suga puffs

"Hell no," Taehyun sneers, yet again disappointing you, "You guys almost pushed me off the bed last time."

"Not really our fault if you thought three of us could fit in one bed without having to get close," you say, and Beomgyu has already peeled off the wrap of the obnoxious card game, reaching to uncap the bottle of soju next. Your frown deepens, beginning to accept that you're outnumbered in this situation. "Are we seriously doing this?"

"Don't be lame," Beomgyu whines in return, struggling to open the box and subsequently sending the cards all over the floor— Taehyun all but jumps on the ground to help him pick up the cards while you watch with narrowed eyes. Once Beomgyu has the card pack reorganized, he looks up at you from where he's kneeling on the rug. "Get down here, will you? You need to learn to try something new for once."

"I should be the one saying that to you," you're spitting out the words with pure venom, yet sliding off the couch and onto the rug anyway. At least it's soft and, as far as you're aware, decently clean— that is, if Beomgyu washed it yesterday like he promised he would. "The Exorcist isn't even that bad, you guys just hate getting out your comfort zone."

"You picked that movie on purpose!" You freeze for a second, afraid Beomgyu caught on to your sly intentions— instead, you find him pouting at you, his arms crossed petulantly. "You always make fun of us for getting scared and pretend like you're better than us."

"Because I am," you say— beside you, Taehyun rolls his eyes. "At least I know how to distinguish reality from fiction."

"You know The Exorcist is based on a true story, right?"

Taehyun manages to shut you up for once, and when the two send you smug look, you scoff and wave him off.

"Who's starting this stupid thing?"

"I'll start, and we can go clockwise," Beomgyu says, doing a circle motion with his hands, as though neither of you knew what clockwise meant. He's picking up the cards once more, giving them a good shuffle (a very showy shuffle, where he does a few tricks to try and impress you. It's his three year old party trick— it doesn't even faze you two.) and setting them down in the center of you three, right next to his brand new soju bottle you suspect he bought for this occasion. "If you don't wanna do it, you take a shot. But you at least gotta read it out loud. Deal?"

"Deal," somehow, you're beginning to see the appeal of the game a little more— maybe it's because you caught the 'Adult's Edition' specification on the box, written in that corny, curly neon font. You can't believe Beomgyu actually bought something like this. "I've got ten bucks on Taehyun ending up the drunkest."

"What? No way, it's gonna be you!" Taehyun sits up on his knees, reaching over to shove your shoulder, which you allow to happen with a smug grin, "you never tell us anything anymore."

"What is there to tell?" shrugging, you gesture for Beomgyu to start, "I don't think these cards are gonna be that bad, anyway. Games like these always pretend to be hardcore, but end up pretty lame— why do you think Gyu got it on sale?"

"Give the person to your left a hickey."

It feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs, you and Taehyun turning your heads toward Beomgyu so fast you'd think you'd get whiplash. Beomgyu's ears peek a bright red from beneath his hair, and after putting yourself in his perspective, you're looking over at Taehyun to gauge his reaction— he doesn't seem to be doing any better.

There's a moment of silence as the three of you ponder whether Beomgyu will step up to the challenge or take a shot— you spot his eyes flickering to the soju bottle— plum, his favorite— and clear your throat before he can get any ideas.

"You're not actually gonna start us off by taking a shot, are you?" it's the type of peer pressure you were advised against (much less advised against doing) back in school— but you really can't help it, not when Beomgyu seems too scared to even look in the other's general direction, "you can't be the one to suggest this game and then immediately chicken out."

"Who said I was gonna chicken out? I mean, it's just a hickey," if Beomgyu thinks he sounds confident and easygoing, he'd be wrong— a pink blush slowly makes it's way up from behind his neck. "But it's not up to me— I don't wanna do anything that makes Tyun uncomfortable, you know?"

"Oh, uhm," you think Beomgyu is holding his breath as Taehyun responds, scratching his nape sheepishly. "I don't really care. Like you said— it's just a hickey, right?"

It's clear Beomgyu hadn't expected Taehyun to be this nonchalant— Beomgyu's eyes widen, and if you hadn't been on the edge of your seat watching this all unfold, you'd definitely make fun of him for it. Though Taehyun seems a little flustered under your careful attention, you find he truly doesn't mind— there's a bit of an embarrassed flush to him, but his competitive spirit is too strong to look too deep into this whole debacle; it leaves Beomgyu floundering around like an idiot.

"Y…know what? Yeah, you're right," the confident facade Beomgyu dons is too precious— you're sitting back on your hands, watching Beomgyu crawl toward Taehyun with a twinkle in your eye. Your smug face is caught Beomgyu's peripheral, and he's glaring over at you as he settles in front of Taehyun. "And… I've got fifty bucks on you being the first to turn down a card."

You laugh, throwing your head back. "What the hell, sure."

You think you might just buy yourself a new purse with Beomgyu's fifty dollars tomorrow.

Beomgyu kneels in front of Taehyun, his palms soothing over his thighs, pressing back and forth as he licks his lips— Taehyun, ever so oblivious, adjusts the collar of his oversized tee, letting it hang off his shoulder and tilting his head to the side to give Beomgyu access— Beomgyu's eyes widen, and you think he might pass out from all the blood that's rushing to his face.

Taehyun's eyes flutter shut, nibbling at his lip as he waits patiently— after a few more seconds pass, you start to take pity on Beomgyu, who has yet to do anything— just as you're about to reassure Beomgyu that he really doesn't have to do anything he's uncomfortable with, he exhales softly and leans forward, putting his hands on Taehyun's thighs for stability.

It's your turn to hold your breath in anticipation— you catch Beomgyu's adam's apple bob as he leans in, tilting his head until his lips are right against the column of Taehyun's neck. His eyes flicker up to Taehyun, sparkling under the light.

"Is here okay?" he barely breathes out.

"Yeah," Taehyun says, much calmer than you expected, "go for it."

You're barely able to bite back your insufferable grin as you pipe up. "And make sure it's visible too."

You watch Beomgyu's brows furrow, but he holds back from responding to you— instead, he closes the space between him and Taehyun, latching his lips onto his neck.

Your eyes fly up to Taehyun's face. Sure enough, you spot the twitch of his brows, his teeth that dig into his lip, his ears turning a dark red the longer Beomgyu sucks at his neck; Beomgyu pulls away for a second to check for any signs of a mark, sighing when he finds nothing there.

"Done?" Taehyun asks— his voice is a lot more tense this time around.

"Uhm," you can tell Beomgyu feels humiliated at his answer. "Not yet."

"Dude, just stop holding back," Taehyun reaches out to grab Beomgyu's sweater, tugging him a little closer— you're digging your fingers into the carpet beneath you, feeling like a perverted freak for enjoying the show as much as you do; but hey, when two of your prettiest friends are fumbling around so pathetically, isn't it only natural to be pleased by the sight?

"Fine," Beomgyu lets out a growl, frustrated— with himself or Taehyun, you're not exactly sure. "Just— tell me if I make you uncomfortable, okay?"

He latches back onto Taehyun with a purpose before he can get a response— he's much more eager this time, and you watch Taehyun sit up in surprise and let out the softest, cutest gasp; his fingers tighten around the bunched up fabric of Beomgyu's sweater, one of Beomgyu's hands sliding up to hold onto his waist to stop Taehyun from squirming so much. Just when you think you might be interrupting something, tempted to look away to give them a semblance of privacy, Beomgyu pulls away, his blushing face instantly lighting up with triumph.

"There! There, see? I did it. It's done." Beomgyu turns Taehyun for good measure, showing off his neck that sure enough, has a splotchy mark blooming. Their eyes are hazy as they look over at you, and you try to ignore the electric shock that goes up your spine, chuckling and nodding in approval.

"Alright, whatever. You win." Beomgyu's triumph is short lived, because it seems his actions only dawn on him as he scoots back to his spot, eyeing Taehyun's neck that still glistens with his spit, untucking his hair and letting it fall over his bright red ears.

"Taehyun, you're up," the said man seems to be recovering much faster, fixing his shirt and leaning forward for a card. His eyes scan the words before he sets it down, deep in thought.

"Dude, you have to read it out loud."

"Oh, right."

Taehyun clears his throat, looking back at the card as though the words magically changed. "What are your top three turn-ons?"

Looking over at Beomgyu, you raise a brow, and he instantly flusters. "Are you seriously having us play some weird sex version of truth-or-dare instead of watching a movie?"

Taehyun laughs, and Beomgyu throws his hands up in surrender, "I'm gonna be so honest, I saw the game on sale for three bucks and didn't get a good look at it, I promise."

"Well thank god it's just us," you're not sure you fully believe Beomgyu's excuse, but you'll give him the benefit of doubt for now, "can you imagine playing this with a bigger group?"

While you and Taehyun laugh and speculate on how disastrous that would be— joking of having to make out with other friends or do a body shot— you miss the way Beomgyu envisions it as well, a pit forming in his stomach at the image. He sees it all clearly— he almost thought of taking this stupid game to another hangout coming up on Saturday, a small get together Yeonjun was hosting. He thought it would be fun to get such a reckless group of people to play, but as he recalls the cards he caught a glimpse of when they scattered all over his floor— entailing lap dances, a seven minutes in heaven session, and more— he can't help but let his mood sour. Especially with the way he remembers Kai asking him if you were single last time you all hung out.

"Maybe we should just go back to watching the movie," Beomgyu's comment stops your conversation instantly, confused at the sudden change of heart. "You're right, this game is too weird."

"What? C'mon, you can't be serious," you're not sure why you're suddenly advocating to keep playing this game— five minutes ago you would've jumped at the chance and dragged the two back onto the couch.

"What's the point of this game? It's just asking sex questions," Beomgyu says, "I don't want things to get awkward."

"At least wait for my turn!" the rational part of your mind is telling you to shut the fuck up and take the out, but for some reason (that's totally unrelated to the morbid curiosity pertaining Taehyun's undisclosed answer to his card) you continue to fight against Beomgyu. "Don't tell me you're scared of losing fifty bucks?"

"Seriously? You really wanna keep going?" Beomgyu's exasperated as the two of you nod, much to his surprise; he runs a hand through his hair, turning to you with tired eyes. You're not sure how the dynamic changed so fast. "Fine. But we'll stop after your turn is over."

"Yay!" It's childish, but there's this purse at the mall you've been eyeing for a while. Turning back to Taehyun, you bat your lashes at him, "so? You wanna take that shot, or…?"

"No way. I'm answering," Taehyun reads the card again, and you start to wonder if he has short-term memory. "Uhhmmm… Let me think. Top three is a bit hard."

"Oh, eugh," you say, pretending as though you weren't hanging off his every word, "you freak."

Taehyun laughs, and for someone that doesn't share much of his sex life, he doesn't seem to be uncomfortable in the slightest— you're not sure if it's a byproduct of your close friendship or something else.

"Mmmm… okay, first, I really like manhandling. Doing it, receiving it, doesn't matter," this one isn't as much of a shock to you and Beomgyu, as you remember him drunkenly revealing it after you pried on his commitment to the gym. "I like when people pull my hair, and… uhm, I like getting my neck kissed. It's pretty sensitive."

His confidence dies down at the end, and sure enough, Beomgyu looks like someone punched him in the stomach when you glance at him from your peripheral vision. Taehyun, for once, is a little sheepish as he lets his words hang in the air, running his hand through his hair just for his bangs to fall back in his face.

"Well, good to know," is all you say, throwing him a cheeky grin as you pull a card, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Please don't."

Too late, you wish you could say, I'll think about that every night. But of course you don't, letting out a soft chuckle as you flip the card over and read what it says.

"Oh. Lame," your disappointment is heavy, leaning back on your hand as you read the card out loud. "List all the crushes you've had."

"Hey, how come you guys get juicy questions and I barely get a challenge?" rolling your eyes, you tilt your head back and start listing off all the names you can remember.

"Uhhhhm, well we've only known each other since freshman year, so I'll just name people from back then to now. I had a huge crush on my TA in Psych100, I think his name was Yoongi," the two remember him well— they had to nurse your heartbreak after finding out he was fucking married, "there was this guy I saw at parties all the time, I think his name was Anton? We hooked up for a while, but he sucked— hmmm… Sophomore year was pretty boring, I think I ended up getting a coworker crush on this girl NingNing— I totally thought she was into me, turned out she had a fucking boyfriend. Ryujin, Sunghoon, his best friend Sunoo— super cute guy, but I think his preference for guys stopped us from actually getting together— and… damn, I think that's it."

It's definitely not it. You know this, and Beomgyu knows this too, because he watches intently as you skip past the three year crush you once drunkenly confessed to him that you had on Taehyun. You also skipped past the other three year crush you've had on your current roommate, but he doesn't need to know that. With the way Beomgyu raises his brow and tilts his head, you feel a chill run up your spine, ready to pounce on him if he decides to open that big mouth of his— you're straightening up when he does, an easygoing grin on his face as he stares you down.

"Are you sure that was it?" he says, leaning back against his hands, his head tilting to rest on his shoulder, "feels like you've had way more than that."

"I dunno, probably," while you try to shrug him off, your eyes scream don't you dare. "But if I counted all my hallway, library, and class crushes, I think we'd be here all night."

Beomgyu drops the subject after that, much to your surprise.

"Alright," you sigh, sitting up and looking back at the television that shows your paused movie, "Gyu, you owe me fifty bucks. Can you send it to me tonight, maybe? I wanna go shopping tomorrow morning."

"What? No way, you didn't win anything."

Your face is twisted into pure confusion, looking at Beomgyu as though he's sprouted another head. "What do you mean 'you didn't win anything'? I literally did."

"No," Beomgyu says, "the bet was that you'd be the first to turn down a card. No one turned down a card, so there's nothing to win."

"Ughhhh, you're joking," you're groaning again, letting your head fall back dramatically. Damn, you were already getting attached to that mall purse. Snapping back up, you're staring Beomgyu down with newfound determination. "Fine then. Let's keep going until someone turns down a card."

"Huh? No, we already agreed to watch the movie."

"And I'm changing my mind," a coy smile spreads on your face, and Beomgyu's brows knit together as he stares you down, in all your annoying glory.

"And I haven't agreed to either yet."

"Exactly," your head lolls to the side, letting out a giddy laugh at the way Taehyun sports an equally mischievous look. "Tyun, should we play another round?"

Beomgyu huffs. "I don't really think we—"

"Hell yeah," Taehyun grins, nodding at Beomgyu, "c'mon, your turn."

"Okay, whatever," Beomgyu is sitting back down with a huff, making sure you see him roll his eyes as he reaches for a card. "But you guys can't make anymore comments or complain about the game— you wanted to continue."

"Sure sure," you and Taehyun exchange amused looks. "Just read the card already, yeah?"

Beomgyu's eyes scan the card, and you watch his brows twitch before he finally reads it aloud. "Let the person on your right sit on your lap until you complete a dare."

He throws the card haphazardly on the rug, adjusting his position until he's sitting cross-legged, leaning back on his hand and patting his thigh. When you look up at him, he simply raises a brow, tongue poking at his cheek as he tilts his head coyly.

"What?" he has the audacity to smirk, his hair falling into his eyes, "I don't mind. Do you?"

"Not at all," you bite back, but it's really hard to pretend as though you're fighting to not let your eyes wander to his lap, those stupid sweatpants of his revealing more than you'd like as he spreads his legs even wider. You're moving over to him, settling on his lap until he's got you caged in, his arm thrown lazily around your waist.

You lean back into his chest in an attempt to seem in control, and he chuckles, leaning in close to your ear. "Comfy?"

"Mmm, I miss the rug, honestly," you say, fighting back a smile when he scoffs. Your eyes flicker over to Taehyun, who had been watching the scene with such intensity it startled you. "Quit staring and pick up a card, Tyun."

"Oh," His round eyes widen, as though surprised to have gotten caught blatantly staring. You can feel Beomgyu's chuckle reverberating in his chest, ever so fond of the man before you that reads his card, his lips parting in surprise.

"Oh?" you echo back, tilting your head back against Beomgyu's shoulder in an attempt to look at him, "I think it's time for you to cough up those fifty bucks."

"No, no," you're pouting at Taehyun's immediate defense, slumping in Beomgyu's arms as Taehyun clears his throat. "It's— this card kinda caught me off guard, that's all."

"Well?" Beomgyu says, "what does it say?"

Taehyun licks his lips before speaking. "What's the riskiest place you've ever done it?"

You can feel Beomgyu stiffen beneath you— meanwhile, you're sitting up in his lap, perking up with curiosity. If the way Taehyun places the card down like it's contaminated and avoids your gaze fervently is any indicator, you know you're about to get something juicy out of him.

"So? You gonna tell us or take a shot?" you're shifting excitedly in Beomgyu's lap, ignoring the way his fingertips dig into your waist, harsh enough to sting— your morbid curiosity barely allows you to register the sensation.

"Uhm, well," he's running a hand through his hair again, and there's a pink flush that's creeping up his chest. "It was… I dunno, junior year? That time we went to the bar to celebrate Kai's twenty-first…"

You're gasping, placing your hands on Beomgyu's thighs and sitting up further— you remember that night. The same night Taehyun disappeared and you went looking for him, worried sick while Beomgyu followed you around to make sure you didn't get swept up in distractions. The very night you drunkenly clung to Beomgyu, tears in your eyes as you finally confessed that you were worried sick because you liked him.

You don't like where this is headed.

"I… thought the bartender was really cute, and I dunno if you remember me talking with him all night, but…" his skin flushes a darker, delicate red, and you dig your nails into Beomgyu's thigh— you really don't like where this is headed.

"He told me he was off in thirty minutes and to wait for him outside…" Taehyun gulps, and you think this is the most embarrassed you've seen him all night. "We made out behind the bar and he— uhm, gave me a handjob. I think we almost got caught or something, because he had to put his hand on my mouth and tried to cover me up with his body halfway through. But… yeah. That's kinda it."

"You're joking," you breathe out, and it isn't until Beomgyu pinches your side that you realize you've been gripping to his thighs hard, jumping in his lap with a yelp before falling back dejectedly. Beomgyu caresses your side in a silent apology, well aware why you're reacting like this— Taehyun, however, merely scratches his nape and nods, oblivious as ever. "And you're only telling us now? You know I was looking for you all night, right? I was worried sick!"

"Yeah, I definitely remember," Taehyun's jab is meant to be playful, you know this— yet, you remember how you almost burst into drunken sobs, finding him after what felt like an eternity of searching, hanging off his concerned— and disheveled, you remember thinking— form. To think you had been falling apart for him while he was in the back of the bar getting fucked, and all he can do is laugh about it… God, there's a nasty pit forming in your stomach, and you don't like it.

"I thought you were getting fucking kidnapped, but noooo," you roll your eyes, crossing your arms and burrowing against Beomgyu's chest more, "You just had to be mysterious and go fuck the bartender."

"Hey, don't pretend like you didn't find the bartender hot too," Taehyun grins, nodding at the pile of cards between you. "Your turn."

"Whatever," you're a grumbling, pouty mess as you lean forward, putting your hand on Beomgyu's knee for stability as you grab a card. You hear Beomgyu suck in a breath behind you, his hands falling on your waist before he's helping you sit back up and against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, and he merely shrugs you off when you scold him for 'trying to take a peek'.

 The two of you freeze at the card's contents.

"What? What is it?" Taehyun is sitting up on his knees, leaning forward as though that would help him get a peek. "Dude, read it out loud!"

"Ah…" you're trailing off, your mind already racing as you reread the card.  "What's the most embarrassing item in your room? If you can, show the group."

The implications of your mortification is enough to have the three of you falling silent.

"Uhm, just…" Beomgyu's voice is tense against your ear, quiet enough for you to hear. "remember you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"So, you're taking a shot?" Taehyun grins, "and you owe us each fifty bucks?"

When you met Taehyun, you were instantly drawn to him due to how alike you were— your personalities were practically mirrors of each others, down to the horrendous competitive streak in your hearts. His words are enough to reignite said streak, and you see that stupid purse floating in your head like a mirage.

"Like hell I am," you say, standing with a dangerous vigor, "Wait here, it's better if I just show you."

You make the mistake of looking back as you stand, the two staring up at you with eager puppy eyes that shine with curiosity. They're glued to your every move, your confidence wavering and legs turned to pure jell-o. At the sight of your hesitation, Beomgyu cocked a brow.

"It's not too late for you to take a shot, y'know."

And so, you pushed forward and storm off to your room.

This can't be happening, your mind chants at you, an attempt to block out any other horrified thoughts that might stop you from continuing, this can't be happening this can't be happening this can't be happening. The four words roll over and over in your brain as you open the door to your bedroom, turning on the light and being met with your fairly clean space— clothes piled on your chair, a messy bed, makeup strewn about your desk— your mind is on autopilot as you make your way to your closet door.

Pushing aside your clothes, you fall to your knees to search for the shoe box that's tucked deep within your mess. When you finally re-emerge, you think your blood has frozen at the mere reminder of what you're about to do; you set the box on your bed with shaking hands, prying through the contents before you finally pick something out— you'll be honest, but to an extent. They don't need to know the full truth.

You make your way back to the living room with the item behind your hands, your thumbs grazing the material in an attempt to distract the feeling of their eyes pinned on you, as though afraid to miss the grand reveal.

"Beomgyu," you say, and he sits up in surprise, "I want those fifty bucks on my bedside table tonight."

He laughs, sporting a tense smile that was meant to ease the tension in the room. "Yeah, whatever. Come here and show us what you've brought."

The last shred of your dignity battles inside you, begging you to turn tuck your tail and surrender— but your pride is stronger, and you stand before them, revealing the pink handcuffs you've been holding onto for a while. They're leather, with lace trim and satin ribbons decorating them, and the longer you hold the item out to your friends, the more you feel like you'll pass out and die from humiliation.

"Huh," Taehyun is the first to speak up, "Didn't think you'd be into that."

"What? I— they've been sitting in my closet this whole time, I've never used them," your heart is pounding against your chest— fuck, wait, why are you telling them all this? "Yuna gave them to me as a joke Christmas last year— remember?"

You watch the two exchange a look, their mouths falling open in a silent 'ohhh.' Memories of last year's Secret Santa comes to mind, where you all sat in a circle unveiling your gifts to the group; when it was your turn, you were overjoyed to find everything from your wish list, only to be left in confusion as Yuna announced that "you should open that last box at home." The whole group laughed and teased you, and you remember sitting in your bed, horrified at the handcuffs that sat packed in a matching pink gift tissue.

"At least they're cute," you're both grateful and confused by Taehyun's comment, the attention switching from you to the boy who merely leans back on his hands and shrugs, "what? Are they not? They literally have ribbons on them."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were asking me to use them on you," you grin, eager to wash away any tension that was threatening to ruin the night— Beomgyu snickers as Taehyun sits back up, shaking his head defensively. Beomgyu pats his thigh, and you're taking your place back on his lap with a scoff.

"No way," Taehyun grimaces, "I don't know where those things have been."

"Weren't you listening? I said I've never used them!"

Taehyun smiles, cocking his head to the side. "Not sure if I believe that."

"Whatever," you roll your eyes, nudging Beomgyu's side and pointing to the stack of cards. The handcuffs remain in your lap and on display, but you try to pretend as though it doesn't bother you. "Your turn, c'mon."

Beomgyu's leaning forward, his chest pressing against you as he picks a card— his hand comes to your waist to steady you, his touch lingering as he leans back once more to look at his card.

"Damn. A truth card," Beomgyu sighs, flicking it to the center with distaste. "I was excited to get you off me."

You roll your eyes. "Read the damn card."

Beomgyu stares up at the ceiling, reciting the words from memory. "What is one thing you've never done in the bedroom that you'd be willing to try?"

"Uhm…." Beomgyu tilts his head back, now his turn to be lost in thought. You and Taehyun exchange a look, and he snickers while you raise a brow— a fitting card for Mr. Campus Heartthrob over here, always accompanied by an eye-candy hanging off his arm— if someone told you last year that you'd be rooming with Beomgyu, you would've been mortified at the thought of having to invest in noise cancelling headphones. Lucky you, he seemed to give up his flirty ways by the time you were under the same roof.

"Hard question?" you say, another minute of silence passing. "Not much you haven't done, I'm sure."

"Shut up," he sneers, and it's followed by a pinch to your inner thigh that makes you squeal.

"But… I dunno. I've never had any experiences with another guy before," he says, his voice a lot softer now— cautious, unsure. As though he wasn't aware of what was going to come out of his mouth next. "I guess I'd be willing to try that."

"What?" You and Taehyun say in unison, and you're twisting in Beomgyu's lap to send him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. He shrugs at first, until he realizes the severity of your confusion is much more than he was expecting, his face pulled into a dramatic frown.

"What the hell do you mean 'what'? Why is this so surprising to you?"

"Well, like—" you stop yourself, only finding the courage to continue after a glance at Taehyun shows you you're not alone in your thinking, "you've never done anything with guys? Ever?"

"Well, not really," Beomgyu says, "I've made out with a few cute guys here and there, maybe got a little handsy. But other than that, no— nothing under the clothes, at least."

"Wow," you say, and you're falling back against Beomgyu's chest, staring forward and at Taehyun, who is equally baffled.

"I thought you'd have way more experience than me, Gyu," Taehyun pipes up, and you can feel Beomgyu's chest puff with his scoff. Taehyun tilts his head, and you almost coo at the way his pupils absorb the light around him. "What's stopping you?"

"I just…" beside you, Beomgyu picks at the lint that has collected on the rug, his fingers running through the tufts restlessly. His thigh flexes beneath you. "Haven't found the right person, I guess. 's not like I'm not interested."

"And who would be the right person?"

Your question hangs in the air, thickening and growing until it feels like a looming presence on your shoulders. Your eyes flicker from the rug, to Taehyun's curious eyes, and up to Beomgyu's face, who looks like he'd rather die than answer that question.

Maybe, if you had gotten better cards— something more risky or intimidating— you would've been a little drunk, giving you an excuse for your prying behavior. And yet you're stone cold sober, and you should know better than to say the things you do.

"I'm honestly more surprised you two have never done anything together."

If you were in their shoes, you think you'd strangle yourself right now. Instead, they're positively floored by your comment, blinking owlishly at you, as though attempting to suck you into the deep black holes of their irises. Their pointed glares make your shrink into Beomgyu's chest, a false sense of security as you breathe out a weak laugh and pick at your nails.

"What? You make a good pair."

"Huh? Us?" Taehyun seems a little breathless at the thought, a fresh flush spreading along his collarbones, creeping up his neck and curling around his ears.

"If anything, I thought you two had something going on." when your brows jump halfway up your forehead, he gestures vaguely at you two, "I mean, look at you."

you can feel Beomgyu's chin rest against the top of your head as you both look down at your current position— you, curled up in Beomgyu's lap, with one arm still thrown carelessly around your waist, the other that played with the hem of your shirt dropping as though burned. You gulp so hard you're sure he can hear it.

"Well, we don't," you laugh, but it comes out too tense. "And don't change the subject."

Beomgyu, much to your surprise and gratitude, didn't attempt to deflect the allegations onto you and Taehyun instead— you're not sure your pounding heart would've been able to keep cool and stop yourself from blurting out something desperate.

"What? About me and Beomgyu?" There's not much to say on the matter, you know this, yet you nod like it's the most obvious thing ever anyway. "Okay, what do you want us to do about it?"

"I dunno, prove me wrong?" you can feel your lips tugging into an uneven, sneaky smile, your fingers coming up to brush against your neck as you stare Taehyun down, "Because as of now, I'm not convinced there's nothing going on between you."

"Shut up. That was a dare," Taehyun frowns, reaching toward the stack of forgotten cards, "speaking of, it's my turn."

Taehyun's eyes scan the card once— then twice, then another time before he's throwing it on the ground and reaching for the soju bottle— you lunge forward to snatch it away before he can get close.

"Nuh-uh, you know the rules," you grin, "what'd the card say?"

Taehyun shakes his head, his whole face blushing a gentle pink. "Doesn't matter. Gimme the bottle, I'll take two shots instead."

"No," you sneer, laying back against Beomgyu's chest, a wider, insufferable grin returning when Beomgyu's arms wrap around you and the soju bottle you hug against your chest. "What'd the card say?"

He's avoiding your gaze— this time, it's Beomgyu that leans forward to snatch the card from the ground, Taehyun's reaction much too slow for him to retaliate. For a second, he attempts to chase after the card, before falling back and watching Beomgyu flip the card toward you two in defeat. He reveals the contents just as you read it.

"Do you have, or have you ever had, a crush on anyone in this room?"

The card remains frozen in Beomgyu's hold. You both stare at the card as if the words might change at any moment— while you stare at the card in shock, Taehyun crawls over to you, snatching the soju bottle from your limp hands and pouring himself a shot. It's only after the liquid has gone through his throat that you're scrambling up for answers.

"What, wait, no— you have to tell us," you say, and Taehyun shakes his fervently. "No, c'mon, please! Do you still? Or was it in the past? Tyun, c'mon, don't leave us hanging!"

Beomgyu's pinching your side again, followed by a stern call of your name— you're falling back against him with a yelp, rubbing your side with a pout. "Stop interrogating him. If he doesn't wanna tell us then he doesn't have to."

"Whatever. Don't tell me you're not curious, Gyu," he doesn't answer you, and your eyes narrow as you watch Taehyun, who has yet to meet your gaze. "It's Beomgyu, isn't it?"

It's so easy to rile Taehyun up— you can't help the small smile that grows on your face as Taehyun's eyes widen, stumbling over his words. "It's not!"

"Oh?" Beomgyu says, pointing at you, "Then it's ___?"

"No!" Taehyun whines, running his hand down his face— his face gets redder the longer you stare him down. "Fuck! It doesn't matter, I literally took a shot, so I don't have to tell you! Isn't that how the game works?"

"I always thought you might've had a crush on Gyu," you smile, and Taehyun gapes at you in disbelief, "there was too much chemistry in that dare earlier."

"What're you talking about?" Taehyun is a bright red at this point, the flush extending down to his chest, "no there wasn't! And I don't!"

"He's right— he doesn't," Beomgyu says, and you watch Taehyun sag in relief, pointing at Beomgyu as if to say 'see?!' Beomgyu's hand comes up to cup your chin, squeezing your cheeks and moving your face side to side, "he has a crush on you. I don't know how you haven't noticed it yet."

You think Taehyun's jaw might just detach— he lets out a small whimper, pathetic and absolutely defeated.

"I just told you," he whines, "I don't have a crush on ___!"

"Then why'd you take a shot?" You say through your pout— Beomgyu giggles, squeezing your cheeks even more.

"I— it's a thing of the past," Taehyun says— he's taken to running his hand through his hair now, his locks an absolute mess, "I don't wanna talk about it, it's embarrassing."

You reach up for Beomgyu's wrist, pulling his hand off your face so you can talk. "What's so embarrassing about it? If it's in the past, then it shouldn't matter. We wouldn't care."

Taehyun shakes his head again. Beomgyu leans down, putting his chin on your shoulder— you can hear the wide smile on his face as he talks.

"He's lying."

"I'm not!" Taehyun has never sounded so unconvincing before— his desperation blooms a small heat in your stomach, unable to hide the fond smile you sport. He sighs, exasperated. "What do I have to do to make you believe me?"

"You could tell u—"

"Prove it." Beomgyu's approach is shut down as soon as the words leave your mouth. You can feel the two staring at your in pure shock, but you pretend that your proposition is no big deal as you play with the lace trim of your handcuffs. You're glad they can't hear the way your heart is pounding in your chest; you peer up at Taehyun through your lashes, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. "I dare you."

You watch Taehyun carefully. He could decline your dare and call you crazy— you'd be fine with it and give up your constant pestering, pretending as though this moment wouldn't haunt you every night. Your morbid curiosity has gotten you this far— sitting in Beomgyu's lap, telling each other things you swore you'd keep to yourself… so how bad could a little more prying be?

Beomgyu can't bring it in himself to scold you this time. Not when Taehyun is shifting in his spot, running his hands through his hair before finally looking at you with steeled eyes. He places his hands on the floor, and you find yourself breathing manually as he begins to crawl over to you.

Your heart is racing— fuck, can you really handle this?— and you shrink back into Beomgyu's chest as Taehyun kneels before you, staring down at you with a look you're well acquainted with; once he's set his mind on something, there's nothing that can make Taehyun back down.

He reaches out, cradling your cheek in his hand. Your limbs feel heavy as you force yourself to hold his stare, and he caresses your cheekbone with your thumb, silently waiting for you to back down. A minute passes and you have yet to push him away; instead, you sit up in Beomgyu's lap, leaning forward in anticipation.

A soft exhale passes through Taehyun's lips, then he's leaning down to close the space between you; your heart feels like it might explode, your mind running a million miles before it stops to a blank— years spent pining silently after him, and it's all led you to this. You don't know whether to celebrate or kick yourself.

His lips are so soft; of course they are, he has a habit of putting on lip balm every hour. His lips are plump as they move against yours, and you try your best to hold back from pushing further and getting a taste of the plum soju that lingers on his tongue— he pulls back far too soon, and you're breathless as your eyes flutter open, only to find him already staring down at you.

He doesn't say anything. For a moment, you're scared the lovestruck look in your eyes might've given you away and he's too afraid to hurt your feelings. Your lips are parted and you feel out of breath, the warmth of his palm on your skin slipping as he pulls away; you have half the mind to swallow back a whine, your heart beginning to race once more as he looks up at Beomgyu.

There are no words exchanged, just a weighted look and Taehyun's hand that reaches out for Beomgyu's nape— you're shrinking in on yourself and moving to the side, just to watch Taehyun lean in and kiss Beomgyu next.

There's not a single coherent thought in your mind as you watch them; they start off hesitant, stiff, Beomgyu's brows furrowing before Taehyun's lips finally begin to move. Beomgyu's eager to reciprocate, the hand that's not on your waist reaching up to grab Taehyun's shoulder. You watch Taehyun's fingers curl into Beomgyu's nape, the latter much bolder than you as his tongue darts out to lick at the seam of Taehyun's lips— his hand is moving from Taehyun's shoulder to his jaw, and the two are tilting their heads in search for more.

It should be embarrassing, the way you're shifting in Beomgyu's lap and letting out a soft whine— the two are breaking apart at the sound, turning to you with hazy eyes. Just when you think they might jump apart and laugh the tension off, Beomgyu is sweeping in to close the distance between you next.

Beomgyu's kiss is urgent— the shock that spikes through your body is ebbing away the longer he pulls you into him, a soft sigh escaping him the moment you begin to kiss him back; you're desperate, grabbing at his shirt and keeping his close, only pulling away once you're out of breath.

You're catching Taehyun's gaze next, and he's reaching for your wrist before pulling you into him once more; the dare has been long forgotten. Instead, Taehyun is prying your lips apart, his tongue quick to lick along your mouth, sucking your bottom lip before pulling away to bite it. It's enough to bring out another quiet mewl from you, and when you part from him, Taehyun is instantly moving back to kiss Beomgyu.

They're insatiable; if you weren't sitting in Beomgyu's lap, you're sure they wouldn't have an inch of space between them, panting into each others mouths with such desperation it has the heat in your stomach intensifying. Leaning in, you begin to plant kisses along Beomgyu's collarbone, trailing up his neck and sucking gently at the skin— when you bite at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, he whines, pulling away from Taehyun to look at you.

He's leaning in to kiss you again, and you try to keep up with the urgency of it, whining softly in his mouth as he caresses your side; Taehyun's lips are meeting your neck, sucking behind your ear, kissing at your jaw, nipping at the skin just to feel you jump against the two when they discover your weakest spots.

The weight of them against you is too much, but even as you begin to lean back, they chase after you, until your back meets the soft rug on the floor and the two are hovering over you.

Beomgyu's pulling away from your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before trailing along your jaw and down your neck, the two pulling soft gasps from your lips— Taehyun's hand is splayed on your stomach, his fingertips pressing against the waistband of your shorts teasingly. A particularly harsh bite near your collarbones has your hips jumping, and Beomgyu chuckles, parting from your neck just to give you a coy smile.

"Y'know, Tyunnie," Beomgyu says, reaching out to tangle his fingers in Taehyun's hair— he hums, only to let out a weak whine when Beomgyu pulls his head away from your neck and toward him, the two hovering above you, "this isn't exactly proving us wrong."

His grip on Taehyun's hair tightens, pulling him closer, Beomgyu's lips brushing against Taehyun's as he speaks, "are you sure you don't have any feelings for us?"

"I…" Taehyun doesn't get to finish, because Beomgyu's pulling him in once more, a small whimper escaping Taehyun the moment their lips meet; you watch with hazy eyes as they chase each other's mouths, your fingers tracing over your lips in longing— Taehyun's hand pushes against your stomach, and your breath hitches as his fingertips wander lower, lower, until he's pushing past your waistband and panties, his fingertips caressing your mound until he finds your swollen clit; you're arching into his touch, letting out a broken moan as he rubs slow circles into your clit.

Beomgyu's lips trail to his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck and sucking at the skin until marks begin to bloom, a soft pink that has Taehyun panting into the air and tangling his free hand into Beomgyu's hair— Beomgyu reaches for Taehyun's shoulder, sinking his teeth in just as his hand finds the bulge straining against Taehyun's sweatpants; Taehyun moans, his eyes screwing shut, and Beomgyu pulls away to admire his work, the marks of his teeth showing proudly on Taehyun's skin. He places a soft skin on the mark before glancing over at you.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, and you squirm against the rug, Taehyun's fingers pressing down more on your clit— Beomgyu cups his hand against Taehyun's cock, tracing the length and palming it just to feel the man shiver against him. Your hips chase after Taehyun's fingers, mouth parted as you moan softly. Beomgyu grins, resting his forehead against Taehyun's shoulder. "I bet you are, watching us like this."

"He's so cute, isn't he?" he glances up at Taehyun through his lashes, palming his length harder; Taehyun's hips stutter and his fingers slip, his hand retreating as he gets lost in the pleasure. "I'm barely doing anything— look how I've got him already."

Beomgyu squeezes Taehyun's length, chuckling at the way Taehyun jumps, his hand encasing Beomgyu's wrist— he leans up to place a kiss on Taehyun's cheek before looking back down at you.

"Y'know, I'm sure he'd look even cuter once you got your hands on him too." He nuzzles against Taehyun's cheek, his smile widening when Taehyun whimpers out his name. "C'mere baby, don't just lay there."

You scramble to sit up, but before you can join Taehyun's side, Beomgyu's nodding at the floor— you look over at what he was pointing to, and your heart begins to race the moment your hands come in contact with your handcuffs.

Beomgyu shifts to give you room, and you hold Taehyun's face in your hands before pulling him in for a kiss. You seriously think you might combust at any second— you never thought you'd find yourself here, with Taehyun's face in your hands and his lips against yours, his hips seeking friction as you press your body against his, his cock grinding against you. You hear a few clicks, and Taehyun is whining into your mouth, pulling back before resting his head on your shoulder.

You're locking eyes with Beomgyu, who motions you to look down with a smug smile— when you do, you're met with Taehyun's hands curling up into fists, his wrists bound by your handcuffs.

"Fuck," you breathe out, and Taehyun buries his head deeper into your neck, his face hot with humiliation— you thread your fingers through his hair, unable to look away from the way he pulls at the restraints, "you're right Tyun… these are cute."

"When Yuna gave me these, I never saw the point in using them," you're pushing Taehyun back with a firm hand against his chest, watching him hit the rug with a soft grunt. He stares up at you with wide eyes, his hair splayed out like a halo. You throw a leg over Taehyun's waist, sitting just under his neglected cock. "But they look perfect on you."

"They totally do," Beomgyu's sliding up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. His fingers splay out against your navel, watching you put your hands on Taehyun's stomach, toying with his shirt that has lifted up, exposing his stomach. "Guess they've found their rightful owner. "

Nodding, you're running your hands up his stomach, watching him flinch at your touch— you're pushing his shirt above his chest, watching him squirm as you scratch your nails down his skin, his brows furrowing as he whimpers softly. You laugh, digging your nails into his sides before you're pulling at his waistband.

"They truly have," you murmur, leaning back against Beomgyu's chest. He's lifting his hips to help you pull down his clothes, his cock painfully hard as it bobs up, hitting his stomach and leaving a sticky trail of precum behind. Your eyes narrow at you take him in, his blushed chest just as red as his cock that twitches under your gaze. You runs your nails up his thighs, watching him squirm as you rest your hands at his hipbones. "Is this how you like it, Tyun? Like getting pushed around like this?"

Taehyun merely stares up at you with teary eyes, his bottom lip trembling.

"Awh, don't cry baby," you coo, "you're not fooling anyone."

You wrap your hand around his length, and his eyes roll back, his hips thrusting up to try and get friction. Beomgyu laughs, his own hand pushing beneath your waistband.

"Look at him," he says, "so fucking hard already."

"You're enjoying this just as much," Beomgyu presses a kiss to your neck, and your hold on Taehyun falters as his hand slips past your panties, swiping two fingers along your slit to collect your slick; slowly, he circles your clit, his other hand sliding up your shirt to cup your breast, "Tyunie, you should feel how wet she is already. Soaking my fucking hand."

"I— I want to," Taehyun says, his hips rolling up as you begin to pump his length— it's slow, much too slow for his liking, your pace teasing as he silently begs for more, "please, can I?"

"Maybe," you grin, leaning your head against Beomgyu's. He circles your clit a little harder, and you breathe out a small moan, "If you're good."

"I'll be good," Taehyun breathes out, squirming against the rug as you twist your hand against his tip; your grip is harsh, his tip leaking with so much precum that the room is filled with the wet noises of you pumping his cock, his mouth falling open as you glide up to his tip and swipe your palm against it— you watch him sink his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle a moan, his eyes rolling back; you keep your pace slow just to watch him fall apart. "I'll— I'll be so good for you."

"How desperate," Beomgyu's tilting his head so it can rest against yours, his fingers curling against your walls just right— he laughs when your hips stutter and your pace falters, the way you squeeze Taehyun's cock making the said boy let out a yelp, "it's cute."

Beomgyu's begun to follow the pace you've set for Taehyun; When your hand stills along his length, opting to trace your fingertips along Taehyun's flushed, leaking tip, Beomgyu takes initiative to slip his fingers out of you, tracing careful circles along your clit, smearing your panties with arousal, chuckling lowly when you squirm and beg for more.

He's trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and as he slips his fingers back into your cunt, you can't help the way your grip loosens on Taehyun's cock, your head resting against Beomgyu's as you let out a weak moan of his name. He presses a soft kiss against your skin, and you can feel the smile on his face, his eyes flickering back to the man that writhes helplessly beneath you.

"C'mere, doll," his hand that rested on your breast has trailed up, fingers fluttering along your jaw before they're prodding at your lips. He curves his fingers into your sweet spot, grinding his palm against your clit just to watch your mouth fall open— two fingers slip inside, and he coos, "there we go, open up for me."

You're barely able to register the way your mouth eagerly receives him, your tongue wrapping around his lithe fingers and your lips closing to suction around them. He groans, the two watching intently as Beomgyu begins to thrust his fingers into your mouth, his pace matching his fingers that are buried in your cunt.

He starts gently, fingertips lingering against your tongue, brushing against your walls; you moan around his hand as he speeds up, feeling the weight of their stares as Beomgyu begins to press harder against your tongue, prying your mouth open so he can slip in a third digit— drool pools at the corners of your mouth, and you watch through bleary eyes as Taehyun's neglected cock twitches and jumps at the sounds you make, his biceps flexing as he attempts to break the handcuffs.

"What a pretty mouth," Beomgyu says, his lips tracing the shell of your ear, he presses a kiss against your temple, letting you lean your head back against his shoulder as he stares down at Taehyun. "Feels so good, letting me fuck your mouth like this. Oh, Tyun-ah, baby, you're missing out— her mouth feels like heaven."

"Fuck—" Taehyun sighs, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up into the air, desperate for something, anything, "please— please, touch me, Gyu, I wanna feel her, feel you— anything, please."

"Hmmm," Beomgyu nuzzles his cheek against your head, pressing his fingers deep into your cunt just as he slips his fingers far into your mouth and presses down against your tongue— you gasp and choke around him, your hands flying up to hold his forearm— you can feel the vibrations in his chest as he chuckles, curling his fingertips inside you until a broken moan escapes you. He turns to you, watching intently as you fight to keep your watering eyes on him. "What do you think, angel?"

He taps his fingers against your tongue before pulling them out, a thin string of saliva attaching from his fingertips to your lips; your jaw is sore when you try to speak, blinking away tears as you clear your throat.

"I think he's been good," you say, your voice hoarse— you turn to Taehyun, who moans when your eyes meet— his back arches and he pushes his hips up, cock bobbing against his stomach eagerly; there's a pool of precum smeared against his skin, and you smile, "you've been so patient, Tyunnie— I think you deserve a reward."

He whines, squirming restlessly beneath you. "Please."

"I agree," Beomgyu watches your hand reach down for Taehyun's cock, wrapping gently around his aching length— a mere touch from you is enough to bring a chill down Taehyun's spine. "Been such a good boy, haven't you baby?"

Your hand lingers at the base of Taehyun's cock, squeezing his length and cooing when he lets out a whine of your name— before you can start your pace again, Beomgyu's reaching down for Taehyun's flushed tip, his fingers coated with your spit tracing along his slit; Taehyun gasps, and you watch as he struggles against the handcuffs once more, his cheeks flushing pink as Beomgyu places his hand on top of yours and begins to guide you along his length.

"Such a pretty cock," Beomgyu murmurs, and you're humming in agreement. "You're leaking so much, Tyun. Aren't you embarrassed?"

Taehyun's cock shines from the combination of Beomgyu's fingers soaked in your spit and his sticky precum, filthy noises filling the room as Beomgyu squeezes your hand tighter on his cock— Taehyun pants, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to stutter out a rebuttal, all words failing him as you begin to pick up the pace; instead, he finds himself begging for release.

"Please," he cries out, his hips beginning to roll up into your hands, "please, 'm so close— gonna cum, fuck fuck fuck, ah—"

You can feel Beomgyu chuckle behind you, leaning forward to get a better look— you're no better, your eyes glued to the way Taehyun thrusts his cock up into your hands, his lip trembling and voice wavering as he whines out both your names; his eyes flutter as he looks up at you, tears weighing down his waterline.

"Give him a kiss, yeah?" Beomgyu murmurs, pushing you down to Taehyun, "looks like he's dying for one. "

Your hand lets go of Taehyun's cock, placing itself next to his head instead for stability. Hovering over him, you pause and take in the sight— Taehyun's hair splayed over the rug beneath him, his eyes shining up at you and his mouth hung open as he pants, the slick sounds of Beomgyu's hand continuing to pump Taehyun's cock— and you cup Taehyun's face, tilting his head toward you and closing what little space was left.

He can barely reciprocate— you're swallowing the tiny moans and whines he lets out, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and feeling his body twitch beneath you; he's a panting, desperate mess, and you're pulling away to place soft kisses along his face instead; on the corner of his mouth, his cupids bow, his cheeks, the corner of his eye where you taste his tears— and his back arches, arms flexing in protest.

"I'm… gonna cum…" his eyes are shut tight, a pout on his lips as he speaks, "please… can I?"

"Oh, baby," you coo, brushing back Taehyun's bangs, sweat beading at his hairline as he stares at you eagerly— he's right on the edge, you can tell, his breath stuttering as he tries to hold back— your nails scratch at his scalp, and he leans into your touch as you sweep down for another short kiss. "Of course you can. Be good and cum for us."

He cums with a broken whimper, his back arching and his hips pushing up against Beomgyu's hand— Beomgyu pumps his cock and helps him ride out his orgasm, murmuring soft praises that make Taehyun curl into you, breathing out moans of your names against your skin.

Glancing over your shoulder, you find Beomgyu's eyes glued to Taehyun's cock, a small smile tugging at his lips as he continues to pump Taehyun— he jolts as Beomgyu's hand squeezes his length, burying his head into your neck as he lets out a weak cry. "Fuck— t-too much, too much, please, fuck, 'm so sensitive…"

You can feel his tears on your skin, letting out a chuckle as you turn back to Taehyun and kiss his temple. Sitting back up, you let your hands trail down his chest, admiring your work as you feel Beomgyu's chest press against you.

"Cute," Beomgyu's resting his chin on your shoulder once more, his hand still holding onto Taehyun's cock idly. "You sound so pretty when you cum, Tyunnie."

Taehyun, in an attempt to hide the way his face blushes, turns his head to the side, nuzzling his cheek into his curved shoulders.

"Came so much, too…" Beomgyu's holding his hand up for the two of you to see; he spreads his fingers, smiling at the way Taehyun's cum coats them, strings of it sticking between his digits and dripping down his hand. His other hand has found the waistband of your pajama shorts, tugging at it in silent request. "We shouldn't let this go to waste."

Nodding, you follow Beomgyu's request, sliding off your shorts and panties, letting Beomgyu toss the clothing to the side. Taehyun merely watches through lidded eyes as Beomgyu trails his hand down, his adam's apple bobbing when Beomgyu's fingers spread your folds open.

"God, angel, you're dripping," Beomgyu groans, and as he slides his fingers along your slit, his other hand comes up to hold your face, his fingers digging in your cheeks as he forces you to hold Taehyun's stare. "Does it feel good? You like me fucking Tyunnie's cum into you?"

"Y-yes," you gasp, Beomgyu's fingers sliding in knuckle deep in one thrust. Taehyun gasps, his cock beginning to get hard once more as he watches Beomgyu pump his fingers into you, "Gyu… please, need m-more.."

Though Beomgyu scoffs, his fingers press deeper into you, his palm grinding against your clit just the way you like— you moan, pressing your hands against Taehyun's navel, his cock twitching at the sounds; Beomgyu's teeth nip at your neck, "Didn't think you'd both be so whiny."

"Look at you two— so fucking needy, humping my hand like this," He's squeezing your cheeks, forcing you to pout as he forces you to lean down, hovering over Taehyun, "and he's already fucking hard again. Pathetic."

"Do you want me to fuck you two?" Beomgyu says— a broken moan leaves you, Taehyun breathing out a soft yes— Beomgyu's hand leaves your face in favor of gripping Taehyun's cock, his hips jolting up as a whine leaves him. "I need you to tell me."

"Yes—"

"Please, Gyu, need it—"

Beomgyu laughs as you pleas overlap, his fingers slipping out of your cunt— when you whine, he slaps your clit, doing it again after watching you jolt and yelp.

"You two sound so good when you beg," he slips two fingers into you, easing you open and slipping out after deeming you ready— you're reaching back, your hand on Beomgyu's thigh as you shift in anticipation, only to gasp as Beomgyu aligns Taehyun's tip against your entrance, the two of you whimpering at the feeling. "Now show me how bad you want it."

Taehyun's tip feels big against your entrance, despite Beomgyu easing you open earlier; you try to take your time as you feel him slide into you, his eyes rolling back as his cock slips into your warm walls, doing his best to refrain from fucking up into you— you hold your breath as he stretches you open, hesitant to take more of him; Beomgyu's hands land on your waist, and before you realize what he's doing, you're taking the rest of Taehyun's cock in one smooth thrust, the two of you moaning loudly in surprise.

"There we go," Beomgyu grins, not giving you a chance to adjust as he begins to slide you up and down Taehyun's cock. He's so thick, his cock curving perfectly into your walls and leaving your legs trembling, "c'mon, don't act all sweet on me now. Ride him properly, baby."

Seeing Taehyun like this under you is enough to make you want to pass out— he's nothing but a melted puddle of need, his eyes shining cutely as he watches you ride him with pure adoration; his biceps bulge and flex as he strains against the handcuffs, clearly desperate to touch you. The sight is enough to give you a confidence boost, steadying your hands on his stomach as you begin to roll your hips, taking him deeper and squeezing around him.

"'Atta girl," Beomgyu says, his hand coming down to land a harsh smack! On your ass. You yelp, and he's smoothing his palm over your heated skin, "you look so fucking good like this."

You don't miss the way Taehyun's cock twitches inside you, his eyes glued to the way your hips roll into him, a soft moan escaping him when Beomgyu lands another spank on your ass.

"Feels good, tyun?" with a shaky hand, you cup his face, forcing his dazed eyes to meet yours. "You like when Gyu talks like that?"

"Mm— uh-huh…" he's barely able to get a single word out, rendered incoherent with the way you squeeze him, "want… you to talk to me like that…"

His request has your cunt squeezing him again, and you have to force yourself to concentrate on making a proper sentence— but it's really hard to when Taehyun keeps staring up at you with those sparkling, desperate doe eyes.

"You feel so good inside me, baby…" you coo, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, flushed a delicate pink, "your cock is so perfect, y'know that?"

"You were made to sit there and take it— you look so perfect like this," you're leaning down, his breath fanning against your lips as he cranes his neck forward, trying to kiss you but failing with a broken whimper, "we should just keep you like this, don't you think? Don't you wanna be a cute little toy for me and Gyu?"

"Yes, yes yes—" he gasps, his hips bucking up and meeting your rhythm halfway, "I'd do anything, anything for you…"

"Anything?" Beomgyu pipes up, his hands splayed on your stomach as he forces you to take Taehyun to the base, guiding your hips to a gentle roll; Taehyun nods eagerly. "Would you let us keep you here as our little pet? Sit around waiting for us to come home, letting us use you when we need you?"

"Yes!" Taehyun's breathless, hips rutting up into you, "yes, fuck…!"

"So obedient," Beomgyu purrs, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back— he's guiding you down, until your forearms are braced on the sides of Taehyun's head, your back arching as Beomgyu keeps pressing down; you hear rustling behind you, and when you try to look over your shoulder, Beomgyu's other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling at the roots before guiding you to kiss Taehyun. "Stay still for me, won't you?"

He holds you there, and you're too distracted with Taehyun's messy kiss to realize Beomgyu's let go of you, discarding his clothes and pumping his aching cock— it's only when you feel Beomgyu's cockhead prodding at your stuffed entrance that you jolt away from Taehyun with a gasp, glancing over your shoulder with wide eyes.

"Gyu—"

"Shhh," he runs his cock along your entrance, trailing his tip down Taehyun's length— the two of you gasp, and you feel Taehyun shifting to try and see what Beomgyu is doing; his cockhead lingers at your entrance, pressing gently against it— not enough to push in, just enough for the two of you to feel it. He tilts his head, a breathless moan leaving him as he sees the way arousal leaks out of you. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you both?"

His words bring a shiver down your spine; you're dropping your head into the crook of Taehyun's neck, arching your back and presenting your pussy to Beomgyu— you hear him laugh, your fingers absentmindedly running through Taehyun's hair when you hear him whine. Without warning, Beomgyu begins to push in.

Surprisingly, he takes his time, easing his cockhead in until your cunt stretches around him, sinking himself in inch by inch. The stretch is brutal, and you feel Beomgyu's hand caressing along your back, murmuring to breathe— when he's halfway there, you mewl, and Taehyun kisses your shoulder in quiet reassurance.

You feel as though your breath has been punched out of you once Beomgyu's hips press against your ass, now fully inside you; he's not as thick as Taehyun, but he's so big, the stretch of the two combined making your arms give out as you lay on top of Taehyun. The three of you remain like this, quiet whimpers escaping you when you feel their cocks twitch inside you— a minute passes before you feel your cunt relax, and they begin to move inside you.

It's mostly Beomgyu who's fucking into you— Taehyun cries into your ear, his hips twitching as he whines about how sensitive his cock is, overwhelmed at the feeling. Their rhythm is slow and clumsy; Beomgyu is bottoming out inside you slowly, grinding his hips into you just to feel Taehyun's cock twitch against him. You shiver at the feeling, your cunt stretched full as they both begin to thrust into you, slowly gaining the confidence to fuck into you harder.

"Oh— god…" Beomgyu groans, his hips slapping into you, sending your body rocking against Taehyun, who continues to squirm beneath you, desperate to touch you as he settles for kissing along your exposed skin instead— looking over your shoulder, you meet eyes with Beomgyu, who looks just as destroyed by the sight of you two looking up at him. "F-fuck… you two look… so good like this…"

Taehyun lets out the cutest whimper at Beomgyu's words, and you're turning your attention back on him, watching him squeeze his eyes in embarrassment.

"Oh?" Beomgyu hums, leaning down until he hovers over you; he grinds his hips deep into you, listening to you mewl at the way their cocks grind against your most sensitive spots, their balls pressing against your sensitive clit. He reaches for Taehyun's face, cradling his cheek and swiping away a stray tear. "You look like you're having fun, Tyun."

"Don't tell me you've never thought of this before," Beomgyu pulls out, just enough to feel his tip catch your entrance, before setting a harsh pace that knocks the breath out of you.

"Have you every thought of her?" he asks, breathless, "of me?"

You bury your head deeper into Taehyun's neck, moaning at the mere thought— you can feel Taehyun's chest moving as he pants, attempting to thrust up into you and match Beomgyu's pace.

"I've… yeah…"

It feels like the fog in your brain has cleared just enough to tune into Taehyun's words; with shaky arms, you push yourself up just enough so you can search Taehyun's face for any signs of a lie— instead, you find him staring up at Beomgyu with low-lidded, soft eyes that speak nothing but the truth.

Your throat feels dry— you force yourself to swallow before you speak.

"You've what?"

His head lolls to the side, his cock twitching the moment your eyes meet; a small, shy smile grows on his lips.

"Thought of… both of you…"

Everything hits you at once— your arms give in as you fall back into Taehyun's chest, your body locking up as the pleasure hits you in one, overwhelming wave. Before you can warn either of them, you're cumming with a loud cry, your cunt fluttering and clenching tightly against them.

"Fuck—!" Beomgyu gasps, his hands flying to your waist and gripping you tightly, trying to guide you on his cock that your cunt attempts to squeeze out— the two fuck you through your release, as your hips chase their cocks and press back against Beomgyu his orgasm follows shortly after; he's pressing his hips as deep as he can and filling you up, his cum seeping out and coating his and Taehyun's cock.

Beomgyu's hips continue to rut inside you even after his orgasms subsides, letting out soft groans at the sensitivity— just when you think he'll pull out, you feel Taehyun's chest arch against yours, a broken moan leaving him as he gasps that he's cumming again; his orgasm is gentler than the last, but strong nonetheless, his hips stuttering and his cock rubbing against Beomgyu's as he fills you up.

You remain where you are, attempting to catch your breath; Beomgyu's scatters kisses along your neck, whispering against your skin that you did so well, such a perfect angel— Taehyun shifts beneath you, and when he clears his throat, you're sitting up on your hands once more.

"I…" Taehyun starts, and when he finds the way you two stare him down, he looks away, his ears bright red as he finds the courage to say what he needs to.

"I really like the two of you." You can feel your body go numb— behind you, Beomgyu's hold on you tightens. "I've always wanted you two, you know."

Taehyun, with his remaining burst of courage, turns to face you once more; you find that familiar, stubborn fire lighting his eyes.

"I want you to be mine— I don't care if it's weird, I just… I can't hold back anymore." He gulps. "I want you two to be mine."

The silence that follows is deafening. If Taehyun hadn't been handcuffed and held down by both you and Beomgyu, you're sure he would've darted away from the humiliation.

You're sitting up, wincing as Beomgyu pulls out of you— their cum leaks out of you and onto Taehyun, but he doesn't seem to mind; he's too busy gauging your reactions for an answer.

"Uh—" you're dumbfounded. This is the last thing you were expecting. Out of all the outcomes you'd anticipated from this— ruined friendships, friends with benefits, laugh it off and pretend this never happened— this was not on that list. You look behind you, only to find Beomgyu equally floored. You raise a brow, and he shrugs, his face twisting up in an expression that yells 'I don't fucking know??' You go to speak, but have to start over when your voice cracks.

"Th— The three of us can't actually date, can we?"

Out of all the responses Beomgyu had been expecting from you, you can tell this certainly wasn't one of them. His eyes widen and it becomes your turn to shrug, your face screwing up with uncertainty. You're sure he can read your thoughts loud and clear: 'I don't know why I said that.'

"Why not?"

You're both snapping back to Taehyun— he looks so small like this, staring up at you with glassy eyes and bruised lips that have been pulled to a pout; he tilts his head to the side, and you think your heart stops at the sight.

"Do you guys… not like me back?"

Another pause ensues. You sigh, and Beomgyu runs a hand through his hair.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, he got us there."

You look back at Beomgyu once more— this time, the both of you simply shrug.

Well… you suppose you have two boyfriends now.

Safe to say, you have a lot to talk about once you all get cleaned up— oh, and you'll never underestimate the power of Beomgyu's questionable purchases ever again.

He likes to read in the morning. 

He likes his wine in the evenings. 

His sword must be polished. 

His bath must be drawn at sunset. 

Your robes must be tied like so. 

Your obedience is the King’s right, not yours. You will be perfect, and if he must ask twice…

Well, let’s not dwell on such consequences. 

You are given to the other handmaidens, all plucked from scattered villages much like your own. They like to exchange tales of their time with the King. Some are kind, others are cruel. The only thing that can be agreed upon is that his mercy for mistakes is scarce, if granted at all. 

This frightens you. 

Because you are awful. 

Despite your month of training, you cannot choose a book wisely. You cannot pour the wine from such a distance as expected, not without spilling. No matter how you try, the motions you use, the King’s glittering sword continues to smudge. The bath waters are never warm enough. You cannot perform the special knot required for your robes, so it keeps sagging by midday. 

What you can do is be obedient, but tragically, not perfect. Not the way the King needs you to be. You have labelled yourself useless, and when it is eventually your turn to truly serve him, you fear he might have your head. 

The other women don’t care. They’ve all served their time with him, and they care little for who might take their place. 

All they want is to go home. 

So do you. 

You meet with the King on your final day of training, not because you’ve been summoned, but because he manages to observe your poor form. You’re with the eldest handmaiden, and bless her sweet soul, she tries to help you. 

“Trust yourself,” she advises, her voice like a summer sky. So clear, so beautiful. “You pour the wine like so, with your hand steady,” she demonstrates for you, as she always does. Her eyes are closed, and of course, she pours it perfectly. 

When you try, your hand trembles, the wine splitting down the edge of the goblet, pooling onto the wooden table. 

You weren’t aware that he’d entered the room, mistaking the sudden silence for judgment. It is only when he speaks that you grow taut. 

“Leave.”

The other handmaiden bows, scuttling away with the other attendants. You go to follow, but the King looks at you, pinning you in place. You’ve been staring down at the floor, deathly afraid you might meet his eye. 

“You cannot pour my wine, polish my sword, nor draw my bath. Is there anything you can do?”

So he’s been told by the others. The shame bleeds into an ache. 

You’ve come to decide that the King is like his glittering blade. Pretty, but holds the promise of something sharp—that no matter how decorated, it is a weapon, and it will cut you down. 

You feel your body quivering as you hold back tears. “I can be obedient, my Grace. I can be better.”

“I do not want better. I want perfection.”

You clench your eyes shut, cutting off the threat of escaping tears. “I want to be perfect, my Grace. More than anything.” You despise the hesitation in your voice. 

“Look at me.”

The command has you inwardly crumple, so very frightened. Yet, by your word, you obey. 

You’ve never seen the King directly before, not at such a close distance, and the sight bewilders you. Pale hair flows down his decorated form, his features ironically kind and gentle. Like gemstones, his blue eyes gleam, only to shift into something spiteful as they hold your own. Heat floods through you as he slowly rakes you down, scrutinising every inch of you—the King sneers. 

“You received my letter to serve? I should rescind the offer. You are… inadequate.”

You might very well black out from the mortification. You bow to him anyway, several stray tears slipping free.  

“Nothing to say in your defense?” He sounds disgusted. 

With a gentle tone, rasped by pain, you say, “No, my Grace. I agree with you entirely.”

He walks toward you, his decorative armour tinkling like shrine bells. With two gloved fingers, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look back up at him. Your pitiful tears have soiled the fabric of his gloves, and the King clicks his tongue with distaste. 

“I am merciful today,” he announces to you, his tone pure ice. “I will keep you for one month. If you do not improve…” he does not need to finish his sentence. The threat is in his arctic gaze. 

“I will improve, my Grace,” you whisper. “I will be perfect.”

“For who?” His fingers retreat, only so he can pinch your jaw. 

“For you, my Grace. I will be perfect for you.” 

The King leans in until his nose aligns with yours. “Say it again. Slower.”

He doesn’t pull away; he’s so close that his mouth is hovering above yours, his breath warm and sweet from his morning tea.

“I will be perfect for you, my Grace.” Your voice trembles, breathy and strained by his grip on your chin. Your words brush against his parted lips as if he’s tasting them. 

The King snaps away, releasing you with impeccable speed. “Get out.”

You do not hesitate to obey. 

+++

You are not perfect, but you are better. 

When the king is bathing, you wait behind the screen, re-tying your robes over and over until your fingers go numb. When he is in the courtyard practicing with his sword, you hide behind the shields, pouring cheap servant wine into a cup, willing the motion to sink into your bones. 

You do these things, and you do not sleep until you must.

But as your time as handmaiden continues, you learn other things. You know that the King prefers his meals to be eaten outside if the breeze is light and the sunset golden, or arranged inside if the clouds hang thick. You learn that he enjoys harps in the morning, but the cello in the evening. You have these things organised, knowing his mood from the very second he awakens. 

 He does not speak to you, doesn’t even give you a shred of appreciation. Because these things are expected. And yet, during your rotation with the other handful of women, the king requests you.

“The inadequate one,” he calls you, a token of your brief interaction last month. 

When you come to him, your robes exquisite but not flawless, he scoffs. You fear it is a test, that if you misperform once more, he’s going to have your body sent back to your family in white wrappings. 

It is late in the evening when you’re next called. One of the other girls passes you by, an odd look in her eye. Not sympathy, nor jealousy… just… confusion. 

You can't help but feel the same. 

“My Grace, how might I serve?” you murmur, slipping into his chambers with tentative caution. 

Once the king retires, as do the handmaidens. That was the way of things, how it’s always been. Why are you here? 

“Come.”

You hold your breath as you approach him, willing your gaze to remain steady, fixated on an artwork beyond him. His robe is the colour of sapphires, an endless blue so like his eyes that it has your senses tingling. 

He says nothing more, but he doesn’t need to. 

Your quivering fingers struggle with his upper binds, straining on your tiptoes due to his imposing height. The world has gone silent, and the only sound that fills the room is the rustling of rich fabric. When you finish, you step away, almost pressed against the wall.

“I do not like you,” he states, so simple and so cold. 

You don’t apologise. You know how much he hates those. 

“Oh,” you whisper, pained—an accident. 

He whips his head, glaring. His ice-filled stare impales you, nailing you to that wall. Your breath becomes choked at the back of your throat. It had not been an invitation to speak, however small. 

This is it. He’s going to execute you. Bowing your head, you concede to him. “I have failed you, my Grace. You have extended enough mercy, and even still, I have failed. This month comes to an end, and I am not perfect.”

The silence that follows is charged, a swirl of dread and disgust. 

“Is this your pitiful attempt to receive a King’s dismissal?” You wince at the venom in his taunt. 

“No, my Grace,” you splutter to your defense, eyes widening with regret. “No, never—”

He raises his hand to cut you off. “You really should be. I have executed people for less.”

He is intent on wounding you, isn’t he? You feel the sting of tears, hating how pathetic it makes you. And yet, the King cocks his head, interested. “Do not hold back. Cry.”

You obey. 

You muster your misery with ease, letting them slip down your cheeks, drip down your chin. He watches you weep before him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. With a beckoning finger, he motions for you to come forward. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is hushed, but as always, so very cold. 

“I…”

He narrows his eyes, cautioning you.

A lump forms in your throat, but slowly, you whisper, “I’m crying for you, my Grace.”

His stare is sharper than any dagger. “For me?” 

You swallow the lump, hating how you’re shivering. “Because of you, my Grace.”

The King smirks. It’s subtle, barely a tug to the lips, but a smirk nonetheless. His gaze drags past you, settling on something on one of his many luxurious dressers and side tables. 

“Bring me my wine.”

With a sniffle, you turn to fetch it, but the goblet has but a mouthful left. You say as much, since there are no bottles for you to inadequately replenish. With an arched brow, he tips his chin, summoning you to come back. You freeze before his imposing frame, the goblet cupped in your hands. 

“Pour me a drink.”

Your brow knits with confusion. “My Grace?”

That sparkling arctic gaze never once leaves yours as he says, “With your tears, handmaiden.”

With a deep breath, you summon your swirling storm of self-pity, willing the tears to continue. They glide down your face, and with a gentle tink… tink… tink… they drip from your chin into the goblet. When your quiet weeping ceases, the King appears satisfied. 

He snatches the cup from your grasp, his bare fingers brushing over yours. 

You cannot suppress the shiver it elicits. 

Not once does his stare waver, demanding your entire attention as he downs the contents in one smooth motion. Your heart stutters, your stomach twisting into knots. It is strangely intimate, and you’re startled at how you wished you had more sorrow to give him. 

The tense quiet stretches on. You don't move; you haven't been dismissed. The King just stands there with his empty goblet, studying you with what you can only assume is contempt. There's a look in his eye, dark and twisted as he glares down at you. Whatever is flashing through his mind is painfully loud, especially as he takes a step back from you, shoulders falling forward. You believe he's about to speak, a muscle in his jaw twitching, lips pursing ever so slightly… but he does not.

“Be gone.” 

You slip through his chamber doors, but do not fully close them, as the sound of his grumbling and cursing has you hesitate. It’s the slightest of cracks, but it offers you enough of an opportunity to see the King tug at his royal robes, the rustling harsh and aggressive. You suck in your gasp as you see his bare torso, rippling with fine muscle and perfect skin. What truly demands your attention is what’s lurking beneath his braies. The King is painfully erect, the complete outline of his cock pushing against the thin material of his undergarments. 

You withdraw immediately, your face blooming the deepest shade of scarlet. You know you should leave, and as you turn to do so, you remember you’ve left the doors ajar. With a wince, you creep back, with curiosity getting the better of you. 

You peep once more, telling yourself that it’s so he doesn’t notice you’re still here when you click the doors shut. 

The King is seated on one of his lounges, pumping his length, head thrown back and that smooth skin of his now sheened with perspiration. Hissing through his teeth, he snaps back, glaring down at the goblet he’s discarded on the floor. 

The one you wept in. 

He’s angry—no, furious. The way he’s masturbating has your nerves ignited. He’s cursing under his breath, the hatred in his eyes as he continues to work himself. You have no choice but to wait until he’s close to finishing, his gleaming stare finally clenching shut. It’s only when he groans, such a deep and throaty noise, thick spurts of cum decorating his stomach, that you close the door, his heavy pants masking the click of the lock.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧.*

Part 2 will be coming soon! And as always, endless thanks to every single one of you who takes the time to read. I appreciate you so much 🥹

“Where are you going all dressed up like that?” You glared at Caleb, frowning as you stare down at how dressed up he looked. He was wearing a nice shirt and clean jeans. Not that he was sloppy but you’ve just watched him nervously fix his hair for five minutes.

He didn’t meet your eyes when he replied, “Nowhere.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, arms crossed, you waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He was lying. “Liar.”

Caleb’s eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand before finally meeting yours. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for our movie marathon.” He fixed you a bright smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

This was the first weekend the two of you had been home together since going to university. You assumed that you’d be spending every second together and Caleb looking like he was about to leave for the day was defintely not in your intensity for the day.

“I wanna go to where you’re going too.”

He cleared he throat uncomfortably. “Not a good idea.”

He was being too suspicious. “Why not?”

Caleb sighed, looking at everything and anything but you as he replied, “I’m going on a … a date.”

There was no way you heard him correctly. Caleb on a …date? No way. He wasn’t interested in girls. He told you he didn’t want a girlfriend—that he was going to focus on school and getting a job and a relationship wasn’t even something he wanted right now.

Maybe he meant it as something else. Dates happened at night and it was barely noon. “It’s lunch time,” you told him.

“And?”

“Dates happen at night.”

His lips quirked into a small, amused smile. “They happen whenever. Anyway, I’ll be back before dinner.”

Your eyes widened. Oh.

So he was actually going on a date. The thought of it did not sit well in your stomach. But was it even a real date if he was planning to be back for dinner? That didn’t seem like enough time for a romantic date. “Right but, is, like, four hours nearly enough for a date?”

Maybe he was just going to see a friend. Like a friend date. A platonic, non-romantic date.

“Yeah. We’ll be quick.”

“Quick. What does that even mean?”

He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears suddenly red. “When you get a boyfriend, you’ll know what I mean.”

His words made you pause. Who said anything about having a boyfriend? Did he mean to imply that he was seeing a girlfriend?

“So is she your girlfriend?” your tone sounded upset but you didn’t mean it to be. You were just surprised, that was all.

Caleb’s gaze landed on you for a moment, watching you as if trying to figure out where this conversation was heading to. You’d also like to know, honestly. The words, at this point, seem to just be stumbling out of your lips.

“No, Pips, she’s not.”

“Good.” Frowning, you shook your head. Not that it was any of your business if he drives to get one or not. Either way, you wanted to meet whoever he was going to see— girlfriends or not. As Caleb’s closest person, it was your responsibility to approve of his partners. “Are you gonna bring her over?”

He looked conflicted for a moment. “I’m not sure. Maybe eventually.”

You didn’t like how his answer made you annoyed. You stepped into his room, closing the door. Caleb’s eyes flickered to the closed door, his escape now gone.

This was now an integration and he wasn’t allowed to escape.

“Is she pretty?”

Hesitation. Caleb fiddled with the ends of his shirt before he let out a deep breath, sitting on his bed. “Yeah. You’ll like her. She’s nice and kind. I’ll introduce you two later.”

“No.” The refusal came out before you could even register his words.

“What?” Caleb looked confused.

You were feeling it, too. You didn’t know where this awful jealousy was coming from and it was making you unreasonable.

“I don’t like this,” you said softly, a pout on your lips. You haven’t hang out with your gege all semester and when you finally thought you had him for yourself, he was going to ditch you for another girl.

It was so very rude of him.

“I promise I’ll spend all of tomorrow with you.”

That should fix it but you were still feeling deep, green, jealousy. He was supposed to be yours all weekend. So you told him the truth: “I don’t like sharing you with another girl.”

“You’re not sharing me, Pips,” he assured you, “I’m just hanging out with a friend who happens to be a girl. No biggie.”

“No, that’s not the same thing.”

“Yeah? How so?”

You crossed your arms. Caleb was such a big dummy sometimes. Why couldn’t he understand that you didn’t want him to hang out with a pretty and kind girl? What if she decided that she wanted to be with him all the time? She’d taking him away from you.

“You’re my gege, you know, not hers.”

Caleb pulled you into his space, his arms bracing around your body as he hugged you. “I’m not planning to be her gege,” he said with a smile, head burrying into your chest, “I’ll always be your gege, okay, Pips? I’ll be her …something else.”

You pushed away from him. “No.”

Caleb looked up at you, amused. “No?”

“Your mine.”

“Listen, Pips, when people start dating, they start feeling things together that only couples get to feel. I’ll always be your gege. But you’ll find someone else you’ll like so much more later.”

Dating.

So it was a date.

He was going to see his girlfriend.

He liked hanging out this new girl more than he liked hanging out with you. It wasn’t right. Caleb was yours.

He was your gege first and he’d always be yours and only yours.

You didn’t want a boyfriend and you certainly weren’t planning to replace him with another man like how he clearly was replacing you.

You shook your head at him. “But I only like you. Why don’t we go on a date instead? It doesn’t have to be with her?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, his ears turning a deeper shade of red, the colour creeping down to his cheeks.

“I don’t think you understand—”

“I understand perfectly.”

He cleared his throat, eyes wide as he looked at you as your words caught up to him. He frowned a moment later, a deep gruntled sigh escaped his lips before he shook his head, looking as if he’d rather be doing anything else than have this conversation with you.

“Listen, Pips, I’ll just be a few hours. I’ll be back quickly and we can hang out, okay?” He was trying to change the subject.

You weren’t going to let him. “Is it because you want to kiss her?”

“Well—”

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no.

This girl has seduced Caleb with kissing. Boys were so quick to fall for a pretty girl with pretty lips. You thought Caleb would be different but alas, your gege was merely a man and was quick to succumb to the promise of a kiss.

You’d fight fire with fire. You sat beside him, your thighs pressed against his because you meant serious business. “If I kiss you instead, will you not go on a date with her?”

“Pipsqueak, it’s more than just kissing—”

You nodded, cutting him off before he could finish his excuse, “Okay, fine. I can do more than kissing too.”

Caleb closed his eyes, throwing his head back as his groaned. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Those are things you do with your boyfriend, not your gege.”

Those were things you thought you’d do with someone you love and care for. And Caleb defiantly fell in those two categories. You loved him and cared for him with your whole heart.

“Why not? Don’t you like me?”

He sighed. “Of course I do. But this is different.”

Why didn’t he want to be with another girl so badly? What was it that she had that you didn’t? “Is it because I’m not pretty like her?”

Caleb stiffened for a moment before he turned to face you, eyes serious when he stated, “Pips, you’re very fucking pretty.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting as you grumbled, “Then why don’t you want to kiss me instead.”

“We can’t.”

“So you do want to?”

Caleb groaned. “Grandma adopted both of us, yeah? That means I’m your big brother.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of you.

Your eyes narrowed at his lame excuse. “But you’re really actually not.” You sighed dramatically, feighing disaapintment in him and Caleb looked like all he wanted to do was apologize and make it up to you. “I guess you just like her more than me.”

“No, that’s not true at all.”

He took the bait? You were surprised but it didn’t matter. All you had to do was reel him in now “Then why won’t you kiss me?”

Caleb was conflicted, he held himself back as if stopping himself from actually just kissing you. “If I kiss you—if you let me kiss you, I won’t let you go. Ever. You’ll be mine and I can’t do that to you.”

Your eyes widened, heart racing with excitement. Yes.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

That was exactly what you wanted. “Gege, I want to be yours.”

Caleb swore under his breath, “Fuck.”

This was it— you caught him, you had Caleb wrapped around your little fingers. He wasn’t going to leave you for some other pretty girl. You blinked up at him, fluttering your lashes as you asked sweetly, “Please, gege, you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Caleb’s resolve crumbled. You saw it the moment his shoulder dropped. His hand reached for you, landing on your shoulder before he traced it to your neck, culling your chin as he pulled your gaze to him. “Yeah, I’m yours.”

You smile was shy. “I’m yours, too, gege.”

“Fuck, you’re wrecking my self control,” he whispered but he didn’t let go nor did he push you away.

Your own hands reached up to lay on his chest, fingers spreading to feel the expanse of his muscled planes. He was warm and so solid beneath your touch— so much better from what you’ve imagined in the privacy of your room.

“We can kiss all day if you don’t go on that date.”

Caleb moaned, breathing you in. “I’d want to do more than kiss you.”

You licked your lips in anticipation of what he’d do to you. “I’ll let you.”

“Will you?” He nuzzled your neck, lips tracing the contour of your jaw.

A small nod was all you could muster. “Mhm.”

You felt him smirk agaisnt your skin as he lightly nipped your neck. “You just want me all for yourself, huh?”

You lolled your head to the side in response, giving him more space to explore your exposed skin. “I do, I do.”

Caleb licked a line down to your shoulder before biting. You groaned in pain but didn’t push him away. He smiled when he pulled away, kissing the first mark he’d leave on your body.

“You’d do anything for gege to stay with you?”

“Yeah, anything.” You sounded breathless already. You didn’t even do anything yet and you were already a mess.

“Alright.” Caleb shifted beside you, reaching over for his phone. You heard the sound of him typing and a message going through before he tossed his phone aside haphazardly. “Come here, baby.”

Caleb pulled you over and you let him manouver you until you sat on his lap facing him. You sat with your legs around him, bracing yourself on his shoulder for balance as he placed a strong hand on the small of your back.

There was a glint in his eyes when you looked up at him that made your heart flutter. “Why don’t you show me first, how much you want me to stay.” His other hand reached up to pick on the hem of your shirt. “Go on. Take it off.”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or not, the silence lingering only for a moment before you realized that this was what Caleb was planing to do with the girl he was going to see. The very thought of this faceless woman perched on his lap and taking of her shirt for him had your blood boiling.

You didn’t hesistate to pull your shirt over your head. It should be you taking your shirt off for Caleb, not some other girl.

You heard Caleb’s breath hitch. His eyes glued on your chest as you settled into a conformal position on his lap. The hand on your back began to stroke patterns on your skin and you squinted at how it made every inch of your skin tingle.

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” Caleb encouraged, eyes flicking up to yours for a moment in challenge before they settled back on your chest. Caleb greedily took in the sight of you as if he was burning the vision to his memory. Slowly, you unhook your bra, holding it with one hand at the front to prevent it from dropping immediately.

The reality of what you were doing was sinking in and you found yourself feeling shy from exposing your body like this. Apart from your own eyes, you’ve never had anyone else see your body and the thought of Caleb being the first to see you naked had your skin burning with arousal.

“Show gege more, come on,” he whispered, fingers playing with the strap of your bra, “Let me see how pretty my girl is.”

You were feeling so shy but you wanted to show Caleb your body. You’ve been training hard to be a hunter and you should be proud of all the work you’ve done. Plus, Caleb would never make you feel bad about how you look.

Slowly, you lowered your arms, baring your chest to Caleb.

“That’s it, Pipsqueak,” Caleb whispered, memorizing every inch of your skin you showed him, “You’re being such a good girl.”

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes in fear that he wouldn’t like what he saw.

Caleb, however, moaned as he took in the sight of you.

“Fuck. Juicy fucking tits.” His hand reached for you, the ghost of his touch as he hovered over your chest made you shiver. He was barely touching you and it was making you incredibly wet. “This is all for me?”

You nodded, straightening your back as you pushed your skin into his hand. “Yeah.”

Caleb chuckled. The moment you leaned your breast into his waiting hand, he squeezed as if intensively studying they feel of you in his fingers.

“You feel so fucking good, Pips,” he muttered softly, “So soft—so pretty.”

You groaned, his words and touch causing your hips to grinding into his thighs. God, you were incredibly wet.

“If these are mine,” he said, pinching your nipple between his fingers as he squeezed your boob. The pain was electrifying and you wanted more. Caleb was smiling as he watched you trying to keep quiet on his lap. “I should mark them as mine, no?”

Your eyes widened but you didn’t protest. Caleb smirked, leaning down and biting into your skin. You yelped from the bite, hips jerking when he sucked. Your hands queezed his shoulder, fingers digging into him while you allowed yourself to feel all sort of pleasure from Caleb’s ministrations.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Caleb nipped at your breast hard and you winced from the sudden pain. Indents the shape of his teeth marked your breast.

“Gege, ouch.”

He kissed your neck, the hand on your back now griped you by the waist, fusing your hips as you grinded down on him. “Shhhh. I’m just taking what’s mine. You don’t want your gege biting someone else’s tits, no?”

Your eyes widened. “No.”

“Then be good and tell gege how much you like this.” Another hard bite, this time on your neck, just below your jaw. Caleb licked the spot and kissed it softly as if silently apologizing for hurting you.

You whimpered at the contrast of it all, head a little dizzy from the pain and pleasure. “I like it a lot.”

“Yeah? You like me leaving my marks on you?” His fingers dug into your skin just as your clit grinded down on his jeans just so and—oh, god, the line between the pain and the pleasure was quickly starting to blur.

You nodded. “I do, I do.”

“Good girl.” Caleb was soon biting and squeezing and pinching all over and all you could do was take and take and take everything he was giving you.

It felt so freaking good.

Caleb’s touch was greedy but it was also possessive, like you were all his and he couldn’t get enough. His hands were so rough and so demanding but his kisses were so tender and sweet. His words were filthy but he’d call you his pretty girl and you couldn’t help but to melt into him because god, yes, yes yes— you were his pretty girl.

“Kiss me,” you demanded from him. He’d touched you all over but he hadn’t kissed you yet.

He obliged, taking you by the chin and tilting your head up in a slight angle before he leaned down. Your eyes fluttered to a close and you felt him lick your lips before he pressed his lips against yours.

Finally. Your first kiss. And it was with Caleb.

Your mouth parted slightly as you gasped for air, not realizing you’ve been holding your breath. Caleb snaked his tongue to taste you, tracing your own tongue before exploring every inch of your mouth.

He pulled away after a moment and you were panting, trying to bring in as much as into your lungs.

He was smirking at you when he said teasingly, “You’re not very good at this.”

You could only glare at him. “I never kissed anyone before.”

Caleb’s smile widened. He pulled your body closer to his, your skin now pressed against his shirt.

It want fair that he was still fully clothed when you were half naked on his lap. You were about to tell him to get undressed too but soon, he had your hips grinding into the bulge in his jeans and all thoughts were suddenly gone.

“Don’t worry, gege will show you how to kiss,” he said, voice gentle but you heard the ccndesending tone layered underneath. “Tongue out.”

You followed his instructions, sticking your tongue out.

Caleb moaned, taking a moment to look at you before he leans down once again to taste your tongue and make out with you.

He was gentle at first, letting you get used to the way he liked to kiss, the way he liked to taste you, and the way he liked exploring you. Then, when you began to move your own tongue againt his, Caleb moaned, muttering into your mouth, “Fuck, yeah.” His hand was now on your breast again, squeezing it between his fingers roughly. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he whispered in to your mouth, pinching your nipple hard. You helped and he took the opportunity to kiss you deeply as if he was devouring you.

“Ah, gege—”

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby.”

There was a build up in the pit of your stomach and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was slowly encroaching. “Wait, gege—”

“Should gege stop and leave?”

You shook your head, moaning. You didn’t want him to stop at all. “No, no, no, please stay.”

“What a good girl.” His hips started to jerk in rhythm with your own. He was so hard beneath you. Your fingers greedily reached down, to get a better feel of him.

You both groaned when your hand found the length of him, squeezing the hard length you were grinding on.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty.” Caleb broke the kiss, pulling away from you just as he pushed you off his lap. You stumbled a little, confused as you panted. “Get on your knees.”

“What—”

You felt the familiar pull of his evol on your thighs and suddenly, you found yourself kneeling infront of Caleb, his legs spread wide with you in between.

“You asked why I was only gonna be gone for a few hours?” he wondered, eyes heavy lidded as he watched you from above, a lazy smile tugging up his lips. He unbuckled his belt, your eyes fixed on his fingers as he began to undress. “This is why.” The sound of the zipper was so loud, your face flushed from the anticipation of what was under it. “Open your mouth.”

You blinked up at him, hesitating.

You’ve never done this before.

What if you weren’t any good at it? What if he hated it? Or what if you bit him and hurt him?

“I can still un-cancel that date.”

Parting your lips, you stick your tongue out for him.

Caleb moaned. “So fucking adorable.”

Slowly, Caleb pushed his boxers down just enough to pull his cock out. Your eyes widened at the size of it—it was larger than what you’ve pictured it in your mind. Your imagination had always conjured Caleb with a decently sized dick but what he presented in front of you was not something you’ve ever thought would ever fit inside you.

“Give it a kiss. Like how I showed you.”

You took a breath. One step at a time. Maybe you wouldn’t fit it in you today but you could kiss it. Reaching forward, you kissed the nub, tasting a bit of saltiness from the wet tip. When you pulled away, a string of liquid followed, connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock.

“Fuck,” Caleb groaned, “Keep going.” You did it again, this time, kissing it like how he kissed you— with tongue, tasting and exploring every inch of the tip of his length.

“So fucking pretty on your knees for me.” You felt his fingers tangled in your hair. There was a bit of pressure on where he held you and you took it as a sign to take more of him in your mouth.

Lips wide open, you sank your mouth down the light of his cock, stopping after a few inches before pulling back. The feel of his hard member inside your mouth was so hot but you weren’t sure if you’d be able to fit it all in your mouth.

You loooked up at him and he smiled at you. “Go on, Pips,” he whispered, “You wanna suck your gege’s cock, don’t you?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks at his words but you nodded. You desperately want to make him feel good with your mouth.

Before you could take him in once more, his grip on your hair tightened, stopping you from moving. “Use your words.”

You but your lips, heart beating hard agaisnt your chest at the embarrassment of vocalizing to Caleb that you wanted to suck him off.

He quirked a brow, waiting for your words. He wasn’t going to let this continue until you tell him what he wanted to hear.

Softly, you said to him, “I wanna suck your cock, gege, please.”

Caleb moaned. “So fucking polite.” He tuggged on your hair once more. “Tongue out.”

You stuck your tongue out again, unsure what he was going to do.

Caleb took his cock by the base, giving it a slow stroke before letting the hard length rest on your tongue. You waited for him to tell you what to but seconds ticked by and you could feel warmth pool to the tip of your tongue. You’re flushed, eyes wide at how you were practically drooling all over his dick.

Caleb chuckled as he watched you struggle to stay still. “What a filthy little mouth drooling for a cock.”

You whined at him because god, you were so freaking wet and this shouldn’t be so hot.

“Open wider, baby.”

Your mouth parted open a little more. The only warning he gave you was a little tap on your cheek before Caleb slowly slide his length in mouth.

The tip of cock reached teh back of your throat and you chocked a little before Caleb pulled out slowly. “What a good fucking girl.” He allowed you to take a breath before he slid back in. This time, he he reached the back of your throat, he pushed even deeper.

“Relax, Pips,” he whispered, a hand resting on your jaw as he rubbed his thumb agaisnt your cheek tenderly. You unclenched your muscles, trusting Caleb to take care of you. “That’s it, let gege in.”

You whined when he pushed a bit more, most of his member disappearing past your lips. Caleb groaned, pulling back slowly, dragging his length out before pushing back in. “Breath through your nose, Pips—ofh fuck—what a pretty little mouth. So good at taking my cock.”

Your eyes began to water at the unfamiliar feel of something so large going down your throat but Caleb’s moans and the way he was looking at you was enough to keep you from holding back the urge to choke on his thrusts. He looked so hot like this and you could never get tired of watching him as he fuck into your mouth.

“Fuck yeah.” Caleb watched you with reverie, his eyes were half closed but he never took them off of yours. “You’re making gege feel so damn good, baby.” Another hard thrust and you moaned, causing him to stutter for a moment. “Such—” he thrusted “—a good—” another hard thurst “—fucking —” his grip on your hair tightened “—girl.”

Caleb pulled out and you watch the way his cock was covered of your saliva—coated of you. “Shhh. You can take more, yeah?”

There were tears in your eye but you nodded anyway. You liked making him feel good with your mouth. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted to get better for him—wanted it so that you wouldn’t have to choke everytime he fed you his cock.

“Yeah, you can. You want to make gege feel good, don’t you? You want all his cock down your pretty throat?”

You swallowed, nodding, wondering how he could know you so well.

Caleb leaned down to kiss your forehead before he sat back up, thumb hooking on your mouth, pulling it wide open before he thrusted in once more.

“Fuck, your mouth takes me so fucking well.” Caleb’s pace was faster this time but he didn’t go as deep as before. You moaned at the feel of him fucking your mouth. Your core throbbed at all the grunts and noises Caleb was making. “My pretty girl is so good at taking her gege’s cock in her mouth, yeah?” You moaned in agreement and Caleb whimpered, chuckling a little as he caught his breath. “I should give you a reward, shouldn’t I?”

Gods, yes.

Anything he was willing to give you, you’d take it with open arms.

“You deserve it, Pips. Letting your gege fuck your throat like this—oh, fuck, yes—just like that.” Caleb’s rythm began to stutter as he chased his orgasm, his mains filled the room and it was making you so unbelievably wet and aroused. “This hot mouth is made for me to fuck, yeah? Yeah.”

You groaned, a stray cough escaped your lips when he pushed a little too deep, your throat closing in and chocked on his length.

“God, you’re sound so fucking hot chocking on this cock—fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s it, keep taking it. I’m so—shit, I’m so close. Gege’s got something for you, baby. Are you ready?”

You nodded eagerly, words muffled by his cock. At this point, you’d do anyyyhing and everything he’d asked of you.

“Fuck, really wanna come all over this cute face.” He groaned. “But I promised you a reward, didn’t I? My girl deserves to swallow her gege’s come for being such a good cocksucker—fuuuck.”

Caleb’s body shook as he came, thrusting into your mouth one last time, his voice dropping an octave as he groaned.

“Mm yeah. Make sure to swallow it all. This is all for you.” Hot liquid shot down your throat and you moaned at the taste of him as he filled your mouth. Caleb jerked his hips, grip on your hair tight as he came and came and came. “Fuck, take it baby, fuck. Take it. Don’t spill any of it.”

He pulled out and grabbed your chin, angling it up. “Open your mouth.”

You opend your mouth full of his cum.

His smile was wide as he watched you struggle to keep yourself from spilling. “So fucking cute.”

You whinned, feeling the hot liquid beginning to trail down your chin.

Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You must have looked like such a mess, teary eyes and all. “Shhhh.”

You whined some more, feeling self conscious under his heated gaze.

Smiling, pleased, Caleb let go of your hair, letting his finger comb through the strands gently. “Swallow it all.”

You closed your mouth and swallow. .

Once he has stopped the car, he leans over and holds his right cheek out to you. “Starting now.”

You let out a gasp and jokingly slap his cheek away, which Caleb just loves. He places a hand on his cheek as if it hurt and says teasingly, “Oww~~ I’ve been so helpful. Do I really deserve this?”

You lean over and are about to kiss his cheek as an apology when he suddenly turns his head, so you kiss his lips instead. “That’s 1 out of 1,500~,” he grins.

“Caleb, quit playing~~” You hit him again, this time against his chest with a bit more force, though you start blushing.

“Actually, Pips, I got a surprise for you,” he says, suddenly all serious. “…Open the compartment drawer in front of you.” “Caleb, if this is a cheap joke, I swear to g—” “No joke.”

You open the compartment drawer and find nothing at first, but then…

“Huh? Are these… car keys?” “I thought you deserve your own car now, since you just passed your final driving test. It’s the car you’ve always talked about.” Your eyes sparkle. You can’t quite grasp that he actually gifted you a car. “Caleb, that’s so… sweet. You’re the best!! If I get my pilots license next, will you gift me a plane?”

“I will gift you the universe, if that is what you want.” His eyes sparkle with pure love as he watches you being so happy. “However, with your eyesight, you can forget flying a plane, you little goober,” he quickly adds jokingly. “Hm, sad, but true. Doesn’t matter, who needs a plane when I’ve got a cockpit right here?” you hint with your eyebrows to his crotch. “Oh??” Caleb’s face blushes, yet he responds with equal eagerness to your boldness, moving his face closer to yours again.

“There’s a way to thank me by the way…,” he taps his fingers against his right cheek. “We stopped at 1.”

You laugh and give in, giving him many little kisses on his face. “Don’t stop, Pips. You’re barely at 12 kisses now,” he jokes. “This will take forever,” you huff, but keep going. “I don’t mind that, buuut~~” Caleb says as he presses the button to lower your seat, so you get more horizontal, “… you could also pay it in one lump sum!”

“Are you saying I should sell my body for driving lessons and a car?” you joke as your seat adjusts itself. “Of course not~ I’m saayiiing, lucky for you, I’m forgiving your debt. I’m just collecting the interest now.” His hand rests on your thigh and moves closer between your legs. “And you just happen to be the one, I have most interest in.”

You cracked an egg into the mixing bowl, the bright orange sunset yolk breaking and swirling into the beige batter of sugar and butter. Your hands moved mechanically as you swirled around the wooden spoon you adored making, but your heart wasn’t in it this time. If anything, it added more stress than the usual therapeutic feeling that was usually provided. 

The kitchen smelt sweet, with the opened powdered sugar adding a gourmand scent to the atmosphere. Only this time, it wasn’t as delicious as usual; it was more suffocating as you glanced at your recipe card and made the same cake for the same ungrateful man every single year. 

It was your husband's birthday coming around the corner, and you were making his favourite cake that he would always ask for with bright puppy dog eyes that had a twinge of selfishness in the gleam. However, as the years passed, your love for making his favourites soon faded like snow on a hot day. As you watched the intricate swirling pattern of ingredients mix into the bowl, you wondered if she does things like this for him, if he makes her do different or even in the same favourites. She was the largest reason you lost love for your husband, the secretary he became obsessed with and naively thought he was doing a good job at hiding, even when he never deleted those texts and made that awful day of seeing his exchange of nudes with her happen. You remembered how your heart lurched and your stomach twisted when you saw her. The typical stereotype: pretty, bombshell even, and younger. You were aware cheating happens, but you thought—like every naive woman before you—that your husband would never tread those paths of infidelity. 

You remembered when you confided with your best friend, to which she rightfully asked why you wouldn’t leave. You felt stupid but also smart to stay with him; life was comfortable with him, and there wasn’t much option to have a life after him; you married him right out of high school, bright-eyed and clueless and thinking that love would be enough, but now you know better—even if it’s too late to accumulate that knowledge. 

Life with him was comfortable, and while he was neglectful emotionally, materially, there was nothing to complain about; however, a proper marriage can’t continue just with gifts, and it wasn’t like a proper marriage was going to continue when your heart irredeemably broke when you found those text messages and lipstick stains on his collar, with cheap perfume lingering on the cotton. He managed to get you everything you wanted—except real love—from handbags, perfumes, and any trinket of a hyper fixation. Without him, you’d have nothing: no house, no security; you were just a high school graduate with no real experience and no one else to support you, so you played the role of the good wife, perfect hostess, like it was a survival tool. 

You heard the kitchen door open as you reached for the vanilla extract. You froze for a moment as you wiped your hands on a teatowel and realised it was not your husband; it was too early for him; he’s usually out for hours after work with the secretary; no, who came to visit was a man that always made you smile, Leon Kennedy—your father in law. 

“Smells good in here,” he says with a smooth voice, like velvet with a smoked sharp edge of whiskey aftertaste in it. You watched as his eyes flicked over your form, almost lingering a bit too long, but you didn’t mind; in fact, whenever he looked at you, something always stirred inside of you. 

Leon would often visit; it started with him checking up on his son, but now it was more often to check on you, to which you didn’t mind. You loved your father-in-law. He always made you feel welcome and accepted. When he found out about the secretary's story, he managed to make sure to check up on you often, and you could tell there was something else lingering in these checkups whenever his wandering eyes would stray just a little longer when taking in the vision, that was you, into his peripheral. You weren’t going to act as you disliked it; it wasn’t exactly like Leon was unattractive; it was quite the opposite, actually, especially when you looked at those toned arms, sharp jawline and the way his straight hair framed the harsh chiselled features you couldn’t help but find the beauty in. 

There was also something else between you two. Ever since the secretary's story was known, tension soon built between you two; you always found him attractive. It would be stupid not to see his beauty objectively, but mutual attraction soon makes the tension seem unyielding. The nights he would visit—when you were all alone—there would often be touch with little to no distance between you two. There were especially nights were touching soon swirled into lingering kisses that turned into pants and moans exchanged in each other’s mouths, and soon after these exchanges, you were as innocent as your cheating husband was, only it felt like you were doing so much worse; he was with a pretty secretary, and you were fucking his dad, but you had little sympathy for the man that started the petty streak within you.

“It’s just cake frosting and batter,” you replied while turning back to the bowl and trying to ignore the warmth that crept up on your neck from where he walked up behind and let you feel his hot breath dance along the back of your neck; his presence suffocating, but equally electrifying and arousing. 

“Just cake?” he teases in a lower octave. “Did you bake it with love?” he continues, a breath of amusement lingering at the end of his words.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, your pulse quickening when you felt his muscular arms start to snake around your waist, making your back hit his chest, and you felt how his heartbeat thumped in its chamber for you.

“No, can’t say I’m baking this one with love,” you muttered. 

“Well, he doesn’t deserve it anyway,” his hands smooth over your hips, giving them a slight squeeze that makes your breath hitch as he holds you in place while your heart jitters in rhythm. 

“You shouldn’t be touching me like this, you know,” you tease with a flirty smile.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he matched your teasing as he coaxed out suggestive giggles as his lips grazed on the curve of your neck, leaving a soft and wet trail of kisses that made you feel weak; something your husband never could make you feel once the connection and love was lost. “Come on, he doesn’t come home for another three hours… and he doesn’t deserve all this hard work.” 

“Yeah, and who does?” 

“Me, obviously. Haven’t I taken care of you, or does my girl need some more attention,” he made your heart and body jump when he squeezed the fat of your ass, griping it and slowly massaging it, using your soft and sensual moans as an invitation to keep going and more. 

With his free hand, he dipped his finger in the pink shimmery frosting and let a wet licking out as he tasted your hard work: “Oh, he definitely doesn’t deserve this; way too good for him… Here, try some.” He says in a suggestive tone as the leftover frosting drips down the length of his finger, making his pupils dilate and swallow the blue of his gaze as he watches you take his finger in and suck on the length of it slowly; just the sight of you looking up and making eye contact with him was enough to make his cock hard, making it press against the rough fabric of his jeans to make a tented peak that was begging to be released and nestle itself inside of you

You giggled slightly: “Hm yeah… way too good for him.”

Leon smirked at your reply as his hands went back to squeezing your waist: “Yeah… like you… you’re way too good for him, but I’m good enough for you,” he punctuated his words, which had a deep grovelled tone, with a few neck kisses; he left a soft wet trail with his lips grazing down the slop and curve of your neck, making pretty little whimpers escape your mouth. “Oh, you make the prettiest sounds,” he mumbled before his neck kisses started to deepen with the tips of his teeth starting to indent on your soft and fragile skin; you didn’t care about being subtle anymore; your husband would come back with the lipstick marks and reak of perfume, so why should you keep the courtesy of secrecy when he never even thought of giving you the manner?

“Mm,” you let out a mumble of arousal as you felt his hands start to snake and slither down between your thighs, hearing his amusement and ego start to heighten when he felt how wet you were already for him, how warm and ready you were between those doughy and plushy thighs that he adored to grab, squeeze, and kiss. 

You let out a sharp gasp, inhaling the cool air that surrounded the kitchen into your expanding lungs as you felt him lift your dress up and plunge his large hand into your lacy barrier, forming circle motions around your sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling how hard he was against your ass as he kept teasing that developed wet spot that darkened your underwear. 

“Such a pretty girl, the most beautiful girl,” he kept whispering his praises as he rubbed your clit, making your chest rise and fall at a quick pace as you wrapped your hand around and interlocked your fingers with his long strands of dusty blonde hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, who needs him when I’m around… Isn’t that right, darling?” 

“Y-yeah, who needs him? Aah,” your words were interrupted with an interlude of sensual moans that erupted from the base of your throat and past your glossy lips as his fingers moved quicker and rougher. 

He left a trail of kisses as he pulled the thin straps of your dress down, letting it collect in a wrinkled pool by your feet as he used his free hand to grab at the swell of your breast. 

“Oh, no bra, aren’t I a lucky man?” he pinched slightly as your pebbled nipple. 

You gasped in a moan as you two looked at one another, both of you smirking at one another as he worked on your sensitive buds and admired all those gorgeous and sexy moans you were making for him until he pushed you and bent you over the counter. 

In the blur of motions, you gasped as the cold surface pressed against your already-hardened nipples, but now mixed with a room-temperature sensation; when Leon bent you down, you accidentally smacked your hand at the edge of the bowl, the pink frosting oozing everywhere on the counter and now pooling over to your tits, making a sticky brim collect on your plush skin. At the same time, Leon had pulled his jeans and boxers down—along with your underwear—as he pushed his sensitive, reddened tip along your wet folds, making you sing like an angel with every moan that protruded and danced along your lips. 

“Ah, Leon, s-stop teasing me,” you whimper out. 

“Mm, okay, guess my good girl deserves it now, doesn’t she,” he teased in that tantalising tone. Still, he turned you around, making you yelp as he lifted you up quickly and put you on the counter, watching his brows rise in intrigue with the image of the pink frosting oozing down the mounds on your chest. 

He grinds the tip of his dick along your puffy folds before slipping his hard and wet length inside of you, filling you up and making you gasp. 

“Oh, fuck, Leon.” 

“That’s it; use that pretty mouth for good, hunny.”

The room started to fill up with orgasmic exchanges as he pushed further inside your gummy walls, biting his lip as he felt your cunt suck him in further for his tip to bash against that spongy sweet spot he had found so easily, like his body was made to be connected to yours in an intimate exchange; far more compatible than you and your husband, or him and his ex-wife. 

Leon couldn’t hold it in anymore when he watched the pink frosting start to set on your soft skin, letting his face bend forward and lick the sweet mess off your tits.

“Fuck, you taste even more sweet now,” he whispered before his tongue proceeded to lap up every sweet bit of mess that had accumulated down to your sensitive buds, making you whimper and writhe underneath his touch as the stiff tip of his tongue circulated on your nipples and leaving the occasional nibble to make your heart jitter and your walls tighten and spasm around his thick length. 

“Oh, my god,” you moaned out. 

You felt like your body was on fire, with arousal pooling in your stomach, the sensation almost being too much for you to handle as your eyes rolled up until only the whites were visible and accompanied by your dazed and dream-like expression as you bit your lip in ecstasy. 

The push and pull of his cock was quick but steady, his tongue lapping around your sensitive buds, making you get so much closer to your high—which was never hard to find with Leon’s skill. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you moan out in an orgasmic and pornographic tone. 

“That’s it, baby, cum on my cock like the good girl you are,” he punctuated his words with a harsh bite from the tips of his teeth around your nipple, making a catalyst for the clear gush that trickled and spurted down his length and onto the kitchen counter. “Oh, you’re so sexy, you messy girl,” he whispered as his gaze went down to watch his dick push in and out of that pretty little pussy of yours.

You heard him curse under his breath before groaning, followed by heat that pooled inside of you as he cummed and unloaded his white release inside your tight cunt; he had completely ravaged your body with bruises on your hips where he had held you, bite marks on his chest, now his cloudy release spurting out of your spent hole.

🏷️ taglist: @elfven-blog @porcelainseashore @angelstargel @localkiss -> check my pinned post if you wanted to be added to the taglist; if you want to be deleted from it just message me privately.

You crawl onto his lap, wearing a skimpy set in contrast to his full work attire. He doesn't move at first, just watches you with that lazy, knowing grin that makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah?” he says, toying with the hem of your panties. “You sure you don’t want daddy to take over, fuck your little princess parts until you’re stuffed with cum?” His hands trace up your sides, slow and deliberate, before settling on your chest, rubbing light circles into your chest.

You shake your head vehemently. “No, daddy,” you respond, with as much composure as you can foster in your current position. “ ‘M not a princess. I can handle myself, don’t need you to lead.”

For a moment, you think you see a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it comes. "That so?" he says, tone mocking. Before he can continue, you grind down on his cock, so hard that you can feel the stiff fabric of his slacks drag against your clit. And he groans, tongue wetting his lower lip as his eyes rake your body, chest heaving already as he looks at you in awe. You decide to roll your hips again, overwhelmed by the sensation of him — gorgeous, masculine, cologne earthy, and a faint sheen of sweat covering his skin. Leon, Leon, Leon, was all you could think as you dragged your pussy along his bulge. Oh, Leon.

He groans, low and broken and needy, grabs at the flesh on your hips as you rut against him. “That’s if. That’s my good girl. My good — fucking — girl. Isn’t that right?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you grit your teeth, trying your damn hardest to not give into the submissive headspace that threatened to take over you. No, today, you were going to put him in his place. Today, you weren’t daddy’s girl.

“Nope,” you retort in a clipped voice. “I’m gonna fuck you tonight, daddy. And you're gonna beg me to let you cum.” You meet his heated gaze with a roll of your hips so slow and strong that he gasps, sharp and choked, and heat pools down in your stomach. “Yeah, you like that?” you say, fighting back the neediness that claws up your stomach and continuing to grind on him, the friction almost painful. His hair has fallen in his eyes, his head lolled back against this couch as he damn near whimpers at the feeling of your hot, went cunt dragging against his bulge. You involuntarily freeze at the sound. God, he was so gorgeous just like this. And he was all yours. 

Something about that makes your head spin. Maybe it’s the rush of possession, maybe it’s just how good he feels against you, how strong his arms are as they wrap around your waist, maybe it’s the rough callouses on his hands tracing tantalizing shapes up your back,  squeezing lightly on the back of your neck—the way they would when he wanted you to arch your back so he could feel your tits rubbing against his chest as he fucked you. God, he was practically devouring you.

You squeal as he adjusts his legs, sitting wider so you can grind on him with more vigor. He grins lazily at your near pathetic display of need. 

“Can’t take a little grinding? You haven’t even fucked me yet,” he taunts, lower lip curled between his teeth. He bucks his hips up for further emphatics, drawing a full whine out of you. 

At this point, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, clawing at any and every inch of exposed skin you can on his body. You fumble with the front buttons of his suit and give up on the collared shirt, shoving your hands inside the small gap to claw  from his stomach to his chest. “Baby…”

“Baby,” he mocks in the same needy tone. “What’s wrong?

Cmon, use your big girl words. Think, baby. Or has my cock already made you stupid?”

You huff,  freeing his dick from his pants in one unceremonious motion and sinking down on it. If there was one thing for sure, it was that Leon’s dick was the best thing you had ever felt. You just felt so full, his balls nudging against your clit, his tip pressing into that one spot that made your knees weak and your head spin with need. But you couldn’t give into that. No, you needed to prove him wrong.

“Sit back,” you demand. Leon chuckles.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Slowly, you begin to hump up and down on his length, relishing in the stretch that he provided to your poor, achy hole. You reached between your legs before you sunk down again, collecting the mix of your arousals onto your fingers. The second your hand met your clit, he knew he was done for.

“Ah—shit! Ah, baby, so tight,” he moaned. “So fucking tight, baby. I could fuck you forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His words shoot molten gold down to your clit, now throbbing against your hands as you ride him. Fuck, he feels unreal, his tip nudging that spot that makes you claw at his shoulders in a decidedly non-dominant way. You can feel him twitch inside you whenever you sink down, down, and you relish in his shaky exhales–fuck, just like that, he says under his breath. “Fuck, baby.” You drag your thighs up, so slow that it makes your muscles ache but quickly overridden by the feeling of every inch of him sliding past your walls. You almost feel the swell of his cock leave you before he slams you back down, hips snapping up to meet yours in long, hard thrusts. 

“Nope. No fucking way,” he grits out, brows furrowed with exertion. You know you should just accept defeat. The stretch sends overwhelming sparks up your tummy with each thrust. He fucks you like he’ll die if you don’t cream on his cock, tangles his fingers through your hair in messy handfuls as he bounces you up and down. You should accept defeat, but you don’t. 

“Daddy,” you whine in your littlest, most submissive voice ever. He slows down a little to brush your hair back.

“Yes, baby?” 

You have to bite back a smile.

“What’s wrong? You can’t handle a little teasing?”

The friction is maddening, each thrust sending a jolt of heat up your spine. Leon’s head falls back against the couch, his lips parting in a low groan that makes your thighs tremble. God, he looks wrecked—hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hooded, chest heaving with short spasms of breath.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hands tightening on your hips. “Keep going, baby. Just like that.”

You smirk, rolling your hips slower this time, savoring the way his jaw clenches and his fingers dig into your flesh. “Like this?” you purr, leaning in close so your breath brushes his ear. He hisses in frustration, attempting to thrust into you, but you respond by lifting your hips so far off him that his tip is almost at your entrance.

His eyes snap to yours. It’s downright sinister how good he looks when he sees red. Hands fisting the couch below him so tightly that his knuckles turn white, betraying the calm demeanor he tries to maintain. Veins protruding up his arm, cock pulsing angrily within you. As if it was possible to feel any fuller. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

You smile. Good. Let him break. Let him beg, for once.

Leon entertains you. You look plain adorable, blinking at him with big, droopy eyes and pawing at his thighs for support as you bounce. Up, down, up. He senses your movements slowing, and it brings him some sort of sexual schadenfreude to see you wrest what little bit of control you have left within you to fuck him. God, he could just fuck you forever. He glides a hand up your navel, seemingly without a care in the world, pecks your chest with kisses before lightly squeezing the sides of your neck. Judging by the way you squirm, he knows he’s affecting you more than you’re letting on. Then again, you were also affecting him more than he’d admit.

He knows he’s won this round when you slip off him, flopping on your back to touch yourself while he can’t do anything but watch–bullshit, he knows. You’ve overexerted yourself. Your eyes are barely open as you stroke long, imprecise circles into your clit, needing to get there, reach that edge and fall off, but not quite being able to. So you’re teasing him by taking a break. Smart, he thinks. But not enough to fool him.

“–Leon!” you squeal as he cages you beneath his body, arms flexing by your head, knees forcing yours apart. 

“Yes, princess?” he lilts, nipping your ear in affection before showering your face with kisses. “Something you want from me?”

Leon presses a hand down on your stomach, preventing you from lifting your hips. Then, slowly, he drags his cock against your soaked slit, tip barely nudging the entrance and making you gasp before he lifts it up, bumping your clit instead. You can see his shoulders strain, yet he maintains an agonizing amount of patience. How is he so patient? God, it feels like you’re burning up from the inside out. If he doesn’t fuck you right this moment, you might just give in. Be his submissive little girl, whatever. That’s not bad, actually. He’s practically nuzzling his face into your neck, lifting it up every so often to smile at you, bright blue eyes colored with mischief. And he just keeps grinding his tip against you, never quite giving you exactly what you need.

“Daddy can’t handle a little teasing?” he scoffs, mimicking your words from earlier. “Daddy can’t? Oh, I’ll show you what a little teasing is.”

//

The bar was slightly crowded, the stale air smelling of cheap beer and cigarettes. You found a table with your coworkers and ordered a round of drinks. The chatter was lively, everyone sharing stories from the day and laughing at old jokes. 

A few drinks later, you found yourself tipsy and alone at your table, your coworkers mingling around the bar. One of them was having a game of pool with Leon. You had decided to stay at the table and watch the game while nursing your drink. 

Leon stood at the pool table, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he lined up his shot. He leaned over, his body a perfect blend of tension and relaxation. God, he looked good. The two of you had developed a close bond over the years. You trusted him with your life, and he trusted you with his. Your friendship was solid, built on shared experiences and mutual respect. Over time, your friendship had grown into something deeper–an unspoken bond that nothing else could compare to. You found yourself drawn to him in ways that went beyond mere friendship, your heart racing whenever he flashed that boyish smile or offered a comforting word. It was more than just professional respect that you two shared; it was magnetic attraction that was getting harder and harder for the two of you to ignore. 

It wasn't until Leon had walked over and stood in front of you, that you realized the game was over. You had been so lost in your thoughts, staring at him, that you hadn't noticed. 

“Ever played?” he asked with a boyish grin, nodding to the pool table. 

You shook your head, taking a sip of your drink. “Nope. Never learned how. I've always wanted to try, though.” 

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “Want me to teach you? It's not too hard.”

You hesitated, feeling a flutter of nervousness. “Sure, why not? But be warned, I'm a fast learner.” 

Leon laughed as you stood up, grabbing a couple of cue sticks. “We'll see about that. Come on.”

As you walked over to the pool table, the noisy sounds of the bar faded into the background, your only focus being Leon as he handed you a cue stick and explained the rules of the game. His hands occasionally brushed against yours as he adjusted your grip and stance. 

“First, you need to get your stance right,” he said, positioning himself behind you. As he pressed his chest to your back, he began guiding your arms with his hands. “Like this.”

You could feel his breath ghost on your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. You hummed in affirmation, trying to focus on the game. 

“Now, aim for the ball,” he continued, voice low and steady. “And don’t forget to keep your eyes on the cue ball.”

You took a shot, but missed the ball completely. Leon chuckled lightly behind you. “That’s alright, it takes practice. Here, let me help you get the hang of it.”

He pressed himself even closer behind you and placed a hand on your upper back, pushing you forward until you were bent over the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you felt him put his arms around you, his much larger hands enveloping your own as he corrected your grip once again and guided your hands into the correct position. His crotch was barely grazing your ass, but that was all it took to turn you on. You inhaled sharply at the compromising position you two were in, feeling heat begin to pool between your thighs. 

Leon noticed your sudden intake of breath, and leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, most likely from the few drinks he had. “Now, watch how I do it,” he said while guiding your hands.

With his guidance, you took another shot, this time hitting the ball. It rolled slowly, hitting another ball, but didn’t make any pockets. “I guess I’m not as fast a learner as I thought,” you said with a shaky exhale. 

Leon chuckled, the sound sending butterflies throughout your stomach. “You’re doing great. Just need a bit of practice. He moved his hands to your waist, his presence a comforting weight behind your back. 

"Want to try again?" he asked, his voice softer now, more intimate. You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He positioned your hands again, his touch lingering longer than necessary. The atmosphere around you grew thick with unspoken tension, each brush of his fingers against yours sending sparks through your veins.

As you lined up for another shot, Leon's hand slid from your back to your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip. "Just like that," he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, his closeness intoxicating.

You took the shot, and this time, the ball sank into a pocket. You couldn't help but grin, turning your head slightly to look at him. "I did it," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and triumph.

Leon smiled back, eyes locking onto yours.“Atta girl! Let's try it one more time.”

As you took the shot, you felt Leon's body press even closer against yours, his crotch pressed firmly against your ass now, and you could feel his half hard cock through his jeans. His breath was hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. As you took your shot, you experimentally pushed your hips back, slightly grinding your ass against his crotch. 

Leon's grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought to control his own desire. You could feel the tension in his body, the barely contained need radiating from him in waves.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained with restraint. "You're a natural."

You turned to look at him, the intensity in his eyes leaving you breathless. "Thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Leon opened his mouth to say something, but abruptly closed it in hesitation. “Do you…Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked. 

You caught the hesitation in Leon's voice, sensing there was something more behind his question. Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his eyes for any sign of what he was really asking.

His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, a silent invitation hanging in the air. Without a word, you nodded, your own desire mirrored in his intense gaze.

In a heartbeat, Leon took your hand, leading you through the crowded bar towards the exit. The world around you faded into a blur as anticipation coursed through your veins.

The night air was cool on your flushed skin. Leon led you to the dark alleyway beside the bar, abruptly pushing you flush against the rough brick wall, and before you could even register the slight pain, his lips were on yours in a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. His hands roamed your body, moving up from your hips to your breasts where he groped you roughly. 

Your hands grabbed his now fully hard cock through the fabric of his jeans, causing him to let out a strangled moan into your mouth. You fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, the urgency in your movements mirroring his own need for you. Leon's ragged breaths mingled with your own as you finally succeeded, the sound of his heavy breaths filling the air as you pushed his jeans down his hips.

His hands had moved down to your thighs now, reaching up your skirt as he ran his finger along the wetness of your panties.

“Fuck…already so wet f’me,” he teased as he slid your soaked panties to the side, gathering your slick on his fingers as he pushed a finger inside of you while circling your clit with his thumb.

You whined as you began pumping his hard cock, precum staining your hand. “Leon…need you inside of me, now.”

“Fuck–I know, baby, I know. Just be a good girl and take my fingers for now. Then you can go dumb on my cock, yeah?”

You moaned and nodded, bucking your hips into his hand to gain more friction on your clit. 

With a wicked grin, Leon complied, his finger delving deeper inside you, curling and stroking in all the right places as you whimpered and squirmed against him. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, the sensation building with every thrust of his hand.

You clung to him desperately, your need for release growing with each passing second. Leon's touch was electrifying, his fingers expertly navigating your slick folds as you teetered on the edge of ecstasy.

Right when you were about to cum, Leon removed his fingers, bringing them up to his lips and tasting your slick. He grabbed your thigh, holding it up around his hip as he guided his thick tip to your entrance, pushing in slowly. 

You keened at how his thick cock stretched the walls of your cunt. You've never had a cock this big, and he was filling you so good. You clenched around him as he gave you a second to adjust, causing him to let out a low groan. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Leon rolled his hips into yours as he leaned in and began sucking marks onto your neck. His cock was angled just right and was brushing against that gummy spot that had you seeing stars. 

You began meeting his thrusts, urging him to take you deeper and faster. Leon’s breath was hot against your ear as he moaned dirty praises, igniting a fire deep within you. 

As his thrusts became sloppier, signalling his quickly approaching release, Leon began working his fingers on your clit, pushing you further to the edge. 

The alleyway echoed with the rhythmic slapping of Leon's hips against your own, mingled with your shared moans that filled the air.

With one final, deep thrust, he hit your g-spot perfectly, sending you over the edge. Your chest heaved as you let out a strangled cry, your walls clenching tightly around his cock. A wave of ecstasy washed over you, your cunt gushing around him in a release that left you trembling. 

The sensation of your velvety walls tightening around him was all Leon needed. His grip on your hips tightened, and with a guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled his hot cum, filling you completely. His body shuddered against yours, both of you lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

As the intensity of your orgasms subsided, Leon remained close, his breath warm against your neck. He gently pulled out, and you could feel your combined releases trickling down your thighs. He steadied you, his hands now soft and tender on your waist. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, but laced with concern. 

You nodded, a dopey smile playing on your lips. “More than okay,” you replied, leaning your forehead against his. 

Leon chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “We should probably get back before the others start wondering where we are,” he said, but he made no move to pull away from you. 

“Yeah, we probably should,” you replied reluctantly, moving to adjust your clothes.

Before you could move to leave, Leon caught your wrist, pulling you back for one more kiss. It was slow and tender, unlike the kiss you shared in the heat of the moment. “This…this wasn't just a one-time thing, right?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. 

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for him. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

With a final shared glance and a knowing smile, you both made your way back into the bar. The noise and lights greeted you, a stark contrast to the intimate darkness of the alleyway. As you rejoined your coworkers, the atmosphere was lively, with no one seeming to have noticed your absence.

Leon slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Let's grab another drink," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

To make matters worse, your free hand was resting on one of his forearms, slowly tracing along the veins on it. He held his breath, trying not to feel the heat radiating off of your body.

And then–and then you look back and flash him a brilliant smile. His heart whines in his chest.

"Do you want a drink?" In an attempt to assuage his own guilt (or rather, drown it), he hustles over to the cabinet, rummaging for some liquor. Drinking on a Thursday night, yeah...well. You were fresh out of college. Behind several bottles of whiskey, a dusty bottle of champagne sat untouched. Great. Way to go, Leon. 

“I don’t have many options,” he laments. “They don’t exactly have grocery shops in the secret combat zones I work in.”

You laugh, and his chest puffs up in pride. “That’s fine. You got another mission coming up?”

“Nope,” he says emphatically. “Seems like bioterrorists take a vacation once in a while, too.” His confidence swells as you react positively to his one-liners, then plummets once you turn to face him, arms outstretched. 

“C’mere. Can I give you a hug?”

Leon freezes, fist clenching around a half-open bottle, then nods. Too eagerly. Is he shaking? He can’t tell if it’s the abysmally cold temperature in his apartment or just you, but he has to close his eyes for a moment to stabilize himself once your arms wrap around his waist. Stabilize himself. God, Claire would’ve laughed her head off. Leon Kennedy, renowned flirt, falling to his knees because a friend asked to hug him.

He drinks in the sensation of your skin greedily. Soft hands pressed against his back, chest flush to his. When he doesn’t say anything, leaving his hands loosely on your hips, you frown. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He’s a bad man, he’s sure of it. He’s a creep, he’s weird, and he’s just a bad friend in general, because the second you pull away, he’s pushing a lock of hair from your face and basking in your worry. Yes, basking. Not that he enjoyed seeing you upset, but you–you were worried. Because of him. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s hardly sure if he’s breathing at this point. He thinks he must be dreaming, because you’re looking at him like he’s the most endearing thing in the world, art coming to life, a face that could be adored. He chides himself. It’s in his head. “You, uhh…you figure out what’s wrong with my computer?”

When you place a hand on his cheek, he’s a goner. “Of course, silly. Did you even install a router?”

“Yeah,” he says again, stupidly. “Uh, it’s in my room. In the closet. I’ll go get it.” Before you can say another word, he darts away, clambering to his room and shutting the door. Leon takes a deep breath. 

“Fuck,” he swears to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, and he should send you on your merry way. Back to your apartment, away from weird old men like him who perceive every gesture of kindness as an advance.

Does he do that?

No.

Instead, he preens his hair in the mirror across from his bed, straightens his suit lapels, and steps back into civilization. Where normal people had normal thoughts and feelings about their friends, especially their significantly younger ones.

When he returns, you’re sitting at the kitchen table (yes, he wasn’t a total imbecile–he did have furniture). You're sipping a glass of whiskey as delicately as one can, given the acrid taste, and absently shaking your leg. And, since you were sitting, your dress rode up your thighs. What had been a hint of legs became almost the whole expanse of skin, soft and supple and so tempting to him. Tempting? What a creep.

“Hope you don’t mind that I started without you.” He nods tersely, pouring himself his own glass and avoiding eye contact. 

As the whiskey hits his throat, he finds himself slowly unwinding. His moral reservations from before begin to loosen, then slip from his grasp entirely. He was just a guy with a crush. He was hurting no one. Slowly, his confidence comes back to him.

Leon yawns, stretching so that his V-lines peeks from under his shirt. "Muscle cramp," he lies, running his fingers through his hair and making flirtatious comments that you returned, perhaps innocently, but returned nonetheless.

“Leon?”

He realizes that he'd gone quiet for a moment.

“Sweetheart, can you help me out with something else instead?”

If it was wrong, why did your breath hitch when he placed a hand under your jaw? If it was wrong, why did your fingers snake behind his neck? If it was wrong, why did your eyes fan shut as he kissed you ravenously? Pulling you onto his lap, hoisting you into the air and leading you to the living room couch? 

Usually, when men try to initiate sex, they’re crass, aggressive. But Leon–he’s just desperate. When he throws you down on the sofa, he groans. He never stops talking between kisses, fuck, baby, you’re so pretty, can’t believe I got so lucky, drags his hands along any and every part of you that he can. It makes your heart soar, the fact that this big, esteemed government agent was falling apart because of you, and you’d hardly done anything yet.

“Leon…,” you gasp, and he short-circuits. You’re under him, hair and dress splayed prettily to your sides, silently begging him for more, legs wrapping around the back of his thighs. Pawing at his back as he kneels over you, wanting, needing more. Closer. More.

Leon complies with your wish, leaning back in for a kiss. This one’s slow, deep, makes your insides burn up. He tries to learn every inch of your lips, the crevice of your mouth, the underside of your tongue. Is it gross? A little. He knows that it’s way too wet, but with the way you invite him in, the way you claw at his back and beg for more, he can’t help himself.

If he’s a dirty old man that has fantasies of his younger neighbor, so be it. Just for tonight.

“Where’s your router?” you tease, running your fingers along his stubble.

“Fuck, uh,” he swears. “I don’t have one.” You laugh, pulling him back in for a kiss.

“Knew it. You always use my network when you’re home.”

“Can I make a ridiculous comment about our connection?” Before he can continue, you yank him by the collar, teeth colliding with the impact of it. His blazer hits the floor, then his shirt (way too many buttons, you grumble), then your dress, but before you can unlatch his belt buckle, he has you pinned with one hand while the other runs down your chest. “May I?”

“Yes.” 

Leon swears he’s losing his sanity. He latches onto your chest, swirling his tongue around the buds and sucking sharply. Moaning almost as loud as you. Bathing your chest in kisses, dragging his mouth along the undersides, nipping lightly at the skin and leaving a trail of pretty purple marks. 

When he reaches your pussy, he’s noisy with it. Messy. He flattens his tongue inside of you, groaning and lapping up every inch he can get. His nose nuzzles against your clit repeatedly, roughly, and when he tilts his head up to suck on the sensitive nub, the entire area is coated in your slick. It would’ve been embarrassing had he not been moaning louder than you.

“You like when this old man takes care of you?” he practically purrs, diving back in with a punctuated suck on your clit. When you moan out in response, he presses slow, heated kisses along your labia, then drags the expanse of his tongue up your slit. “Oh, you like that? You like it when I take care of your princess parts?” Then flicks the tip of his tongue along your clit, alternating between kitten licks and long swirls. 

“Yes, yes,” you pant, mewling so loudly that you have to bite the back of your hand. Leon won’t have any of that.

“Oh, baby,” he purrs, replacing the hand on your mouth with his. “Can’t take a little attention? Your cunt is that desperate?”

His thumb brushes against your lower lip. On a whim, you maneuver it so it rests in your mouth. Leon could’ve cum in his pants at the sight.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” You give his thumb a light suck at his words, and he retaliates by giving you a smothering kiss on your cunt. “So pretty. So pretty just like this, yeah? Need me to take care of you, not any of those younger guys who don’t know how to treat you right?” Leon finishes his rambles by replacing his tongue with his fingers, crawling forward to give you a searing kiss. His lips were wet with your arousal, and when you moved your head away, mumbled something about how his face was soaked, he laughed. 

“Look at you, baby. So fuckin’ wet that you made my face all drippy. You want this old man’s cock that bad?” You nod desperately. “Clean it up, then. I can’t take care of my girl if my face is drenched because of her. Wanna be clean for my pretty girl, right? Not dirty.”

You nod your head, making quick work. All dignity thrown to the wind, you lap at his cheeks, then his nose, and finally, his mouth, eating away all the arousal you’d left on him. “That’s my girl,” he says throughout all of it. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

You palm at his slacks, still stubbornly on, and he damn near whines. Talking about how he’ll get a desk job, transfer departments, hell, quit his fuckin’ job at the DSO, just so he can come home and take care of you every single night. Fuck, only for his pretty princess. Only for you. 

“You’d do that for me?” You bat your eyes at him, mascara running down your cheeks from how good this feels. 

“Anything, princess.” Finally, he undoes his belt, making quick work of the rest of his clothes. When he finally frees himself from his boxers, your eyes water.

“You want it?” he taunts, swiping a hand over the angry red tip. The same veins that travel up his arms are on his dick, pretty and pink and twitching. 

“Yes, daddy,” you say, half-joking, half-serious. He smiles sweetly.

“Aw, you want daddy’s cock?” he coos. “I bet you do.” Leon kisses down your chest, then your stomach. You feel like you’ll burst if he doesn’t just fuck you then and there. Looking up at you, big blue eyes, before he gives your pussy another experimental lick, but it’s enough to leave you keening. He’s insatiable. He sucks on your clit so hard that you see stars, swirls his tongue around inside you, groans the whole fucking time about how pretty you are. Kisses all over your thighs, sucks marks into them. You prop yourself on your shoulders and notice that he’s humping the bed while eating you out, eyes narrowed but refusing to shut—to see you coming undone by him. He looks pathetic, but how can he help himself when it’s you?

And finally, finally pulls away, face glistening with your arousal, as he guides his tip toward your entrance.

With how wet you were, he could’ve sheathed himself fully in one thrust. Instead, he prolonged this as much as he could. You knew he was fucking with you because he could. Because he liked to see you cry pretty tears for him, so what? You were just so pretty, and seeing you want him that bad made him want you even more, if that was possible.

 “More, more,” you beg. Leon just laughs.

“There’s one thing that younger men get wrong. They think that faster means better. Once she cums, you’ve finished the job. But when you’re my age, you want to fuck a girl so good that she doesn’t stop cumming. So I’m gonna take my time with you. I’ve waited thirty-eight years to fuck a girl like you.”

His eyes nearly roll into his head. You’re bouncing back on his cock, sharp whimpers leaving your mouth. And your cute little pussy just keeps sucking him up, a little creamy ring dripping onto his balls. His tip nudges your walls and you pulse around him. “Pretty girl. That’s it, sucking me in so pretty.” You babble incoherently, as he pulls your back to his chest, one hand kneading your tits while the other bounces you up and down on his cock. 

“Look at that,” he purrs. Your eyes flick toward him in the mirror, his stern gaze splitting you open as if his cock wasn’t doing that already. You hadn’t even noticed that was there. “So pretty. Look at yourself, pretty girl. Wanted you for so long. And look at you now–pathetic.” A pit in your tummy warms, making you clench tighter and him thrust harder. You look like a mess–your head is barely upright, bobbing with each slam of his hips, your chest is practically purple, and the sound of him fucking you is so wet it should’ve embarrased you. But you couldn’t be, not when he waw fucking you this good and he looked so pretty, big blue eyes devouring you whole, stubble nuzzling against your shoulder as he craned his neck, showering it with kisses.

“Mmm, Leon,” you whine. “Gonna cum. Please, please, can I cum?”

Leon groans at the desperation in your tone. Normally, he would’ve corrected you, taken you over his knee until you knew who was fucking you (daddy, not Leon. Leon was for outside the bedroom only). But you were so cute, and he’d dreamed about this moment for so long that he couldn’t say no to you. “Go ahead, princess. Cum for daddy.” With that, your vision went white, pussy spasming around his dick. Leon couldn’t hold back much longer, either. Swearing under his breath, he tenses up, gripping the flesh of your sides tightly before he cums–

–so much. When he finally finishes, he cums lots and lots. There’s so much coming out of him that he feels drained, your release and his wetting the sheets. A strangled noise comes from the back of his throat, one he didn’t think was possible. You clench at how hot he looks coming undone like this–and he just keeps going. He fucks you past your orgasm and his until you’re making a mess everywhere and you’re both shaking and whimpering from the overstimulation.

“ ‘S too much daddy, please,” you cry, hot tears pricking your waterline. Leon feels his heart melt, instantly coming to a stop. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks gently, stroking your hair. You nod.

If there was anything that was understated, it was the fact that older men weren’t just better at sex. They were unreal with aftercare. Leon pampered you, showering you with kisses, cleaning up your fluids with a wet wipe and even carrying you to the bath after. While you scrubbed your hair, Leon hummed away in the kitchen, a towel hanging loose around his lower half.

When you finally re-emerged, wearing one of his old RPD shirts, Leon tosses you a lopsided grin so handsome that your heart skips a beat. “Hungry?”

You gape at him. “Leon, I can’t. You’re too kind.”

Leon plates the food. “I figured you might be hungry.”

As the two of you dine, exchanging light conversation, you frown. “How’d you know I like this dish?”

Leon rubs the back of neck sheepishly. “Well, every time you ordered delivery, I noticed that you got this.”

“Weirdooo,” you groan, playfully jabbing your fork in his direction. Leon chuckles, a red hue coating his cheeks.

Soon enough, he’s washing the dishes, refusing any help because "he’s the one who caused you the inconvenience of helping him." You give him a hesitant smile, glancing at the door.

Leon catches your eye and feels his heart sink ever-so-slightly.

“Sooo, wanna get dinner sometime?” he asks before he can help himself. “It’s not usually my style to fuck a girl before I’ve taken her out first.”

“Well?” Leon crosses his arms, leaning back against the cubicle dividers while the tip of his shoe kneads your cunt roughly. “You’re quiet today.”

“I’m working,” you snark, lightly smacking his leg with your hand.

“Show me.”

“What?”

Leon swings his legs onto the floor, crouching between yours. Tilts his head up at you, big eyes all pretty and the babiest blue, stubble nuzzling the skin where your pencil skirt ends. “I said, show me what you’re working on.”

You should’ve kicked him out then and there. You should’ve chewed him out for making you do a full-day patrol on your last mission while the others did the real work. God, you should’ve brought up that last mission. 

You say the one thing you knew would get him out of your hair.

“You can’t even fuck right.”

“Yeah?” he breathes. “What’s this, then?” Your eyes flit towards the still-ajar door. He grins wickedly. Asshole. Before you can protest about someone seeing you two, he slides his head under the linen material of your skirt and nuzzles his nose against your pussy. 

Leon grins wickedly. You don’t like that. You’re humiliatingly wet and he’s not even trying.

“Rookie…” he groans. “All for me?” He bats his lashes up at you. The spitting image of innocence even as his head’s between your thighs. 

One time Claire had caught him with his hand on your waist in the break room. Called him a cradlerobber, among other things (hit on someone your own age, creep!). Imagine how she’d feel if she saw this.

Yeah, Leon’s weird. Swears he’s the noble man everyone here makes him out to be, but you make his morals vanish. He nicked Dylan Blake at Alcatraz a mere week prior, saved the president’s daughter a decade before that, has led countless teams and emerged heroic–and he’s fucking a girl twenty years his junior. 

Get a load of that. Or, get a load of him. He knows he shouldn’t do it, but you’re so cute when you beg him, inside, cum inside, that he does it every time. Blows his load so hard that his eyes roll back into his head and he practically mewls in your ear. You grin so smugly after that he has to fuck you till your mind goes blank and his hips cramp.

Leon got himself a single-family home last year, even though said family is just him, his bottles, and lately–you. He figured that he was too old to be bouncing around apartments, and he’d saved up enough from his job to get something real nice. It’s a cozy place. Prairie style interior and a Frank Lloyd Wright inspired lamp you’d helped him pick out. You might hate him, but you had good taste. 

Every non-mission workday, you swear up and down that you hate him. Every night you end up getting fucked silly on the living room couch, the windows facing rolling green hills. A part of him is glad that he doesn’t have close neighbors. A sinister part wishes that he did so they could see all the nasty fucking he was doing, how he could fold you flat. You moan about how there’s not enough space for both of you on the couch, chests heaving against each other, but you never make it to the bed before he’s all over you.

Leon loves to tease. It’s his own taste of revenge, seeing you squirm instead of talking back to him. Your skirt is now bunched up around your thighs and he’s pressing hot kisses to your clothed cunt. In between messy sucking, he manages to convey that your coworkers are out and it’s just you and him for a little while. He wants to keep you on edge until you’re humping the seat.

“Leon?” you say in the littlest, whiniest voice. His eyes flit up to see yours shining with tears.

“Baby, don’t cry,” he coos, kissing the backs of your hands with surprising tenderness. “I just want to make you feel good, yeah?” You nod, head empty and all caution thrown to the wind. For employment’s sake, he shuts the door and locks it behind you. He’ll figure out an excuse once your coworkers come knocking, and they’ll believe it. Because he’s Leon fucking Kennedy.

You love Leon, but you hate him. Leon pulls your tits out of a frilly pastel babydoll dress and mashes them together while he fucks you. Leon looks down your blouse the next day at work. You ask him to, of course. He’s not a total creep. You just hate the way he swipes his tongue over his lips after. And you hate how it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

When he was twenty-two, someone gave him a zombie plushie to celebrate the fact that he had finished his first mission with the DSO. He hated that thing. Chucked it in the back of his drawer for years. Honestly, he’d forgotten he had it until you came along, and you sewed a bonnet and a coat for it, made it all cute. 

(He fucks you while you hold onto it for dear life. You try to stifle your whines with the plush, but that, along with the wet plap plap plap as he fucks in and out of you don’t do much for noise control. If he’s honest, he’s thought about getting you a cute pacifier to suck onto instead of his hands or the head of that plushie. He’s just too embarrassed to bring it up.)

He takes your hands into his with surprising tenderness, giving each a kiss before placing them back on your thighs. “Princess–” and you stop breathing. “What’s gotten into you? Just now you were trying to kick me out, and now, you’re humping my hand.” 

At the tiniest nod of approval, he sinks a single finger inside. You’re so wet that you’re already squirming for more.

“When’d my rookie get so naughty? Six months ago you would hardly look my way, and now, you’re showing up to work without panties on. Did you plan this?” When you respond with a whine and a shift of your hips, he stops.

“Words, baby.” Baby. The word makes your head spin for reasons you can’t–or rather refuse to–pinpoint. You hate him, yes. But it sounds so good when he says it.

“Please?” you whisper. Impatiently rutting yourself on his one finger. Leon plants his hands on your hips, stilling your movements. 

“Pretty pussy begging for me to fuck her,” he snarls. “So wet you’re dripping onto the seat.”

You practically squeal as he latches his lips onto your clit, sucking, flicking his tongue in motions he knows you like. He hovers right above your entrance, meeting your eyes as he slowly, slowly, glides his tongue along it, then nuzzles his nose into your clit. You shut your eyes as you immediately lean into his touch, digging your fingers through his hair, fighting his grip with your legs.

When Leon finally fucks you, you cum so hard that he has to wipe it off the floor. He curls his fingers in your pussy after and gathers your fluids. “Clean it up,” he says sternly, offering his cum-soaked hands for you to suck on. You swirl your tongue around each finger, down to the palm, until he’s satisfied. He slides into you after while you sob into his shoulder about how it hurts, how you can’t take any more. If you wanted him to stop, you’d say your safe word, but you don’t. 

Nasty fucking rookie. Loves the pain.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groans. “Where should I cum?” You scramble on the floor for something, and his stomach flexes when he realizes what it is. Your panties. When you place the gusset over his tip, he explodes right there and then, staining your pretty lace thong with loads and loads of cum. By the time he finishes cumming, they’re practically soaked. And then you put them back on, patting his cum into your cunt. Beaming. 

The sight is so nasty that it makes him wish he was young enough to fuck you again. He doesn’t have that kind of stamina anymore. Doesn’t stop him from flipping you over onto your stomach and eating you out one last time before your coworkers come back.

Yeah, you hate each other. Yeah, he takes you out to nice meals because he can’t fuck a girl without buying her dinner first. Your favorite bras and slips and babydoll dresses are in his dresser, and he picks out which one he wants to see you in each night. His favorite shirts become your sleep shirts, and he memorizes your coffee order so you don’t pass out in the morning. He takes extra long on his reduced paperwork load (perks of being senior) and watches you do yours. You run your hands down his suit lapels before work, and he notices you stare all day. You buy him that fancy Redken shampoo because you hate pulling on knotted hair, but you lather the suds into his hair for ages. 

On Friday nights, you binge TV together while he fucks you spooning. On Saturday mornings, you drag him to the farmers market to pick out flowers for his vases, and you always end up splitting a warm pretzel. He always gives you the bigger half and you pick indigo flowers because they remind you of his eyes.

But yeah, you hate each other. He’s an insufferable poster boy for the US government, and you’re the overconfident, sometimes reckless rookie. Terrible working together.

He noticed that she had a gaze that held... nothing else but simple thoughts that anyone else would consider stupid or even useless. "What am I going to eat for dinner tomorrow?" "Man, I really need to shower." "I gained two pounds, I hate this." Potential thoughts that the woman's eyes likely carried made Leon almost smirk at the innocence and near stupidity that those eyes held. She could be no older than the age range of twenty to thirty, a vast difference from himself, being in his fifties.

He'd attempted, really fucking attempted to just brush her off and walk away to the bar, diner, or wherever the hell he was going, but that fragile innocence, that naivety, that almost adoring gaze up into his eyes made him sigh. Fuck. He thought. He began a casual chat with her. It was simple.

"Where are ya heading?" He wondered with that gravely voice that made her pupils widen ever so slightly.

"Ah, my friend was supposed to drive me but I think she went to fuck her boyfri... uh- I'm going hom... uhmmmm- I'm not supposed to tell you." She said, face palming with a nervous chuckle. She looked like she wanted to spontaneously combust right then and there as she'd fucked her words up, accidentally revealing information to a complete stranger. Cute. Leon thought with a scoff and a sexy smirk. He'd been right, she was naive as hell. She was lucky he wasn't actually some perv. Then she'd be in real trouble. That accidental slip of the tongue already made him feel a surge of overprotectiveness over this girl.

They continued chatting and before he knew it, he'd invited her to come to the diner he was headed to. What the fuck am I doing? He wondered at some point, but he really didn't bother to linger in that section of his mind to find out or dwell on it. He just... let it happen.

Leon was unaware that Y/N currently felt a similar way he did when she first saw him. There was such an alluring aura to the very presence of such a sexy and mature individual. He radiated safety. It made her want to cling onto him like a fucking sloth to a tree. She treaded carefully, however. She wasn't that stupid. Many times she'd heard things, stories. About awful men, perverts, kidnappers, so many criminals, tales, mysteries. And while he looked like a beacon that guided one to safety, she could be completely wrong about him.

That doubt resolved quickly after a night of delicious, old-fashioned food and a simple chatting session with a man who told her just enough pieces of his life that she admired him and his bravery, and he didn't seem to be aiming for the final destination of the night to be sex. He sent her on her way that night exactly like she'd thought he would, like literal safety with a pretty face.

-

She found herself unable to resist wandering around that diner until she inevitably "bumped" into him just a few days later. He seemed to be more than okay with that thought and before they knew it, they were exchanging numbers. Various nights of chatting, sharing hobbies, details of themselves and creating this strangely fitting bond passed, and Y/N found herself giggling to flustered death as she fell asleep every night. Leon groaned deep as he went to sleep with a forearm draped over his eyes, Y/N's cheery voice and lively form flashing in his mind in ways he did not except every night.

Leon found himself thinking about her more than he should've. And his protectiveness was at an insane level whenever he was near her. A man was flirting with her one day at a bar, and he dragged her away by the waist, giving the man a death glare that made him want to shit himself, all while grumbling that he was a pervert that "very clearly only wanted to use her for sex."

One night after a long time without interactions, when he was no longer busy, (he was seemingly always working on something), they went to watch a movie together. It was a reboot of an action flick that was presented to the modern-day audience as it's own new thing, but Leon remembered the original. In this strange way, they both were equally invested in it. After the movie had ended, Leon and Y/N stood outside of the movie theater, near an alleyway, exchanging little comments about the movie and little goodbye comments while looking into each other's eyes with more feeling than what seemed normal. Leon looked nearly... starved.

"Y'know what, I'm pretty glad I bumped into you that night, Mr. Kennedy. You're a pretty cool guy..." She trailed off, still trying to desperately not to seem like she was implying anything he might not want. "I'm glad 'bout it, too..." He said gruffly, voice somehow huskier than usual, looking down at her lips before gripping her shoulders softly but with a protectiveness to it, knocking the breath right out of her. As he began to test the waters and lean in, she did so too and before they knew it, their lips were locked together. And before he realized what he had done, Leon had her pinned to the alley wall, biting at her lower lip with a deep groan as she returned the kiss with a little whine. A man walking by the sidewalk gave them a nasty side eye and Leon pulled himself away, trying to take a deep breath and compose himself. "I'm sorry- I- I didn't mean-" Y/N began anxiously thinking she'd crossed a line but Leon covered her lips with a calloused finger letting out soft, little 'shh's that shut her up instantly.

He drove her back to her place calmly, yet eyeing her with suppressed hunger whenever a streetlight halted his car. God, he was so fucked. In only a few weeks, this girl and her strange... way of being, had taken over his mind like a fucking plague. Perhaps he was taking this too fast...

That didn't stop him from losing his self-control the second he parked the car in her driveway however. He gripped the side of her jaw with a rough hand. Her skin was so much softer than his, it made her feel precious. He stared at her lips and when she also leaned in, he leaned in faster, devouring her lips as if they were honey laced with addictive drugs. She whined again, unable to control it, breathing growing heavy as he hauled her up roughly onto his legs, making her straddle him in the car seat. "L-Leon-" She breathed, and her arms went limp as his lips trailed to her neck, pressing soft kisses to it. She could feel his stubble scratching her softly, a delicious contrast to his softer, experienced lips soothing her skin. He knew exactly what area would excite her, where to lick, where to peck, where to leave sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. Perks of being an older man. "What the fuck did you do to me?" He whispered roughly, grabbing her hips and dragging his large hands up her body until he reached her head, gripping the sides of her face, dragging her into a sloppy French kiss. She kissed him back the best she could, they were chest to chest and she moaned when she could feel that his heartbeat was just as intense as hers, if not worse. It was a competition of who was hungrier for the other because their tongues were swirling in such a delicious and real way that it would make pornstars jealous of the pure, raw sensuality of it. They went back and forth like this for what felt like five minutes, but it was actually closer to twenty when Leon unfortunately got a wake up call, literally. Someone at work needed something important. He let out an angry and low groan of disappointment as he agreed quickly and hung up the phone.

"I'm gonna have to see you tomorrow, Gorgeous." He said as he let them both out of the car and walked her home with a final, soft farewell kiss to the forehead.

Y/N. Couldn't. Wait.

A/N: I FUCKING LOVED RE9, it was SO GOOD!!! TELL ME IF MY WRITING IS GOOODDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

You'd heard the rumors of Leon Kennedy, he was exactly what everyone going into this wanted to be. You were the lucky recruit to be trained directly under him, and you were so excited.

That was until you saw him. Practically twice your age, maybe literally. He was sculpted by the gods you were convinced, so perfectly that nothing man made could fit him; based on how every single shirt he wears into work seems to be ripping at the seams.

It was hard not to stare. Not when every time he gave you an ounce of praise you imagined he was saying it while above you in a hardly professional manner.

"Are you paying attention?" Leons gruff whisper broke through your dissociation.

You nodded, trying to act as if you were paying attention to the speech you all were being forced to sit through. He didn't believe you, it was obvious by how his eyes narrowed in your direction before shaking his head and turning back to the front.

—

The day only got worse. You'd spent half of your free time screaming into the void that was your group chat about the man; the word daddy being thrown at you constantly, and the other half staring at him as he tried to explain what was happening.

You'd been sitting at his desk most of the day, easier to explain when he didn't have to try and figure out someone elses computer according to him. The comment remained you starkly of his age, given the fact you all had the same exact computers.

You didn't care really; being at his desk meant sitting in his chair, surrounded by leathers and fabrics that had taken on his scent throughout the years.

Halfway through a text to your friends Leon came back from his 'super secret meeting' with your boss. You didn't look up at first, too engrossed in the indulgent texts your friends were sending you about him.

"You do know you were supposed to report five minutes ago yes?" His words shook you out the distraction into a panicked state.

"Oh shit!" You squealed, standing up so fast you almost knocked over the chair.

In your panic you didn't think to grab your phone, leaving it open on Leon's desk with messages still flowing in. He thought it was his phone, after all it is his desk.

He was halfway through reading the days messages when you came back, closing the phone so you wouldn't have the faintest idea about how he just spent the last ten or so minutes.

"It went well?" Leon asked, his voice low in an attempt to mask the thoughts now plaguing his mind.

"You lied and made me think I was late!" You groaned, grabbing your phone off the table without a second thought.

"Gotta trust your judgment not just my word." He chuckled, winking at you as he got out of his seat allowing you to sit back down into it.

You paused, trying to take in the fact that he winked at you. Narrowing your eyes, you sat back down into the fancy leather. Leon stood much closer to you this time, so close you swore you could feel his breath hitting your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he was doing it on purpose. The messages should aggravate him, should be borderline unsettling. He's your superior, your mentor, you shouldn't be thinking about his this way, let alone discussing it with others.

Maybe that's why it got to him like this. You wanted him knowing it was wrong, you were open about it to the point where he witnessed just how far it went.

He shouldn't be replaying the messages in his head, let alone with him standing directly behind you. It wasn't like him to get this distracted. But, he couldn't help but wonder if you'd actually do what you said. How you'd sound beneath him. If you'd call him the name your friends had been all day.

—

Your phone going off at midnight was the last thing you'd expected, at least thats what you thought until you read Leons name on the screen. In a panic you picked up, your voice cracking as you spoke.

"Leon? Is everything okay?" You heard a sigh from the other end, the sound making you shiver despite the distance.

"Everything's fine." He spoke, his voice laced with the similar sound of annoyance you've heard every day since you met him. "I just—I need you to listen to me and not freak the fuck out."

"Okay?" You were starting to believe he was lying, again.

"I need you to stop texting your friends throughout your shift." The words were stern, and extremely confusing.

"What? How do you kn- Oh my god!" You screamed into the phone.

Out of instinct you threw your phone, hearing it crack slightly against the wall as you did. Pulling a pillow over your face to scream louder.

The only way he'd know is if he read the texts, and you truthfully couldn't think of a single innocent one you'd sent your friends all day.

You were so fired, or dead, it didn't matter which one at this point. Everyone was going to know you as the rookie who wanted to fuck her mentor, her mentor that was twice her age. You'd called him daddy in one text for fucks sake.

It was too much, the sheer embarrassment of it all was making it hard to—why was he calling? You've been off for hours, you go back into work in the morning. Why was he calling now? Why was he thinking of you this late at night?

Without another thought you jumped out of bed, running over to where you threw your phone praying that Leon was still on the call. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that he still was.

"Why are you calling about that now?" Your voice was shrill even to your own ears, the accusatory tone doing little to mask it.

"What?" Came Leon's voice through the speaker, deeper than before somehow.

"You could've told me that in the office, in the parking garage, literally anywhere but midnight in a phone call." Part of you felt crazy for talking to him like this, but you just knew you were right. "Were you thinking about it?"

Leon scoffed. "Where'd all this confidence come from rookie?" If you didn't know better you'd think he was making fun of you, but you could hear the slightest shake in his voice.

"Trusting my own judgment, were you?" Maybe this was a dream, because your mouth started moving before you could even process what you said next. "Were you thinking of me doing those things?"

You expected him to yell, fire you on the spot;even though you had no clue if he actually could. Instead, it was silence. You checked multiple times to see if he had hung up throughout it. He hadn't.

"Would you?" It was a quiet question, but it was enough.

"If you asked me to."

All you could hear was his breathing on the other side, you were pretty sure your own had stopped at this point. His seemed faster than normal, another detail you'd paid far too much attention to at your job.

After what felt like hours Leon's voice finally rang through your phone again. There was something in his tone that you'd never heard in it.

"Get some sleep rookie."

That was it. The line went dead. Leon literally hung up on you. What the fuck was that? How the fuck were you supposed to sleep now?

—

Not well. You didn't sleep well at all. That's why when the schedule change alert came in a few hours later you started to panic.

At first you thought maybe you'd gotten put onto a different mentor, the entire thing last night being Leon's way of testing you for some screwed up reason.

It wasn't, thank god. What it was didn't make much sense either. You'd been put onto an out of office mission, but it didn't specify where,what, or who to report to.

Two hours after that you got a text. Seeing his name pop up on your phone once again made you want to scream. "Meet me at this address around noon. Dress comfortable and stop freaking out."

You followed his instruction as much as you could. It was hard to not freak out, or be beyond pissed at the man.

That was until you got to the address. It was a residential one, the car parked in front of it all too familiar.

Leon opened the door, a dark grey shirt tucked into the grey sweatpants that you just knew he didn't do on purpose because why would he know about that?

It seemed like every negative emotion vanished the second you saw him. The floodgates opened once again as you felt your muscles clenching at the sheer view of him.

"Are we getting paid to sit in your house?" The first words out of your mouth and it was a stupid question.

Leon chuckled as he let you through the door. Not responding until you both were sat in his living room, himself on a chair off to the side while you took the couch.

"I won't tell if you don't."

"Is last night the same rule?" Your voice came out a bit harsher than intended.

He let out a sigh, sinking back into the chair. It took everything in you to not look down at what you imagined were spread legs.

"That's what I wanted to talk about. We can act like-"

"Were you actually thinking about what I said? Thinking about me that late?" You cut him off, your bombardment discarding his idea of forgetting it all.

Once again it was a long silence, but this time you could see him. His chest was raising faster than normal, fingers fidgeting with the end caps of his arm rests.

You wanted to look further down, part of you hoping you an even more evident effect on him, but you managed to keep your eyes upward for the time.

"Do you want the truth or the professional answer?" What a dumb question.

"The truth."

So that's what he gave you.

Leon started with how he read through most of the messages. How he found himself distracted thinking about every fictional scene you and your friends came up with.

He went into great detail about how he couldn't stop thinking about it, thinking about you. That late last night he couldn't sleep, pissed off that he was so turned on by the false sounds of you his mind created.

Going so far as to tell you his hand was inches away from his dick when you called you, the call an attempt to rein himself back in. But your questions and lack of disgust at him knowing your secrets made it worse.

That made you look down, just enough so that you could see he was telling the truth. Despite the baggy sweatpants you could see the growing outline of Leon's cock as he continued talking.

"I'm still your mentor, I'm not asking you to do anything. Anything physical between us would be beyond unprofessional no matter-"

"I won't tell if you don't." You mimicked his words from early.

Both of your eyes met. The blue you had stared at for ages gone, taken over by the dark pupils practically blown. It felt like a staring match, waiting for one of you to lose and make the first move.

You knew it had to be you. His professional integrity much higher than your own. No matter how bad he wanted you, decades of conditioning wouldn't let him.

It took a lot, probably all of your confidence for the next twenty years, but you walked towards him with one thought.

Leon watched you, eyes tracking you as if you were an enemy of sorts. Maybe you were, but that didn't matter much right now.

You both held your breath as you invaded his space, his legs parting slightly to allow you to stand between them. It didn't take much, leaning down until your lips barely brushed against his.

The slight touch is all it took for Leons resolve to break. His hands shot up to your face, pulling you closer to him and pushing his lips against yours.

A groan left him as you kissed back, your lips slotting perfectly between his chapped ones. The kiss was harsh, tongues brushing past one another in unsycned movements. Leons hand slid behind your head, locking his fingers through strands of your hair to hold you against him.

Taking initiative you situated yourself on his lap, knees digging into the minimal space left between his own and the edges of the chair. He smiled against your lips as you almost lost your balance, bringing his other hand to wrap around your waist keeping you still.

Holding you on his lap allowed you to feel everything. His cock was prominent between both of your thighs, the outline unhidden through the layers of fabric. Leon groaned as you pushed yourself against it slightly, testing your allowance.

"You're gonna kill me sweetheart." He whispered into the kiss.

"What a way to go?" You could hardly breathe, recovering from the kiss.

Leon laughed, nodding slightly in agreement before using his hand to guide your hips against him. You couldn't help the small whines leaving you as the movement created friction against your clit.

The hand that once resided in your hair started to slide lower, making its way to your front. He ghosted over your breasts as his lips made their way to your neck. The stubble on his chin scratched along the sensitive skin making your breath hitch.

Without a word you leaned back, struggling against the grip he had on you. Thankfully you managed enough to move back enough to pull your shirt and bra off, throwing them behind Leon with ease. You gave him a moment to stare, enjoying the feeling of his eyes on you before grabbing his hovering hand and pulling it towards you, placing it directly onto your breast.

"Fuck." He groaned, instantly kneading the muscle in his palm. "Taking initiative I see." His words were light, but you could see the intensity behind them with the way his teeth sunk into his lip soon after.

You nodded, dragging your hands across his covered chest. Giving him a moment to stop you your hands bunched at the hem of his shirt. When he didn't stop you, you pulled the thin shirt off.

"Isn't that—that's what you want in a—a rookie?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but with the view of his bare chest in front of your felt as though nothing else mattered.

"My rookie has a staring problem." It took everything in you to ignore the emphasis he put on the first word. "If you want something all you have to do is ask."

"I wanna lick your chest." You blurted, embarrassment long gone.

Leon didn't grace you with a response, not verbally at least. The second the words registered he was standing up, pulling you with him.

You didn't quite register how it happened, but before you knew it you were being carried through the house. Soon you were sat on the end of his bed, allowing you to look up at him and take in every small detail.

He was quick moving for his age. Quick to push down the sweatpants and boxers covering the rest of him. Giving you the full view of Leon Kennedy, making your eyes go wide. You were quick to follow suite, pushing your own pants and and underwear into the pile with his.

His thighs were thick, littered with scars and various bruises. And his cock, you had felt it before but the sight of it made your jaw almost drop. Bigger than average, groomed close to the skin, and hard, so much so it had you wondering for a fleeting moment if this was his plan the whole time.

It was fleeting for a reason, as Leon soon laid flat on his bed, arms resting by his sides.

"Do whatever your heart desires sweetheart."

You did. The position was awkward but it didn't matter. You ran your tongue against his chest, tasting the slight salt from his sweat. The blond seemed to enjoy the soft touch, small moans leaving him when your tongue traveled over scars.

At one point his hand hovered above your head, brushing fallen strands of hair out of your path. You'd forgotten about it in your escapade until it pulled you away from him once your lips attempted to travel lower.

"You said." You whined, lips inches away from his hard cock.

"Adorable." He tsked, somehow flipping your positions so you were filling the silhouette of where he just was, his head hovering above your pelvis. "Not today, another time okay?"

He laughed as your head shot up at his words, nodding enthusiastically at the promise of another day, another chance to have him like this.

His lips pressed into the skin of your hips, smiling against them as you moaned with every touch. It didn't take him long to move lower, rough hands pulling your thighs apart to allow him within inches of your soaked cunt.

Leon hovered, making you whimper out incoherent pleas. It took ages until he caved, his tongue licking a long meticulous stripe through your folds until it ended at your clit, pressing against it.

He repeated the action over and over, only speeding up when your hand tangled through the messy blond strands and pulled him closer.

One of his hands moved to meet his tongue, a single finger pushing easily into your entrance. You threw your head back, tightening your grip on him while trying to push your hips back onto his face.

Leon didn't seem to mind, starting a quick pace with his finger as his tongue created random shapes against your swollen clit. It had hardly been a minute before a second one followed, keep the same pace while you clenched around them.

"Leon, so close." You warned.

"Oh I know honey." He coo'd barely pulling away from you. "Need you to cum before I can fuck you, okay? Need to make sure you're ready for me."

The gentleness of his tone shocked you. It was a complete contrast of what you expected from him, from something so forbidden like this.

Just as your thoughts were about to spiral Leon pulled you back, a moan ripping through your throat as he barely managed to add a third finger, his pace slowing just enough to allow you to feel it.

"Breathe sweetheart, it'll be easier just give it a minute." You tried, it was hard when his head rested against your thigh, breath still hitting your core sending shivers through you.

Soon his words came true, the burn of three fingers turned into pleasure as his tongue joined once again. Your hips started to shift, trying to make him move.

Slowly Leon started to thrust his fingers into you, the stretch was intoxicating. Your orgasm was fast approaching, causing you to tighten around Leon harshly, pulling a groan out of the man.

One final flick of his tongue was all it took. Your thighs tried desperately to close around his head, held back by his other hand, barely.

The older man didn't pull away, didn't slow the rhythmic movement of his fingers as you came, only moving away as you pulled him back for air. His face was covered by you, causing the light to reflect off his face almost as if he had been painted.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of your soaked cunt, bringing them to his lips as he ran his tongue across them with a satisfied sigh.

"Feeling alright?" He whispered, seemingly ignoring the crack from his back as he sat up.

"Better than." You said breathless, trying to push yourself up enough to whisper in his ear. "If you don't fuck me into this mattress in the next minute I'm leaving."

Even with the serious look on your face Leon laughed, moving to press a kiss against your lips before pulling back. You watched as his hand wrapped around his cock, the member now red and leaking from the tip.

He ran it against your folds, covering the shaft in your juices. He whispered something as he tapped the head against your clit, chuckling as you shook from the sudden touch.

"Fuck you into the mattress, thats what you wanted right?" Leon asked hypothetically, an intimidating smirk settling onto this face.

Before you could respond, his hips slammed flush against the back of your thighs, his cock fully sheathed inside of you. Chapped lips slammed against yours as you screamed, tongue licking its way into your open mouth.

His chest was flush against yours, arms slipping between your shoulders and the mattress to fuck you against him in tandem with his thrusts. He didn't let you move, holding every part of you in place for him, causing your overwhelmed body to attempt to thrash against the bed.

The pace wasn't fast, but fuck was it deep. A consistent pace of pulling himself out fully and slamming back into you bordering on painful but so fucking addicting.

"This is what you wanted right? This is what you were imagining when you send those filthy fucking messages." His words were uttered between groans, his lips barely hovering above yours as he spoke.

"Yes! Yes fuck Leon please please…" You trialed off, willing to admit to anything at this point.

"Desperate to be fucked by someone decades older than you. Is that part of it? It is isn't it, fuck I can feel you clenching around me."

His lips moved to you neck, allowing you to throw your head back against the pillows finally. Teeth sunk into your skin as you wrapped your shaking thighs around his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Your breathing felt erratic, chest rising and pushing into his with every breath you managed to take, sensitive nipples practically scrapping across the sparse hair on his chest.

Your arms tried to reach his back, desperate to sink your nails into him. The size of him not allowing your arms to wrap around him. Instead you latched onto his biceps, nails digging into the muscular skin as your body started to build to your release once again.

"Good girl." Leon whispered into your neck, tongue laving over the burning skin. "I can feel you're close, make a mess on daddy's cock for me like the good whore you are."

He eased his grip on you the moment he spoke, watching as your back arched off the bed almost comically. You could hardly process the sounds leaving you as your orgasm took over your body and mind, vision going white behind your eyelids.

Leon kept thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm as you tightened against him. It didn't take long for him to follow suit, burying his head into your shoulder as he pulled out, stroking his cock until he came across your stomach.

He hissed as your nails left him, air hitting the small cuts in his skin. It was followed by a smile as you looked up at him, eyes wide and blown as you faded back to reality with whines of his name.

"Sticky." You mumbled as your brain started to register your body once again. Leon started to laugh, cut off when you reached your hand down and wiped some of his cum off of your stomach, bringing it to your lips with a hum. "Next time right?"

"I'll let you do whatever you want next time, promise."

"Yay." Came the quiet exclaim.

You felt his lips press against your forehead before his warmth left. Watching as he left the room for no more than a minute, returning soon after with a washcloth that ran across your stomach.

Thankfully he returned back onto the bed with you quickly, or at least that's how it seemed. Leon pulled you against him, letting your head rest against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. You buried yourself into his chest with a yawn.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

You ended having to help him walk the rest of the way back to your scouted house. You shouldered the responsibility without question, of course.

He was your partner of nearly six years, ordinarily your closest friend, and in all, someone you loved intensely.

But you were still on edge.

Each snap of a twig sent your head on a swivel. Each time Leon’s boot caught a rogue tree root, you’d choke on your own breath.

Luis would call back to the both of you occasionally. You still weren’t entirely sure if it was an act of sincerity, of checking in, or if he was prodding for an escape.

But really it didn’t matter. Luis was the last of your problems.

Leon was sweating like crazy. It practically poured from his hair line. When you first noticed, you also saw the way his eyes threatened to roll back.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You were quick to tap his cheek. “Hey, don’t do that, okay? You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Leon’s mangled groan made you wince.

“Just a few more feet. Just a few more feet then you can lie down, okay?”

Part of you expected him to collapse right there.

He didn’t—thankfully—but he was still sweating, he was still pale, and he was starting to look like death.

“Come on, Leon, just a little more,” you mumbled.

Suddenly, the man in question was burying his face into your hair. You felt the bridge of his nose scale the tip of your ear, and the curve of your skull.

“Leon—“

“You smell good. …‘S so unfair.”

You were struggling to hold him up at that point. “Leon, honey—please, work with me here.”

It wasn’t until you were standing on the back porch of the house, that Luis finally decided to help you out.

You had watched, rather helplessly, as Luis carried Leon to the far back room. You didn’t have the heart to follow either of them in. You just sat out on that porch for an hour or so, frozen, with tears in your eyes.

That was last night.

Now, as the dawning sun began to crest over the horizon, you were terrified of what would come next.

“What did they do to him?”

You look to your right, at the slumped over man. Luis had woken up only moments earlier, having yet to rub away the sleep from his eyes.

“¿Cómo?”

You huff. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Ah. Las plagas,” Luis yawns.

“What?”

Luis stands up and stretches. Faintly, you hear the popping of joints. The man then follows your stare to the door in front of you.

Turning back to you, he lets out another yawn. “It’s a…a virus. Some kind of disease that’s meant to make you do whatever they want.”

Just when you’re about to interrogate him further, you hear a loud groan echo from the room. Immediately, you sit up, while Luis shifts nervously on his feet.

When the quiet returns, you clear your throat. “Luis, I need you to be honest with me right now…”

Luis has slunk back to the wall. His eyes narrow on you for a moment before quickly looking away.

“Is Leon going to be okay?”

Luis sniffles. He wipes at his nose while looking down at his feet. “…Eventually, if we get our hands on my cure.”

“But not now,” you confirm.

The man shrugs. “It’s different for everybody. There’s really no telling how he’ll react.”

More noises come from behind the closed door then. One in particular makes your blood run cold.

It’s fairly muffled, but you’re still able to pick up on what sounds like the whine of an injured dog.

Then there’s a bang. A loud, abrupt thud to the door itself.

Your body works faster than your brain, legs carrying you to the door before you could even think twice.

Luis though is closer to the door than you are. Stepping in front of you, he raises his arm to block you. When you step forward anyway, Luis pushes back. “Stay put.”

You almost bite back. Almost.

Of all people, it isn’t Luis’ place to tell you what to fucking do, and it sure as hell isn’t his job to protect you against your partner. But for once, you opt to bite your tongue and listen.

Slowly, Luis pries open the door.

You try to look over his shoulder, but Luis is quick. Quick to slip into the room and close the door. Quick enough to know he should hold onto the doorknob so that you couldn’t open it.

“Luis.” You try the handle again, to no avail.

Still no response.

But you do hear voices.

There’s the melodic, almost spindly voice of Luis. It’s much louder and more pronounced, a little distracting as you try to listen closer. Eventually you hear a hushed tone—Leon’s. His voice is dull, imperceptible even, until it turns into sharp groans.

“Luis!”

The door suddenly pops open, and Luis slips back through before closing it again.

“Luis, what the fuck is going on? You better start talking or I swear—“

The man pushes past you, crossing the small kitchen to the back door.

You stare at him in disbelief and in restraint.

“Luis—“

“Señora, relax.” With an open palm he gestures vaguely to the closed door. “Your boyfriend is going to be alright. He just has the ‘fever’.”

Your mind blanks, tongue preemptively tying itself up in knots. “Boyf—what? No, Leon is not my boyfriend.”

Luis laughs, almost maniacally. “That’s what you’re focused on?” If you weren’t so stunned, you probably would’ve pummelled him into the floorboard.

You roll your shoulders and strain as if it’ll completely reset the conversation. “Luis, what do you mean by ‘fever’? …Is-is Leon going to…”

“Oh, no, no. Not from this, at least.”

Another pained sound echoes. Your fingers twitch at your side.

“So, it’s like the flu? Leon’s just sick?”

Luis shakes his head, and you deflate a little. “The ‘fever’ is just what we call it. Mainly refers to…to the increased body temperature, the…” he abandons the thought with a smirk. “It won’t kill him, but it’ll feel like hell for the next few hours if he doesn’t take care of it.”

You mull over his words carefully. “Okay, so, how do we take care of it then?”

“Love and attention—that’s the only way to fix it.” Luis then steps onto the porch, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. “I’m going to find us all something to eat. I should be back in a few hours.”

And with that he’s gone, off to god-knows-where.

Though, at the moment, that hardly matters. Because with Luis gone, you’re free to look after him.

As softly as you could manage, you knock on the door. “Leon.” Silence. “Leon, are you okay?”

This time, there’s a reply. It comes out choked and sounds a lot like a version of your name.

The door creaks on its hinges as you force it open. Instantly, you’re hit with stale air, and dust, and the harrowing sight of Leon curling in on himself.

“Leon…?”

A mop of mussed-up blonde hair slowly rises from the floor. Through the fallen strands, you find a familiar pair of eyes. In a way, he looked much more alive than he did yesterday. But your relief was only momentary. It didn’t take long to notice the web of black veins mapping out his face.

Leon groans again, flopping forward and on his side.

Despite how sick you felt, you made your way to him anyway. With a careful hand, you reach for his face.

The second the tips of your fingers graze his cheek, Leon flinches. He sits up quickly, backing into the wall, with his eyes closed and his teeth clamped down on his lip.

“Don’t-don’t touch me, please.” Hesitantly, you let your hand fall back into your lap.

You take a moment to regain your composure. “Luis says that you’re gonna be okay. Eventually. Um…apparently this is just—“

“A fever,” Leon mumbles. “Yeah, he told me.”

You nod, mainly to yourself.

At his request, you keep your distance, but you can’t help your wandering eyes.

There’s an arm strewn tightly across his stomach, holding onto his shirt like a lifeline. At his side, his other hand flexes. His knees are bent, pressed close to the rest of him as he continues to shrink in on himself.

You shift uncomfortably.

“Is there anything I can do?” Leon shakes his head. With a frown, you inch toward him. “Leon—“

“Please,” Leon groans your name. “I just need to wait it out. Just-I’ll be okay. Just please leave.”

“You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here for you, okay? Please, Leon, just let me help.”

Whatever you were maybe expecting to come next, it certainly wasn’t the sight before you.

Leon’s limbs unfurl as he tries for a new position to wilt into. And there, right between his splayed legs, you see a pronounced bulge. So stiff, it looks painful.

You don’t notice Leon’s eyes open, or how they find you: frozen, eyes wide and fixed on his erection.

You gape like a fish. “Leon…”

The man in question immediately shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry, this…” he looks up to ceiling, blinking and worrying his lip. His chest expands with a shake. “Luis said that…that this was normal. Sort of. That it’s just the virus reacting to me.” He forces a laugh. “Just my luck, right?”

Your thighs press together on their accord, and for the first time since you rescued him, you force yourself to look away. A certain kind of heat has started to creep up your neck.

Here’s your partner confiding in you about the incredible pain he’s experiencing and all you can focus on is the size of him.

You feel horrible. Gross. Perverted.

You then hear Luis words in your head like some sick call-and-response: “love and attention—that’s how you fix it.”

The words, and their premonitory meaning, finally settle within you. They pull on your lungs, and the cavity behind your ribs.

With the sharp press of your nails to your palm, you take a breath and ignore the flutter in the pit of your stomach.

“Leon…” The man sighs again. Carefully, you inch closer to him. “Luis told me how we can make you feel better.”

He grits his teeth. “I know. He told me that, too.”

You swallow hard. “Leon, I…if you want, I can help you.”

He gulps and shakes his head. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You wouldn’t be,” you say. “I’m offering, Leon. You’re my partner, a-and this is what we do—we help each other.”

Leon sits up a bit more, facing you almost directly. “I can’t ask this of you because this isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

“Well, obviously,” you almost laugh. “This isn’t, you know, an ideal situation—“

“No.”

That single word sends a rush of blood down to your cunt. You try to be subtle when you shift, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“When I…when I was going to tell you about how I feel…about you, I wanted it to be—I don’t know—romantic? Definitely not like this.” He chuckles around the words like they’re a loose canon in his mouth. And perhaps they are.

His eyes flicker with something unknown—something wilder and unkempt.

It makes you want to take a risk.

“Leon, I want to help. I wanna make you feel better…” the words die in your throat, but you know he understands. “But I need you to be sure.”

Of this, you mean. Of me.

Leon doesn’t say anything for a moment. Instead he just stares. His eyes trail over your face, they drag down your body, then back up to your mouth. His chest heaves. On his thigh, his hand is balled into a fist, white-knuckling the fabric.

Whatever little composure he had been holding onto unravels then.

“Fuck, —, I need you. I need you more than anything. …And that’s not the disease talking, either. I want you all the time.”

When you touch him, he flinches again. Except this time he doesn’t retreat.

Rather, he melts. He melts and molds and he pushes his cheek into your palm with his eyes screwed shut. He hums, and you feel its vibration throughout every part of you.

It’s a shock to your system that makes you clench around nothing.

You remember then to pace yourself. You both have time.

Moving your hands to his face, you start to inspect him. “Shit, you’re burning up, Leon.”

“Mhm, just—agh—just my love for you.” Another cramp rolls through him, but he manages to still offer a smile. For you.

“I think that might be the disease talking,” you tease before pressing your mouth to his.

Leon immediately whines. Upright on his knees, he leans over you, hands sliding up your bare arms, over your shoulders and settling on the junction of your jaw. He pushes forward with the kiss, nearly knocking you backward.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He’s sheepish now, all rosy-cheeked and doe-eyed, much like how he was when you first met some years ago. You smile into the kiss, keeping still while he chases your lips.

He’s incessant with it. He’s all tongue and teeth, already panting into you. You let him have his way, until he breaks free and starts to mouth at your pulse.

“Leon,” you sigh. “Leon, stop.”

With a firm hand to his chest, you try to hold him still, to get him to look at you. His bruised lips are wet—spit-covered and plump. He blinks quickly at you, like the refocusing of a camera lens.

“It’s not about me, Leon. This is about you. About making you feel good.”

You sit up to meet him, carding your fingers through his hair. With the new angle, you start your assault on his neck. You don’t really kiss him—moreso just drag your lips against the thick cords of his neck. When you reach the spot just below his ear, he huffs and nearly sinks back to the ground. Ever the observant one, you choose to suck at the skin there.

“Baby—“

His hands—erratic and hot-to-the-touch—grab onto whatever they can. Your shoulders, your waist. It’s as if he can’t makeup his mind. It’s only when you slightly stumble into his lap, when he grabs onto the beltloop of your pants to stabilize you both, does he finally settle. With one hand curving around the meat of your hip, another reaches up beneath the loose fabric of your shirt, until he’s lifting your breast out of the cup of your bra and palming it.

He’s spurred on by your sighs. The sound, which makes his cock twitch, has him further kneading the flesh and kissing the top of your head. Your mouth moves down to his collarbone, exploring, tasting, and learning every inch of his skin.

“Fuck, —.” His breath is hot on your scalp. “Shit, you’re—fuck—you’re something.”

You take the chance then to start working away at his clothes. Nimble fingers make quick work of his shirt, untucking it from his pants and lifting it up and over his head.

Gently, you rake your nails across his skin. You just can’t help but touch him. Everything from the swell of his shoulders and biceps, to the soft lines of muscle along his lower abdomen.

As you move lower, Leon’s grip on your body tightens.

Against your lower stomach, you feel the hard press of his bulge—over and over again. He holds you in place while he searches for friction. Into your shoulder, he groans.

“Fuck, baby. Shit, I’m sorry. I-I needa—“

Climbing onto his lap, you grab his waist and push his hips into yours. “‘S okay. It’s okay, honey, just let go.”

Almost immediately, Leon comes. The whole thing is over quickly, with hardly any recovery time on his part—an effect, you assume, of the ‘fever’.

He stays close to you; grinding and squeezing, panting into the side of your face. “Please, —.”

You lean back as much as Leon’s frenzied hands will let you, until you’re able to snake your hands down to his belt. Once the buckle is undone, you’re tugging down the zipper. Leon lifts his hips for you as you remove his pants and the stained fabric of his boxers. “Leon,” you kiss him again. “Lay down for me, honey.”

He does as you ask—almost embarrassingly fast.

Shuffling down his body, you come face-to-face with his cock. He’s so very hard, leaking and flushed an angry red.

Sitting comfortably on his thighs, you roll your shoulders back and find Leon’s eyes. Instinctively, you reach to slick his hair back off of his forehead. You want to see all of him. Selfishly, you need to see him fall apart. Leon takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together and mouthing at your knuckles.

“You’re sure about this?”

Leon nods quickly. “Need you. How-however you want, please, just, fuck, please.”

With your other free hand, you stroke his hip—at the indent that runs along his pelvis and down to the tuft of hair trailing to his base.

That’s how you start with him. Experimental.

It doesn’t take long for Leon to start bucking up into your closed fist. You spit, and with a slow, purposeful pump, spread your saliva all over his cock. One particular tug has his head falling back to the floor. The valley of his chest on full display, falling quickly as you continue to work him.

Leon comes again with a low whine. The sound has your head spinning, and slick pooling between your thighs.

While Leon comes to, you quickly discard of whatever clothes you had left on, chucking them to the corner across the room.

“You’re so beautiful,” Leon says wistfully.

Despite having just jerked him off, his words are what turn you shy. Averting your gaze, you focus on lowering yourself back into his lap.

“I mean it.” Leon sits up, hands snaking behind your back. He pulls you to him and mouths at your chest. “You’re gorgeous.”

In a moment of clarity, you grow curious, and press the back of your hand to his forehead.

“You’re still super hot, baby.”

Leon bites at the side of your breast. “I’m glad you think so.”

Your groan isn’t the sexy kind. “That’s not what I meant.”

Between your breasts, Leon looks up at you. “I know. Think I have an idea about what could help though.”

You kiss him deeply. With one hand you tug on his hair, exposing more of himself to you, and with the other you take a hold of his cock and start to drag it between your folds.

Leon whimpers—fucking whimpers—and ducks his head to look down to where your bodies meet.

He steadies himself as he lines up with your entrance. You hold your breath as his head catches against your walls, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside you.

Leon shakes beneath you. Knowing, but breathless, you simply give him a nod before you start to move.

With your knees to the floor, bracketing his hips, and his already-convulsing body, you slowly lift your hips, up and forward, then all the way back down until his pelvis is flush against yours.

Your hips roll, over and over, testing the waters—the speed, the angle—until finally, with your back slightly arched, you feel him notch deliciously against the spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

This time you’re the one panting. Breaths that only become more ragged as you chase the feeling.

At that point, Leon was practically apart of you. Combined sweat glued you to each other; the firm grip of his hands nothing more than an aid for your hips, and a lifeline for him.

A tangible, tactile reminder that you weren’t a hallucination. You were very much real, and you were very much there.

There with him, making the prettiest sounds he’s ever fucking heard.

Leon tried to speak—he wanted to. He needed to tell you again just how beautiful you were. How pretty your pussy was, how much he appreciated you, loved you, how he was convinced you were made for him.

But he couldn’t.

The disease had already made his mind a little fuzzy, but you had completely melted it to nothing. All that existed was the feeling of you.

Wrapping both arms around your waist, Leon continued to mouth at your chest. He felt his hips start to move on their own—a little absently, mind you—and you reacted instantly.

You let out a cry, and held on tighter to the broad expanse of Leon’s shoulders. Taking the opportunity, he started to fuck up into you with short, rapid thrusts.

“You feel so-fuck. You’re so good for me. So, so good for me.”

The sound of his thighs meeting your ass, your gasps and his moans, had consumed all of the air in that little cabin.

You were starting to lose control—both of you were—as the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. No longer were you focused on maintaining a rhythm. As your legs began to give out, Leon sat you down onto him as far as he could, before lying back down. With you caged to his chest, he planted his feet and began to pistol into you.

“Umphf! Leo-oh, fuck.”

Your jaw had fallen slack against his shoulder, eyes glazing over. Your heart hammered in time with the weeping throb of his cock.

Leon held his open-mouth to the side of your face. “Need you to come for me, baby. Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Please. Please, need to feel you.”

Each plea of his was accentuated with a breathy whine to the shell of your ear—a promise only for you.

That alone was enough to send you over the edge.

The coil had snapped, leaving you to shudder helplessly against him. With your senses completely shot, you weren’t sure when exactly Leon announced his third and final orgasm of the night.

You only knew it happened really when the space between your hips grew wonderfully warm. Leon had slowed to a stop, too—completely spent, and heaving.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as the inky veins along his cheek slowly began to lighten. Some of them even had completely disappeared.

You knew deep down he wasn’t cured for good—that was still another bridge you’d have to cross.

Someday, but not right now.

Knight! Leon who has sworn to protect his princess, you, from any danger that might come your way.

Not knowing that his princess is the danger.

"My-My lady, we'll be-haaa, c-caught" he stammered, whimpering so sweetly into the side of your neck as his hips tilted up towards your hand as you moved your fingers under his armor plate.

"But you're just so handsome in your armor Leon," you said with a small pout to your lips, "you'll really deny me the pleasure of touching you?".

"N-No princess I won't" he said quickly, his cheeks burning as he restrained himself from sucking a bruise up on your skin. "Please?".

He felt shameless as he pressed up into your hand, skin so soft against his leaking cock that he had to swallow an embarrassingly pitched moan.

He melted further against you as you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear, the feather like kisses along its ridge. The mixed sensation of sweet kisses and your delicate hand jerking his cock beneath his clothes had him crumbling, whimpering hotly against your throat as his hips chased your fist like a dog.

You brushed the hair back that had fallen in his face, his eyes shut tight and hiding the baby blue underneath as he panted and twitched under your grasp.

"You're so pretty like this puppy" you whsipered to him, his cheeks instantly flaring a deeper pink as his dick twitched, "now be good boy and cum for me".

“What?” you hiccup.

“You’re shivering.”

As if to prove his point, his hands—calloused and strong from years of use—dance along your sides. They move from the dip of your hips to where your breasts bulge at their sides.

Sighing, you say, “Well, when you do that…” and bury your face into the mattress.

Leon laughs and your body absorbs it like it’s your own. As if your bones are conductors, the sound sends an addictive jolt to the pulsing organ in your chest and between your thighs.

“We don’t have to do this, you know, if you’re too nervous.”

You’re quick to shake your head and even quicker to arch back into him. A little absently, you think then about how in this position, you two slot perfectly together—like you were made to fit.

“Want to,” you add weakly. “Wanna do this with you, Lee. Please.” For good measure (as if your words in all their breathy, whiney nature weren’t indicative of how you felt), you start to roll your hips back. Leon groans loud.

His flushed, hot tip rests just inches away from your weepy hole. He watches you flutter on nothing; as the slick pooling there catches the silvery moonlight strobing through the bedroom window. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. God-sent and lovely and all his. To take, to have, to hold…

Your hips move again, slowly, dangerously, and Leon stops you with a hard hand to the dip of your spine, making you squeak. “Baby…” he warns.

“Leon, please. Please, honey…wan’ you so much.”

Leon inhales, all sharp and shaky. “Alright…yeah, yeah, okay. …Whatever you want, baby.” He kisses your spine once more as he crawls up your body.

With his thighs bracketing yours, he pushes down on you with the hard line of his abs. His pecs—all swollen and round and slick with sweat—cement to your shoulders. The sheer mass of his body feels as if it’s swallowing you whole. You preen at the contact, letting out a mewl so pathetic you even surprise yourself.

Gradually then, with the kind of control and calculation he exhibits at work, Leon pushes his thick head through your gummy walls. He’s so painfully hard that it takes everything in him to go slow. And, by the time his pelvis is flush to your ass, he already feels spent.

The crook of Leon’s chin hooks around your shoulder ensuring his face is firmly pressed against yours. He pants heavy in your ear, and out of the corner of your vision, you see his face flush a berry-red.

“Fuck, baby. You—shit—y’feel—”

“Leon…‘m ready.”

The man nods, mainly to himself, before pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. Slowly—just as slowly as he entered you—his hips draw back. The languid drag of him has you grasping aimlessly at the sheets; the thick vein that curves around his even thicker cock is relentless in catching the ridges of your walls. In this position, you’re able to feel all of him. “God, Leon...”

Of course, sex with Leon has always been something else entirely…but this? There aren’t enough words in any language to describe the way you’re feeling right now.

“I know, baby, I know. I need you just as bad,” Leon purrs. You just nod along, jaw falling as Leon slowly slides back into you. He braces himself then, arching and tightly curving over your figure.

“How do you want it, baby? Like this?” His hips speed up then, shallow thrusts that have your thighs immediately stinging with the friction of being stationary. Still, you groan, eyes rolling back into your head as he keeps pace. After a while, Leon shifts over top of you again. “Or do you want it like this?” With steady hips, he suddenly slams forward, the action practically punching your soul straight out of your body. You cry when his head shoves directly into that spongey notch deep inside you.

Desperately, you reach for the hand braced by your head. Leon locks your fingers with his before bringing them to the soft skin of his mouth.

“Hm, you like that?” You try to crane your head so that you can meet your boyfriend’s eyes, but Leon ‘tsks’ at you. You aren’t at all ashamed by the attempt or his response, though. It’s done without any sort of malice. Nothing more than light teasing, born from a place of reverence and pure, unadulterated love. “Use your words, baby. Gotta know you want it. Need to know I’m making you feel good, y’know?”

“Shit, Le—yes. Yes, like that. Fuck—“ you manage to eventually get the words out, only for another thrust to leave you blubbering.

Leon lets go of your hand, but only for the briefest of moments, before his fingers come up under your jaw. He cradles your face as he finds your mouth, a curtain of his blonde hair hanging low over your eyes. He licks at your own tongue, at the corners of your lips, behind your teeth… Any and every inch of space he can reach becomes learned in a matter of seconds (as if he already wasn’t so intimately accustomed).

Because of the pillow beneath your hips, Leon’s able to fix his grip on you every once in a while—whether the pads of his fingers are digging into the tempting plains of your waist, or the fat of your shuddering thighs. Each thrust has his pubic bone bouncing against your ass in an even, but incredibly hard-hitting pace.

Leon nips at your earlobe, gently tugging on the loose flesh so as strengthen (or perhaps ground) his dwindling resolve. In little time, he feels the effects of his impending orgasm: his balls tightening against your puffy clit, dick swelling deep within your walls…

You’re just so warm, and so wet, and so…so good to him, so good for him, Leon can’t resist the flurry of emotions threatening to escape him. “Fuck, I love you. Love you so much, baby. Always so tight for me. Shit. Y’love sucking me in like this, don’t you?”

“Leon…” is all you can manage to say. It’s the only warning your hazy brain can conjure up; the only thing on the tip of your tongue other than another strangled whimper.

Leon understands though. He always does.

You’re close. Really, really close. The sound of your squelching slick as he rifles through you over and over; the way your spine arches and your feet start to helplessly kick out from beneath you—it’s all the confirmation he needs.

The muscles in his arms have begun to strain, a sharp tightness that blooms from his wrist all the way up to his shoulders. He takes the opportunity then to collapse onto you, carefully accommodating some of his weight with his knees so as not to smother you entirely (though he would without question if that’s what you asked).

The sounds of your whines pitch higher and higher with every snap of his hips. You’re shaking again, though this time it’s for sure an unconscious act. In relieving his arms from the awkward angle, Leon’s able to wrap an arm around your head, and you nearly choke on spit when you realize what he’s doing.

Leon’s arm—meaty bicep, veins, and all—rests safely against your collarbone, holding you snug to his chest. His cheek is pressed to yours again, so close that you’re convinced you’re practically becoming one (as if you haven’t already…). You’re both two halves of one heart stitched together; all haphazard, but terrifyingly real.

“I need you to come for me. Can you do that, baby? Can you make a mess for me?” His voice is a beautiful ragged sound—one that in any other situation would have you pushing your hips back to meet his. But not this time. Leon has you locked in place, pliant and safe as the knot of your orgasm pulls tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

So with that, you opt to just nod into Leon’s arm, albeit rather weakly. Suddenly, you feel a different kind of pressure come up between your hips.

Leon somehow managed to sneak his free hand down to your cunt, calculated fingers once again toying with your clit in easy circles. And that alone that has you coming with a sharp and stuttered gasp. While you shudder and twitch, Leon continues his ministrations; humping and grinding into you while his own release crests.

He grunts and huffs as he spills into you, as if his fucked-out body can’t decide on which sound it wants or needs to make. Regardless, all that really matters is that you’re holding on tight to him, whispering something about how good he makes you feel and how much you love him.

Of course, Leon has to return the sentiment tenfold. He doesn’t say it exactly like how you did (he’s never been the best with words), but as he cleans you up, petting your head and kissing everywhere the damp cloth doesn’t—from the inner curve of your knee, to your navel, to the hollow of your throat—he knows that you understand.