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“You don’t seem to have enough coin there, stranger, so I’m afraid we don’t have a deal.”
“Ah, shit,” Leon mumbles under his breath, already turning back to his case to see if he has any loose pesetas tucked away in a corner. No luck— he’s woefully low on supplies in every capacity, and it’s a thorny sort of dilemma. If he could just afford that upgrade part, he’d be comfortably prepared to set out again and find some more treasure, but without it, he doesn’t dare.
Grimacing to himself, Leon casts his eyes back towards a boarded-up window, squinting against the purple light of the merchant’s strange torch. He can hear the villagers outside, muttering gruffly amongst themselves, ordinary Spanish interlaced with a faint, inhuman clicking between every syllable. God, he’d rather take on a horde of the undead than them, waiting eagerly for him to make a break for it.
Desperate for any sort of leverage, he rummages through his case again. He comes up with a single brown egg in hand, and despite the low light in the room, the merchant’s disapproving gaze is clear as day. “I, uh... guess this isn’t enough to pay for it either, huh.”
“Sure ain’t.”
“I could do one of those requests...?”
The merchant gestures towards the door, currently safely locked to keep away the prowling townsfolk. “Be my guest.”
“Shit,” Leon breathes, trying and nearly failing to not fall into the grip of despair. If he squints between the boards, he can just barely see the church spire against the graying sky, so close and yet so far. How much longer does he have until Ashley winds up dead— or worse? It can’t end here. He won’t let it end here.
Crossing the room in two swift strides, he slams his hands, palms-down, on the merchant’s table. Jingling charms and loose ammunition bounce with the impact. “Listen, buddy— I really, really need that upgrade. Is there anything I could do to get it? Anything at all?”
For the first time since Leon met the fellow, the merchant pauses. No quick response, dripping with barely-earned praise; no flash of sharp and ever-present wit. Under the mysterious vendor’s hood, Leon spots his eyes, glowing like coals, staring at him. Assessing.
He’s not a fan of how it makes his skin crawl, but he squares his shoulders and bears it, for now.
Settling back, just a bit, the merchant crosses his arms over his chest. “We-ell. If you’re that desperate, mate, I suppose there is somethin’ you could do for us...”
It’s a shining, golden olive branch, and Leon grasps for it instantly, heart soaring in his chest. “Yes! Yes, what is it?”
“Just a one-time transaction, y’see,” the merchant drawls, swaying back and forth on his heels. Metal chimes ring out with the movement, his wares clinking together inside his coat. “We fix up your gun nice and pretty, and you offer us a bit of... relief, if you catch our drift.”
His meaning is obvious, and Leon blinks. Out of everything he could have expected, that was probably the lowest on his list, but it’s thankfully the easiest— and the most palatable. He was dreading having to chop off an ear or a finger, or something, but all he’s got to do is go down on someone he doesn’t really know? Frankly, that just sounds like a really good night out. “Is that all?”
He must not have sounded agreeable, because the merchant stills, a slightly upset tone coloring his voice. “It’s that or we take somethin’ from you that you’re really gonna regret not havin’ when the day is through.”
“No, no, I—” Leon lifts his hands from the table, splaying them in front of his body. “I mean I’m willing. It’s— I’m willing.”
“Ah. Well.” Finally uncrossing his arms, the merchant settles back into perfect ease, swiping an arm in front of him with practiced grace. “Come ‘round the counter, then. And don’t think you get to do this whenever you want, stranger— this is a special opportunity.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Leon replies, already on the opposite side and sinking to his knees.
“Give us a mo’,” the merchant mumbles, spreading his legs to give Leon enough room to wriggle between them. Gingerly, he reaches up to place his hands on the merchant’s thighs, steadying himself as the vendor’s fingers make quick work of what must be dozens of belts and chains.
Eventually, the fabric falls away, and Leon finds that as ever, his strange benefactor is full of surprises.
Underneath his swathes of thick clothing, the merchant is unnervingly thin, hipbones standing out in sharp relief against skin so pale it gleams snowy white. He’s shockingly blemish-free, not even the usual slight freckles or pores most people have, and most notably nearly completely hairless. If he has any body hair, it’s the faint nigh-invisible kind, and Leon can’t even feel it when he smooths his palms up to where the merchant’s flesh is bared. This apparent hairlessness allows Leon a full, clear view of what he’s there to find: the dip between the merchant’s thighs, and the furrow of his cunt.
It’s not exactly what he expected, but Leon’s been with a few men whose equipment differs from his own, so he’s at least not completely out of his wheelhouse. Shifting himself, the merchant reaches down and spreads his folds with a V of his own fingers, exposing the glistening of his pussy and the length of his clit, not yet fat with arousal. “Knock yourself out, mate.”
It’s as accommodating of a welcome as any, and Leon doesn’t have much time to waste. He leans in, testing the waters, and presses the flat of his tongue against the merchant’s clit.
Much to his surprise, the man doesn’t taste bad at all— Leon knows he must be much worse. There’s only the faint salty tinge of sweat, only natural after standing around in such thick robes all day, and when he kitten-licks downwards to bury his face in the merchant’s labia, he’s rewarded with a gratifying clench of the thighs on either side of his head. “Ooh, that’s good.”
He’s not yet as aroused as he could be, Leon can tell, and so he sets about rectifying that. Pushing in further, he strokes his tongue over the merchant’s fluttering entrance, pulling long and slow over it without quite penetrating him. He can feel his surroundings twitch with the attention, quickly filling his mouth with salty slick, proof that he’s doing a good job. It turns him on more than he expected it to, and Leon presses his own legs together, willing down an erection that doesn’t want to stay hidden.
Thin fingers tangle in his bangs, not quite guiding him but offering an insistent, gentle pressure as the merchant’s hand slides around to cup the back of Leon’s skull. Leon shifts his attention back to the man’s clit yet again, feeling it quiver against his tongue as he curls his lips around the bud of flesh and sucks. The merchant yelps, a cut-off sort of growl that reverberates through him, and suddenly Leon’s nose is pressing against the hard flesh of his hips as the grip on his head becomes much rougher.
“Don’t hold back on me now,” the merchant says, voice low and raspy with arousal. When Leon looks up, face still buried in the man’s cunt, he sees those glowing eyes trained on him, and his hips involuntarily twitch. If they keep going like this, he’s going to ruin these expensive military-grade pants, but Leon can’t bring himself to care in the slightest— having his mouth full, the merchant’s wetness sliding against his chin and lips, is just too good. He hums his assent and resumes sucking, tongue flicking out again to press against the underside of the man’s clit as he does.
Apparently, this is very much appreciated, because the merchant bucks his hips downwards, further into Leon’s waiting mouth. It presses the ridge of his pubic bone against Leon’s face, and the weight of it, the insistent commanding tug of being forced to give the other man pleasure, makes his eyes roll back in his head briefly as heat spikes down his spine. He moans deep in his throat, and is answered by a short, sharp chuckle, endearingly familiar.
“Do ya like that, stranger?” The merchant hums, and Leon nods as best he can without moving too far from where he is. He can feel how hard he is now, burning hot against the coarse fabric of his pants, sparks shooting through his nerves every time he shifts his legs. Decadently, the merchant rolls his hips down again, fucking his cunt into Leon’s face, and starts up a rhythm.
“Ahh, you’re something else,” the merchant hums, the steadiness of his pace shuddering when Leon flicks his tongue against his clit, closing his eyes as he devotes himself to his task. “You feel so good, mate... Use your fingers, your fingers...”
Up until then, Leon hadn’t brought his hands into the mix— he’s acutely aware of how filthy he is, especially with how much gore he’s been forced to handle recently. But if the merchant wants it, who is Leon to refuse? He only shifts himself just barely enough to stroke his index and middle over the other man’s folds, getting them wet in his slick before he seeks out his velvet-plush entrance to push them inside.
Accepting him easily, the merchant gives a stuttering cry when he’s penetrated, walls clenching around Leon’s fingers. It only takes a moment before they’ve found their pattern, Leon fucking his digits in tandem with the merchant grinding on his face, pushing in when he pulls back and locking his lips over the hood of his clit so he can tongue at the bud underneath. It pulses in his mouth, swollen fat with pleasure, and Leon can just barely hear the wet, slick sounds as his face gets messier and messier.
“Didn’t— ah— didn’t peg you as this much of a slut, stranger,” the merchant gasps out, breaths heaving with every hot, sharp thrust of his hips. Leon feels his cock twitch at his words, wetness smearing the inside of his boxers. “Bet you’re real— hah— hard for me down there, ain’t ‘cha? A regular— ah, ah— deviant, you are.”
It’s all Leon can do to keep himself upright. He moans his agreement through the fluid in his mouth, letting it all drip over his chin as he drives his fingers in faster. The thighs bracketing him shake with exertion, and unwillingly, Leon desperately juts his hips in the air, grinding against nothing as he feels muscles ripple against his digits. The tension in the air is a live wire, the merchant forcing Leon’s face in further, and in a frantic bid to finally reach the precipice, he curls his fingers just so.
The merchant bruises Leon’s nose as he comes, clenching hard around the fingers still stuffed into his cunt, gasping unintelligible curses with every choking breath. Leon does his best to lick up the liquid that fills his mouth, slowing his pace but never quite stopping until the other man lets go of his head and he can lean away to gulp down cool air.
“Fuckin’ hell, mate,” the merchant eventually pants, once he’s collected himself a bit. Leon is still on the floor, hands on his own knees, feeling somewhat dizzy. Between his legs, his dick throbs with ignored need. “Consider the upgrades done. I haven’t felt that good in years.”
“Glad to be of service,” Leon manages to say, head spinning. Even though his legs feel disconcertingly weak, he pulls himself up, and feels more than sees the merchant’s gaze land on the bulge of his erection. “You, uh... got somewhere I could...?”
Even with his face hidden behind his customary bandana, the merchant’s conniving grin is more than visible in the sparkle that gleams in his eyes. “Well, we always work a bit faster with a show.”
Leon chuckles, then casts a look towards the boarded-up window. The villagers are still just barely in view, their angry words fading but not yet gone.
“...Sure, I’ve got time,” he says, reaching for the zipper of his pants.