Law had never been particularly fond of dreams. They were never kind to him. Faces of those he’d lost, those he failed to save, mistakes he couldn’t undo all haunted him at night. He was reluctant to sleep at all most days, only giving in after you or Bepo had forced him to lay down and exhaustion overpowered him. Once he would have been grateful for pleasant dreams or a full night’s sleep. 

Law! Yes, Law!

Your voice haunted him, the image of you on top of him. The way you so sweetly called for him, the way you clenched around him, the way your chest bounced with every movement. God, it was intoxicating. He would give anything to hear you call his name like that again. Anything except risk your friendship, one of the only things that kept him grounded in life. When he woke up from the first dream, a stain on his pants and shame in his heart, he swore he would never let something like this affect your relationship.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Always something different. Sometimes you were on top of him, sometimes below him, sometimes on your knees, sometimes bent over his desk. Every time your beautiful eyes blinked at him, filled with tears of pleasure, your sweet voice keening for him to give you more, more, more. And every time he woke up to a problem needing to be solved and more feelings to push deep down, never to return. Until the next night, when it happened again.

He had never been more grateful that he had his own room. He can’t imagine how humiliating it would be if someone else saw him like this, biting down on his pillow as he rut into his own hand. If someone saw the way tears slipped down his lashes as he sped up, heard his cry of your name muffled into the fabric between his teeth, he would never be able to recover.

But luckily, no one ever would. His shame would stay in the dim light of his cabin, and his carefully protected image of control would remain unblemished. You’d never suspect a thing.

But the thoughts remain.

And he could handle that, really, he could. He’s a grown man, he can control himself. But you just keep pushing him, not even knowing what you’re doing. It’s small things, really. Yesterday, when you laughed at a dumb joke Shachi told you, you leaned forward enough to show off just a hint of your cleavage. Something that shouldn’t even phase him, but made him white knuckle the table to stop himself from throwing you over his shoulder and marching down to his room. 

The day before that, you put your hand on his knee during dinner, thumb gently brushing against him as you smiled and told him you thought everything was going to be okay. You’ve comforted him like that a thousand times, but he couldn’t focus on the tender tone of your voice, only the feeling of the warmth of your hand seeping through his pants. He imagined that hand sliding higher and higher, how that warmth would feel somewhere else.

He had to excuse himself from dinner. You thought he was still upset, tried to follow him in concern, and he just barely managed to fend you off before he ran to his bathroom and took care of the hard-on you’d given him. He prayed you didn’t hear his quiet moans of your name or the sound of him pumping his cock in his hand.

A thousand small things, ways you show you care or small motions that show off your body, all building pressure that threatens to burst whenever he looks at you, threatens his carefully crafted control. 

You’re so determined to break him, but he remains strong.

Until you wake him halfway through the worst dream yet.

Law! Law! God, yes, Law! Your voice is still ringing in his ears, your cunt still tightening around his cock, as your hand shakes him awake.

“Law! You can’t sleep here, you’ll fuck up your back.” Your voice is so soft, so concerned, as you try to pull him up from his desk. He can already feel the pain in his spine as you pull him to his feet, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

He’s hard, he’s horny, and you’re right here, your hands on him as he can still hear you screaming his name.

He takes a step forward, his arms threatening to wrap around you, and he can just barely process that you’ve removed your hands from him as your eyes shift away from him.

“Law?” Your voice is meek, nervous, not at all like his dreams. But the red on your cheeks, the way your eyes shine? Those are familiar. He’s so close now.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” He can barely keep the shake from his voice.

“What?” You take a step back, but your back hits the wall behind you.

“I’ve been holding back for months. Trying to keep control, to not ruin this, but you just,” he takes a step forward.

“Keep,” another step.

“Haunting me.” Your chests are pressed together, and he can feel every breath of yours as your tits press against him. They feel even better than he imagined. He almost expects you to push him away, to run, but you don’t. Instead you stare at him with your stupid, beautiful doe eyes, lips slightly parted, face flushed, and he can’t hold back anymore.

Your lips are soft. They’re slightly tacky from your chapstick, and he’s delighted to find it makes you taste like strawberries. You tense for a moment, and he fears he’s frightened you, ruined everything, but then your arms wrap around him and he knows you’ve wanted this just as badly as he has.

His hands grip your ass as his tongue presses firmly against your lips, which you almost immediately part wider to allow him better access. One of your hands presses firmly against his back, while the other slides forward to grope at his chest. Your fingers press into his shirt, seemingly torn between pulling him closer and feeling every inch of him beneath your fingertips. His hips roll against his will, and the whimper you let out into his mouth destroys what little self control he has left.

He lifts you with ease, pulling you impossibly closer, before throwing you onto his desk, papers and logs be damned. Nothing on it is more important than him being inside of you as soon as humanly possible. In his dreams, he always stripped slowly and sensually, teasing you until you were begging for his touch, his cock, but he’s going to explode if he isn’t inside you within the minute. He practically rips off your uniform, throwing it behind him, where he can hear it take something that sounds suspiciously like his lamp down with it, glass shattering when it hits the floor. He can’t bring himself to give a shit.

“Law,” you say in that squeaky little voice you always get when you’re surprised. “What’s—”

Your sentence breaks off into a moan as he sinks his teeth into your neck. He can smell your shampoo mixing with the scent of your sweat, and god he really might break this desk beneath you if you keep driving him insane. Your hand shoots to the back of his head, gripping his hair and tugging as you continue to let out little whimpers and moans with every thrust of his clothed hips against your panties. 

“Every night, you ruin me, and I have to wake up and pretend to forget,” he groans into your neck. “Every night you give me everything I’ve ever wanted just to take it away. You’re cruel.”

He wants to take off his jeans, but he can’t bring himself to remove his hands from you. You’re so much better than his dreams, soft and warm and real beneath his fingers. His mind could never have conjured up such a perfect feeling.

You must have read his mind, because your hands slide his coat from his shoulders, fingers tracing his abs down to his waist. He’s so lost in the feeling he doesn’t understand your intent until you let out an adorable frustrated huff. “Stop moving for a second,” you snap, fingers struggling to grab the button of his jeans.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If you tackled me to the desk so you can grope me while you cum in your pants I’m leaving.”

The laugh that rips through him stills him just long enough for you to pop the button and rip his pants and underwear down. The fabric catches on his thighs, but you’re stuck, frozen, watching his cock spring out of its prison. Law has always been proud of his body, but nothing has made him feel sexier than watching the way your mouth falls open looking at him.

“You’re drooling,” he chuckles.

“I am,” you say, not taking your eyes off of his dick. You reach for it, fingers tracing lightly up his length, and watch as it twitches in response.

“Don’t tease me,” Law says through gritted teeth. One hand grips the desk for dear life, the only thing holding him back from slamming into you like an animal.

“Oh? Don’t what? I couldn’t hear you.” Your fingers trace back down, following the vein, touching enough to stimulate but not enough to pleasure.

Law is a proud man. He does not beg. He would never—

“God, please—” His voice breaks off once you mercifully wrap your fingers around him, thumb rubbing briefly against the head. He shudders, head falling forward, pressing himself as deeply into you as he physically can.

“It’s even bigger than I imagined,” you murmur.

“You imagined me?” He tries to make his voice sexy and gruff, but it comes out as more of a whine.

“All the time.”

He latches onto your neck, both to get himself to stop talking before he makes himself sound as undone as he feels, and to mark you as his. He desperately needs to leave some kind of sign that this happened, something to tell him tomorrow this wasn’t just another one of his tortuous little dreams. This is real, it is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and by god is he going to make sure he remembers every single moment.

His free hand reaches for your panties, pulling them down far more carefully than he did your uniform. The delicate lace is a bit less durable than thick canvas. You hiss as your cunt is exposed to the air, your hand slightly tightening around his cock.

He removes himself from your neck to look you in the eye. Your face is flushed, your pupils blown out, and your hair is a mess. You look beautiful. “Ready?”

“Please fuck me already, Captain.”

You barely have time to get your hand out of the way before he’s slamming into your entrance, the force of it shaking the desk beneath you. You feel heavenly, warm and wet, clenching around him. Law lets out an absolutely mortifying noise, halfway between a moan and groan, and you clench around him tighter in response.

“God—”

“Oh Law—”

His dreams didn’t compare to the real thing. Your voice dripping with desire and want, the friction as he pulled out inch by torturous inch, it was beyond dream or fiction. He could never have conceived something so wonderful. He ruts back into you, to the hilt this time, your hips slamming together with near bruising force. The desk shakes again, creaking dangerously, but he doesn’t give a shit and he can’t imagine you do either. 

One hand remains on your hip to stabilize you, and the other takes the opportunity to explore your chest as he kisses you. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but none of the awkwardness detracts from the feeling of your soft lips against his. You easily allow his tongue into your mouth, putting up no fight to the tidal wave of lust driving him to consume you whole. 

Your chest is so soft beneath Law’s fingers he could weep. His teenage self would have killed a man to feel this, and frankly, he still would now. You whine into his mouth when he pinches your nipple, a sound that he swallows greedily. He wants every part of you, every noise and smell and feeling you can offer.

He tries to keep control of his hips, but he can feel his pace growing quick and sloppy. He wants so desperately to remain in control of everything, to spend the entire night giving you all of the pleasure you could stand, but you feel so good around him and he’s needed this for so very long.

He pulls back for a breath, chest heaving, and he sees your eyes have grown unfocused, your mouth still open as the spit connecting you catches the light.

“Law, yes, god, yes!” You sing like an angel. He can feel your legs growing tense as they tighten around his hips, and he’s assured to know you’re as out of control as he is. His hand reaches down, his fingers not hesitating for a second before finding your clit. His rough fingers press against you, rubbing experimentally as he tries to follow your expressions to see what way will best make you fall apart beneath him. You’re far too gone for such intense study, as every move he makes brings you closer to the edge. Your nails dig into his back, dragging down his shoulderblades, and it takes everything in him not to cum instantly. He’ll be damned if he cums before you do.

Your breath quickens as your moans turn to high pitched whines, growing louder and louder until one final thrust and rub brings you beyond the edge. You throw your head back and scream, your arms pulling him closer until your chests touch, your legs wrapping around him and locking him in place. You spasm around his cock, squeezing as though your life depends on it, and he follows soon after with the small thrusts your legs will allow him.

You collapse beneath him, boneless, as he comes as deep into you as he physically can. He falls on top of you soon after, barely catching himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His chest heaves as he tries and fails to catch his breath, so instead of breathing he settles for suffocating while admiring your beautiful flushed face. Your eyelids have fallen shut, your mouth letting out little puffs of air as you struggle with the same problem he is. His dreams never got this far, to the after.

It’s amazing.

You look so amazing fucked-out beneath him, a smile on your face that he’s sure you aren’t even aware is there. He could live in this moment forever, just staring at you, knowing he’s the one who made you look like this.

Even as he leans forward a little too far and a loud crack lets him know the desk is giving out beneath you.

He just barely manages to pull you on top of him so his back hits the floor instead of yours. You’re tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. You stare at the desk’s remains as he stares at you, and when you laugh, his chest tightens. God, he might be more in love with you than before.

As he lifts you, watching the way your eyes sparkle as you giggle and ask how he’s going to explain the desk to the crew, he thinks he can live with some more frustrating dreams. It’ll never compare to the real thing, and he has a feeling you won’t mind him coming to you for more help in the future.

“I think… I think it’s best if we end things. Here.” The words escape his throat as if he’s choking on a pill. Your face falls into something he hasn’t seen before; true shock, followed by confusion.

“Are you fucking with me, Leon?” It’s a harsh question, words edged sharp as a knife. You can tell he’s not joking, but you are in such disbelief at what he’d said that you have to know it’s for real. Have to make him say it. That after months of finally feeling seen and held by someone who truly cares, he’s throwing it all away because of what ifs.

“No,” he swallows and stares down at his hands, fidgeting on the table of the coffee shop. An impersonal place; one you’ve never been to together. No attachment, something he thought would make this all easier. To part and become strangers again. It only creates a thicker tension. “Look, I’m-I’m moving all the way to Raccoon City, and I’m going to be working weird hours. There’s risks involved— you deserve something more stable—”

“I don’t want stable,” you reach for his hand, but he yanks it away before your fingers touch. He can’t bear to do this with your warmth on him. He won’t be able to. “I want you, Leon. Isn’t it obvious? Why can you take risks on your job but I can’t with you?”

“I don’t—” There’s no good answer from him. You’re right; you nearly always are. But he’s dug his heels in. Maybe it’s the fear of attachment, or the fear of abandonment. Maybe it’s being used to being alone. Maybe it’s wanting to be the hero, to save people of something like his youth. “Listen. Just go home. You’re better off without me. I’m sorry.” And that’s how he left it. Left you, sniffling at that café, while he found himself at a bar to drink away the pain.  

You could tell he was still reeling from the events of his first day at… work. There was something shaky in his voice, something quieter about him. Even over the phone it was obvious. It pulled at your heart. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t be there for him when he’s going through this. Fuck the break up. And you’d told him as much.

Leon feels stupid for thinking that letting you go was a smart decision. But he also feels a pool of guilt, of selfishness in his stomach for asking you to come over. For pulling you back into his bullshit. Yet here you were, showering in his newly acquired, much nicer hotel room paid by the government as part of an uncomfortable exchange for his recruitment to STRATCOM. They’d promised him an apartment soon enough, but he imagines it will feel just as hollow.

At least with you here, it felt a little more like a home.

The second he opens the door, he’s struck dead in his tracks. You’re in front of him again, by some miracle. Really there. Hair a mess from the wind, your jacket falling off your shoulder, and  a container of food gripped in your hands. Even through the long pause of you looking at each other, the pull is obvious. You have tears in your eyes again, like the last time he saw you. But they’re different this time; something along the lines of relief rather than frustration.

Your arms reach for him and he can’t stop himself from falling into the hug. Your fingers are warm. They’re steady. Your wrist thrumming with a pulse against his back. The last touches he’d had were ones of the undead; cold and hungry grabs that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Even Ada’s stray brushes hadn’t been something to fawn over; although she’d had a semblance of care for him, they were marred in his memory by her betrayal. 

Even just a week out from his last day with you, it felt like a lifetime ago since he’d last felt genuine touch. So much has happened since then. Holding you in his arms is, at the very least, surreal, and at the most, a heaven he’s not sure he even deserves. Not when so many lie dead, slipped from his grasp.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again for a second, there.” The weight of your voice nearly sends him to the floor. Real and close, buried in his chest like before he’d turned everything into a mess. He squeezes you tighter, a little afraid you’d turn tail and run when you discover he isn’t quite the same man as he had been before. Something had shifted, something darker and quieter at the forefront now. But when you pull away just enough to look at him, it’s like nothing has changed for you. There’s worry, a little frustration, pulling at your expression. But the fire in your eyes is a warm one; a fight he’d come to be too familiar with. He can’t bring himself to make a bad joke. He can’t think of much of anything except your hands on him. You fill the space for him. “Can’t get rid of you that easy, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry,” is what eventually falls out of his mouth, like a bowling ball through a weak laminate floor. Your eyebrows raise and a sigh blows from your lips. A small smile curves your mouth upwards, and it’s tinged with affection in a way that makes Leon’s knees weak. He lets himself go now, crumbling to the floor and gripping your legs like they’re the only thing holding him upright. And they may as well be. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Leon,” his name said so sweetly, like its own kind of hug, breaking a dam in him. A choked sob leaves him and you kneel with him, taking his head into your chest. You don’t tell him it’s going to be okay, you don’t shush him. Nothing is okay for him right now, and it’s just a fact you’ve accepted. But regardless, you’re here. You’re here to help him get there. And he’s never been so grateful for something in his entire life.

It’s laughable, really. That he’d thought he could get away with ending things.

You’re more stubborn than he is, especially when given enough reason to know better. And you can read him like a picture book.

From the bathroom now, your humming turns to singing as another song pops in your head. It drags him from his deep well of thought, pulling him up with a kind, open hand to your dazzling smile etched in his memory.

He rolls onto his back and sighs again, then feels his ears reddening when his thoughts trail back to last night. Your body on top of his, the both of you desperately kissing, and near tears with the need to be close. Your hands trailing down his back, crying his name like he hadn’t broken your heart not even a week ago. 

He’d kissed you hard like he regrets ever pushing you away. And he does. 

You’d kissed him like he’s your whole world, like forgiveness is as easy as taking a breath. Because it is. 

You know why he pulled away. And you managed to reel him back in. Because you know Leon. You know he goes cold when he’s scared. But you don’t take your pull for him lightly. You’re in it for the long haul. And even if you hadn’t said as much yet, you love him. 

The risks don’t matter. You just want him.

The night prior had been an illustration of that much. All intimacy and yearning. And your suspicions were confirmed; he feels the same. He was just as frenzied, hands all over you and pressing you closer and closer until you were sure you’d meld together.

Leon feels morning wood straining at his boxer briefs, absentmindedly brushing his hand over his erection as he thinks of you. All teasing smiles, with something deeper underneath. Your eyes sparkling and your scent slipping around him like a trance. Soft fingertips slipping underneath his shirt, and a velvet smooth voice asking if what you were doing was okay. Because you know he’s not. But he’d wanted— needed the closeness regardless. Not just because you were a warm body, no. He wanted you.

The shower’s still running. 

He pushes his hand underneath and tips his head back in a low groan.

Flashes of you play in his mind like a dirty movie and he spits in his hand to go in for a stroke. His eyelids slip shut and he jerks his cock slowly, trying to recreate the hot, intimate pace you’d set last night. Sweaty skin sticking to each other, warm breath all over his neck, moaning sweetly in his ear. Kisses on his jaw. 

Fuck, he’s in love with you.

The drag of his palm against his length is nothing compared to your heat. And it’s a shallow version of the pleasure of you, his skin feeling egregiously bare without your hands on it, tracing all over until you’re grabbing him. Holding him like he’s your anchor, like he’s something stable.

A deep groan comes from his chest at the vision of you holding him. Your hands clawing at his back as you nudge him further inside of you, to be as close as possible. A confirmation that you’d missed him just as much as he’d missed you, that the separation was indeed, too, a devastating misery for you. And yet you’d met his eyes with nothing short of confidence. There’s a spark there, a sense of trust that he feels he must have damaged when he left. But you’re so forgiving with your touch, so easily understanding and patient with him. The tears that prick his eyes when you’d shown up, when you were underneath him, when you woke at 2 in the morning from his restless tossing. None of it fazed you, and, in fact, you welcomed him into your arms easily. Like he’s meant to be there.

The desperation and need to be close that you display sends a heat wave through his already knotted lower stomach. Begging him for more, giving him praise, like he was anything but a failure. You still want him. With an enthusiasm that matches his own. Your babbled, pleased sighs play on loop in his mind, and he picks up the pace beneath the fabric of his briefs with a whimper.

He doesn’t hear the bathroom door open once you’ve finished showering, and he’s still got a hand moving beneath his boxers as you stand and watch. You almost think you’re making it up when you see him like that; eyebrows pulled upwards and heavy sighs escaping his lips. You shift your feet, clutching your towel tighter around you. You clench your legs together when Leon lets out a breathy, quiet moan of your name. It takes you a few seconds, but the horniness instills some kind of bravery in you.

“Need some help, handsome?”

Leon feels embarrassment run up his spine in a hot flash, and his eyes fly open, his hand freezing in his underwear. Still glazed over with desire, but wide with surprise. He feels like he can’t speak as you drop your towel and your nude form is climbing into bed, slinking between his legs. Your hand covers his, a layer of fabric between. You kiss him slow, pulling down his underwear as you lick open his mouth. His length peeks out from beyond his fist, weeping arousal. You pry open his fingers and slip your own through his, your other hand coming to stroke up his length once, twice, using your thumb to swipe his precum with it. He shivers at the slick coating his cock and inhales sharply at your touch.

“I-” He begins, breathing heavily on your lips. You shut him up with another kiss.

“It’s okay,” you silence any of his apologies that were on the edge of his tongue. “‘s hot.” Leon’s hand tightens where it’s been at the back of your neck as you kiss down his chest, all the way to his leaking tip. You take him in your mouth and he lets out a high-pitched whimper.

You bob your head up and down at a deliciously steady pace, stroking the remaining of his length as you go. He watches you with sex-dazed ocean eyes, holding your hair back to keep it out of your face. He wants a clear view of you, your misty lashes from the depth you’re taking him, the way your back is arched, your hand on his thigh. He thinks he must have died because surely there’s nothing he’s done to deserve this in the waking world.

“Fffuu- fuck, baby,” he sighs, he’s rambling now. Mouth running with sweet things like so perfect and you feel so good and then, suddenly it manifests aloud this time:

“God, I’m in love with you.”

You come off him with a grin on your face. You’re still stroking his cock when you kiss him, tongue pushing past his lips greedily. There’s something soft in your eyes despite the position you’re in when you pull back to look at him.

“You mean that? Or is it just ‘cause I’m giving you head?”

“Both,” he sighs. Then he shakes himself from the haze, realizing the can of worms he’s just opened. “I mean- um, yeah. Yes. Yes.”

“You break up with all the girls you’re in love with?” Your tone is light, teasing, but Leon can’t rid himself of the guilt sitting heavy on his shoulders.

“I thought it was for the best, I-” he looks down and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I just thought it’d keep you safe.” You’ve let go of him now, in favor of straddling his lap. You take his face in your hands.

“I know,” you say, like it’s so simple. A pause hangs in the air as you kiss his cheek. “I’m here for you, Leon. I don’t care if there are risks, or if it’s going to be hard. I want you. All of you.”

Leon’s heart cracks open. He clings to you like sticky caramel, pressing his face into your neck. You hold the back of his head against you to encourage his touch. He takes in a shaky breath, and the exhale has words alongside it.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be loved,” you run your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. He sighs, squeezes you tighter. “And I love you, too, by the way.” He looks at you now, blue eyes all soft and teetering on something like a puppy who’s just got his ears scratched for the first time. Just like that, you’re kissing again, deeper with something more passionate awakened. You grind on his lap, and your moans layer on top of each other at the feeling.

“I need you,” Leon breathes. You pull his hand between your thighs, right where it’s burning hot with need.

“You've got me,” you lean into his ear, riding his hand as he rubs you. Your slick is everywhere, on your thighs and his, and now, as he presses his cock against you, slipping down his length.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whines. “Can I-”

“Please, Leon,” you don’t let him finish his question. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing just at the feeling of him so close to you. He goes back in for a kiss, all tongue and teeth as if he wants to swallow you whole. It’s not pretty. It’s frantic, begging. And it’s unbelievably sexy to know he wants you just as bad as you want him.

You grind on his length as he presses it against your vulva, letting your slick lube him up. Everything is hot and wet; his kisses, your most intimate areas. The beads of your shower clinging to your shoulders. And it’s punctuated by the wet, squelching sound of him sliding home inside of you. The stretch is unbelievably good; like coming home after a long day. Your moans against each other’s skin completes the chorus of filth.

Leon’s hands grip desperately at your ass as you begin to ride him. You move your hips in slow, deep circles that have your noises turning breathy. He watches you like a painting; taking in each detail, every freckle and texture of your skin, the pattern you move in. Eyes half-closed in pleasure, meanwhile your mouth is slack from how good it feels to be loved like this.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs. Your hands slide up his pecs, over his shoulders. His muscles are strong, secure from his training. He’s built, but only the beginning of what he’s talked about having as a goal. There’s still a bit of baby fat that clings to his cheeks, his tummy. And you secretly hope it’ll stay. It’s a remnant of the boyishness you’d fallen in love with. Maybe, just maybe, something this quieter, troubled Leon can hang on to. For his own sake.

“You’re gorgeous,” you gasp into another kiss, then trail down to his jaw, the length of his neck. He tips his head back eagerly for you to take what you want. Suck a bruise onto his neck. He nearly whimpers at being marked, thrusting upwards into your downward moves and loosening your lips in a groan. “Fuck, Leon, right there.”

“Yeah?” His voice is airy and swims with lust. He grips your hips tight and nearly growls as he continues to meet your movements. “Shit, you’re squeezing me.”

“‘M getting close,” you whimper. He throws head back to the wall when you begin to bounce faster. Your hands find purchase on his chest, and he brings his own palms over them. His fingers slide into the gaps of yours easily, and you squeeze tightly as you ride closer and closer to the peak. “Look at me, baby.” All Leon can do is obey, and he nearly melts at the way your sweet eyes are already boring into him. One of your hands leaves his to cup his cheek, slipping fast into his hair when he thrusts upward into you again. The noise of pleasure that escapes your mouth encourages him, and he does it again. Again. Again. Again. Until a drawn out whine is leaving you and a jumble of words afterward as you frantically chase your high. “Fuckfuckfuck, Leon, ohmygod, I’m gonna—”

“Please, please, please,” is all he can manage to get out. Your walls squeeze like a vice and trap his throbbing cock. All he can do is rut upwards as your release wets his shaft and runs down to his balls.

"Let go for me, baby, I'm right here," your voice in his ear breaks something in him, and his eyes go misty.

Relief, pleasure, love flood him all at once and he lets out a strangled noise that he's not sure he could recreate. The warmth, the wetness, the sharp tingle of your nails into his pec have him orgasming before he can even think to warn you, and you let out a high-pitched noise of pleasure at the feeling. His cum spurts hot and never-ending into you as you grind down. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at the overstimulation. His hips twitch upward as he devours you in a messy kiss.

“I love you, shit, I love you.”

“I love you, Leon,” you reply easily, a breathy laugh on the edge of your words at his eagerness.

The two of you slump over once he’s finally spent, and you match your breathing to his heaving chest as you both try to catch your breath. His heart thrums against his ribs like a kick drum. The rhythm is rife with solace.

It’s quiet for a moment, the hum of the ceiling fan smooth against your hurried breath. Leon’s fingertips skim upwards across your back. They’re rough now; callouses forming where there once was soft skin. A mark of the long hours spent clutching a gun in Raccoon City. Even the academy hadn’t given him such visible signs of his training.

“Do you… want to talk about what happened? That night?” You didn’t have to specify. It looms over the two of you regardless, even through the comfort of each other. His muscles tense at your question. His arms circle around you tighter, like a child and his well-loved teddy bear. 

“Another time,” he manages to say after a long pause. The words are thick with unspoken fear; something he’s attempting to bury deep in his chest. You decide to give him a little more time; to not press further when he’s already got a million things going on as his world spins faster than before. He's safe, here in your arms, and that's enough for now.

“Okay,” you murmur. Your fingers curl against his chest and you bury your nose into his neck. “I’ll be here when that time comes.” Leon swallows another round of tears at that. They’re almost drops of relief this time. He grounds himself with your scent, breathing deep in your hair. The cheap hotel shampoo smells of fake lavender, but there’s hints of you coming through now. Of your love and devotion. Sweat, and a bit of sex. It’s warm. Heady. And still so comforting.

but after a few weeks of the same routine, leon waking you both up to start the day, you'd overtake the bathroom for the first ten minutes before giving him the green light to start his workout. he'd splash his face with cold water beside you, who's already taking out the many tubes and whatnots for your skincare, while he shrugs off his hoodie and tank top. that's when he begins to feel it, that burning stare right where his muscles flexed when he rolls his shoulders as a warm-up. leon knows you're watching.

a devious idea comes to mind as his hands grip the metal bars and he begins his workout. he has to try very hard not to take glances at you to see if his plans are working. but he doesn't have to—not when leon hears the slight hitch of your breath when he grunts a little too loudly. he can feel your questionable stare at the back of his head, but he just continues with those little noises of his.

grunts, breathy exhales, hell, leon has resorted to counting his reps just enough for you to hear. a chuckle eventually escapes him when he catches your flustered glare through the mirror. he only throws you another smirk as you roll your eyes, attempting to go about your routine without staring at him too much.

you survived about ten minutes of leon grunting right behind you before you grew exasperated enough to drag your cold hands through the planes of his bare back.

"what the fuck, babe?" he asks incredulously. dropping down from his pull-up bar to face you, arms crossed over his chest. leon isn't actually mad, you both know that, because there's a teasing smirk on his face as you huff an annoyed breath, turning on your heel and returning to your spot at the counter.

he rolls his eyes, uncrossing his arms and crossing the room with only a few strides. you eventually find yourself caged in between his arms, leon's breath fanning your ear as he murmurs, "thought you were enjoying the show."

"who even said i was watching you?" you counter.

"never said i was the show, now did i, sweetheart?"

leon knows he's got you when the tips of your ears flush a cute shade of pink, and you stutter out a denial. another chuckle escapes him, one steady arm wrapping around your waist to end your plans of escaping his corner. "now, where do you think you're going?" he asks, his voice rumbling into your ear as his head drops to your shoulder, pressing featherlight kisses down to your forearm.

"fuckin' creep," you glare at his reflection in the mirror.

"your fuckin' creep, sweetheart."

leon and you had been going out for five months. five months of kisses, dates, flowers, cuddles and many other things. he was the sweetest guy you had ever dated. he actually took the time to get to know you first. which was something, in your experience, not a lot of men did. they just wanted one thing and one thing only.

but not leon, leon knew better.

leon was the type of guy to see a beautiful girl and be polite, respectful. sure, he’d get teased by his coworkers at the station for being a feminist. but women were people too, they deserved to be treated the same as anyone else.

so when he met you, he took his time. he got to know you first. he asked you out, called you, took you out on dates. he put in the effort same as you did. he wanted to be the best he could for you. he knew you didn’t have a good history with men.

and he wanted to change that.

he wanted to be that guy for you.

so he took his time, did everything he could to be the best and only the best for you. he was completely honest with you, he never lied. hell, he’d even gone grocery shopping with you just because you asked.

after weeks of making out, small caresses and kisses. he finally got to have sex with you. and if he thought dating you couldn’t get any better, he’d hit the mother load when he had sex with you for the first time. it was everything he’d dreamed it would be.

so when you asked him today, if you could ride him. he looked at you like he had just won the lottery. sure, he liked being ontop — fucking you into the mattress until you couldn’t remember your own name — but you being on top? his brain couldn’t comprehend how he got so lucky.

“you sure? it might hurt.” he whispered softly as he caressed your hair back away from your eyes. but you wanted to try it, wanted to give him a break from being ontop, he deserved a little bit of a breather, right? “i’ll go slow.” you whispered with a small breathless chuckle.

leon wasn’t small by any means but he wasn’t huge either, he was just average. but that still didn’t mean you could accommodate his size. he always had to prep you first, a blessing and a curse within itself. so this position was bound to cause some issues, but you were going to go slow right? you said you would. so maybe it would all be—

“fuck, slow.” he was punched out of his thoughts when your warm entrance had surrounded the tip of his cock. you held onto his shoulders, his back against the headboard and both of you naked from earlier activities. you let out a small sigh, “i’m trying.” you whispered with a small hiss.

he grabbed onto the meat of your hips, “stay right here. i’ll guide you. you wanna do this, we’re doing it together.” he says firmly, his tone strained. he was trying his hardest to have some self control right now. “no shit, sher—oh!” he had guided you down another inch, taking the retort right out of your mouth.

“what was that, baby? couldn’t catch that.” he said in a cocky tone as you stared at him with a small glare. you swallowed and let yourself relax against that other inch he slid up into you. “shut up.” you muttered but it held no real malice.

he let you adjust another couple of minutes, this was borderline torture for him, but he couldn’t just start fucking up into you. he was letting you take this at your pace, ever the gentleman, even in the sack.

“you ready for a little more?” he asked as he massaged the meat of your hips, trying to release some of the strain from you half on his dick. you let out a small breath and nodded, trying to prepare yourself for another inch of leon.

“alright, baby.” he slid you down another inch, waited and then another inch until finally you were seated on his dick at full mass. you let out a small pained sound, almost wanting to just cum like this. you didn’t even know if you could move, you felt so full from this angle. you could feel him in your stomach.

“fuck me.” you breathe as you let out a deep breath, your chest rising and falling fast as you strained to take him. “i could but you wanted to be on top-“ he starts but you slap your lips to his, kissing him slowly and taking the words out of his mouth.

“i didn’t mean like that.” you respond when your lips break apart, “just give me a few more seconds.” you whisper as you rest your forehead against his. your shared breaths mingling where you hold onto each other.

you wait a few more seconds before rising up and slowly lowering yourself, your hips meeting his as you try to ride him slowly. your breath coming out in small gasps. it was taking everything in him not to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress.

you gasped softly as you rode him, your body almost didn’t feel like yours anymore. you were someone else entirely, bouncing up and down on him. moans leaving your lips like a sweet siren song.

and all leon could do was watch — watch as you bounced on his cock. rode him into oblivion, his hands bruising on your hips as he let you bounce up and down on his cock. it felt so heavenly, he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

your tits started bouncing in his face and suddenly he couldn’t take it anymore, he uses his hand to slide up your spine and push your chest into his face. mauling your tits with kisses and bites as you absolutely wreck him.

he moans against the plush skin of your chest as you swivel your hips in just the right direction. he gently bites on your nipple causing you to moan loudly in response — oh? you liked that.

he was just biding his time, feeling you start to flutter around him like the perfect angel you were. he knew you were close, he had it practically down to a science by now.

“oh pretty girl, cmon. cum on my cock, baby. soak it.” he was almost whiney and desperate at this point as he let you grind down on him, moving your hips in a beautiful dance against his. “s’too good, leon…” you whine as you keep swiveling your hips. he’s definitely a goner, he needs you to come now before he does. he’s about two seconds away from blowing his load.

he laps at your chest, squeezing the meat of your ass with his hands. bringing one hand back a little to slap your ass. you gasp a little but moan in addition, he knew you liked it a little rough. he just needed you too-

“leon! uhhh! coming!” was all the warning he got before you clenched around his cock, your release coating his length and shaft. “fuck, baby. fuck.” he swears as he makes you stop moving your hips so he can fuck up into you.

he moves his knees up causing you to fall a little into his chest as he grabs the meat of your ass, his hips starting to punch up into you. you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. your eyes rolling back into your head as he fucked you through your orgasm to chase his.

“oh! ohhh!” you moan loudly as you bite on your bottom lip, he grunts a little into your ear as he chases his own orgasm. “you like that, baby? you like me fucking you like this?” he lightly smacks your ass again which causes a squeak to leave your lips in response.

you loved this angle, you could feel all of him. you felt so full, warm and fuzzy. you knew he was close, you could hear his grunts and moans get closer together. you also had him down to a science too. “oh god! ahhh!” you moan as he keeps fucking into you, the overstimulation making you feel a second orgasm approaching.

“don’t stop, don’t stop.” you chant over and over again, your eyes watering as shameless sounds left your mouth. leon gritted his teeth and manhandled your ass in a bruising grip as you both neared your climax together.

“cmon, baby. you can do it, come on.” he gritted out in encouragement as he kissed and mouthed at the skin of your neck. “baby, wanna feel this perfect pussy again…cmon.” he whined lowly as he smacked your ass again.

you whimpered high pitched in response before you both climaxed. your body shaking as he slowly fucked you both through it. a thin sheen of sweat coating both of your skin. you felt his come fill you, warm and sticky between your legs and in your belly before he slowly stopped his hips.

both of you panting like you just ran a mile. “jesus.” he mutters hoarsely into your neck as he rubs a hand over your spine. he gently guides your head out of his neck to look at him, seeing your flushed cheeks and bleary eyes. “we are definitely doing that again.” he whispers before he plants a soft kiss to your lips.

and how could you even refuse?

"Mmm, you smell so good.” Before you pulled back slightly resting your chin on his chest to look into his eyes. You studied his face with a theatrically confused look on your face. “Y’know, you look Like... like...Like my husband. Who I love. Did you know I have the hottest husband in the whole world?"

"You might've mentioned it," he said, trying to hide his smile as he kicked the door shut behind you. "About fifteen times on the drive home."

"Only fifteen?" You frowned, genuinely concerned. "That's not enough. You're so—" You poked his chest emphatically with each word. "Fucking. Hot. Leon."

He caught your hand before you could poke him again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's get you some water, Okay?"

But you had other ideas. Your free hand slid down his torso, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "Or... we could skip the water and get wet in other ways."

"Water first," he said firmly ignoring your lewd suggestion, though his eyes had darkened slightly. He guided you toward the kitchen, keeping one arm around you because you kept veering off course and stumbling over nothing. When you rounded the corner and almost knocked your wedding pictures off the wall, he had enough and bent down, scooping you up to throw you over his shoulder, one hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you yelp.

"Leon!" you squealed, but you were grinning and laughing as he carried you toward the kitchen. Your hands immediately mischievously slid down his firm back to grab his ass in return, squeezing a handful shamelessly.

"Mrs. Kennedy," Leon said, his voice strained with barely contained laughter. "Please keep your hands to yourself."

"No," you said simply, squeezing again for emphasis. He shook his head before he reached back behind him to gather both of your wrists to hold them captive, he was still grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. You pouted the whole way there, then immediately perked up when he deposited you onto the counter, standing in-between your legs. "Ooh, I like this." You said wrapping your legs around his waist before he could step away, pulling him close. "No! Stay." you immediately lunged forward, trying to steal a kiss.

"I need to get you water," he said, but he didn't move after that, his hands settling on your thighs.

"Don't care." You cupped his face in both hands, studying him. "Your eyes are so pretty and I love your face." You traced his bottom lip with your thumb. "Everything about you is pretty. How did I get so lucky?"

His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "I'm the lucky one."

"Don't you know the saying that the wife is always right," you insisted, tightening your legs around him. "You're stuck with me now. Forever. You married me. No takebacks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, reaching past you to grab a glass from the cabinet. You took advantage of his proximity to kiss his neck, your hands sliding under his shirt.

Leon caught you by the shoulders, holding you at arm's length. "Water first."

"Kiss first," you counter offered, trying to lean around his hands.

"Water," he repeated not coming down from his initial starting offer, he drove a hard bargain and you couldn't talk him down. You pouted dramatically as he stepped over to the sink, swinging your legs and watching him. Your eyes never left him as he filled the glass, tracking every movement like a cat watching a bird out the window. You made another grab for him wrapping around him like a koala, nipping at his neck as he tried to fill the glass.

"Baby," he said, his voice strained as he filled the glass with water. "You need to drink water."

"I need to drink you," you said, then dissolved into giggles at your own terrible line. "Get it? Because you're a tall glass of—"

"I got it," he said, laughing despite himself. He pressed the glass into your hand. "Drink."

"You're trying to waterboard me," you whined, but you took a sip anyway, never breaking eye contact. The moment you swallowed, you set the glass down and reached for him again. "There. Water. Now kiss."

"More water," he said, fighting back a smile as he pushed the glass back toward you. You took another exaggerated sip, then another, then drained half the glass in one go. "Happy?"

"With you? Always," he said sweetly and you almost melted into a puddle on the counter, he stepped between your legs letting you wrap them around his waist.

You immediately cupped his face, pulling him close. "I love you so much," you breathed, suddenly serious despite the alcohol buzzing through your system. " You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and you're so good to me. Even when I'm being silly."

His expression softened completely, and he leaned his forehead against yours. "You're always a little silly. That's why I love you." he said softly, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"Don't be so sweet to me," you said, your voice wobbling, overwhelmed by the alcohol and emotions. "I'll cry."

"Can't help it," he said, kissing the tip of your nose. You pulled him into a messy and enthusiastic kiss, he could taste the sweetness of the coconut and milk and sour tang of pineapple from the Piña colada’s you'd been drinking. He kissed you back just as thoroughly, one hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip.

When you finally broke apart, both of your chests were heaving, breathing hard. You grinned at him, feeling floaty and warm and so, so in love with the man Infront of you, taking such good care of you even though you were making it your mission to make it as difficult as possible. "Take me to bed?"

"To sleep," he clarified stubbornly, though his voice was a little rough after the kiss.

"Sure," you agreed easily, knowing you'd try to change his mind the second you got there. "Whatever you say, handsome."

He shook his head fondly and scooped you up, carrying you toward the bedroom while you peppered his jaw and neck with kisses, your hands never quite managing to stay to yourself. 

The mattress bounced as you flopped onto it, sprawling out like a starfish before you started making sheet angels in the dark navy bed sheets. Leon stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with an exasperated but completely smitten look, he couldn’t even try and hide it.

"Don't move," he said sternly pointing to you like you were a unruly dog, before heading to the bathroom.

"Can't promise anything," you called after him, already rolling onto your side and nearly tumbling off the bed. You caught yourself at the last second, giggling. Your dress was rucked up and bunched around your waist, your whole ass out as you rolled over and mashed your face directly into his pillow, letting a drawn-out moan at his scent. Breathing in the notes of the honey and vanilla of the new detergent you just bought, mixed with his own woodsy shampoo that was still lingering on the fabric. 

He returned with a makeup wipe, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His hand reached up and gently pulled your dress back into place where it had ridden up, his palm coming to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing along your curves.

"Come on, sit up for me," he said softly, his other hand sliding to your back to help you.

You pushed yourself upright with his help, swaying slightly, and when you saw the makeup wipe in his hand your whole face lit up.

"You remembered!" you said, your words slurring together in your excitement. "You're the best husband ever. I hate waking up with crusty makeup. It's so gross and my face feels all—" You made a disgusted noise, scrunching up your nose.

"I know," Leon said, his expression fond. "That's why I'm doing this."

"You're perfect," you sighed, crawling toward him on your hands and knees, aiming to look seductive and enticing but coming off more like Bambi as you overshoot and bumped into his chest. "Oops." You said laughing as you melted into his chest and he took all of your weight holding you up as he went to clean your face.

"Yeah, oops," he said, his arm coming around your waist to hold you up, while bringing the wipe to your face with the other.

The cool, damp cloth touched your cheek, and you immediately started complaining as he wiped your lips off. "Mmhhhnn!"

"Hold still," Leon said, his voice patient as he cupped the back of your head to keep you in place trying to be even more gentle then before. "You'll thank me in the morning."

"I won't," you insisted, even though you knew he was right, squirming as he wiped away your mascara and eyeshadow. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"Mm-hmm." He tilted your chin up, carefully cleaning around your eyes. "So cruel. Taking care of my drunk wife." You tried to protest again but he was already moving to your other eye, his touch gentle despite your fussing. When he finally pulled the wipe away, now thoroughly covered in foundation and mascara. Once he was done you puckered your lips expectantly, eyes still closed.

When nothing happened, you cracked one eye open to find him watching you with barely suppressed amusement. Then his hands came up to squish your cheeks together, making your lips pucker even more before he leaned in and gave you the tiniest quickest peck, releasing you.

"That's it?" you demanded sadly. "That's all I get?"

"That's all you get until you're in bed," he said, standing and moving to the dresser. He pulled out one of his old t-shirts, your favorite one to sleep in. You made grabby hands at it, but when he tried to help you out of your dress, you went completely limp. "Can't move. Too drunk. Guess I have to sleep like this."

"Nice try." He maneuvered your arms out of the sleeves despite your best efforts to be as unhelpful as possible, flopping around like a fish out of water. When he finally got the dress off and tried to put the shirt on you, you suddenly had the energy to twist away.

"Wait, I changed my mind. I want the blue one."

"This is the blue one."

"The other blue one."

"You're wearing this one," Leon said firmly, catching you around the waist and wrestling the shirt over your head. You emerged from the neck hole with your hair sticking up in every direction, and he smoothed it down with a fond shake of his head.

The second you were dressed; you threw yourself backward onto the mattress, like a Victorian lady with a fainting spell. You flung one arm over your eyes; the back of your other hand pressed to your forehead.

"My husband doesn't love me anymore. He's so mean. He forces me to drink water and wear shirts to bed. And he won't ravish me like I know he wants to."

Leon couldn't help but laugh, if there was one thing his wife was when she was drunk, it was honest.

"Sooo tragic," you continued, your voice dripping with drama. "Death from no Snu-Snu."

You peeked out from under your arm to watch as he pulled his own shirt off to get ready for bed, and the entire act you had put on crumbled instantly. Your eyes went wide, tracking the movement of fabric up his torso, over his shoulders. You attempted a whistle, what came out was more of a pathetic swoosh of air with no substance. You tried again, pursing your lips with intense concentration. This time nothing came out at all, you looked like you were trying to blow out candles on an invisible birthday cake, your cheeks puffing out uselessly.

"Are you done?" Leon asked in amusement as he watched your increasingly desperate attempts. You tried one final time, producing what one might call a raspberry, and that was apparently his limit. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked, rolling you up in it like a burrito before you could even protest. You let out a muffled "Hey!" as he climbed in behind you and pulled you flush against his bare chest, wrapping both of you in the cocoon of blankets.

"Just go to sleep, baby." he murmured against your hair, his arm curled around your waist.

You wanted to say how much you loved him or how the joke was on him because this was exactly where you wanted to be, but the words were stuck in your throat as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. The room was soft and fuzzy around the edges of your vision, and his heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, you were so comfortable, so safe, so...

A soft snore escaped you as you finally closed your eyes, tucked safely in Leon’s arms. Leon pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his own eyes drifting closed, a soft smile still on his lips.

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