Yeah. That's right. Just like he showed him... He was always good at this... Got a lot of practice in, back in those days. Those secret, stolen moments when they took shelter in each other, respite from the miserable world of violence and pain they lived in. Leon, because he was trapped there. Jack, because he belonged there, never suitable for anything else. Some of those nights, taking out their anger and frustration on each other, transmuting them into pleasure and comfort-- they were the closest he'd ever come to believing, perhaps, that maybe he could have something else. That maybe he and Leon both deserved something better.

It wasn't true, of course. Violence and pain went on to break him, and Leon kept going on strong. Stronger than his old Major, in any case.

Leon's touches are sweet reminders, stroking through his hair, along his jaw. The kind brush of fingers over his throat when he chokes hurts like a fucking slap. He has to close his eyes for a moment to hold back a swell of emotion, wet heat prickling treacherously under his lids. He shakes it off by pushing himself even harder. Throats him again, longer, deeper. As he fights to catch his breath in between, his ravaged voice growls with exertion and eagerness both.

After the third, he lets Leon slip out of his mouth, slaps his wet length against his own cheek again, harshly chuckling under his breath. His finger slides fully inside him, curling, then once he finds the firm swell of his prostate, mercilessly grinding a circle.

"Like it was yesterday." Krauser looks practically nostalgic, nuzzling Leon's soaked cock across his face as he fingers him. "You and your perfect fucking body. Always so game for me." Caught up in the moment, pushing a second finger inside him, he's not thinking about the words spilling out of him at this point. "Fuck... you look so good right now..."