When Coffee Isn't Enough - Leon S. Kennedy/Female Reader
The doorbell rings of the coffee shop where you work, and you turn your attention to the familiar man who entered. You feel your cheeks warm up a bit. He was attractive, tall and had those beautiful blue eyes that you had a weakness for.
You were happy, to say the least, whenever he visited the coffee shop.
“Hey, Leon,” you greet. “What can I get you?”
He put his arms on the counter, looking up at the menu for a moment as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
“Can I get a… large black coffee and a muffin?”
Leon taps his fingers lightly on the counter while waiting, glancing around before his gaze settles back on you. A playful smirk tugs at his lips.
“You know, I think I’m becoming addicted to this place… or maybe just the service. What’s your secret ingredient?”
“You’re too charming for your good, Leon,” you tease back, preparing his coffee and muffin as he grins. “And my secret ingredient? It’s called dedication to customer service.”
“Dedication, huh? That’s funny…” He pauses to take the steaming cup from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours just slightly longer than necessary.
“...Beacuse I come here for the coffee, but I stay for the cute barista.” His smirk deepens as he pulls back, clearly enjoying watching you react to his boldness today.
“You know,” he muses, tapping a finger against his cup, “if my lieutenant knew how often I ‘patrol’ this block, he’d probably reassign me.” A playful shrug. “But I figure… keeping an eye on local businesses is part of community policing, right?”
The thought of Leon making an excuse just to visit you more often made your heart flutter, though you knew better than to let it get to your head.
“Oh, now you're using your position to justify your sweet tooth?” you joke. “Careful, Officer Kennedy, or I might start thinking you have a secret sugar addiction.”
“A secret sugar addiction? Me?” He takes another sip of his coffee, enjoying the banter between you. “I have a highly disciplined metabolism. Besides… there’s something much sweeter around here that interests me more than caffeine.”
As Leon’s fellow officer wolf-whistles, you feel a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment. Leon’s reaction is priceless, his ears going pink as he tries to maintain composure.
“Anyway,” he says loudly. “I should probably…” He gestures toward his squadmates before catching your eye again. “See you tomorrow?”
You nod understandingly. “See you tomorrow, Leon.” You manage to say. “I’ll have the best pastries ready for you.”
Leon’s friends call for him from their table, and he shoots them a mock glare before looking back at you with a lopsided smile.
“You know how to bribe a cop,” he teases, draining the last of his coffee. “Good thing I have a weakness for sugar.”
With one last glance at you, he reluctantly turns away to join his friends. You allow yourself a small sigh, unable to deny the effect Leon had on you. The thought of seeing him again the next day put a little more pep in your step.
“Until tomorrow, Officer Sugar-Addicted,” you murmur softly, picking up another order.
The next day you can’t help the small smile that appears when Leon returns with an air of false bravado. You know him well enough by now to see through his attempts to appear nonchalant.
When he says he wants another coffee and a scone, you nod, already preparing the items.
You glance up and see his friends sitting at their usual table looking on curiously, clearly finding this all amusing.
Leon’s jaw tenses as he realizes you’ve noticed his friends’ amused stares.
“Between us? They’re just jealous because I’m the only one who gets personalized service.”
You slide his filled cup and scone across the counter, giving him a knowing smile. “They certainly seem to be keeping a close eye on you.”
You keep your tone light, though inside you’re practically swooning. To think this handsome police officer has a crush on you of all people filled you with quiet giddiness.
Leon picks up the cup and the scone, making a show of slowly taking a sip as he glances back at his friends.
He hesitates for a second, fiddling with the lid of the cup. “Can I ask you something?”
You nod your head.
Leon exhales through his nose. “Just when you get off work.” He gestures vaguely toward the door. “Thought I’d walk you home or something.” A beat passes before he adds hastily. “You know – police protocol. Making sure employees don’t wander into dark alleys alone.”
Your smile turns affectionate at his awkward offer. Of course, he would use his position as an excuse to walk you home. Typical Leon, but endearing nonetheless.
“How chivalrous of you, Officer Kennedy,” you tease. “Protecting me from the perils of an evening walk.”
You’re tempted to make him squirm for a bit longer, but the hopeful look in his eyes makes your heart flutter. “I’d like that,” you admit honestly. “I get off in half an hour.”
Leon lets out a silent sigh of relief when you agree, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Right, uh, half an hour. I’ll just… hang around until then.”
His attempt to play it cool is both endearing and amusing, and you catch yourself stealing glances at him as you continue serving customers. The way he keeps checking his watch and shifting his weight from foot to foot gives away his nervous excitement.
Time seems to pass both excruciatingly slowly and far too quickly, until it’s finally time for your shift to end and you say goodbye to your coworkers. You grab your bag from the staff room and step out to find Leon still waiting by the wall, looking a bit like a lost puppy.
Leon straightens up instantly when he notices you, shoving his hands in his pockets like that’ll make him seem more composed. “Took you long enough,” he jokes weakly, nodding toward the door.
The second you step outside with him, a chorus of catcalls erupt from inside the coffee shop – clearly some of your coworkers were watching too. Leon’s face burns red as he grabs your hand without thinking and starts speed-walking down the street to escape their teasing.
“...Let’s just go.”
Your heart does a little flip when Leon takes your hand and starts walking quickly away from the coffee shop. You can still hear your coworkers playful catcalls from inside, and it takes all your will to bite back a giggle.
You look over at Leon, suppressing a grin. “In a hurry, are we?” you tease gently, trying not to enjoy the warmth of his hand in yours.
Leon’s ears grow pink again, and he glances down at your entwined hands for a second before clearing his throat. “Just trying to avoid the peanut gallery.”
He keeps a brisk pace, but his thumb absently brushes over your knuckles a couple of times as he looks straight ahead. The contact sends a little spark up his spine.
Leon slows his steps when he realizes he hasn’t let go of your hand yet – not that he particularly wants to. The evening air is cool against his flushed face as he glances sideways at you, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“You, uh…” He gestures vaguely at your joined hands with his free one, suddenly unsure if he’s overstepped. “Is this okay?”
His fingers twitch slightly against yours, warm and rough from handling firearms – but the way they cradle your hand is unexpectedly gentle.
The unexpected vulnerability in Leon’s question makes your heart twist a bit, and you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine,” you assure him, your tone softer now. “I don’t mind.”
Leon relaxes visibly, the tenseness leaving his shoulders. He gives you a small, grateful smile, his thumb once again tracing that little pattern on the back of your hand.
“Good,” he mutters gruffly, pretending to be focused on the street ahead as he hides the redness creeping up his neck. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”
The rhythmic motion of Leon’s thumb against the back of your hand is both soothing and distracting. It’s hard to focus on anything else when the man you’ve been secretly pining after for months is walking you home, holding your hand, and looking like a puppy who’s just been tossed a treat.
The gentle pressure from his calloused fingers keeps you grounded, though, reminding you this is real and not some wishful daydream.
As you approach your apartment complex, you decide to take a chance. “Leon?”
Leon’s eyes flickered to you when you called his name, an involuntary response at this point. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice quiet.
His fingers gave yours a squeeze, unconsciously trying to prolong the contact. He wasn’t ready for this walk to end, not when he was finally alone with you after months of stolen glances and subtle pining. But now you were approaching your apartment building, and he would have to say goodbye soon.
He pushed that thought away, meeting your gaze with a crooked smile.
You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. You didn’t want this moment to end either, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go unsaid.
“Can I ask you something… a bit…personal?”
You stop walking a respectful distance from your building, turning to face Leon. He looks slightly confused, but he follows your lead, stepping closer with a curious tilt of his head.
His eyes search your face, the soft streetlights casting shadows across his features. “What is it?” he murmurs.
The intensity of Leon’s gaze makes your heart flutter, but you push through the nerves. This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for.
You take another steadying breath, meeting his gaze directly and trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I wanted to ask…”
You pause, the next words sticking in your throat. But Leon is looking at you so intently, his eyes so warm and soft, that you find the courage to finally spit it out.
“I wanted to ask you why you… have never asked me out.”
Leon’s heart skips a beat as your question hangs in the air, his eyes widening slighting. He hadn’t been expecting that, but in hindsight, he should have. It has been half a year since he started visiting the coffee shop, after all.
His first instinct is to deflect, make a witty retort to dodge the question. But the earnest look in your eyes stops him. You want a real answer – not some flippant excuse.
For once, he can’t think of something clever to say. So he settles for the truth. “I was… scared.”
“Scared?” you echo, a little surprised. That wasn’t the response you’d been expecting. Leon Kennedy, scared? It seemed hard to believe, given his confident demeanor and experience as a cop.
But the vulnerability in his voice and the way he looks down, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jacket sleeve, tell a different story.
Your heart melts for this man who’s suddenly unguarded, and you soften your tone. “Of what?”
“Scared I’d mess it up,” he admits quietly, voice rougher than usual. “That I’d say the wrong thing or… fuck up my schedule and stand you up or something.”
His jaw works for a second before he forces himself to meet your eyes again, blue irises surprisingly earnest in the dim light. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
The confession hangs between you, raw and startlingly honest from a man who usually hides behind sarcasm and police protocols.
You feel a lump form in your throat, the depth of honesty in Leon’s words surprising and touching you. He’d been holding back this entire time, afraid of making a mistake that would disappoint you?
It’s hard to wrap your head around. Here he is, a brave, handsome man, and he’s been insecure the whole time?
Without thinking, you reach up and gently cup his cheek with one hand. “Leon,” you murmur, the tender gesture saying more than your words ever could. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”
“Yeah?” His voice cracks on the single syllable, so he clears his throat and tries again, quieter this time. “That’s… good to know.”
A hesitant smile tugs at his lips as he turns his face just enough to press a kiss to your wrist – quick, barely there, but deliberate. His heartbeat thrums wildly against his ribs when he pulls back slightly to search your expression, waiting for permission to close the last inch between you.
His touch is as subtle as it is electrifying – a warm spark shooting through you, making your breaths come a little faster. Leon’s hopeful face makes you melt, all his walls suddenly down for the first time. He wants this. This confident, sarcastic cop with a heart that’s scared to get hurt wants you.
Slowly, almost too gently, you slide your hand into his hair and guide him in, closing the gap between you with one soft press of your lips to his.
The second your mouth touches his, Leon responds instantly as if on autopilot, pressing you back against a nearby wall. One hand cradles your face hungrily, while the other slides around your waist and grips at your hip. He groans against your lips.
There’s an urgent need in his fingers that leaves your head spinning, the possessive press of his body pinning you in place against the wall. You whimper softly as your hands wind into his hair, nails scratching slightly at his skin.
His mouth is hot and sweet, lips tasting faintly of coffee and something indescribably him, addictive in the way he steals the very air from your lungs.
Leon pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he pants. His blue eyes are darkened with want, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you – lips still hovering close enough to brush yours when he speaks, voice rough and wrecked.
“Fuck. I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”
One hand lifts to cradle your jaw, thumb swiping over kiss-swollen bottom lip as he exhales shakily. “Tell me you’ve wanted this too,” he murmurs, the words half-plea, half-demand. “Please.”
You nod frantically, breathless and shivering slightly as your pulse races faster with his thumb against your mouth.
“God, yes.” You say, bringing a hand up to press over his heart. “You have no idea… I–”
He’s kissing you again before you can finish speaking, drowning you in a sudden wave of heat and urgency. You moan as his hand tightens at your hip, pulling you taut against the hard lines of his body as he pins you against the wall, a desperate edge to it that leaves you breathless and dizzy.
Leon groans your name against your mouth as he presses impossibly closer, his tongue tracing your bottom lip as if he’s trying to commit every millimeter to memory. He kisses you like he’s starving, and desperate.
You can feel his fingers shaking with barely-restrained control as they pull the hem of your shirt free from your jeans, sliding under the edge to graze your ribs. He’s trying to hold back, trying to be careful with you, but the desire in his touch is tangible.
You moan against his mouth, hips arching against his as a familiar heat pools low in your belly. You can feel how hard he is, grinding lightly against you, and the thought makes your head spin.
Leon pulls back abruptly, his chest heaving as he presses his forehead against yours. His breathing is ragged, fingers still tangled in your clothes like he can’t bear to let go completely.
“Your place or mine?” he rasps, thumb tracing your swollen bottom lip again as he waits for your answer.
Both of you are clearly struggling to keep your hands to yourselves, and the knowledge that he’s just as turned on as you are only feeds the heat blazing beneath your skin.
When you find your voice, it comes out slightly breathless. “My place, obviously.”
His eyes darken further, a growl ripping out of him as his grip on your waist tightens before reluctantly letting go. He takes a step back, offering his hand.
“C’mon.”
Leon intertwined his fingers with yours as you lead him toward your apartment, the short walk feeling impossibly long with how badly he wants to get you alone. His thumb rubs absent circles against your knuckles – partly to soothe his own nerves, partly because he can’t seem to stop touching you now that he’s allowed.
The second your door closes behind you, he pins you against it with a desperate kiss, hands roaming your body like he’s memorizing every curve. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your lips, voice rough with need. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”
Leon exhales sharply when you tug him closer, his lips crashing into yours again with renewed hunger. He stumbles forward until your back hits the nearest surface – a wall, the couch, he doesn’t care – his body pressing flush against yours as his mouth works feverishly over yours.
One hand slides up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just as his tongue sweeps past your lips with a groan. The other grips your thigh, hiking it around his hip as he grinds against you, the friction drawing a broken sound from his throat.
“Fuck,” he gasps bewteen kissess, teeth grazing your bottom lip. “Should’ve done this months ago.
You can feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans.
“God, Leon,” you breathe, nails digging into his shoulders. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
The need you feel for him is overwhelming. “Bedroom.”
You can practically see the way Leon’s eyes go dark with heated anticipation when you utter that word, the corners of his mouth curving into a dangerous smirk.
He doesn’t respond, just scoops you up with one fluid motion – your legs hooking instinctively around his waist as he hoists you against him.
Leon’s lips find the hollow of your jaw as he carries you toward your bedroom, biting down hard enough to bruise before soothing the tender skin with his tongue.
Leon is strong, you realize rather suddenly, the way he carries you with one arm like you weigh nothing. He kicks the door shut behind him in a frantic motion, tossing you down on the bed. You bounce once – twice – before Leon is back on you, pinning you against the mattress with a knee shoved between your thighs.
His body is solid and heavy where he braces himself above you, blue eyes locked onto yours. He pulls off your shirt and tosses the fabric into some corner of the bedroom.
“You look gorgeous, baby,” he murmurs. His fingers trace the newly exposed skin, making you shiver.
One hand slips down your body, fingers skimming the edge of your pants in a silent question. “Please,” you find yourself begging. “I need you, Leon, please touch me.”
Leon lets out a strangled groan, his body tensing up. He can feel his last shred of self-control slipping away, the pleading in your voice making him shudder.
“You’re going to be the goddamn death of me,” he moans, fingers slipping beneath the band of your pants. He stares down at you, blue eyes dark with want, seeking permission. “Fuck, sweetheart, can I – ?”
You nod, and with a growl Leon hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and yanks them down, tossing them aside before pinning you back against the mattress with his weight.
His mouth crashes into yours again, hungry and possessive, one hand sliding between your thighs with zero hesitation this time. His fingers glide into through your slick heat, drawing a choked moan from your lips as he presses two fingers inside, curling them just right.
He swallows your gasp as his thumb circles your clit while his fingers work deeper, watching your face intently as he coaxes out every shuddering breath.
His own hips grind down against the mattress, chasing friction as he murmurs filthy praise against your skin – how perfect you are, how fucking wet, how he’s never letting you go now that he’s had a taste.
Leon’s voice is ragged with lust as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his fingers still working you with slow maddening precision. “Tell me,” he growls, his thumb circling your clit in a way that makes your thighs tremble. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
His teeth graze your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin as he adds, low and rough. “Because right now, all I can think of is burying myself inside you.”
The heat in your belly is coiled so tight you feel ready to snap, his voice – hoarse and demanding – only adding to the desperate need. You whimper at the dirty words, hips arching against his hand.
“Leon,” you manage to gasp, fingers clenching in his hair. “I need more. God, more of – of you.”
His lips find the hollow of your neck, tongue tracing a damp path down your collarbone. He groans against your skin, fingers speeding up as he crooks them. “You sure?”
Leon pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his pupils blown wide with desire. His fingers still inside you curl deliberately, drawing a ragged moan from your lips.
“Say it,” he growls, voice rough as gravel. His thumb presses harder against your clit, circling in slow, tortuous motions. “Tell me you want me inside you.”
His free hand fists in the sheets beside your head, the muscles in his forearm flexing with the effort of holding himself back. The restraint is palpable – the way his hip grinds helplessly against the air, the flush creeping down his neck. He needs to hear you beg for it.
“Leon, please,” you hear yourself begging, voice cracking. “I want you, god. I need you inside now. Need to feel you, need to –to –”
He groans, your pleading undoing the last of his fragile self–restraint. “God, the way you beg,” he breathes.
Leon moves, fingers slipping from your core as he rolls onto his knees, shoving off his button-down shirt. The motion is almost jerky, so at odds with the effortless grace he usually carries himself with. He’s just as desperate as you are–no, more.
His hands come to rest at your waist, broad palms skimming your ribs as he tugs you up the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he kneels between your legs, eyes roaming your bare body with an intensity that leaves you flushed and overheated.
The hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, the way his fingers flex against your skin as if he’s trying to control himself. Your stomach flips as he leans over you, one hand braced next to your head as he dips his face close. His nose nudges your jaw, and you tilt your head, a shiver running down your spine as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, voice rough and ragged. He sounds wrecked.
Leon’s lips trail down your neck, his tongue tracing the underside of your jaw, teeth nibbling at the sensitive spots that make you tremble. You can feel the hard press of him against your thigh, his hands wandering across your bare skin like he’s trying to touch every inch of you at once. “So perfect. Fuck, sweetheart, I need you.”
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. You can feel him shaking, struggling to rein in that famous self control.
Leon finally pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers hook into the waistband of his own pants, shoving them down impatiently before kicking them aside. The way he stares at you–hungry, possessive, reverent–makes your pulse spike.
He leans back over you, one forearm braced by your head as his other hand guides himself to your entrance. “Tell me this is what you want,” he rasps.
When you whimper out a breathless yes, Leon pushes in with one slow, devastating thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrates through your chest.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, forehead dropping to yours. “Knew you’d feel – god – perfect.” His hips jerk, chasing the tight, wet heat of you as his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise. “Mine.”
Leon’s voice, the way he sounds, leaves you reeling against the bed. You’ve never seen him this undone, this desperate for something – as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.
You lift a shaking hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in the short strands as you draw him down, breath hitching as his lips meet yours in a searing kiss. “Yours,” you find yourself whimpering. “God, all yours.”
Leon’s breath stutters at your words, his entire body tensing as if struck by lightning. “Fuck,” he growls against your lips, hips snapping forward in an abrupt thrust that punches a moan from your chest.
His rhythm is uneven at first – his usual precision completely unraveled – but the way his hands grip you, the way his forehead presses to yours with each ragged exhale, makes it achingly intimate.
“Say it again,” he rasps, fingers tightening almost painfully on your thigh as he drags you impossibly closer. “Tell me –”
His plea dissolves into a groan as you arch beneath him, nails raking down his back in silent demand. He doesn’t need words anymore. The way you clench around him says everything.
Leon moans when your nails score down his back, a shudder wracking his body as he buries himself deeper with a ragged groan. His hips snap forward in short, punishing strokes, chasing the tight, desperate clench of your body around him.
“Sweetheart –” His voice cracks as he lifts himself up on one arm, blue eyes burning into yours as he drags the tip of his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, forcing a choked cry from your lips.
“You feel that?” he gasps, fingers digging into your hip as he sets a merciless pace. “That’s mine.” His thumb finds your clit, circling in rough, perfect strokes. “All mine.”
The possessive growl in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach, your toes curling as pleasure coils tighter and tighter – until you’re shaking beneath him, clinging to his shoulders as the world fractures into white-hot ecstasy.
Leon follows you over with a strangled curse, hips stuttering as he spills into you with a groan that sounds almost pained. He collapses forward, catching himself on trembling arms as he presses his forehead to yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath in the aftermath.
“...Fuck,” he mutters after a long moment, voice hoarse and wrecked. His lips brush yours in a lazy, satiated kiss. “Defintely should have done that sooner.”
Leon exhales a shaky laugh, his breath still uneven as he rolls onto his side, dragging you with him so your bodies stay pressed together. His fingers trail absently up and down your spine – gentle now, the rough edges of earlier passion softened into something tender.
The silence between you isn’t awkward; it’s warm and comfortable in a way that makes something flutter in your chest.
His thumb traces small circles on your shoulder while outside, rain begins tapping softly against the windowpane – nature's lullaby wrapping around both of you like an embrace all its own.
