Yes. Parents paid for a good university and all that... Suppose it's privilege."

"Privilege and talent, dear." Wesker grabs a dish from the sink and pushes it into the washer before he eyes both Leon and Birkin from under his glasses, flashing them both an unreadable look. "It's getting late, isn't it? Why don't you show him the room, Will? I'm sure we'll be wanting to move things along here, won't we?"

Leon's heart flips when Wesker speaks. He looks to Will, as if searching for some sort of guidance but the man looks just as uncertain and nervous as Leon. Still, despite it, there's excitement under his features. Where his cheeks burn and his eyes dart around, uncertain of whether to look at Leon or Albert, he can hardly keep the smile from his lips. It's childish and giddy in a way that Leon didn't think Will could exude. A part of him would almost call it... cute.

"R-Right." He clears his throat and raises his glass to his lips, gulping down the last of his wine for courage. Leon takes a note from his book, doing the same. He knows the buzz he's got is going to help him a little but it's far from what he needs to clear all his inhibitions. The more he takes, the better for him. But, he's certainly not looking to grow drunk like that last time. He still only remembers flashes of that night.

He wants to remember everything tonight.

"This way," Birkin guides, stepping away from the table toward the stairs. Leon quickly follows, tucking his chair back into the table. He flashes Wesker one last inquizitive look, as if looking for encouragement. The smile he recieves back is more than enough for him.

Leon follows William up the stairs, eyes flickering from his wrinkled, white dress shirt half-tucked into his slacks to the curling, blond hairs trailing down his neck, and finally to his shoes. Loafers. Similar to the ones that Wesker wears when he's dressed up.

At the top of the stairs, Will turns his eyes back, as if to ensure Leon's following, and then he takes the sharp left to that door from last time. A detail that Leon hadn't noticed before is the painting hung at the top of the stairs, a large classical floral painting. Acrylics. Leon doesn't know much about art, but just looking at it he wonders how much it must cost. Hundreds, at least. He admires it as Birkin opens the door to the bedroom.

It's gorgeous and luxurious in ways Leon could only dream of. The walls painted a soft gray while the room follows a generally monochrome theme. Lots of grays and whites and blacks. The bedsheets are a gorgeous midnight color—deep blackish-blue—upon a massive bed. It must be bigger than a king. Leon wonders if they custom bought it for the type of relationship they have.

Upon the walls hang many different paintings. Many of which are floral, several abstract, and–-at the foot of the bed as Leon's eyes scan the room with an open mouth, he finds a large floor-length mirror that spans nearly the whole wall. Will pushes at it and it folds, revealing his closet. He toes off his shoes and pushes them in mindlessly, as if it's routine he's done hundreds of times before.

"I had no clue you were so... This is..." Leon clears his throat. "This is really fancy."

Will laughs heartily, endeared by Leon's surprise with the state of the room. "I'm glad you think so. I thought it was all so over the top. I hardly ever spend time here anyways, what with how busy my job is, but..." He meets Leon's eyes, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "But I suppose it is nice."

There's a moment's pause between them, but it's not necessarily awkward. Leon looks at Birkin and Birkin looks back with a sense of something gentle and sweet in his eyes. Admiration, Leon reads it as. He flushes, there's a moment where he just takes in the man—his worn down features, the slight wrinkles in his face. No laugh lines but bags under his tear ducts and lines between his brows like he's spent half his life frowning. Leon knows next to nothing about William Birkin–-all he knows is that he's a good friend and lover of Wesker, and he respects Wesker enough to look at him with the same love he gives his captain.

Birkin's the first to initiate more. He slowly eases himself a step closer to Leon, hesitant, gazing into his eyes to gauge his emotions. Then, with a sharp breath, he brings his hands forward and slowly, gently, he thumbs at the hem of Leon's sweater.

"I... I've never done anything like this before," Will confesses, avoiding Leon's eyes adamantly. "I've... only ever done this will Al before."

Leon swallows. He's done this a few times, but certainly not to the extent that Wesker seems to have. Mostly high-school girlfriends and the few one-night stands he could manage on his own. He's not one for casual sex, he knows he's taking a chance with this, but they both seem so nice. He came for Wesker and Birkin just happens to be an added bonus.

"It's okay, I'm also... Inexperienced." Leon laughs lightly, flicking his eyes down to Birkin's lips. There's a moment where the tension reaches its peak, he wonders if either of them will make the first move or if they'll just spend forever staring at each other. But, then, all at once the tension snaps and Birkin eases himself forward. Their lips brush, and then they kiss. Leon gasps into the feeling, shuts his eyes with a gentle smile and takes in Will.

He tastes like the wine they had with dinner–-sparkling and dry. His lips are wet and worn, chewed to the muscle and rigid. Leon doesn't mind at all. He drinks it in and then some, uncertainty thick in his posture as he slowly eases his hands to Birkin's hips, gently resting them on either side of blooming lovehandles. Will exhales sharply, his body twitching against Leon, brimming in anticipation. When Will pulls back and Leon gets a good look at him, the throbbing bulge in his pants don't go unnoticed. Leon shudders.

Neither of them speak, neither of them really know what to say in that moment. Will looks at Leon and Leon looks back and, despite the fact it should be much more awkward than it is, there's a sense of joy there that Leon hasn't seen from him before. He smiles back and presses himself forward this time, deepening the kiss. Will hums into it.

They kiss for a while, back and forth, slowly growing acclimated to each other's bodies. Leon musters confidence that he hadn't known he had before. He supposes it's the wine, or maybe it's Birkin's waivering confidence, but either way, he's the one pulling most of the weight through the acts. His hands drag along the man's side, up against his dress shirt, and stop at the bottom of his chest when he isn't sure if he should go further.

Will reacts to each touch like he's starved, shivering and shuddering, pushing into Leon's hands before, all at once, he steps back toward the bed–=still connected to Leon at the lips in deep, savory kisses. Leon gasps when Birkin pulls him down atop him, surprised by the action but far from disappointed.

"Doctor," Leon breathes, pulling away long enough to take a sharp inhale.

"Call me Will," Birkin breaths back lightly, finally wrapping his arms fully around Leon's back to feel every little bit of him. His fingers drag down to the hem of his sweater again and–-with cold, slim fingers–-he pulls the thick top up his stomach. It reaches the bottom of his chest before Leon seizes Will's hand, holding him still, but not pushing him away. They share a glance, Leon's expression twinged with anxiety, Birkin's uncertain and confused.

"I..." Leon starts, breathlessly. From the bottom of his sweater, his binder pokes out, tight against his chest, keeping his form flat. He flushes. It's not that he's nervous about it showing, it's simply that he doesn't know how Birkin will react. He's had enough rejection in his life and he knows that Will told him it was fine, but there's still a lingering worry in the back of his mind that maybe this will be the dealbreaker—this will be the reason that Birkin thinks he's not good enough. "Sorry, I'm..."

"Do you want to keep it on?" Will suggests, frowning and starting to pull the sweater back down. Leon shakes his head vigorously. He wants to feel Will's fingers on him properly. He desperately needs that skin-on-skin contact. His fingers, cold and unpracticed, drag against his skin in a way Leon's never felt before. Leon wants to feel him. Needs to.

"No, I just–" Leon swallows. "Sorry, I'm... usually I don't get this far." He laughs nervously.

Birkin flashes him something dismissive. "It's not a bother to me." He licks his lips and trails his eyes down to the bottom of Leon's shirt before he continues to pull at the sweater. Leon lets him, lifting his arms to let the clothing lift from off his frame. Birkin throws the shirt aside but doesn't bother attempting at Leon's binder. Leon's grateful. "I'm surprised you haven't gotten surgery yet."

"O-Oh," Leon laughs nervously, flashing his eyes away. "I just haven't had the money." It's true. He's managed to get on testosterone for two years now and he's been buying binders for as long as he could but throwing the several thousand on surgery... it's much more than he can afford on his own. He tells himself someday.

"Hm..." Birkin drags his fingers down Leon's lower back, over the toned muscles of his hips, and then around to his abdomen. He ponders on it as if it's something he's disappointed with. Leon shies away. That is, until he mutters out a small, "Maybe, I could fix that."

"Yeah?" Leon laughs as if it's a joke. Birkin looks back at him dead serious. He doesn't get a chance to ask further before the man attaches their lips once more.

Birkin's tongue dips at Leon's lower lip and Leon opens up for him, lets the writhing muscle drip further into his mouth, drag over his bottom teeth and then dart back out again, closing their lips against each other before doing it again, growing more brave with each kiss they exchange. Leon doesn't think to do anything else before Birkin grabs a hand from Leon—forcing the man to shift his weight–-and then he pushes it to the top button of his shirt, encouraging him to undress him. Leon doesn't dare hesitate.

The rookie thumbs at Birkin's dress shirt, continuing to leave kisses upon his lips before Birkin deems himself bored of it and begins trailing his lips down Leon's jaw, coaxing breathy sighs from the man. Leon shuts his eyes, desperately trying to focus on getting Birkin's shirt off as the man nibbles and marks at his jaw, then down his neck—dragging his lips over places long-neglected.

"Jesus, Will..." Leon sighs, shutting his eyes into the sensation. Birkin's cock throbs hard into his thigh and—desperate to feel it again—he says his name again. Breathier, desperate, and hot. " Will. "

Just as Leon's about to consider just ripping Will's buttons completely, no longer interested in preserving his patience, the door behind him opens, and he wrenches his neck away from the scientist to turn his gaze upon Wesker. His glasses rest low on his face, his posture strong and direct, and a small smile upon his face, enamored by the image he comes upon. Will sees the other man and Leon feels his cock throb again.

"Al," Birkin breathes in the bed, dragging his hand down to Leon's hip to grab a chunk of flesh. Leon groans into the feeling, shutting his eyes and pushing against him.

"How is he?" Wesker muses, shutting the door behind himself to toe off his own shoes. Leon watches as he slowly unbuttons his own dress shirt, dark and black against his hands. Those hands. Leon shudders.

"Perfect," The blod breathes under Leon, laughing a little bit with the revelation. Leon flicks his eyes down to him, eyes wide and honored by the compliment. "He's..." His eyes gleam with excitement, keen on drinking in every little detail of Leon he can, from his lightly freckled face to the straight, blond hair cascading from his head, and those perfect blue eyes. Leon flushes and he only grins more. "I like him."

Birkin's thumb drags up to Leon's jaw, eases itself over his bottom lip. Leon allows it.

His spit mixes and wets Birkin's thumb and slowly, gently, the scientist drags that finger down further and turns his eyes to Wesker, wide and excited, as if he's just found a new treat to play with. Leon responds by pressing his thigh further into Birkin's crotch, testing the hardness of his cock and savoring the way the scientist whines, head tilted back into the cover sheet of the bed.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Will. It's been a long while since you've been this excited for anything." As Wesker speaks, Leon finally manages to get hte scientist's dress shirt off form his chest, unbuttoning each hearty button until his torso comes into full view. It's a shocking sight for Leon at first, his fingers wandering down from the man's chest to where he can see the faint outline of his ribs prodding at his skin.

The bone is hard and ripples against Leon's fingers as he drags them down, reaching to his sharp hip bones. He doesn't make a comment on it, doesn't think to, but he'd be lying if he said the sight didn't bring some concern to his heart nonetheless.

Leon attaches his and Will's lips once again, shutting his eyes a they kiss, trying to take his attention away from the fact that Wesker's still watching from the side of the room, probably taking off his own shirt. Leon faintly hears the rustling of the fabric, strains his ears to sense if the man's coming any closer, but he seems content to simply watch from the sidelines. He draws his shaded eyes over both of the men's frames, thoroughly admiring each detail as if they were made of marble—gorgeously crafted just for him.

It's only when Birkin begins pawing loosely at Leon's jeans that Wesker moves in, pressing hismelf to Leon's back, his own hardening member straining and jutting against the curve of Leon's ass. The blond nearly chokes, shutting his eyes against the feeling of it, incredibly apparent and hard to ignore. With the S.T.A.R.S. captain's body against his own, he pushes back into it, taking in his warmth and leaning into him to give Will more room to work at Leon's pants.

It's nothing like Leon's ever experienced before, the center of attention between two bodies—both of which he's incredibly attracted to. Will's cold under him, unable to maintain any body heat with his frail frame, while Wesker's body burns against his own, searing with arousal.

It's overwhelming and stimulating in every sense of the words, he eases his thigh deeper into Birkin's groin just to feel his cock bounce back in desperation, meanwhile the man's still pawing at the belt of his pants, tugging at the leather like it's the difference between life and death. Leon hums into the sensation, breathes out just as Wesker's lungs breathe in, expanding against his back.

The S.T.A.R.S. captain drapes himself over Leon, drags his fingers over the man's lower back and replaces Birkin's cold touch with his aged, calloused hands. That's all it takes for every thought in Leon's brain to shut off. All he can think about are the two men surrounding him, encapsulating him, possessing him. He can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but just groan into the sensation and sigh as the world caves around him. He feels a second hardening bulge push itself against the cleft of his clothed ass and all he can do is just whine into the feeling.

"Fuck..." Leon breathes, pushing back into Wesker's frame just to feel the man's thin lips trace the bone of his jaw, up to the back of his neck and stopping at his jugular.

"You must really enjoy this, Leon," Wesker comments, dragging those warm hands around his front and slowly dipping them between the space of his pants—which have finally loosened from around his waist—to his underwear. He keeps his hand above the fabric, teasing him. With practiced motions, he drags two fingers to his t-dick, massaging the tiny bulge, pushing down to his entrance, and then moving right back up. Leon's sensitive—he's on fire between the two of them, panting and buzzing between the alcohol and the drug of his own arousal. It's only when Wesker finally pushes two fingers against his clit that he breaks, moaning his arousal to fruition. William leans forward and kisses him, drinking in the pleasure, taking it for himself.

"Let me feel," Will murmurs, ducking the hand that had worked so furiously at Leon's belt into his pants, too, until his fingers meet Wesker's dragging over the ripe, wettened arousal of his cunt. Leon can only whine, his head blank as two different hands explore his nethers, dragging over his cock, down to his entrance, and back up to his lower stomach. It's so overstimulating and perfect and— God.

Leon doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know what could make any of this better, but he knows he wants his pants off and he wants Will and Wesker's pants off, too. So, he pulls himself away with a half thought out, "Take off your... Take off your pants." He doesn't know who he's talking to, but nevertheless, it seems to work. Birkin laughs from under him, his lips still not far from Leon's, but he still pulls himself away and agrees, grabbing Leon's hands and setting them on his own belt, encouraging him to go through with taking it off. Leon doesn't dare hesitate.

The blond tugs at Birkin's belt like he's starved, pulling himself back enough so his cock no longer digs into his thigh. Wesker still keeps himself behind Leon, dragging his fingers over his frame, down his stomach, up his chest over his binder, and back down to his hips, touching him like he wants to claim every square inch of his frame. Wesker's selfish in that aspect, in that he wants to touch and possess and own. Leon doesn't bind it one bit. He pushes into each touch, savors the warmth of his fingers and the feeling of his breaths over his shoulder while he finally manages to yank the belt free and shoves the leather aside to start on the button and zipper of Birkin's pants.

"He's been eager since he first saw you, you know," Wesker purrs from over Leon's shoulder, coaxing him to tug the denim down faster and—after a moment of admiring the tent throbbing in the man's boxers—free his cock from the cotton underwear, too. "He heard me that night and he told me he wanted to try you, too."

Leon looks to Will's face, as if asking if what Wesker says is true. He turns his face away, but doesn't deny it. His cheeks flush, his eyes dart anywhere but to Leon's face, and even without words, it's the only answer the rookie needs. His effort increases threefold, thoroughly motivated by Birkin's shyness, by his inability to answer or defend himself.

"And then the next morning," Wesker continues, his fingers cupping Leon's bulge while Leon untucks Birkin's cock. His eyes drag over the sight of it—his peach-brushed head, uncut and standing as tall as he can. He's on the shorter side, but thick as if his girth could make up for the lack of length. Will blushes again, looking away. Leon can't tell if it's embarassment of Wesker's words or self-consciousness of his cock. "I can't remember the last time I'd seen him that eager to want to lay anybody."

"I-I just..." Will starts, trying to defend himself. Leon slowly, gently, takes his cock in his hand, strokes the length from tip to base, unsheathing him from his foreskin to lay his eyes upon his blushing, gleaming head, already drooling with precum. He's soaked. "I... You're... Urgh... "

Wesker laughs from behind the man, humored by his bashful nature. Leon's charmed by it, too, his self-confidence inflated tenfold by just how nervous Will is around him. He'd thought that he'd had a higher social standing than Leon, with a PhD in virology at the age of 16, but he's quickly realizing that it means nothing in the context of attractiveness. He's got this scientist on his back flushing and whining and unable to sputter more than a few words just because Leon's got his hand around his cock and is stroking him, exploring him.

"I didn't know you liked me so much..." Leon breathes, eyes flickering between the man's face and his twitching cock. He has a thought, for just a second, an impulse and he nearly doesn't act on it. But, with Wesker behind him turning Birkin into a melting mess by nothing more than his words and Leon stroking his cock through it, he finds that he doesn't have it in him to control himself. He twists his wrist on the upstroke of his dick and—just as Birkin moans out—he pushes his head down and takes Will into his mouth, tongue over his bottom teeth, taking him all the way in one quick stroke.

William all but shouts, his hips buck up and his fingers reach for whatever purchase they can find. It ends up being Wesker's thigh and the back of Leon's head; his nails digging into skin, his digits grasping at the blond hair of his scalp.

It's unexpected for both William and for Wesker—Leon can tell that much. The hand Wesker had reserved upon Leon's hip digs a little bit harder as he takes in the sight of Leon swallowing down Will's cock like it's nothing. He doesn't have much experience sucking cock, not as much as he'd like, but he's still confident enough in his ability to keep going. The way Will melts and moans under him only encourages the depravity more.

"That's it," Wesker praises from behind Leon, the low hum of his voice sparking arousal up his gut. Beside Will's grasping, desperate digits, Wesker finds his own way in Leon's hair, pushing him down further, encouraging him to swallow him whole. Thankfully, Birkin's short enough that he can keep himself bottomed out comfortably, still able to inhale strained breaths through his nose. He turns watering eyes up to the scientist—flushed and hot in his own disheveled way. He's gorgeous— cute , Leon thinks. He never thought someone as old and as ragged as Birkin could be cute in that way, but he is.

"G– Ngh–Fuck– " Birkin slurs out a litany of mumbles and moans and keens of pleasure, but none of them completely make sense. His brain mushes into nothing more than slop as Leon massages his length with his tongue and purses his lips harder, hollowing his cheeks. He pulls out every trick in the book as both Wesker and Birkin keep him in place, sheathed upon his cock. He loves it. Despite the fact that Birkin's the one stimulated, he still feels like the center of attention—praised and doted over for every little action.

He's never been much of an attention whore before, but he wonders if this might change him. It's a good feeling, similar to praise. And if Wesker's watchful eyes are upon him, it's all the better.

"Let him up, Al," Will just manages from under Leon, eyes flicking from the rookie's warm, hazy face to the other above him. "You wouldn't like to see what he can do on his own?"

Wesker seems reluctant to let go, his hands stable on the back of Leon's head holding him in place—but nevertheless he lets go and allows Leon the room to pull up. Birkin keeps his hand in his hair, but doesn't push him at all, allowing Leon all the air he needs.

His lips come off slick with spittle, thin ropes of the same saliva that coats Birkin's dick run up and tie to Leon's lips. It's perfect, erotic, and depraved in his own bright-eyed, naive way. Leon licks the last of the spit with his tongue—looking Will in the eye as he does so—before he eases himself back down, eager to show him what he can do.

His cheeks hollow once again and he works up a decent amount of suction as he begins to bob his head on the scientist's length, dragging his tongue down the underside of his base, stroking the wet muscle across the man's head, and down to the base of his shaft. The large tendon that prods up his length isn't abandoned in the least. Leon pays attention to it as he works his lips up and down the man, sure to coat every square inch in as much thick, mucousy spit as he can. He's sloppy about it, looks Birkin in the eye as he performs, and the scientist can't do much more than just whine and writhe under him, gasping for breath like he's dying.

"Just like that, Leon, very good..." Wesker continues, his hand trailing down the back of Leon's neck before curving around to his front and dipping into his pants where he begins attending to his neglected cock once again. "Will's always been on the sensitive side. Isn't he just precious when he squirms like this?"

"Al—" Will cries out, humiliated by the way the man talks about him, as if it isn't all true. Leon learns something, then, with Will's cock in his mouth and hearing their banter. As Wesker speaks about him—borderline humiliates him—Birkin's cock twitches and drools inside of Leon's mouth, growing harder by the second. He realizes it's not just banter—it's ineherently sexual for Will.

When Wesker's fingers reach below Leon's underwear and drag across his entrance, he, too, realizes how that reflects back onto Leon.

"It's true, isn't it?" Wesker continues over the sloppy sounds of Leon sucking off Will—spit slicking across Leon's lips, the occaional sound as Will's cock hits the back of Leon's throat and his gag reflex acts up. "I've always liked him best when he's squirming and whining like this. He always becomes so pathetic..." Leon's cock throbs with each word Wesker speaks about Will. "It's interesting how such a dignified professional like him can melt and lose all that reputation in the time it takes for you to get your mouth around him. Rather... hm..." Wesker pauses as he tries to search for the word. Leon realizes they're making eye contact when he looks up to Will and sees his gaze meet Wesker's. " Astounding, don't you think, Leon?"

The rookie, still focused on giving Birkin the very best head he can, pulls off to reply. Though he isn't even sure how to reply at first, he's fueled by the fact that Birkin seems to be having the time of his life in that moment. The way he whines and squirms under Leon, his hips bucking and cock drooling endlessly is more than enough to Leon get a grasp on what he should say.

"I..." Leon starts, choked. "Yeah... Yeah, it is." He exhales shakily and runs his fingers up the soft, pallid canvas of Will's thighs. He's pale but not so terribly that he's lost all color—there's a warmth under it, the peach tone of his skin coming through against Leon's cool pink. As he runs his fingers over the man and up his stomach, tracing every rib along the way, he licks his lips and continues. "Do... Do you always back down this easily... Will?"

He's uncertain about his words, unsure of what's too far and what isn't. Nevertheless, the doctor responds positively. He moans and pushes his hips up against Leon again, holding eye contact with brows etched so high into his forehead it seems they'll disappear into the forest of his blond bangs. Leon smiles.

"I-I-" Will starts, his thighs tensing. He turns his gaze from Leon to Wesker, as if uncertain of how to reply. Leon isn't sure how he should reply either, but Wesker—dutiful as always and holding the stone top between the three of them—gives them direction.

"Why don't you lay back, Leon?" He purrs into the rookie's ear. "Don't want him finishing too fast, would we? And besides... You're our guest."

"Y-Yes," Will chirps, invigorated by the idea of the attention leaving him. Leon looks him over, trying to determine if it's that the attention is unwanted or simply overwhelming. He can't discern, and so instead he fixates his attention back to Wesker behind him and the order he was given.

"Oh, okay," He smiles uncertaintly back at his captain, but follows the order. Slowly, he pulls his hand away from Birkin's weeping length and—after the man moves out from under him, a sly hand running to readjust his cock, Leon falls back onto the bed, quickly taking Will's place.

He realizes, then, just how intimidating it must have been for Will to be under both him and Wesker. When he looks up, he immediately feels overwhelmed by the two sets of eyes gazing back down at him. He's still in his binder and loosely unfastened pants, but he feels as if he were totally naked with the way Wesker consumes him. Will seems just as eager to get a taste of Leon, but he doesn't hold that predatory gaze that Wesker so naturally exudes.

"If Leon is feeling up for it," Wesker starts before turning his eyes to Birkin, eyes half-lidded and devious, "Perhaps, you could be the first to lay him."

The prospect turns Leon on more than he'd like to admit, the idea of Birkin being the one on top of him, fucking him. Though, he'd been keen on seeing just what Wesker's packing–-especially considering the fact he'd done this whole thing with Wesker in mind in the first place–-he finds himself growing more and more fond for Will's companionship throughout it all.

Where Wesker's intimidating and dark and experienced in ways Leon can only imagine, Birkin seems just as awkwardly unsituated with intercourse as he is. He flushes just as easily as Leon, fidgets and teems with uncertainty as each minute between them passes. And yet, when Wesker suggests it–-despite Birkin's prior nervousness–-he seems completely on board with it.

Wesker balances them both out, brings a sense of calm and control to the situation so it doesn't completely devolve out of hand. He's the director for them, playing each scene out as he sees fit and lending a hand when he finds it necessary to do so. Leon admires him, hopes that one day he, too, can teem with confidence like that.

For the time being, though, he's glad to take Wesker's guiding hand.

"Yes," Leon speaks, breathy and needy. "But–-" He glances at Wesker. "What about you, Sir?"

Wesker huffs humorously. "Don't worry about me, I get more than enough satisfaction seeing how you two get along." He tilts his head before–-with a curious moment of thought–-he eases Leon up from where he'd been laying back, bringing him face to face with Birkin once more. He slips behind him with some awkward bumps and a lack of grace. When Leon leans back again, he's dwarfed by Wesker's frame. The man presses his hands to Leon's chest and then drags those fingers down to his hips, thumbing at the band of his underwear peeking up from his jeans.

"Undress him, would you, dear?" Wesker purrs from over Leon's shoulder. Leon knows the dear had been meant for Will, but he can't help but shiver by the name anyways, wondering if–-someday—that term could be reserved for both him and Will.

It's a stupid thought. He discards it in favor of Will's fingers hungrily grasping at Leon's pants, tugging down his pants with vigor he hadn't seen before. He's needy for it, desperate to see what Leon holds for him. Leon, gratefully, lets him take what he needs. He lifts his hips and watches with attentive eyes as Will pulls his jeans down his frame alongside his underwear in one quick move. The fabric rolls down Leon's thighs, tilting at the bend of his knee, and finally makes its way off his feet—crumpling uselessly to the floor wherever Birkin decides he wants to throw it.

Leon's exposed, then. It's a feeling he's not entirely used to, especially not under two sets of prying eyes, but it's erotic in its own way. The vulnerability of it makes him uncomfortable, but he trusts Wesker and Birkin enough with it, especially considering the fact it's not the sight most would expect.

"Fuck," Birkin breathes, swallowing down the sight of Leon. Leon flushes, leaning back further into Wesker as if looking for some comfort. He, however, recieves none. The S.T.A.R.S. captain responds not with a gentle embrace but, intead, with his fingers slinking down to Leon's cunt and spreading the sight open, allowing Birkin a better look at his proding, twitching t-dick and his entrance, drooling with wetness. "You're... Fuck..."

Leon flushes even harder, hiding his face away in Wesker's chest now. Despite his initial worry that he'd be forced to look, Wesker coddles his anxiety. His right hand tucks itself into Leon's blond hair and strokes at his scalp gently–-carefully. It's comforting and warming and undeniably safe. Wesker's the last person he expected to feel safe in the arms of, but he does.

"You're already soaked for us, Kennedy," Wesker comments in a purr directly into Leon's ear. "Are you that excited to be the center of attention?"

"I-" Leon starts, but he trails off into a whine when a finger—he isn't sure if it's Wesker or Birkin's–-begins to stroke over his exposed glans, a singular thumb dragging over the sensitive nerves. It's not necessarily pleasurable, but he doubts the owner of the digit knows that. His hips jerk and his thighs tense of a mixture of hot pleasure-pain courses up his hips and throughout that sensitive little bud.

"Your growth is exceptional, Leon," Birkin murmurs from across from him. He speaks like a scientist as he takes in Leon's genitalia, and Leon doesn't know if he should be offended, flattered, or aroused by that prospect. "You're sensitive, too, aren't you? Incredible how the nerves grow so flawlessly with the rest of the tissue..."

Something high and desperate leaves Leon's throat. "P-Please, Will-" He doesn't know if he's begging him to stop, keep going, or just fuck him already. Will takes it as the latter.

"I know," He murmurs, his hand reaching down for his cock. He's still mostly clothed. His dress shirt hangs from his arms, unbuttoned in the front, and his jeans  still rest mostly up his hips, only having fallen down slightly. When Leon watches him ease himself forward, eager to line up with his sopping entrance, he realizes that he doesn't plan on undressing himself any further.

"You're not a virgin, are you, Leon?" Wesker asks from behind the rookie, still spreading Leon open, as if he were an object, something to inpect and study. Something to be held in place while Will lines himself up. Leon decides he likes that feeling too much.

"N-No, Sir," Leon breathes, his hands coming to knot at the sheets as he turns his face back fully to look at Will and where his cock lines up with Leon's entrance.

His length is hot against him, precum drools from his tip as he drags his thick member up against his cock, like frottage, before it returns back down to Leon's entrance, circling him with unpracticed cautiousness.

"Perhaps, we should use a condom, Will?" Wesker suggests. Leon feels a stab of offense to that, his face screwing up and brows furrowing–-not at the prospect of using a condom, but at the prospect of Wesker saying that just after he mentioned not being a virgin.

"Shit," Will breathes, realizing his mistake. He looks to Wesker as if searching for where they'd keep them, but Wesker's prepared. He reaches over to the bedside drawer on Leon's left. For a moment, as the wooden container opens, Leon's allowed a second's glance at the objects inside. A bottle of lube, a dildo, a vibrator and remote–-just to name a few. Wesker grabs the roll of condoms and sets them on the table before he shuts the door. Leon can't get his mind off the assortment of toys, wondering if they'll be used on him at any point, and then wondering if it's selfish to wish for that.

Wesker rips one of the condoms off and hands it off to Birkin who quickly unwraps the rubber. Leon watches on in admiration as he rolls the item down his cock with great struggle. It's as if he's never done it before–-or just doesn't have the practice for it. He supposes Wesker and Birkin have been exclusive long enough...

Finally, once the scientist gets the condom down his shaft, he lines himself up again–- eager to get himself inside of Leon and fuck him properly. Leon's just as eager. They've waited long enough. Between the initial foreplay, the oral, and now Birkin struggling for a whole minute to get a rubber down his cock, he's ready. He's been ready. He's been wet from the moment he entered the house.

"Okay," Birkin breathes, more to himself than anything. It's like a second to gather his wits and try to prepare himself for the act he's about to commit. Leon finds it endearing, the idea that Will has to hype himself up to be able to do something like this. He's so undeniably awkward and Leon adores it.

The rookie spreads his legs further, his cunt still on full display by Wesker's fingers. Birkin lines himself up, and–-the moment Leon takes in a breath to prepare himself, too–-the man glides in.

He's thick–- God , is he thick. He'd known it as he'd felt it in his mouth, but he hadn't fully realized until now. He feels different in his cunt than Leon had thought he'd feel, the stretch is enjoyable, though. Euphoric. He tilts his head back and breathes through his nose as his entrance burns so perfectly. He wonders, momentarily, if they'll need lube to get him through it. However, after Birkin reaches on to the thickest part and finally bottoms out, Leon realizes he really doesn't need it. If anyhting, he enjoys the burn that comes with it.

Birkin bottoms out disappointingly quickly, but Leon blames that on his own selfishness and the fact he's had enough large cock in his life to make him pickier than he truly needs to be. He's always been a size queen–-Birkin isn't even necessarily small, he's average at most. Still, a part of Leon really wishes that he'd keep going, that he'd bottom out with his head fit graciously against his cervix, threatening to beat it in.

Leon's been spoiled his whole life. He chastises himself for wishing for more. Even though Leon's less than impressed with Birkin's length, it's still more than enough for him to groan as the man bottoms out. He presses himself so close to Leon that he can smell the wine on his breath. He looks up at him and, without a second thought, he pushes himself forward and attaches their lips, eyes shut and hands grasping for him, one curling around the back of his neck, the other dragging down his chest, to the curve of his ribs, and finally meeting Wesker's hand at his cock. He worms his digits under his captain's hand to idly push at his cock, circling the little bundle of nerves in desperation for some extra stimulation.

"Fuck," Birkin breathes. His voice cracks through the curse, unpracticed and needy. "You're so..." He kisses Leon again before he breathes the word. "Tight."

"Isn't he?" Wesker purrs from over Leon's shoulder. When Will pulls away from Leon's lips again, he instead attaches them to Wesker's in a deep, sultry kiss. The sight alone makes Leon clench around Will, eyes wide and enamored by the sight of the two of them.

Where Will kisses Leon tenderly, he kisses Wesker with passion. There's a fire behind each press of their lips, teeth idly gnawing at each other's lips like the last ruins of hatred broken down and left behind for Leon to discover. He doesn't know how long their relationship's been going on, he doesn't know anything about how their relationship with each other works, but as he witnesses the fruits of years of trust ripening and growing, he feels a strong urge to learn.

He wants to press his own lips to theirs, join in one whatever they've got going on, but he decides against it. Maybe another time. The thought's appealing to him. But, they have plenty of time together. This, he knows.

Birkin leans back again, straightening out his form to watch his cock throb deep inside of Leon before he pulls himself back out in a slow, gentle motion—testing the tightness of the rookie's cunt, exploring what he can. Wesker's fingers, though they'd been anchored to either side of Leon's vulva, move away. Leon watches, hand on his dick, as Wesker moves his hands down to the bottoms of Leon's thighs and pulls his limbs up toward his chest, nearly bending him in half, legs spread so he can still fully see Will from between them.

This time when Will pushes in again–-a hand pillared against the bedframe and another digging keratin crescents into Leon's hip—Leon does feel it against his cervix. He pushes in and adds a decent amount of pressure to his back wall, just as he likes it. Leon moans into it, eyes shutting with bliss and mouth open in a slim, satisfactory smile.

"That's better, isn't it?" Wesker inquires, his thumb stroking the flesh of Leon's toned thighs. Not a thought resides in the rookie's head—he's so happy being stuffed full with a man behind him, another in front, teasing his limits, easing him through the intimacy of two people on him–-but he still manages to nod in reply.

"G-God, yeah–-" Leon manages, strained. He keeps his middle and ring fingers on his cock, rubbing back and forth over the sensitive member as Will slowly pulls back out and then pushes right back in again, bottoming out in one, brutal thrust. He keens into the sensation, head thrown back, spine arching up, and legs trembling on either side of Will's torso. "Oh, God-"

Will, despite all the talk he'd had earlier, keeps quiet as he fucks Leon for the most part. All of his best noises, though, come through his broken shudders, his breathy whines, the rutting of his hips crescendoing in desperation. With each thrust that he shoots into Leon's body, the scientist realizes how much more he wants, how desperately he wants to fuck Leon into the mattress and stroke himself through his orgasm. He's so pent up–-Leon swears he'd almost cum when he'd been sucking him off earlier. He knows the scientist needs more, he knwos he's craving more, and, he's eager to provide that more.

Leon, with his fingers still working at his cock in a soft pace, turns his eyes up to Will, wondering if there's something he can say, something he can do to encourage him. The man looks down at him with parted lips and half-lidded eyes, like a dog in heat chasing his own high. His pace, where it had been slow and sensual, has quickly picked up the pace as he realizes just how good it feels to fuck Leon.

"William hasn't been able to fuck anyone for a long while, now, have you?" Wesker murmurs, quickly taking the initiative that Leon's too nervous to.

Will whines, shaking his head. Leon, somehow, finds that even hotter. The idea that Will's been so needy for this for so long and only now–-with someone else–-gets the relief he's so eagerly sought out. Leon feels it, too. It's been a long while since he's been fucked. With the way Wesker folds him in half and spreads him open and how Birkin manages to hit both his g-spot and his cervix with that perfect curve to his cock each time drives him crazy.

"You feel good, Will," Leon says, trying to find something to contribute to the convesration through his half-certain, foggy mind. He tries to think of something to say relating to him not having fucked in a long while, but the words die on his tongue.

Wesker quickly picks up where Leon left off, but turns the attention to Leon this time. Once again, he's conducting, directing, orchestrating. He builds off of whatever Will and Leon are making of each other and using their energy for the pleasure of them all.

"Tell him," Wesker purrs. "How good it feels, tell him."

"It's good," Leon breathes again. Each piece of praise Leon offers up to Will, the man drinks down without thought or care for moderation. He whines as Leon leans up a little further, wraps his hands around Will's shoulders and looks him in the eye, continuing. "F-Feel so good inside of me, Will. It's–- haah —you're so deep and-" He isn't sure how to compliment someone who really isn't all that impressive. But, he tries his best. "God, your—your cock."

Will moans when Leon says that, like it's a word that's never left the rookie's tongue before, like he's never heard something of the sort before.

"You don't have to lie," Wesker chuckles from behind Leon, as if he could read the man's mind, as if he knows he's not really that deep. "The thing about William is..." He hums. Leon watches as the two of them make eye contact—Will's sweating profusely, mouth open, brows high on his face, little whimpers and whines escaping his throat like he's more of a bottom than a top to begin with but just wanted to stick his dick into something.

"The thing about William, is that he's spent his whole life being told how perfect he is," Wesker says. "Isn't that right?"

Will gets that look on his face, that look of shame and humility. Embarassment. It's the same look Leon saw when Wesker had first brought up the fact they were in a relationship, he saw it again earlier when Leon had been sucking the man off. But Leon can actually feel the effect it has on him now. His thrusts grow erratic, his cock twitching in anticipation for what Wesker's going to say.

"Sometimes, he needs to be put in his place. Not terribly, but..." Wesker grabs Will's jaw and Will keens, his thighs trembling, his cock twitching inside of Leon. "Maybe, he's not all that great, Leon. He's just less than average, he doesn't have the stamina that much of my men do–-I'm sure you have greater stamina than he does, Leon. I mean... look at him, he's already falling apart–-"

" Al–- " Will says the man's nickname with such exasperated humiliation that Leon wonders if he'll end up crying then and there. He weeps it with such emotion that Leon can't help but find it almost... cute.

"What, it's true, is it not, Will?" Wesker holds his jaw tighter, Leon can see the way his fingers dig in, leaving little indents into the hollow of his cheeks. "I'm quite sure that the moment I get a turn with Leon, he'll be much more impressed, hm? I mean look at him, he's hardly even moaning for you. My fingers did more for him than—"

"Al!" Will keens so highly, with such vigor and desperate humiliation that Leon genuinely begins to worry for him.

"-your cock is now. Curious, isn't it?"

Birkin fucks Leon with everything he's got through those last few words, sobbing and whining like a bitch in heat. He fucks carelessly for Leon's pleasure, but fully for his own. Leon strokes himself through it, two fingers still working his cock over, trying to get himself through that high, but even folded in half, Will's cock digging into his g-spot and his cervix all in one, he can't get there. He doesn't have enough time before Will cries and slumps uselessly upon Leon, his thighs thick with tremors, his chest heaving, his voice cracking and breaking in pathetic arousal.

Leon, realizes, then, that he's already cum. He came the moment Wesker had mentioned his fingers. The  rookie blinks a few times, looking from Will's exhausted face, then tilting his gaze toward Wesker to note the pride written into his features.

Humiliation. That's what gets Will off. Humiliation and degradation. Leon's an audience here to Will's own demise, and he's speechless to the prospect of it. He's never had much experience with it all, has only delved into a few kinks here and there. Dirty talk usually consists of praise— Your cock is so big, you feel so good inside of me, fuck me harder —but never anything like this. Never insults and blatant truths.

Leon's simultaneously confused and interested.

"Apologies for that," Wesker murmurs, as if understanding how out of the blue the whole situation was. No negotiation beforehand, not even so much as a check in from Leon. The man doesn't mind at all, though. He was less involved and more of a spectator as Wesker had pulled Birkin apart with nothing more than his words–-flayed him open and vulnerable for a complete stranger to look at, all his insides on display to gawk and jeer at.

Leon doesn't gawk and jeer, though. If anything, he's simply fascinated by how well Wesker knows Brikin, to know exactly what buttons to push, to know where to jab without going too far into him. He exhales shakily and—without a second thought, he leans forward and kisses Birkin. A reassurance. A seal to the letter. Birkin, though still at first in shock, kisses back quickly, whining into the kiss, eager to taste every last bit of Leon's thoughts before the rookie pulls away, breathy.

"I don't mind," Leon finally says, turning his eyes from Will to Wesker. He isn't sure where to push, isn't sure if he should keep going now that Birkin's come—but... he's still left unsatisfied. And even though Wesker said he'd be more than happy to simply watch him and Will go at it...

Leon clears his throat, taking in Wesker's shaded eyes. He's still wearing his glasses despite everything. "Maybe..." He risks a glance back to Will who's slowly easing his sluggish body back up from Leon—arms shaky and teeming with exhaustion. "Maybe, you... you should fuck me..." He looks back up at Wesker, dipping his toes into the water when he continues. "Show Will how... how it's done?"

Simultaneously, Wesker smiles at Leon and William whines again from before them both. Leon takes it as a win.

"Perhaps, I will have to." Wesker returns his hand to Will's chin, dragging the man's face up from where he's still heaving with exhaustion. Their eyes meet and Leon senses something desperate and tired within Will. From within those baby blues, though, he notes something else—teeming with excitement, euphoria. Leon savors that look.

“Please,” Will breathes. Leon doesn’t know what he’s begging for. Wesker seems to understand, though, and he watches with wide eyed excitement as the S.T.A.R.S. captain pushes Will aside, causing him to slip out without second thought. Leon eyes the condom for just a moment before the scientist peels it from his cock and Wesker grabs his own.

Will’s the one to unbuckle Wesker’s pants as he readies himself, peeling the rubber from the packaging with his teeth tearing the aluminum. Leon can only look on with wide, aroused eyes as Birkin works at Wesker’s belt, his hands working seamlessly to pull the leather apart. From under the tight pull of the fastening, Leon notices Wesker’s cock, throbbing and hard against his dress pants, tenting drastically.

Will pulls down his belt, pushes past the fabric, and out pops Wesker—fully exposed for Leon’s massive eyes.

He’s long and thick , just as he’d hoped. He’s got the size to back up his silent stature, a flushed pink, cut head, drooling with precum, veins prominent and bulging from his shaft, and the entire length throbbing with need. Leon sucks the drool from under his tongue, desperate to keep his dignity about him despite the fact that he can hardly focus on anything but just how pleasing Wesker is to look at in that moment.

“Holy…” Leon breathes. His reaction alone coaxes another painful throb from Birkin’s own, messy cock, but the scientist pays it no mind, tucking himself away into his underwear with the condom discarded. Hesitantly, and with uncertainty as to where to place himself in the situation, he settles into Leon’s side, eyes glued to Wesker’s length just as adamantly as Leon’s are.

Nobody speaks as Wesker eases the rubber down his cock with practiced ease, but Will does grab Leon’s thigh, desperate to see how the man falls apart when put into the exact same positioning as he was when Will had been topping. Leon, through it all, is just happy to have so much attention on him—to not only get stuffed with Will, but then Wesker directly after. His t-dick throbs proudly, dazed and needy for affection. Leon starts a pace on it again, eager to feel Wesker stretch him out properly.

Wesker leans over Leon, Birkin keeps that high up high and Leon holds the other, eyes glued to where his captain drags his cock over his slit, dwarfing the entirety of it in his massive length. He doesn’t so much as give Leon a warning before he slips in, without an ounce of friction or fight.

Leon takes him well, moans as he fills him up so perfectly. Birkin was thicker, but Wesker’s deeper , reaching so far that he presses against his back wall and—when he tries to push further—Leon keens with pain, back arching and claws gripping into the mattress.

This will be the death of him. He wonders, for a moment, if Wesker would be able to cave his cervix in completely by the wrath of his hips and cock. It seems like an absurd thought, but with just how hard Wesker presses into him, he fears.

“He’s a lot, isn’t he?” Birkin asks from beside Leon. He doesn’t have the same casualty that Wesker does when he speaks—he speaks from genuine experience and not from a point of trying to turn Leon on. But, it feels less like a performance in that way and the rookie appreciates it.

“Y-Yeah,” Leon breathes, his legs already trembling between the exertion of being held up for so long and by Wesker slowly pulling out again. When the captain thrusts once more inside of him, Leon cries, head tilted back, mouth open, gasping for reprieve from the extreme sensations. Birkin eases him as much as he can, running his fingers across Leon’s chest and down to his cock, replacing his pliant, frozen hand with his own while his other arm wraps around Leon’s back, a gentle anchor as the man cries out again with another thrust. “O-Oh, God, S-Sir —”

“You’re right when you said he’s tight, Will,” Wesker murmurs, dragging his hips back against to cant them forward right into Leon’s cervix. “And wet.”

“Isn’t he?” Will pines from beside Leon. He turns his attention from Wesker back to Leon, drinking in his overwhelmed, blissed face. His lip tucked between his teeth, his brows screwed tight, his brows high on his face. As Wesker starts an actual pace on him, something moderate to warm them both into it, that expression turns into nothing but braindead bliss.

“O-Oh, G-God, f… S-Sir,” Leon starts, shoving a hand in his mouth to cover his whines, the other only drawing his thigh up further, as if asking Wesker to hurt him by pushing deeper. When Wesker obeys the request, slams his whole weight into a thrust, he sobs , tears teeming in his eyes. “A-Ah— Wesker —”

Despite his initial uncertainty about Wesker’s length and just how good it would feel, Leon finds himself changing his mind. It hurts, yes, but God , does it fill him with pleasure. Wesker thrusts into him and with the constant stimulation of his g-spot through each thrust, that pain only turns into more pleasure. Intense, ripe, fiery pleasure, burning up his gut, into his chest, following Will’s hands as they dance across his body leaving hellfire blaze in their wake.

Wesker’s all but silent as he fucks Leon, but the cop under him does all the singing he needs to. Between the rocking of the bed, the slapping of Wesker’s hips against Leon’s, the jingling of his belt flopping about aimlessly, and Leon crying and sobbing like he’s dying , the room is far from quiet. They’re making their own orchestra and once again—Wesker’s conducting the rhythm, pushing Leon through beat after beat as he strokes himself, taking back over from where Birkin’s hand has abandoned him.

“G—Ngh— W-Wesker , oh, God, W-Fuck—” Leon can’t produce so much as a whole word as Wesker wrecks his insides, pushing in all the right places to make the man melt. He’s ruthless and careless for Leon’s wellbeing, using him like he’s nothing more than a toy and Leon adores every second of it, grasping for purchase, his hands not staying still for more than a second before he’s grabbing onto something else. Tears fall from his eyes, his thighs ache with exertion, and—just as Leon reaches the edge of his orgasm—Wesker leans forward and pulls him close, biting into his shoulder.

Leon screams . The sound echoes off the walls, pulses through Will’s ears with satisfactory glee. Alongside the scream comes the remarkable squelch of Leon’s cunt as he spasms and climaxes over Wesker’s cock, soaking the man in his squirt even as the man continues to fuck him, pounding him mercilessly into the bed, making his body his own and claiming him in such a way that nobody else could.

Will keeps a hand in Leon’s hair as he comes, the other still holding his thigh in place and—with Wesker leaning over one side of his head—Will leans over the other, pressing kiss after kiss into the man’s neck and cheek. Leon chokes through it, sobbing and moaning with each continued thrust that Wesker forces through his body. He’s oversensitive, the afterglow of his orgasm still ripe in his gut even as Wesker seems to want to attempt to work him through another.

Thankfully—to the relief of Leon, at least—Wesker doesn’t last too much longer before he, too, comes crashing over the edge. He grunts and moans in deep, husky sounds, reverberating from deep in his chest as he cums, spilling through the condom. They both think, in that moment, of how badly they wish the condom were gone. But, Leon knows better. They both know better. He considers going on birth control soon, if only to feel both of their cum inside him. The thought alone causes him to groan with arousal.

Wesker pushes himself through the last of his orgasm, milking himself for all he’s got into Leon before—defeated and disgusted with the aftermath of it all—he pulls himself out and tugs off the condom. Swiftly and without want for keeping it on longer than he must. He feels disgusting in it, after all.

With Wesker leaning up on his knees, fully pulled out of an overstimulated, sweaty Leon, and Birkin beside Leon still pressing lazy, half-hearted kisses against his throat, they all sit in the aftermath of it.

Leon feels like it all went by so fast, even as he lays there recuperating from the intense orgasm. Birkin had been in and out in just a few minutes, not having lasted long at all. While Wesker had more stamina to him, it had felt like such bliss that it had gone by fast. He’d savored every moment and still, he yearns for more. But, he knows better. Wesker’s exhausted, Birkin’s just as so, and he’s far too sore to take more. He can feel his lower gut cramping from the way Wesker had so ruthlessly beaten his back wall in. He doesn’t need more after all that.

As he lays there, a panting, sweaty mess, his eyes linger upon Wesker—who’s wiping his face with his dress shirt, and then to Birkin—who still lays beside him, now resting his head gently into the curve of Leon’s shoulder, he feels like he… belongs here. He feels… happy here. Tired and sweaty and disgusting, but content nonetheless with it all. He smiles as he looks over to Birkin, pressing a salty kiss to his lips, and then leans forward to press one to Wesker’s lips, too. It’s only then that he realizes he hasn’t yet kissed Wesker. But, the man leans into it anyways, though a bit surprised by the act. When the captain kisses back, it’s half-hearted. There’s a small nibble to Leon lower lip before Leon pulls back again, slumping into the bed.

“Well…” Leon starts, a gleeful smile upon his ripe red cheeks. “What… What now?”

Wesker hums, thoughtfully. “I’m going to shower. You two are welcome to join me, but don’t feel rushed.” He runs his fingers through his hair which has begun to fall out of its strong gel. A few strands curl down over his forehead, getting into his face and over his glasses. Even through it all, he hadn’t taken off his glasses once. Just as Leon’s about to make a comment on it, he finally does—plucking the shades from the bridge of his nose to lean over Leon and tuck them onto the bedside drawer.

“I’d kill for a shower right now,” Leon chimes, finally leaning up, invigorated. Birkin grunts from beside them both, still winded from the sex.

He shuts his eyes, sleepily into the blankets and waves his hand dismissively. “Go on without me. I’ll take one later.” He stretches long and wide before he turns over in bed, snorting. “I think I’ll be going to bed for the night.”

“What?” Leon frowns, “It’s only—” He pauses, turning his eyes back to the clock on the bedside table. 9:50. “Oh.”

“It’s alright, William usually sleeps right after.” Wesker presses his hand to Leon’s arm, something surprisingly chaste and gentle before he slinks out of bed, shedding himself of his pants and shirt. “You’re welcome to join me alone if you’d like to.”

Leon, eyes widening as they pass over Wesker’s body, from his toned muscles to the tight curve of his ass and onward to his thick thighs, nods. “Uh… Yeah, alright.”

He, too, stands. With one last small glance to Will who already looks as if he’s on the verge of completely passing out for the night, he turns back toward Wesker.

It’s domestic and surprisingly sweet for two men he’s only grown involved with for a week now, but it feels… right to him. As if this is exactly what he wants. Exactly what he needs. He doesn’t know how long this will last, but he finds himself hoping it’s a long while, because this feels like the happiest he’s been in a long while.

Wesker casts Leon one last glance before he leads him to the bathroom. The rookie follows without question, without hesitation. Obedient and docile.