kyougan

Tonight’s as good a night as ever, Eren thinks. His roommate, Armin, insists on hosting a game night every other week-ish to ‘get the gang together.’ But game nights are hard. No one can listen long enough to learn the rules. So game nights soon devolved into movie nights, which turned into drinking nights after no one could ever agree on a movie. 

That’s the plan for the evening: to have a couple of beers or seltzers or whatever his friends planned on bringing, and to spend some time with you. Alone.

You walked into the apartment huffing and puffing, unsurprisingly pissed about whatever your boyfriend did or didn’t do this time. You’ve spent most of the night wallowing in your displeasure, trying to hide it but failing miserably. Eren can tell you’re furiously texting Sasha every little detail despite sitting across from one another.  

If you were to ask any of your friends, they’d probably say they used to think you and Eren would date. You had that energy about you. Still do. But then you met your boyfriend, things progressed, and you’ve been seeing each other ever since. On and off, of course. 

Eren dated other people, too. And sure, he liked them, but that’s as far as it would get. Finding happiness is difficult when he constantly sees the greener grass on the other side. 

He thought it might be a timing thing, the reason the two of you never hooked up. It made sense back then. But now, Eren knows it’s not a timing thing because he’s single, and you can dump your boyfriend any time you want—if that’s what you want. 

Eren could pry. He could be forthright and ask what you’re texting Sasha about. But that would get him nowhere, with a coordinated response of ‘girl stuff,’ and the subject would inevitably die there. 

You never talk about your boyfriend problems when Eren is around. Not that he expected you to; he would have written it off a long time ago if he hadn’t overheard you confiding in Armin. Jean, too. Anyone who would listen, it sure seemed like, besides Eren. You know, the one person who really, really wanted to know. After all, he’s certain he could show you how much better things could be, with him.

So he’ll do just that. He catches you at the right moment, once the two of you are alone—sort of. Armin had gone to bed. Sasha had left and taken Jean and Connie with her. The only guests remaining are you and Mikasa—and she’s been sitting heavy-eyed on the couch for the last twenty minutes. 

Then there’s you, all squirmy beside him.

“Are you cold?” Eren asks. He knows that’s not the reason, and he also knows you’d never ask the more direct question, ‘Are you all right?’

“I’m fine,” you whisper, cautious of disturbing Mikasa as she drifts off. “I’m just—”

“Having a long night?” Eren guesses. 

You sigh, and it’s weighty enough to sound like you’ve held it in for a while.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It’s vague, yet you still feel you said too much. 

Hands in your lap, you mess with your fingers. You focus on that rather than try to look Eren in the eye. You can’t bring yourself to do that right now; it makes your insides burn uncomfortably hot. 

There’s no denying how Eren makes you feel. Hell, there’s no denying you came over here tonight with him on your mind. After what transpired with your boyfriend (or was it your ex-boyfriend now? You left unsure of where you stood), how could you not? 

“Is there anything I can do,” Eren slides closer to you on the couch, “to make your night better?”

Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.

You shake your head, gaze low, fixed on his leg pressing against yours. 

“It’s not your problem to fix,” you assure, but it lacks any sureness and almost sounds like a dare.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Eren says, always up for a challenge, especially if you’re the prize at the end. 

You are better than this, you tell yourself. You are above this. 

Still, you can’t help but think: what would your boyfriend do if the roles were reversed? You argued about his fidelity before—you even argued about it a few hours ago—and you have no more clarity than you did at the start.

Maybe you haven’t been perfect, either. Maybe there were times you should’ve told Eren to cut the flirting, and even times you shouldn’t have reciprocated. You thought it was harmless, that you’d never end up exactly where you are now.

You also never imagined how invigorating, how right, it would feel.

Eren places a hand on your thigh, tentatively at first, light despite the guilt weighing down on you. When you don’t stop him, he grows confident; his hand slides higher and squeezes gently. It’s chaste, something that could still pass as friendly if not for how it made you feel.

I am absolutely not above this. 

That’s how you wound up in his bedroom. Eren whispered for Mikasa, and when she didn’t respond, he took it as the go-ahead to lead you somewhere more private. Down the hall, with the door shut and locked behind you, Eren had you to himself for the first time. 

Your heart thrums in your ears. It’s adrenaline, anticipation, a rush you never want to end. You hardly hear him when he asks, “How can I make your night better?” He nears you in a single step. “What would you like me to do?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you murmur, too shy to say what he wants to hear: that you want him. You want his mouth on yours, maybe on your neck, too. His hands on your chest, smoothing down your hips and between your legs. 

Instead of saying it, you lean into Eren wordlessly. You tilt your chin high to meet him, and he catches it between his fingers. He guides you to him gently. Your noses brush, your lips don’t. It’s close. So close. Enough for your lashes to flutter softly against his cheek, for you to feel every one of his warm breaths as they break over your lips. It’s intoxicating; it’s not enough. But you can’t bring yourself to seal that fateful gap between you. 

“I can’t,” you stammer. Shamefully, you found it hurt to say the words. 

Eren is silent as he pulls away from you. Before he’s too far, you snatched his wrist in your hand. You don’t know why or what you’re thinking besides that you want to keep him there. He remains frozen except for the flicker of his eyes from your hand to your face. He lets you decide where this would or wouldn’t go. 

“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what to do,” you complain. Your head is a spinny, screwed-up disaster. Full of forbidden fantasies and raging hormones and pools of warmth spreading from your stomach to your fingertips—all because of him. 

“What do you want to do?” Eren asks in a low voice. It’s coaxing, cloying, but needful at the same time. You’ve never heard him like this before, yet he sounds familiar. Reminiscent of the same need burning inside you, so hot you think it might burn a hole through you, one only he can fill. 

You lick your bottom lip only to find your mouth has gone dry.

Eren closes in on you. His presence looming, nose nudging the side of your face as he whispers in your ear, “I can tell you what I want to do, if that would help.”

He nuzzles lower, beneath your jawline. He doesn’t kiss you there—no, he would never do that. What he does is worse, somehow. It’s teasing. His breath fans over your ear and sends shockwaves down your spine. He needs you to not only hear but to feel every word, every dirty thing he’s imagined doing with you.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he breathes against the side of your face, warming you from the inside out. His hand clasps over yours and guides it to your belly, then lower. “And I want to watch.”

You could feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes, like there was a fire lit within you. 

“Can you do that for me?” he asks, smooth and soothing. “I’ll only look. I won’t touch, I promise.” 

It’s a lousy excuse for a loophole. Actually, it doesn’t even qualify as a loophole. But the thought had you beyond dizzy. Absolutely head-to-toe flustered.

Eren leans back, holding you by the shoulders. He looks you in the eyes and again insists, “No touching.”

Loophole or not, you can’t find it within you to care. You trust him, you think. Either that, or your brain had short-circuited because you can only repeat back, “No touching,” as you bob your pretty little head. 

Eren smiles down at you, running his knuckles down the side of your face. It’s gentle, it’s praising, and it brings—no, it yanks you back to him. 

“Lie on the bed,” he says. 

You do as told, resting back on your forearms. He tugs your bottoms off with ease and reveals a pair of pale blue panties. An unforgiving color. When you spread your legs for him, he can see how you soaked through them after some innocent teasing. 

You touch yourself without him having to ask again. You trace over the damp patch and play with your clit through the fabric. Eren sees how easily your panties slip between you, how wet you already are, and he has to stifle a curse. 

Eren drops to his knees, nestling between your legs at the foot of the bed. He has a hand on either side of you. Not touching, of course. 

“Look at that.” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “You like it when I talk to you, huh? When I tell you what to do?”

You whine at his words, rub faster. You want to come. 

“So needy. What’s the rush?” Eren tuts. He climbs onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he says it, his hand travels lower. Dangerously low. He palms over his crotch and draws your attention to how hard he is. His insistent cock tents his sweatpants, and he grips himself through the fabric.

You stare with too much interest. The corner of Eren’s lip curls into a smirk when you have to close your hungry mouth. He’s just as greedy, though, just as riled up as you. Even the touch of his own hand has his muscles tightening and twitching. 

You crawl over to his side and try to relax into the pillows as best you can. Your shoulders droop, your knees fall to either side, but there’s a tremble to your hand as it returns between your legs. Your touch remains feather-light as you dance your fingers along the hem of your underwear. You watch unabashedly, with your head lolled to one side as Eren mirrors you. His thumb dips below his waistband.

This still counts as ‘no touching,’ right? 

Eren shoves his hands down his sweatpants. You don’t see it when he takes his cock into his hand, but the outline of him working over his length beneath the fabric was as plain as day.

Your eyes ask the question your lips wouldn’t dare to ask. Eren responds, “You first,” as he looks down at your underwear. 

Your fingers stutter and pause. You’ve already dipped your toes into the corrupted waters, so you might as well take the full plunge. 

You tuck your underwear to the side, pinching them between the crease of your thigh. Your fingers feel almost cold against your feverish skin, and you shiver in response, letting the feeling wreck though every nerve. You clench around nothing. 

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, an incidental hiss. 

He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, and his cock slaps his front. He aches for anything more than his own hand, but it’s all he has right now. It’s agonizing to have what he needs so damn close, yet just out of reach. 

He pumps himself faster, tightening his grip around his tip to mimic your cunt. 

He can only catch glimpses; your panties keep getting in his way, and you have to keep adjusting them. Eren goes to take them off but stops himself short. 

“Take them off,” he tells you, somewhere between a request and a demand. If this was his one chance to be with you, to see you, then he’s going to see all of you. 

You listen. A sticky string connecting your fingers to your cunt snaps, and you can only hope Eren didn’t see it. You’re sure he did, based on the impatient sound that comes from the back of his throat.

You lift your hips off the bed and shimmy your underwear down your legs before kicking them to the floor. 

You don’t settle back into the bed before Eren says, “I want to see more of you,” because this still isn’t enough. “C’mere.”

He adjusts you to his liking until you’re in front of him. You’re lying back on your elbows, spread, with your feet caging his hips. It’s a vulnerable position, you admit. One where you’re completely bare and on display with no shying away. You might have even found it embarrassing, if not for how turned on you are. The urge to come is nagging, simmering for so long that you feel you may boil over and do something you’ll regret. 

“Shit.” Eren’s in awe of the sight before him: your glistening cunt, swollen and practically begging to come, paired with the dreamy expression on your face. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever looked, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Your eyes are as alert as they are moony, as confident as they are flustered; a doe locked in his headlights, willing to eat out of his palm despite her better judgment. 

“Spread yourself for me,” he murmurs. You do so with two fingers. “God, look at you.”

So pretty. What a shame that such a pretty pussy would go unfucked tonight. 

Eren leans back again, this time with a complacent hand tucked behind his head. He spits into his other and slathers it over his cock, unblushing at how your eyes follow every fluid movement.

“Go ahead,” he says, still calmly fisting his cock. “For real this time. Make yourself come for me.”

The encouragement travels straight to your core. You sink your middle finger in first, then add another. You curve them, drag them in and out, until you find a pace that has your thighs threatening to snap shut. You pull out of yourself one last time and, with wetted fingers, you return to your neglected clit. It only takes a few slick circles before your breath quickens.

“Yeah, just like that—fuck.” Eren feels his cock throb against his palm. He slows, pulling and tightening his grip, still pretending his hand is anywhere near as soft as your pussy. “You’ve listened so well. You deserve to come, don’t you think?”

You moan something incoherent. 

“Tell me,” Eren says, smug and urgent, somehow at once. “Tell me what a good girl you’ve been. That you deserve to come.”

Slippery, unforgiving sounds fill the room from both of you, but you’ve already shed and shred of decency you had left. You dipped your toes in first, and then you took a fateful dive. But now you’ve found the current has stripped away any semblance of control you had—or thought you had. 

You’ve become a passenger inside your own body. Every motion feels wild and unpredictable, yet intimately inevitable. It’s strange and exhilarating, this raw, primal surrender to what’s physical and nothing more. 

Flowery language aside, you know one thing for sure: as much as you enjoy hearing him talk filth to you, he enjoys hearing you just as much, if not more. 

“I’m a—ah, I’m your good girl,” you moaned. Your fingers struggle to keep up with your own neediness. “I deserve to come.”

His good girl. 

Eren’s stomach lurches, abdominals tightening. He nearly comes.

What a fucking gift you are. How lucky Eren feels to witness how you get yourself off when no one’s around. 

You bring a hand to your chest, caressing along your nipple gently poking through your shirt.

“Can I see your tits?” Eren blurts, unable to help himself.

“You first.” You giggle a little, then restate, “Take off your shirt.”

Eren grins before stripping, revealing a cute flush creeping up his chest. You stick to the deal and peel your shirt over your head. You skipped putting on a bra this evening because it was supposed to be a quiet night-in with friends, but it works for this scenario, too. 

You graze your fingers over the peaks of your breasts, bouncing just so with every rub, rub, rub of your hand. You bite back a harsh gasp, but little hums escape past your teeth anyway. 

Eren’s thighs twitch. He fights back the instinct to buck his hips and fuck up into nothing. His pants turn strained and exasperated. He thinks he might be numb to his hand at this point. He could use his spit again, but why should he have to when you’re right there, as desperate as he is?

Your name is a raspy plea on his tongue. His hand smooths up your leg as he coos, “I need to feel you, baby.” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, growing extremely close to the apex between them. “Need you to help me come. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Eren’s hands wrap around your ankles, tearing a yelp from you as he drags you toward him.

“I won’t put it in,” he promises. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your cunt against the underside of his cock. His hand somehow looks small in comparison as he holds himself at his base. He angles his cock until it’s about as close as it can be without touching you. “Please.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but even more frantically, it pulses between your legs. Loud and demanding, it’s as impossible to ignore as the man in front of you. Hot and horny, with messy hair and pretty pink cheeks and an even prettier cock leaking at the mere thought of touching you, staring at you like he wishes to devour you whole. 

You nod, and Eren doesn’t hesitate to push his cock between your folds. You watch as he does it, perched higher on your elbows. Even with the faintest amount of pressure, your jaw slackens. 

He rocks his hips, gliding his cock through you, up and down, with the ridge of his head nudging your clit. Your skin prickles despite the thin layer of sweat you’ve accumulated. 

You raise your lower half, dragging your pussy over him, then bring yourself back down to the bed. His cock jolts; you feel it. You repeat the undulating motion again and again, effortlessly, because you can’t recall a time you’ve ever been wetter. So wet that he slips out a time or two and uses the breaks to tap the tip of his cock to your clit.

Eren gives a low chuckle when your head falls back between your shoulder blades. “What a pretty little mess you are.” 

You angle your hips so he’s in the right spot, hitting your clit deliciously. It doesn’t take long for your legs to quiver, swaying as if they might give out. Eren steadies you with a hand resting on the divot of your hip.

“Oh, God, Eren.” Your voice pitches on a broken moan. “I think I’m gonna come.”

His large hand curves around your side, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass. He keeps you moving with his grip, guiding you through it even as your legs begin to falter. Barreling down the hill toward your release, you can’t stifle a single cry as they spill from you.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out, baby,” Eren encourages, saccharine as always but airless. Though his own release is imminent, he refuses to let go until you’ve had yours. 

He flattens his fingers against his cock, pressing deeper, adding more pressure. He proves how heavy and hard he is for you—how much better he’d feel inside you. The mere thought makes you groan. You push back against him instinctively, arching your back as you teeter on the edge of your undoing.

“So fucking hot,” Eren groans, thrusting as if he were truly fucking you. He meets you each time you bear down on him, his pelvis slapping against you as his hips rise from the bed. “So fucking hot.”

That familiar feeling fizzes in your stomach, swarming and radiating through you. It sparks in the tips of your fingers, even in your toes, before your orgasm consumes you entirely. Your entire being tenses, fists knotting themselves in the sheet and eyes screwing shut. The pleasure is white hot and leaves you with stars behind your eyelids.

“Keep ‘em on me while you come,” Eren urges.

You try to open your eyes as tears well in the corners. The sight before him is pornographic. You looked ruined. Eyebrows pinched and pulled together, mouth open as if you wanted to scream out your orgasm. Your soaked thighs, his thighs you soaked—and not to mention the mess you’ve surely made on the bed. As you curse and cry his name, Eren can’t help but imagine how wrecked you’d look, how much better you’d feel, if you were coming with him inside of you.

Your knees snap together, thighs sealing shut around his cock. He continues to fuck between them, against your pulsing, oversensitive pussy. Your body is spent and shaking, and he’s right there with you. The sinewy muscles of his chest flex as he builds toward his climax. 

“God, fuck,” Eren pants. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over this pussy.”

When he does, it’s with his head thrown back and a beautiful groan. His cock spills across your belly, dribbling down the creases of your thighs and smearing with the last few thrusts as he draws out every drop. He can’t believe he could feel so good from something as pathetic as grinding.

Your body lies limp, sprawling across the bed with your legs still draped over him. You wait for some post-horny clarity to smack you across the face, but the only slap you feel is the truth: you deserve better. You aren’t going back.

You stay there, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle. One moment you’re staring at the ceiling, then blink, Eren is above you, taking your cheek in his hand. His fingers curl around the side of your face before he places his mouth on yours. He’s soft, both in how he feels and how he kisses you, with lips slotted perfectly against yours, coaxing them open with his tongue.

You finally let him touch you this way; you kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you wish for the moment to stay, just for a little longer.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now."  You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

The Way He Loves | @multific

Leon does not deliver grand speeches about love. Instead, he shows it through action.

The Scar Count | @/multific

You like to trace and kiss the scars that mark Leon’s body, wanting to know and love every part of him.

Birthday Boy | @bumblebeesfromvenus

Your need to spoil your boyfriend on his birthday with an elaborate celebration results in a misunderstanding with hurt feelings on both sides. But the pure love the both of you hold for eachother finds a way to mend all tears in the end.

PERSISTENT | @angelicsoka

three times leon has asked you out and the one time you said yes.

HADESTOWN | @/angelicsoka

leon kennedy didn’t believe in love at first sight. he couldn’t, not with his line of work. that is, until he met you. you were everything he was not. you looked for the light in the dark, so innocently positive. you hadn’t seen the horrors he has. maybe that’s why he fell so hard. it was nice coming home to someone who saw past the brooding, moody persona he held. everything about you was perfect and he selfishly wanted you all to himself. he married you quickly, he knew from the moment he met you that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. about a year into your marriage, leon comes home to find you gone and the house trashed, as if you fought like hell. desperate to find you and bring you back to him, leon is more than willing to travel to the ends of the earth to find you. he is willing to risk it all, for you.

Sunshine in the DSO | @deathbyapril

Leon Kennedy, the hard and stern DSO gets a visit from his sunshine and rainbows wife who brings him lunch and many are surprised to see him soften.

Leon Kennedy x wife!reader | @/deathbyapril

You interrupt another woman flirting with your husband Leon Kennedy at a bar.

Hope | @/deathbyapril

Leon Kennedy takes Grace back to his safe house, which just so happens to be where his wife lives.

Undercover Heat | @/deathbyapril

Leon Kennedy and his wife go under cover at a fancy party and she must pretend to flirt with someone else to get information and Leon gets very jealous.

re9! Leon | @cummingprincess

re9 leon as a husband  | @lilacgrayskies

making out with rookie!leon | @/lilacgrayskies

once a mom, always a mom | @aurorak28

you became a mother back in 2006, having three attached, clingy, and young children along with a husband that cannot leave you alone— does not give you much space.

THIRTY YEARS LATE | @viktateapot

Thirty years after the fall of Raccoon City, you and Leon return to the ruins of the police station. While searching through the debris of your past, you find something you thought was lost forever—a gift you had prepared for a rookie officer named Leon Kennedy on his first day. A gift he never received. Now, in the place where your nightmare began, you finally get to give it to him. Better late than never.

CERTIFIED GIRL DAD | @rednnedy

Having a daughter who's 4 means being asked questions all the time and all type of them... including when are you going to give her a baby sister

FIRST MORNING HOME | @/rednnedy

You and Leon just had your first baby, and while all you want to do is cuddling with your little girl after a very bad first night at home, you end up finding out she's cuddling with Leon... who says "skin to skin" is very important during the first days of life

THE WEDDING CHRONICLES Series | @/rednnedy

After leaving Raccoon City for a second time and, finally, having some time for himself, Leon has definitely his ideas in order, and one thing he wants to do with you as soon as he can is getting married

Get in line | @frogglezzz

the tutor in dorm 24B | @sweets3rial

you have no choice but to go to your math professor for help in the class. unfortunately, he can't help you. but he knows a certain blonde that can, top of his class, perfect scores on everything, just the tutor for you.

drabble | @xoxomaeby

“happy first day, officer kennedy” | @/xoxomaeby

Talk To Me | @forgetminot

You have been trying your best to avoid Leon; Ignoring his questions and running off into danger. What happens when he confronts you about it and you have nowhere to go?

i keep crawling back home. | @old6urgundy

Leon vs. Superglued jar Challenge | @breathings-of-the-heart

A Place that Stays, part two, part three | @/breathings-of-the-heart

you've recently joined the force as a forensic analyst, with the same bright-eyed enthusiasm that reminds Leon of his own rookey days. Unfortunately, your fast-moving, efficient brain tends to falter when faced with a work crush-- and you're not as invisible to him as you think.

Imagine | @saintlea

Leon, who immediately after being cured of the T-Virus, showed up to his ex-wife’s house.

Voicemails | @messenger-of-babel

When complications arise on his mission, all he has is one phone call back to you. 

That fucking quarter-zip shirt | @girlwithadragonheart

Two Ghosts | @tearsof-scarlet

Rural Spain was the last place you expected to see Leon Kennedy. He isn’t the rookie you left in Raccoon City, he’s colder, sharper, and harder to walk away from a second time.

Stay Close, Rookie | @/tearsof-scarlet

You’re the no-nonsense top officer at Raccon Police Department who swore off training rookies, right up until Leon Scott “golden retriever” Kennedy gets assigned to your hip.

Tactical Restraint | @/tearsof-scarlet

After surviving the horrors of Raccoon City, Leon S. Kennedy is recruited by the U.S. government to begin training as a special agent. The program is brutal, relentless, built to break even the toughest. You're one of the elite agents assigned to oversee his development. He reports to you, follows your orders but he can’t seem to stop his interest towards you.

Re9 Leon Kennedy x DSO agent | @leavemealoneplzs

Re9 retired Leon Kennedy | @/leavemealoneplzs

welcome leon | @heartyluv

re2!leon boyfriend hcs | @lac3angel

Masterlist | @leonsleatherjacket

salt & pepper, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 | @/leonsleatherjacket

you had worked in the dso for almost a year now doing logistics and communications. you preferred the quiet and being behind a screen. however, sherry believed that working as an assistant for leon would benefit not only you, but him too.  so you were now assigned as leon s. kennedy's assistant. both of you had your own problems, and it was only a matter of time until either one of you was going to crash.

there she is | @/leonsleatherjacket

recently, things have gotten worse and you struggle to leave the bed. your husband, leon s. kennedy, worries about you.

waiting for you | @/leonsleatherjacket

you have been leon's partner for 15 years, and your love for him never grows old. after so many years of breaking down those stubborn walls around him, he still finds it hard to understand that someone wants to take care of him- instead of vice versa.

wife! reader x husband! RE9! Leon | @/leonsleatherjacket

you have been leon's partner for 15 years, and your love for him never grows old. after so many years of breaking down those stubborn walls around him, he still finds it hard to understand that someone wants to take care of him- instead of vice versa.

A Soft Spot for You | @leonw4nter

Leon Kennedy Headcannons, Pt 2 | @cherryredstarz

Sleepy Mornings | @/cherryredstarz

Masterlist | @millimeraki

BRINGING HOME HOPE | @/millimeraki

You’re waiting for the call that will make you a widow. And then the front door opens.

Training Center | @/millimeraki

Within government service, you transfer to the DSO. The training is brutal, but the new job definitely has its advantages.

his eyes all over me | @familyvideostevie

I’m home, baby | @prsleysbabe

Leon comes back home after being away dealing with Victor Gideon and having to revisit his past… Raccoon city. With Leon’s infection, he thought he that was it for him, that he would never see you again. Luckily, Grace found the cure for Leon and now he’s better than ever and all he wants is you.

Take All My Love | @plutotheplum

to your chagrin, you get partnered with an irritating DSO agent who happens to take an interest in the case you’re working on.

You still married me. | @khonsus-heart

Chris’s team found Leon and the missing FBI agent he went looking for, so when you get the call that they’re alright. Nothing's stopping you from seeing for yourself.

You’re stuck with me | @/khonsus-heart

Leon has spent a lifetime saying goodbyes at doorways, in passing, and over distance, always promising he’d come back. But when the life he’s built finally stands on the edge of being taken from him, he’s forced to confront a truth he’s avoided for too long. Some goodbyes don’t wait for you to be ready.

You said you’d fix it. | @/khonsus-heart

When the memory of his former wife comes to haunt him and a long-buried infection resurfaces, Leon is forced to confront the one thing he’s always avoided...his own problems. As his daughter begins to show the same signs that took her mother, Leon races against time to fix what he couldn’t before. Because this time, he’s not just fighting to survive. He’s fighting to come back.

That’s my little missus, she’s my number one | @simping-for-joe

Leon isn’t shocked to see you demanded to see him. The other people around you are shocked to see his sweet soft wife suddenly on a rampage.

slice of life | @myfckintruckwontstart

short windows into your life with leon.

He's Safe | @softkammi

WELCOME HOME, MR. KENNEDY?, Part 2 | @konalis

Leon Kennedy's always survived everything. But being a dad? That's what really scares him. Twelve years of trying, a daughter on the way, and the T-virus threatening to steal the future you spent so long building.

Leon kennedy (re9) x fem!reader | @whohurtyouxoxo

A oneshot where Leon Kennedy (re9) comes home to his darling wife after a long struggling mission, however his wife has struggles of her own …

Day in the Life as Leon’s Wife | @coralreefqueen-ao3

snippets of what it is like to be the wife of the legendary Leon S. Kennedy. 

Come back to me | @midnightcrw

Leon calls you before returning to Raccoon City.

Thoughts of You | @glader13

Masterlist | @belovedcloud

One Bed | @/belovedcloud

who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

“Re9 Leon Headcanons” | @danytar

PEACE WAS A LIE | @/danytar

Better Than Ever | @f41ryb0nes

comes home feeling better than he has in ages, and he knows just how to show you.

sad beautiful tragic | @totallynotmina

re4r!leon x fem!reader | @your-s-truly

re4r!leon x president’s daughter!reader | @/your-s-truly

YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH | @ceceisdownbad

it's been a long time since you've heard from Leon, all you could do was wait

his first and best | @kyougan

you feel that? | @/kyougan

you’ve earned it | @/kyougan

Just one more minute... | @shycloudkitty

Your husband has to leave for yet another mission but he's not quite ready to let you go yet… So he just savors…each… moment…

leon kennedy… as your husband. | @duckewrites

Eyes on You, Part 2 | @vickyminajj

A skilled intelligence agent is assigned as the partner of Leon S. Kennedy for a series of bioweapons investigations, and their partnership starts off tense as both expect the other to be difficult to work with. After several missions together, their constant banter at the agency slowly shifts into obvious flirting. As Leon begins finding excuses to stop by her desk and spend time with her, the growing tension between them finally leads to him asking her out for dinner, outside of a mission for the first time.

Let Him Go, Give Him Back | @monomyth-scribbles

Leon can tend to his own injuries. Sometimes, he prefers not to. After all, nothing compares to his wife's touch.

husband leon  | @harpsinfinity

You really like them a lot, don't you ? | @ninibeingdelulu

You just love your boyfriend’s arms

NOT EVEN THE GODS ABOVE CAN SEPARATE THE TWO OF US | @niki-phoria

leon can't bare the thought of losing you for a second. so what happens when you disappear for four hours in a haunted, monster-filled castle?

MORNING HAZE | @/millimeraki

Watching your husband sleep so peacefully gives you an idea. Just how deeply is he really sleeping?

shy assistant! reader | @/leonsleatherjacket

you had worked in the dso for almost a year now doing logistics and communications. you preferred the quiet and being behind a screen. however, sherry believed that working as an assistant for leon would benefit not only you, but him too.

You had just gotten home at least thirty minutes before Leon arrived from the RPD.  

Leon brought home some takeout from your favorite restaurant and even a tart of your favorite flavor for dinner, which you heartily share with him. It endears you how he’s so easily attuned to all the things you like, whether from dishes to dessert, to colors and hues that fit to your liking. That’s just how Leon is—the man you fell in love with ever since you knew him. But the debate remains between who fell first and who fell harder.

He’s more determined to claim that he is both. After all, what’s not to love about you? What is it about you that drew him in the first time you’ve met? Leon believes it’s just one thing, even though there are other factors that had him falling head over heels for you the second he discovered that heart of yours.

You’re kind. The type of person who would open doors for others in cafes, or let an elderly woman take your spot at a grocery line even when you have a cart full of stuff. You were always so understanding of others, and because of your multitude of sympathy, Leon makes it his goal to make sure you have someone in your corner who understands you too. 

Maybe it’s also how sweet you are to him. He used to think he’d be on the verge of a soul-crushing devotion towards you, and he feared all of it would be unrequited, one-sided. He gave you his entire heart on a silver platter, and at first, he half expected you’d turn him down because he knew he could be a bit overwhelming with how he showed you his affection and interest.

But much to Leon’s surprise, you returned his love and affections tenfold, and without second thought. You showed him how devoted you are too—through small or big gestures that brighten up his day, especially his life. 

Just like now. 

The two of you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom. Though the space was slightly cramped, you didn’t think ill of it because that just meant you’d be closer to Leon with your shoulders and arms brushing as you do your business. He looks at you through the mirror and smiles; you look rather endearing wearing your little headband after doing your skincare routine. 

After he spits and gurgles, he wipes his mouth with a nearby bath towel, before you do the same. It’s the simple domesticity of this life you share together that makes your heart ache in a good way—you realize early on in your relationship how much you enjoy living life with Leon. Doing the little things together. Experiencing milestones with each other. The list could go on. 

Like a little puppy, Leon follows you to the kitchen when you grab a glass of water to soothe your throat before going to bed. When you set it down on the sink, Leon decides to wrap his arms around your waist, before burying his face into your hair. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. “I like it a lot.”

You smile at his gentle musings. “Yeah? I tried this new face cream and body wash. It’s supposed to smell like something sweet.” You answer him, your hand drifting down to settle on his arm.

Leon tightens his arms around you, before he spins you around and then lifts you to the counter without breaking a sweat. Standing between your legs, he watches fondly as you giggle, your lips curving into a smile which has him falling in love with you over again. He looks at you like all he wants to do is kiss you until he can no longer breathe and think about anything else.

You beat him to it though. Cupping his face with both hands, Leon’s hands settle on your waist, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s just a soft brushing of your lips against his, and he practically melts against you. 

It lasts for a couple of seconds, maybe two, three—who’s counting? Definitely not Leon who feels like he’s on cloud nine just from kissing you. But then you’re pulling away, and he nearly groans from missing your mouth on his again.

Then, you’re pecking his lips a few times, eliciting a surprised grunt from him, and a spectacle of giggles from you. You shower his face with soft smooches and quick pecks, from the tip of his nose, to either of his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and then his jaw. 

You hear him giggle before you kiss his lips again. 

Leon giggling? 

That’s something new. 

You’ve never heard him giggle like that—like the sound is soft and carefree and almost… delicate as it echoes in the kitchen. He’s only laughed before, chuckled when he found something funny and wanted to share it with you immediately. But a giggle? A soft burst of happiness coming from his throat? Never; at least, not yet.

But now that you’ve heard it, you want to hear it again. You like hearing him happy, and if a ton of kisses on his face and a few quick smooches on his lips is what it takes, then you’ll gladly give him more.

“You like that, huh?” You say, almost playful.

A slow blush creeps along Leon’s cheeks. He avoids your gaze for a second before looking at you with an almost shy expression. 

“Well you’re kissing me. I mean, my beautiful girlfriend is kissing me. What more could I ever want?” He replies, trying to hide his mildly embarrassed face from you.

That endears you even more. You can’t help yourself; you cup his cheeks and squeeze them just a bit, until Leon’s lips are puckered in front of you, which makes you chuckle just a bit. Instead of being annoyed, though, Leon just lets you do what you want, because you seem so happy like this. If you find him adorable, then who is he to refuse whatever title you have for him? 

Afterwards, you lean in and kiss him again on the mouth, slow and steady this time, savoring the feel of his sweet lips against your own. Your hands circle around his neck, and you pull him closer as he stands between your legs. Leon kisses you back just as much, with his hands tightening just a fraction on your hips, his scent wafting over your senses.

Without thinking, you pull away, and Leon chases after your lips. But you’re pressing your mouth against his jaw, sweet and sensual, lathering his skin with a few soft pecks, until he’s tilting his head back to give you more access to his neck.

You oblige immediately, pressing more and more kisses underneath his jaw, until you reach the side of his neck. Leon groaned, the sound ragged and breathy, especially when you start sucking a sweet spot over it and down the column of his throat, littering his skin with small, reddish marks. 

By the time you’re pulling away, Leon’s breath is hot and heavy, puffing out in short rasps. The effect you have on him is indescribable, especially when you take the lead just like this. It’s not often that you do, but when you take control even just for a moment, Leon absolutely loses his mind over it. Over you.

“Gosh, Y/N…” he mumbles, almost dazed. “Did you just leave hickeys on me?”

You giggle as you watch him touch his neck, fingers brushing over the reddish marks you’ve left on his throat. “Maybe,” you answer coyly. “You don’t like it?”

Leon exhales a ragged breath. “Quite the opposite actually.” He muttered under his breath, but you heard him almost immediately. “The things you do to me…”

He trails off, avoiding your gaze as he clears his throat, almost awkwardly. When you follow his gaze, your eyes widen, seeing the obvious outline of his arousal straining against his gray sweatpants. You exhale a soft, breathless chuckle.

“Oh… I see,” you say, smirking. “Aren’t you sweet?”

Leon groans, burying his face onto your shoulder as you continue teasing him. You reach down, trailing your hand south, touching his bare chest and his abs, before Leon stops you, his hand wrapping around your own before you can even reach uncharted territory.

“Y/N…” He whines and the sound makes you shiver. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I have no intention of finishing this with you?”

As if a switch flipped in his mind, Leon grunted against your neck, before he’s collecting you between his arms. He urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, his strong arms supporting your weight while you hold onto him. Then, Leon carries you to your bedroom, kicking the door behind him as he walks toward your cozy, unmade bed.

He lays you down gently before climbing on top of you, his hands on either side of your neck. You see his dog tag dangling down his neck, and the sight makes you blush. You can’t deny it—Leon is absolutely, mindblowingly attractive. 

You stare into his eyes, those oceanic blues that stare right back at you. His pupils are dilated—so much so that nearly most of it covered his irises. He looks at you like he’s looking at something he loves so much—reverently and adoringly so. Then, slowly, he dips his head, before capturing your lips with his own. 

You hold him close, wrapping your hands around his neck as you make out, and all the while, you focus your attention on him and him alone, just as Leon gives you his undivided attention. He reaches underneath your oversized shirt (it’s his), and cups your waist with his large, calloused palm.

“This is what you get for kissing me like that,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, a low rasp that sends sparks flying around you. 

You smile, exhaling a soft breath. “I don’t mind. Are you about to punish me for it?” 

Leon shakes his head. “I’m about to love you.”

“But you already do.”

“Not enough,” Leon murmurs, before nuzzling into your neck. “After tonight, I’ll make sure you know and feel it until you lose your breath, until you will never, ever question just how much I do.”

⤷ a/n: hi! sorry it's taking me a while to post fics lately. i'm at the last leg of my internship so i intend on finishing it (i have 3 days left) before i post some more! for now, please have this little blurb i wrote impulsively, because i love re2 leon and he's absolutely one of my favorite leons ever!

by the way, my taglist is open if you want to be a part of it! also, i'm putting requests on hold for now since i want to finish the ones i have first before writing and accepting more, i hope you understand! 🫶

anyway that's that for me, expect another fic coming soon (and potentially a series i'm working on for RE9 leon!) have a wonderful day! 🤍

🔖 taglist: @rednnedy @eu4rialy @jqsjournal @ce98ne @itimisu @danigirls-missions

note: dividers are from @/cursed-carmine.

you sat in your driveway, engine still running, staring through your window at the heavy sheets of rain hammering down on the pavement in a powerful crescendo. the short walk up your driveway suddenly felt like a trudge through a fierce snowstorm. you glance at your backseat, nearly a dozen flimsy brown paper bags overflowing with groceries. you groan, already imagining the bags disintegrating the moment you step out of your car. just as your hand reached for the door handle, bright, almost blinding headlights swept across your yard.

it was none other than leon, your stoic yet snarky neighbor, a well-rounded man who just couldn't seem to leave you be. the loud roar of his engine silenced as you watched him step out from his car without hesitation, rain soaking his hair and clothes immediately.

the fabric of his shirt stuck to his frame, emphasizing every muscle on his chest and protruding vein along his biceps. leon was pretty tall— not overbearingly tall, but certainly an ideal height. his solid, well-built frame came from years of physically straining work, a career that put more stress on his body than any gym ever could. his dark blond hair, usually carefully styled, was now plastered to his forehead, water droplets dripping from the ends and running down the sharp line of his jaw.

his eyes caught yours through the window, a small smile on his face even in the pouring rain. leon was usually quite stoic— quiet, observant, and to himself most days— but with you he was different. open, flirty, and a little too persistent. he just could not seem to leave you alone, and as embarrassing as it is to admit it, he was actually pretty helpful... especially in times like these. god, you wished you weren't so helpless around him.

he jogged over to your car, boots splashing through unsuspectingly deep puddles as he made it over to you, a playful smirk gracing his features. he tapped lightly on the glass with two knuckles, brow raised in a mildly teasing way that you'd quickly become accustomed to over the past few months living here.

you rolled the window down, allowing him to rest his elbow on the side of your car to speak to you. "stuck in the rain, huh, sweetheart?" he smiles, voice low and warm, carrying that familiar teasing lilt that made your skin raise with goosebumps. "or are you just here admiring the lovely weather while the rest of us get soaked?" you couldn't help the small smile that graced your face at his sly comment, shaking your head before explaining the predicament you were facing.

leon chuckles heartily as you explain, hands pushing off your car and glancing towards the back as he notices the plethora of groceries. "unlock the back for me, beautiful. couldn't stand to see you get drenched like this." he smirks, winking at you as you unlock your car door for him. you can just feel the warmth creep up your neck at his words, your mind automatically associating the comment with something dirty. he knows exactly what he's doing, you think, swallowing your spit as you stare at him through your side mirror.

he worked quickly and efficiently— the way he always did when he was helping you with something. in no time, he had rounded up most of the heavy paper bags of food and other essentials in his arms. the sight of his biceps flexing under the soaked fabric of his shirt and the way his veins bulged against his forearms from the effort truly felt sinful. you could hardly draw your attention back to the task at hand as you ogled him. pushing your distracting thoughts away, you mentally prepare yourself to step out into the endless onslaught of rain.

grabbing the two lightest bags, you hurriedly jumped out of your car and dashed the short distance to your covered porch. by the time you reached it, you and leon were both thoroughly drenched, the earthy notes of petrichor sticking to your bodies. your clothes clung uncomfortably to your skin, and leon's grey t-shirt was practically glued to his torso, outlining every firm ridge and muscle across his chest, abdomen, and arms.

he set the bags down carefully against the brick so the contents inside wouldn't spill out, then ran a rough hand through his hair, squeezing the water out with his fist. leon turned to you, a soft, endearing smile on his face as water continued to drip down from his hair and down his face despite his efforts.

"see, told 'ya i'd save the day," he says, voice raspy and warm with that same teasing tone he always took with you. "can't have my favorite neighbor spilling all her groceries everywhere, right?" he chuckles, the deep sound sending shock waves up your spine as you smiled shyly up at him, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your face in your pursuit to the front door.

"thank you, leon... you really didn't have to come running over in the rain like that for me. i would've figured something out." you tell him, eyes locked onto his as you assess his expression. he waved you off and leaned against the porch post casually, arms crossing over his broad chest, causing his shirt to pull even tighter— if it could get any tighter, that is— across his shoulders and pectorals.

"i know you would've," he replied, smiling down at you, head tilted to the side. "you're stubborn like that, sweetheart. i'd know, you never want me to help you. ‘s‘cause you can do it yourself, right?" he nods towards you, an amused expression gracing his features. you felt a small, knowing smile tug at your lips despite the way your cheeks were warming at his accusation. he wasn't wrong. you had turned down his help more than once, insisting you could handle your own. i mean, that's what you were used to growing up in the city— every man for himself. asking for help had always felt like a weakness.

but standing here on your porch, soaked to the bone with leon looking at you like that, it was getting harder for you to keep denying him.

water continued to drip steadily from his hair down to the rest of his body. you sucked in a sharp breath as you averted your gaze from his distracting frame and met his eyes once more. the longer you stood there, the more you noticed his eyes skimming over your rain-soaked form. your thin t-shirt was completely drenched, clinging uncomfortably to your curves and leaving very little to the imagination under his heavy gaze. to make matters worse, the black bra you'd chosen that morning with a delicate lace trim you now deeply regretted wearing— was clearly visible through the wet fabric.

leon's eyes lingered there for a moment, just long enough for you to look around awkwardly as you felt heat traveling up your neck and spreading across your cheeks. when his gaze finally lifted back to your face, there was a new darkness in those icy blue eyes, pupils blown wide and gaze intense under your faltering one. he pushed off the porch post and took a slow step closer, closing some of the distance between the two of you. rain continued to hammer down just beyond the overhang; the once loud pattering of raindrops reduced to white noise as you stared up at him.

"besides," he murmured, voice dropping lower as he stood mere inches away from you, "i don't mind getting a little wet, sweetheart. long as i get to help you out, yeah?" he whispered, tilting his head as he peered down at you. your breath catches at that, his suggestive tone making you inhale sharply. you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the way your nipples had hardened from the cold rain and the intensity of his stare, but it only seemed to amuse him more.

leon's expression softens into something warmer, though the desire in his eyes was apparent. he reached out slowly, brushing his hand across your cheekbone to push a stray strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. his calloused thumb lingered on your face for a moment, brushing against the swell of your cheek before pulling away.

"you're shivering, sweetheart," he said softly, a hint of concern in his voice mixed with slight amusement as his dark eyes assessed your form. "c'mon, let's get you inside. wouldn't want you to get a cold. i'll help you put everything away, yeah?" you blink dumbly, still a little dazed from the physical contact before nodding absentmindedly. you fiddle with your keys briefly, hands shaking slightly as you struggle to put the key in place. once you finally unlock the door, you hold it open for leon as he gathers the heavy bags again effortlessly, setting them down carefully on the island in your kitchen.

the sound of rain becomes muffled as you shut the door behind you with your foot, kicking your shoes off while carrying the two remaining bags into the kitchen before placing them next to the others. the air around you and leon feels charged, the only sounds present in the room were your soft breaths and the steady drip of the water from both of your clothes onto the tile floor. you quickly find something to do with your hands, reaching into the bags to start putting your groceries away. you couldn't take the quiet atmosphere, never once gotten used to the quaint silence of suburbia.

leon didn't move to leave, instead, he leaned his hip against the counter and watched you with that calm, observant gaze that always made you nervous. his soaked shirt was still clinging to his skin sinfully, and you had to force yourself to not stare at the man.

after a long, quiet moment of you unpacking the goods, he spoke again, his voice lower and rougher around the edges.

"you know, i keep finding reasons to come over here," he said, pushing off the counter to step closer to your frame which had visibly stiffened at his words. "fixing your porch light, mowing that little strip of grass between our lawn, carrying your groceries..." he continued, voice dropping to a low, sultry drawl. "maybe i should stop pretending it's all just me being a good neighbor, huh, sweetheart?" you freeze at his boldness, intrigued at what he meant by "pretending." you'd figured leon was just lonely and liked your company, you'd been there, but you wouldn't have imagined this. perhaps you were much too oblivious to catch on.

leon was now just a foot away, looking down at you with a sultry expression that made your whole body feel hot. he leans down to your ear, deft hands twirling a damp strand of your hair between his pointer finger and thumb, the gesture surprisingly tender.

leon reached down with his other hand and gently took the eggs that you'd been holding dumbly from your hands, setting them down on the counter so he'd have your full attention. he then moved to place both of his large hands on the edge of the counter, caging you in. leon's head dipped lower, lips hovering just beside your ear so you could hear him clearly. you shuddered, breath catching in your throat at the close proximity. god, you think you might explode.

"i've been real patient, sweetheart," he purred lowly in your ear, breath fanning against your skin. "coming over with tools, fixing whatever you need, telling myself i'm just being helpful..." he confesses, and you swallow at his bluntness. you couldn't believe this was your life right now. you knew he was flirty, which was never an issue, but you didn't expect to like it as much as you did. you reveled in the closeness, exhaling softly as he continued.

"but if i'm being honest, darling," he pauses, hands gripping the counter tightly behind you, voice rough as he continues, "i'm not thinking about the fucking porch light or the leaky faucet. i'm thinking about you." he pulls back from your ear slowly, gaze flicking down to your chest again, where your wet t-shirt and black lace bra were still clearly visible. your chest was rising and falling faster than earlier, nipples visibly hardened from the cold rain and the heat of his attention. he curses under his breath, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes settle back on your face.

"but i'm no dummy, either, baby. don't act like you don't know what you're doin’ to me." he says, almost condescendingly, voice low and rough with barely restrained hunger. he leans in even closer, one hand leaving the counter behind you to slide boldly up your hip, thumb caressing the small of your waist through the soaked fabric. your breath hitches, eyes tracking his hand as you subconsciously lean into his touch.

"so tell me, you gonna keep playing dumb or are you finally gonna let me have you, huh?" the question hangs heavily in the air between you. leon doesn't move any closer, he just studies your expression closely with slow, deliberate circles of his thumb over the wet material of your shirt. his gaze is intense, unapologetic, almost daring you to look away from him. you stood, frozen in space, staring dumbly up at leon as you try and gather your thoughts. your mind felt foggy, the only thing you could truly focus on was leon's slow movements on your waist.

your lips are parted slightly and your heart thumps against your ribcage, your wide eyes staring into leon's half-lidded ones, the atmosphere in the room thick. you were at a loss for words. this was leon— your neighbor, the man who fixed your porch light without being asked, who carried your groceries in the rain, who always had that easy, soft smile for you. you'd caught yourself thinking about him more than you wanted to admit— the way his veiny arms flexed when he worked, the low timbre of his voice whenever he called you “sweetheart,” the way he'd wave at you every time you'd head inside from a long day at work.

and now he was right here, caging you against your own kitchen counter, telling you exactly what he wanted.

the chilly sensation the rain left on your body had long since subsided and your whole body now felt hot, burning under his stare as you struggled to form a coherent sentence. your mouth opened and closed embarrassingly, settling on shutting it as you melted under the intensity of his stare.

leon's thumb moved in those slow, maddening circles, occasionally brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, teasing the bare skin of your waist. your skin was hot against his touch, goosebumps forming in wake of his cold thumb caressing the skin softly. he waited for your response, a brow raised in question as he smiled down at you softly.

after a few seconds of silence, he lets out a low, rough chuckle.

"aww, baby," he cooed, voice dripping with dark amusement. "too flustered to say anything? you're real cute, baby." he says, tilting his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours. his stare was dangerous, predatory, hungry with desire as he all but devoured your frame with his eyes. his thumb dips just a little higher under your shirt each time, brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ribs. you twitch a little at the touch, his cold hands tickling the skin of your abdomen. his hands felt hypnotizing on you, as if every small circle he traced was pulling you in deeper into his trance.

"you don't have to be brave with words right now, baby." he continued, voice low and confident as he expertly assessed your nervous frame staring up at him. "i can see how fast your heart's racing." he says, breath fanning over your lips in a hushed whisper, "and i can definitely see how hard your nipples are pressing against that pretty black lace." he observes, eyes glancing down to your chest to punctuate his words before looking back up to your flushed face.

your spit caught in your throat in at his boldness. the rain had long since been forgotten, and you were no longer shivering. in fact, your whole body felt feverish under leon's intense, brooding stare. you wanted to say something, anything to not seem like a total ditz, but all you could do was stare up at him in a haze.

leon hums, offering you a sympathetic smile at your shyness. despite his soft expression, the heat behind his eyes never faltered.

"you've been driving me crazy for months, sweetheart," he confessed, letting out a soft exhale as his other hand reaches up to play with a loose strand of your hair again. "every time you smile at me all shy when i help you, when you bend over to tend to your flowers in those little shorts... i've had to walk away and tell myself to behave."

he leans in further, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped to a rough whisper. you shudder, thighs pressing together as he presses a chaste kiss to the outside of your ear.

"but i'm done behaving, sweetheart. i won't play these games with you anymore." he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes again, bold and unapologetic. "so i'm only gonna ask once more," he said, thumb dipping higher, brushing under the curve of your breast where the wire of your bra sits. "you gonna keep playing shy... or are you gonna let me have you, baby?" he repeats, eyes piercing into yours with a gaze so intense you think you might explode.

the kitchen felt impossibly small. the rain was still pouring outside, but you had hardly noticed with the way leon's body was pressed so close to yours. the air was almost suffocating with how hot his hand felt on your skin, looking at you like he was ready to devour you the second you said yes.

your mouth opened and closed again almost embarrassingly. you finally managed one shaky breath before the words slipped out, soft and breathless: "...i want you, leon." a slow, satisfied smirk spreads across leon's face, expression dark as he finally hears the words he'd been waiting to hear fall from your pretty lips for what felt like eons.

"that's my girl." he coos, the hand that was absentmindedly twirling your hair around his finger fervently pushes the strand behind your ear. without another second of hesitation, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss. his lips are slightly chapped, slotting against yours perfectly as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

the kiss was anything but gentle— it was demanding, full of all the months of tension he'd been holding back. his hand traveled up the nape of your neck and into your hair, fingers threading through the wet strands as he tilted your head just the way he wanted, deepening the kiss with a low groan that vibrated against your mouth.

you melted into it, hands instinctively coming up to clutch at his soaked shirt, feeling his chest muscles flex under your touch. leon presses you back against the counter, one thick thigh sliding between your legs to keep you steady as he devoured your mouth. you gasped at the stimulation to your core, eyebrows furrowing as his tongue sweeps past your lips, brushing against your own wet muscle. you moan at the contact, the feeling of his tongue against yours so incredibly delicious as you feel a pit begin to settle in your stomach.

he finally pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard. a thin string of saliva connected your lips for a moment before it broke, your lips glossy and hot from making out. leon's eyes were dark, half-lidded, and burning as he stared at you intensely.

"fuck..." he breathed, voice strained and low as he catches his breath. "been dying to hear you moan like that for months." his thigh presses a little firmer between your legs, giving you just enough pressure to make your hips twitch. you whine, tilting your head slightly, staring into leon's eyes with a desperate expression painted on your pretty face.

"so needy," he murmured, lips brushing against yours teasingly. you chase his lips, only to have him pull away at the last second, leaving you whining. he chuckles lowly, hand coming up from your waist to brush against your cheek. "i haven't even touched you properly yet, baby. you needed me that badly, huh, sweetheart?" you nod, desperate, biting your lips briefly before leon leans back in.

he kisses you once more— slower this time, savoring the soft moans and whimpers that leave your mouth as he moves his thigh subtly against your heat to give you some more friction. your mouth falls open slightly more, a whiny moan leaving your mouth as leon pulls away to ogle at your frame under him.

his hand delves under your shirt again, moving higher to cup your breast through the soaked lace of your bra. his thumb cascades over your pebbled nipple, making you arch into his touch with a soft, needy sound. he curses, looking down at you to gauge your reactions. he circles his thumb experimentally around your small, erect nub, a tightness forming in his damp pants as he watches you writhe under his touch.

"please, leon, more..." you whine, staring up at him with a needy expression on your face.

"god, you're so responsive," he groans, voice heavy with desire as he watched your brows furrow at his touch. "look at you, arching into my hand like you were made for it. damn thing's been teasing me for far too long, baby. shame it's gonna to have to come off, isn't it, sweetheart?" he says sarcastically, raising a brow teasingly before reaching under your shirt to undo the clasp of your damp bra.

leon's hands tug at the ends of your shirt, pulling the useless fabric up and over your head while you shrug out of it. he tosses the flimsy material on the island, eyes fixated on the one article of clothing he'd been dying to snatch off the whole night. hurriedly, leon's deft hands race to pull the bra off you in one smooth motion, setting it next to the shirt he'd just rid you of.

you couldn't stop the soft, breathy moan that escaped you as leon reached out to cup each of your breasts in his hands. "got such pretty tits, baby," he says, staring into your dazed eyes as he fondles them. "so fuckin' perfect." he squeezed them gently, pushing them together in his large palms before letting them settle again. he leans down, pressing hot, open mouth kisses down the column of your neck, sucking occasionally at the flesh until he reached your chest.

leon's tongue darts out to lick a thin, teasing stripe up your left nipple, his saliva coating the hardened bud. he blows ever so slightly, causing you to shiver at the cool sensation. you can't help but let out a strangled moan as his other hand works your right nipple, rolling it between his thumb and pointer finger. your core clenches as he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, mouth sucking the nub fervently.

"fuck, leon... feels good..." you trail, hips subtly grinding down into the thick muscle of his thigh that was still pressed between your soaked core, desperate for more friction. leon groans deeply at the sound of your sweet voice, the low vibration traveling straight through your nipple he has trapped between his lips. his eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and burning with desire, while his thumb continues its slow, relentless assault on your right nipple.

"yeah, baby? feels so good, right?" he breathes out, pulling off your nipple with a wet pop, lips shiny with saliva. a thin string of spit connects his mouth to the swollen peak before it breaks. you nod with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm, tears nearly pricking at your eyes just from how horny you are. your hips grind down on his meaty thigh harder this time, tiny, desperate moans slipping from your mouth as you stare at him, eyes practically begging him to give you more.

leon's eyes flare with dark satisfaction as he watches you nod so eagerly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, hips grinding down desperately against his thigh. "feels that good, huh?" he breathes, thumb giving your right nipple one last slow roll before his hands slide down to grip your waist. "fuck, sweetheart…" he leans in, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone, then trails lower, running his lips over your chest while his hands slide down to pop the button on your pants, pulling the zipper down in one smooth motion.

the damp fabric clings stubbornly to your skin as he tugs at it, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants and panties together. you lift your hips to help him, elbow rested atop the counter behind you to balance yourself. he tugs the soaked layers down your legs in one steady pull, tossing them aside on the kitchen floor with a damp slap. the cool air kisses your overheated, dripping cunt and you shiver, a soft whimper escaping your lips under leon's quiet, intense stare. you're now completely bare in front of him, eyes gazing up at him needily as you gauge his expression.

leon is practically hypontized, his gaze dropping between your thighs, eyes darkening with raw, unrestrained hunger. he wets his lips slowly with his tongue, as if he's already imagining how good you're going to taste. he steps closer, right hand traveling down your abdomen and in between your thighs. his palm is warm against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. he slides two fingers between your thighs, running his middle finger through your slick slit, parting your folds and gathering your wetness.

a low, appreciative hum escapes him when he feels how incredibly soaked you are. he pulls his hand back and holds his glistening fingers up between you, the dim light catching on the shine coating the digits. his eyes pierce into yours as he brings his fingers closer to your face, offering them to you.

"open." he commands, his voice rough and assertive as he presses his middle and ring finger to your lips. when your lips part obediently, he slides his fingers into your mouth, letting your taste yourself. his thumb brushes your bottom lip and you suck gently, eyes locked onto his.

"that's it, sweetheart. taste how fuckin’ wet you are for me," he drawls, watching your tongue swirl around his finger with hooded eyes. "shit… such a dirty fucking girl.” pulling his fingers free with a soft pop, he brings it to his own mouth, sucking it clean with a deep groan. the sight makes your core clench uncontrollably, begging to be stuffed with something, anything at this point.

and with that, leon drops to his knees in front of you, slinging one leg over his shoulder to open you up to him. you grip the counter behind you tightly, balancing yourself as leon grips the soft plush of your thigh. he leans in, hot breath fanning over your dripping cunt, and presses a soft, short kiss to your clit. you whine, eyes looking into his pleadingly.

he only smiles up at you from between your thighs, that dark, knowing smile that makes your stomach flip. he leans in again, dipping his head lower and licking a slow, thick stripe up your folds from your entrance to your clit. when he reaches the swollen bud, he flicks the wet muscle against it with the perfect pressure.

you twitch hard, a soft, needy moan slipping from your lips as sparks of pleasure rush through you.

watching your reactions, leon hums lowly before taking your sensitive clit in between his lips, suckling the bundle of nerves while flicking his tongue. his tongue draws small, deliberate circles over the trapped bud, forcing out louder, higher pitched moans from you. the sensation is almost overwhelming. your hips jerk, a hand flying to his damp hair as he works you with his mouth. you fingers grip at his strands tighter than you mean to, earning a low groan from leon. the sound vibrates straight through your clit, head falling back ever so slightly as he continues his assault.

leon presses a single digit to your folds, running his finger up and down before pushing it past your slit. you're so wet that it slides in easily, but still he takes his time, curling it gently at first before pressing an additional finger to your clenching pussy. he pumps his fingers slowly, angling his fingers upwards in a hook to press against your g-spot.

"fuck, listen to those pretty sounds, sweetheart," he mumbles against your pussy, voice muffled and rough. "grippin' my fingers so tight... my pretty girl’s just been waiting for me to split her open, huh, baby?" his words vibrate through you as he continues to suck at your clit with such vigor that you feel tears prick at your eyes from how fucking good it feels. you let out a sob, eyebrows knitted together as you begin to feel a pressure begin to tug at your lower abdomen.

his fingers begin to speed up, hooking upwards inside you as he feels for the spongy bump of your g-spot. every stroke making wet, obscene sounds echo in the kitchen, mixing with your high pitched, breathy moans and the steady thrum of the rain outside.

you're trembling, hips jerking uncontrollably as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter with every curl of his fingers and every suck on your clit. your grip on his hair tightens even more, tugging hard enough to pull another groan from his throat. only when your thighs begin to shake violently around his head and your moans turn into desperate, broken cries does he finally pull his mouth off your clit with a wet pop. he looks up at you, lips and chin glistening with your arousal, eyes dark and burning.

"leon, w-what the fuck?" you sob out, a single tear rolling down your heated cheeks as you stare at him in desperation, eyebrows knitted together in confusion at your ruined orgasm. he chuckles darkly, fingers pulling out of your core as he rises to his feet to press a chaste kiss to your forehead to console you. he wipes the tear that rolls down your cheek and pushes your hair behind your ear while cooing at your frustrated form.

"not yet, sweetheart." he rasps, holding your chin in place with his thumb as he forces you to look at him. "gotta bury my cock in this tight little cunt first," he whispers, pressing a brief kiss to your pouty lips as he stares down at you. reaching his strong arms under your thighs, he scoops you up in one smooth motion. your legs wrap around his waist automatically, your dripping cunt pressed hot and slick against his abdomen as he carries you up the stairs without any effort.

he walks down the hallway to your bedroom, having already known its location from when he came over to change your window’s film which had desperately needed replacing.

kicking open your bedroom door, he walks you over to the bed and sets you down in the middle, your form sprawling out as you prop yourself up on your elbows. leon stands at the end of the bed, pulling the tight shirt off his body as you watch in delight. he makes quick work of his jeans and boxers as well, tossing the articles of clothing aside as he descends onto the bed.

your mouth is open in awe as you ogle at his thick cock, the tip leaking with small dribbles of precum. he was big, the base thick and heavy, the shaft curving slightly upward with prominent veins running along its length. it twitched under your hungry gaze, another bead of precum sliding down the flushed head.

leon's lips curl into a smug, knowing smirk as he catches you staring. "you want this, sweetheart?" he purrs, voice low and rough with arousal. he wraps his large hand around the base, giving himself a slow, lazy stroke from root to tip, spreading the slick precum over the head. his eyes never leave yours, thick with lust.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch him stroke his thick cock right in front of you, the wet sound of his hand gliding over slick skin making your empty pussy clench desperately around nothing. the ruined orgasm still has your nerves buzzing, every inch of you hypersensitive and aching for relief.

leon's smirk deepens at your obvious hunger. "yeah... you do," he answers for you, voice a raspy, filthy rumble. he leans in close, releasing his cock and letting it slap heavy and wet against his abs. his hands slide up your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he spreads you wider, exposing every inch of you to his hungry gaze. "look at that. so fuckin' desperate for me. dirty girl, dripping all over the sheets just from watching me stroke it." one thick finger drags through your folds, collecting your slick before he brings it to his mouth and sucks it clean. his eyes flutter shut for a second, like he's savoring the taste of you, then snap back open again, his gaze more intense than before.

he shifts up the bed slowly, every muscle in his torso flexing as the mattress dips under his weight. his cock drags a scorching, sticky trail up your stomach, leaving a shiny smear of precum across your skin. when he settles between your thighs, the blunt, leaking head nudges right against your swollen clit, making your hips jerk up involuntarily. you let out a whine, your patience nearly spent as you glare at him, annoyed.

"easy, sweetheart," he chuckles darkly, pinning your hips down with one big hand. "you'll get it when i say so."

he rocks his hips forward, sliding the entire length of his cock along your pussy up and down, coating himself in your arousal until the wet, obscene sound of it fills the room. every pass bumping the head against your clit, then dragging back down to tease your entrance, never quite pushing inside. your hands fist the sheets, back arching, broken little whimpers spilling from your lips as the teasing from downstairs makes every nerve ending scream for more.

“leon… please—” you gasp, voice cracking. you were nearly about to give up.

“please what, sweetheart?” he taunts, leaning down to bite at your jaw, your throat, sucking a fresh mark into the skin just below your ear. “use your words, yeah? tell me exactly what you want me to do to this pretty pussy.”

you’re shaking, thighs trembling around his waist, but the words tumble out anyway, much different from your bashful slurry of words from before. you beg, lip quivering desperately as you nearly cry out of sheer frustration. “fuck me… god, leon, i need your cock inside me right now. please, i can’t, i need it—”

he groans against your neck, the sound vibrating through you. “that’s my girl.” in one smooth motion he flips you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up so you’re on your knees, ass high in the air. you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s gripping your hair and tugging your head back, angling it to look towards the mirror on the right side of your bedroom.

“mirror,” he growls against your ear. “eyes on the mirror the whole time, baby." he drawls, hands caressing the fat of your ass with his other hand as he presses himself against you.

your gaze shifts. the tall standing mirror reflects every filthy detail back at you. your flushed face, lips parted and swollen, eyes glossy and desperate. and behind you, leon, shoulders broad and muscles bulging, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping the base of his thick cock as he lines himself up.

he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until the stretch burns so good your mouth falls open on a silent cry. you watch in the mirror as your pussy stretches obscenely around him, lips parting wide to take every thick vein, every ridge. the slight upward curve of his cock drags perfectly against that spot deep inside, making your walls flutter and squeeze. you feel as if you're on cloud nine right now, finally feeling satisfied as his thick cock stretches your cunt deliciously. you could cry right now, the fullness of his cock buried inside you so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix.

“fuck, look at that, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice wrecked. his eyes are locked on the where your sexes connect in the mirror, watching himself disappear inside you. "so fuckin' tight. swallowing me like you were made for it." he bottoms out with a sharp snap of his hips, pelvis flush against your ass, balls heavy against your clit.

the sight his cock buried to the hilt inside your pussy makes you moan loud enough to echo off the walls. he doesn’t wait. he pulls back until only the flushed head remains inside, then slams forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that makes your whole body jolt. a creamy white ring coats his cock with every slow, rough drag inside your cunt as his hand grips the fat of your ass.

every thrust is on full display in the mirror. the way your back arches deeper, the way your tits bounce with every impact, the way your ass ripples when his hips slap against it. his cock glistens with your slick each time he drags it out before he drives back in.

leon’s hand slides around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit again. he rubs tight, fast circles in time with his thrusts, never letting up. he leans over your body to your ear to and whispers, “watch yourself,” he orders, tugging your hair harder so you can’t look away. “watch how pretty you look getting fucked like this, taking my cock like such a good fucking girl.” he purrs, making eye contact with you in the mirror before letting up to set an even quicker pace.

you're already so close, so fucking close to cumming, the teasing from earlier making you hypersensitive to every rough thrust of his cock in your wet pussy. you feel that familiar knot curling again in your stomach, and you swear you could cry from how good his cock feels dragging against your walls— the slight upward curve that presses against your g-spot, the thick veins that adorn it from the base to the shaft—

“leon, fuck, i’m gonna—” your voice cracks, breaking into a sob.

“yeah? you gonna cum already?” he groans, hips snapping harder as your walls tighten up around him, the headboard starting to knock against the wall. “cum on my cock, sweetheart. watch yourself get fucked stupid by your favorite neighbor.” the words are shameless as they leave his mouth, and you can’t help the way your pussy clenches involuntarily at his words. he groans, dragging his cock faster along your aching cunt as he watches you intently in the mirror.

his fingers press harder on your clit, rubbing perfect figure-eights into the swollen bud in a way that feels so delicious with his cock splitting you open. with a last firm circle on your clit, you find yourself coming apart in no time.

the orgasm rips through you like lightning, violent and blinding. your pussy clamps down around his cock like a vice, pulsing and gushing around him as you scream his name. in the mirror you watch yourself come undone, your eyes rolling back and mouth open in a broken cry, whole body shaking while he fucks you through it. leon's pace never slows as he drags your orgasm out until you’re sobbing and twitching.

“good fucking girl... shit, just like that,” he groans, voice raw. his hips keep snapping forward in that same brutal rhythm, cock slamming deep into your spasming pussy even as you’re still coming apart, walls clamping and fluttering wildly around him. the wet, filthy squelch of your arousal mixes with the relentless slap of skin on skin, louder now that the headboard is hammering the wall in time with every thrust.

“fuck, sweetheart,” leon growls, voice wrecked and dark. his fingers never leave your clit, in fact— they press harder, rubbing those perfect, merciless circles even faster, dragging the orgasm out until it twists into something sharper, almost painful. your scream melts into a broken sob as the pleasure flips straight into overstimulation, every nerve screaming while your pussy keeps pulsing and gushing around his thick cock.

“leon, please, no— too much—” you choke out, but the words dissolve into another helpless cry when he grinds deep and circles your clit just right. in the mirror you’re forced to watch it all as your eyes roll back, and tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

“too much?” he laughs low and cruel against your ear, never missing a stroke. “look at who’s ruining you right now, sweetheart. look at that pretty face getting fucking wrecked,” he groans, yanking your head up higher by the hair so you can’t hide from the reflection. his other hand snakes around your front, large hands finding purchase around your neck as he pulls your frame flush to his.

your thighs start shaking violently, legs threatening to give out, but leon just presses you closer to him, hand squeezing your neck possessively. he fucks into you harder, deeper, cock dragging relentlessly over that oversensitive spot inside you with every thrust. his other hand leaves your tangled hair to rub tight, firm circles into your clit, and you almost cry from the hot pleasure building in your stomach.

“gonna give me another one already, baby?” he taunts, voice rough with lust. your cunt flutters wildly around him at his seductive, almost condescending tone, moans getting higher-pitched as you feel your orgasm approaching. “that’s my girl. cum for me, sweetheart. know you want to," his pace never once falters, strong hand holding you up as he presses a small kiss behind your ear while encouraging you to cum on his cock.

the second orgasm hits you harder, sharper, almost too intense to bear. your whole body seizes, as you gush around him for the second time, fresh slick squirting out around his cock and dripping messily down your thighs onto the sheets. you scream his name until your voice cracks, eyes screwed shut in the mirror before they snap open again. back arched impossibly, mouth open in a broken sob, tears pouring freely while your body jerks and twitches uncontrollably in his grip.

but leon still doesn’t let up.

he fucks you straight through it, hips pistoning faster, the wet slap of skin turning obscene and constant. his fingers keep torturing your swollen, oversensitive clit— pinching, rubbing, and flicking it until the pleasure flips into pure fire, every stroke making you sob and thrash against him. you collapse forward onto your elbows, face buried in the bed, ass still high and presented for him as he follows you down, blanketing your body completely.

“leon… i can’t— please, i can’t take it—” you’re babbling, drooling into the bed, legs kicking weakly as a third orgasm builds right on the heels of the last one, vicious and unstoppable.

“uh-uh,” he rasps, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and filthy. “i waited months for this perfect little cunt,” he rasps, voice heavy with everything he’s held back for so long. "so you can give me one more, sweetheart." leon purrs, his nails digging into your hips as he continues his relentless abuse to your cunt.

he yanks your head back again so you have no choice but to see your tear-streaked, ruined face. you’re practically limp in his arms as hot streams run down your face from the sheer amount of pleasure. the way your pussy is stretched obscenely around his thick cock as it pounds into you without mercy, and the way your whole body trembles and jolts with every brutal thrust is enough for another pit in your stomach to build.

the orgasm that’s been building finally crests, and it feels almost painful, every contraction sending tiny shocks up your spine. it drags through you in long, shuddering waves, your walls clamping down around him in tight, fluttering pulses while fresh slick gushes out around his cock. you watch it all in the mirror, your eyes glossy and unfocused, mouth open in a hoarse, broken cry, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks as your thighs shake violently.

“fuck… that’s it,” leon groans against your ear, voice raw and satisfied, his hips stuttering as he chases his orgasm. “such a good fucking girl, taking me so well,” leon grunts out, voice rough and ragged as he chases his own release. your cunt flutters around his thick length, hands scrambling for purchase on the bed as hot tears run down your cheeks.

you’re still twitching, still trying to catch your breath, when the overstimulation really sets in— sharp and electric, too much all at once. your hips jerk away on instinct, a wrecked sob tearing from your throat as the pleasure flips into something almost painful.

"shhh, i've got you," he murmurs softly against your neck, his voice losing its rough edge as his own release builds. "just one more thing, baby…" leon's breathing is ragged, his hips stuttering as he nears his release.

with a final, deep thrust, leon buries himself to the hilt and stills. he groans deeply, hips bucking as you milk him for all he's got. you feel him pulse inside you, hot, thick ropes of his cum filling you completely as he groans your name against your shoulder blade. his body trembles slightly, muscles tensing and then relaxing as he empties himself into you. it's a satisfying release that seems to go on forever, each pulse of his cock accompanied by a low, guttural sound of pure satisfaction.

leon stays buried deep for a long moment afterward, both of you breathing heavily in the quiet room. the rain has softened outside, now just a gentle patter against the windows. his weight is comforting on your back, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as he presses soft kisses along your spine.

when he finally pulls out, you collapse completely onto the bed, boneless and satisfied. he shifts beside you, gathering you into his arms and snuggling you into his side. you rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as his fingers gently stroke your hair.

"you okay?" he asks after a few moments of comfortable silence, his voice soft, a stark contrast to his rough, lust-ridden voice from a few minutes ago.

"mhm... so good." you mumble into his firm chest, and he lets out a breathy laugh at your reply. he strokes your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he watches you catch your breath.

"yeah, baby?" he teases, settling into your arms as he thinks of what he wants to say. you're drifting off when he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. "i've wanted this for so long." although your eyes are heavy, you can't help the way your heart skips a beat at his words.

your eyes flutter open at his confession. "how long?" you ask curiously, mouth parted as you listen to the calm thrum of his heart against his chest.

"since the day you moved in," he admits, his thumb tracing circles on your shoulder. "that's why i kept coming up with excuses to see you. the porch light, the fence… none of it... really needed fixing." he says, and it's a little endearing to see leon so honest... it was cute. the sleepiness wore off a bit, your lips curving into a smile as you think about all the times he's offered his help to you in the name of "being a good neighbor."

"what about the leaky faucet?" you ask, propping yourself up on an elbow to look at him better. "that one was actually dripping." you inquire, wriggling your eyebrows at him playfully.

leon grins wolfishly. "okay, that one was real. but i may have exaggerated how bad it was so i could come back a few times." he admits, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes into the small of your back.

you shake your head, unable to stop smiling. "you're ridiculous." you huff out, mirroring his mannerisms by tracing hearts into his firm chest with your fingers, eyes focused on your movements.

"i tried to be subtle, sweetheart," he admits. "but i was losing my goddamn mind trying to tell you. tonight, when i saw you stuck in the rain... i knew i couldn't pretend anymore." your fingers still on his chest, biting back a smile as you take in his words. you had to admit, it felt nice to finally hear him be honest about how he felt, the flirting a precursor to his true feelings.

"i'm glad you didn't," you say, leaning up a bit to press a soft kiss to his lips. he responds immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. when you pull away, he's smiling.

"so," he says, a boyish smile gracing his features, "what happens now?" he asks, genuine curiosity behind his playful eyes.

"well," you say thoughtfully, "you could start by not pretending things are broken just to talk to me." you giggle, staring at him in amusement as a wider smile breaks out on his features.

leon laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "deal." he says, trapping you tightly into his arms. you giggle, smacking at his biceps for him to release you. once he does, you look at him with a smirk plastered on your face.

"hey, leon?" you ask, staring into his eyes with a hint of mischief.

"yeah, sweetheart?" he asks, brows raised as he stares at you trying not to laugh.

"i think my kitchen sink might be making a weird noise." you say, biting your lips to stop the laugh that eventually does escape, burying your face in his bare chest.

he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. "i'll be over first thing in the morning to check it out."

© cametoile ♡ + ↻

the rain hammered down like it had a personal grudge against the city, turning the streets into slick mirrors that reflected the neon haze. leon stood there on the doorstep at midnight, water streaming off his jacket, plastering his shirt to the broad slabs of muscle he'd built up over years of missions that never let up. his hair clung to his forehead, and he could feel the chill seeping into his bones, but it was nothing compared to the ache that had driven him here.

'routine check-in,' leon muttered when the door opened, his voice rough from the storm and the lie he couldn't shake. you didn't call him on it—didn't need to. your eyes said you knew exactly what this was, or at least what it wasn't. leon just... stood there, his massive frame filling the doorway like some drenched stray, waiting for you to decide if you'd let him in.

you stepped aside without a word, and relief hit Leon harder than any bullet ever had. he toed off his boots in the entryway, leaving puddles on the mat, and followed you inside. the warmth of the place wrapped around him, chasing away the wet cold, but it did nothing for the tension coiling in his gut. you both ended up on the couch, you curling up on one end with a blanket draped over your lap, leon sinking into the cushions opposite, still dripping a bit despite his efforts. he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find words that wouldn't come.

'rough night out there,' leon said finally, glancing at you sidelong. it was true, but not the whole truth. work had him locked down all day—dominant, in control, barking orders to keep the chaos at bay. but here, with you, he felt like that old wet dog again, tail between his legs, hoping for a scrap of kindness.

you shifted closer, your hand brushing his arm, and something in leon cracked. 'leon,' you said softly, no judgment, just that quiet understanding that always undid him. he turned to you, his blue eyes locking onto yours, and before he could overthink it, leon leaned in.

the kiss started slow, tentative, his lips pressing against yours with a gentleness he rarely allowed himself. you tasted like chamomile tea, cinnamon and home, something he'd been chasing for too damn long. his hand cupped the back of your neck, thumb stroking the soft skin there as he deepened it just a fraction, savouring the way you sighed into his mouth, all soft and dreamy. it wasn't rushed, wasn't the frantic release he craved after a mission—this was deliberate, like he was memorising every second.

you weren't his girlfriend. hell, you didn't have labels for whatever this was, but you were the closest thing leon had had to real connection in years; someone who saw through the agent bullshit without making him spell it out. that made this feel even more vital, like if he let go now, he'd lose the one steady thing in his life. leon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling. 'i shouldn't keep showing up like this,' he murmured, voice low and gravelly, but his body betrayed him, shifting closer until he was half over you.

your hand on his chest didn't push him away; it just rested there, feeling the steady thump of his rotten heart. that was all the invitation leon needed. he kissed you again, slower this time, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you parted for him. a soft hum escaped you, and it shot straight to his cock, already thickening in his damp pants.

leon climbed between your legs carefully, mindful of his size—his massive shoulders bracketing your thighs, muscles flexing as he settled over you without crushing. the couch dipped under his weight, but you opened up for him, legs parting to let him nestle against your heat.

his hands roamed gently, one sliding up your side to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling the hardening nipple. the other braced beside your head, holding him up as he trailed kisses down your jaw, your neck, nipping lightly at the pulse point that fluttered under his lips.

'you feel so good,' leon whispered against your skin, the words rough with need. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your lacy underwear in one smooth motion. you lifted your hips to help, and there you were—bare, glistening, your cunt already slick and inviting.

leon groaned low in his throat, settling lower, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs wider. the scent of you hit him, sweet and arousing, making his mouth water. he kissed the inside of your thigh first, soft and reverent, working his way inward with open-mouthed presses that left wet trails on your skin. you shivered, fingers threading into his still-damp hair, and leon looked up at you, eyes dark with hunger.

'let me take care of you,' he said, voice a rumble. it wasn't a command—not here, not with you. more like a plea from the man who spent his days being unbreakable.

his tongue flicked out, tracing your folds slowly, tasting the salt and sweetness of your arousal. you gasped, hips bucking slightly, and leon pressed a hand to your abdomen to steady you, holding you open. he lapped at your cunt deliberately, flat strokes from entrance to clit, savouring every twitch and moan you gave him. circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, he sucked gently, feeling it swell under the attention. 'fuck, you taste incredible,' leon murmured against you, the vibration making you whine. his free hand gripped your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles as he delved deeper, tongue thrusting inside you, curling to hit that sensitive, gooey spot.

you were the closest thing to peace leon had known in forever, and right now, with your thighs trembling around his head and your breaths coming in soft pants, he poured everything into making you feel it. he alternated between broad licks and focused sucks on your clit, building the pressure slow and steady, drawing out every reaction. when your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, leon groaned in approval, doubling down until your body arched, cunt clenching around nothing as you teetered on the edge.

'leon... please,' you breathed, and that was it—the sound of his name like that undid him. he sucked harder, tongue flicking relentlessly, until you shattered, flooding his mouth with your release. leon didn't stop, lapping it all up, prolonging the waves until you tugged him up, spent and glowing. he crawled back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. his cock strained against his pants, aching, but this wasn't about him—not yet. it was about you, about this fragile space you'd carved out.

'stay,' you whispered, and leon nodded, collapsing beside you, pulling you into his chest like the lifeline you were.

the rain kept pounding against the windows like it was trying to drown out the world outside, but inside, everything felt hushed, intimate. leon held you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. his cock still throbbed in his pants, hard and insistent from the taste of you lingering on his tongue, but he didn't push. not yet. instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin—warm, faintly floral, grounding him in a way nothing else could. 'god, i needed this,' leon murmured against you, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. 'you have no idea what it's like out there, pretending i'm unbreakable all day.'

he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you, his blue eyes searching your face in the dim light. water from his hair dripped onto the cushion, but he ignored it, too focused on the way your lips were still swollen from his kisses. 'at work, i'm the one calling the shots, keeping everyone alive, but here... fuck, here i just want to let go. with you.' leon's hand slid up your side, cupping your breast again, thumb brushing over the nipple until it pebbled under his touch. he leaned down, capturing it in his mouth through the thin fabric of your shirt, sucking gently while his other hand worked at his belt.

the buckle clinked open, and leon pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your skin. 'tell me you want this too. i don't want to assume—' but you nodded, your hand covering his, urging him on. that was enough. leon shoved his pants down, freeing his cock—thick, veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. he stroked himself once, twice, groaning at the relief, before positioning himself between your legs again. 'you're so wet still,' he said, voice husky as he rubbed the tip along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. 'makes me want to slide right in, feel you clench around me.'

he pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. his massive frame loomed over you, muscles taut as he held back, letting you adjust to his size. 'that's it, take me,' leon whispered, hips rocking gently once he was fully sheathed. the stretch was intense, your cunt gripping him like a vice, and he had to pause, forehead pressed to yours. 'feels like heaven. tight and warm.' he started moving then, shallow thrusts that built into a steady rhythm, his cock dragging against your walls with each pass.

leon's mouth found yours again, kissing you deep and messy, tongues tangling as he fucked you slower than he wanted, savoring the connection. 'i think about this all the time,' he confessed between kisses, his voice breaking on a groan when you clenched around him. 'after missions, when i'm alone in some shitty hotel, it's your face i see. your body under mine like this.' his hand gripped your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist to angle deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made you gasp his name, all high and needy.

'fuck, right there baby?' leon panted, picking up the pace, his hips snapping forward harder now. the couch creaked under the force, but he didn't care—nothing mattered but the slick sounds of your bodies joining, the way your nails dug into his shoulders. sweat beaded on his skin, mixing with the remnants of rain, and he chased the building pressure in his gut. 'come with me,' he urged, thumb finding your clit, circling it firmly. 'let me feel you milk my cock.' his words were rough, needy, a far cry from the controlled agent he played at work.

Something clicked. You had only known Claire for a painfully short time, yet she pulled something long buried back to the surface: the desire for strength – and for a better world.

And so here you were. A trainee again. In a new division that was far more physical than you were used to.

Of course, they hadn’t sent you straight into the field, even with your prior experience. You weren’t unfit – but you weren’t as hardened as the agents moving through these facilities.

They moved with agility, flexibility, precision. In your first days at the academy, surrounded by other “trainees” – though none of you were truly inexperienced; you were all transfers – you repeatedly noticed seasoned DSO agents observing you.

While you were practically fighting for your life.

The training was harsher than anything you had ever imagined. It demanded everything from you – and then a little more. More than once, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. You even considered quitting.

After a few weeks, some of you did.

And somehow, that was exactly what motivated you to keep going.

Every time you thought you had finally reached the required level, the training became just a little harder. The sparring partners just a little stronger. Always just slightly stronger than you – to the point where it began to frustrate you.

As a soldier, though, you certainly weren’t going to complain.

You lay flat on your back on the mat of the training hall, which had become as much your home as the barracks where your group slept. Sweat ran from your forehead into your hair and down your temples. With every ragged breath, your lungs burned as if they refused to absorb the oxygen you desperately needed.

Your current training partner was faring slightly better – no surprise, since she had been the one to throw you onto the mat in the first place. She was breathing hard too, but she was still standing. Bent forward, hands on her knees, she took a moment before flashing you a grin and offering her hand.

Her palm was just as slick with sweat as yours, but you managed to grip each other firmly enough for her to pull you back to your feet.

“Again!” your trainer barked in your direction.

He never gave you even a second to rest. Not from the beginning, and he never would. In a strange way, you admired that about him.

You both saluted and faced each other again, slipping back into fighting stance to repeat the maneuver.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone standing at the edge of the mats, watching.

“Do you ever wonder who those people are who keep coming in here?” you asked your fellow agent curiously as you circled each other.

“You mean the hottie with a body standing over there?” she asked, stealing a glance while she had the angle.

You smirked. “Yeah. Him.”

You had noticed him before. A very well-trained agent, slightly older, dark blond hair, and a stern expression that could rival your trainer’s. He appeared in the training hall every now and then, observing – never speaking to anyone.

And then, eventually, he would just leave again.

Your colleague’s words hadn’t come from nowhere. Yes, this agent looked extremely good. Well-built, undeniably experienced – his presence was rough, somehow distant. If not for those tiny moments when his furrowed brows would relax whenever he observed something that clearly interested him. Then his features softened, the crease in his forehead smoothing, his eyes widening just slightly. In those moments he looked so handsome that you had more than once wanted to approach him – but hadn’t dared.

“Agent Kennedy!”

Both of you flinched when your trainer practically roared across the hall, his grim expression locked onto the bystander. The agent’s features took on an almost innocent note as he glanced left and right, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was the one being addressed, even pointing at himself in mock confusion.

“You’re distracting the recruits!”

You and your colleague exchanged a caught, embarrassed grin and hurried to refocus on your training while Agent Kennedy began his own retreat.

After that, you found yourself looking for him again and again.

Once you had heard his name, it hadn’t taken long to realize this was the Agent Leon S. Kennedy. The top-notch veteran of the DSO. Survivor of Raccoon City. Rescuer of Ashley Graham. Involved in some of the most dangerous bioterrorism missions in the world – Tall Oaks, China, New York, Alcatraz. He had been everywhere.

Why would such an experienced agent need to show up at the training center so regularly?

You certainly weren’t complaining.

On the contrary – the training, and your progressively strengthening body, were hardening your mind as well. You gained confidence. And that confidence convinced you to finally speak to him.

When you spotted him again, you gave yourself a quick internal pep talk and pretended to head for your water bottle and towel for a short break. You wiped the sweat from your forehead deliberately and took a sip before casting him a sideways glance – only to find him already looking in your direction, making you swallow a little harder while hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint nervous tremor running through you.

“Here to learn something new, Agent Kennedy?” you asked, amusement threading your voice.

He blinked as if surfacing from deep thought, then, leaning against a concrete pillar with arms folded, offered you a quiet laugh.

“It would seem so.” His gaze softened from its usual intensity as he began speaking with you – he looked almost… friendly. “Agent…?”

You gave him your name.

“Good to meet you,” he said, his voice slipping back into its stoic cadence. “Better get back to training before we both get into trouble again.”

He nodded toward your trainer, who stood with folded arms and a look that very clearly translated to What the hell are you doing?

You let out a short laugh. “Probably wise. Nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy.”

With an amused smile, you turned away, lifting a hand in farewell before heading back to the mats.

How you had managed to gather so much confidence in such a short time wasn’t entirely clear to you, but you credited the training – and the fact that Claire had secured you one hell of a job. Maybe the job that had always been missing from your life.

You made a mental note to invite her to dinner once you finally had a sliver of free time, just to thank her.

And so it happened that you began seeing Leon Kennedy more often – partly because you were suddenly very attentive whenever you walked through the facilities. At first, you took every opportunity to speak to him – much to the amusement of your comrades, some of whom openly joked that you had simply been quick enough to seize your chance – until eventually he started approaching you on his own to exchange a few words.

It was often nothing more than small talk, but you had the feeling you understood each other well. And maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of flirting woven into those conversations. At the very least, you didn’t deny yourself the occasional coquettish remark.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were building up a certain energy inside yourself – energy that made your new life at the DSO thrilling, but also dangerous. A different kind of dangerous than your first field deployments with your team. Different from the missions you would still go on.

This was the yearning for a colleague you probably shouldn’t find this attractive – given your status as a newcomer and his as a seasoned agent.

But the way his beautiful blue eyes lingered on you, the slow motion of his mouth when he spoke, how strangely captivating you found every line in his face – it made restraint incredibly difficult.

So difficult that you decided to see the attraction as something positive.

It was a complicated situation.

And a great way to yearn for someone.

You leaned into it and embraced whatever it was. And you grew bolder and bolder – until that one night.

It was late. Too late, really. You would regret it the next morning when you were exhausted, having stayed at the training center far longer than necessary to prepare for the upcoming mission. Again and again, you ran through the briefing in your head, considering what you might need in the field – even though this “mission” wasn’t particularly important or dangerous. More of a test than anything else.

“Up late.”

You flinched. Despite your sharpened awareness, you still couldn’t prevent someone like Leon from sneaking up on you. With a half-gloved hand, you steadied the swinging punching bag.

“Yeah,” you confirmed shortly, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand and taking the opportunity to tighten your ponytail.

Leon stood a few feet away, near the double doors to the center – where he usually lingered when you saw him. The soft training mats cushioned your bare steps as you moved. His gaze followed you. You offered him a slightly tired smile before focusing on your water bottle.

“You too,” you added after soothing your burning throat and catching your breath.

He looked faintly amused that you had thrown his own remark back at him. Then he surprised you.

“I like being here. Reminds me of the basics.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned. “Is that why you keep dropping by to watch us train?”

He nodded. He made no move to close the distance between you, just stood there, his ever-intense gaze fixed on you as though searching for something.

An impulsive idea formed in your mind – one that required courage. Luckily, you had gathered plenty of that over the past few months.

“Care to get back to the basics, then?” One hand landed casually on your hip. “I could use someone to challenge me before the mission.”

As you had seen before, Leon’s usually stern expression softened into something curious after your words. Despite what you took as a positive reaction, he took his time answering. He seemed to genuinely ponder whether he wanted to be persuaded.

Long enough that you felt the need to push.

“Does it help if I say please?”

That caught him off guard enough for his poker face to slip. He leaned forward slightly, a quiet laugh escaping toward the floor before his posture settled back into calm composure.

“Sure. Can’t hurt.”

Something deep inside you tingled – something you tried to suppress in light of the upcoming spar. Leon would show you no mercy. He would truly test your abilities. You forced yourself to focus.

He didn’t make it easy.

He unzipped his training jacket, revealing a tight tactical shirt stretched over toned, defined muscles. His upper arms were so big you almost wondered why the fabric didn’t tear.

A flicker of uncertainty passed through you – whether this had been a good idea. Too late now.

You set down your water bottle and adjusted your gloves with deliberate composure as you stepped toward the center of the mats. Leon simply rolled his broad shoulders.

He was massive. So much bigger than you. Imposing. You would never overpower him – not in this life, not in the next. The key was not letting that show.

“Want some pointers?” he asked helpfully, slipping into a fighting stance you knew well.

You mirrored him, feet pressing firmly into the mats, and nodded.

“Breathe.”

He was right. The moment he said it, you realized how tense you were, how shallow your breathing had become. You forced a long inhale, dropping your shoulders.

“Good,” he praised with a faint smile. “Now, stay sharp.”

That was his only warning.

He stepped toward you in one long stride. Only your trained reflexes kept him from grabbing you instantly. You sidestepped automatically.

“You’re smaller than me. Faster. Use it to your advantage.” His voice was utterly calm, as though this were a walk in the park for him.

Meanwhile, something wild and flickering ignited inside you – stubborn determination to walk away with some form of success. His tips barely registered; you were too focused on tracking his movements, reacting to them.

For what felt like an eternity, you circled each other, each searching for a weakness in the other’s defense. You darted forward only to retreat again, testing, measuring, resetting – a charged dance across the mats.

You parried the arm lunging toward you, intending to grab his wrist. What you hadn’t calculated was the experience of the more seasoned agent. He stepped straight into you, his entire massive body suddenly against yours, his chest right in front of your eyes. It startled you – and more than just the heat from training rose to your cheeks.

That brief hesitation was all Leon needed to spin you around, seize your wrist, and trap it. No way out – he could break your arm like this. So you stood pressed against his solid torso, panting once again from exertion – one would think you’d have built up more stamina by now. But this time, the breathlessness wasn’t only from training.

“Don’t let yourself get thrown off so easily.”

Leon’s warm breath brushed over your ear, low and somehow suggestive. Damn it – you couldn’t suppress the excited tremor running through your body. Had he done that on purpose?

You stayed still, and he didn’t release your wrist. He allowed you just enough movement to shift your body slightly, to turn your head and look at him. His sky-blue eyes burned into yours – searching and utterly certain at the same time.

“You’re trapped. What do you do?” he asked, leaning closer, close enough that your heavy breaths reached his lips.

“Um… die?” Your voice had dropped to a whisper. Your stomach twisted with anticipation – he was so close, you felt his presence, anticipated his lips. What was happening here?

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not the kind to say please more than one time,” you added defiantly – though there was unmistakable flirt in your tone.

That earned a quiet grin from Leon. “I see.”

The hand around your wrist tightened its grip.

“You gonna let me go?” you asked, even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted him to.

He glanced past you, toward the double doors of the training center.

“Maybe,” he answered.

His free hand slid forward boldly, coming to rest on your leggings-clad hip. His attention returned to you. “If you say please.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “Guess I’ll die, then.”

His grin widened.

You held his intense gaze long enough that he exhaled, came even closer, and your breaths mingled. The hand at your hip pressed more firmly. Your lips parted gently, inviting him that final inch closer.

“I know another way,” he murmured, “if you’re up for it.”

Your bare back hit the cold tiles of the shower stall, pressed there by Leon’s flat palm against your chest. One step – and his glorious body was back in your space. Without breaking eye contact, fire running through his gaze, he pulled the shower door shut behind him, flicked the water on in one fluid motion, and pressed his heavy muscles against you.

Warm water touched you at the same moment his lips did – both tender and heavy at once. His broad neck offered the perfect anchor to sink into, to feel the passionate pressure of his mouth as he captured you, catapulted you into another world, washing away thoughts of training, missions, and everything else, just like the water slowly soaking you both.

This close, this raw against you, he felt even larger. Not an inch of him wasn’t hard, sculpted – almost unfairly perfect. You wanted to explore every piece of him – his wet hair, the strong shoulders, the impossibly big arms, so defined that under the heated tension and pattering shower, his veins stood out.

Unfortunately, the utterly superior agent, you had to admit it, had you pinned against the wall. His body covered yours from every direction, arms braced beneath yours so that his hands could roam anywhere, while yours were limited to above his shoulders.

Broad palms slid over your body, gripping wherever they pleased – your hips, your waist, softer at the sides of your breasts before giving a squeeze that pulled a moan from you straight into his mouth, your senses completely overwhelmed between his tongue and the steam swirling around you.

“You’re a real tease, you know,” Leon murmured, his face only the slightest distance from yours.

He couldn’t very well tell you that he had noticed your looks from the very beginning. At first, he’d only been interested in the new recruits – especially the one Claire had mentioned. You. The one who’d looked at him so adorably, who always had a sharp remark ready, disciplined and strong-willed.

He was far too old to be getting involved with a colleague like this – but damn, you were irresistible. And with the way you had practically invited him… Leon simply hadn’t been able to hold back.

“Me?” you asked innocently, your eyes half-closed from the delicious arousal brought on by Leon’s searching lips, his exploring hands – and mostly by the way his cock pressed against you, matching his body in size from everything you could feel.

“I’m no tease,” you murmured with a small grin and a slight tilt of your head. “You’re the one who kept showing up and distracting us.”

Leon gave a playful hum, kissing you again with a satisfied smile on his lips. This time it was gentler – so gentle you couldn’t resist giving his lower lip a small bite, earning a smirk from him.

“Careful. I might bite back,” he rasped.

His lips set off on a new mission – a soft kiss to your cheek, wandering down over your chin, to your neck, where he lingered, sucking at the delicate skin, tasting salt mixed with warm water on his tongue.

Let everyone see what you’d been up to late at night before missions.

You exhaled heavily, completely unbothered by any consequences this night might bring. If you were going to take on a job this dangerous, you might as well reap the benefits.

And Leon was one hell of a benefit.

He stayed at your neck longer and longer, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts, stroking back and forth, sometimes grazing your nipples just a little too lightly. A quiet gasp slipped from your throat, your back arching into his hand, searching for the touches he silently promised but didn’t give.

Your stomach tightened deliciously, and with the little leverage you had, you slid your leg up along his, inviting him closer.

“Hah–who’s the tease now?” Your breathy voice barely rose above the sound of the water.

A soft laugh answered you. “I’m not teasing.” His eyes found yours, the blue somehow darker now, deep and intense like the sea. “I’m just enjoying you.”

It wasn’t just the way he said it – laced with genuine honesty. It was the softness in his gaze that made you melt. Not only was Leon Kennedy unbelievably hot – he seemed to value closeness, intimacy, the charge of being together.

Excitement tingled between your legs – your body wanted his so badly that your mind had thrown caution overboard from the very beginning. Your lips found each other in a heated, open kiss, breath mixing, bodies merging – and finally, Leon pressed himself exactly where you needed him.

A small, adorable moan vibrated against his lips as he gave your nipples proper attention, taking them between his fingers, gently pinching, then soothingly rolling. A knee slid between your legs. Your mouth broke from his to pull in a sharp breath. Leon’s hard thigh rubbed against you, stimulating your softly throbbing clit – wet leg hair tickling, but firm muscle making the pleasure swell.

You stood there in front of him, eyes closed, against the tiled wall, mouth open in search of air between steam and him. You looked so unbelievably sexy that Leon briefly wondered how exactly this had happened.

“Look at me,” he murmured close to your face. He needed to see you, your eyes, needed to see how much you wanted him.

Wild electricity flashed in them as you obeyed instantly, your hands sliding from his neck into his wet hair, sensual, silently begging for more.

“Leon…” you breathed his name, and his composure slipped. He felt it – his body relaxing while his cock twitched, demanding.

“You okay to turn around?” It was more respect than a real question, but that was how it should be.

It took your fogged mind a moment to process the words, but once they settled, you nodded eagerly. His large hand steadied you, guiding you as his solid body moved away to make space.

The tiles were white and smooth – you knew immediately your footing would be tricky. But you’d manage. You wanted this.

“Come here.” His voice was low, coaxing you into bending forward a little more.

One hand slid between you, calloused fingers finding your clit, rolling over the throbbing spot, making you bite your lower lip and let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a moan.

Gentle pressure guided your pelvis into a deeper arch. You searched – and barely found – your grip on the tiles, rising onto your toes with the curve of your body, impatiently waiting for the promised fullness when Leon would bury himself inside you. You should have looked at him properly. You’d have to make up for that later.

The feel of his tip against you told you everything you needed to know. He was big. But not too big for you. The water didn’t make things easier. But the stretch felt so good that suspended moment before he would be fully inside you, connected to you, and you’d finally get properly fucked again after far too long.

“You good?”

Leon watched as his cock gradually sank into you, the resistance giving way more and more to your wet arousal. The sight was beyond hot. The feeling of you was more than he’d dared to imagine the first time you’d looked at him with those eyes. Damn – how had you managed to wrap him around your finger so quickly?

“Yeah.”

Your cunt tightened around him even though he wasn’t fully inside you yet – almost as if trying to pull him in faster. Leon let out a low grunt.

“More than good.”

Another sound escaped both of you as he finally bottomed out inside you.

The first thrust was experimental, meant to find what you liked. He hit it immediately. The second found that same spot again, and you let out a high sound that rang in his ears.

From that moment on, you lost yourselves in each other.

Leon’s movements were measured, every stroke aimed precisely where it needed to be, absorbing your eager whimpers like a sponge, learning your body quickly and skillfully. If water hadn’t already been running over your mouth, it would have been watering from the feel of him driving deep, hard thrusts into you, his full length inside, grazing your cervix just enough to intensify the pleasure.

Wet, slapping sounds mixed with the spray of water filled the shower room, echoing inside your small, private world – accompanied by your moans as Leon drove you higher and higher, his own breath coming in sharp bursts.

You were so tight around him, gripping him perfectly, pulling him in – one throbbing, overwhelming sensation of bliss. He decided then: he wouldn’t stop until he’d pushed you to the very edge.

Your arms began to strain under the weight pressing you into the wall and the repeated impact, your body tired from endless training. You held on for dear life, trying to angle yourself for the perfect pleasure while also not slipping on the slick tiles. Between high cries, small grunts of effort escaped you.

Though Leon was captivated by how well you took him – how almost surreal you looked, water cascading over your rocking body – he noticed your frantic shifting against the wall. Your hands searched for grip, slipped, found new purchase.

One hand released your hip from its iron hold, reaching forward to gently wrap around your throat and pull you upright. Your arms fell slack at your sides instantly, yielding to his every touch. The move ignited something inside you you hadn’t known before, and you moaned louder, impulsive and appreciative.

He held you there as he kept ploughing into you, relentlessly targeting your sweet spot with an endurance you hadn’t expected. Wet lips grazed your ear, his panting echoing through you, never once slowing.

“Oh god,” you gasped, growing more vocal. Between whimpers, words like “Shit” and even “Help” slipped out – not truly intended, just outlets when simple sounds couldn’t contain the intensity anymore.

Your entire body was on fire, flames the shower couldn’t extinguish. Your legs turned to jelly with every thrust, every delicious thrust you could no longer tell was too much or exactly right.

Reality became abstract. There was only his cock inside you and his hand at your throat, holding you up while delicate squeezes stoked the heat further. You had never been fucked this well. So well that you were catapulted beyond limits you’d thought possible.

“I can’t take it,” you complained anyway, though he held you, though all you had to do was take.

“You can, baby. You’re so good for me.”

Even Leon felt how limp you’d become against him, no longer able to hold yourself up, your body simply receptive and open. It was one of those rare fucks where there were only two people and a connection that felt impossible to break. He wouldn’t even consider coming until you had.

One hand remained at your throat, supporting you with careful pressure. The other slid down between your legs to your wildly throbbing clit.

You mumbled incoherent words, losing your ability to speak, your sounds dissolving into high-pitched whimpers. Your mind screamed that it was too much, but your body wanted more, more, more. It showed him through your rhythmic contractions, drawing a strained groan from Leon, followed by a sharp exhale and then a deep, guttural moan.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathed, the sensation ripping through him, his cock almost just a conduit for the electric pulses flooding his entire body.

It was the best fuck he’d had in a long time.

His fingers drew merciless circles over your clit, making your walls flutter around him even more.

You needed that sweet release, needed the climax more than the delicious torture, the overwhelming build. It was almost as if you were summoning it through sheer will, pressing his cock deeper, feeling him so consciously, every vein vivid in your mind.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”

“That’s a good girl. Come for me,” the words rushed into your ears.

Your body, limp moments ago, granted you one last surge of strength, tensing against his powerful frame, every nerve firing wild sensations through you as you came hard enough to leave you dizzy between breathless cries and swirling steam. You were fairly certain you would have collapsed under his unrelenting pace if he hadn’t been holding you upright – if he hadn’t driven your orgasm so far that you screamed his name into the shower, overstimulated, right at your limit.

“Wanna have me come as well, pretty girl?”

The fact that you even processed the words was a miracle, given that you were lost in complete ecstasy.

“Yes–yes, please, shit, please!”

That was all Leon needed.

He released your throat, demanded one final effort from you, gripping your hips as he let go. His pelvis snapped against you, grinding into you like a man on a mission, his cock wrapped in tight, wet heat.

Leon’s fingers dug into your flesh as a wave of pleasure tore through him, his vision going blurry somewhere between paradise and you, guided by your high, melodic cries.

Small and larger sounds escaped through his clenched teeth, but above all a long, drawn-out growl as his body told him it was time to spill inside you. His orgasm seized him, nearly shattering him with its intensity, his lower half on fire and ice all at once. God, if only the feeling of your pussy milking him could last forever, the pumping into you never stopping.

Leon gave you everything he had. A release that had been building ever since the first time you’d spoken to him. Again and again he thrust his essence into you until overstimulation forced him to stillness.

The aftermath felt like stepping down from clouds back to earth.

Leon remained inside you, unwilling to separate just yet. Strong arms pulled you upright against him, long fingers catching your chin and turning your face to his for a slow, lingering kiss while your racing hearts gradually steadied.

Your legs trembled. You were so warm that you fumbled for the shower handle, turning the water down to lukewarm. When you finally managed to focus, you saw Leon’s satisfied expression, his eyes fixed on you with devotion, droplets falling from the tips of his hair.

“I’d say the training paid off.”

He flashed an open, happy grin.

Your mind slowly returned to you, but you managed a smile of your own.

“Want to train some more when I’m back from my mission?”

He let out a soft laugh. “You bet.”

Another kiss landed on your lips. A small, beautiful promise.

The job at the DSO was the best one you’d ever had.

It's hard to focus on the positives when the debrief takes too damn long, and not for any serious reasons, but because two of the most bureaucratic office-workers, ones who had no idea what they even sent their field agents into, decide to get in an argument over petty details. He nearly walks out before someone manages to get them to shut up. It had eaten up forty-five minutes. He could've been home by now.

Finally out of the offices, discharged officially from duty for about a week to recover, he heads to the parking lot. His car greets him in the same spot, but there's a note on the windshield. He stops in his tracks, closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards in defeat. Of course someone hit his fucking car.

It's just a scratch, but he'll have to get work done to fix it. He grumbles under his breath, trying his best to remember that you're waiting for him, a mere half an hour drive away.

He daydreams about your place, filled with reminders of you. Sheets smelling of your favorite laundry detergent. Two drawers and a space in the closet that you cleared out for him since he practically lives there. A framed photo of the two of you. Trinkets he'd brought you, and trinkets you brought him that he insists stay at your place. It's warmer there, lived in. He wants them to have a home. His apartment is an empty, cold place with an unmade bed, a handle of whiskey, and not much else. He doesn't remember the last time he was even there. When he isn't working, he's with you. It's all he really needs.

Of course, he gets stuck in traffic.

He grips the wheel in frustration, letting out a deep sigh. He tries to convince himself it's a line of coincidences, and not a strike of his repeatedly bad luck. This time, there were just far less stakes. He isn't going to die. Although it surely feels that way, a week home with you being dangled over his head like a dog's favorite snack. The only thing in the way currently is everyone and their mother slowing down to look at someone with a tire blowout. 

Finally, finally, he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex. And of course, the elevator is broken. At this point, he just laughs dryly, beginning the ascent up four flights of stairs.

"Anything else?" He mutters to the world.

When he reaches your door, he fumbles with the spare key you'd given him long ago, finally pushing in the lock and being welcomed into his favorite place on earth. Leftover curry sits on the stove, a lonely dirty dish in the sink, and an empty, clean one set at the small dining table. The two chairs are still pushed together from dinner before he had left. You refuse to sit across from him when you're alone.

"All that useless space between us? No thanks."

His stomach twists with guilt at the sight. You had left it all set out in case he came home. He wonders if you've done that every night.

Leon begins to undress as he moves toward your bedroom door. Holsters, shoulder pads, belt, boots, each one come off in succession as he goes, eventually a pile in the corner of the room for him to collect later. The last bit of weight is lifted from his shoulders when he hears your soft singing float from under the shower running. Suddenly all his bad luck feels cancelled out. He makes sure to knock before entering, lest he get punched square in the nose.

You stiffen at the sudden knock, but immediately relax at the deep, rough voice assuring you he isn't a random intruder.

"It's me," Leon says. You peek around the shower curtain, his familiar blue eyes already glued to your figure. "Mind if I join?"

"I dunno," you hum. "What's in it for me?"

"Selfish," he chuckles, knowing that statement is a complete lie. He begins to strip out of the remainder of his clothes, ready to trade them for your skin on his. He takes three wide strides before stepping in the shower and engulfing you in his arms. You giggle at his enthusiasm. Leon lets out the world's biggest sigh as the remainder of his stress floats away, holding you tight. Your skin is pleasantly warm from the water, and he hardly minds being left outside of the stream. It's not cold as long as he has you.

"Missed you," you turn, shoving your face in the crook of his neck. He feels every muscle in his body relax. Your touch is better than any masseuse could ever be.

"I missed you, too." His voice is soft, mixing with the pleasant white noise of the water hitting your back, the tiles. You pull back just enough to look at him, all doe eyes and softness. He loves you so damn much. He rests his open palm to your cheek, tugging you close to kiss you. It's gentle, but deep. A little desperate. A confession of just how much he's missed you, even if he was only gone less than a week. Any time is too much away from you.

He groans when your tongue pushes into his mouth, your chest pressing further against his. His hands slip down to grip at your ass and uses the leverage to pull you impossibly closer. You break the kiss, breathless, looking up at him with realization. He cocks a questioning eyebrow as you begin to scan his body for injuries. He lets you, knowing you won't relent until you know if he's hurt.

"No injuries?"

"Not a scratch," his hand sits at the curve of your waist. He's leaning closer and closer, and you almost don't register it, your mind somewhere else.

"You probably need to eat, I left you some food on the stove-" He cuts you off with another kiss. All you can do is make a noise of surprise, and he chuckles deeply before deepening the kiss. Your mouth is so warm, familiar, and you taste a little bit like your favorite chapstick. He can't get enough of you. Leon pulls away, only a millimeter, your chin between his fingers.

"Only thing I feel like eating right now is you," He feels a sense of satisfaction at the rising heat in your cheeks, visible even with the warmth of the shower heating your skin. Another quick, messy kiss before he continues. "And I'm starving."

True to his word, he kneels on the hard tile of the floor, already tired joints protesting, but he couldn't give less of a fuck. He's been dying to touch you all week, and now that you're here, warm and blushing under his touch, it couldn't be any more delicious for him.

"Fuck," falls from your lips in a sigh as he licks a stripe across your slit. He leaves a kiss on your inner thigh, smiling smugly at the relief on your face. He sucks a love bite where he'd just kissed before he dares to stroke his thumb over you. You're already wet.

"You've been missing me that bad, huh?" You think you could collapse from the smirk on his face between your legs. He pushes you against the wall and throws your leg on his shoulder, spreading for him. He licks again, and you know your fate is sealed once he starts focusing on your clit, all gentle licks and sucks to not overstimulate you just yet. "Talk to me, baby, wanna hear you."

"Feels so good," you groan as he continues, sucking a seal around your clit, tongue laving over your vulva. You moan even louder as he presses harder into you, nose giving delicious pressure for you to buck your hips on. It's his turn to moan into you. He loves when you get desperate like this. "Leon," you look down at him again, his baby blues already laser-focused on you. "Can you... fuck-" it's a struggle for you to get any words out when he spreads you open more, directly going for that little bud that has your legs shaking.

"What, sweetheart?" You tug at his hair in slight annoyance at his teasing smirk, face wet with water and your slick.

"Fuck you," you shove his face back down to your pussy before he can say that's the plan. "Need your fingers." You finally manage, and he complies without hesitation. One digit rubs softly at your entrance before slipping in, pumping deliciously slow. "Ohhh my god," you sigh as he returns to sucking your clit. The tension inside of you suddenly begins to build fast as he rubs over the perfect spot inside you. Leon can feel you tightening around him as he slips a second finger in, your moans only motivating him faster. He releases your clit to talk you closer.

"C'mon, angel," he kisses you more on your inner thigh, the crease between where your hip and your leg meet. "Doing so well."

"'M getting close."

"I know, baby," his thumb rubs messily at your clit as you whine. "Come for me." His stubble scratches deliciously against you when he goes back down for more, tight seal on your clit, fingers curling to hit that perfect spot inside you. You'll never understand how he has the wrist strength to hit it so perfectly in such a punishing speed. You can feel the tension getting tighter and tighter, your moans becoming louder. He's encouraging you the whole way, his own groans vibrating against you deliciously.

Just like that, it snaps, and his name falls from your lips in pleasure, your nails digging into your shoulder as you hold onto him desperately. He eats you through it, making you tremble with bone shattering pleasure. You twitch against him, and he pushes your hips against the tile wall to hold you down as he drinks you all up like he's never been thirstier in his life.

As the high slows into something fuzzier, he finally relents, trailing kisses from your thighs to your soft tummy. "Good girl," he praises against your skin as he rises to meet your lips again. His fingers knead at your hips, and he presses his erection against your thigh greedily. You lick into his mouth, and he gasps an uncontrolled, deep groan when you trace your finger down his cock.

"You want my mouth?" You ask, so sweetly like you weren't trying to suck his dick. In these moments, he wonders how you haven't killed him yet. He's so fucking hard it almost hurts.

"If you want," he murmurs, biting your lip, moving into another kiss.

"I asked what you want," your eyebrow is raised. "Use your words." You mock something he demands a lot from you, and the tables turned have him thrumming with arousal.

"Yeah," he's gentle, but firm enough to be sexy when he pushes you down to your knees this time. He thinks you must be some kind of god with the way you look up at him under your lashes, his cock mere inches from your sweet lips. "Want your mouth. Please."

"Someone's polite today," you smirk. He's scared he may cum immediately when you kiss the tip, already drooling pre-cum. Thankfully he has enough willpower to hold back, because the second his length enters your mouth, a guttural groan comes out of his chest without any control. He doesn't want this to end yet.

"You're gonna fucking kill me, sweetheart," he moans as you take him deeper. You hum with him still in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth, a hand stroking the rest of his length. Even after all this time, Leon still can't believe how well you treat him. 

He's going to fuck the shit out of you for it. You deserve it.

Your pace increases the louder he gets, clearly determined to make him finish. Leon has to will himself to gently stop you, tugging you back to his mouth. He tastes his own pre-cum and tries not to think about how much it turns him on.

"Was I not good enough for you?" You tease, knowing exactly why he made you stop.

"Sure," he grumbles, beginning to suck a hickey on your neck like you were teenagers. You let out a breathy laugh at his next comment pressed into your skin. "That's why I was about to fucking bust, sure." You know he's getting lovingly frustrated with your teasing. He knows you like to rile him up. When Leon's frustrated, he gets demanding. You like being manhandled by him.

"Someone's grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy," he huffs, clearly grumpy. "You're... being a brat." Your teeth bite into your lower lip, and he cannot believe how fucking hot you are. He's going to eat you alive.

He's in the middle of kissing you like a starved animal, body dwarfing yours against the tile, cock teasingly close to your entrance, when the water is suddenly no longer warm, and turning cold fast. He doesn't break the kiss or hesitate in one second as he turns off the water with one hand, yanking open the shower curtain, and lifting you up in his grasp. He's not sure how he doesn't slip and send both of you to the ground. Your hands run greedily over his shoulders and biceps as he deposits you on the bathroom counter. Your nipples have pebbled at the sudden exposure to cold, and he takes the opportunity to thumb over them, squeezing them enough to make you whine.

"Too many fuckin' things going wrong," he mutters. "Keeping me from you." He doesn't elaborate. Its something you'll have to ask about later. "Been thinking about this all week."

"Not very focused on your work, then," you tut, egging him on. He practically growls and throws your arms above your head, holding you in place with one hand, the other still kneading at your breasts.

"You're really playing it up today, huh?" He grins wolfishly. "You wanna get treated like a brat?" You try your best to look innocent. Leon doesn't buy it, but he thinks you're cute, so he plays along. He pinches your nipple tighter and you moan quietly. "Don't get all shy on me now," he ducks down to nip at your jaw, all the way to underneath your ear, where he knows it makes you shiver pleasantly. "If you're so needy, tell me what you want, beautiful."

You're lightheaded with arousal this point, voice airy in his ear.

"Need you inside me. Please." He slides his cock against your swollen clit before you even finish. It's throbbing against you.

"That's all you want? Hm?" His fingers dig pleasantly into your hips. You're sure tomorrow his fingerprints will be all over you. "Like this?" He slides the tip in and stays frustratingly still. You squirm under his hold, desperate for more. "What?"

"Jesus Christ, put it all the way in, please," you're nearly crying from need. He can't believe he hasn't cum from just watching you beg. "Please. Leon." He never gets tired of hearing you say his name. So many times someone has called his name in fear, in desperation. You say it like it's your favorite word, like it's the only thing that matters. And now, you say it like it's your salvation.

"I love hearing you say my name," he pushes all the way in now, deliciously slow and deliberate. A small yes of relief falls from your lips and he eats it up. He watches you, drinks in every detail of your pleasure, your pretty face. He releases your wrists in favor of caressing your cheek. You lean into his palm immediately, melting under his touch. It makes his heart twist pleasantly to know you crave his hands on you, you feel safe with him. Safe enough for this, safe enough to be so teasing and playfully submissive to him. For all his bad luck today, his whole life, he thinks that maybe it's to balance out the luck he was given to have you in his life. You make a small surprised gasp when he kisses you almost chastely, so tender despite being bottomed out inside you. "I love you so much." He murmurs. You smile hard, ruining your bratty facade.

"I love you, too," your hands slide up his chest, resting over his pecs. He slips one of his hands over yours and threads his fingers with yours. He squeezes tightly, an extra sweet addendum to his I love you. You sigh as he moves slowly, a pace that makes you want to cry from how good it feels. Tears well in your eyes and you choke out a laugh. "Fuck, Leon."

"Yeah?" His eyes soften at your reaction, a silent ask if you're okay. You nod at him as he thumbs away a tear.

"C'mon, baby," you wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts slowly, begging for more. "Ruin me." You're almost not ready as he thrusts increase in force, his hold on you bringing you closer. The counter might as well not be there, as he's practically holding you up now. Your neck lolls back in pleasure, mouth open wide in a silent moan. He's hitting you in that perfect, spongey spot that has your hips grinding back into his thrusts desperately.

"God I missed your pussy," Leon's language turns filthier, a telltale sign that he was starting to near his end. "Fuck, you feel so good on my cock."

"Just like that," you cry as he hits that deep spot in you over and over again. "Oh, shit." You feel the shift in your pleasure, a drop gaining momentum faster than you can control to prolong how good this feels. "Oh my god, Leon I-"

"Me too," he grunts, kissing you messily, all spit and desperation. "Fuck, cum for me, baby. So beautiful for me," he reaches down to rub at your clit and you can't control the near-scream from your mouth as you tighten around him. He moans in response, lips next to your ear to talk you through it. "That's it, cum all over me." He tugs at your earlobe with his teeth, slamming his hips into you over and over. "Good girl. Fuck, you're so hot. Look at you," his pace is punishing now as he nears his own climax. "Where do you want it, hm?"

"Shit, Leon, inside," you're trying to catch your breath, but it's impossible as he rails you into the counter, your head smacking back on the mirror. "Come inside me. Please."

"You're too fucking good to me," he reaches for your hand again, threading your fingers together as his groans turn into a whine. Your joined hands slam into the mirror behind you, and you'll be shocked if it isn't shattered. "Fuck, I'm cumming." He releases inside of you, cock and hips twitching and pressing your hips into the counter so hard you're scared it's going to break.

He lets his weight rest on you for a few minutes as the both of you catch your breath. You feel his pressure slowly release, his now soft cock slipping out of you, a trail of mixed arousal following. You shiver at the emptiness, now craving his touch as he moves away to grab a towel.

"I've got you," he's breathless, gentle as he cleans you up. Leon tries not to look at all the hand prints on the steamed mirror, lest he get hard all over again. He may have wanted that to last forever, but he doesn't think his sore muscles can handle more of that. You're not faring much better. Your legs tremble against his touch.

Once you're all cleaned up, he scoops you up to bring you to bed. While you relax into the sheets, he goes and double checks that the door is locked, as always, putting away the leftovers, turning on the bathroom fan to let some of the steam dissipate. You're already watching him when he pads back into the room, laying on your side like some renaissance painting. He admires the curve of your body for a moment from across the room, until you outstretch your arms for him.

"C'mere, handsome." He would never deny your touch. He pulls the blanket over the two of you as you snuggle into his chest, still damp with sweat. After a moment, your heartbeats settle to a normal rate, beating alongside each other. He traces his fingers over your shoulders, following down the curve of your spine, all the way down to your thigh now thrown over his hip. You yawn with a satisfied hum as you hug him close.

"Did your assignment go badly?" You suddenly ask. He looks down at you in confusion.

"No, why?"

"You mentioned things going wrong earlier," you mumble into his skin. He can feel your body relaxing as sleep's shadow stretches over you. He lightly scratches between your shoulder blades, then soothes it with some rubs, repeating the motion across the expanse of your back.

"Just some dumb luck," he doesn't elaborate for now. You're getting sleepy fast, and he's right behind you. He can't hold back a yawn. "Nothing to worry about, now. I've got you." He kisses your forehead twice. An extra to thank the universe for his luck.

As you wait for the bartender to replenish your glass, you let your gaze wander across the room. The banner, reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” has fallen a bit, now reading something closer to “APPY BIRTHD.” Jill and Chris are arguing over one of them supposedly cheating at their billiards game. Some other friends are mingling around them, watching and laughing. A few random bar patrons have also joined the ring. Then your eyes land on Leon. And it’s like you lose a little more of your soul.

He’s leaning against the wall next to Claire, the birthday girl, smiling like nothing’s wrong. Like a mere hours earlier, he wasn’t ripping your heart out of your chest. She says something, gesturing to Chris, clearly telling an embarrassing story based on Chris’s indignant “hey!” Leon laughs. You want to throw up. And the fact that you’re this miserable over that man, sulking by yourself during a birthday celebration, makes you feel even more ill.

“Bad day?” You nearly jump out of your skin when a man sidles up to you. He’s not one of Claire’s friends, and no one you recognize from your field.

“You could say that,” you mutter. Fuck it. Might as well tell your woes to this random guy you’d never see again. Even if he’s just interested in a pity fuck, it’s at least a little more care than you feel from the guy you were pining over. He orders a drink and gives you a smile, something pitying, but nice all the same. His light brown hair is tousled, one of those guys who manages to run a hand through it and have it sit perfectly every time. He’s cute, you weren’t blind.

“I just got off work, I have time. Care to share?” He leans toward you. You catch a whiff of his cologne, something that must be called Midnight Musk. A bottle that was cheap, mostly rubbing alcohol, but is good enough for most men. He really is not your type at all.

But it doesn’t really matter. You’re lonely. A little heartbroken over a guy who didn’t even know he had your heart. You lay it all out for the guy.

It’s all your fault, you tell yourself. You remind yourself that Leon doesn’t know. Because you’ve never had the guts to tell him. But it hurts all the same. And maybe you’re being stupid. A little juvenile. But you’re so tired of yearning after him, dropping hints in all his blindspots. The man had saved the president’s daughter, narrowly escaped a virus twice now, and was a top federal agent. Yet he couldn’t see how you were laid out, red and bleeding in front of him.

You inhaled. Exhaled.

Get it together.

“You can’t wear that, Leon,” you do your best to bury the ache in your stomach. Leon turns to you, in an athleisure compression shirt, and what he’d exclaimed were his nicest pants.

“Why not?”

“If you’re trying to impress Claire, I don’t think she’s into half-gym, half-streetwear,” you pilfer through his wardrobe with a grumble. Picking out clothes for him to ask another woman on a date? You really may be at your most pathetic yet. 

You finally stumble upon something noteworthy. A black knit sweater. You remember the last time he wore this. A reconnaissance mission together. Your cover? Two young lovers. He’d been sickeningly good at pretending. You remember every single millisecond of his hand in yours, on your back, pretending to fawn over you like a doting boyfriend. You’d be lying if it didn’t cross your mind often. Leon was much greener back then, sure, but there’s still something left of that softness in him, you think you see it sometimes when he’s with you. But the more time goes on, the more you just think you’re telling yourself what you want to hear.

“Here,” you practically shove it in his arms. Try not to look when he pulls off his current shirt to put it on.

“I forgot I had this,” he mumbles. “Don’t remember the last time I wore it.”

Ouch.

You stay silent, busying yourself with beginning to fold the rejected outfits, putting them back where they were previously. Leon makes a pleased noise.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he sighs. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” your voice cracks, and you swear under your breath.

“Everything alright?” Leon grabs your wrist to get you to look back at him. You only manage a side glance, wiping a stray tear from your eye. You feel so pathetic. Like a rejected teen. “Hey, whoa, what’s going on with you?”

“Allergies,” you croak. You’re not sure you can take Leon comforting you right now. Not with his stupid blonde hair, his stupid soft eyes, wearing an outfit you picked out so he could ask another girl out. On her birthday. At the party you were attending as well.

“You’re terrible at lying,” he sits you down on his bed. You feel sick to your stomach. “Let me help.” You can’t help but laugh, another tear rolling down your cheek.

“You can’t, it’s fine,” you lie. He could help. He could help by looking you in the eyes and telling you once and for all if he’s ever had feelings for you. If the little bit of hope you’d once had has been squashed once and for all, now that he’s recruited you as a behind-the-scenes wingman. But you suppose if that’s the case, that wouldn’t be very helpful at all. “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not true,” he sees through you so easily. It makes all of it so much worse. You’re sad; angry. At yourself. Misguidedly, at Leon. For not knowing what you can’t seem to be able to tell him. Because you’re not sure you can live without him, even if that means being arms length from each other forever.

“Just drop it,” you finally snap. Red hot embarrassment floods through you at your reaction, but you’ve begun, and now you can’t stop the frustration. “I can’t believe I said I’d help you with this.”

“What?” He says your name, his hand on your shoulder. It feels like a burn. "What's that supposed to mean?" He thinks you're being a dick, insinuating something unflattering. You cover your face. You're just making all of this a bigger mess.

"Nothing, I'm," you look away from him and swallow hard. "You really don't remember the last time you wore that sweater?"

"No," he looks even more confused. "Is that what's wrong?"

"It's not the sweater, it's me, I'm sorry, I'm just gonna go." You stand. Your fists clench, nails digging into your palms so hard you’re almost sure there’ll be imprints for days. “Leon, I-” Your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re not sure you can bear to look at him. “Good luck with Claire. Really. I can’t- I can’t sit here and watch you fall in love with someone else.”

"I'm not in love with anyone," he finally says exasperatedly. His words fall over one another, messy. It shouldn't hurt, but it does. More than if he was in love with someone else, somehow. He's following you to the door as you gather your things. "Tell me what the fuck is going on, please. You are so-" He loses his words, throwing his hands up. "You're so aggravating! I hate this- I hate-" You can't bear to hear him finish the sentence. The door slams behind you.

Of course, you don’t tell this guy every detail. You’re not that intoxicated. But you give him the gist. He grimaces once you finish.

“Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” he’s scooted a bit closer since you’ve started talking. You pretend not to notice. The closeness is nice, even if it’s from a stranger. He glances over your shoulder, and you know exactly who he’s looking at. “He’s that guy over there? Mr. Brooding?”

“Yeah,” you stifle a laugh at his nickname. “I have real good taste, huh?”

“Hey, he’s not my type, but no judgment here.”

“What is your type, then?” You’re honestly shocked that you have the mind to flirt, even if it’s a weak attempt. This guy must be horny, because he eats it right up. He cocks an eyebrow, lays a hand on your leg as he takes the bait, describing his type as exactly you. You try your best not to twitch away. It’s the first time in a very long time that you’ve not denied someone’s advances. Always waiting. Always leaving room for Leon.

Now, that room is locked up.

You convince yourself to be charmed by this guy. Let yourself touch him, let him be a little handsy with you. You’re just a person. You like being touched, and you’re the slightest bit horny, so why not drown your sorrows in some pity sex. He didn’t seem like he’d harm you.

The last thing you remember fully is stumbling out of the bar alongside Mr. Kinda Cute, both of you pretty hammered, and hailing a cab together. You vaguely remember a voice calling after you, but you’re too drunk to care. You need something to cover up any real feeling right now.

The next morning, you wake up in a messy apartment that isn’t yours and sigh deeply. 

Well, fuck.

Whatshisname is next to you, still passed out, rolled away from you after you’d had probably the sloppiest sex of your life. It wasn’t bad, but it sure wasn’t something to write home about. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, your feet hitting the floor fast. His mattress is on the floor.

You manage to find all of your clothes without issue, gathering up your belongings to get out of this guy’s life before he can wake and offer you something awkward like making breakfast.

Squinting at your phone, you see it’s already almost noon. Thank fuck it’s a Sunday. You’re not sure you could’ve mentally handled being late for work on top of all the other shit that had transpired in the past 24 hours. Unread messages from Leon, Claire, and a stray one or two from even Chris litter your inbox. You open the last two first.

CHRIS

Just wanted to see if you’re alright. Leon’s out of his mind worried about you.

I told him you can handle yourself if your date gets too frisky. Use protection ;)

CLAIRE

Hey, where’d you go? We haven’t had cake yet :( It’s your favorite

Leon’s freaking out. Please text him.

Hope you’re okay. Something’s weird with you two. Call me?

You frown. You shouldn’t have been such an asshole last night. Moping away at the bar while your friend was trying to celebrate her birthday. She spent half of it worrying about you. You’ll have to take her out to that brunch place she likes soon to make up for it. Maybe you’ll let her teach you to ride a motorcycle like she’s been hounding you to do, to have someone to go on joyrides with.

You stare at Leon’s name on your screen long enough for it to go black. You swear under your breath when it gives you a dead battery notification. 

You start making your way towards a main road to hail a cab home. 

Turns out whatshisface from the bar didn’t live more than ten minutes from you, so the cab ride was cheap and quick. You sigh as you head up the creaky stairs. You think you might spend the rest of the day moping in bed.

When you unlock the door, you nearly drop your jacket and keys. A familiar blonde head is passed out on the couch, hugging one of your throw pillows like its his childhood teddy bear. It’s a little cute.

You shut the door quietly, kicking off your shoes and dumping your stuff on the breakfast bar to deal with later. You watch Leon rest for a moment, trying to decide if you should let him sleep or wake him up. He must’ve picked your damn lock last night looking for you. Freak. The thought is affectionate.

You don’t have to choose, because in two seconds he’s stirring, sitting up and scrubbing his palms over his face with a groan. You don’t even pretend like you’re not staring at him.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my gun. I should’ve shot you, squatter.” Leon’s shoulders tense, rising as he takes in a deep breath. He looks at you for a second, and the slight glare in his eyes sends a chill down your spine. He’s never looked at you like that before.

“Where were you?”

“Out,” you reply, like a kid talking back to their parent.

“You disappeared, you can’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m an adult.”

“You- Who’s shirt is that?” You frown, and look down at yourself to find out as well. Fuck. You’d grabbed the guys t-shirt instead of yours. Oops. You recover quickly, as if it’s something you did on purpose.

“None of your business.”

“Is it from the guy who you fucked last night?

“How would you know?”

“You’re an adult,” he throws back at you. “I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not,” you cross your arms. You’re not sure how you’ve walked into your apartment and immediately pulled into an argument. “I just don’t see how it’s got anything to do with you.”

“It’s got everything to do with me.” You can tell he didn’t mean to say that. But it was out in the open now. Your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?”

“I literally do not know what you mean.” Your voice is quieter than you intend. You’re catching on to what he does mean. And desire pools in your lower stomach before you can push it away. 

“Take it off.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he rises from the couch. His hands are on his hips now as he stares you down. His eyes drag over you, taking in the untucked shirt hanging over your skirt. In this way, it looked like you weren’t wearing pants. Leon feels something possessive wake in him. It should be his shirt on you. You, with no pants, hanging all over him on this rainy Sunday morning, cozied up on the couch like some domestic sitcom. Not you, in some other guy’s shirt, hair a mess from the night before, and a pout on your lips as you try your best to stay mad at him.

“Take what off?” You have to ask, because you’re sure that you’re making up what he’s insinuating.

“That shirt,” his jaw tenses. “Take it off. Now.” Your body betrays you. You can feel how damp your panties are growing. It’s fast, and far wetter than you’d been last night.

“Come over here and make me.” Your hands are trembling at your side, and you’re not sure if it’s from want or nerves. Leon swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob.

“Fuck,” is all he says before he’s rushing straight towards you. He backs you toward the front door until he’s towering over you, chest heaving. Your heart is racing, not in panic or fear, but from his closeness to you. The way there’s something dark in his eyes with want. He lifts your arms with gentle force, and yanks the shirt over your head in one smooth motion. The two of you stand there for a moment, your heavy breaths exhaling in tandem with one another. You’re almost sure that you must be dreaming, in a drunk stupor passed out somewhere.

You’re standing underneath Leon in your bra, skirt, and socks, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. And never been more turned on. He’s got a possessive streak in his eye, and his hands are firm as they grip your hips. Before you know it, he’s on you, drawing a high pitched noise from you with a messy, hard kiss. It’s laced with desperation as he pulls your body into him, and you shiver as the fabric of his sleep-rumpled top, the one you’d picked out just the day before, tickles your bare skin.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stand there, making out heavily and trying your best to get under each other’s skin. It feels like forever, and you kind of hope it is. Leon’s lips stay melded to yours, tongue exploring your mouth, as he picks you up. A noise of surprise falls into your kiss, and you grab onto his shoulders tight. He kicks your bedroom door open and shut, throwing you on your bed. You’re a little stunned, dizzy from his kiss, and don’t move. He’s pulling off his shirt, his pants coming off with it, and you’re staring at every inch of his skin that is revealed.

“Like what you see?” He’s back on top of you before your short-circuited brain can respond. Leon notices your stillness, your uncharacteristic silence. He kisses your cheek, whispers now, a note of gentleness in his voice that was full of frustration a second ago. “Is this okay?” You barely manage to breathe out a yes, please, and he chuckles, low and full of something dirty. “Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna fuck you until you forget that asshole’s name.”

You’re absolutely sure your panties are soaked through, and you’re almost embarrassed when he slips his hand down, down, down and sighs when he feels it.

“Fuck,” he captures you in another deep kiss, rubbing over your wet heat deliciously slow. You moan into his mouth. He’s hard and straining against his briefs, you can feel it brush against your thigh as he presses you into the mattress. “You this wet last night? Hm?”

“No,” you breathe. Leon makes a noise of approval. He pulls your panties to the side to look at you, and you shiver at his fingers against your exposed pussy. “‘s just for you.”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “So good for me.” He places a kiss on your chest, just over your heart. The movement seems purposeful, and it sends a white-hot streak through your body. Leon slips his free hand under your back. “Lift up, wanna see you,” you obey immediately, his nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your bra without much fanfare. He throws it across the room and devours you again, hands roaming over the now exposed skin. He’s mumbling words like beautiful and want you so bad and you try your best to compartmentalize your racing thoughts to fully enjoy this moment. His hair tickles your skin the further he moves down, taking your skirt and ruined underwear with you.

You let out a long, animalistic whine when he licks a single, long stripe up your pussy. Leon’s fueled by it and repeats the movement again, stopping at your clit to suck it into his mouth. You bite your lip to hold back another loud noise, twitching against his steady hands as the move upwards to caress your breasts. He clocks your silence within seconds and is pulling away. You give him a confused look at his sudden change.

“Get on your knees,” he yanks your ankles with one hand towards the end of the bed. You feel like ants are crawling beneath your skin with how badly you crave his touch again. Leon’s got a face of concentration you’ve only seen on missions; a serious set in his brow, a commanding tone lacing his words. It’s unbelievably sexy. You’re not one who takes orders easily, but with his handsome face and rough hands manhandling you, you’re melting in his grip. Obedient. You want nothing more than his praise, to please him.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when his palm lands on your ass with a loud smack.

Oh. That’s new.

You’d be lying if you didn’t like it.

“What happened to all those noises?” He leans over your back, rubbing where he’s just surely left a red handprint. “I liked them,” he presses kisses down your spine. You shiver against his touch, gentle movements are a soft undertone to his otherwise firm words. “I want you to be loud for me, baby.” Baby.

If this is all horniness, and nothing else, you think you may die after this. Because you’re not sure you can ever get this out of your head. It’ll be etched like an epitaph in your brain.

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” you agree, breathless. “Please just fuck me, Leon. I can’t take it.”

“Yes, you can, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” you can feel the head of his cock brush your thigh. “Since you asked nicely.” He rubs his shaft against you, coating it in copious slick that was nearly dripping down your legs at this point. “This how you were last night? Underneath that guy?” You don’t answer, just huff and grind your hips back into his. He kneads your ass roughly in his big hands. He pulls you upward, back into his chest so he can breathe into your ear. “Or was it more like this?”

“More like I was doing all the work,” you mumble. You can still feel the soreness in your thighs from trying desperately to get yourself off the night before. It never came. Or, rather, you never did. Maybe that’s part of why you’re so desperate right now. Leon’s behavior certainly isn’t helping.

He scoffs, squeezing you tight to him.

“Yeah? Fucking yourself on him? You make yourself cum all on your own?” You almost blanch at what you’d have to confess next.

“No,” you inhale sharply when he begins rubbing at your clit. “Never- never got there.” Leon makes a noise of disapproval and you feel like you’re floating when he flips the two of you on your backs. He curls around you with a protective hold. His knee knocks your legs open, and he returns his throbbing length against your wetness. Without any niceties, he pushes inside you, and the groan that leaves your lungs is high. A whine of relief, of what’s to come.

"He never fucked you like this?" He slams his hips into you, and you shake your head.

"No," you mumble. "Wanted me to suck him off, then ride him. Barely even moved."

"My poor baby," he croons, a layer of sex heavy in the tone of his voice. "So neglected. I'll make you forget he ever even touched you." Another sharp thrust against you, followed by the grind of his hips.

"Please," you beg. Not only for him to fuck you so good you forget about your one night stand, but to move his goddamn cock within you. You feel like you're walking a tightrope, dangled so close to pleasure that the lack of it was hurtful.

"Love hearing you beg for me."

You can feel his chest heaving behind you as he stills. His arm wraps around your stomach tightly and he uses the other hand beneath you to turn your head toward him. His sharp blue eyes bore into yours, and you’re struck by the sudden intimacy of the position, of the way he’s looking at you like he’s finally got the one thing he’s always wanted in his arms. The small glimmer of hope that hadn’t died within you yet burst, and your heart pumps in your ears. A careful hand reaches up to brush the hair falling in his eyes away, so you could keep admiring him.

You’re still staring at each other when he thrusts, slowly, but all the way in you. Hard. You bite your lip. His gaze narrows again. He thrusts even harder as punishment.

Well, something that feels this good is hardly punishing.

You don’t hold back your moan this time.

“Good girl,” the phrase sends shockwaves over your body. Another new discovery. Leon notices the goosebumps on your arms, the way your breath hitches. He presses his nose into your cheek, keeping his slow, hard pace. It has your body wracked with tingles of pleasure. “You like that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you manage to mumble, messily finding your way to his mouth. He chuckles into the kiss, the hand previously on your jaw moving to cup your breast. His pace increases to a steady tempo. You angle your hips so he hits your g-spot just right, letting out a gasp the first time he thrusts into the spongy spot. Once he hears the change in your pitch, the way your pussy tightens around him, he’s off like a racehorse.

Over and over again, he’s pounding you, panting in your ear from the effort. Your hands are touching him everywhere you can reach, and he’s letting out something close to whines at the feel of your fingertips being so gentle with him. Like he’s something precious, not a hardened creature meant for war and violence.

You grind your hips back desperately into his, wanting to help, wanting to show him you want him as desperately as he’s fucking you. This sends him into a spiral, and he’s teething at your neck, tightening his grip around your waist so hard it feels like he’s the one moving you back and forth on his cock.

“‘M not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he grunts, and you smirk.

“That’s kinda the point,” you look up at him, and he stares at you, mouth open in pleasure. Your eyes are dark, lids heavy with pleasure, and you’re giving him a smile that he’s not yet seen before. It’s something a little filthy, your lips twisted upwards just so. Faded lipstick from the night before is smudged at the corner of your mouth, and he feels a rush of satisfaction that he’s the one who’s ruined it, because it wasn’t like that when you first walked in.

That guy didn’t even have the nerve to kiss you.

“Fuck, gorgeous.”

“Wanna make you cum-" he cuts you off with a sloppy, wet kiss, all gnashing teeth and whimpers. He finds himself going even faster somehow, chasing the high in your warm, wet pussy like it’s his salvation. “Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Wanted this for so long.”

“Yeah?” The confession encourages him further. He feels so fucking stupid all of a sudden. You’d wanted him this whole time, and he’d been off trying to get himself to fall in love with someone new just to ease the pain. “You wanted me?”

“So bad,” you kiss him again. You can feel yourself approaching your end, your moans becoming more staggered, breath more shallow. Leon picks up on it fast, and is already running his hand down your body to circle your clit. It’s the perfect pressure, a precise circle that’s hitting you somehow exactly where your own fingers fall when you’re thinking of him. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

“Fuck, I’m-I’m cumming, ffu-” he can’t even finish the last word before he’s releasing into you with something close to a deep whine, a grunt of spent effort, a pleasure so profound in his bones that every muscle in his body tenses still. You can feel the mix of your release slowly leaking out from you, and you’re practically shaking with need. You’re so close.

Leon knows this.

His frozen hand returns to rubbing at your clit, gritting his teeth through the sensitivity as he fucks you half-hard, desperate for you to cum. To show you what you deserve.

His teeth pull at your earlobe as he pushes you over a little so you’re laying half on his chest, and he’s thrusting up into you. He gropes you roughly, the callouses on his fingers sliding over your soft skin so pleasantly. The friction of that, combined with the deep thrusts of his spent cock, his fingers rubbing you… there’s not much more you can take.

He feels you tighten around his cock, and makes a noise of a approval.

“C’mon, angel, I can feel you,” he pants. “Cum all over me, please. Wanna make you feel good.”

“You make me feel so fucking good,” your voice is rising, higher than usual, out of your control. “Leon. Fuck- shit, I’m-”

“Yeah? Tell me, baby. Talk to me, let go for me.”

“I’m- fuck, I’m cumming,” you say, a little louder than you mean, but by the way Leon increases his speed to fuck you through it, it’s exactly what he wants. You’re swearing into his mouth as he kisses you again. “Leon.”

“Good girl, I love it when you say my name,” he praises as you near-scream, the thread inside you snapping deliciously. Your arousal leaks further around him as he slams deep in you one final time, rubbing your clit fast to ensure you feel every last bit of your orgasm. He watches your face as it stills in pleasure, a silent scream followed by gasping breaths. He squeezes your waist and slows his fingers. “That’s it.” He only ceases his rubbing when he feels your legs twitch a little violently at the overstimulation. His hand finds its place on your cheek, and he pulls you into a hazy, dizzying kiss. He’s fully softened inside you now, but it doesn’t stop the shiver that runs through you when he pulls out. You know you’ve ruined the sheets, but it’s hard to care when he’s running his hands over your curves.

You take a minute to enjoy your bodies stuck together like this. Breath synchronized as you catch up to the moment, coming back down to each others arms. You really just want him to hold you, but the mess leaking from between your legs is growing into a small puddle too fast to be comfortable. You shift and begin to move towards the bathroom. Leon's grip on you tightens for a moment.

“Where’re you going?” There’s something in his expression similar to a dejected puppy when you’re pulling away from him.

“Just cleaning up real fast, I’ll be back,” you promise. His hands stay on you until the very last second, flopping lifelessly once you’re fully out of his grasp. It’s very cute.

You clean yourself up with a damp washcloth and do your best not to stare too long at your flushed cheeks in the mirror. You’re coming to terms with the fact that Leon Kennedy had just given you the best sex of your life, and he was currently waiting, wrapped in the sheets of your bed like he’s always belonged there. And maybe he has.

You bring a washcloth with you back to the bed, cleaning him up as well, since you were kind of responsible for the mess that had spread to his own thighs. He catches you by the waist before you can return to the bathroom with the washcloth, practically ripping it out of your hands and throwing it aside. He hauls you into his lap, hungrily kissing you, this time something lazier, more chaste. You eagerly press yourself into him. His face is still cradled in your hands when he pulls away. His eyes aren’t blown with a sexual desire, they’re something warmer, a misty fog dragging you into him. You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth for good measure.

“How’d it go with Claire?” Only now could you pull that joke from you, sitting on Leon’s lap, his eyes on you like you’re the sun shining down on him. You feel more like a moon; reflecting back his own happiness in your eyes, because that’s what’s responsible for why you’re so sure about all of this. He scoffs at your comment.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later,” you push him back towards the headboard and straddle his thighs so he could lean back. You trace a small heart on his chest, and he notices immediately, not hiding the smile on his face. “Sorry for blowing up on you. It wasn’t fair.”

“I think I can forgive you,” he muses. “We were both pretty stupid.”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Love does that, huh?” Leon’s cheeks flush pink, not from exhaustion or his spent energy, but from your words.

“Love.”

“Oh-” You realize the implication and begin to backtrack. “Well, I-”

“Shut up. I love you.” It’s your turn to blush. You’re not sure how to respond so you just hug him. He squeezes you tight to his chest, and it feels like your heart is expanding faster than you can take. You feel so, so warm.

“You wanna know something funny?” You suddenly say into his shoulder. He hums, and begins to scratch pleasantly across your back. You sigh. “I didn’t even know that guy’s name in the first place.”

The whole house smells like a warm bakery by the time you reach the wardrobe. There it is—the blue sundress, still hanging exactly where you left it in the back. You reach for it before you can talk yourself out of it. 

The silk slides easily over your hips, the fabric soft and light against your skin. Your reflection makes you pause. Yeah…he’s definitely going to notice this.

You settle for a lighter makeup look, adding more emphasis to your eyes. An approving hum slips from you as you study your reflection. 

You gather your hair, letting it fall loosely before smoothing it down, just enough to make it sit the way you want. A few strands frame your face as you give yourself one last look.

The air in the kitchen is warm. You tuck the last of your things into your purse before stepping toward the oven. When you open it, the smell of fresh cookies rises up –sweet and inviting—and something in your chest loosens.

You take them out carefully, wrapping them into a container, your movements slower now, steadier. 

With the cookies secured, you move back to your purse. You unzip it, glancing inside—phone, keys, everything still in place—then close it and sling the strap over your shoulder.

Outside, your skin tingles under the heat of the sun. The neighborhood’s quietness amplifies the sound of your steps, the fabric of the dress swishing against your legs. Your grip on the container tightens, palms slick as you near Leon's house. A stupid idea, you thought, scoffing. 

Before you can hesitate further, you’re already on Leon’s front porch. With a deep inhale, your hold on the container loosens. Relax Y/N. Don’t overthink this. Wiping your free hand down your dress, you ring the doorbell and quickly retract it to your side. 

Insecurity washes over you as the moment stretches on, and for a second you wonder if you should’ve just stayed home. Just as you start to wallow—

“Hey there.”

You look up—and there he is. Leon. Obnoxiously attractive as ever.

He’s clad in a long-sleeved compression shirt, completely unfitting for the summer heat. It clings to him, outlining his physique a little too well. Is that even his size?

And he smells—god, he smells incredible. Clean and warm, something woodsy underneath, like fresh soap and fabric that’s been sitting in the sun too long.

Your breath hitches as you catch yourself gawking like a creep. Your posture straightens unconsciously. Not trusting your voice yet, you lift a hand in an awkward wave, nearly dropping the plastic container in the process.

The container is pressed closer to your chest now. “Hi…Mr. Kennedy," your voice comes out breathless–way too breathless. God, you felt like a highschooler with a barely masked crush.

“How’s it going Y/n,” Leon’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you try not to linger on the quiet warmth in it.

You cough. “Um, fine—really fine. How about you?” That last part comes out a little rushed.

“Not too bad,” Leon answers, a warm smile on his face.

Without overthinking, you hold out the cookies to him. “So uh..I think I underestimated the portion and made too much of these,” the deliberate lie slips out from you. “...And I thought, maybe you’d like some?” 

Hmm, that was much less frightening than you thought it would be. Surprise flickers across Leon’s face, but he quickly masks it with a faint smile. He certainly hadn’t expected his next-door neighbor to show up at his door, somehow even prettier than he remembered.  For a moment, he just takes in the sight of you before speaking.

“I really appreciate it, Y/n.”

A quiet hum leaves his lips as he takes the cookies from you, his expression softening. “These look really good,” he says, glancing back at you, “Thanks, again.”

Nodding, you reply, “It’s nothing.” Now that your hands have lost their anchor, you smooth them down your dress, hoping to hide just how nervous you feel.

Leon scratches the back of his neck, looking toward his apartment. He hesitates, then asks, “Do you… maybe want to come in? If it’s okay.”

You press your lips together, stifling the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Not wanting to make your excitement too obvious, you reply, “I don’t want to be a bother.” You’re secretly hoping he sees right through the bluff and insists on letting you in anyway.

He tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “A bother? Not at all… I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Okay—of course… I mean, yeah.” You groan internally at the sound of your voice, please stay home next time. Leon, however, doesn’t react to your flustered state, simply stepping aside to let you in.

The first thing you notice is how clean and quiet his place is. Light streams through the tall windows, hitting the pale floors and making the space feel bigger than it is. There’s barely any furniture, but it all feels effortless, like someone who uses what they need and nothing more.

Leon walks over to the kitchen, placing the cookies on the sleek marble countertops. His kitchen is immaculate, almost too neat. He gestures his hands towards the living room, “Please y/n, make yourself at home.” 

You shift slightly, then reply, “Thanks,” moving to sit on the couch. You tuck your hands into your lap, hoping you don’t look as out of place as you feel. A half read book lies upside down on the coffee table, its pages slightly bent, like it had been abandoned mid-thought. You linger on it for a moment—then your gaze shifts, catching on the wilting flowers in the vase. The faint scent of their petals drifts to you, and after a pause, you clear your throat and glance at him.

“Mr. Kennedy,” you say, your words a little halting, “what do you usually get up to this time of year?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Leon’s fine,” he says with a small smile. “And…well,” he hums for a moment, “not anything interesting if I'm being honest. Just, maybe picking up some old hobbies.”

You hum. “Makes sense… I should probably be more like you, Mr Kenne—uh, Leon.”

He raises an eyebrow, a small grin forming, “What, you mean boring and bad at cooking?”

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just… I want to have more time for myself. My friends always drag me to every new event.”

Though you liked keeping busy, sometimes you just wanted a little space to do your own thing, and honestly, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little “boring” for once.

“Well… it’s good to have a balance of both,” Leon says, walking over to where you’re seated, “just don’t compare yourself to me—or to anyone else.”

You chuckle, looking up at him, “Thanks for the wisdom.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Don’t mention it,” a hint of amusement in his tone. 

Leon’s eyes stay on you, calm and steady, and for a moment you can’t look away. Growing shy under his gaze, you look to the side, pretending the abstract painting on his wall is suddenly fascinating. Your stomach twists, a faint warmth creeping up your neck. Woman up Y/n — you didn’t come here to melt under his stare.

The quiet stretches, just enough for you to notice the soft ticking of the clock.

“…You look different today,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Different how?” you ask, looking back at him, trying to sound normal and failing miserably.

He shrugs slightly, but doesn’t look away, “Dressed up,” he says. “For cookies?”

Oh God. Abort mission. “I always dress like this,” you lie.

He steps a little closer, not enough to be obvious, but enough that you notice.

“Right,” he says, uncertainty laced in his tone.

“You don’t look convinced.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Maybe I’m not,” he says.

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “God, you’re making this really embarrassing for me.”

His expression shifts, softer now. “Wasn’t my intention,” he says quietly.

You take a deep breath in. “I just…” you start, then stop. God, say it. 

You let out a small, nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Wow, this sounded a lot better in my head.”

Leon doesn’t interrupt this time, he just watches you, patiently, and that almost makes it worse.

“I didn’t come here just to give you cookies,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I mean—I did, but not just for that.”

Your fingers twist together in your lap. 

“I wanted an excuse to see you.”

There. It’s not everything, but it’s something? The silence that follows isn’t awkward, just, heavy.

Leon’s expression has changed again. Not teasing this time. Something more focused, like he’s actually seeing you now.

“…An excuse?” he repeats. 

You nod quickly, heat rushing to your face. “Yeah. Because if I didn’t have one, I probably wouldn’t have come over at all.”

“Why not?”

You let out a breath, almost a huff. “Because you make me nervous.”

That earns you a quiet reaction, a small exhale, almost like a surprised laugh under his breath. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, then wince at how fast that came out. “I mean—obviously. Look at you.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and you pause, already regretting it. For a second, nothing happens. Then Leon lets out a quiet laugh, an actual one, not just the polite kind he usually gives.

“‘Look at me,’ huh?” he echoes.

You groan, covering your face for a second. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

“No,” he says easily.

You peek at him through your fingers. He’s smiling, but there’s something else under it now. Something warmer and more interested. “…I’m glad you did,” he adds.

That makes your stomach flip, and you slowly lower your hands. The air between you feels different now, heavier and charged. Leon leans back a little, crossing his arms, but his gaze doesn’t leave you.

“So,” he says, tilting his head just a bit, “you baked too many cookies, dressed up, and came over… just for an excuse to see me.”

Your throat goes dry. “…Yeah.” 

Silence settled between you again as Leon studies you for a moment.

He tilts his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Well,” he murmurs, voice cutting through the quiet, “I guess I better make it worth your trouble.”

No fucking way.

You huff out a laugh, trying to hide the deep flush on your cheeks. “How do you plan on doing that?”  

His eyes darken slightly, amused, and he steps closer. One hand comes up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, then lingering on your cheek. You turn your face away, cheeks burning.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice low but teasing, “don’t look away from me now.”

“I’m not… I’m just…” You search the living room for a distraction. “Taking in the… architecture. It’s nice.”

Leon lets out a genuine laugh, the sound short and breathy. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You manage a small, awkward grin, shaking your head, “Hey… give me some credit, okay? It’s not easy coming up with a lie on the spot.”

Seeing the way your cheeks flush, Leon leans back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up with two fingers beneath your chin. “If it would make you more comfortable, then I’m as nervous as you are,” he murmurs softly.

You feel your eyes soften themselves, something Leon doesn’t miss. You reach out hesitantly, fingers gently wrapping around his hand.

 “Is it because…,” you let the sentence trail off, not wanting to make false assumptions. 

“I think you know why,” he says, voice quieter than you expected.  

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to close the distance between you. His gaze drops to your lips—so quickly you almost miss it. A beat passes. Maybe two. You don’t realize how much closer you’ve gotten until the tip of your nose lightly brushes against his. 

Before you can close the gap, Leon pulls back—just slightly. He exhales, unsteady, eyes closing as if he’s trying to think. He shakes his head once. Then he straightens.

“Fuck, I… I’m sorry Y/n, that was really out of line,” he says, a slight crack in his tone, lungs still breathless. 

Your face scrunches up in confusion, did you do something wrong?

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose, voice tight and jittery. “You’re… you’re young, and I… I shouldn’t be doing this.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “God, I wasn’t thinking.”

You stay seated a heartbeat longer, cheeks warm, fingers twisting in your lap. Slowly, you push off the couch, letting the cushions sigh behind you. You rise carefully, testing yourself as much as him.

Leon glances up, startled. His eyes flick between your face and your hands, catching the way your fingers brush the edge of your dress. His shoulders tighten, a quiet tension coursing through him.

You take a tiny step closer, almost instinctively letting your fingertips brush against the edge of his arm. “I… um,” you murmur, voice a little shaky. “I’m not a kid. I… I wanted this.”

Your lips twitch into a nervous, fleeting smile. “The cookies, the dress,” you let out a shaky exhale before proceeding, “I thought… maybe you’d like them.” The words are quiet, almost hesitant. 

Leon swallows hard, caught in between surprise and disbelief. He’s trying to process you, trying to understand. 

Seeing the confused look on his face, you let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I think you know why a girl would go out of her way…to do all this,” you say, glancing up at him. 

Feeling entirely too bold for your own good, you take his hand, placing it on your waist. “I know what I want Leon," you say, voice coming out lower than you intended. “But…if I misread this and you want nothing to do with me—then,” a shaky exhale falls from you. “Then I’ll leave.”

You couldn’t believe you just did that, not as someone who was never this direct. Either way, you weren’t going to waste any more of your time on someone who had no interest in you.

Leon blinks rapidly, his mouth falling open for a second before he snaps it shut. “I…” He trails off. “No—I… I do,” he admits, voice unsteady, though there’s a quiet certainty beneath it. He huffs out a breath of laughter, turning his head to the side. “God, I do want you. I want you so bad.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

“How could I not?” Leon’s voice is a low, tired rasp, and the grip on your waist finally firms up, pulling you flush against him. He huffs a short, dry laugh, his gaze dropping to your lips. “I’ve been trying not to want you, Y/N. Believe me. “But you’re… you’re genuine. Ambitious, kind, smart. You’ve got this energy I can’t even describe, and I’ve spent far too much time away thinking about it.” He shakes his head, his thumb grazing the skin just above your hip.

A small, almost shy smile tugs at your lips, and your heart skips a beat. You can feel the warmth of him pressed against you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet between you heavy but charged. You glance up, catching his gaze, and it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you.

Your fingers inch along his arm, tentative, lingering. He leans closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. You can feel your heartbeat in the quiet, each thump louder than the last.

Finally, you murmur, voice barely above a whisper: “Kiss me.”

Leon’s breath catches. His lips hover near yours for a heartbeat, then slowly, deliberately, he closes the gap. The first brush of his lips against yours was soft, uncertain, almost like neither of you could comprehend that this was actually happening.

His lips are soft, so much softer than you thought they would be. The roughness of his stubble grazes your cheek, sending chills straight down your spine. Leon takes your hands, brushing over them softly before guiding them to rest at his nape.

Your lips curve into a smile against his, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Leon coaxes your mouth open slowly with his tongue, a low groan slipping from him as he deepens the kiss. You sigh breathlessly, the taste of him intensifying and going straight to your head.

You slowly pull apart from the kiss, both a little breathless. Leon’s face is flushed, pupils blown so wide the blues of his irises are almost black.  

“I’m tired of standing,” you murmur, your bottom lip softening into a pout.

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice unsteady, hands tightening as he walks you back toward the couch.

As Leon takes a seat, you decide to be bolder, climbing into his lap. A rush of adrenaline tingles through your body. His eyes widen a fraction, surprised by your sudden boldness—like the kiss has knocked something loose in you.

You shift in his lap, tentative at first, until you find a position that feels right. His hands slide to your waist, warm and certain, and the small reassurance of it steadies your nerves. Your breath catches as your eyes drop to his lips again. This time, you don’t hesitate — you lean in, closing the space between you.

Leon’s grip on your waist is still there, and you feel it begin to grow tighter as the kiss deepens. You adjust your weight in his lap, and the small movement pulls a sharp hiss from him. You quickly bite back the soft moan that nearly escapes you.

His tongue teasingly traces your bottom lip, the action making your grip on his shirt tighten. Of their own accord, your thighs begin to move against Leon’s lap, slow and unsteady.  A low groan escapes him as his tongue nudges yours, parting your lips. Every brush of his tongue sends a jolt through you, heat pooling between your legs. 

A soft moan slips from you as your heat presses perfectly against his growing bulge. You grind against his thigh, the friction impossibly right. Leon gasps—really gasps—before his hands drift downward to your ass, gripping firmly and urging you on.

Without warning, Leon pulls back from your lips, his face flushed, lips tinged red. He holds your gaze, voice low and rough. “You sure you want to go further?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, cheeks warming, fingers twisting together. Your voice is quiet, a little shaky—but there’s a teasing edge. “I… I could do all the work… if you think you can keep up at your age.”

Your stomach tightens at your own boldness. You weren’t sure what you were getting yourself into. Leon looked… strong, capable, and completely unflinching, and just imagining what might come next makes your cheeks heat. Could you really keep up with him?

“Riiight,” he smirks, his gaze sharp. “Guess I’ll leave it to you then… ma’am.”

Your chest tightens. No, no! He was actually letting you take the lead? Oh… you were absolutely doomed.

A nervous cough escapes you, trying—and failing—to hide the quiver in your voice. “R-right then… buckle up, Leon” His terrible jokes were already rubbing off on you. Of course, Leon laughs, really laughs, and for a moment, his eyes crinkle at the corners, making him look younger, almost mischievous.

Leon rubs his hands against your upper thighs, eyes lidded. “If it’s fine with you… maybe we could go to my room?”

You bite your lip, heart skipping, and nod. “Yeah… let’s.”

He lifts you with ease, your thighs wrapping around his waist as your arms settle around his shoulders. Without breaking the moment, he turns and starts up the stairs, each step measured as he carries you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

With his foot, he nudges the bedroom door open and carries you inside. Your heart races, excitement bubbling through you. You hadn’t expected things to go this far, even though you’d worn the black lacy set in preparation–but now that they have, you’re not complaining.

Leon places you gently on the bed and takes a step back. His voice lowers, tinged with concern. “Last chance to back out… are you really su—”

Your cheeks heat, heart hammering. You bite your lip, words catching in your throat… then the need bursts out before you can stop it. “Leon… if you don’t—fuck me—right now… I swear I’ll die from frustration,” you whisper, voice trembling, almost pleading.

Leon huffs out a laugh at your boldness, the side of his mouth curving up into a slight smirk, “Demanding, are we?”

Growing increasingly impatient, you toy with the neckline of your dress,  just enough to hint at the curve of your chest. Leon gulps, his eyes dropping to the flash of black lace peeking out from beneath the fabric. He steps closer, large hands settling on your waist, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles against your skin.

“Can I?” he murmurs. 

You felt your face getting hot as you nodded and whispered back, “Yeah.”

His thumb drifts to the slit of your dress, tracing the smooth skin of your upper thigh. You bite back a soft mewl as his fingers gather the fabric, inching it slowly higher. Your breath catches as the material slides up, revealing more than it did before.

Finally tugging the dress over your head, his eyes rake over you, blue melting into molten as they take in the lacy black set you chose to wear.  He leans in, curling a finger under your chin to tilt your face up. “You really had this planned out, huh?” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Your cheeks heat, and you press your hands to your face. “Stop…”

Leon reaches for your hands, lowering them gently. “Hey, hey… none of that,” he says softly, fingers brushing over yours. “There’s nothing to be shy about. I… really appreciate the effort.”

Something in your chest eases, a warmth spreading through you as your nerves settle slightly. Leon steps back, gaze steady on you as he pulls the navy shirt over his head. 

Your eyes widen as you catch sight of him shirtless. You’d known he was big—his skin-tight shirts had done nothing to hide it—but seeing him like this… your gaze lingers on the solid expanse of his chest, shoulders, and arms, every inch impossibly thick and muscular.

Leon’s voice cuts through your ogling, “Why don’t you take a picture?”

The corny joke pulled out a breathy laugh from you, “You can’t be real,” you murmur, shaking your head.

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s pleased with himself. He leans in slowly this time, giving you a second to react, to pull away. You don’t.

His hands find your thighs, warm and steady, and when he kisses you again, it’s firmer—less teasing, more intent. The kiss deepens quickly, his tongue tracing your bottom lip. You part your lips without resistance, letting him in, a soft sound slipping from the back of your throat.

His thumbs press lightly against your abdomen, tracing a slow path upward toward your sternum. A soft, involuntary moan slips from your mouth, and his fingers linger there for a heartbeat, as if memorizing the curve of your body—before they begin to drift downward again, gliding over the gentle slope of your waist. They move lower, thighs clenching when his fingers brush against the delicate lace of your underwear.

Leon breaks away from the kiss, eyes filled with concern, “You ok?”

You catch your breath as he pulls back, heart racing. “Yeah… yeah, I just… haven’t done this in a while, and… I guess I’m just… more sensitive,” you breathe out, words trembling slightly.

He lets out a short laugh, eyes softening, “Yeah… uh, same here.”

You slowly release the tension in your thighs, letting your legs fall into a more open, relaxed position. Leon’s gaze drifts lower, catching on to the wet patch on your panties. He groans–quiet but hoarse, “Fuck you’re soaking.”

Then, his hand slides into your underwear, fingers feathering across your mound. A broken whimper falls from your lips, pussy clenching around nothing at all. Leon’s fingers move to your slit, slowly circling your entrance. The delicate trace has you shifting restlessly beneath him, desperate for more. 

And then, after what feels like forever, he drags a single finger between your folds. It's just one finger, but it feels more than it should, your jaw unlocking and falling wide open.

You arch helplessly into his hand, chasing more. A sharp gasp escapes you as he adds a second finger, the stretch making your thighs quiver uncontrollably. 

He settles into a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with slow, measured circles.

“Oh fuck… Leon.”A low moan breaks from you, your toes curling against the sheets.

You shove your face into the sheets, hips jerking forward as he curls his fingers through your fluttering walls. Leon watches your face closely, noting every subtle reaction. 

“That’s the spot?” He whispers, voice strained. 

You nod against the sheets, feeling your vision going hazy at the edges. A loud, frantic moan slips past your teeth as his thumb speeds over your clit, the pressure just right. Immediately, your hand covers your mouth, attempting to bury any more moans that threaten to spill out. 

“I want to hear you,” he says, his voice low and rough, “Let me hear you.”

Slowly, you lower your hand, resting it against your upper chest. His fingers plunge in and out of you, the pace quickening as he leans in. “Yeah… that’s a good girl,” he coos.

You clench hard around his fingers at the praise, a sharp gasp escaping. “Oh god, Leon—”

Leon’s eyebrows arch, his head tilting with a smirk. “You like that, huh?”

Your breath hitches, a sharp, ragged sound catching in your throat as the friction becomes too much. 

“Leon... I’m—I’m close,” you say hoarsely, legs shaking uncontrollably as you near your edge. 

Leon looks down at you, his gaze dark and feral. “Yeah?” he goads, his pace turning ruthless, “Then don’t you dare hold back for me.”

All you can do is nod, eyes glittered with tears that threaten to spill over your lashes. 

“Fuck! ‘Im gonna cum,” you whine pathetically, hardly breathing at this point. “Leon–oh god, m’ gonna–” you cry out, every thought burned away by the raw friction of his fingers.

“I know, I know,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m right here. Do it for me, sweetheart.” He maintains a punishingly perfect pace that leaves no room for air.

Without warning, the sensation tips over the edge. Your breath dies in your throat as your cunt seizes around his hand. Everything goes white, your eyes stinging and wet. 

Your back finally rests against the bed, chest heaving in a ragged rhythm. Leon tracks your shallow breaths, his gaze softening at your exhaustion. With agonizing slowness, he uncurls his nimble fingers and slides them from your slick, aching heat. A tiny, broken gasp leaves your lips as he retreats.

He leans over you, his thumb brushing away the stray strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead. “Good job,” he whispers, his voice a low, grounding rumble.

Usually, you’d flush and hide, but the intensity has left you with a daring, heavy-lidded buzz. Instead of shrinking away, you shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. The movement is slow, intentional, and entirely uncharacteristic of your usual shyness.

“Said I was gonna do all the work, right?” you whisper, your voice dropping into a sultry, confident edge as you look him dead in the eye. You offer him a playful, challenging smirk. “So lay back down, old man.”

Leon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Alright, ma’am,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as he plays along.

He settles back against the mattress, lacing his fingers behind his head to give you the floor. He looks entirely too comfortable, his gaze fixed on you with a heavy, hooded sort of expectation—like he’s just waiting to see if you can actually back up the talk.

Smug bastard.

“Ready when you are,” he groans, the corner of his lip twitching up into a lazy, lopsided smirk.

Oh, you are definitely going to wipe that look off his face.

Slowly, you push off your elbows, your weight shifting as you crawl over him until you're straddling his abdomen. You settle there, staying just high enough to keep him waiting.

Leon’s eyes go dark, his breath hitching as you press down against the hard ridges of his abs. You reach back, the muscles of your arms tensing as you fumble with the clasp of your bra.

The moment the metal clicks, the air leaves Leon’s lungs in a low, shaky exhale. The smugness finally fractures, his jaw tightening as he stares up at you, his composure stripped away as your bra falls from your chest.

His gaze drops from your face, tracking the movement with a heavy, unblinking focus, his mouth hanging open slightly as any witty retorts are seemingly scorched from his mind. “Fuck... you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers, his voice strained and barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Your neck flushes at the compliment—as if he’s one to talk. Leon’s hands slide down your sides to find your waist, his grip firm as his fingers drift lower, grazing the edge of your lace.

You slightly lift your hips up, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. With a slow, deliberate motion, you slide them down your legs, leaving a faint, shimmering trail of wetness clinging to the soft fabric.

You’re fully naked above him, skin gleaming in the dim light. Leon doesn’t know where to fix his gaze—your face, the curve of your chest, or the heat where your mound presses against his abs. He looks utterly entranced, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. Your fingers drift down to toy with the waistband of his jeans, a silent question in your touch.

"Can I?" you whisper.

He nods, his breath hitching in anticipation.

You make quick work of the zipper on his jeans. You’re impatient as you unbutton them and shove the denim down, leaving him in nothing but boxers. You swallow hard; you’d felt how big he was, but seeing the heavy bulge up close like this sends a fresh spike of heat through you.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and peel them away, dragging them down his legs with excruciating slowness. You toss them aside, and your gaze remains fixed, eyes immediately locked on his cock. The air between you goes heavy as you take him in, every inch of him finally exposed.

You swallow, blinking dazedly as you take in the length and thickness. It’s huge. The tip is flushed dark, already leaking slightly. It’s rock solid, twitching with every breath he takes. You don’t think your hand could even close all the way around it. 

You cough, a desperate attempt to swallow your obvious fluster. “Wow, can still get it up, old man?” you say, feigning confidence—yet your voice lacks any real stability.

Leon chuckles, low and dark, “You’re bluffing.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, thighs squeezing firmly around his hips to regain control. “Whatever, just—put it in,” you scoffed, trying to hide the fact that your heart was racing.

“Change of plans? I thought you were gonna handle this part yourself,” he drawls, mocking you with that lazy, arrogant smirk.

Your eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine then,” you challenge.

You reach down to circle the base of his length; the sudden contact makes him twitch, reacting instinctively to your grip. Slowly, your hand slides along his shaft, grip tightening slightly. Leon’s hips jerk up into your palm, a low groan escaping him at the weight of your touch.

Suddenly, you bite your lip, the heat in the room momentarily chilled by a realization. "Leon, wait," you whisper, your movements faltering. "I just realized… do you have protection?

Leon doesn't even blink. He just reaches out, his large hand covering yours for a brief second before gesturing blindly toward the mahogany nightstand. "Top drawer," he rasps, his voice a low, rough command. "Back corner."

You pause, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you reach over and slide the heavy drawer open. You have to push aside a fountain pen and a stack of printed documents just to find the small, foil square.

The wrapper glints under the dim light as you catch the edge between your teeth; with a sharp tug, you tear it open and spit the scrap of foil aside, your eyes locked onto his the entire time.

You place the condom against the head of his cock, still flushed and leaking. With careful movements, you slowly roll it down the length of him. Your fingers faintly brush against the soft skin on the base of his cock, and leon hisses through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening. 

You rise up on your knees, reaching between you to grab his cock. Carefully, you guide him to your entrance, thighs spread wider in hopes that you can accommodate his size. The leaking head of his cock meets your soaked slit, and it’s electric. 

Finally, you start descending on him. The head of his cock pushes past your entrance, and the second it slips past your folds, you let out a muffled gasp. There’s no way he was going to fit. 

“Leon,” you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as you lower yourself further. 

Leon’s warm hands rub against the soft skin of your waist. “Easy, baby... take your time,” Leon says, his voice thick and strained.

You bite at your lip, thighs quivering as you lower inch after inch, your wetness making it easier to adjust to his length. You let out a ragged gasp as you finally take all of him, walls fluttering uncontrollably around his cock.

“F-fuck... don’t do that if you want me to last,” he says, his voice strained and desperate as he grips your hips.

You stay still for a few seconds, breath catching as you look down at where you’re connected. The sight is visceral, almost sinful.

Leon’s hands are steady on your waist, but his knuckles are white. He’s watching you with a heavy, hooded gaze. "There you go," he rasps, his voice strained as he tries to keep his own breathing under control. "Just breathe, baby. I've got you."

Slowly, you sink back up, the friction a slow burn that makes your head spin, before you slide all the way down again. The moan you let out is raw, and it hits Leon like a physical blow. His eyes snap shut and his head thumps back against the pillow, a wrecked "Fuck..." escaping his lips.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his fingers digging slightly into your hips to keep himself from bucking up. “Keep that pace... just like that.”

You start to grind against him, a slow, heavy rotation. Your breasts move with the rhythm, and Leon opens his eyes, looking completely hypnotized. His hands leave your waist to grope them, his palms heavy and hot as he squeezes, his thumbs catching your nipples with every downward move.

"Look at you," he rasps, his composure starting to fray as he watches you work. "You're perfect."

Your head tilts back, your throat exposed as the pleasure starts to override his instructions. Your pace increases instinctively, the slow grind turning into a frantic, driving heat. Leon doesn't stop you anymore; he just grips your chest tighter, his breath coming in ragged, desperate hitches as he watches you take control.

Then, your legs give out. The muscles in your thighs begin to shake violently, and your movements turn sloppy. The burn becomes too much to handle, forcing you to a shaky, frustrated stop. You slump against him, your legs still twitching from the effort.

"Leon," you pant, "I—I can’t. My legs..."

Leon tries to smirk, but it’s more of a strained pull of his lips, his face flushed and damp with sweat. “Thought... thought you said you were going to do... all the work, baby,” he teases, the words coming out in short, breathless hitches.

You pout at him, your own exhaustion making your eyes watery, and Leon saves you the embarrassment of trying to continue. He lets out a low, shaky exhale, his grip on your hips tightening as he takes over. He begins moving you again, his movements heavy and uncoordinated but determined.

Suddenly, he grunts, using the last of his strength to hook an arm around your waist. He flips y’all on the bed, the world blurring until your body is splayed out beneath him. He collapses into the space between your thighs, his arms shaking as he props himself up. His eyes are dark, completely blown out as he looks down at you, and he begins to move inside you with a desperate, driving force that tells you he’s just as close to the edge as you are.

The new position made you feel him even deeper inside you. Your pussy pulsed around him while he drove his hips forward in a faster, more urgent rhythm.

“Leon–Leon, Leon, Leon!” your voice is gone, barely recognisable as yours. 

“Jesus, sweetheart—” he groans, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “You’re tight as fuck. God.”

The walls of your pussy clamp down, forcing a loud, guttural groan from him.

Leon lets out a breathless, wrecked laugh against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Fuck, you really don’t want me to last, do you? You’re trying to ruin me.”

He lets out a sinful, low-bellied groan when you shift just right, the vibration of it making your pussy clench hard in response. You don't let up—you do it again, clamping down on his cock with everything you’ve got, forcing a raw, unfiltered moan out of him that echoes in your ear.

“You’re evil,” he chuckles breathlessly, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he sucks a bruise into your skin. “Taking every fucking inch of me and still asking for more.”

His hips drive upward in a faster, more desperate rhythm, chasing the friction that’s coiling tighter and tighter in your gut. “Leon, m’ gonna—m’ gonna cum, I’m—"

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers, his voice strained and thick with his own need as he catches your frantic rhythm. “Just like that. Take it all. Come for me.”

A few more heavy, wet strokes and you finally come undone, your walls spasming around him in a breathless, shaking mess. Leon follows only seconds later, a low growl ripping from his throat as he thrusts deep one last time, his body locking up as he spends himself, buried as far as he can go.

He stays buried inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as his breathing comes in heavy, ragged hitches. The room is silent except for the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.

Eventually, the stillness breaks as he shifts his weight, easing up on his elbows just enough to look at you.

You swallow, then murmur, “T-that was…” your voice still a little airy.

“I know,” he murmurs, a faint huff of breath following the words.

Leon pushes himself up from your body, his movements slow and deliberate. “Need to clean you up,” he says, though his eyes haven't quite lost their heat.

As he stands, the sudden chill makes you bold, and you can’t resist teasing him one more time. “I was hoping for round two,” you say, letting your gaze linger, “but then I remembered you’re…”

The challenge was a delightful one. A kind of excitement neither of you had been able to experience for months. Almost a year, come spring.

At first, that time a part didn’t seem too bad.

A marriage of nearly two decades meant that you had rhythms and routines; patterns that were so very easy to fall into the second you got each other alone.

Before the syndrome had even reared its head, you were near-insatiable. How could you not be?

Having worked alongside each other since The Incident meant that you got to see each other grow. You evolved into better versions of yourselves, and embraced the parts you had always liked.

Being that close, that involved, also taught you both to welcome whatever opportunities you could. Whether that was getting each other off in the bathroom of a lonely rest stop, or in the comfort of your home.

Of course, once those black marks decided to finally make themselves known, your bodies had naturally begun to slow.

Sure, you were both getting older…

Leon now needed prescriptions, and his shoulders had gotten a lot stiffer—though that wasn’t to your surprise really because he’d always had bad posture. But you too had been feeling the effects of age. Your mornings were now spent massaging your sore joints, and chiropractor visits had become a near-weekly occurrence.

All of these things you could navigate, but the syndrome wasn’t as forgiving.

So like with everything else in your shared life, you adapted. With some trials and a few errors, you learned to appreciate each other in new ways, reaching crevices of your relationship you would never known possible.

Through a certain lens, it was actually a rather beautiful thing.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t inexplicably horny.

So when Grace cured you both, after all was said-and-done and DSO had, more or less, cleared you, it didn’t come as a shock that you both had only one thing in mind.

Leon had enough restraint—or decency, depending on how you looked at it—to wait until you were both in the car before doing anything.

But just as you encroached on the outskirts of Raccoon City’s ruins, a large hand found its home on your thigh.

Leon’s grip was firm and warm—a kind of heat that not even thick denim could resist. It had you shifting in place, leaning farther into the leather seat, and subtly trying to spread your legs more.

Eventually his thumb started to trace lazy, albeit soothing circles into the flesh. Then suddenly the button of your jeans had come undone, and your husband’s thick fingers were slipping past the waistband of your underwear in search of your puffy clit.

You don’t think you’ve ever come faster in your life.

With a few more excruciating miles still between you and home, Leon was silent as he moved the Porsche between the congested lanes of the highway. He ended up taking the closest exit (where it even led to, you still don’t know) and drove until he spotted the gravel lot of a small abandoned gas-station.

You were pulling him into the back before he could even unbuckle himself.

You rode him harshly. Sloppy and uneven—not that it mattered in the slightest. With his hands on your face, holding you close as he flexed his thighs beneath you, it didn’t take long for you to come again. And it took even less time for him to spill into you with a breathy grunt.

When you did finally make it home, after what felt like hours, you were practically wrestling him through the front door.

Pressed between the wall and his hard body, Leon took you in the foyer—right next to the shoe-rack, and the small table where you usually kept your keys.

Trying to recall the night before was like listening to a skipping record. Your memory consisted of flashing images, of sounds you hadn’t heard in so long, of ice-blue eyes and the feeling of stubble against your chest.

You certainly remembered the next morning though.

You were awake first. While Leon slept, you took the time to stretch out your spine and massage your aching wrists. At some point, you missed Leon stirring. You missed his soft hum, and the mattress dip.

He was the first to kiss you—a soft peck to your shoulder while he pulled you back into his lap.

“Just wanna rest today,” was his excuse.

It’s what he kept telling you as he rolled you both over, as he sucked at the hollow of your throat, as he took your nipple into his mouth. “We deserve this.”

His hands were everywhere—hooking your legs over his shoulders, sliding up your stomach to your breasts and back down again. Then, with his face inches from your dripping pussy, he searched for your eyes. “Ain’t that right, pretty girl? You deserve this.”

He then pressed a teasing kiss to your mound, and you whined—all high-pitched and pathetic. Leon simply laughed.

“Yeah. My beautiful wife—“ he mouthed at your folds “—deserves whatever she wants.”

Leon ended up pulling a climax or two out of you. Though you’re certain if you hadn’t been the one to set the boundary, to pull him back up your body with promises of returning the favour, he would’ve gladly stayed between your legs the whole day.

It went on like that for hours. From him lapping at your release, to you teasing his annoyingly pretty cock with your throat.

A constant, mind-numbing, breath-taking push-and-pull.

Getting to be with him again meant everything to you. But you had thought that was the end.

Not of your sex-life, but of the reunion.

In your wildest fantasies—those that belonged to a version of you who knew nothing of Elpis—you had envisioned it: physically coming back together. With the threat of death, you’d hoped—desperately wanted—to feel him like that again, if only once more.

And by some insane stroke of luck, your wish came true.

You got what you wanted, and then some.

And you were grateful. Really, you were.

But as Leon pounded you from behind, you were starting to realize that maybe you hadn’t been prepared at all.

You felt good. Really, really good. Fucking amazing, even.

And it was almost too much.

Everything that happened over the course of the weekend was coming to a head.

It was climbing the peak right alongside another orgasm, and you weren’t sure if you could handle the fallout.

Leon slams his hips into yours again.

You nearly collapse onto the sink, eyes rolling back as your toes curl.

With Leon’s relentless cock bullying your walls, you feel a heavy pressure blooming between your hips. Mewling, you push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know.” Leon grunts behind you.

Leon, who you know has been watching you carefully, readjusts his grip then. Wrapping one arm around your shoulders and the other across your hips, he tugs you back into him.

Your jaw goes slack at the new angle. His cock presses deep—deeper in a way that immediately has you squirming.

“Hey, look at me.” Leon’s eyes are blown wide, almost pitch-black. He’s always had an intense stare, but this time it’s lethal.

It takes everything in you to keep your eyes open.

“I love you, you know that?” Your knees buckle. “Seriously. I”—another thrust —“I know I don’t say it—shit—a lot…” he shoves his head into yours with a growl. “But I do. Fuck, I do.”

With his arm—that goddamn bicep that makes your mouth-water and your cunt flutter—Leon reorients your attention back to the mirror. Through half-lidded eyes, you study the hard set of his jaw.

“Look at yourself,” he groans.

You grab onto his arm and squeeze—the only response you can manage at this point that isn’t a sob.

“You’re fuckin’—agh—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

You nod, helpless, feeling your lashes grow heavy with tears.

Your pelvis is screaming from the friction, and your spine feels as if it’s going to snap at any moment.

Everything in you is begging for release.

But you’re selfish, and perhaps, a bit masochistic.

Because Leon—your husband, the love of your life—is purring praise after praise into your ear.

And you’re preening, practically gushing all over your old man.

All you want is to give him every ounce of your attention, of your self, and your arousal. But every thrust makes it harder not to let yourself go.

“Feel you squeezin’ me, baby,” he pants. “So-shit, so tight.”

Tears slip down your cheeks then. You have half a mind to care, but the other half is shameless. Even with how you crane your neck up to him, to meet his eyes, to put yourself on full display for him.

Leon tightens against you—in you. He swallows hard. “D-Does it feel that good? Does—agh—does my cock make my pretty wife wanna cry?”

Your mouth falls open with a babble, and suddenly all the sounds you had been suppressing come out tenfold.

“Ah, fuck.” Leon grits his teeth.

He’s flush against you now. The sheer size of him is overwhelming.

“Want you to make a mess on my cock, baby. C’mon. I—oh, fuck me.” His arms strain, caging you into him even tighter. “Need you to come, pretty girl. Need—shit. Need you to let go f’me. …I got you. I got you.”

When you finally come, Leon falls back into the wall, keeping you still as he works through his own orgasm. He groans and pants in your ear, while you tremble and claw at his arm.

You’re both left a complete mess. Sensitive, unable to speak or move much.