Chapter Text
Zeno was lurking. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he usually tried to be mostly honest with himself. Usually.
This realm (realms?) was strange. Finding himself in the fog, wandering, stumbling out into weird landscapes.. It was an unexpected and shocking experience. Offputting. Unbalancing. More of a shock was seeing people he recognized.
Leon Kennedy chiefly among them, but he knew of the others, even if he hadn't dealt with most of them personally. Jill, Rebecca, Chris, Claire, Carlos, Ada..
Albert Wesker.
He knew all about Wesker. Gideon could never shut up about him and the things Zeno supposedly had to do and accomplish to even begin to rival his greatness. Like he'd been speaking about a god.
What an unfortunate twist, now that they were both in the same time and space, that Wesker wanted little to do with him. Zeno thought they'd be.. maybe not friends, but close in some shared past sort of way. Perhaps discuss genetics, the program, how irritating incompetent help could be. Or agents that meddled in affairs that were beyond them.
Instead he was brushed off. Dismissed out of hand. And Wesker gave all of his attention to some.. mongrel. A cowboy.
A cowboy he was currently watching Wesker with from behind one of the weathered buildings near the Saloon. Lurking.
Caleb, the Deathslinger as he was apparently called here, definitely compensating in Zeno's opinion, was nearly fully dressed, long, black coat swept back slightly, swaying with the motions of his hips. It didn't disguise what they were doing, but instead drew attention to it. Even the man's hat was still on, angled down to betray his line of sight, even while shading his eyes.
Like his coat, the dark material of his clothes highlighted the way his pants were open at the front, pushed down only enough to free his erection, small flashes of pale skin that seemed somehow more revealing than if he'd actually removed clothing.
Wesker, in contrast, was almost completely bare, his signature jacket and shirt off and draped over a beam carelessly, his pants shoved down to mid-thigh. Zeno couldn't help sweeping his gaze over all that skin. Smooth. Lean. Unmarked. It made something tighten inside of Zeno to see him this way, like his armor had been removed.
Wesker's hands, bare, strong, were pressed against the faded wood of a wall in their chosen corner, his back arched just so, feet set apart to make room for Caleb, body rocking slightly with their shared motions. Zeno was just close enough to hear the sounds they made, soft grunts and low groans from Wesker, rough intakes of breath, low cursing from Caleb.
It echoed around in his head, like there were no other sounds in the world, just a symphony of stolen pleasure that left him feeling jittery and too warm, like when they'd been trying to increase his powers without doing so much damage to his body that he couldn't heal from it.
He watched, feeling slightly guilty but transfixed as Caleb leaned closer, hips never slowing, to press a kiss to Wesker's shoulder blade, voice low and rough and barely audible.
“Don't hold back, now.”
Wesker's head had been bowed between his arms but he lifted it at those words, mouth opening, likely to say something cutting. He never got the chance.
One of Caleb's hands moved from Wesker's hip, slipping inwards, up to trail over his chest, then down again, pressing tight, flat against his lower belly, just above his bobbing cock. Zeno could tell it was a firm touch, strong enough to pull Wesker back a little more. It somehow made Wesker arch a bit sharper, the angle of his hips changing slightly and the sound that fell from his lips started high and then fell to a low ‘uungh’ that made Zeno's face heat.
Wesker's eyes fluttered closed, his lips staying parted but softening into an ‘o’, his head tipped back and Caleb chuckled, low and pleased.
“There ya go, Redeyes.”
Zeno swallowed thickly, hearing the affection in those words, the undercurrent that they hid with barbs and bickering laid bare. Unconsciously, he pressed his hand against his belly, low, mirroring the position of Caleb's and felt the tension that had been growing in his body suddenly narrow to a point, aching under his hand in a way that made him dizzy.
He must have gasped, or made some small noise, because when he refocused, he found himself pinned by silver eyes, freezing like a rodent found by a cat.
Caleb smirked, sharp, flashing teeth, and Zeno could only watch as he leaned in, speaking low against Wesker's ear. He expected to see those red eyes open, to be caught completely. Instead Wesker tipped his head back farther, turned slightly, a twist that let Caleb catch his lips. Zeno could hear the soft moans muffled between them, clearly sparked by the press of lips and he finally unfroze, a hand flying to his own mouth to smother any more treacherous gasps.
Even half curled around Wesker, hips rocking steadily against him, Zeno caught the flash of silver, one eye finding him again, driving the point home harder than his hips that he knew. Saw. With wide, wild black-golden eyes and clothing that felt too tight and rough against his skin, Zeno fled.
~*~
Zeno was slumped at a Saloon table, nothing like his usual proper posture, a short glass in his gloved hand. His wrist flexing, he swirled it slowly, eyes fixed on the shifting amber liquid held inside, his sunglasses folded on the table. The liquor was a shade darker than his glowing irises, rich and smoky. Better than he expected. He supposed the entity wanted to keep its pets happy so they'd perform their tricks, feed it.
He was sat back towards one corner, wanting to avoid company. So of course, company found him instead.
The Ghost Face slipped up in that silent way of his, helping himself to a chair at Zeno's table, a glass with some fruity monstrosity, complete with little umbrella and straw, in his hand. His mask was firmly in place but the straw touched the black of the painted mouth and the liquid somehow moved up the straw.
“I don't see you drinking much. I mean, you're newer and all so what the fuck do I know, but you look..” He trailed off, then waved a hand in a way that was apparently supposed to mean something. “All downtrodden.”
Zeno was surprised that the man knew a word like that. He didn’t say so, of course. He didn't actually know anything about him, other than his name, and that he'd learned from overhearing one of the Legion bounce on her toes and shyly call to him.
He could also recognize that his mood was making him extra critical of the man.
Lifting his glass, he took a long sip, sighing out the low burn of the alcohol after swallowing. He felt out of sorts. Like he'd been taken apart and put back together just slightly wrong. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
“I stumbled across something.. unpleasant.” He wasn't really in the mood to talk. But at the same time, holding it in felt worse.
“Oooo!” Ghost Face leaned forward like Zeno had some hot gossip and they were teenage girls. How his expressionless mask could convey excitement and intrigue, Zeno had no idea.
“What’d you see? Was it weird? Wait!” His voice dropped, speculative. “Was it the Bang Bros?”
“The- the who?”
“Slinger and Wesker. I think they think they're being subtle but they're definitely not. Or maybe they just don't care. Caleb probably doesn't. Wesker gets all prickly if you mention it.” Zeno didn't know how he knew the other man was rolling his eyes, but he did. “But I got chewed out for just calling him Albert, so. I told him he could call me Danny.” And now pouting.
Zeno rubbed his forehead. So this was a known.. situation. He didn't know if that made it better or not. His treacherous mind whispered to him, wondered how many others had seen. If they'd been seen. If silver eyes had- He tried to shove the thought away, only to see big hands moving over pale skin, sliding down and down-
Shaking his head more forcefully than necessary, he cast about desperately for a distraction.
“What does he call you?”
The Ghost Face, Danny, sat up straight, tipping his chin up, and affected some sort of nasal accent that wasn't the worst approximation of Wesker Zeno had heard.
“He doesn't deign to speak to me unless absolutely necessary.”
Despite his mood, Zeno couldn't help but crack a smile, looking down into his glass.
“That sounds about right.”
Apparently feeling that their camaraderie was secured, Danny leaned in again.
“So? That what you saw?”
Zeno sighed heavily. “Yeah.”
The grin somehow radiated off the cloaked man, cocktail inexplicably rising up the straw once more. “Fuckin hot, right? For old men.”
He sounded smug and Zeno cut his eyes over. “You know Wesker and I are technically the same age, right?”
Danny seemed unbothered, waving a hand. “You've both got that unnaturally ageless thing going on. Don't worry, I'm not kicking you out of bed.” Before Zeno could retort, Danny continued, redirecting his attention. “So what? They get you all hot’n bothered? You know you could just take care of that, right?” He made a motion with his hand, somehow suggestive in a way that made Zeno's stomach tighten. “Or better, find someone to lend a hand.” Those gloved fingers wiggled in a cheeky little wave.
Zeno understood why he didn't bother to take the mask off. Even he, not the most socially aware person, could read his moods and expressions, even with the barrier. Meanwhile, he hadn't even realized he'd wrinkled his own nose until Danny cocked his head.
“No?” Rather than sounding offended, he sounded intrigued. Like Zeno was a mystery to figure out. “Asexual? Don't worry if you are. Adiris is, though I think she'd like Taurie. We don't judge. Hell, I'm pretty sure Drac is fucking his twink son.”
This conversation had taken a left turn somewhere and was making Zeno consider things about himself that he didn't want to delve into. It had always been the work, before. The virus, the powers, an enemy, Elpis. A goal.
Now the only goal was to eliminate survivors in trials. No filler to occupy his mind. Just frustration, boredom. Confusion.
Realizing Danny was watching him in the creepily intent way he sometimes had, Zeno recalled himself to the present, falling back on stiffness and distance.
“I don't normally occupy myself with such trivialities.”
Rather than laugh it off and move on or huff in indignation and wander away like he'd hoped, Zeno felt the scrutiny intensify. It was nearly as fixated as the doctors that had raised him, shoving knowledge and expectations at him day after day. Pushing for him to learn faster, get stronger, be better.
He could sense the eyes on him suddenly go wide and felt dread creep over him.
“Oh. OH. Fuck. You've never-” Danny leaned forward, his voice going hushed. “You've never been with anyone before.” It wasn't a question.
Zeno's lips peeled back, baring teeth. He suddenly, desperately missed having his sunglasses on, to hide more of himself, to escape that too-knowing gaze that shouldn't have been able to see so much through so many layers of flesh and painted plastic.
Before he could speak, or even string together the words he wanted, Danny sat his drink down, waving his hands, talking fast.
“No, no, no. I'm not making fun of you. I just realized- you were probably raised in a lab, minimal contact unless it was necessary for training or learning, always coached to be- given the genetic process, you might not even be as old as you seem-” His hands were moving expressively. It was the most animated Zeno had ever seen him. And the most intelligent.
The assurance mollified him slightly but he still felt wrong-footed, like anything lacking in his experience was his own fault and not due to the exclusion of others making decisions for him.
“How do you know anything about the genetic process-” His tone was cutting, trying to regain some sense of control.
Danny's rambling cut off smoothly. “I was a reporter. Don't try to fuck with me.” Zeno felt like he'd made a tactical mistake, drawing the other man's full attention again. “Tell me I'm wrong.”
He wanted to. But he prided himself on not being a liar. Half truths, maybe, but never full lies. His silence spoke for him.
Danny leaned back in his chair, posture broadcasting his satisfaction and Zeno let himself breathe, to recognize the difference between satisfaction in simply finding information versus satisfaction in feeling superior.
“How much is right?”
Zeno's reply was reluctant and he looked at his glass rather than that all knowing mask, swirling what was left of his drink once more. Signing heavily, trying to relax his shoulders from the stiff, almost hunched defensive position they'd calcified into, he lifted the glass, downing the rest of the whiskey like a shot.
“Most of it. I was kept in the lab until my body was through adolescence, learning and training. Working on developing and controlling the powers they'd engineered into me. Which fucking sucked, but the reflexes are nice.” One good thing about the place; the alcohol was strong. Probably to keep up with many of the augmented and not-completely human people.
“Then it was searching. Trying to find Elips, deal with the Racoon City infection, destroy the BSAA operatives we found. Fucking Victor, always in my ear.”
“Ooo, you've got a mouth on you. I like that.” Danny was grinning, even if Zeno couldn't see it. “So no time for fun, basically. That's criminal. One of the best things about growing up is figuring out what you like. I think maybe you finally got a hint earlier, huh?”
There was a smugness to his voice that made Zeno flush.
“I know plenty of things that I like.” With his drink gone, he reached into his jacket, pulling out a cigarette and lighter, something to keep his hands busy.
“Mmhm. I'm not talking food, drink and the best way to take a zombie apart.” Scooping up his fruity concoction, Danny put the straw to his mask once more, sipping his drink. “I can always help you out. You know. If you need some pointers.”
Zeno's knee-jerk reaction was to say fuck no and insult most of Danny's ancestral line. That was what the demeaning little voice in his head encouraged. But that voice sounded like Gideon. Like Wesker.
But Viktor wasn't here. And Wesker was fucking the cowboy.
Settling the cigarette between his lips, Zeno flicked the lighter flame to life, set it to the end and took a deep drag to catch an ember, the cherry burning bright for a moment. It was bitter, smokey, but just enough nicotine to ease his nerves.
“I suppose you're some kind of expert.” The words came out with the smoke, a slow exhale that he'd hoped would give him an appearance of smooth sophistication. Like he didn't care that Danny was offering him something that made his face want to burn as bright as his cigarette.
Danny just draped one arm over the back of his chair, lifting his drink slightly in a mock toast. It was the posture of a man confident in his place in the world and his own skill. And strangely at odds yet fitting with the fruity drink. His expressionless mask exuded smug confidence.
“I've got four that'll vouch for me any time. And that smoke of yours? No cigarette tastes better than the one first thing in the morning… or right after sex.”
Zeno's next inhale caught and he nearly choked the smoke back out. So much for smooth.
“You have people just waiting around to sing your praises?” Zeno's inflection said he didn't believe it. Or didn't want to believe it.
Danny didn't change his position, just flicked the hand draped over the chair. A crow appeared, inky black, circled twice and then flew off, disappearing halfway to the window.
Zeno looked at the spot it had been, nonplused.
Danny beamed. “The entity loves me.”
Giving his cigarette a flick, Zeno let the ash fall to the floor. “Are we supposed to be waiting for someth-”
A new arrival to the Saloon drew Zeno's eye instinctively. They weren't the only people there, but their claimed corner was quiet. The newcomer angled towards it, hood up but face uncovered. He was pretty sure he knew who the young man was, younger than he expected, but the mask hanging from his belt confirmed the identity. One of the Legion.
He regarded Zeno with dark eyes but his path was unwavering, moving to Danny's side.
“You called?”
“Mm, I did.” Danny set his drink down on the table to curl an arm around the younger man's hips, hand slipping up a thigh, skillfully working its way under shirt and hoodie to find skin, giving Zeno a flash of colorful ink over pale belly. “Frank, you wanna let our new friend here know that when I say I'm good at what I do, I'm not bullshitting?”
His hand traveled inwards, splaying wide over the bit of stomach Zeno could see and more beyond, making it clear that he wasn't talking about killing.
Zeno watched them together, the familiar way they had. Comfortable. Danny's hand on Frank's skin, Frank leaning into him, a hand draping over a shoulder casually. Their connection was clear, as was the look in Frank's eyes when he looked down at that mask. Not soft exactly, but something close. Something that spoke of feeling lucky. The trope he'd always been told was shallow, unnecessary drivel spoken of by weak-willed fools.
The lab worker that had smuggled in the fairytale book had disappeared quickly, along with the book and life had quickly returned to lessons, experiments and training.
When those dark eyes shifted to Zeno, they sharpened, quick and assessing. His jaw worked, like he wanted to say something other than what Danny had requested, then finally, he cocked his head, looking down at Zeno. His arm tightened almost imperceptively around Danny's shoulder, the suggestion of possessiveness.
“Oh, he's good. All of him. Hands, mouth, dick, you name it.” Frank's face was carefully neutral. Zeno tried for the same, holding the other man's gaze but knew his cheeks were heating, as much as he fought it. And he knew the moment Frank noticed, a faint smirk appearing, the slightest flash of teeth. Like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“Real good with his dick.” Frank drawled the words, eyes glittering. “The kind of good that leaves your legs shaking. Makes your fingers knot up in the sheets.”
Danny's shoulders were shaking with nearly silent laughter and his hand shifted again, moving to Frank's hip, then his ass, his head tipping up to look at him.
“I think he gets the idea, Frank.”
Frank turned his attention back. “That all you wanted me for?”
“That’s never all I want you for.”
With a pleased grin, Frank leaned down, murmuring something soft and low near where Danny's ear was hidden, something that made his hand tighten on Frank's ass.
“Yeah, give me ten.”
Rather than pulling away completely, Frank slid a hand up, touching the side of Danny's mask, then, gripping it, carefully shifted it up and to the side until Danny's mouth was revealed, a wicked smirk curling those lips. Frank claimed a kiss, firm and hungry, longer, deeper than necessary, in Zeno's opinion.
He was caught, just like before, unable to look away, feeling the spark of interest, the ache of longing that he'd always managed to ignore or avoid.
When the kiss finally broke, Frank's breathing had quickened enough to make his chest rise and fall more noticeably, his fingertips skimming greedily over Danny's jaw. Danny's smirk had melted away, replaced by softly parted lips, flushed darker from the pressure.
“Ten.” Frank had to clear his throat, gently shifting the Ghost Face mask back into place, the motion speaking of hiding temptation rather than wanting to put it back.
“Ten,” Danny confirmed, voice a little lower, a little rougher.
With a sigh, Frank stepped back, freeing himself from Danny's hold, then, with a last glance towards Zeno, headed towards the door.
Danny chuckled. “He's jealous.”
Zeno realized that his cigarette was about to burn his fingers, forgotten between them, and quickly stubbed it out. He'd never stop berating himself if he marred his gloves.
“He doesn't have a reason to be.”
“Doesn't he?” Danny tilted his head, watched Zeno for a moment, then stood. “Could give him one. The offer stands. Just not today. I have an appointment.”
That grin was back and Zeno half hated that he knew it. Danny gave him a little wave, a wiggling of his fingers, then strode out, the strange straps attached to his arms floating through the air as if it were water. It left Zeno alone once more, with more thoughts to jumble up in his mind than before Danny had showed up.
Heaving a sigh, he stood, tried to stretch his shoulders and headed for the door as well, intent on the opposite direction. Maybe he could walk. Wander through the realms the entity maintained, find somewhere quiet to think properly. He needed to sort through the tangle of reason and desire that was setting his teeth on edge.
~*~
It had been several days since Zeno had seen anyone, carefully avoiding the others the entity had.. collected. He'd especially kept his distance from Wesker and the Deathslinger, moving on as soon as he caught a hint of their presence. He hadn't made a decision on the Ghost Face front either.
His wanderings were peaceful, aside from his turbulent thoughts. The realms the entity maintained for trails weren't generally corrupted until in use for adding fear to the survivors' experience. The cinema had been a nice place to sit and smoke, actually. Gideon had never let him have enough time to himself to do something so mundane as see a movie, but it was also a popular spot, and he'd had to leave before being forced to interact with anyone.
He might have simply continued to wander, slowly driving himself crazy, if the entity hadn't chosen him for a trail.
It wasn't his first one. He knew the rules. Chase, hit, hook. Kill whenever possible. The entity liked blood and pain and fear. Zeno flipped his knife, looking around. He wasn't very familiar with the place, some sort of lab with a myriad of honeycombed rooms. It didn't bode well. And his powers were slightly muted here, held to speed and reflexes, most of his strength and weaponry gone.
Something about balance and better drama. Afterall, the entity fed on the killers as well as the survivors. Whatever. He could at least work some of his frustrations out.
It went bad quickly.
He didn't know the layout. Was still learning what advantages he had, how to listen for the crows, how to lock off generators. And the more frustrated he became, the sloppier he got, missing slashes that should have hit, taking a pallet to the face. He was pretty sure it broke his nose and while the virus in his blood healed him quickly, it still felt sensitive and sore, aching faintly as he snarled.
In the end, the survivors finished quickly, getting the gate open to escape, a few hooks given out, but escaping mostly healed. He snagged one on the way out, ignoring her panicked head shaking and plunged his knife into her chest. It didn't give him the relief he'd hoped for, the satisfaction of at least catching one.
He couldn't do anything more than growl as he split her sternum and slashed her throat to silence her, left bloody and panting.
Trial done, the scenery blurred, faded and rearranged itself into a less ruined state, the girl's body fading with it. In its place, a glowing portal, his transport to whatever other realm he preferred now that his task was finished.
He chose Mount Ormond, thinking the cold air might help settle his frustration. And feel good against his face. He was right on the second, but not the first.
Taking a deep breath in, fingers clenching and unclenching, he tipped his head back, gritting his teeth, then finally let the breath out on a rough yell, gutteral, angry. It was a display he'd have been told was beneath him by Gideon. He was supposed to be above petty emotions. But he was human, as much as it galled him to admit it.
Fuck it. There was no one here to tell him what he could and couldn't do. With another hissed breath, he balled one hand into a fist and sent it flying forward, putting all his strength behind it. The wooden wall in front of him splintered with a satisfying crash and he stared at the destruction with heaving shoulders, finally letting them slump forward after several silent seconds.
“Trial didn't go well?”
A voice from his left, out of nowhere, actually made him jump and he swung around, slashing with one hand before remembering his knife wasn't held there, faded and placed back in the sheath at his hip with the trial’s end. He stared.
The Ghost Face was watching him in return, standing just out of arm's reach.
“I'll take that as a no.”
Zeno wanted to be angry. Maybe yell some more, now that he had a target. But he felt more tired than angry, like the frustration of the past days, the indecision and unresolved desires of his body had left him worn. Pulled thin, somehow.
Dropping his hand finally, Zeno reached instead to pinch the bridge of his nose. And immediately regretted the decision, snatching his hand away with a soft hiss. It was one more strike against the day, one more thing to press down on him, make him feel small. He turned away from the other figure, ready to walk away. To run. Again.
“I'd prefer to be alone, Danny.”
Before he could take a step, a gloved hand was wrapping around his wrist, not hard, but firm. Less of a demand and more of a request, strong enough to make him at least consider it.
Zeno looked back, expecting amusement, a grin he could see without seeing. Instead he found neutrality. Not a blank slate, he was more than sure Danny could project nothing if he wanted, but quiet contemplation. Understanding.
“You might think that's what you want. But I don't think it's what you need.” Danny pulled lightly, not moving himself, but putting pressure on Zeno's wrist until he had to decide between stepping closer or breaking away.
He stepped closer.
Danny took a step back, then another, each one Zeno took towards him easier, needing less convincing until he realized he was following, being drawn towards the lodge.
“Why won't you let me go?” His voice caught slightly on the last word, sounding more broken than he ever would have consciously allowed.
Danny shifted his hold slowly, hand slipping up, around, pressing their palms together to wrap his fingers around Zeno's hand, careful, like he was gentling a skittish horse. He never stopped moving, just gripped Zeno's hand with steady pressure, kept his hidden eyes on him.
“Because you said my name.”
The words brought Zeno up short, the honesty behind them and he followed without comment or protest.
Ormond Lodge, when not in use for a trail, was whole, glowing gently through the snow and when Danny drew him in from the cold through the double doors it was draft-free, warm, a fire crackling merrily in the central fireplace.
Danny paused once the door latched, reaching for Zeno's jacket, slipping it from his shoulders, hanging it up on the rod. His suit jacket followed, eased down his arms, hung, his gloves taken off finger by finger and tucked into a pocket. Dexterous fingers tripped up the buttons of his vest, leaving them open, loosened his tie. Every layer lost or loosened left Zeno feeling more open, more vulnerable and, as if he could tell, Danny didn't reach for another, simply reclaimed Zeno's hand and led him farther into the room.
Zeno was directed towards the plush furniture set about the Great Room, pushed lightly but inexorably back onto a loveseat, and, sinking slightly into the cushions, was left looking up at the man before him.
Danny didn't join him right away, just stood for a moment, watching Zeno watch him. Then slowly, deliberately, he reached up, pushed his hood back and reached for his mask.
He looked a little younger than Zeno expected, but his jaw was sharper. His hair was dark brown, looked longer on top though it was hard to tell how long, pressed down from both mask and hood as it was. The sides were neatly trimmed, short and there was the slightest hint of stubble along his jaw. His eyes were dark, shadowed, making Zeno wonder if he darkened around them on purpose and the makeup had smudged. It somehow worked with the shape of his eyes, gave him an enigmatic sort of look, despite how expressive Zeno would bet money they could be.
It was a shock to see his face, both fitting and alien with the cloak. That went next, the long zipper drawn down, the leather shrugged carelessly off, none of the consideration shown for it that he'd given Zeno's clothes. With his gloves drawn off, he was left in a black tshirt and pants, looking painfully.. normal.
Not that Zeno thought he was strange, but he'd never fully let himself imagine what was beneath the cloak.
Whatever was showing on his face Danny must have liked, if the little upwards twitch of his lips was any indication, just as soft as he'd seen before, just as easy to read and he'd guessed. He stepped forward, deliberate but non-threatening, and pressed a knee to the cushion on the outside of Zeno's thigh, slipping into his lap as if he belonged there.
Danny settled close, nearly chest to chest, his hands falling lightly to Zeno's shoulders. Zeno's own hands had no idea where they should be and fluttered uselessly near Danny's thighs.
He looked over Zeno's face for a moment, a hand lifting, fingertips barely brushing over the bridge of his nose, careful, touch feather light. “Fuck, they got you right in the face, huh?”
Zeno cut his eyes away. “They've gotten me hundreds of times. Doesn't make it easier, but it happens. Don't let them get to you.”
His fingers fell, brushing Zeno's sharp jaw instead.
“I know you feel like you need to be in control,” His words drew Zeno's full attention back, the voice just the same without the mask, helping to settle the discordance of seeing the person behind it. “But let me. Stop thinking. I don't care what they told you, who they tried to make you be. Shut your mind off. Forget the trial. The last day. Week. Hell, the last few years. Just let yourself be in a moment without any expectations.”
Chocolate brown eyes met glowing gold on black. “Can you do that?”
“I- I don't know.” Danny didn't move but something about the shape of his eyes read sadness and Zeno couldn't stand it, found himself caring more about Danny's happiness than his own comfort in that moment. “I can try.”
The soft smile that bloomed over Danny's face was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud and Zeno took it as a reward, storing it away for himself. Danny leaned in, slowly, pausing a breath away from his lips touching Zeno's, not hesitation, but giving him the chance to be sure he wanted it or turn his head away. Zeno kept still.
Danny closed the distance.
It was strange, that initial press, an intimate contact that seemed like it should be clumsy. Danny wasn't clumsy. He pressed a soft kiss to Zeno's lips, gentle pressure, there and gone. A breath, then another, a lazy string of presses, brushes, slight pulls that coaxed and tempted until Zeno pressed back, just the tiniest bit at first, then firmer, mirroring Danny while slowly settling into the sensation.
His mind, surprisingly, had gone mostly quiet, simply letting him feel, experience. It was nice, a give and take, and he could appreciate- Danny sat up slightly to angle his own head down, brought his hands up to cup Zeno's jaw, to tip his head slightly to the side and- Oh.
The last corner of his mind that had still been analyzing promptly fizzled out. His hands ceased their hovering and settled on Danny's thighs, warm and solid against him and when he felt the flicker of Danny's tongue, softly tracing his bottom lip, they parted, a sound escaping with the breath pulled out of him, something he didn't recognize. Low and rough. Wanting.
“Yeah, there you go.” Danny's words were hushed, low, spoken right against Zeno's lips and it made something in his belly go tight. He didn't remember closing his eyes but when he opened them, Danny was right there, cheeks slightly flushed, lips pink, eyes dark. He looked hungry. And he was looking right at Zeno.
This time Zeno leaned up to meet him.
Danny let him, rocked back slightly, swaying with the motion, then pushed back, not rushed, but pressing Zeno into the back cushion, following to keep their mouths connected. His hands shifted, giving in to the desire to wander, mapping out muscle under dark material. He drank down the sighs and quiet groans he earned, licking lazily into Zeno's mouth to chase them, to earn more, to feel the man under him arch unconsciously against him, little motions that betrayed his need.
His fingers found the buttons of Zeno's shirt, smoothly working them open to get to warm skin. Halfway through, Zeno reluctantly broke the kiss, breathing quickened, his own fingers flexing on Danny's thighs. He was flushed, his eyelids heavy, giving him that pleasure drunk look Danny adored.
“Is this really the best place?”
Danny grinned and leaned in, nudging Zeno's head back to get at his throat, dropping kisses to the vulnerable skin there once he tugged the tie free, chuckling lowly at the groan he got.
“No one can come here right now. Ormond's blocked off.”
Zeno blinked again, trying to clear a bit of the fog from his brain to properly process those words. “Blocked-”
“I told you. The entity loves me.” With no more explanation, Danny caught his lips again, less careful this time.
Zeno huffed a breath, lips parting more from the hands sliding over his skin than anything else but earned Danny kissing him deeper, their tongues rolling together in a way that made his toes curl. Gathering the confidence Danny had helped grow, he finally let his hands move, sliding up the other man's thighs, over his hips, up to slip under his tshirt.
Danny's skin was warm, softer than he expected and Zeno slipped both hands to his back, fingers spreading wide to touch as wide an expanse as he could, palms pressed firm and flat just under his shoulder blades. It was Danny's turn to suck in a breath, to arch enough to press his chest to Zeno's, a groan breathed into his mouth and oh.
Oh.
He could get Danny to make those noises.
It was like a revelation and he grinned against Danny's lips, curling his fingers a little to clutch the skin under his hands, pulling the other man closer, then eased the grip, palms sliding slowly downwards. Catching the hem of Danny's shirt, he dragged his hands up again, over every dip and plain, taking the material with him.
Danny lifted his arms obligingly, letting Zeno tug the shirt off, not caring then he let it drop to the floor. He didn't lean back in immediately, just slipped his hands to Zeno's chest, palms sliding over his skin while he let the other look at him.
And Zeno did look, eyes roaming over the newly revealed skin like a physical touch. Danny was lean, musculature more defined than he'd expected. Pale with a sprinkling of dark hair. The light trail on his belly captured Zeno's attention, drawing his gaze down without permission from his brain. It took him a moment to register what he was looking at, too caught up in the journey, but the bulge in Danny's pants was impossible to ignore, once he realized.
Cheeks flushing, he looked up guiltily, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Danny was grinning, eyes crinkled with his amusement and he leaned back in to press a soft kiss to Zeno's lips, similar to their first few, lingering
“Cute.”
Zeno immediately opened his mouth to protest. He'd never been described as cute. No one would dare- He was derailed before getting the chance to speak.
Danny dropped one hand down, down, slipping unhesitatingly between them, between Zeno's thighs to cup his hand right over the answering bulge in his pants, the pressure firm and sure.
Zeno's eyes squeezed shut, kiss broken as his teeth clenched, a sharp hiss of indrawn breath loud between them.
“Unh, fuck-” He realized several things in quick succession. He was achingly hard. Danny was touching him. It felt incredible.
Eyes slowly reopening, he met Danny's, the brown gone nearly as black as his own. Zeno was flushed, eyes heavy lidded over gold, his lips pink and parted as he breathed, quick and shallow. The picture of surrender. Danny felt suddenly ravenous.
“Fuckin hot.”
Dropping his other hand, he worked quickly at Zeno's pants, popping the button, dragging the zipper down, pushing at the material until he could get it low enough, out of his way. When he freed Zeno's cock, they both sighed, Danny's eyes drinking in the sight.
Decently long, satisfyingly thick. He was fully hard, tip shiny with precome, head flushed the pretty pink of his lips. His public hair was sparse, or simply didn't show well; not surprising, given how pale his hair was. Danny wrapped a hand around him, watched his eyes slam closed, his head tip back.
“Shit-”
The word came out choked, tight, telling Danny everything he needed to know and he fought himself to keep his hand still, to not push Zeno too fast in his own greed to see it.
Danny slipped his free hand to the back of Zeno's neck, pulling his head up, close enough that their noses brushed, nudging against him in an attempt to get his attention.
“Hey. I know you wanna be a pillow princess right now and that's fine but you gotta breathe with me. C'mon. Open those eyes, pretty.”
It felt like clawing up from the bottom of the ocean, like when the fog first took him. But Danny's words had the desired effect and Zeno fought for breath, to crack his eyes open just to retort.
“Not- not pretty.” He could feel Danny's grin against his own lips.
“There you are. Breathe with me.” He nudged Zeno's nose again with his to keep his attention, then took a deliberate breath in, held it a couple seconds and sighed it out. Then again. Even.
Zeno tried, his first two attempts short and rough, but he managed on the third. Shakey, but slow.
Danny waited until he got four full breaths, felt him relax just a little against him, then moved his hand, a long upwards slide, then back down again, not teasing but easy.
Zeno tensed again immediately, his brows drawing down but Danny stayed close, the hand on the back of his neck firm and grounding. He gasped out a groan, then tried to breathe again, to follow the example Danny was continuing to maintain.
He could tell Zeno was trying and rewarded him with a little open-mouthed kiss, short with the necessity to breathe, but hot, close.
“Good, that's good. Need you to last more than three seconds.” Danny's words were amused, fond. A teasing that felt companionable rather than like a thinly veiled insult.
Zeno's hips twitched as Danny's hand kept moving, instinctual and seeking, making him groan again while he tried to balance the overwhelming sensation with the coherence Danny was gently demanding.
“Fuck-” He gritted the word out, hands shifting restlessly before coming to a rest on Danny's ass, gripping there, needing the steady contact. “Why?”
Danny chuckled, squeezing his fingers a little tighter on the next upstroke. It got him a rough cry, half bitten off, and Zeno tipping his head to kiss him, messy and desperate, little ‘mm, mm, mm's’ muffled between them. It made his cock kick in his pants and his amusement immediately ignited into more desperate want, sorely testing his control.
“So that when you press Wesker up against a wall and put him in his place, you'll last longer than him.” There was a growl in his words now and Zeno gasped out something like a laugh, twisted into raw need, the tension in his gut growing tighter.
“S-so- eight minutes, then?”
It surprised a bark of laughter out of Danny. Pressing his forehead against Zeno's, he moved his hand faster, stroking his cock quick and tight. He'd given up on trying to control their breathing, panting breaths warm between the two of them.
“Oh, you’re gonna be a bitch, aren't you? I love it.”
Zeno might have laughed, if he wasn't ready to shatter. It was too much and not enough all at once, the added speed, the tight grip making his toes curl in his expensive shoes. He moved a hand, sliding it up Danny's back to grip his shoulder, arm pressed against his back, holding close; more contact, needing the solid presence.
Deep breaths weren't going to save him now.
One particular stroke up caught on the flared ridge of his head and Zeno shuddered, fingers tightening against Danny.
“Yeah?” Danny huffed against his lips, adjusting his grip, higher, shorter, just as quick but focusing on the head of his cock. He was aching but kept his attention on Zeno, drinking in the noises he made, his expression, the way he melted into the pleasure.
Zeno wanted to say yeah, tell him that was good, fucking incredible, actually, but making words didnt seem like something his brain could do at the moment. Danny's hand was relentless, inevitable, and for a moment, he felt like he'd be caught forever, hovering in a place of almostbutnotquite-
Then Danny's thumb moved, sneaky, slick, tracing around the flare, dragging over his slit and Zeno was gone.
“I can’t-” Zeno choked out the words.
“I know.” Danny's were hushed. Hot and close.
Zeno came with a noise that was torn from deep in his gut, rough and desperate. He arched hard enough to press his head back against the loveseat, face twisted in something that almost looked like pain before it smoothed out into bliss, his mouth open, little ‘ah's’ echoing each roll of his hips, pressing up into Danny's hand. He couldn't move that much with the other man's weight holding him down, but it was enough, feeling primal and necessary as he pulsed hot and thick over Danny's fingers.
Danny kept his hand moving, slower, not as tight, long pulls with the flexing of Zeno's hips to work him through his orgasm, his eyes dark, fixed. It was hotter than it had any right to be and he had to slip his hand from the back of Zeno's neck, grip the cushion above his shoulder tight to keep from just letting himself follow and make a mess in his pants.
“Fuuuuuck…” Zeno sighed the word out as he relaxed back into the cushions, feeling boneless, warm. His body was still shivery but he felt satisfied in a way he hadn't in… a very long time.
His hands eased their grip on Danny, shifting to rest against his hips, feeling as liquid as the rest of him. He didn't open his eyes until he felt Danny's hand slipping from his cock, making him twitch with sensitivity.
Danny smirked, pleased with himself. He knew he probably looked a little wild, hair mussed, pupils blown, cheeks hot with his own arousal, but he met Zeno's dark eyes pointedly, lifting his come-streaked hand to sweep his tongue over one finger.
“Disgusting.” Zeno's tone said that he didn't actually think so.
Danny chuckled, reached over to wipe his hand against the loveseat (the entity was good at cleaning up after him, all of them, really), and dropped both hands to his pants, tugging them open impatiently, done with ignoring his cock.
He almost whimpered as the pressure finally eased, lifting up on his knees just enough to shove his pants down, to pull himself out, pants tucked under his balls. No time for finesse. One hand returned to the back of the loveseat, his fingers retightened on the cushion as he wrapped the other around himself, balls already tight. He was just gonna pump a few times and he'd be-
A hand on his wrist kept him from moving and his eyes snapped to Zeno, brows drawing down.
Zeno was still slumped against the back of the loveseat, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, lazy, one hand on Danny's hip, the other holding his wrist still.
Danny growled.
“Don't fuck with me right now. I need to come. And I was good-”
“Shhh.” Zeno barely moved, gold on black eyes holding Danny's. Not teasing. Not being a dick. Instead, he gently pulled Danny's hand away to replace it with his own. “Let me.”
Zeno's hand was big and broad and warm and Danny melted into him, giving his hips a little hitch.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Please.”
It was a kick to the gut, realizing the power he had at that moment. Zeno knew that desperate hunger, was still tingling pleasantly from having it sated. To know he could do that for Danny, could command reactions, sounds, pleasure… It was a heady thing that made his cock twitch feebly.
He moved his hand the same way Danny had, careful at first, but encouraged by his reactions. They told him everything he needed to know; the pressure Danny liked with the way his precome slicked his hand, the speed he needed with how his cock throbbed, how badly he wanted it broadcast in the stuttering of his hips.
Danny moaned, high and unselfconscious and Zeno was glad he'd already gotten off, might have come untouched if he was still as hard as he'd been. He stroked Danny quick and tight, the hand on his hip sliding up to the back of his head, drawing him in to claim a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, drinking down the sounds of pleasure from the source.
He felt like he was drowning, surrounded by Zeno, held close, worked better than he ever expected, a greedy tongue licking sensually into his mouth. He did his best to kiss back, though it was more a pressing of lips, a sharing of breath and broken words, hot between them. Danny curled his arms around Zeno's shoulders, his neck, one hand sliding into the short, soft hairs at his nape.
“Fuck, fuck, mmn.. gonna make me fuckin’ come, ah-”
Zeno relished the sharp intake of breath, the fine trembling he could feel with how close they were. Danny's body spoke to him even more loudly than his words. Still, he couldn't help a little gentle teasing, even as his hand stroked faster, determined to shove Danny over the edge.
“So less than three seconds, then?”
Fucking diva. Danny was going to tell him so, too. Once his brain stopped being liquefied by the hand on his dick.
“F-fuck you- ungh!” It was the best he could manage, lip service towards defiance that was completely undermined by a squeeze the next time Zeno's hand slid up his cock, bringing his hips with the motion and he was coming a breath later.
Zeno watched him, watched his eyes flutter closed as his brow smoothed, his eyes half opening again a heartbeat later to meet Zeno's gaze, hazy, lost to sensation as he groaned, hips rolling to work his cock through Zeno's fist. He groaned in sympathetic pleasure, hand going mostly still to let Danny move the way he needed, feeling the hot ropes of come fall over his fingers and belly, Danny making a mess between them.
He minded a lot less than he thought he would.
He kept Danny close, panted breaths washing over him. Once Danny's hips went still with a little shudder, Zeno moved his hand, a few more slow strokes that made Danny's head tip back, mouth opening before he curled forward, tucking his face against Zeno's shoulder, his fingers tightening minutely.
“Good?” Zeno turned his head a little to speak against his ear, nose skimming his temple.
“Shit- too much..” His voice was tight but he didn't actually tell Zeno to stop, just gasped softly against him.
Zeno indulged himself in a few more, then finally relented, humming, his hand slipping away to resettle on Danny's ass, subtly wiping the cooling stickiness into the black material.
Danny sighed, relaxing against Zeno.
“You shouldn't be that good with never having done it before.”
“Who says I've never done it before?”
Danny peeked up with one eye, quiet for a moment then muttered. “Trivialities.”
Zeno blinked, then snorted, inelegant and uncaring, too satisfied to even be mad at Danny calling him on his bullshit.
Sitting up slowly, Danny pushed and prodded at Zeno, ignoring his grumbling until the larger man gave in and followed the nudging, ending up on his back, one leg over a loveseat arm, the other foot on the floor, Danny half draped over him. He rested his head against Zeno's chest, listening to his heart as he enjoyed the contact, the warmth is skin on skin, one hand trailing lazily up and down his side.
A voice inside Zeno was trying to tell him that he shouldn't be flopped here, enjoying having Danny sprawled on him. It sounded a lot like Gideon. Extra incentive for him to ignore it. He curled one arm up, under his head, the other falling over Danny, hand gliding slowly over his back.
“I didn't expect you to be a cuddler.”
“I bet there's a lot you didn't expect today. I like touch. Contact. S'why I prefer a knife. I get in close. Plus I hardly ever get to be the little spoon.”
They weren't really spooning but Zeno understood. “Frank doesn't cuddle you?”
Danny shrugged. “All of the Legion like being close. But the girls like being held. Joey is too much of a bottom to try anything that feels like he's pushing for control. And Frank could but he has this hero worship thing that tells him he needs to defer to me. Strokes my ego, but doesn't get me held. Sometimes there are things your body needs.”
He wasn't wrong. Moving his hand, Zeno caught his fingers under Danny's chin, tipping his head up to demand a kiss or three, soft, lingering, little pulls of lip against lip.
Danny allowed it, indulgent, then broke away with a crooked smile, chuckling as Zeno leaned up slightly, trying to chase him before settling back again.
“Yeah, Wesker is a slut for kissing too.”
Zeno immediately frowned at him and gave his shoulder a smack, more sound that force, but it still stung. Danny decided it was worth it.
“Ow, fuck. Don't get your panties in a bunch. You can both like similar things and be totally different people.”
Zeno's eyes, so different from Wesker's while somehow being shaped almost exactly the same, narrowed.
“I don't wear panties.”
Danny reached for his pants pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighter, fancy, gold, and shook one out, setting it between his lips.
“I could get you a pair. You'd look fuckin’ pretty in them.” At Zeno's stare, he grinned, flicking the flame to life, setting it against the cigarette's end and taking a breath to light the tobacco. “Black. Silk. I know you're a classy bitch.”
Zeno didn't know where to begin with that. So he ignored it for another question.
“Are those mine?”
“Mmhm. Took them out of your jacket when I took it off earlier.” He took another drag, breathed the smoke out slowly and reached up to offer it, pressing the end to Zeno's lips.
He had half a mind to grump about it, but still felt too good to bother. Wrapping his lips around the end, he inhaled deeply, drawing in smoke and nicotine, holding for a moment, then sighed it out again, his eyes fluttering closed. Fuck, Danny had been right, damn him.
As if he knew just what Zeno was thinking, Danny chuckled, taking it back for another drag.
“Told you.”
Zeno ignored that. “I didn't know you smoked.”
“Only now and then.” Danny resettled against Zeno, the two sharing until Danny had to stub the cigarette out, the last wisps of smoke curling up with his sigh as he stretched back out.
They were quiet for a long while, resting companionably, until Zeno finally broke the silence.
“Why?”
He didn't elaborate, but Danny understood.
“Because you needed it.” He was quiet for another few seconds, then, “And I wanted to.”
“Those the only reasons?”
“Nah. There are plenty of others. But they're the most important ones.”
“Tell me a less important one.”
“Only if you don't bitch at me after.”
Zeno rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Danny tipped his head without lifting it to look up, eyes narrowed. Zeno rolled his eyes again for his benefit.
Danny snorted. “So that when you get Wesker alone, you can out bitch his bratty ass and make him whine.”
That.. hadn't been one Zeno expected.
“Wesker doesn't want me. He looks at me like I'm an insect under his shoe.”
Rolling a little, Danny settled on his belly against Zeno, chin on his hand, looking up from Zeno's chest.
“He looks at everybody like that. Hell, he wants Caleb and looks at him like that half the time. You have to pay attention to what he doesn't say.”
Zeno frowned faintly. “That sounds exhausting.”
Danny huffed a laugh. “Like I said. Brat.”
Stretching, he slowly sat up, taking a moment to run his palms down Zeno's chest, taking advantage of the exposed skin. Zeno hummed under him.
“Guess we oughta get up and shit. Before people start whining that Ormond is closed.”
Zeno reluctantly admitted that he was probably right. And made a mental note to ask Danny about that some time, the ability to just close places. As Danny slipped off of him and stood, finally tucking himself away and looking for his shirt, Zeno sat up, then hauled himself from the cushions, stretching to his full height, arms up over his head. His spine popped pleasantly and he sighed, feeling a strange sort of peace.
“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” He meant it more as a statement, but his words lilted up at the end, betraying the question.
Danny smiled over at him, the open, honest kind that made his eyes crinkle.
“Definitely again.”
Zeno ducked his head, half-heartedly hiding his smile as he rebuttoned his shirt.
~*~