Chapter 3: Cold
The first sensation was warmth. An oppressive, encompassing warmth that seemed to weigh him down into the thin, damp mattress of the cot. Then came the smell: stale sweat, the coppery tang of dried blood, the heavy musk of Alpha – Krauser's scent – now layered over his own, cloying and possessive. And beneath it all, the lingering sweetness of his own heat, subdued now but still a low hum in his veins.
Telemachus groaned, the sound tearing at his raw throat. Every part of him ached. His neck throbbed with a deep, pulsing agony where Krauser’s fangs had torn into him. His right hand was a mangled mess of protesting nerves and half-knitted bone beneath bruised skin. His hips felt bruised, his inner thighs sticky and sore. The phantom sensation of being stretched, filled, claimed, echoed in his core.
He opened his eyes, bleary and unfocused, to the dim grey light filtering through the rotten planks of the cabin wall. Rain still drummed steadily on the roof. And then the warmth shifted. A massive arm, thick with corded muscle and scar tissue, tightened around his waist, pulling him back flush against a solid, unforgiving chest. Rough stubble scraped against the sensitive skin of his shoulder.
Krauser.
Tel tensed, a jolt of residual fear and disgust shooting through him. But his traitorous body, still humming with the biochemical aftermath of heat and the brutal claiming, didn’t pull away. It shivered, a tremor of conflicting impulses.
Krauser made a low, rumbling sound in his chest, not quite a growl, more like the purr of a large, satisfied predator. His lips found the bruised curve of Tel’s shoulder. Not biting now. Kissing. A slow, possessive drag of chapped lips against Tel’s skin. Then his tongue followed, rough and wet, tracing the path his lips had taken.
Tel froze. Every nerve ending screamed. This casual intimacy, this ownership radiating from Krauser’s touch, felt more violating than the raw violence that had preceded it. Krauser’s massive hand slid up his chest, calloused fingers splaying possessively over Tel’s ribs, feeling the rapid flutter of his heart. The Alpha nuzzled the back of his neck, inhaling deeply, his breath hot against the claiming bite. Tel felt Krauser’s cock, soft now but still substantial, pressed against the small of his back.
"Morning, Omega," Krauser murmured, his voice thick with sleep and dark satisfaction. His lips moved to Tel’s nape, planting another slow, deliberate kiss. His hand slid lower, palming Tel’s stomach, fingers brushing the waistband of his pants, still tangled around his thighs. "Slept well?"
Tel’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. The urge to lash out, to shift his mangled hand into something sharp and bury it in Krauser’s throat, warred with the bone-deep exhaustion and the insidious, humiliating thrum of his own biology responding to the proximity of the Alpha who’d conquered him. "Get the fuck off me," he rasped, the words scraping like gravel.
Krauser chuckled, the vibration resonating through Tel’s body. His hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of Tel’s hipbone. "Still got that fire. Good." He bit down gently on the shell of Tel’s ear, not enough to break skin, but enough to make Tel flinch. "Need to scent you again. Can’t have you smelling like anything but me. Especially not when the storm clears." His tongue followed the bite, a slow, deliberate swipe.
Disgust curdled in Tel’s stomach. He tried to twist away, but Krauser’s grip was iron. "Don’t fucking touch me," he snarled, the defiance brittle. His ruined hand twitched uselessly.
Krauser ignored him. His attentions became methodical. He kissed and licked down the long line of Tel’s back, tracing the knobs of his spine, the curve of his flank. His touch was proprietary, mapping territory already conquered. He lingered on the bruises blooming on Tel’s hips, pressing his lips against the mottled skin, a silent reminder of how they got there. His rough hands smoothed over Tel’s ribs, his chest, his shoulders, leaving trails of wet heat that felt like brands. Every touch seemed designed to reinforce the bond, to drown Tel deeper in Krauser’s scent, his claim.
Tel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to detach, to retreat into the numb indifference he usually wore like armor. But the sensations were too intense, too violating in their tenderness. He felt raw, flayed open. The heat might be receding, but the vulnerability it left behind was terrifying. He bit his lip, tasting blood, focusing on that small pain to anchor himself against the overwhelming tide of Krauser’s unwanted intimacy.
Krauser worked his way back up, his lips finding the claiming bite again. He laved at the swollen, punctured flesh with his tongue, a possessive grooming. Tel stiffened, a choked sound escaping him. "Still hurts, huh?" Krauser murmured against his neck, his breath warm. "Good. Should remember it every time you try to run."
The door to the rickety cabin creaked open.
Both men froze. Krauser’s head snapped up, his body instantly coiled and alert, his protective grip on Tel tightening almost painfully. Tel’s eyes flew open, squinting against the weak grey light flooding the doorway. Rain lashed at the silhouette standing there, water dripping from a dark trench coat.
Leon S. Kennedy stood framed in the doorway, his expression unreadable in the shadows. His blue eyes, however, swept the scene with unnerving precision: Tel’s torn hoodie hanging open, his pants down around his thighs, his neck a mess of blood and bruising, Krauser’s massive form wrapped around him possessively, the air thick with the unmistakable scent of sex, blood, and Alpha-Omega claiming.
For a long, tense moment, the only sounds were the drumming rain and the groan of the old factory.
Leon’s gaze finally settled on Krauser, his voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a knife, cold and devoid of inflection. "Krauser. Let him go. Now."
The command hung in the fetid air, sharp and final. Leon’s hand hovered near the holster beneath his rain-slicked trench coat, his posture coiled, ready. Krauser didn’t move his arm from around Tel’s waist. He just chuckled, a low, grating sound that vibrated against Tel’s bruised back.
"Kennedy," Krauser drawled, his breath hot on Tel’s neck. "Always sticking your nose where it don't belong. Even in this pissing rain." He squeezed Tel tighter, making him gasp. "Can't you see we're busy?"
Tel’s skin crawled. He tried to shove Krauser’s arm away, but his mangled hand screamed in protest, weak and clumsy. "Leon," he rasped, his voice thick with shame and desperation. "Get out. Just... go." He couldn’t bear the agent seeing him like this, pinned, claimed, reeking of Krauser and his own heat.
Leon’s gaze flickered to Tel’s ruined hand, the savage bite on his neck, the raw vulnerability held against Krauser’s bulk. His jaw tightened, a flicker of something dark crossing his weary face. Not pity. Recognition. A grim understanding of violation. "He needs medical attention, Krauser," Leon stated, his voice cold steel. "And you need to answer for this. Step away."
Krauser shifted, finally lifting his head. He slowly, deliberately, eased his grip on Tel, letting the younger man sag back onto the filthy cot. Tel scrambled to yank up his pants, fingers fumbling with the torn fabric, his face burning. Krauser stood, unfolding his massive frame to its full, intimidating height. He stretched lazily, the movement predatory. "Answer? To who? You?" He took a step towards Leon, blocking the doorway. "Always the white knight, Leon. Even when the damsel's a walking biohazard."
Leon didn’t flinch. His hand dipped beneath his coat, fingers closing around the grip of his pistol. "Last warning, Krauser. Stand down." Rainwater dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his stoic face. The storm’s howl seemed louder now, filling the tense silence.
That’s when Krauser paused. His nostrils flared, scenting the air again, deeper this time. His gaze sharpened on Leon, raking over him with new, predatory interest. A slow, wide grin spread across Krauser’s face, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp. "Well, well," he rumbled, the sound laced with dark amusement and sudden, intense hunger. "The plot thickens. Smell that, Leon? Underneath the rain and cordite?"
Leon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his grip tightening on his gun. "Smell what?"
Krauser took another step closer, invading Leon’s space. The air crackled with tension. "Ozone. Gunpowder. And something else... something sweet." He inhaled deeply, almost theatrically. "Desperation. Heat. You reek of it, Kennedy. Like a bitch in season trying to hide her scent." Krauser’s grin turned feral. "Fuck me sideways. Two Omegas. One freshly claimed," he jerked his head towards Tel, who stared in dawning horror, "and one just starting to burn. What are the odds?"
Leon’s expression didn’t change, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. His knuckles whitened on the pistol grip. "You're delusional, Krauser. Back. Off." The command was flat, dangerous. He started to draw the weapon.
Krauser moved. Not towards the gun, but past it.
He was a blur. One moment standing, the next lunging forward with terrifying speed. Leon was fast, incredibly fast, bringing his pistol up. But Krauser’s cybernetic forearm slammed into Leon’s wrist, knocking the gun aside with a metallic clang before it cleared the holster. Leon pivoted, driving a sharp elbow towards Krauser’s throat.
Krauser caught the blow on his flesh forearm, absorbing the impact with a grunt. His other hand, the heavy metal one, shot out like a piston. Not a punch. A brutal, open-handed slap aimed at the side of Leon’s head.
It connected with a sickening thud. Leon’s head snapped sideways. His eyes rolled back, instantly unfocused. His body went rigid, then limp as a ragdoll. He crumpled silently to the grimy floorboards, landing in a heap beside the cot, rainwater pooling around him.
Tel stared, frozen. "No..." The word was a choked whisper. Leon Kennedy, the unflappable agent, taken down in one vicious strike. Krauser stood over the fallen man, breathing hard, a look of savage triumph on his face.
"Two for the price of one," Krauser chuckled, nudging Leon’s unconscious form with his boot. "Lucky damn day." He turned, his gaze locking onto Tel. "Don’t get any ideas, pretty boy. You're next for scenting. But first..." He scanned the cluttered cabin, his eyes landing on a coil of thick, coarse rope hanging near some rusted tools. "Gotta secure my new prize."
He strode over, yanking the rope free. Tel tried to scramble backwards on the cot, his mangled hand searing with pain. Krauser ignored him. He hauled Leon’s limp body closer to the cot, rolling him roughly onto his stomach. With brutal efficiency, he yanked Leon’s arms behind his back and began binding his wrists tightly with the rope. He looped more around Leon’s ankles, then secured his wrists to his ankles in a painful hogtie. The knots were tight, unforgiving, biting into Leon’s soaked coat sleeves.
Finished with Leon, Krauser turned his attention to Tel. "Your turn." He grabbed Tel’s uninjured left wrist. Tel instinctively tried to pull away. Krauser backhanded him across the face, snapping his head back. Stars exploded behind Tel’s eyes, the taste of blood flooding his mouth from a split lip. "None of that," Krauser growled. He hauled Tel off the cot, shoving him down beside the unconscious Leon.
Tel landed hard on his knees on the cold, wet floorboards, jarring his injuries. Krauser forced his left arm back, then his right, ignoring Tel’s cry of agony as he wrenched the mangled limb. He bound Tel’s wrists together behind his back with the same coarse rope, the fibers scraping his skin raw. More rope secured his ankles. He was trussed up, helpless, kneeling inches from Leon’s prone form.
Krauser stepped back, surveying his captives. Rainwater dripped from the ceiling, landing with soft splats near Leon’s face. Tel’s own blood trickled from his lip, mixing with the grime on the floor. The combined scents of Alpha dominance, Tel’s fading heat, and Leon’s newly recognized Omega desperation filled the cramped, damp space, thick and cloying.
Krauser crouched down between them, his massive frame blocking the weak light from the door. He ran a thick finger almost thoughtfully down the side of Leon’s pale, unconscious face, then traced the fresh bruise blooming on Tel’s cheek. His grin was wide, predatory, filled with dark anticipation. "Look at that," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in Tel’s bones. "My very own Omega pair. Gonna be a real interesting storm."
Rainwater dripped from Krauser’s jaw onto the filthy floorboards beside Leon’s unconscious face. The agent’s prone form, trussed like game, seemed impossibly vulnerable against the gritty backdrop of the decaying cabin. Krauser’s thick finger traced the sharp line of Leon’s jaw, then shifted, digging knuckles into the fresh bruise darkening Telemachus’s cheekbone. Tel flinched, ropes biting into his wrists and mangled right hand. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth from his split lip.
"Gotta have a front-row seat for this," Krauser rumbled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He grabbed Leon’s bound shoulders and heaved, rolling the unconscious agent onto his side facing Tel. Leon’s head lolled, strands of wet blond hair plastered across his forehead, his breathing shallow but steady. Krauser adjusted him roughly, propping his upper body slightly against a rusted tool chest, forcing Leon’s gaze inevitably towards where Tel knelt. "Wakey wakey, Kennedy. Don't wanna miss the show."
Tel tried to twist away, to shut his eyes. Krauser’s hand clamped onto the back of his neck, fingers digging into the pulsing agony of the claiming bite. "Look at him, Omega," Krauser growled, his breath hot and foul on Tel’s ear. "Look at the great Leon S. Kennedy, all trussed up. Waiting. Watching you." He yanked Tel’s head forward, forcing him to stare into Leon’s slack features. "See him? Good. Now keep those pretty eyes open."
Tel’s stomach churned. He saw the faint flutter beneath Leon’s eyelids. He’s coming around. The realization hit like ice water, followed by a wave of scalding shame. Krauser’s free hand was already tearing at Tel’s pants again, shoving the ruined fabric past his trembling thighs. The cold, damp air hit Tel’s exposed skin, making him shudder violently.
"Fuck you," Tel hissed, the defiance brittle, useless. His body betrayed him, slick already gathering between his thighs, the lingering dregs of heat and the crushing proximity of Krauser’s Alpha dominance reigniting the fire low in his belly. He felt utterly exposed, vulnerable, pinned between the storm’s fury outside and Krauser’s savagery within. The ropes chafed, his ruined hand throbbed, and Leon’s stirring presence amplified the humiliation tenfold.
"Fuck me? Oh, yeah," Krauser chuckled darkly. He spat into his palm, the sound obscenely loud, then slicked his already hardening cock with rough strokes. His other hand remained locked on Tel’s neck, a constant, painful pressure. The blunt, swollen head of his cock pressed insistently against Tel’s slick entrance. "Gonna fill you up right in front of your hero. Make him watch his backup get properly ruined." He leaned down, his lips brushing Tel’s ear. "Think he likes what he sees?"
Tel squeezed his eyes shut, but Krauser’s hand on his neck tightened like a vice. "Eyes open, bitch." Reluctantly, Tel pried his eyelids apart. Leon’s eyes were open now. Slitted, bleary, but unmistakably conscious. Recognition flickered, then horror bloomed in the agent’s exhausted blue eyes as he took in the scene mere feet away: Tel, bound and exposed, Krauser’s massive frame behind him, the thick cock poised at his entrance.
"No...!" Leon rasped, his voice thick and slurred from the blow. He strained against the ropes binding his wrists to his ankles, muscles bunching under the soaked trench coat, but the knots held firm. "Krauser! Don’t—!"
Krauser ignored him. He surged forward, burying himself inside Tel in one brutal, tearing thrust. Tel screamed, a raw, ragged sound that echoed off the metal walls, his body bowing against the ropes. He felt split open, impaled, the sheer, brutal invasion stealing his breath. Krauser bottomed out hard, his balls slapping against Tel’s ass. Leon’s choked gasp mingled with Tel’s agony.
"See that, Kennedy?" Krauser grunted, beginning a relentless rhythm. Slow, powerful withdrawals followed by punishing drives back in. Each thrust hammered Tel forward, jolting his bound arms, forcing grunts of pain mixed with involuntary moans from his ravaged throat. Krauser’s hand slid from Tel’s neck down his chest, fingers pinching a nipple brutally hard. "See how your little bio-weapon takes it? See how wet he gets for a real Alpha cock?"
Tel’s vision blurred. Pain screamed from his neck, his hand, his core. Yet, beneath the violation, a treacherous pulse of pleasure ignited deep inside, fanned by Krauser’s relentless pistoning. He bit his lip bloody trying to stifle the sounds, but choked whimpers escaped. He could see Leon’s face, pale and strained, eyes wide with a mixture of fury, revulsion, and dawning, helpless horror. Watching. Seeing every brutal inch Krauser claimed.
"Look at him, Omega!" Krauser commanded, slamming in hard, grinding his hips against Tel’s ass. "Look at Leon watching you get fucked like a cheap whore!" He grabbed Tel’s jaw, forcing his head around towards Leon. Tel met Leon’s gaze. The agent’s stare was locked on him, intense, unblinking. The shame was suffocating, hotter than Krauser’s touch. Tel squeezed his eyes shut again.
Krauser slapped his ass, hard. The sting made him gasp, eyes flying open. "Keep watching him!" Krauser snarled. "He needs to see what happens to disobedient Omegas. Needs to see what’s coming for him." His thrusts became faster, harder, losing any semblance of rhythm, pure animal rutting. The wet slap of flesh, Krauser’s guttural grunts, Tel’s broken cries, and Leon’s harsh breathing formed a grotesque symphony. Tel’s body, traitorously, coiled tighter. The friction, the overwhelming fullness, the degrading spectacle – it was dragging him towards an inevitable, devastating peak he didn’t want.
Leon’s voice cut through the noise, low, strained, but edged with steel. "Telemachus... fight it. Don’t... give him that." His gaze held Tel’s, a desperate plea buried beneath the horror.
Krauser laughed, a harsh bark. "Too late for that!" He slammed home, deep, and held himself there. One hand clamped back on Tel’s neck, pressing the claiming bite, the other snaked around his hip, fingers finding Tel’s swollen clit. He rubbed hard, rough circles. "Come for him, Omega. Show Kennedy how well you take it. Come on my cock while he watches."
The command, the brutal stimulation, the sheer psychic pressure shattered Tel’s resistance. A strangled cry tore from his throat as his body convulsed violently in its bindings. His inner walls clamped down viscously on Krauser’s thick shaft in wave after wave of involuntary, humiliating ecstasy. Slick gushed, soaking Krauser’s cock and thighs. Tel’s head dropped, chin hitting his chest, trembling uncontrollably, utterly spent, the ropes the only thing holding him upright.
Krauser roared, a sound of pure, feral triumph. He pistoned into Tel’s clenching heat three more brutal times before driving in to the hilt. Tel felt the hot, thick pulse deep inside as Krauser’s seed flooded him, marking him again, filling him in front of Leon’s horrified eyes. Krauser collapsed slightly over Tel’s back, breathing heavily, grinding his hips to milk the last drops.
He stayed buried for a long moment, basking in the aftershocks rocking Tel’s body and Leon’s silent, furious stare. Finally, with a wet, sucking sound, he pulled out. Cum and slick dripped from Tel’s abused hole onto the filthy floor. Krauser wiped himself carelessly on Tel’s discarded pants before turning, his attention shifting fully to Leon. He adjusted himself, his cock still thick and glistening.
"Alright, Princess," Krauser grinned, stepping over Tel’s trembling form towards Leon. He crouched, his shadow engulfing the bound agent. "Your turn. Time to see what all Kennedy fuss is about." He reached out, fingers hooking into the collar of Leon’s soaked trench coat. "Gonna make you scream louder than he did."