ry

Music pumps through your ears and alcohol courses through your veins as you lean on your elbows against the wooden bartop. Even though she’s standing right next to you, you can barely hear Ashley’s laughter over the sounds of the bass bumping and the overlapping conversations from the other hundred or so clubgoers. Your body is abuzz, and you can’t really feel your face. You can’t really feel your feet in your heels either, evident as you stumble to the side.

“Oh, sorry!”

You were back to talking with Ashley before Leon even spoke the words, “it’s fine.” He shook his head and took another sip of his club soda with lime, staring at the wall while he tried to remember why on earth he agreed to be here. 

Being the designated driver for her and you feels a whole lot like babysitting. A feeling that’s becoming a trend whenever he hangs out with Ashley, actually. He’d declined being added to her security detail after Spain, but on nights like this, it’s like she’d crafted a loophole to make him exactly that. But he had to protect her from herself more than anything as she ordered drink after drink after drink while he sat there like a hostage to witness your drunken antics. 

Those antics suddenly included you and Ashley making out, apparently. 

He snapped his head forward to avert his gaze, feeling like he saw a private moment even though you were as in public as humanly possible. But averting his eyes did absolutely nothing; you were nearly shoulder to shoulder with Leon, so close that he could feel the energy radiating from you, clinging to him like uncomfortable humidity. 

The kiss was scorching hot, and Leon sat close enough for it to burn him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the air became hard to breathe. 

You sat backwards on your barstool, wrists draped over Ashley’s shoulders, still holding your cocktail as you kissed. Ashley’s elbow bumped into Leon as she held your face to deepen it, and he felt the flush creeping up his chest. He could feel dozens of eyes on you. He even heard some asshole whistle to cheer you on. But you and Ashley paid no mind at all to the spotlight you’d put on yourselves, and Leon took on the burden, feeling like a deer in the headlights.

When you finally broke away from each other, the heat creeped up to Leon’s ears as they heard the conversation that followed. 

“Soooo..? Still think you’re straight?”

“I don’t know!” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

You both broke out into a fit of drunken laughter. 

Leon tried to keep his face casual as he heard you talk about it like the most casual thing in the world; this sure didn’t feel like a casual situation to him. It felt fucking charged.

“Hold on— bartender?” Ashley leaned over you to get their attention, impatiently biting her bottom lip as she waited for them to come over. “Two tequila shots, top shelf!”

The bartender left before Leon could interject. You two were plenty drunk enough already, and you were making increasingly bad decisions. 

In the blink of an eye, you had the shot glass between your breasts, held in by your low-cut top as you squeezed your elbows together. Leon had no fucking idea how Ashley had enough coordination to successfully take the glass in her mouth, and it equally shocked him that she didn’t choke on the liquor as she stood and took it with her, tipping her head back to drink it down without once using her hands. 

His mind went blank as you slurred, “you gotta lil on your chin,”  and licked it off the corner of Ashley’s mouth, and her tongue darted out to catch yours in a sensual exchange. 

He could’ve fainted from astonishment when Ashley cooed, “I spilled a lil on ya too,” and licked a long, flat-tongued stripe to your cleavage. 

He pushed Ashley off of you without even thinking about it, keeping his grip on her shoulder to keep her upright as she staggered back a step. 

“We’re in public,” Leon said bluntly, looking between you two in consternation, pleading with his eyes that you stop making a scene. But to his frustration, he didn’t get a response. Instead, a lightbulb went off over Ashley’s head as she turned to look at you, and before Leon could say anything else, she grabbed you by the wrist and you both skipped away, slipping through the crowd and into the women’s room. 

Leon dug his palms into his eye sockets and grumbled over the bar. He would actually rather be shotgunning bioweapons into nothing but brain matter than dealing with this tonight. And that said a lot. 

It’s not like he personally gave a fuck if two girls made out in a bar, and he didn’t even personally care about those two girls being you and Ashley. But unfortunately, he has to care. He works directly under Ashley’s dad, the literal fucking president of these United States. He could already see tomorrow’s tabloid headlines, complete with a blurry picture of you and Ashley tongue-deep in each other’s mouths while he sat inches away, and he could already hear President Graham reaming him for letting a political PR scandal unfold under his watch. 

But gossip articles about the First Daughter exploring her sexuality would be one thing. People would talk, but it would be fine. It’d easily be spun in a positive way, actually, earning the Oval Office kudos for queer inclusivity. What’d be a lot less than fine? The First Daughter getting thrown out of a nightclub for having sex in the bathroom, which he was pretty fucking certain was happening at this very moment.  

But what he does personally care about that’s even less fine than all of that...? The fact that his cock is straining painfully against the unforgiving fabric of his jeans. 

It completely blindsided him. He’s never been attracted to Ashley before. Why now? Probably because watching her practically motorboat her ridiculously hot friend made him see her in a whole new light. 

Still, Ashley’s the most off-limits a person could possibly be to him, and your attraction to women has been tonight’s recurring topic of conversation, so making a fool out of himself by flirting with you isn’t something he’s considering. 

It’s time to tab out, he decides. He takes out his card and taps it anxiously against the bartop and can only think of two things while he waits: the mental image of you and Ashley half-naked and knuckle-deep in the bathroom twenty feet away, and that his only relief tonight will come from his left hand.

He pays. He finishes his drink. The ice melts. He drinks that, too. He wonders how long he should wait before he pulls you out of there himself, and the idea makes him panic. He starts to feel like his kindness of agreeing to DD has been totally taken advantage of, and it pushes his frustration to the brink of outright anger. 

He watches the baseball game rerunning on the TV behind the bar. His watch strikes one AM. He’s had enough of watching the Yankees win, and he’s done waiting around. 

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

“We really put on a show for him, huh? D’ya think it worked?” 

“Oh yeah. S’pretty obvious through those tight ass jeans he’s got.” 

Ashley hums in consideration and melts further into the partition she’s leaning back against as she stands in the bathroom stall, head lolling to the side as her thoughts swim behind her eyelids. 

“I dunno. Think we made ‘im mad.”

“Mad?” You lick a slow, wet stripe across the length of her cunt between words, flicking the point of your tongue over her clit on the way up, smiling as her fingers tighten in your hair. “Or riled up?”

“Fuck, do that again.”

You dive back in, suckling on her clit until she twitches and then lapping between her folds briefly before focusing back on her clit again. You can feel her stomach and her thighs tightening under your grip as her breath gets more and more ragged. 

You’ve been trying to be quiet at least, but you can feel her slim body tightening under your hands, can hear her breathing become more and more ragged, and as she gets closer and closer to cumming for you like this, you can’t help the wet noises your mouth makes against her dripping heat, and you’re too far gone to care. The other people in the bathroom are talking loud enough that there’s a chance they might not hear you. If they do, there’s no sign that they care, so you don’t have a reason to either. 

Ashley can’t hold back much either, and her pants turn into whines that turn into needy mewls, the most beautiful, pitiful sound you’ve ever fucking heard. She starts grinding into your face in search of release and you gladly let her, kneeling there with your tongue out wide, gripping her hips to keep her up on her shaky legs. 

“M’so close… please, I need… oh… ugh, I don’t think I can, I just…”

You look up and see her face screwed up tight in a face that doesn’t seem quite right. You pull away from her.

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just… I don’t think I can like this,” she half-whispers. 

You wipe her slick off of your chin as you stand and steady yourself on the opposite side of the stall, mirroring her posture as you lean back. You give her space as you both catch your breath, watching to make sure she’s not uncomfortable or if she needs to puke or something. 

She makes a frustrated sound as she smooths her skirt back down over her hips, and then she speaks again. 

“Maybe I’m not that into girls,” she shrugs. 

Then her eyes meet yours, and you’ve been friends for so long that nothing needs to be said to know the irony wasn’t lost on either of you. You both break into giggles at the exact same time.

“Shut up,” she basically squeals, covering the blush on her face with her hands, but not at all covering her smile. 

“No, no, it’s fine, really,” you reassure her. “You need anything?” 

She responds to the question by pressing her palms into her eyes and groaning at the ceiling. Then she drops them dramatically and laments by mouthing the words, “some dick.” 

You haphazardly smooth out her hair and whisper, “then let’s go get you some, he’s out there waiting!” 

She pouts while she bends down to pull her underwear up from her knees. “But howww?” she whines. “He seems more interested in you, anyway.” 

“Wait, really?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

She finishes putting herself back together with a huff before pausing to look at you. Your eyes narrow as a smirk pulls on the corners of your lips.

“I have an idea if you’re down to share.” 

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Leon paces in the bathroom hall nervously, trying not to look like an absolute creep as his head shoots up each time someone leaves the women’s room. The clock is creeping towards last call, and it won’t be long before he has no choice but to ask a stranger to fetch you. But in the event you two really are in there fucking, getting you caught is the last thing he wants to do. At this point it might actually be better if you stay in there until the patrons clear out and he can yell in there himself without worrying too much. 

Just as he’s about to pull out his hair, you finally emerge. Every word he wants to yell dies in his throat as soon as he sees you. 

Oh, you were definitely fucking in there. 

Ashley’s clothes are definitely not on as they were. Her top is tucked unevenly and off-center into her skirt, which is sitting a noticeable inch higher on her waist. And her hair, which usually manages to stay perfectly styled even in the most chaotic situations, is frizzy on the back of her head. 

And you? Your lips are puffy and pink. Your hair is tucked messily behind your ears. Your knees are indented red like you’d been on them for an hour. Your mascara is smudged around your eyes, making them look doll-like as you look up at him with your irises blown wide. 

Just as he thought his boner was gone for good, it twitches back to life, and although it makes him angry and incredulous all over again, it steals blood from his brain that he could better use to find the words to scold you. Instead, he speaks as firmly and bluntly as possible.

“It’s time to go.” 

You and Ashley pout as you scamper over to him, complaining like petulant children. His eye twitches as each of you grab onto either one of his arms, winding your hands around his biceps and leaning into his side. When he looks down and sees Ashley’s fake little innocent smile and your tits squished up against his arm, the words die in his throat all over again. 

He’s trying to walk as fast as possible down the city street to his car, but it’s a chore in and of itself. It’s like you’re taking turns getting your heels caught in the seams of the sidewalk and stumbling back into him, pushing him to the side which sends the other tottering away. He has no choice but to put an arm around your waists to anchor you to him. He imagines how he must look to the other passerby, and it makes his head feel hot.

The whole time you’re giggling to yourselves and talking across his chest like it’s a dinner table. Your laughs ring out like chimes in the night air, your voices keep rising to a girlish pitch and then down to a sultry purr. Your hands are squeezing his arm muscles while Ashley rests her head on his shoulder. He can smell the alcohol mixing with your perfumes, and he’s really trying to ignore the unmistakable smell of sex that’s lurking in the undernotes. 

You bring up your ex boyfriend and the information lands in his head like lightning, frying his whole perception of you. He might actually have a shot. 

Nope. He can’t think about that. It’s beyond too late to flirt with you. You just had sex with the other girl in his arms and you’re way too drunk to consent. 

The contradiction of that last thought nearly makes him grimace out loud. 

He sees his car and he’s never fumbled for his keys faster. He sighs in relief when you detach from him and skip ahead to the lights that blink when he unlocks it. His chest tightens as you debate who gets to ride shotgun, and he feels a weight lifted from his shoulders when you both climb into the backseat. 

He puts his hand on the door handle and pauses. Looking up at the night sky, he asks the stars to guide him safely to the end of this horrible night. He subtly adjusts himself in his jeans, and then he finds the courage to open the door and get behind the wheel. 

“Seatbelts.” 

You and Ashley keep talking amongst each other, not acknowledging his command, but he eventually hears two seatbelts click and peels off towards the highway. 

This is it, the home stretch. If only Ashley didn’t live all the way in the goddamn suburbs. 

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Your head bounces with each bump on the asphalt as you watch the city lights float by. You love the city like this. Late enough that the city is asleep, to pretend that it’s only inhabited by you and your current company in the private domain of a near stranger’s car. 

Well, you were more of a stranger to Leon than vice versa. You’d heard plenty about him from Ashley and he certainly lived up to her descriptions. Paired with the alcohol swimming in your stomach and the lack of release after your little bathroom bar activities, you were worried you’d soak through your skirt. 

You bit your lip and looked at Ashley, and she looked equally ready to pounce. It was time to get this show on the road. 

“So, Ashley…” you began. “Are you still sleeping with that one guy?”

She shrugged and played her part. “Nah. He was really small.”

“Ugh, seriously? But he was the tall one, wasn’t he?”

“Yep. Can’t judge a book by its shoe size, apparently.” 

“But I mean, if he knows how to use it, right…?” 

“Pfft, I’ve never met anyone who said a guy can use three inches right.” 

You let out a shocked noise and you broke out into laughs. Then you turned your attention to the seat in front of you.

“You’re a guy, what do you think, Leon?” 

You watched him through the rear view mirror, eyes catching briefly as he knit his brows and blinked.

“What?” 

You leaned forward, keeping his gaze as it darted between you and the road ahead.

“Does size matter?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle a wicked grin as he choked on air, shaking his head a bit as the bluntness caught him off guard. 

“I— I don’t know, that’s not— jesus…”

You sat back pleased as he trailed off, unable to come up with an answer. 

Ashley kicked her feet up onto the center console, crossing her ankles right next to where he rested his elbow, toeing the back of his arm as she spoke.

“I bet you’ve never had to worry ‘bout that, huh?”

He yanked his arm away from her teasing and rubbed his face before white knuckling the wheel, lips pursed tight and speedometer climbing. God, watching him squirm was a lot of fun.

You didn’t wait for him to answer, you turned right on back to Ashley. 

“So did I convert you tonight or what?”

Ashley hummed and pretended to think. “I don’t know… I mean, you’re a really good kisser…”

You leaned in a little closer to her. “Yeah?”

“…and you have the prettiest pussy…” 

She met you over the middle seat, so close your noses nearly rubbed as you smirked at each other. 

“But…?”

“…But you did all the work. I didn’t get to taste you.”

You gasped dramatically, then purred against her lips. 

“How rude of me. Eating my fill while you went hungry… how can I make it up to you, princess?” 

“You can start by…” 

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Leon is seconds away from blowing a gasket or driving into the guard rail. He doesn’t know what to do. 

Two of the hottest women he’s ever met are heavy petting in the backseat of his car. It’s too dark to see exactly what’s happening in the rear view, and he’s speeding too much to risk looking behind him. All he can see are arms and legs moving around indistinctly, and all he can hear are your moans in between the soft smacks of your lips. 

It’s getting increasingly difficult to stay between the white lines and increasingly difficult to keep his mouth shut. A bar bathroom is one thing, but this is his fucking car. 

A particularly needy moan leaves your throat, and he’s pretty sure you’ve moved on from kissing. 

He’s trying to ignore it. Trying not to count the miles still remaining, trying not to keep glancing at the rearview mirror and wondering whose limb he’s looking at and what exactly they’re doing. Trying not to imagine Ashley going down on you while he goes 85 mph on the highway, what your face would look like, what your voice would sound like as you came, trying not to wonder if he turned the radio up, if he could get away with palming himself through his jeans for some fucking relief. 

He’s trying not to ruin your girl’s night, too, despite it all. He doesn’t want to lose his temper, to ream you like a parent. He’s held on this long. Only twenty-five miles to go. 

He still has twenty-five miles to go. 

He’s sweating through his hoodie at the effort it takes to keep himself contained. When he hears the seatbelts unfasten, he snaps. 

In seconds flat, the turn signal is on, the brake pedal is on the floor, and he’s yanking open the back door on the side of the highway. 

Your back had been against the door and you yelp as you nearly tumble through, holding onto Ashley’s arms as you now lie flat on your back. The cool night air blows against your kiss-flushed face as your head hangs off the side of the seat, and you’re delighted to be met with a full frontal view of Leon’s hips as he stands there barking demands.

“Seatbelts.”

You smile up at Leon from below. He does not smile back. 

“Put your goddamn seatbelts on. Now.” 

You feel Ashley arch her back as she straddles you, laying her girlish charms on thick for him as she pouts and bats her lashes. 

“Oh come onnn, we’re just having a little fun, Leon—”

That does just the trick to push him over the edge. 

“You’re having fun, I sure as hell am not. Sit the fuck down so I can take you home and be done with this shit, you’re both acting like fucking brats.”

He’s wearing a full-on snarl as he rants and pushes Ashley off of your lap, haphazardly leaning over you to try and yank her seatbelt back on for her. He’s doing a decent job of avoiding his crotch going into your face, but with how he’s kneeling on the floor, he’s halfway in the backseat already. All you’d have to do to bring him fully inside is hook your fingers in his belt loops and pull the car door shut behind him.

So that’s exactly what you do.

“What the—“

He’s suddenly wide-eyed and scrambling not to crash into Ashley, but she tugs on his hoodie to keep him right there in front of her. By the time you scramble to sit upright, wrap your arms around his chest, and kiss along his neck, Ashley’s mouth is traveling along the other side of his jaw. 

Leon is frozen in place, hands hovering in the air as his brain scrambles, stuttering protests through his heartbeat in his throat. 

“What are you— no, Ashley, your— you’re drunk, and y-your dad—”

You ignore him, smiling against his pulse point you’ve made wet with kisses as you run your hands under his hoodie, feeling him tense and inhale sharply as your hands move up the warm, firm muscles of his torso. 

“You’re right, Ash, he is cut.” 

Her hands graze against yours as she gathers the front of his hoodie and t-shirt.

“Just wait ‘til you see them.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s shirtless, the upper half of his clothing tossed somewhere forgotten in the front seat. The sight of his back muscles alone stokes the fire in you to a scorching blaze, and you push him back by the shoulder until his back is against the middle seat. 

You and Ashley pounce on Leon as a single unit, hip to hip as you straddle each of his thighs, hands and mouths traversing every inch of him. You’re in heaven as you feel up his brawniness, you can’t resist the urge to nip at his pec while one hand skims his abs and the other weaves into his hair. 

And the best part of all? The sounds he’s making. He’s gasping breathlessly as he twitches under your dual touches, throat bobbing as he tries to swallow the weak grunts in his throat. He’s still trying to tell you to stop, but he’s failing miserably to come across as even slightly assertive.

“We… I can’t, this isn’t—“ he gulps thickly “—it’s not right, you’re… you’re both way too drunk, I need… to get you home.”

Ashley purrs like a devil in his ear as she guides his hand to rest on her ass under her skirt. “You could easily push us off… but you’re not.”

You lick a strip up his torso and add, “clearly you want us,” as you grip his hardness through his jeans. 

Leon looks like the air got knocked out of his lungs as you squeeze it. You salivate at the size of it in your hand, feeling his hips jolt forward and his cock throb under your touch. You seize his other hand to fix it to your breast and sit back to watch. 

You unconsciously start grinding yourself on his thigh, sighing at the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your underwear under your skirt. Ashley had already been doing the same, her skirt already bunched at her waist from when you and her had been making out, giving you a full view of her ass as she rocks on him. Leon’s hand is still on her hip, grabbing tight without her even holding it there, and you look back at him with a raised eyebrow as if to say, caught ya. 

He has the most pitiful look on his face when his eyes lock with yours. His mouth is parted as he pants, his eyelids are low and his pupils are blown wide, brows curled up as if to plead with you. It stirs something dark in your gut, but it’s void of any of the mercy he wished for. 

You rub his bulge with a firm grip as you lean in, your lips ghosting over his as you coo, looking straight into his eyes. 

“Just let us fuck you.” 

Leon’s only response is a whine as Ashley’s hand joins yours. You close the distance and take him in a searing, sultry kiss, and the second your tongue meets his, he moans— the sound a starting bell for Ashley to tug him free of his jeans in a flurry. 

You devour every sound that escapes him as his cock springs free and meets the heady air of his car, shifting slightly to allow Ashley to push his jeans and boxers to his knees at once. He’s shaking and still trying so hard not to give in, squeezing your breast tight in his big hand to hold onto something. 

You’re only distantly aware of Ashley’s movements until Leon breaks the kiss with a choking sound. You follow his gaze down to see Ashley looking up at him with doe eyes as she licks a stripe up his cock, tongue circling around the tip as she holds him by the base with delicate fingers. She’s arched on all fours across the seats, wiggling her ass in the air while she wraps her lips around the head like a taunt. 

You look back at Leon with a smirk, and it’s like it all really clicks for him as you hold his gaze all the way down until you’re mirroring Ashley. His breathing grows more rapid each time he looks between you, chanting, “oh god, oh god,” under his breath.

Ashley pulls off of him with a lustful sigh, and you replace her lips with your own. Leon’s hips twitch when you hum around the taste of his precum and Ashley’s spit as you bob your head around his cock once, twice, three times, and then trade off with her again. 

You pull his thighs a touch farther apart and crane your neck to lick his balls while Ashley fixes her lips around the head of his cock, and for the first time, his groan sounds less restrained. Your toes curl in your heels at the sound and it encourages you to move deeper in, sucking one fully into your mouth. 

Ashley’s chin hits the top of your head softly with each up and down motion, and you get out of her way by joining her, licking a wet strip up the side of his shaft until your mouth reaches Ashley’s. You exchange a short, sloppy kiss, and Leon’s breath hitches as his cock becomes momentarily forgotten, only to be overwhelmed the next second as you and her take each side of his shaft between your plump, wet lips.

“Oh, holy fuck,” he groans, head falling back at the feeling before he watches with wide eyes. How could he look away? 

It’s the most unholy sight he’s ever seen in his life, your lips moving up and down either side of his cock in tandem, tongues darting out at different times to support the weight of his length or to run across his cock vein. You start moving out of sync in your eagerness, lewdly lapping and sucking wherever your mouths find, and his shaky hands fall on her back and your head as he succumbs to doing nothing but feel. 

But just as he got on the path of comfortability, things changed, and Ashley moved up to straddle him. You made room for her but kept your hand around him to pump his spit-slick shaft in a loose fist, twisting it as you rounded his head and squeezing at the base as she settled above it. 

He begged Ashley for his life as you pushed her panties to the side to line him up with her entrance. 

“Ash, we— fuck, we really shouldn’t, you know that, please, ahhh—“

Still, his nervous hands were resting on her hips, and you pushed up her skirt to gather the fabric in his hands, which he held without being told. 

“But you’ve been so hard all night…” Ashley said with an exaggerated sympathetic tone, arching back and forth to let his tip gather the wetness between her crease. 

“And you said you weren’t having any fun…” you added.

“We felt bad that we kept leaving you out.”

But all your pity was insincere, and Leon felt it as you shook his cock back and forth over Ashley’s clit, the action making both of them moan— and it was a knife you twisted further as you notched him against her entrance and held him there as Ashley slowly began to sink down. 

It was an incredible sight you had a front-row view of. The way her folds wrapped around him like petals on the way down, how her pussy gripped him on the way up, over and over, inch by inch. Your ears were filled with their contrasting sounds, hers of delight and relief, and his ragged and ripping out of his throat as he clamored, his fists bunching the fabric of her skirt impossibly tight in his hands.

“Ashley, oh— oh my god, fuck—“

“God, Leon, you feel so good… can’t believe you’ve held out on me for so long.”

You watched in an inebriated trance as she picked up speed, her wetness creating soft plap plap’s in the car and leaving a ring of cream around the base of his shaft. You couldn’t help yourself; you grabbed the meat of her ass to keep her from dropping back down on him and licked it off, all the way from his base to where her cunt stretched around him. 

Leon’s head shot forward in a silent scream, looking at you wildly over her shoulder, and Ashley wiggled her hips on him before bouncing shallowly to retain enough room for you to stay there. You kept his gaze as much as you could as you lapped her juices off him again. 

But Ashley understandably couldn’t be satisfied with taking a fraction of him for long, and ever the good friend, she couldn’t let you stay down there forever. 

“Leon, d’your back seats recline?”

You knew just what she had in mind, and you felt around the underside of the seats in the dark to search for a lever.

“Wha—“

“Found it.” 

You pulled it, and they fell back with a clunk; the back seats now opened up into his jeep's trunk, forming a sufficient enough bed for your purposes. The air ws pushed from Leon’s lungs as he suddenly found himself horizontal, and he was even more breathless as Ashley rode him again at once.

You crawled slowly and slinkily on all fours towards him, removing your shoes and underwear as you went, dragging your fingertips across his sculpted torso and up his neck until your face hovered over his. You pushed the stray stands of his hair out of his face with a gentle touch, and for a moment, you simply took him in. 

He looks so pretty and helpless as he shakes with the car’s suspension, with his eyes all unfocused as they flutter to meet yours. Every time his brows twitch tight together, which is every second or two as Ashley bounces on him steadily, his expression goes from softness to insanity. The tendons in his neck are tight as he tries to hold his noises within it, making his jawline even sharper, and all of his bone structure is accentuated by the shadows of the night. 

His face is too pretty. You just have to sit on it. So you do. 

You straddle his face and hold your skirt up, hovering over his lips as you watch him. He shatters into a lustful expression as he takes in the sight of your pussy, brows curled up with a groan, and you don’t miss the way his head lifts slightly off the floor and nearer to you. You tilt your head and keep yourself away— he’s just too much fun to toy with, especially as he hits his head back down and groans in frustration. 

“You want it?” 

He sighs shakily as he looks back up at you, grunting as Ashley bounces on him with an especially loud smack of their hips. He bites his lips and squeezes his eyes shut, too ashamed of himself to say yes out loud, but his frantic nod is clear.

You hold him tight by the bangs, the pain giving him just enough time to open his eyes before you say, “then eat up,” and sit right down on his mouth. 

You moan freely as he wastes no time in eagerly doing so, and jesus, you can feel how wet you are as his tongue passes between your folds to lap it up. His hands fly up to grasp your hips and pull you further down onto his face, and you let out a sharp gasp as he turns his attention to your clit, sucking the bud of nerves into the vacuum of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you say breathily, and whether you said it to him or to yourself is anyone’s guess. 

Your vision is still soft around the edges as the alcohol lingers in your bloodstream, making you just uninhibited enough to not be shy about what’s happening, and that it’s happening while a steady rhythm of plap plap’s sound as your best friend gets off on him behind you. 

You cover his hands with your own as he goes back to tonguing the whole of your dripping cunt, using his strong arms to balance yourself as your eyes roll back in your head. The darkness behind your eyelids spin in your tipsy state, and the next time he delivers the point of his tongue to curled your clit, your thighs twitch hard and you nearly topple forward. 

Ashley, ever a good friend, catches you by the arm. You look back at her over your shoulder, laughing airily as you lock eyes with her. But your blissful little smile is wiped off your face as she slows her movements on top of him to lean forward and takes you in a kiss. 

It’s fleeting; at this angle you strain to meet her lips. You take the natural solution, and as quickly as possible, you turn yourself around to face her, only stealing a quick glance between your legs to make sure you’re sitting back down on Leon’s waiting tongue before kissing Ashley full and open mouthed. 

Cars fly by on the highway as you curl your hips up and down Leon’s tongue, the headlights flashing quick bursts of light into the car. Leon tenses under you, his hands that are kneading your ass tightening each time, and you separate from Ashley’s kiss to grind back on him in response. When you look forward again, you wonder why you ever looked anywhere else since this began. 

Ashley looked straight out of a porno Girls Gone Wild would pay millions to get on tape, and here it was, right in front of your eyes. Her hair is untucked from her ears, falling over her face that glows with sweat and the glitter remnants of her lip gloss, her eyes half lidded and her plush lips open through her moans. Perched forward on her arms, her bare breasts are squeezed together and they rock back and forth with each bounce on Leon’s cock.bAnd holy shit, the way his cock looks disappearing in and out of her, glistening where the moonlight catches the slick that covers it. 

Ashley sees you staring and leans back, holding Leon’s legs behind her as she rides him with her knees wide, giving you a full display of her tight, pink pussy gripping his girth as she continues.  

She stills for a moment, looks down at where their bodies connect, and then back up at you with a sultry dark glint in her eye.

“Go ahead.”

Your heart races until it clicks, and then you’re immediately on all fours to lick a long, wet stripe from the base of Leon’s cock all the way up to her clit. 

It is by far the most insane, utterly indecent thing you’ve ever done, and you go wild.

Ashley starts slowly riding him, not going too fast so your tongue can catch everywhere it wants to roam. Leon’s legs squirm and you feel his chest rise and fall under you from how hard he’s breathing, both from Ashley’s torturously slow pace and at the sensation he can only feel, not see. The rumble of his muffled sounds goes straight to your cunt as you grind back on his face. 

And fuck, their skin tastes so good together, and they look so good together, and you’re catching her sweet, thick juices off the veins of his cock. It’s all more than enough to make your thighs tighten around Leon’s face. His fingers are searing into the soft flesh of your ass, but you don’t quite think you’re suffocating him, and you don’t really care. All you care about is catching Ashley’s clit in your mouth and keeping it there to make those pretty sounds bounce off the interior of Leon’s car. 

She bucks into your mouth with a gasp when you find it, and you don’t have to be the one inside of her to feel the way her walls are clenching at the feeling. You hold her thigh as she sits all the way down on Leon, stuffed full, only the very base of his cock visible as she grinds firmly on him. Her moans get more and more desperate as she chases a high you’re dead-set on delivering. 

But she isn’t the only one who’s feverishly close. Leon pushes you off of him an inch, just enough to breathe and just enough to speak. 

“Fuck, ahh, ahh, please move, you’re gonna fucking kill me—“

You shut him up by lowering down on him, riding his tongue just as eagerly as you use your own on Ashley. His flat tongue feels like velvet friction against your clit, and hers is silken against your mouth, and all around you is the heady, sweet scent of sex.

Leon’s hips buck upwards, but she only fixes down on him further as her orgasm mounts, holding you by the hair as Ashley ruts deep onto him and into your mouth. Each movement becomes more shaky and each breath becomes more hitched as she cries out louder and louder until—

“There, there, oh fuck yes, yes—“

You feel her pleasure snap under your touch with shaky thighs and a high pitched melody of moans, and you devour every ounce of slick that gushes from her and onto the base of Leon’s cock with a wild tongue around them both. You groan at the sweet taste of it and just how much there was, knowing you caused it, and knowing your lappings are causing Leon’s pained sounds just as much as Ashley pulsing around him with each wave of her pleasure. 

Her hips twitch away from you and you look up at her through your lashes with a smile, one which she returns until you land a sharp lick on her oversensitive clit and she reflexively jolts away. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Leon whines in frustration as Ashley dismounts with a satisfied hum. 

You look down at his cock as it lands wet, heavy and throbbing dark pink against his stomach. You glance at Ashley and see her sitting back against the car door, still catching her breath as she watches you with a dizzy, blissful expression.

“You gotta try him,” she says, wiping away the sweat where it makes her bangs stick to her forehead. 

You don’t need any more encouragement than that. Before Leon even registers it, you flip around on him, line him up with your entrance, and watch his face shatter as you lower down. 

He’s big, feeling even bigger than he looks, but at this point you’re so wet, both from the anticipation and from his spit. Added with Ashley’s cum still covering his cock, it glides in like fine silk, and there’s no other way to describe it but luxurious.

His face shatters as you do, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he watches you take him in with pure bliss, then turning into a slew of profanities and low sighs as you start to move. He rests his hands on the tops of your thighs as you ride him steadily, his head tipping back hard and his throat bobbing as he tries to swallow his sounds to no avail. 

You lean forward and brace yourself with both hands on his firm chest, soaking up the fact that you’re riding a man who’s this gorgeous. You pick up speed and his head lolls until his blown eyes lock with yours. You hold it, intentionally landing yourself down onto him hard just to watch him struggle through a groan of pleasure as he hits you deep, but you wouldn’t ignore his reactions if you were paid to. 

“Yeah? You like that?” 

You do it again, and again, just to watch him break down. 

Ashley leans forward, sitting elegantly with her legs sideways as she runs her fingers down his jaw to guide his gaze towards her.

“You like being used like a toy?” she purrs. His eyes roll back before glazing over you and then back to her when she gently shakes his jaw in her delicate hand. “C’mon, tell us.”

You feel your own pleasure mount as you watch her tease him. Every time you bottom out, his body smacks against your sensitive clit and his cock roughs over the deepest, most incredible spots inside of your tight walls, sending the most intense sensations through you from the inside out. Each new rebound onto him multiplies the feeling, and each small thrust as he tries to meet your pace creates a new crack in your smoky gaze. 

Suddenly, your desperation to cum is written all over your face, contorting into pleasure as you call wantonly for both of them.

“Ohh fuck, Ash—” you inhale deeply as you find a slightly faster rhythm and a new, deeper angle, “—M’close Leon, please…”

Your brain scrambles with each new stroke of his cock stretching your entrance and passing over your sweet spot. Your focus gets pulled towards maintaining your balance and your burning thigh muscles, but you keep riding him through it to chase the high it promises. But despite it all, you linger on the brink of orgasm, unable to ascend any further, and you’re unable to think straight as you remain right there on the edge. 

Luckily, Ashley does the thinking for you. With one hand on the back of each of your heads, she draws you and Leon towards each other. As you become face-to-face with him, your arms buckle under you; he instinctively wraps a steadying arm around your waist, keeping your torsos flush as he props himself up on one elbow. 

Leon doesn’t need to be told what to do; his body acts for him, fucking his cock into you from below. You can feel his abs flex against the soft skin of your stomach with each thrust he sends upwards into your cunt, and your lips drag against his neck as your mouth falls open into a lilting moan. 

But Ashley still isn’t done; you’re cradled in his arms only momentarily before she guides you away from him just enough to steer his mouth down below your collarbone. 

“You’ve been staring at her tits all night; C’mon, give ‘em the attention they need, Leon.”

He catches your swinging breast between his lips, pressing his face into the supple skin and sucking it into the vacuum of his mouth to keep it there as his pace increases. Your toes curl as he laves his tongue around your nipple, and you grip hard onto his delts as the feeling compounds with his powerful thrusts. 

His tongue, cock, and whines all become wild as his control fractures, and you grip his hair just as tight as his hands grasp onto your waist. Your surroundings become a blur as your pleasure flares into a bright inner heat, and you’re only aware of Leon speaking because he detaches from your breast to do so. 

“Fuck, gonna cum, where should I—”

You hold tight to the back of his head to push his mouth back to your breast, needing the feeling as you totter desperately within reach of your orgasm. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, your voice high-pitched and airy as stars appear in your eyes. Then Ashley’s plump lips capture yours in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, and as your eyes close, you’re lost in a world of utter feeling.

You know what’s bound to happen next, and you know it isn’t responsible. But you’d rather risk it than make him pull out right as your pleasure begins to boil over. More than that, him cumming inside of you is precisely what pushes you over the edge. 

Leon gives a final warning, but you don’t change your mind in the slightest. 

“I’m gonna— gonna cum, fuck, fuck—“

Your lips break from Ashley’s as your own orgasm crashes through your body, and if it weren’t for Leon holding you flush to him, you’re sure you would’ve toppled over by the force of it. Your whole body seizes in waves, and your cunt throbs as it releases around Leon’s pistoning cock.

And Leon, he just keeps on going, his pace frantic as you both release in time with each other. And from the sounds and sensations coming from between your thighs, it’s making a mess. 

You’re wound tight around him, and combined with his firm but erratic thrusts in and out of your gushing cunt, your slick mixes with his cum and leaks out all over the both of you. Each snap of his hips draws out more sopping slick and the sound cracks wetly in the car, undeniably perverse as it sets the rhythm your moans follow. 

You both come down in heaving breaths and sweaty skin, and you don’t detach until you feel that he’s gone soft. He’d been laying under you in a daze until you raise your hips, and he hisses as his soaked cock hits his stomach. 

You look down between your bodies and swear under your breath as you watch more of his cum drip from you like white sap and land on his spent cock, further covering it in a beautiful layer of filth.

“Holy shit, you came so much, Leon.”

Ashley’s hand glides soothing down the curve of your spine, her gaze following down until she sees it, her green eyes going wide at the sight. 

“Oh my god, he so did,” she remarks before looking back at Leon with a coy smile. “You really liked us that much, huh?”

Leon’s eyes pinch tight as he sighs like he’s annoyed, but the blush creeping up his face gives him away completely. He turns his head, but you still catch the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, too. 

You roll off of him and lay there with your body buzzing and sleepiness setting in. It sets in for Leon, too. 

Then, just as he got comfortable, reality hit Leon like cold water to the face.

He’s naked except for his jeans around his knees. 

His soft cock is covered in two women’s cum and a thick layer of his own as it sits in the suddenly cold-feeling air.

He’s laying back down in the back of his car with two naked women on the side of the highway. Ashley to one side, and you on the other.

Ashley’s naked except for her skirt and playing with his hair as he stares at the low ceiling.

Your head rests of his shoulder as you drift in the afterglow.

You’re stuffed full of his cum. 

He came inside you. 

He was supposed to get you both home safe, and instead, this.

He’s going to hell, and he’s totally fucking fired. 

He sits upright with a gasp, ignoring the tired groans from you both as he yanks his bottoms back in place, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness in them, too. He reaches around for his hoodie and grimaces every time he finds a handful of one of your clothes instead, throwing them behind him to both get the reminder out of sight and to toss them to you quickly. 

“Shit, get dressed, we have to go.”

Ashley scoffs beside you, lazily untangling her bra with no rush to put it on. 

“Pshh, whatever.”

You sigh at the lovely feeling of your sore muscles as you sit up, taking your top and putting it on as you look between them. You’re not bothered by Leon’s mad dash to get himself in order per se, but it’s in such contrast to Ashley that you’re waiting to see where it’ll go. 

He drags his hands hard over his face and shakes his head incredulously, looking out the windows in search of cop cars that aren’t there. 

“It’s almost three in the goddamn morning, I have to get you home, jesus fucking christ I’m so dead, holy shit…”

Leon’s rambling to himself mid freak out. You can’t lie, it’s kind of cute. He’s cute, especially with his lips still plump and swollen and his dark blond hair unknowingly askew, his bliss-blown eyes puppylike as they widen with anxiety. It makes you sit extra pretty once you’re done redressing yourself, legs folded under you and hands on your knees as you watch him stress with doe eyes, waiting for him to look back at you. 

“Why are you so stressed?” Ashley says as she puts on her socks slowly, drawing out the vowels in her little cloud of satisfaction. You can tell she’s poking his buttons on purpose, but he can’t. 

“Because,” Leon snaps before catching himself. His tone lowers as he continues, speaking in a mock whisper. “I work for your dad, the president, and we just—“ 

He’s cut off by nothing but his own labored breaths as he takes in the sight of you and Ashley before him. Like he’s adjusting to the reality of what just happened as if he didn’t live through it— didn’t whine and moan like a whore through it, too. 

But you both look oddly beautiful, despite how wrecked you look; the mix of the alcohol, car sex, and the late hours all showed on your faces, your previously polished appearances looking as tainted as you were, like succubi that now showed your true forms after hiding it under your angelicly tempting exteriors all night.

Fuck, you both looked so pretty. Even in the dark. Even drunk on shots and his cock alike. Especially that. 

Your breath caught as he suddenly leaned in, your lips parting slightly as he came towards you. Then you yelped as the seat sprung back upright. 

“Seatbelts,” he said bluntly, then quickly left to return to the driver’s seat. 

You looked at Ashley in a moment of tension, and as Leon got back on the highway, all you could do was giggle. 

The drive back to Ashley’s was quiet as drowsiness set in, your head leaned against the window as the city lights dimmed into suburban streetlights. You felt weighed down with lead as the car parked and you unbuckled yourself. You were really grateful that Leon spared you the effort of opening the car door. 

Sleep must have gotten to him too, as he was softer now, helping you and Ashley out with steadying hands. The three of you stumbled to her place tiredly, and Leon carried two pairs of heels in each hand. 

Ashley fumbled with her keys before turning the front door open. “It’s late, you can crash here if you want,” she offered to Leon.

“No, that’s alright. Your couch isn’t that comfortable anyways.”

“Kay. Goodnight,” Ashley said through a yawn, walking towards her room without once looking behind her. 

Leon set your heels down in the entryway without stepping a foot inside. You lingered at the door, leaning against it for support as you watched him step backwards and away, your eyes catching as he waited for you to speak.

“Goodnight, Leon. Thanks for a fun night.” 

“Yeah, uh… no problem,” he said sheepishly, his cheeks pinkening just a touch. “Go get some sleep.”

“Alright,” you smiled. “See you around.”

He stumbled for a response as he fumbled to get his keys out of his pocket. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

You wore a cheesy grin all the way to Ashley’s bed where you found her face down and passed out, and it stuck until the moment you fell asleep, floating in her fluffy blankets and feeling the slick between your legs, still dripping onto your thighs. You imagined Leon finding your underwear in his backseat in whatever corner they ended up in. 

Part of you hoped he got your number from Ashley to give them back. Another part of you kinda hoped he’d keep them. 

he has you come to his office sometimes. “need a hand with this paperwork, rookie,” he’ll grumble, not looking up from his monitor. and you’ll go, because you’re a good agent, and because you’re a masochist who craves the specific brand of pain only he can deliver. you’ll sit in the chair across from his massive desk, the same desk where he’d… well. you try not to think about that. you try not to think about a lot of things.

you’ll organize files, transcribe reports, and do the mindless administrative tasks that someone of his rank shouldn’t be touching. and the whole time, you’ll feel his presence like a physical weight. he’ll be right there, just a few feet away, the scent of his cologne and the low hum of his computer filling the space between you. but he won’t look at you. he’ll focus on his work with a single-minded intensity, his jaw set, his shoulders tense. he ignores you so thoroughly it feels like an art form. and every second of it is a fresh twist of the knife in your gut. the ache is a constant companion, a dull throb behind your ribs that reminds you that while the war might be over, you definitely didn’t win.

you’re just… there. a tool he uses when he needs to. a body he claims when the mood strikes.

and there’s valencia.

she’s the new golden girl, the rookie he’s actually training. you see them in the halls, in the training yard, in the briefing rooms. he’s with her in all the ways he used to be with you. he stands behind her at the range, his arms bracketing hers as he corrects her stance. you see him laugh at something she says, a real, genuine laugh that makes your stomach clench with a hot, ugly jealousy. he’s teaching her, mentoring her, giving her the attention and validation you’re starving for.

you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. it’s his job. you’re just a coworker. but the lie tastes like ash in your mouth.

the only time the truce is broken is at night, in the dark, behind the locked door of his apartment.

you practically live there now. it happened gradually, without a formal discussion. a toothbrush left in his bathroom. a drawer half-filled with your t-shirts and underwear. a spare key he’d tossed on the counter for you one morning with a gruff, “don’t lose it.” he never acknowledged the slow creep of your life into his space. he didn’t seem to care. or maybe, more accurately, he just didn’t bother to notice.

tonight was one of those nights. a long, grueling day of paperwork and watching him with valencia had left you feeling raw and empty. he’d taken you home, and the second the door was closed, he’d pushed you against it, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was more about possession than affection. he’d fucked you on the kitchen counter, then in the shower, and finally, for hours in his bed, until you were both boneless and slick with sweat, the sheets a tangled mess around you. it was rough and desperate and everything you needed to forget the day.

now, in the dead of night, the silence of his apartment is absolute. the only light is the faint, blue-white glow of the city filtering through the blinds of his bedroom window. he’s asleep beside you, a dead weight of warm, solid muscle. his breathing is deep and even, a peaceful rhythm that should be comforting.

but you’re not at peace. you’re trapped in the labyrinth of your own mind.

you’re running.

the hallway is impossibly long, the walls stretching and warping like taffy. the dso headquarters is empty, a ghost ship adrift in a sea of fluorescent lighting. but you can hear him. his footsteps are heavy, measured, just ahead of you. you can’t see him, but you know he’s there.

“leon!” you call out, your voice thin and reedy.

you see him then, a flash of his dark tactical gear as he rounds a corner. you push your legs harder, your lungs burning, your worn boots slapping against the linoleum. you have to catch him. you have to.

you round the corner, skidding to a halt. he’s there, at the end of the hall, his back to you. he’s standing in front of a heavy, dark wood door. his office door.

“leon, please wait!” you plead, your voice cracking.

he doesn’t turn. he doesn’t acknowledge you. he just reaches out, his hand closing around the cold metal handle.

you try to run again, but your feet are stuck. you’re wading through invisible molasses, every step a monumental effort. you’re screaming his name now, a raw, desperate sound that doesn’t seem to make any noise.

he opens the door and steps inside.

“no, please, don’t leave me,” you whisper, the words finally escaping your throat, soft and pathetic.

the door clicks shut.

you finally break free, stumbling forward until you’re standing in front of it. his name is on the brass plaque, mocking you. leon s. kennedy. you reach for the handle, your hand trembling. you turn it.

it’s locked.

you rattle it, your desperation growing. you bang on the solid wood with your fists, the impacts jarring your bones. “leon! leon, please, open the door! don’t shut me out again!”

but there’s no answer. just silence. the crushing, absolute silence of being left behind. of being erased.

“please…”

the soft, choked plea is what wakes you up. it’s your own voice, thick with sleep and tears.

your eyes snap open. you’re in his bed. the room is dark, the air still. he’s still beside you, his breathing unchanged. it was just a dream. a stupid, pathetic dream.

but the feelings are real. the panic, the desperation, the gut-wrenching pain of being abandoned. they’re clinging to you like a second skin. hot shame floods your system, a burning wave that starts in your chest and spreads through your entire body. you’re so stupid. so fucking stupid for letting him get to you like this. for dreaming about him, for crying over him, when you’re nothing more than a warm body for him to use when he’s lonely. you’re not exclusive. you’re not anything.

tears you didn’t even know you were crying start to slide from the corners of your eyes, tracking hot paths down your temples and into your hair. you need to get away. you can’t let him see you like this. you can’t be this pathetic, weeping girl for him again.

carefully, silently, you begin to untangle yourself from the sheets. you move with painstaking slowness, trying not to make a sound, not to disturb the sleeping giant beside you. you manage to get your legs free and are just about to slip out of the bed when his breathing pattern changes.

it’s a subtle shift, a slight hitch in the rhythm. you freeze, your heart hammering against your ribs.

he’s awake.

you stay completely still, hoping, praying that he’ll just roll over and go back to sleep. but of course, he doesn’t. the silence stretches for a long, agonizing moment. then, you feel the mattress dip as he shifts his weight.

you squeeze your eyes shut and turn onto your side, your back facing him, curling into a tight ball. you hold your breath, trying to will your tears to stop. it’s no use. a fresh wave of them spills over, and a small, quiet choked sob escapes your lips.

you feel his hand, large and warm from sleep, land gently on your side, his palm resting on the curve of your hip. the simple, non-sexual touch is so unexpected, so tender, it feels like a brand. you flinch, but you don’t pull away. you can’t. you’re paralyzed by a confusing mix of shame and a desperate, pathetic longing for that very touch.

“hey,” his voice is a low, gravelly rumble, thick with sleep. “what’s wrong?”

you just shake your head against the pillow, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

“you were cryin’ out for me,” he says. it’s not a question. it’s a statement of fact. “talk to me, kid.”

“it was nothing,” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse and shaky. “just a bad dream. go back to sleep.”

you’re dismissing him. you know it’s a mistake the second the words leave your mouth. leon does not like to be dismissed. especially not by you. especially not in his own bed.

“bullshit,” he growls, the sleepiness gone from his voice, replaced by that familiar, stubborn edge.

before you can react, he’s moving. his arm snakes around your waist, and with a strength that is both terrifying and thrilling, he pulls you, forcing you to roll onto your back. he looms over you in the darkness, propped up on one elbow, his body caging you in. the faint city light outlines the hard lines of his face, his shoulders, his arms. even in the dimness, you can see that his expression is a thundercloud of concern and annoyance.

“don’t fuckin’ lie to me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

you stare up at him, your vision blurry with tears. you try to turn your head away, to hide the pathetic mess you’ve become, but he’s not having it. his free hand comes up, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“i wasn’t,” you insist weakly.

his thumb moves, wiping at the wet track of a tear on your cheek. the gesture is so soft, so caring, it shatters the last of your composure. a fresh sob breaks from your lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut, more tears leaking out. you bring your hands up to your face, trying to hide, to shield yourself from his intense gaze.

“hey, hey, none of that,” he murmurs, his voice softer, laced with a confusion that is almost comical. he’s so good at fighting monsters, but he’s completely out of his depth when it comes to your tears.

he pries your hands away from your face, his large hands easily enveloping yours. he holds them down on the mattress by your head. you’re completely vulnerable, pinned beneath him, your tear-streaked face exposed.

“just tell me what the dream was about,” he says, his tone somewhere between a command and a plea.

you shake your head, sniffling. “it’s stupid.”

“i don’t care if it’s stupid. tell me.”

you take a shaky breath, the air rattling in your lungs. you stare up at the ceiling, at the way the shadows play across the white paint. you can’t look at him while you say this. it’s too humiliating.

and then you start to blabber. the words just spill out of you, a frantic, incoherent torrent of your insecurities.

“it was just… you were there,” you begin, your voice small. “at the dso. and you were walking away from me. and i was trying to catch up to you, i was calling your name, but you just kept walking. and you went into your office, and you locked the door, and i couldn’t… couldn’t get to you. you just left me there.”

you pause, taking another shuddering breath. you wipe at your runny nose with the back of your free hand, a pathetic, childish gesture.

“and it’s so stupid, because it’s just a dream, but it felt so real. it felt like… it felt like how it feels now.” the last part is a whisper.

he’s silent for a long moment. you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. you risk a quick glance at him. his expression is unreadable in the dark, but you can see the muscle in his jaw working.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he finally asks, his voice tight.

“it means that even though we’re… we’re doing this again,” you say, gesturing vaguely at the bed, at the two of you, “it feels like you’re still a million miles away. it feels like you’re still punishing me. you ignore me all day at the office, you walk right past me like i’m not even there. you’re training valencia, and you’re laughing with her, and you’re giving her all the things you used to give me. and then you bring me here, and you fuck me until i can’t see straight, and for a few hours, it’s okay. but it’s not. it’s not okay. because i know that as soon as the sun comes up, you’re going to put that wall back up, and you’re going to be a million miles away again. and i’m just—i’m so tired of chasing you.”

the confession hangs in the air between you, heavy and fragile. you’ve said too much. you’ve laid all your pathetic, broken pieces at his feet. you brace yourself for the fallout. for him to get angry, to call you crazy, to tell you to get your shit and get out.

but he doesn’t do any of that.

he just watches you, his blue eyes searching your face in the dim light. you see a flicker of something in them. regret? pain? you can’t be sure. he lets go of your hands and moves closer, his body shifting on the mattress. he doesn’t get on top of you, but he moves so he’s lying on his side, facing you, his arm bracketing your head, his body a warm, solid line against yours.

“i’m not punishing you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a low, rough murmur near your ear.

“it feels like it,” you whisper, another tear slipping down your cheek.

he sighs, a heavy, weary sound. he reaches out, his thumb once again finding the tear track on your face, wiping it away with a gentleness that makes your heart ache.

“i know,” he says. “i’m… not good at this shit, kid. you know that.”

he’s admitting it. he’s actually admitting fault, in his own gruff, leon-kennedy way. the shock of it silences you.

“seeing you with that alex kid…” he starts, then stops, shaking his head as if angry with himself. “it fucked with my head. i saw red. and i didn’t know how to deal with it. so i shut down. it’s what i do.”

“you erased me,” you say, the words still full of hurt.

“i know,” he repeats, his voice softer, full of a self-loathing you’ve never heard from him before. “it was a dick move. i’m sorry.”

an apology. he’s actually apologizing. you don’t know what to do with it. you just stare at him, your mind reeling.

“i’m not… with valencia,” he says, as if reading your mind. “i’m training her. that’s it. it’s my job.”

“you laugh with her,” you accuse, the jealousy still a sharp sting.

a faint, humorless smile touches his lips. “she’s young like you. she says dumb shit. it’s not… like it is with you.”

he shifts closer, his forehead coming to rest against yours. his hand moves from your face to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding you gently. his other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against your own.

“no one is like it is with you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “you get under my skin in a way no one else does. it scares the absolute shit outta me.”

and there it is. the truth. the real reason for the silence, for the distance. it wasn’t just jealousy. it was fear. the great leon s. kennedy, the man who faced down armies of the undead without flinching, was scared of how he felt about you.

the realization is a balm on your raw, wounded soul. it doesn’t fix everything, but it’s a start. it’s more than you ever thought you’d get.

you let out a long, shuddering breath, the last of the tension finally leaving your body. you feel boneless, exhausted, but in a good way. you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in the warm, solid expanse of his chest. you breathe him in.

he holds you tighter, his hand gently messing with your hair. you lie there for a long time, wrapped in the darkness, your bodies pressed together. it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in weeks.

“‘m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “‘m not gonna lock you out.”

you look up at him, your eyes having adjusted to the dark. you can see his face clearly now. the hard lines are softened, the storm in his eyes has calmed. he looks tired, but he’s here. he’s with you.

“you promise?” you whisper, the word small and silly.

he leans down and kisses you. it’s not a desperate kiss from earlier. it’s deliberate, and soft, and full of all the words he can’t say. it’s a kiss that tastes like an apology, like a promise.

when he pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours.

“i promise, baby,” he says.

and for the first time in a long time, you believe him. you close your eyes, a real, genuine smile touching your lips as you snuggle closer against his warmth, safe in the arms of the man who was both your personal storm and your only shelter.

“Welcome, Leon. Have a seat.”

This place never seems to get any less suffocating. You know for a place that aims to heal whatever fucked up trauma you have, some colors in this office would’ve been nice. It’s not like Leon is an interior design enthusiast, not when he lived in an apartment with nothing other than a mattress to sleep on for the majority of his twenties. But he honestly would rather look at anywhere else other than at the therapist sitting in front of him.

He takes a seat on the black leathered chair next to her. Taking in a deep breath and reminding himself that this only a one hour, once a week thing and once he’s done, he’ll reward himself with a cold drink for being responsible.

Truth is, he was going to give himself that drink anyway. Because he deserves it, because life has fucked him in the ass so many times by now that even if he turned into a war criminal it would be justified. But he didn’t, not sure why though. Not like he had a loving childhood with parents who taught him right from wrong. Matter of fact his parents are the last people he would seek moral advice from, not like he can anyways. Not when they’re six feet below.

God, this is fucking depressing.

“So, how have we been?”

He chews the inside of his cheeks, and realizes how unnatural this whole concept is. Meeting someone once a week, expecting them to dump their entire life problems onto you as you scribble down your notes on your notepad before moving on to the next patient.

Leon is convinced that she shares everything he tells her over a glass of wine with her friends; he just can’t prove it—he can’t blame her either. Or maybe it’s just about the way she looks, the bob, the glasses—he swears that she looks like someone he went to high school with; just with lip fillers.

Her lips look awfully natural though. Ashley taught him how to tell the difference when they got lunch together the last time he saw her before she left to go to Sri Lanka. Apparently, they have beautiful landscapes there; but that’s about all he can remember from the conversation.

“…I’m guessing not so great?”

“Oh, no sorry. Um, yeah I’ve been good.”

She laughs, one of those fake laughs though—because she doesn’t believe him. He can say whatever he wants, but when his progress has been stagnant for the past few weeks it doesn’t take a degree to figure out that he’s lying.

But reality is, he isn’t—not this time at least. He’s been good, like better than usual, like he still has a very, very, manageable, no issue, got it under control drinking problem but other than that he’s doing amazing.

He’s been keeping busy, between work, and his workouts, and fucking his best friend’s daughter. Couldn’t pay him to say those few words out loud. He feels guilty, very guilty to the point where it makes him nauseous; but not guilty enough to stop him from doing it again.

He’d be lying if he said that you weren’t one of the few good things to happen to him, even if you come with a price. Everything in life comes with a price, but you feel good and he isn’t just talking about the sex. You’re fresh and full of life, and he sounds like such a creep when he says this but he feels so much better around you.

You seem to enjoy your time around him as well, but it could just be because you don’t see each other often and maybe that’s for the best. If you got too close, you’d realize that he’s just a bum with a whole list of underlying issues.

You’d send him a text from time to time. A little update on your life here and there, and it’s nice to know that you’re doing well.

“Will you be in town this week? I’m coming back from college to visit my dad.”

“No, sweetheart. Maybe next time, I miss you.”

“Miss you too”

But when he does see you, he makes sure to make up for lost time. He takes you out, buys you those overpriced drinks that you like, and he never comes empty handed.

The dynamic between the two of you is complicated and no matter which way he twists it, it’s still morally wrong. He’s the same age as your dad, and your dad is your dad so technically if he had a hypothetical daughter she would be the same age as you. Did he also mention that you’re his best friend’s daughter?

Like, he cares for you like his daughter, he spoils you like you’re his daughter, he talks to you honestly more than he would talk to his actual daughter. But you’re not. And with your mom being out of the picture, you’ve become more attached to him.

Point is, you matter. Matter so much that he is in here because of you.

Typically, most of your “dates” end up at his apartment; with him sprawled out on the bed and you on top of him. Your lips move from his lips, to his nose, cheek, forehead, and back to his lips. His bulky arms wrap around you, taking in your scent. A warm fuzzy feeling fills his chest, he feels loved, and if he’s loved by someone like you it means that he’s doing something right.

Your hips grind on the outline of his cock beneath his jeans and your lips latch onto his neck. You bite and kiss the tender skin, his hands gripping your hips sucking in a breath at the sensation. You’re good at this, a little too good. Dipping lower, you whisper into his ear.

“I wanna suck your cock.”

He almost chokes on his own spit, it never gets easier to hear you say these sorts of things. You kiss from his jaw, to his neck, and down his chest.

“Want you, daddy.”

Leon feels a pang in his chest and a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Sweetheart… don’t call me that.”

You move back closer to him, a smile plastered all over your face like this is funny.

“Why?”

Cause it makes him feel like shit, cause it makes him feel like an asshole who can’t keep his dick in his pants. But you’re not even listening, you’re too busy rubbing his cock through his pants.

“Because- It’s just kind of weird, baby.”

“I’ve literally called you that before and you didn’t mind.”

“What? When?”

“New years, when you came over to our house.”

New years to Leon is just another excuse for him to get piss drunk and blackout without anyone judging him for it. He can’t even remember what he did that night, let alone what you said.

“Okay, I was drunk so it doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, well drunk you really liked it; besides you never listen when I tell you to stop calling me pumpkin.”

“That’s different.”

Your eyes snap back at him, your face morphing into an expression he knows too well. The same face you used to make when your dad wouldn’t let you attend those high school parties with alcohol and drugs because he’s a good parent; right before you would stomp to your room and he’d have to intervene to make you see your dad’s perspective. Honestly, he used to only do that because he couldn’t stand the idea of you crying upstairs.

You start getting off the bed before he grabs your arm.

“No, no, I’m sorry.”

He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you against him, teasing you for holding in your laugh. He manages to get you on top of him again, with you still putting up a fight.

“Come on, give me a kiss.”

He puckers his lips out for you, making kissing sounds. You laugh, feigning disgust before caving in. The kiss starts off soft and sweet at first, Leon’s hand caressing your cheek before pulling away and looking at you.

“You know how much you mean to me, right?”

You nod your head in response. He moves some of the stray hairs away from your face.

“Daddy’s princess”

At this point, he can’t blame you for acting like a brat when he’s been enabling this behavior since you can remember. When your dad didn’t agree to buying you that three story barbie dreamhouse on your birthday, Leon did. When you were drunk and out of the house when you were supposed to be grounded, Leon was the one to pick you up every time. And even now, he can’t ever so no to you.

If he wants to be completely honest with himself, he doesn’t entirely hate this whole daddy thing. It’s just his morality getting in the way, or whatever is left of it at least. But either way he’s going to hell so it doesn’t matter.

His hand gropes your ass as he trails soft open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You go back to rocking your hips, delicate sighs slipping from your mouth. It doesn’t take long before his cock starts to get hard and he can feel himself getting dumber and dumber as the blood rushes all the way from one head to the other.

Grabbing your hand, he guides it to his crotch. His hips buck against your hand making you feel how hard he is.

“Wanna suck daddy’s cock, baby? Make me feel good?”

You nod, giving him a final peck on the lips before moving back and fumbling with his belt. He helps you undress him before pulling his cock out. Your hand wraps around the base giving it a slow stroke before kissing the tip.

You make sure to keep eye contact with him as you kiss the tip again and again, a transparent string of his arousal connecting your lips to the leaking head. You take him into your mouth, your pillowy lips wrapping around him with your hand at the base making up for what your mouth can’t accommodate.

He moves your hair from around your face, putting it in a makeshift ponytail with his fist and feeling your tongue slide up and down his length.

“That’s it, sweetheart. So good f’me.”

You moan with him in your mouth, the sound sending waves of pleasure through him. He lets you do what you want, your spit along with his precum coating your hands and dripping down to his balls.

Eventually deciding to take a bit more of control, he gently pulls your hair to move you according to his pace. He guides you slowly before picking up the pace, you handle it pretty well the wet sounds coming from your throat making him groan in pleasure.

With his orgasm building up he pushes your limits a little more, pulling your face down to take more of him into your mouth. He cusses under his breath, watching his cock disappear into you. You gag when he pushes too much, a few tears running down your cheeks out of reflex.

Letting go of your hair, you pull away. Your chest rises and falls as you regain your composure, your face shiny with your mixed fluids. He smiles at you, grabbing the base of his cock and slapping it against your lips a few times.

“Such a good girl. Making me proud.”

You smile weakly, placing an openmouthed kiss on the head before he pulls you towards him. His hand sneaks past the waistband of your underwear, collecting the buildup slick and circling around your clit.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This pussy is practically crying to get filled.”

You slip off your underwear, his hands gripping your waist as your straddle his lap. He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing the leaking tip against your clit. Your sensitive bud gets coated with a transparent layer of precum; his eyes take in your expression as he applies more pressure on your clit.

Moving your hips forwards, he nudges at your entrance as you sink down on his length causing the two of you moan in unison at the stretch. You place your hands on his shoulders, and he begins to thrust into you from below. You sigh and your face scrunches up in the crook of his neck in concentration. A smile creeps up on his lips from your reaction.

“Not in the mood to put up a fight anymore?”

You tut in annoyance, your arms wrapping around him even tighter. He reciprocates, one of his arms snaking around your lower back with the other pulling you against his chest. He picks up the pace, his cock slamming into you feverishly.

He keeps up the same speed until you start to squirm on top of him, your walls squeezing around him a little too tight signaling your orgasm being around the corner. Deciding to prioritize you, his hips remain bucked making sure his cock is buried deep inside your aching cunt as he guides your hips in a circling motion.

Your thighs begin to shake as his tips rubs against your g spot again and again. He shushes you, his hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“Gonna cum, baby? It’s okay, daddy’s got you.”

It takes a few more seconds before you begin to whimper, the fluttering of your velvety walls causing his grip to tighten on you as he tries his best to not lose composure himself. He makes sure that you get the same stimulation throughout your orgasm before he starts chasing his own.

You slump against his shoulder, your thoughts god knows where as he feverishly fucks into you. He takes in your scent, the smoothness of your skin, and the curves on your side; and as the pleasure floods his brain he silently begs for your father’s forgiveness.

He makes sure to pull out of you despite your mumbled protests. His cock now exposed to the cold air of the room throbs before shooting hot spurts of cum over your abdomen. He hisses as your fist pumps up and down the length, his balls emptying all over you.

Completely spent, you lean against his chest and he pulls you into a warm hug. It’s usually at this point where the post nut clarity hits him like a bus and he vows to never do it again. But he’s also done this enough times to realize that next time won’t be any different.

He looks at your face against his chest, your eyes closed and your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A soft kiss is placed on your temple, his head resting against yours.

“Love you, pumpkin.”

Piled high on the mahogany table were the reports and assignments left unfinished thanks to the bureaucratic chaos by the name of the highly respected Kennedy, ironically enough, the head of the division department, had brought upon himself. Because if we were to consider his work ethic, your Daddy was normally as sharp as a tack, always precise and swift in executing his tasks (and missions) within governmental standards – could potentially even earn him the approval to be running this country his damn self should he ever wish to represent the eagle, soldiers and superb men alike pledged their loyalty to.

But today, a string of high-stakes phone calls atop the plethora of papers seemed to have left their mark on the American golden boy (or rather, rugged old man with legendary status), and thus, his productivity slowed down to a cipher.

It didn’t help quite help that his own phone had buzzed with a notification that Leon should have refrained from checking upon in the first place. Because all it took was one look, and the agent, who was known by his protegees as competently indifferent, wasn’t able to think straight anymore, therefore, had explained himself of having to leave work early due to an emergency and rushed out of the building.

Right.

Not much of a surprise when it came to –

Said to be a present, clearly, as he read the message, added with a picture of your body, scantily clad, in the lewdest position possible, only for his eyes to see, of course. Indeed, the man who was as anonymous as one could be, had a very weak spot for a beautiful, little missus in his life.

A-hem, you.

To then say that he wasn’t willing to speak upon of what had prompted him to ditch work ahead of schedule would be an understatement. Everything you did was solely reserved for Leon the professional, and he wanted to keep it that way – under lock and key (in conclusion: secretive). He also wouldn’t be willing to admit (to you either) that he loved your risqué side (proven by the exempt as just shown), more accurately, your overly provocative one, especially when the entire relationship was established on said premise: that he was the one in control, and therefore, intent to be the one to draw the impermeable lines (boundaries) in scorching hot sand, which you had to respect and abide by in return.

Leon had, admittedly, been in denial for a very, very long time.

At the beginning, he had stated time and time again he wasn’t into such things (his browsing history said otherwise, though, but let’s digress), shooed you away and shook his head as if he’d been disappointed by you (translating into: he pushed you away because you had kept boking the bear). Silly you.

But late at night, that’s exactly when he couldn’t help but think about it.

The very first time you had called him Daddy, it was more of an awkward situation to be quite frank – he laughed awkwardly, cocking an eyebrow (didn’t hate it at all, side note) – though it was only natural to you, because Leon was the very embodiment of a fatherly figure, no?

He loved explaining things to you, especially when it came to his job, his guns or his motorcycle (which, obviously, was incredibly attractive and only amplified your feelings towards him). He liked showing you around, driving you around (which became common courtesy as you had admitted once that he looked sexy in his Porsche. Coincidence?). Would often times go to the grocery shop with you just so he could buy you whatever you wanted. He’d let you hold him by his two fingers, thick in girth, whenever you two decided to go for a walk at the park. He’d stroke your hair in bed, and at last, would always make sure you were safe and sound (for example: text you hourly whenever you were at a party or outside enjoying yourself with your friends, reminding he’s home alone waiting for you. Poor Leon, not even his favorite movies could keep him company anymore).

Without a doubt, to fall for Leon was no difficult feat to do. It was very easy, in fact, given that this man was a man, who gently nurtured and guided you through life and luckily, not at the expanse of your own intelligence, for example, to be downright insulted as so often was the case with men, unfortunately.

If we were to look behind the scenes though, Leon constantly debated himself over a predicament of his own making, that he was falling for a woman half his age. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why it felt so wrong. Most definitely assured, the two decades of disparity drove a huge nudge. You were settling down in life, meanwhile Leon already had roughly thirty years of experience under his leather belt. Tough on the mental, for him, to say the least (asking himself daily what his colleagues would think of him were they ever to find out about it).

The need to be close to you was stronger, however, and it eventually won him over, so much so, that he ended up needing you as much as the very air to live and breathe, couldn’t believe you were this kind and stunning, also greatly emphasized: able to empathize with his struggle he was more than ashamed of (his alcohol addiction). How heartbreaking, for what it’s worth, Leon could have ended up way worse for what had to endure in his life. And you had told him that, more so, of how proud you were of him. Sadly, he wanted to keep you at distance to spare you. He didn’t want to hurt you, and purposefully ignored you for about three months.

After much consideration, he told himself screw it, allowing himself to let this all be, no matter what his brain had conspired against him to believe about you – or this relationship. And why wouldn’t he?

He was incredibly thankful you hadn’t given up on him. Having nearly missed out on a little angel like you was a near-miss of a nightmare vivid enough to leave him tossing and turning, wallowing in the sweat of his own self-sabotage. “Cuteness be damned, you do have a head on your shoulders, young lady”, he muttered under his breath with a sincere smile on his face the day he decided not to fight his very own whim to be with you.

With that being said, it was of no surprise that he let himself fall, truly fall, as in: curtains strung wide open for you to see Leon in all of his glory, for who he was, stripped bare and all. He was scared, free from pretense, wasn’t sure whether he was ready to receive love now, considering all he’d known was to care for other people. Nevertheless, he welcomed you to his world and his heart with open arms and hadn’t let go since.

Now, back to the picture.

So, what was the result?

Well, as indicated heretofore, your Daddy had a few consequences lined up for you in case you wanted to misbehave. Though he was very loving, he did discipline you. You knew very early on that certain things were strictly forbidden without Daddy’s permission, including saying the word “Daddy” out loud in public.

Well, little miss provocateur – you – had other things in mind.

Once, he took you out shopping, on the pretext of: needing new clothes himself, but secretly bought them to impress you, wanting to look dapper (yes, dapper, he said so himself). So, when your man – a replica akin to pure perfection – stepped out of the dressing room to show his black slacks (he was more than ready to buy), you complimented him with dreamy eyes, quote, “You look so handsome, Dad.”

Not Daddy. But Dad.

And that’s when things took a turn for the worse for Leon.

Objectively speaking, you had not overplayed your hand here. In all fairness, though, this was just another version of the original, if not the original itself (the paternal one), which, in all candor, wreaked havoc within him, spiraling his guilt out of control to such depths he wanted to resent you for it. You fed into his domineering manhood too much, pushing the envelope until his own mind started to drift off to places he desperately wished he could just forget.

He was, truthfully, at a loss for words here.

He couldn’t believe – well, that he liked –

Clearing his throat, Leon excused himself in front of the shop assistant, his cheeks burning brightly red he looked sunburnt at this point. The emotional concoction of – what was it? –embarrassment, anger and a heavily laden, forbidden lust that turned Leon’s mind into a wasteland with its last standing resident – him – giving in to the madness of his own prurient desires. At that moment, all he knew was this: he needed to escape the shopping mall as soon as possible.

To hell with changing, the price tag issued that sorting out this never-wracking fiasco was way more urgent. You bid your own endgame when you started giggling as he frantically dragged you out, back into his car – not the front, but the backseat (sealing your destiny) – where you were forced onto his lap, telling you to zip it and to listen to him carefully. Each leg of yours rested comfortably over his as you were spread wide open, your slick center turning all puffy and swollen as he imprinted his palm onto your mound, slapping you stupid, his questions leading an entire investigation, forcing you to explain yourself to him.

And that you did. For about an hour.

And this time, it wasn’t your center that had to deal with the result of your tomfoolery that knocked Leon out of his reasoning. No, it was your bare ass, panties dragged to your knees, as you were draped across his thighs like a blanket, a spanking following right up to meet you to remind you who was in charge here.

“Count it, girl,” he rasped, breathing raggedly as he soothed your skin that had been marked already upon the impact of his with veins riddled hand. “C’mon, be good for Daddy and let me hear it.”

“Ten,” you sniffled, regret creeping in until you were completely submerged. Leon had the stereotypical strength of every elderly man who’d spent decades doing manual labor, a very dense, functional strength, though you wouldn’t perceive at first glance (his statue did however support the presupposition). But you certainly felt it now, entirely at your Daddy’s mercy, forced to play the cards you’d been dealt – your fault, shoulders shrugged, mind you.

“Aw, poor baby,” he cooed condescendingly, rubbing your butt and smirking to himself. “Is my little girl crying, yes?”

“Yes,” you whined, wiggling your butt to flee from his grip but it transgressed into him growling out of pure frustration, his hand hitting you so hard you yelped, “I’m sorry, Dad!”

“Zip it,” he warned, bending over to get closer to your face, utilizing his other hand to grip your chin with no chance left to move anymore. “You know you’re not sorry. You were bad today, weren’t you?”

“No, Daddy,” you mewed, your lips jutting out into a pout. “I wasn’t. I only wanted to show you how much I missed you.”

“Yeah? And that involves sending naughty pictures to Daddy while he’s at work speaking to the fucking President of the United States, huh?” he seethed, his breath fanning over your cheek. “You never fucking learn, do ya?”

“I didn’t know!”

“Cut it out,” he countered angrily, another brutal smack landing on your perky buttocks. “Count it. C’mon.”

“Dada –“

“I said,” he groaned through his teeth, cutting you off, clean slices. “Fucking count it.”

Quite the curveball, but you couldn’t. The man in leather jackets, nursing his expensive whiskey, was done here, he was not having it with you anymore. Worse still, he absolutely loved seeing you like this. To be looked upon as a monumental person in your life was too satisfactory of a victory he had no intention of giving it up, ever. You were his baby, no questions asked, it was embedded into the ground like a cornerstone, and like a good father should, lay his girls foundation of the world by showing her what was right and what was wrong. Even if it meant it had to hurt a little.

“Aw, is it getting hard to speak?” he purred, kissing you featherily. “Let’s do simple math then, little lady. I know you’re smart. What’s one plus ten?”

“Eleven,” you quipped to his wit.

“There you go,” he chuckled warmly with half-lidded, lustful eyes. Then added all high and mighty: “See? You do listen when you want to. When there’s a will, there’s a way, sweetheart.”

“No more, Dada,” you pleaded, ignoring his fatherly non-sense, biting your bottom lip and looking him in the eye. “No more spanking.”

“Aw, it’s too much for you already?” Squeezing the plumpness of your ass, he grazed his lips over your skin, his stubble slightly tickling you. “But you’re gonna take it, no? You said you wanted to be good for me.”

“I am good, Papa! I am!”

“Well, guess what’s for dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he asked, a tone so cocky it almost played a wagging finger at you. And he didn’t let you guess either. “A big old slice of be-have-your self, and Daddy’s gonna make sure you leave the plate empty. Understood?”

“Your joke wasn’t funny, Daddy.”

“Oh, I know it wasn’t funny to you, sweetheart,” he snickered, very much amused at the wordplay at hand. “Especially not for what I have planned.”

“Wait,” you quivered panicky, but definitely understandable, considering Leon was able to play extremely dirty. “What?”

“Do you remember Henry?”

No two ways about it. You did.

Hook, line and sinker.

Thus, your throat went as dry as a well out of water. You gulped – well, tried to. It hurt, and while you could explain it, admitting what your Daddy was referring to was definitely too much of a shameful gamble. Before you met him, you had – let’s say – certain ways of satisfying your needs. These, a-hem, tools could vibrate, came in cute colors like pink or purple, and were available in different sizes. Well, Leon here, had found one while snooping around in your bedroom once. In lack of better words: it was an invasion of privacy, but not like he cared. He was looking out for you. Like a father should. Right. He was appalled at first, and, comically enough, had his ego bruised that you still kept one in your nightstand.

Until a bright idea flickered in his mind, that he could use it on you – to make you squirm, to make you moan, to make you cry, all while you were confined to the bed, unable to flee from the calamity. He made sure, no, Leon put you to a test of how well of a student you could be. Whatever you tried would be used as a weapon, turned against you, to tranquilize your maverick energy for his own benefit.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I do.”

“Well, our friend should come over tonight. Don’t you think?”

“No! No, please, no,” you begged, trying to kiss him now, but to no avail. He withdrew from your face.

“You don’t like Henry?” he asked innocently, pretending he was a real living and breathing human being. “Young lady, that’s not nice.”

“I don’t like Henry,” you whined. “I like you. I want you, Daddy.”

“’S that so, yeah?” Shifting his gaze back to your ass, he chuckled, “Well, I already called Henry. He’s coming over. No if and buts, dollface.”

“But –“

“I said, no if and buts. Hear me?”

Cold water hits the surface of disturbed skin. You’ve grown used to the stinging sensation by now. Perhaps it’s the only semblance of reassurance that you are still alive.

Bleeding, broken, but still alive. Somehow.

The ringing barely fades from your ears, and your entire frame feels simultaneously heavy and light—perhaps guilt for the former, and fatigue for the latter—when you turn to slip back into your dimly lit bedroom. As you flick off the light switch and blindly search for the edge of your bed (ignoring the thought of the darkness swallowing you whole), another flicks on.

Leon stares at you from the bed, a drowsy look in his gaze as he rubs his eyes tiredly. Despite the sleep lingering in his eyes, it seemed as though something had been keeping him awake for a while.

It’s at that moment you realize he’s been staring at your arms.

You’re all too familiar with that look by now, and frankly, it doesn’t suit him. He has this expression, as his gaze shift from your eyes, to your limbs, then back up to keep the contact—worry, perhaps. Or guilt. Confusion. Maybe a bit of hopefulness, which you found odd. It’s slightly different from the usual look people give you, but a hint of annoyance still bubbles up from your chest at the thought of others pitying you in the past. You barely manage to keep your emotions in check, reminding yourself to avoid adrenaline from taking the reins, yet the bitterness from being belittled still stays in your throat.

“Everything okay?”

Seeing you not give an immediate response, Leon slightly winced at his choice of words. “Do you want to talk about it?” He corrects himself.

The tension in his shoulders dissipated when you slid back into bed with him, sitting there for a while in silence. He could accept this much; at least you hadn’t shut him out entirely. His fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out, but he held back. He isn’t as stingy when it comes to showing his concern, though; his voice stays gentle, but there’s a firmness underneath that you recognize as his refusal to let this slide easily.

Still, Leon’s had his suspicions for a while now.

“Will you show me?” He asks quietly. “Your arms.”

“My… arms.” You glance up at him, slowly, your head still feeling heavy on your shoulders. “What for?”

“Because I miss seeing them.” A weak attempt at a smile tugs at his lips, but the worry in his eyes betrays him. “You always hide them now. Even when it’s hot as hell outside.” He swallows hard before continuing, softer. “…I just want to know you’re okay.”

He hesitates for a second before finally reaching out—slow and careful, mindful that you may retreat like a delicate, wounded animal—and rests his hand lightly on your covered forearm. His touch is warm through the fabric. “If something’s wrong, I wanna help.” He exhales sharply through his nose, brows knit together in an obvious display of courage amidst a vulnerable moment. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself, carry it alone. You know that, right?”

His thumb brushes absently over your sleeve, then he meets your eyes again, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Please.”

I don’t want to be a bother, was your go-to phrase. You never wanted to be an inconvenience to anyone, never wanted to make it about you. Never wanted to face the inevitable barrage of questions, or the way people would be overly-cautious around you to the point of childishness. It was exhausting. As the sentence falls from your lips, Leon’s eyebrows shoot up in immediate disbelief.

“A bother?” He looks almost angry, but his eyes are pained. He calls out your name, achingly gentle with it, like he always is. “You can’t be a bother. That’s… that’s not how it works. I’ll help you because I want to. I want to.”

Your fatigue creeps in, and you realize it far too late.

You’re so, so… tired.

Once people have had their fill of you, they easily discard you like crumpled paper. But Leon’s thumb apologetically brushes against your wrist, and your attention is drawn back to his face. His words come out fierce and urgent, releasing your sleeve before he grips it a bit too tight from his emotions and accidentally hurts you.

“Look, I just—” he runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m worried about you, baby. All this sudden hiding and you… you can’t even change in front of me anymore. It… it makes me think it’s something serious. I just want to know what I’m dealing with, sweetheart—I need to know.”

He’s visibly frustrated, and your thoughts back you into a seemingly inescapable corner. “Don’t be mad.”

Leon blinks, taken aback. He shakes his head, a bit of the frustration in his expression fading as he speaks. “I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.” He sighs, gently moving closer and resting his hand on your arm again, thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth soothingly. “Just… not having any idea what’s going on is killing me.” He searches your eyes with that same pleading look from earlier, and you relent.

Leon’s breath hitches. For a second, he just stares—eyes tracing over the marks with this stillness that makes your heart sink with regret. Then his fingers twitch toward your bare arm again, like he wants to touch them but can’t, settling to hover over them. You could see him trembling, and it’s taking quite the effort for him to hide it. An apology immediately slips from your lips, but he effectively stops you with a soft shush.

“Don’t apologize.” He isn’t angry, he isn’t disgusted. The confirmation almost feels cathartic, in a bittersweet way. You’ve opened up enough for him to know what was going on, after all. “I’m just worried. I’m really…” he trails off, rubbing a hand over his face again, before shifting in the bed and taking both of your hands in his. He’s trying to act calm, to keep his voice steady, and your heart clenches.

“I’m not upset, okay?” He reassures with a tender squeeze to your hands, looking you in the eye again. “But you have to be honest with me. How long?”

Leon listens, never interrupting you once. It’s one of the many things you adored about him, especially in times like these. He knows all you needed was a listening ear right now, and he’d go through hell, back, and hell again to help with that weight on your shoulders. His thumb traces your knuckles, rubbing along them comfortingly. His gaze is locked on yours, eyes filled with nothing but concern and care. Maybe a bit of gratitude and relief, too. He knows what kind of battle you’ve been fighting now.

“When did it happen?” He reaches up to rest the back of his hand against your cheek, the quiver in his fingers easing as he feels your skin. “The relapse.”

“Just… earlier.” You settle vaguely. You weren’t sure what time it was yet, but it was still dark outside, and the chilly air gives you the hint that it might be past midnight already.

The last word hangs in the air for a moment, and you can practically see the thoughts running through Leon’s head. He shifts closer, sheets rustling beneath him, before pulling you into his arms—tight, but careful of your injury.

Leon pulls back just enough to look at you again, one hand cradling the side of your face. “I’m not leaving you alone with this again,” he says firmly, with no room for argument. “We’re getting through tonight together, okay?”

At your not, he lets out a small breath of relief, tracing his thumb along your cheek before pressing a light kiss to your forehead. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in relief, but he’s still cautious. He traces along the shell of your ear, smoothing along the trail of hair behind your ear.

He settles beside you properly, one arm around you in case you needed an anchor or wanted to lean further into him. “Is that better? Anything I can do right now?”

“Just… hold me, please.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate at that. He pulls you closer, tucking you comfortably against the solid warmth of his chest. He rests his chin atop your head and exhales, tension slowly draining from both your bodies as you laid there. “Of course,” he murmurs into your hair. His fingers trail absently up and down your back, reminding you of his presence without ever having to say it aloud. “Anything for you.”

After a moment of quiet, he shifts slightly to press another kiss atop your head, before settling back down again with a contented sigh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A wave of worry suddenly washes over you. “Is this… going to change things?”

Leon pulls back to gaze at you, “Yeah.” The way it comes out is certain, but soft-spoken, especially with how your breath hitches. “Because now I know, so I can help.”

Brushing a thumb under your eye where tears might have gathered, his gaze softened. “That’s the only thing changing. Not how I see you. Not how much I love you. Alright?”

Upon noticing the words have stuck with you, a small smirk tugs at his lips—cocky but tender. “You’re stuck with me being extra annoying now about checking in, alright?”

You chuckle weakly. “I’d rather have that, yeah.”

He smiles alongside you in amusement. You’ll be alright, if he’s managing to make you smile with his stupid jokes again. His grip feels almost desperate when he pulls you back into his chest again. “I know you like your space, baby, but I’m gonna be up your ass the second you’re having an off day.” He pokes the tip of your nose. “You can’t escape me.”

When your chuckle flourishes into a bigger laugh, something in Leon’s chest unclenches in relief. He grins against the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair before pulling back to see the art that was your face.

“There it is,” he murmurs, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. He looks proud and relieved all at once. “I missed that laugh so much.”

A beat passes where he just looks at you, soaking in the moment before shifting slightly to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth with an exaggerated mwah!, lightening things up on purpose. “I’ll be just as annoying tomorrow, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

His cheeks have started to hurt from grinning so much, and he doesn’t even realize the pain immediately, not when you’re chuckling more against him. He leans back against the headboard with you still tucked against him, running his fingers through your hair in a soothing motion. “Knew I’d be able to get a genuine laugh out of you by tonight.” He says, smug, but keeping his tone light.

After a moment, he presses a firm kiss to your temple before relaxing again.

“Feeling up to letting me dress those cuts soon, sweetheart?”

He bribes you with snacks when he sees you contemplate on it, and you can’t help but feel the ache that came with being cared for, for once. As he notices you’re getting teary-eyed again, he reaches up to cup your face in his hands, thumb brushing away a tear that’s fallen.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, voice gentle, “don’t cry, my love, it’s gonna be okay.” He traces the curve of your jaw with his knuckle, giving you a small but warm smile. “I’m not mad at you, okay? I never was.”

After a final stroke against your cheek, he presses one more kiss to your forehead before shifting out from behind you. He slides off the bed, grabbing his first aid kit from the bathroom—a huge DSO moment, he thinks to himself, noticing how it’s way too stocked for normal people. When he returns, he settles cross-legged in front of you on the mattress, popping it open with a click.

“Alright,” he snaps on a glove with practiced ease, his touch feather-light as he gently takes your arm, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” He dabs antiseptic onto a gauze pad, hesitating just briefly before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m proud of you for saying yes to this. You know that, right?”

You scoff, looking away to stop unshed tears from resurfacing. “Don’t make me cry even more.”

“Can’t make any guarantees, baby,” he teases, gently cleaning the cuts and pausing whenever you winced. He’s being careful—keeping an eye on your expression and the way you wince from time to time. “You’re kind of a cute crier, too. Just a fact.”

After a moment, he pauses his movements to meet your eyes again. “Besides, I don’t mind. You can let it all out.” He’s serious this time, though he’s still smiling warmly. “You feeling okay so far?”

You nod, muttering a soft word of gratitude. Leon nods back, the corner of his mouth twitching upward again before returning to cleaning your wounds. He works silently at first, focusing on disinfecting them properly—he’s got plenty of experience patching up both himself and others. He’ll never let on that it gets to him seeing you hurt, though. Not while he’s taking on the role of an annoying caregiver, at least.

After several minutes, he’s already finishing up dressing the cuts, securing the last piece of gauze tape with a gentle swipe of his thumb and a precise snip. When he’s done, his hand lingers on your arm, almost too gentle of a touch.

“…Feeling a bit better after getting those bandaged up, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hmm.” You smile softly.

He can’t help smiling back when you do, fingers reaching out to trace along your jaw again, trailing up until they linger in your hair. “I’d kiss them, but they’re fresh. It’d be unsanitary.” He remarks, and you’re unable to hold back the surprised laugh at his bluntness.

He still hates knowing what you went through alone, for who knows how long, still hates that he didn’t notice it earlier, but the fact that you’re smiling—because of him, no less—is the best relief he could ever ask for.

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