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alchemist_alice) wrote2020-02-01 06:50 pm
alchemist_alice) wrote2020-02-01 06:50 pm
Entry tags:
Resident Evil; Matriphony
Title: Matriphony
Fandom: Resident Evil
Prompt: Marriage (Arranged Accidental Or Otherwise) and Drunkenness & Inebriation.
Medium: Fic
Size: 1255 Words
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, alcohol use, and an implied sexual encounter described in detail.
Summary/Preview: Leon wakes up in a large pink bed with his and his boyfriend's clothes strewn about the tacky room, hung over from one hell of a party the night before, and oh, there's also a pretty silver ring on his finger.
Notes: Spoilers for the Vendetta movie.
Flashing lights and voices all clamoring for his attention at once, his throat burns but he takes another shot anyway, and he pushes his boyfriend in the shoulder playfully, laughing. His words slur together and all anyone can make out of his speech is, 'can't no one say that Leon Kennedy can't hold no liquor.'
Worst night of his life.
Sunlight peeks through the gaps in the blinds and dances across his face, urging him to awaken. He groans and throws an arm over his eyes, trying to adjust to the intrusion of light as his head throbs. Damned politicians and their fucking parties, he thinks as he tries to gain his bearings. As the light starts to take shape before him, he can make out the gaudy room around him as he blinks a few more times.
Chris, his boyfriend, is nowhere to be seen but his clothes are strewn all over the place along with his own. Their jeans seem to be intact but Chris's shirt is shredded to ribbons almost, and fuck, Leon doesn't remember doing that. He looks up above him to glimpse a tacky chandelier hanging over the large bed, and his eyes widen when he spots his boxers hanging from one of the brass rungs. Chris's underwear are AWOL like their owner, and as Leon surveys the room for any note or indication as to where he went, he finds none.
"Fuck," he grunts and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What the hell did I drink last night? Battery acid?"
His throat still burns but he doesn't think that the alcohol is entirely at fault. With a twitch of his eyebrow, Leon feels around the patchy flakes plastered to his lips and shudders. The trail moves all the way up his face and outwards from his mouth, little bits sticking here and there.
Gross didn't begin to describe how he felt or how much he needed a shower, but as he moves to get out of bed, his legs almost give out as he tries to stand. He collapses on the mattress with a yelp and scrambles backwards to catch himself on the edge. His back is practically numb and he can't even register that he has an ass, either. Red and purple welts litter his neck and arms, and as he stares between his legs, he notices larger bruises on the inside of his thighs.
"Ugh. Must have been one hell of a night," he mutters and pulls the sheets over himself to obscure the embarrassing marks. "Where am I? Some kind of tacky hotel?"
Definitely something Chris would come up with if he were drunk, he thinks with a huff.
Surprisingly enough, the TV is on and tuned to the local news, offering further proof that Chris was indeed here this morning because it's part of his daily routine. Deciding he'd be back sooner than later, Leon saves the questions wracking his brain for when his boyfriend returns and instead chooses to examine himself for further injuries or anomalies.
Aside from being fucked within an inch of his life, he can't find anything seriously wrong. It's only after he makes a second go of examining himself that he notices a glint on his left ring finger.
"What the...?"
A loud yell reverberates off of the thin walls of the hotel and alerts the man already heading towards the room, coffees in hand as he races along and bursts through the door with a breathless gasp.
"Leon?!" he shouts and leaves their coffee on the living room table to run to the bedroom. "Leon, what's wrong?! What --"
If someone were to drop an egg onto his boyfriend's forehead, Chris is almost certain that it'd fry in an instant. He realizes what Leon has discovered and carefully approaches the bed with his hands raised in a soothing gesture, speaking softly to him, "Now, calm down. I know what it looks like."
"What the fuck did you do?!" Leon rasps and shakes his finger at him, adorned with a silver wedding band. "Oh God, this can't be happening. This cannot be happening."
"Take it easy," Chris says in a low voice still. "You're still anxious from being so hungover. Just give me a chance to explain."
Leon's chest heaves and falls rapidly as he tries to steady himself, keep himself from shaking so much, and Chris climbs into bed beside him to put an arm around his shoulders. He initially flinches at the sudden contact, feeling like he's in some kind of lucid nightmare, and it takes a minute or two for him to catch up to himself.
"W-Well?" he demands, snapping his head to the left with a scowl. "What the fuck happened last night?"
"I don't remember much myself because I was just as drunk as you were," Chris admits, furrowing his brows as he tries to piece it all together. "It's evident from the mess around the room that we had a romp or two last night, and judging by the rings, I think we were married, too."
Leon narrows his eyes. "Where did these rings come from?"
Chris suddenly turns sheepish and he averts his eyes momentarily. "I, uh...I was planning to ask...That is, I was --"
"The president's inaugural party was one of the biggest Vegas has ever seen," announces the reporter over the TV. "Celebrities and federal agents alike were in attendance, and if the rumors are to be believed, even the Raja of Uttar Predesh made a surprise appearance."
"That explains where that expensive-ass liquor came from," Leon murmurs, leaning into Chris's side. "So, you were planning to propose, huh?"
Chris just smiles back at him, all goofy and embarrassed.
"Yeah, Claire hinted at it during our last visit at the capital together." Leon nuzzles his arm and glances down at the silvery thing weighing him down. "It's just a big step for us, you know? I didn't want it to be taken so lightly."
"I'm sorry," Chris apologizes, frowning again. "If you want, we can have the marriage annulled and --"
"What?" Leon interrupts, throwing his head back to stare at Chris incredulously. "If you were going to ask me anyways then what's the point in having it annulled?"
Chris blinks a few times. "So, you were going to say 'yes' regardless?"
Pursing his lips, Leon scoots closer so at to bump Chris in the hip with his own. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
A shrug is all Chris can offer him. "Guess I was so nervous that I thought you'd turn me down." He squeezes Leon's shoulders affectionately and beams back at him. "I'm glad all that fear was for nothing."
"So, since you're my husband and all, you can take responsibility for the mess you made last night," Leon adds, throwing the sheets back and gesturing to himself. "I need a shower in the worst way and I can't even stand up."
Laughing, Chris slides off the mattress and sweeps Leon into his arms. "I'll be happy to give my blushing bride whatever he needs from this day forth."
"Shut the fuck up and take me to the bathroom," Leon says with a laugh afterwards, punching him in the shoulder. "Oh, and if you try any shit like this again without cleaning up then I reserve the right to kick your ass after all is said and done."
"Yes, dear," Chris sings as he kicks the bathroom door open and lumbers inside, still carrying Leon. "Your wish is my command."
Fandom: Resident Evil
Prompt: Marriage (Arranged Accidental Or Otherwise) and Drunkenness & Inebriation.
Medium: Fic
Size: 1255 Words
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, alcohol use, and an implied sexual encounter described in detail.
Summary/Preview: Leon wakes up in a large pink bed with his and his boyfriend's clothes strewn about the tacky room, hung over from one hell of a party the night before, and oh, there's also a pretty silver ring on his finger.
Notes: Spoilers for the Vendetta movie.
Flashing lights and voices all clamoring for his attention at once, his throat burns but he takes another shot anyway, and he pushes his boyfriend in the shoulder playfully, laughing. His words slur together and all anyone can make out of his speech is, 'can't no one say that Leon Kennedy can't hold no liquor.'
Worst night of his life.
Sunlight peeks through the gaps in the blinds and dances across his face, urging him to awaken. He groans and throws an arm over his eyes, trying to adjust to the intrusion of light as his head throbs. Damned politicians and their fucking parties, he thinks as he tries to gain his bearings. As the light starts to take shape before him, he can make out the gaudy room around him as he blinks a few more times.
Chris, his boyfriend, is nowhere to be seen but his clothes are strewn all over the place along with his own. Their jeans seem to be intact but Chris's shirt is shredded to ribbons almost, and fuck, Leon doesn't remember doing that. He looks up above him to glimpse a tacky chandelier hanging over the large bed, and his eyes widen when he spots his boxers hanging from one of the brass rungs. Chris's underwear are AWOL like their owner, and as Leon surveys the room for any note or indication as to where he went, he finds none.
"Fuck," he grunts and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What the hell did I drink last night? Battery acid?"
His throat still burns but he doesn't think that the alcohol is entirely at fault. With a twitch of his eyebrow, Leon feels around the patchy flakes plastered to his lips and shudders. The trail moves all the way up his face and outwards from his mouth, little bits sticking here and there.
Gross didn't begin to describe how he felt or how much he needed a shower, but as he moves to get out of bed, his legs almost give out as he tries to stand. He collapses on the mattress with a yelp and scrambles backwards to catch himself on the edge. His back is practically numb and he can't even register that he has an ass, either. Red and purple welts litter his neck and arms, and as he stares between his legs, he notices larger bruises on the inside of his thighs.
"Ugh. Must have been one hell of a night," he mutters and pulls the sheets over himself to obscure the embarrassing marks. "Where am I? Some kind of tacky hotel?"
Definitely something Chris would come up with if he were drunk, he thinks with a huff.
Surprisingly enough, the TV is on and tuned to the local news, offering further proof that Chris was indeed here this morning because it's part of his daily routine. Deciding he'd be back sooner than later, Leon saves the questions wracking his brain for when his boyfriend returns and instead chooses to examine himself for further injuries or anomalies.
Aside from being fucked within an inch of his life, he can't find anything seriously wrong. It's only after he makes a second go of examining himself that he notices a glint on his left ring finger.
"What the...?"
A loud yell reverberates off of the thin walls of the hotel and alerts the man already heading towards the room, coffees in hand as he races along and bursts through the door with a breathless gasp.
"Leon?!" he shouts and leaves their coffee on the living room table to run to the bedroom. "Leon, what's wrong?! What --"
If someone were to drop an egg onto his boyfriend's forehead, Chris is almost certain that it'd fry in an instant. He realizes what Leon has discovered and carefully approaches the bed with his hands raised in a soothing gesture, speaking softly to him, "Now, calm down. I know what it looks like."
"What the fuck did you do?!" Leon rasps and shakes his finger at him, adorned with a silver wedding band. "Oh God, this can't be happening. This cannot be happening."
"Take it easy," Chris says in a low voice still. "You're still anxious from being so hungover. Just give me a chance to explain."
Leon's chest heaves and falls rapidly as he tries to steady himself, keep himself from shaking so much, and Chris climbs into bed beside him to put an arm around his shoulders. He initially flinches at the sudden contact, feeling like he's in some kind of lucid nightmare, and it takes a minute or two for him to catch up to himself.
"W-Well?" he demands, snapping his head to the left with a scowl. "What the fuck happened last night?"
"I don't remember much myself because I was just as drunk as you were," Chris admits, furrowing his brows as he tries to piece it all together. "It's evident from the mess around the room that we had a romp or two last night, and judging by the rings, I think we were married, too."
Leon narrows his eyes. "Where did these rings come from?"
Chris suddenly turns sheepish and he averts his eyes momentarily. "I, uh...I was planning to ask...That is, I was --"
"The president's inaugural party was one of the biggest Vegas has ever seen," announces the reporter over the TV. "Celebrities and federal agents alike were in attendance, and if the rumors are to be believed, even the Raja of Uttar Predesh made a surprise appearance."
"That explains where that expensive-ass liquor came from," Leon murmurs, leaning into Chris's side. "So, you were planning to propose, huh?"
Chris just smiles back at him, all goofy and embarrassed.
"Yeah, Claire hinted at it during our last visit at the capital together." Leon nuzzles his arm and glances down at the silvery thing weighing him down. "It's just a big step for us, you know? I didn't want it to be taken so lightly."
"I'm sorry," Chris apologizes, frowning again. "If you want, we can have the marriage annulled and --"
"What?" Leon interrupts, throwing his head back to stare at Chris incredulously. "If you were going to ask me anyways then what's the point in having it annulled?"
Chris blinks a few times. "So, you were going to say 'yes' regardless?"
Pursing his lips, Leon scoots closer so at to bump Chris in the hip with his own. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
A shrug is all Chris can offer him. "Guess I was so nervous that I thought you'd turn me down." He squeezes Leon's shoulders affectionately and beams back at him. "I'm glad all that fear was for nothing."
"So, since you're my husband and all, you can take responsibility for the mess you made last night," Leon adds, throwing the sheets back and gesturing to himself. "I need a shower in the worst way and I can't even stand up."
Laughing, Chris slides off the mattress and sweeps Leon into his arms. "I'll be happy to give my blushing bride whatever he needs from this day forth."
"Shut the fuck up and take me to the bathroom," Leon says with a laugh afterwards, punching him in the shoulder. "Oh, and if you try any shit like this again without cleaning up then I reserve the right to kick your ass after all is said and done."
"Yes, dear," Chris sings as he kicks the bathroom door open and lumbers inside, still carrying Leon. "Your wish is my command."