Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13674255.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Gen, M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work, Dragons_vs._Humans, Freedom_Trilogy-_Kyt_Rivers
  Relationship:
      Leon&Rex, Leon/Rastin
  Character:
      Rex, Leon, Rastin
  Additional Tags:
      very_underage_sex, BDSM, not_safe_or_sane_but_it's_mostly_consensual?,
      Rastin_is_a_dick_but_we_love_him_anyways, young_leon_is_so_fun_for_me_to
      write, young_leon, Sadism, Knives, Unconventional_Sex_Toys, Dragons,
      threats_and_friendships, will_update_more_tags
  Series:
      Part 3 of Dragons_vs_Humans
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-14 Words: 3924
****** Assassin/Assassin ******
by Kalydon
Summary
     Father is going to be mad, and Leon doesn't want to go Home.
     Rex provides a very slight distraction.
     Rastin provides a much bigger one.
     SEQUEL to: Assassin vs Assassin: When Assassins Fight Assassins For
     The Right To Assassinate A Mutual Target
     (Damn, Red, you really know how to be Extra with the titles, don't
     you? ;))
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Leon finished off the last of the guards of the human compound and turned to
face his injured, temporary partner who was leaning against the wall, breathing
heavily. Leon smirked. “Whimp,” he muttered, ignoring the glare that the dragon
sent his way at the comment. He finished cleaning off his katana and held out
his hand with an eyebrow raised expectantly.
Rex fished out the knives and handed them over with a hint of reluctance that
Leon ignored.
Maybe  they would help smooth things over with Father.  Maybe . He doubted it.
He probably should have found some way to skin the dragon in front of him….
“So….” Rex shifted uncomfortably.
Leon was severely tempted to just brush the dragon off and walk away, but… the
sooner he walked away, the sooner he would have to face Father. The thought
made him wince, and he was suddenly looking for a topic of conversation. “Nice
knives,” he blurted out.
Rex looked at him a bit oddly. “Thanks. I’m sure they’ll fetch a decent price.”
Leon rolled his eyes. “I’m not  selling  them,”  assuming I even get to keep
them . “How stupid do you think I am?”
Rex looked a bit floored by that response. “I… assumed you could use the
money.” He made a vague, half-aborted gesture to what looked like Leon’s coat.
Leon glanced over his shoulder at the coat that was dragging in the mud. “I
don’t need money,” he said, despite all the evidence to the contrary, and he
sounded damn certain of it too. “I have everything I need.”
He didn’t realize how  vehemently  he had said it until Rex held up his hands
in defense. “I’m sure you do!”
Leon cringed and sighed, suddenly leaning back against the wall of the isolated
keep, letting his head thud against the stone. “Fuck.” He thought that summed
up his situation quite perfectly.
“What?” Rex asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Leon picked his head up and looked at the ground instead. “My father’s going to
be pissed,” he said simply, like that should explain everything.
“Why? Stayed out too late?” Rex sounded incredulous.
Leon glared at him half-heartedly. “Didn’t kill the person I was supposed to,”
he growled, narrowing his eyes at Rex dangerously, who recoiled from the
murderous expression.
“Why should he care? The guy’s still dead,” Rex pointed out slowly.
Leon hissed in through his teeth. “It doesn’t  matter . The assignment was that
I  was supposed to kill him,” he snapped. He suddenly drew his blade and
started swinging it agitatedly as he paced. “I led you kill him first and then
I didn’t even kill  you .”
Rex shifted, hand reaching casually for his own blade.
Leon’s katana was flicked up to his throat before he had moved his hand more
than an inch. “Don’t,” Leon warned, his eyes finally following the track of his
blade to look Rex in the eyes.
Rex slowly pulled his hands away and showed them to Leon, palms facing
outwards. “We had a truce,” he said slowly. “We can both just walk away.”
Leon stared at him for a beat. “Father would tell me to kill you,” he
whispered, voice barely audible, but just as Rex’s life started flashing before
his eyes, Leon let the tip of his katana fall to the mud. “Go,” he said simply,
eyes on the ground. “Get out of here, dragon.”
Rex didn’t need to be told twice, and he was almost out of hearing distance
when Leon’s voice called after him.
“Don’t forget- you owe me one!”
Leon watched the dragon disappear and then quickly cleaned and sheathed his
blade before hurrying away from the keep, into the forest, and towards the base
where he had set up shop for the series of missions he had carried out in the
area. That general had been the last one on his list; it was time to go Home
now.
He entered the small, abandoned hut, the door slamming shut behind him, and he
was already shirking out of his wet coat when he felt cold steel against his
back through his shirt. He froze.
“Sloppy,” a familiar voice hissed, and Leon could have laughed at the flood of
relief that ran through him even as Rastin crowded up against him, the heat of
the older boy’s body making him notice just how fucking cold he was as he
shivered.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, turning around as Rastin removed the knife
to allow it. His back was to the door now, and Rastin crowded him up even
further against it until Leon barely had space to breathe. He held Leon’s hands
over his head with one hand, gently traced the tip of his darksteel knife over
Leon’s cheek with his other, not pressing quite hard enough to draw blood.
“Came to find you,” he murmured, his breath washing over Leon’s face as Leon
closed his eyes. “Father was getting worried.”
Leon made a soft distressed sound.
Rastin pulled away instantly, putting a good foot of space between them and
leaving Leon to almost fall to the floor without Rastin holding him up. “What
did you do, kid?” His voice cracked like a whip, and Leon flinched, taking a
deep breath to pull himself back together.
“Someone got to the general first,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “He’s
dead, but not by my hand. I was  seconds  too late.”
“Fuck,” Rastin hissed, loud and angry, and Leon heard something smash to the
ground though he didn’t look up to see what it was. “Who did it? Did you see
them? Did you kill them?”
Leon swallowed and forced himself to meet Rastin’s eyes. “It was a dragon. I…
beat him, but….”
“You didn’t kill him,” Rastin sighed. “Because of  course  you didn’t.”
“I’m not going to tell Father I even saw him,” Leon said quickly, but his
breath was already coming in short gasps, and  fuck  he didn’t want to go Home
and he could already feel the chains wrapped around his wrists as he hung from
the ceiling, and Father-
A sharp pain rushed across his chest, and suddenly he could breath again.
The knife in Rastin’s hand was dripping blood now.
Leon looked down. The wound was shallow across his chest, not like the one the
dragon had given him, and could easily be explained as a battle injury. More
importantly, it gave him something on which to focus. He could  breathe .
“Dragon do that?” Rastin asked, gesturing to the much worse wound on his arm.
Leon nodded dumbly.
“Get up,” Rastin told him, and Leon struggled to obey, coming to sit on the
bed.
Rastin was kneeling in front of him, and Leon watched in silence as the older
boy bound up his wound, hissing briefly at the sting of alcohol as Rastin
splashed some old vodka on it. “So that’s it? General was dead when you walked
in; you beat the dragon and then walked away?”
Leon shook his head. “He… helped me get out.”
“You need the help?” Rastin asked dubiously as he tied off the wrappings
harshly.
“No,” Leon bit out against the pain. “He gave me these too.” He pulled out the
throwing knives.
Rastin admired them for about twenty seconds. “Hard to say you never saw the
murderer and explain that he gave you those too.”
Leon met Rastin’s gaze steadily. “I thought you might like them.”
Rastin arched an eyebrow, amused, but he took the blades, whistling as he
admired the craftsmanship. “I might need to torture a dragon to learn how to
make these sometime.”
Leon snorted and started to stand.
Rastin stopped him with a quick hand wrapped around his wrist and turned to
look at him, arching an eyebrow in silent question.
Leon knew what he was asking. He hesitated just for a moment and then sat back
down, a mixture of trepidation and excitement in his eyes as he swallowed. “You
want to try them out?”
Rastin’s smile was sharp. “Hard to tell how much they’re worth without at least
getting them wet first.”
Leon exhaled slightly and then laid down on his stomach, his entire body tense
as Rastin stood and sat on his lower back before taking the blade first to
Leon’s shirt. He was surprised at how easily the fabric gave way before the
knife, and he pulled his hand back briefly to stare thoughtfully at the blade.
He smiled wickedly.
Leon shifted under him unintentionally, and Rastin’s eyes narrowed on the back
of his head before he abruptly slashed across the top of Leon’s back, just
under his shoulder blades. What had been meant to be a shallow cut split his
skin deeply, and Rastin’s eyes widened, turning black, as Leon hissed loudly
and sharply at the unexpected pain.
“What the  fuck  did you just do?”
Rastin stared in silence for a beat as the blood started running down Leon’s
back, falling in trails that were somewhat dictated by the raised scar tissue
caused by the patterns already drawn all over Leon’s back. He shook himself out
of it after a moment. “These things are fucking  sharp ,” he noted, his lips
curving up in a smirk.
“Father’s going to kill me,” Leon muttered faintly, voice muffled into the flat
pillow.
Rastin felt a brief flash of anger. Leon was  his ; he should be able to do
what he wanted. “I’ll think of a reason,” he soothed the younger boy gently. He
didn’t want the kid to bolt. Despite their current situation, Leon was still
the better swordsman, to his everlasting annoyance.
Leon said something else, but Rastin couldn’t hear him this time and he didn’t
really care. “Give me your hands,” he commanded, his voice already having
dropped almost a full octave.
Leon obeyed, putting his hands together at the small of his back. Rastin
glanced around briefly and grabbed one of the sheets that had been knocked to
the ground, cutting off a decent chunk and then using it to bind Leon’s hands
behind his back- tight, but not so tight as to cut off circulation.
Leon made another soft sound, but this time it wasn’t a complaint; it was very
nearly a moan, and Rastin grinned.
He didn’t say anything though as he started to gently cut into Leon’s skin with
the tip of the dragonblade. Leon’s dark skin, despite already being covered in
thin scars, was a canvas, and Rastin painted it with dark shades of red. The
blood trickled down Leon’s back and pooled down where his hands were resting,
staining the sheets red and even running down to Rastin’s increasingly tight
pants.
Leon’s breath was growing more erratic and unbalanced every second, and
Rastin’s smile turned sharper and more predatory. He took the knife and moved
over to that one scar- the one marring of an otherwise perfect piece of art. It
was long, thick, and jagged as it ran parallel to Leon’s spine, and he ever so
carefully pressed the tip down, piercing through the scar tissue and drawing
blood from the same place again.
Leon cried out softly, his hands fisting where they were bound together, nails
biting into his skin so hard that he nearly drew blood himself.
Rastin’s smile gentled just slightly, and he gently stroked a hand down Leon’s
exposed side, feeling the skin flutter under his touch, he leaned forward over
Leon with his hand planted on the side of the skinny boy, careful not to put
more pressure on the blade, and brushed his lips against the top of Leon’s
head. “Shhhh,” he hushed softly, and Leon stopped jerking under him- which was
important.
Rastin had no intention of damaging the boy permanently.
He didn’t stop though, and once Leon stilled Rastin continued to reopen the
scar along a much thinner line. He pulled the knife down to about halfway
through the full length of the original scar before he stopped. Leon was
shaking  under him, and he was worried that if he kept going much further the
boy was going to make his hand slip. Just because Sylas had fucked up the
canvas once didn’t mean he was going to make the same mistake.
Rastin slowly stopped and threw the blade to the side. It embedded itself in
the wall across the length of the small hut.
“Still with me, kid?” he checked softly, his voice gravelly.
Leon didn’t say anything for a long moment, although Rastin could still feel
him shaking under him.
“Kid?”
“Fuck off,” Leon hissed.
Rastin laughed lowly in the in back of his throat. “I’m gonna take that to mean
that you’re still good.”
“Father….” Leon stopped to breathe, his voice cracking. “Father is going to
want to know… how exactly…  that  happened.”
Rastin leaned down over Leon’s back, his own shirt pressing against the open
wounds he had left there and making Leon hiss. “Maybe the dragon fucked you.”
His own knife, long and curved and dangerous, found its way to his hand from
where it was strapped to his leg, and he dragged it down Leon’s side.
The kid jerked suddenly. “Fuuuck,” he hissed, “you were fucking  done .”
Rastin arched an eyebrow even though Leon couldn’t see it and rolled his hips
against the kid. “Are we?”
Leon stilled for a long moment and then exhaled raggedly. “No,” he breathed
unsteadily, “just… watch the scarring, would you?”
Rastin laughed and then bit down against Leon’s shoulder- hard.
Leon jerked again, and a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper left his
lips.
“I doubt the dragon would have been gentle,” he whispered directly in Leon’s
ear. He shoved his long blade back into the sheath on his leg and grabbed one
of the other dragonblade throwing knives from the nearby table. He tucked it in
between his teeth and then jerked Leon’s trousers down roughly. The kid helped
him a bit, having known it was coming, and he smirked around the blade.
He reached into the pocket of his own jacket and pulled out a small jar of oil.
He had  no idea  for what it was meant to be used. He sincerely doubted that
many people used it for its intended purpose though, considering he’d gotten it
from a pirate. He slicked up three fingers and then took the knife from his
teeth with the other hand. He traced the edge of the thick scar on the lower
half this time, not pressing quite hard enough to break the skin.
Leon was inhaling shakily already, and he made a soft sound of distress when
Rastin returned to the scar.
Rastin slipped a finger inside of him, and Leon swore.
“I fucking hate you,” he grumbled, relaxing almost immediately.
Rastin grinned and then moved the knife away from the scar to the other side of
Leon’s spine, tracing a line there that followed the same path as the thick,
jagged,  unartistic  thing that Sylas had done. He continued working Leon open,
adding another finger and stretching him open.
He adjusted his grip on the handle of the blade in his sweaty hand- and paused.
Another wicked smile crept across his face and he removed his fingers to take
the knife in his other hand. Then he grabbed Leon’s hair and jerked his head up
with his other one, holding the knife up to his mouth. “Hold this,” he
commanded roughly.
Leon craned his neck around briefly in order to shoot Rastin a glare before
obediently opening his mouth to hold the knife between his teeth. He had to
keep his head at an awkward angle to avoid pushing it against the bed and
therefore back against his mouth.
Rastin grabbed the jar of oil again and the third and final dragonblade. The
handle was mostly flat and perfectly smooth, with a gentle curvature to it. He
grinned and then slicked it up with the oil. He inserted two fingers again,
ignoring Leon’s annoyed grunt about still having the knife in his mouth, and
then carefully pressed the handle of the throwing knife inside of him
carefully, angling the handle downwards.
Leon was shaking again and clearly having a bit of trouble keeping his head out
of the bed considering the knife, so Rastin had a bit of pity on him and
reached forward with his free hand to get the knife back.
Leon exhaled shakily. “That… is… odd,” he finally managed.
Rastin chuckled. “Odd?” he repeated, twisting the handle inside Leon a bit. It
was cutting into his own hand from that position, but he ignored that.
Leon let out a startled sound. “Fuck you,” he hissed.
Rastin rolled his eyes and put the tip of the blade in his hand against the
bottom of the jagged scar and pressed down without any warning at all.
Leon whimpered loudly and put his head back in the bed to muffle the sound.
“Stop cursing at me,” Rastin said in annoyance and then started slowly fucking
Leon with the blade, the blood from his hand running down the blade and working
as more lubrication.
He could tell as soon as he got enough depth and pressure to hit his target, as
Leon’s entire body jolted, although he didn’t make a sound this time.
Rastin grinned sharply and kept going. Now that he had a rhythm with his left
hand, he adjusted his grip on the blade in his right and found the point where
he’d stopped cutting into the scar before, ever so slowly breaking through the
skin again and pulling downwards more. He was  quite determined  to make that
his  mark on Leon rather than that fucking bastard’s.
Leon was shaking, but it was controlled enough that it didn’t throw off
Rastin’s movements, and he kept going.
“You…. you have to stop,” Leon whispered, voice almost completely gone.
Rastin had less than an inch on the scar left, and he hesitated.
“I- you…. I can’t... breathe.”
It wasn’t exactly true, but it was how Leon tended to express panic. Rastin
made a split second decision. He pulled the handle out of Leon at the exact
same time that he finished the cut on the scar, making Leon give a full body
shudder just a second after Rastin had pulled the blade away.
It could have been bad, but Rastin was quite pleased with the result as it was.
He laid back across Leon’s back to be able to speak soothingly into his ear.
“Can you move?” When Leon took several seconds to respond, Rastin tried again,
digging his teeth briefly into his shoulder, though not enough to draw blood
this time. “Kid?”
“Yeah,” Leon’s response came. He sounded almost like he was underwater without
muffled he was. “Where…. Where do you want me?”
The smile that flickered over Rastin’s face then was almost gentle in nature
before he leaned back and held himself up by his knees on both sides of Leon’s
body so that he wasn’t pinning the boy to the bed. First he cut off the sheet
that had bound Leon’s wrists together and then he grabbed Leon’s hips and
twisted, prompting him to roll over.
Leon cursed, the sheets against the wounds on his back bringing him back from
near  unconsciousness. “Bloody Khane’s Legions and Nightmares,” Leon grumbled
loudly, making Rastin smirk.
“Back with me, Kid?”
Leon closed his eyes briefly as he let his head fall back on the blood-stained
pillow. “Did I leave?”
Rastin smiled. He reached for the oil again and this time slicked himself up,
his bloody pants finding their way to the floor. He pressed into the smaller
teen slowly, and Leon actually rocked forward to meet him.
A moment later, though, when the kid groaned, he wasn’t sure if it was for the
purpose of meeting Rastin’s thrust or to move his back against the sheets.
Rastin took his bleeding hand and wrapped it around Leon, jerking him off in
time to his thrusts.
At this point, it didn’t take very long.
Rastin rolled off of him and laid to the side, muttering obscenities under his
breath. “Still with me?”
“Don’t think I could move to go anywhere.”
Rastin shrugged a single shoulder. “You’ve surprised me before.”
Leon breathed a short laugh. He started to roll over to get out of the blood-
soaked and soiled bed and then hissed loudly and collapsed again. “Fucking
Oblivion Fissures,” he growled. His arm was killing him and his entire back
felt like it was on fire.
“Don’t do that,” Rastin told him calmly, sitting up. He gently pushed on Leon’s
side to roll him over, and the kid hissed loudly again as he did as he was
told.
Rastin resumed his former seated position and rifled through the linens until
he found some that weren’t completely ruined. Before he started to wrap the
injuries though, he reached for the bottle of vodka and dumped all of what
remained over Leon’s back.
Leon twisted around just in order to make eye contact with Rastin. “Fuck. You.”
“Nope. You  just  had your chance,” Rastin told him with a smirk, and Leon
couldn’t help but crack a smile as he let his head drop again.
Rastin bound the wounds quickly and efficiently, careful not to give them time
to come in contact with anything else in the meantime. Infections were a  bitch
, especially with Sylas’ opinions on any kind of drugs.  Bastard , Rastin
thought yet again as he bound up the scar that he had reopened. The scar that
had been given to Leon because he dared to get some drugs for himself and the
others after Sylas went on a rampage and most of them couldn’t even stand up
straight because of the pain.
Rastin gently leaned forward. “Done,” he whispered quietly in the kid’s ear.
Leon stirred rather slowly, and he sat up with a wince as Rastin got off of
him. He glanced down at his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles and
covered in bodily fluids and the shirt that Rastin had literally cut off of him
on the floor. “You destroyed my clothes.”
Rastin glanced down at his own ruined clothes. “It’s your blood all over
everything.”
Leon rolled his eyes- hard. “I really do hate you.”
Rastin grinned and leaned into Leon’s space. “No, you don’t,” he said softly.
Leon looked at him for a beat and then admitted, “No, I don’t.”
“We should get going.”
“Yeah. Father will be waiting.” Leon almost managed not to wince when he said
it.
Rastin frowned at him as they stood, Leon pulling out a bag with some spare
clothes and tossing a pair of pants and a shirt at Rastin. He decided to forgo
a shirt himself, just pulling on his coat after he put on his pants, wincing as
it pulled at his arm.
Leon straightened and turned, about to head for the door, when Rastin rather
abruptly grabbed him by his good arm and spun him around, pulling him into an
uncharacteristic hug.
Leon froze for a few seconds before relaxing, laying his head on Rastin’s
chest. “What was that?” he asked softly a moment later when they pulled apart.
Rastin’s eyes were unreadable. “I’m not him.”
Leon blinked, stunned for a brief moment before he nodded firmly. “I have never
once thought that you were.”
Rastin nodded once, a quick jerk of his head, and then the two of them left the
cabin and headed towards Home.
End Notes
     Blame Red for LITERALLY EVERYTHING. This is ENTIRELY their fault.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!