For the sake of professionalism, Leon can throw up a wall of neutrality, but not now, not with him. Not with his lashes still sticky from a rare display of raw hurt, not with his body humming with an achingly familiar desire, not when he's so willing to drown himself in the memory of a time when things were still complicated but less contentious.

There's no comfort taken in the look Krauser gives him; Leon's susceptible to it, it makes him aware of the hole left, first by his sudden and unexplained absence in Leon's life, second by his betrayal and subsequent death at Leon's own hands. His hands greedily thread through his slicked-back hair, curling around his nape and the defined line of his jaw.

"Yeah," he rumbles, "Like that," Leon's head tips back slightly as his eyes flutter shut, losing himself for a moment in the reminder of how talented Krauser had been with his mouth, his hands, "Just like you showed me."

Leon's chin drops towards his collarbone when Krauser's strong fingers feel up the backs of his thighs and grope at him in that way that used to send all the heat racing in two directions, to his face like a fever, to his cock, hilting into Krauser's scarred mouth. It's been long enough that Krauser almost chokes, and Leon leans down, gentling his hands over his jaw and throat, hips backing up enough to get a look — more checking-in than checking-out — nodding when he spies the expression of his smirk, his spit-slick cock against his cheek.

"Fuck," punches out of Leon, the reflexive concern made him feel a fool, even if the look on Krauser's face, his eagerness, makes Leon prickle with heat, makes his skin pinch up with goosebumps despite the humidity. His fingers curl against his scalp and the other hand takes his cock by the base, smacking the swollen girth against his cheek before he allows Krauser to swallow it down, a full-chested groan his reward for the shuddery swallow.

"God damn, you were always so good at this."