Evil Residents

“You hesitate before shooting.”

“You rely too much on instinct.”

“Your posture is sloppy.”

“This is your first time or what? We can’t afford another delayed reaction.”

“You write reports like a five-year-old.”

The words had piled up over months, one after another, until they buried themselves somewhere deep beneath your memory. The funny thing is you didn’t even remember half of the things he said anymore. Because half the time, Leon would say them so casually. Like he wasn’t ruining your entire day with a single sentence. Like it was normal for him to stand behind you during training and quietly point out every flaw he could find. His voice low and sharp near your ear while your shoulders slowly stiffened under his attention.

You hated yourself too how quickly you started noticing yourself afterward too.

Your posture during missions.

Checking your reports three or four more times before submitting them unless you were too exhausted not to.

Things you had never thought twice about before suddenly became impossible to ignore once Leon pointed them out.

And God forbid, you hated that report comment the most. Because you still remembered the way he barely looked up from the papers in his hands when he said it.

“You write reports like a five-year-old.”

Meanwhile, you had stared at him for a second too long, embarrassment burning hot beneath your skin while he casually moved on with his day like he hadn’t just cracked something fragile inside your chest.

Thinking about it now made your stomach twist painfully, and you knew at this point, HR should probably be involved.

Not that your friends hadn’t already told you that before. Claire Redfield and even Sherry Birkin had brought it up more than once, saying it didn’t matter if Leon was technically your senior, even if only by two years. There had to be some kind of rule against whatever the hell this was.

Maybe they were right. Deep down, you knew they were.

But the most stupid part of you? It still didn’t want Leon getting into trouble because of you. Which honestly just made this whole thing even more pathetic.

Sucks to be you, and you knew that.

Fuck it all, if only you never met Leon, you think about it more often than you can admit, because you hated yourself for adoring, his stupidly pretty face.You hated how his eyelashes rested on his eyes, You hated how unfairly attractive he looked leaning against desks with rolled-up sleeves, hated the way his stubble made him look older, hated how his blue eyes looked cold one second and devastatingly deep the next.

And worst of all?

You also hated yourself based on how much you noticed little things about him.

The way his throat bobbed slightly when he got nervous during briefings. The way he tapped his pen repeatedly whenever he got stuck writing reports. The way his jaw tightened before missions.

You even remembered that one mission where a zombie nearly attacked you from behind and Leon had shot it directly in the head before it could touch you. And then kept shooting it long after it was dead until Chris physically stopped him.

You never understood that.

You didn’t understand him.

And you don't even know if you ever wanted to anymore.

Because moments like that almost made you think maybe—maybe—there was something else beneath all his cruelty. But then Leon would open his mouth again and ruin it instantly.

Typical.

Now that you look back on it, you feel a jolt of unnamed emotions run through you. But when you did get accepted into the DSO, it honestly surprised you, because you never expected it.

You still remembered standing outside the headquarters building on your first day, fingers nervously adjusting the ID card hanging around your neck while your stomach twisted itself into knots. The entire place felt bigger than you imagined it would be. Agents moving through hallways with clipped conversations and tired expressions like something straight out of the reports you used to read obsessively at night.

And somehow—

You are here now.

And the memory still felt unreal.

Everyone welcomed you warmly too. A few friendly introductions, easy smiles, Claire offering to show you around almost immediately while Sherry asked if you were nervous in that soft, understanding way of hers.

And you fit in surprisingly fast.

Everyone made space for you.

Everyone except Leon S. Kennedy.

That asshole.

God, it almost felt embarrassing thinking about it now, but before joining the DSO, you genuinely admired him. Everyone did. Leon is practically a legend inside the agency. The man who survived the impossible "raccoon city” incident. The man people trusted blindly in the field.

You remembered staying awake late one night before your acceptance, reading mission files about him with wide eyes and a stupid amount of admiration sitting heavy in your chest. At one point, half-joking and half-serious, you had even written an entire letter about how impressive you thought he was.

You never gave it to him obviously.

Thank God for that.

But the folded paper still sat forgotten somewhere at the bottom of your purse now, buried beneath receipts and old pens like evidence of a deeply humiliating phase of your life.

Because the moment you actually met Leon?

Everything crashed and burned instantly.

You still remembered it like yesterday. When Claire introduced you to Leon with a smile on her face; one hand resting lightly on your shoulder while you stood there trying not to look visibly nervous.

And Leon?

Leon had looked up from the report in his hands slowly.

Blue eyes dragging over you once. Then his expression shifted almost immediately. His brows pulled together slightly, mouth tightening like your existence alone had already exhausted him somehow.

Like he took one look at you and immediately decided you were going to become a problem.

The silence afterward had lasted maybe two seconds.

But it felt painfully longer.

Then?

“Well,” Leon had said flatly. “Do you want me to celebrate?”

Just that.

Not nice to meet you.

Not welcome aboard.

Just one single sentence delivered in a tone that somehow made you feel like you interrupted his entire life by standing there.

And honestly?

Things only got worse from there.

Because from that moment onward, it began.

The constant criticism.

The endless nitpicking.

But shame on you; that you also loved the constant tension, the bickering, him giving attention, him saying almost absolutely insane things and acting it didn't hurt you, Was it pathetic?

Absolutely! But did you want him to stop?

Absolutely the fuck not.

Typical. Fucking typical.

You knew you were completely fucked in the head the moment you realized there was a part of you that actually felt attracted to Leon. At that point, you were pretty sure you had developed some form of Stockholm syndrome.

But in your defense, that was also the thing about Leon S. Kennedy.

He could do the most outrageous shit imaginable and somehow everyone would still forgive him afterward. And honestly? You knew exactly why. Because his face card genuinely carried him through life.

It should have been illegal, really.

A man could act like a complete asshole for five straight months, and people would still look at him like he personally hung the stars in the sky. But the worst part was that beneath all of it, you could see how caring Leon actually was.

Just not toward you.

Nope.

You saw it in the way he checked on Claire after difficult missions without making it obvious. The way he stayed behind helping newer agents understand reports even after exhausting days. The way he silently brought coffee to Chris during long nights at headquarters because he knew the man would forget to eat otherwise.

Everyone got that version of Leon.

Everyone except you.

Maybe sometimes you did too, but would that overshadow what the hell Leon was putting you through? No.

But swear to God, didn’t that sting a little more than it should have? It did. Even if you don't admit it aloud.

Some people said Leon's attitude happened because of Ada Wong. His “almost.” The woman who somehow managed to haunt rooms she wasn’t even standing in. You didn’t know why she made you feel so strangely inferior either.

Maybe because even after all this time, Leon still carried parts of her around with him like old wounds hidden beneath expensive clothes and tired eyes, and it burnt your chest in ways you didn't know was possible.

People also said he became colder after her, and maybe that was true.

But then how the hell could he still act perfectly normal with everyone else?

That was the question that kept digging beneath your skin.

The one nobody ever seemed able to answer, and why did Leon only act like this with you?

But still, you tried your best. Mostly by dealing with his annoying ass day after day and telling yourself you could handle this. But sometimes, somewhere beneath all the arguments and irritation, it genuinely hurt more than you liked admitting.

And you still felt something for him?

Absolutely yes.

But did you actually want him?

Not in a million fucking years.

You would rather hang yourself from a ceiling fan than willingly be with that asshole of a man.

“You’ve been staring at this report for like ten minutes,” Leon’s voice echoed from behind you, and suddenly every thought vanished from your mind.

You hadn’t even heard him walk over, because you were too focused on yourself and as Leon leaned down slightly beside you, close enough that his breath brushed against your hair and the side of your neck.

Warm and familiar feelings made your stomach feel those weird tingly things, and now your body reacted before your brain could stop it.

Slowly, you looked up from your screen while Leon leaned over your shoulder. It should not have affected you. But unfortunately for you, it very much did. His cologne mixed with gunpowder and coffee surrounded you immediately, annoyingly familiar now after months of working together. You sighed quietly for what felt like the hundredth time that day, heat creeping embarrassingly beneath your skin. “I was focused—” you started, though you already knew it would be useless arguing with Leon.

“Yet,” Leon continued calmly cutting you off mid sentence, “there are still two commas missing in your report.”

“Page three,” he continued. “Second paragraph.”

You stared blankly at the screen. “You’re kidding.”

“Redo it,” Leon said, straightening himself, completely unaffected.

“For fuck’s sake,” you snapped, spinning slightly in your chair to glare at him. “They’re just two commas.”

From somewhere nearby, one of the agents whispered quietly: “Oh, he’s back at it again.”

But instead of acknowledging anyone else, his eyes stayed on you annoyingly calm. “If you can’t handle basic punctuation—”

“Oh my God,” you interrupted sharply, because you already knew what he was gonna say to you, “do you hear yourself when you speak?”

“Yes.”

“That’s horrifying.” you say rolling your eyes.

A few people nearby snorted quietly. Leon’s jaw tightened just slightly, and because unfortunately you noticed everything about him, you caught it immediately. “You’re defensive,” he said flatly.

“And you’re insufferable.”

“You missed the commas.”

“Oh God, it’s not the end of the fucking world.”

Leon smirked cruelly at that, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t know that,” he replied in the most serious tone possible, which somehow only made it worse.

At his comment you stared at him in disbelief. “You are the human embodiment of a migraine.”

“And yet,” Leon murmured, leaning down slightly again, “you’re still arguing with me instead of fixing the report.”

Your heart betrayed you immediately at the closeness. Traitor. You truly despised him too, at least that’s what you told yourself because even if there was a little bit of attraction, why did your pulse always react like this whenever he looked at you too long?

You shook your head with a light scoff and turned your eyes away from him.

At your reaction he just bobs his head and straightens himself again, stepping back from you.

You wanted to say to him, fuck off. Instead, you gritted your teeth so hard your jaw hurt and dragged the attention back to your screen. “Fine,” you muttered bitterly. “I’ll fix the life-threatening commas.”

Leon crossed his arms over his chest. “They are important.”

You looked up at him again, too slowly, your expression turning almost too serious for a second. “You know what else is important?”

“What?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

“Shutting up.”

A few people nearby made quiet sounds, half coughs, half laughs, but Leon didn’t react to them at all. His attention stayed locked on you, annoyingly calm, like your words had bounced right off him instead of landing.

Instead of getting offended, he simply tilted his head slightly. “So if you’re done arguing,” he said flatly, “fix the report.”

That made your eye twitch.

And instead of saying anything more, you spun in your chair, and turned your back toward him and your eyes to your laptop, and began stabbing at the keyboard with unnecessary force.

Behind you, Leon stayed standing there for another second too long.And unfortunately, your body reacted every single time his attention settled fully on you.It was deeply humiliating. Finally, he walked away.

The tension in the room instantly loosened after he left. One of the analysts leaned over their desk dramatically. “You two are actually insane.”

You didn’t even look up from your laptop, rereading every sentence on it, and replied softly, “He started it.”

“He literally just corrected the punctuation,” she said, confused.

You finally looked up from your laptop slowly, as if the weight of the statement itself required effort to process. Your fingers paused over the keyboard, hovering there like you were deciding whether to continue your war with the document or the entire universe. “You know, it is NOT about the fucking punctuation,” you said a little too loud, but a moment later you mouthed a quick apology. She just nodded her head quietly and went back to her work while you sighed heavily under your breath.

That earned a laugh from someone somewhere across the room. You didn't react to that, instead you focused back on the report.

But unfortunately for you, after that the rest of the morning only got worse. Because after Leon’s little comma incident, you became painfully aware of him again.

The sound of his voice during briefings. The way he leaned back in chairs with one arm slung lazily over the arm rest of the chair. The stupid vein in his forearm when he held files too tightly.

You knew you needed psychiatric help.

By lunch break, your irritation had evolved into exhaustion. You sat alone at your desk, pretending to work while the rest of headquarters slowly filtered toward the cafeteria downstairs. Claire Redfield had asked you to come with them, but you were too drained to even consider it, so you refused.

Instead, you finally let your head drop onto the desk for a moment of relief, but exhaustion took over you and instead you rested your eyes.

Because truthfully?

You weren’t hungry. Stress had already tied your stomach into knots hours ago.

A few minutes later, a wrapped sandwich landed beside your keyboard.

You blinked slowly, rubbing your eyes, then looked up, but as your eyes came in focus; nobody was there. “…Huh.” you say groggily.

Slowly, you picked the sandwich up suspiciously. It was turkey and cheese.

Your personal favourite; and the exact kind you usually ordered from the cafeteria downstairs.

Your brows furrowed immediately. “Oh,” you murmured softly. “Claire probably left this.”

But was it true? You didnt know.

When you walked downstairs later into the cafeteria toward Claire, and Sherry, something immediately felt off.

But you could not put your finger on it. So instead you gripped the sandwich that was still in your hand a little tighter before walking towards their seat.

“Thank you for this,” you said finally your eyes resting on claire, your voice quieter, as you slowly removed the plastic that was covering the sandwich.

The rustle of it filled the small silence of the room, as you finally reached their table and slowly settled on the chair across them.

You hesitated only for a second before taking a bite, more out of exhaustion than anything else. The taste of it burst on your tongue it was quite the mixture of spices and salt with little ketchup, and it grounded you in a way you didn’t expect after the long, draining morning.

“I didn’t give you that,” Claire said, finally looking up at you sounding confused.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes slowly shifting from the sandwich in your hands to hers. “maybe …then Carlos?”

From beside her, Sherry Birkin suddenly looked way too amused. “Oh my God.”

Your stomach dropped instantly at her reaction. “What?”

It was bad.. bad, bad wasnt it? You think to yourself.

Sherry was grinning like she had just delivered the most satisfying piece of information in existence. “That was Leon.”

You choked on your sandwich, like the bite in your mouth nearly went the wrong way as you coughed violently into your sleeve while Claire Redfield burst into uncontrollable laughter beside you.

“No,” you wheezed, shaking your head. “Absolutely not.”

Sherry was already leaning forward, eyes sparkling with amusement. “No, because he asked us if you had eaten, and when we said no, he just nodded and left.”

Your eyes widened instantly. “Absolutely not,” you repeated, louder this time, as you finally stopped choking on the sandwich.

Claire leaned in dramatically. “I understand the denial. We were shocked too.”

“But it’s not possible,” you snapped, pointing at her and glancing down at the sandwich in your hand as you spoke. “He insulted my punctuation thirty minutes earlier!”

“And then fed you,” Claire added casually.

You froze. “That doesn’t mean anything,” you said quickly. “He feeds Chris too. He feeds everyone.” And then you dropped your head directly onto the cafeteria table in quite exhaustion.

Claire Redfield laughed harder, clearly amused. “Is that so?"

“You guys are terrible,” you muttered, as playful frustration leaks into your voice. “Because even if he did it, it doesn’t change the fact he’s made my life a living hell,” you said, slowly before sighing; and pushing yourself up from the table; leaving the last bite of your sandwich there and finally turning away from them, because what they said really…stayed.

You shook your head slightly as if shaking off all the thoughts that included him, and as you slowly made your way back to your cubicle, settling in front of your laptop again, your brain refused to cooperate.

It didn’t matter how many reports you opened or how many lines you tried to read, your thoughts kept circling back to the same thing, over and over again, like a broken record you couldn’t shut off.

You felt yourself getting hot all over, anger, embarrassment, and something far more complicated twisting together in your chest until you could barely sort it out.

Leon noticed you didn’t eat.

Leon remembered your order.

Leon bought you food without saying anything.

That stupid sandwich had completely ruined your last two brain cells.

And somehow, that action by him felt genuinely warm. For a moment, you just wanted to thank him. You knew he didn’t deserve that. But maybe a stupid part of you wanted to prove yourself wrong, that maybe you could start anew? The thought was crazy yet it kept turning in your mind like a loop you forgot to close.

By evening, the thoughts about it had become unbearable enough that you finally decided to approach him near his office room, and actually thank him.

Leon stood beside his table in his office flipping through paperwork quietly; and slowly as he noticed your presence his gaze travelled upwards toward you; as you stopped near the doorframe awkwardly.

For a moment you just stared at him looking into his deep blue eyes, that spoke hundreds of emotions and you hated those unfamiliar emotions ruining you. “…What?” he asked.

You shifted slightly where you stood, then slowly forced the words out. “uh… leon..? Thank you for the sandwich.”

For one horrifying second, Leon just stared intensely at you, and clenched his jaw tightly as if he was going to confess something terrible, but instead he just lifted his one brow. “…You needed someone to remind you to eat?”

Your face fell instantly.

Oh.

Oh you idiot.

Of course.

Of course he’d turn it into this.

Leon closed the file casually. “You’re an agent,” he continued calmly. “Skipping meals because you’re upset over something trivial is quite childish.”

Heat rushed violently to your face, not from attraction or feelings or anything else but because of–

Humiliation.

Luckily there wasn't anyone around, so you were spared of any pity glances, or fake sympathies, and now; as you stood across him trying to be kind--

There he was again.

The Leon that made your chest ache.

The Leon who is kind to everyone but you.

You laughed once bitterly.

“Right,” you muttered. “Forgot who I was talking to.”

Leon frowned slightly, and opened his mouth to say something instead he just closed it.

But your embarrassment had already curdled into anger. Your fingers curled tightly on your palms as you stepped back from the door, your voice dropping even lower, and you knew you were going to say something reckless, and maybe even past the point of caution. And before you could think better of it the words slips out of your tongue completely unfiltered, “And next time, shove that sandwich in your fucking ass.” the words came out even harsher, and they were the kind that could get you, removed from the headquarters.

But at that moment, you didn’t care.

“Hey—” Leon started, his jaw tightening as he took a step forward. “Watch how—”

You turned immediately before he could even come close to you, and you were already walking away.

As you moved toward your space, your eyes began to well up with hushed tears, your vision blurring at the edges. You blinked quickly, forcing them back down, refusing to let them fall. You wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t.

Not here. Not because of him.

And yet, that was the cruelest part that sat silently in your chest reminding you, that you were stupid; now; all you could think, over and over was that, like a wound you kept reopening, because how in hell you could still be such a fool for this asshole.

Because maybe now, you didn’t even want a single part of yourself left to be touched—or tainted—by the name of an asshole called Leon.

Your chest tightens with ugly emotions as you exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to shut it all down every thought, every flicker of hesitation that still tries to reach him.

By the time you reach your space you were furious at yourself, “Fucking damn him,” you muttered under your breath, the words slipping out low and bitter as you grabbed your bag off the edge of the desk.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, for a second too long before you finally turned away from your space and quickly stride toward the exit of the headquarters.

Yet the feeling you were trying to bury still clung to you, like an invisible weight around your chest, refusing to let go even as you walked.

He didn't speak though, instead his breath came in ragged, hot bursts against your neck, and before you could even giggle at him, or ask him something, he hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and the room around you spinned like a fidget spinner, and it took you a whole minute to gather your thoughts, and consciousness.

Because tonight something was about to change, or maybe already has? And because being five years married to leon you have never seen him like this, this feral, this needy, this desperate: and now in the middle of the night, when you just came back from the DSO post success party, while the heavy scent of expensive bourbon and light citrine perfume clung to your skin, you wanted to say something because he had been way too touchy there, more than he usually was: but instead he just grabbed you inside your apartment, and kicked the door shut way too hard, and the wood slammed instantly with a violence that echoed through the dark hallway, while pulling you closer against him, making you shiver at the suddenness of his action.

"Leon! Put me down!" you finally shrieked, though your voice lacked any strong conviction for him to let you down so you hit him playfully from your fists on his back, while you shook your legs relentlessly, yet he didn't let go, and just laughed at your fail attempts.

"Not a chance," he breathed, his voice was a low, grave rumble that vibrated through your entire body and it simply made you whimper which came out as a soft gasp, and you felt your core throb in heat.

he just chuckled at your reaction, but didn't give you another moment to speak instead he just marched swiftly and took three steps to the bedroom and as soon as you entered the darkened room he threw you on the bed, and you hit the mattress with a soft thud, before bouncing a little on it.

When he came to his lower body, his impatience was already gnawing at him and he tore at his belt, the leather instantly snapped free, then he shoved his pants down along with his briefs in one desperate motion.

He didn't wait after that if anything, whatever closest thing to the patience he had left inside him, was replaced by; something primal and urgent.

Soon, seeing you there with a low groan his hands found the fabric of his shirt and then he ripped it from his torso with a violence that made the air crack, the buttons scattering across the hardwood like gunshots. Then he throwed the ripped fabric mindlessly on the floor and it pools onto the wooden floor, even though as he does it, there was no moment of him coming closer to you, and his eyes? Fuck They never left yours instead they stayed on yours, as if promising you the undeniable pleasure through his orbs itself, and you felt the heat rushing south inside you.

God damn it.

They crumpled at his ankles, and he kicked them free with the haste of a desperate man, leaving them in a heap, then he stepped out of them before closing the distance between you and him in a single stride.

his balls hung low, heavy and full, while the head of his cock turned the deep shade of purple, as if holding the blood back of entire body, and it was already erect, while the veins ran along his member as if almost ready to be put in, though he just gave it a stroke with a shuddering breath, "Take off your dress, my wife." His words came out calm, almost soft, but there was no mistaking the command beneath them. It was an order wrapped in velvet, then he caressed his lower abs, “I am waiting, my wife.”

"Fuck, Leon," you breathed out breathlessly, your chest rising an falling as unsaid emotions took over you, the words trembled as they travelled out of your lips and your voice reduced to a mewl. "What's gotten into you today?" You cried out, in need, from the sheer intensity of his gaze, the unfamiliar edge to him he had today that had your heart hammering against your ribs.

You straightened your spine with a sly smile, your fingers finding the hem of your fabric, and you pulled the dress over your head in one fluid movement. Without thinking, you threw it toward him with a light giggle. “Like this?” you asked.

He smirked, and a low guttural moan slipped past him and he caught it mid-air, his reflexes sharp and predatory. For a moment he held it, and then, deliberately, he brought the fabric to his nose and inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as he drank in your scent from the cloth. A low moan escaped him. Then he tossed it aside, letting it pool on the floor like something worthless.

He didn't answer, instead his throat worked as he swallowed hard, his jaw tight with restraint that was clearly fraying. "Your thong," he said instead, ignoring your question, his voice had that rough edge in it. "Remove it."

You obeyed, instantly your fingers hooked into the waistband, sliding the silky lace down your thighs, until your cunt was exposed to the cool air of the room, and your wetness leaked from the flesh between your thighs.

You slowly smile, biting your lip while slowly removing them past your legs, and your eyes stay locked on him, and feel his blown wide pupils with desire locked on you, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and as soon as the fabric leaves your legs, you extend your hand and deliberately offered it to him.

He took it from your fingers, with a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth and without breaking eye contact, he brought the silk to his face and buried his nose into it instantly, inhaling the scent of your wetness with a hunger that made your knees weak.

Then he stepped closer, too close that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. You opened your mouth to say something, but he just shook his head and pushed the damp fabric past your lips, stuffing it into your own mouth, while gently slapping your cheeks, “good girl, keep it in”.

You gasped around the intrusion of the dirty fabric, and your eyes widened in shock, but you didn't spit it out, more so you could not.

After all, you were seeing this side of your man, for the first time in years, and you just wanted to embrace it completely.

and as the fabric settled on your tongue the taste hit you immediately, of your own arousal, musky and undeniably, yours but mixed with desire of the need to be taken, and all of it flooded your tongue, and for a moment you let the flavour of it burst on your tongue, and a low gasp ringed in your chest, like a unknown visitor.

Then your thoughts wandered again, because: fuck it was so fucking nasty, so filthy, so completely debasing, but the shock of it only sent a fresh wave of heat flooding between your legs again making your core clench with need.

Before you could fully process it, his hands seized your legs, strong and commanding, and then he dragged you across the sheets until your ass rested against the edge of the mattress, and a sudden muffled gasp tore from you, at his movement. “Mmfphh.”,

“Let me do the talking tonight, I will let you talk, when…” He trailed off then quickly gained his composure back and just smiled at you while spreading your thighs wider until they were clasped behind his back and he came closer positioning himself between your thighs, the heavy weight of his muscles and the furnace heat of his body settles over you completely like a wood log, being thrown into the fireplace, all of it rushed over your body, while you laid there, bare and needy, and your eyes drifted slightly and settled on his cock, and the tears of being his filled your eyes, you knew it was dumb to cry, to feel the need of him that much that all you could do was sob, his name tore out of you, in a muffled tone, your thoughts swirled inside your mind: but were pulled away as the rigid length of his cock pressed against your stomach, and his pecs rose and fell rapidly, while his balls stuck against your dripping entrance towards your ass.

And just like that you lay there trapped beneath him, exposed while your cunt breathed and you were filled with the taste of yourself, and remained completely at his mercy.

The room though was pitch black, illuminated only by the slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this all night," Leon cooes, a tone you usually don't hear from him, and this time he doesn't waste anymore time with gentleness, instead he grips your thighs, shoving them even wider than before, and a delicious pain runs through your calves and inner thighs until electricity jolts down your spine, giving your chest a warmth; and slowly he steps back a little before driving his throbbing cock into your core with one heavy, unrelenting thrust.

"F–f-fuck," you gasp, muffled around the silk in your mouth. Your eyes closes completely at the pressure of him inside you, your back arching off the sheets, still, you manage to speak, as slowly drool spills from your mouth soaking the fabric inside your mouth. "Youh, uh, so dehp," you slur around at the edges of your words.

"I want to be deeper-fuck–," he pants his fingers digging deeper into your thighs, leaving bruises. "I want to feel every inch of your cunt clamping down on me.”

You let out a sharp cry again, not able to speak, and your back arches involuntarily like breaking in two, and your thighs shakes under his fingers, as your walls stretch more and more to accommodate his girth inside.

"How can you still be so tight?" Leon panted, eyes closing as he moved in and out of you, lost in rhythm. And his thrusts grew frantic, his cock sliding easily through your wetness, coating his shaft, and you mumbled his name again as he circled his hips inside you, while his pelvis hits your cunt with each relentless stroke.

"I don't care about usually," he interrupted, stopping for a second, and just then you think he was done: before beginning to drive into you with a rhythmic, punishing intensity, again, "I want this, I want all of you right now."

You feel his raw cock hitting your guts, and you let out small moans, milking him until you realized — your eyes widening in shock, that you weren't using any protection.

Fuck, of all things, it felt so good you'd forgotten completely. You panted, trying to speak, "Le... le... Lee, we didn't... use pr—we us.. don't just…” your voice came out muffled but you knew he could make it out.

Darn it.

Whatever, if anything you want this, you want him, rawness of him, inside you, you wanted him, maybe you wanted his everything, his seed, his love, his b–.

No. No. You guys weren't ready. You knew that. You were busy, not ready..

Right?

Your thoughts were dispersed by the obscene rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of you, filling the silence of the room, the wet, rhythmic sound of his shaft plunging into your soaking pussy, the heavy slap of his balls against your perineum with every deep thrust.

The room had become a container of your moans when he stopped for a second — ah— you gasp, and then he pulled out of you completely, and you sobbed almost desperate and begging him wituout words to not stop.

Your legs instinctively loosened from behind, and you were about to remove the silk from your mouth, until he came close again and pushed into exactly the right spot. You felt his shaft rubbing your G-spot, and you cried out helplessly. Unable to speak his name, and after all that escaped from your body was convulsions and wetness from your core — while your thighs shakes wildly, and your eyes widens in pleasure as your head rolled to the side on the pillow.

You shook beneath him, with a loud cry and the bedframe creaked under the force of his movements. He kept rubbing your g-spot, and your thighs tightened again around him but as he leaned down a little hovering over you, his chest rubs your nipple making you shudder and his movements stops until his lips grazed your ears, his voice dropping to a desperate, raw whisper. “Let me fuck a baby into you, please," he pleaded, his pace quickening again, making you cry, "Please.” He repeated, "I want to fill you up with my cum, I want you to carry something of mine.”, "I want to see your womb swelled up with my baby”, he repeated, and his eyes softened as he shifted his weight to look in your eyes, though he was still inside you , he didnt move just stayed there waiting for your answer and finally , he guided his hands and removed the underwear that sat between your lips and then you threw it across the bed, “I want to see the milk leak from your nipples, i want to drink every drop of you”, he groaned, closing his eyes, almost desperate for you to say yes, you gasp at his comment and cough at the same time the relief of emptiness from your mouth, and finally your entire frame stops moving and you freeze a little , as you feel your heart beating frantically syncing with his, and you feel your wall spasm, around his cock, pulsing begging to be filled but you could not say anything.

because no, you took a whole stretched out second, to process his words. Because you had always been the one to say no to children, to prioritize the mission and the danger of your lives.

But what was funny was a few minutes ago you were thinking about it too, to have a baby with him.

But were you ready..? Honestly who ever is?

And tonight, it felt right, with the alcohol humming in your veins and the raw hunger in Leon's eyes, the idea didn't feel frightening. It felt like the only thing that mattered, and it's still quite weird how he read your mind, as if he was connected telepathically with you.

“Tell me baby, because if you say… no… I don't think I had be able to take that..”, he whispers, his voice coming out as gasped breath, as he cradled your face from his palm.

"Do it," you whimpered, raising your legs wrapping them tightly around his waist to pull him deeper. "Fill me, Leon. Put your seed inside me."

He lets out a guttural roar at your words, and god it was the sound of a man losing all control over you, then he accelerates his movements his thrusts becoming violent and overzealous, and you feel the friction become way too intense, as the sounds of your bodies collides together becoming a frantic percussion, and this time you don't hold back instead you guide your hands to his shoulder as he pounds into you endlessly and you kept moaning his name, while he breathe into your skin.

He keeps hitting your spot, and hitting your cervix with every heavy strike inside. And you finally feel the build-up of your orgasm, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you, and your toes curls in the air "I'm coming," you scream, your walls contracting in a violent series of spasms, and you feel his cock throb violently at the same time too, your orgasm takes over your nerves, your cunt tingling and spasming uncontrollably and your thighs, shakes and you , coo his name, or every jumbled word you could form, and finally your orgasm crashes over you, "Me too... fuck, my pretty wife I'm gonna fill your cunt, your womb, your heart, all of it, with my seed until i am imprinted inside you,” Leon groans, then he lets out a long, shuddering breath as he erupts inside you, and you feel the hot, thick jets of his seed pulsing deep against your cervix, flooding your womb, when he finally empties himself. He doesn't pull away instantly; instead he collapses onto you, his heart hammering against your ribs, while both of you remained drenched in sweat and aftershocks of your high together.

"I've got you," he whispers, kissing your temple as he slowly pulls you even closer flushed against his chest. "We've got each other, forever."

You just nod lazily and lie there in the silence, the smell of sex heavy in the air, feeling the warmth of him leaking slowly from your core onto the hole of your ass, and feeling his heartbeat run in your veins.

Then honestly you don't know when you fell asleep, entwined deeply in his arms while the world outside and the bedroom fades into the background noise.

Two weeks later, the silence of the bathroom is broken by the sound of a plastic stick hitting the counter, and your shriek, then you stare down again, at the two bold, red lines, on the pregnancy test kit and your heart skips a beat before beginning to race.

“Come home soon, I have news, baby.”

Seeing it finally you realize you aren't scared anymore. And your hand drifts to your stomach instinctively and you can almost still feel the ghost of that night — the raw hunger, the tenderness, and the unspoken promise of a new life beginning inside you.

Then suddenly a soft smile finds its way onto your lips. Then, reaching for your phone on the counter, you unlock it, and open your husband's message thread, with a giddy excitement, and you begin to type: and hit send.

"F-fuck," you purred closing your eyes; and your breath came in jagged, uneven hitches, but he doesnt stop you instead he keeps making small circles on your waist.

Your breasts lay fully exposed to him, nipples swollen and glistening with his saliva. The cool air of the car brushed against them, drawing a shiver from your skin, though, the black tint of the windows kept you hidden from the parking lot and shielding you from embarrassment. But the thrill? of exposure or getting caughting never left you. If anything it pooled like heat in your lower belly.

The car felt like a vacuum of silence, except for the rhythmic, wet popping sounds of his mouth leaving and returning to your breast.

Now as you both sat bathed in amber light breathing heavily; your eyes devouring everything you ever held dear.

For a moment you just stay there and glance down at your top that hung open, buttons popped and scattered across the seat, the fabric gaping unfastened against your flushed skin. You were seated on his lap and straddled his thighs, while your short skirt bunched around your waist. Beneath, your underwear clung to you like a soaked rag, drenched with the evidence of your arousal, growing damper with each slow rock of your hips against his growing erection.

And every time he latched on your nipple, a low grunt escaped his throat, a sound of pure, animal hunger. You felt the pressure building in your lower belly, a tightening coil that threatened to snap. "I-am--gonna," you trailed off, your head rolling back in pleasure.

Leon pulls back just an inch, his eyes dark and predatory. "Just from me sucking you, baby? Aren't you a little too responsive today, hm? Or is it doing this out in the open that turns you on?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he shifts his grip from your waist to your breast, cupping the plump flesh in his palm and kneading it with rough intensity; molding and squeezing it in his palm before latching onto your other nipple. He sucks it hard, and as he does it; the action draws a loud cry from you, still his fingers kept pinching and rolling the sensitive peak he'd abandoned a few seconds ago.

"Ah—mphmm," you moan, startled by the sudden shift in his pace, his mouth working on one breast while his hand torments the other. "Leon--" you felt ashamed and still strangely turned on, and you whisper between your ragged breaths, "What is someone hear us?!"

"Sh've thought about that when you were whispering those naughty things in my ear, baby," Leon speaks around your breast, his stubble tickling your chest making you breath in slow pace, and a cruel smirk plays at his lips.

"Let me suck you in peace, baby." He grunts and dives back in, grazing his teeth against your nipple before drawing it deep into his mouth making you grip his shoulder for balance. And he sucks your nipple hard, while pulling the other sensitive peak between his fingers as if vacuuming the pleasure out of you.

Slowly, he removes his hand from your breast, and pulls your nipple out of his mouth making you whine in protest, he chuckles at your reaction and slides his hands down your belly towards the damp fabric of your underwear. His fingers found your clit instantly from above your underwear, as he traces it; you feel it was already peaked and pulsing. He flicks it hard that makes you nearly jump out of your skin, and you let out a broken moan the moment he does it.

"Your underwear is soaked, baby," he whispers, his voice a gravelly rasp. "Doing it in a parking lot makes you horny, hmm? Seems like you're a little slut."

"I'm not—" you protest instantly.

He grunts and hooks his fingers into the lace of your underwear and sliding it to the side of your cunt, as he does you feel the cool air hit your wet folds for a split second before he grips your waist and hauls your opening forward; towards his cock. "Look at it," he mutters. "Look how my dick is twitching for you."

"Don't lie, baby. Your pussy is screaming for my cock." Leon groans and hastily reached for his belt, the metallic click of the buckle opening echoing in the small space.

He freed his cock swiftly, which sprang out, thick and pulsing with a heavy vein running down the side. His cock was rock hard and already throbbing while the tip of his head pulsing at the need.

You obeyed his voice already desperate and looked down, seeing his cock hovering just an inch from your entrance, that makes you drool at the spot. And you shift instantly, guiding the broad head against your clit first, smearing the pre-cum that dripped off him across your sensitive nerves and as you do a whimpering sob of anticipation escapes your lips.

"Now," he groaned impatiently. "Squeeze my cock; sit on it."

You lick your lips as lust practically oozes out of your orbs and you lift your hips and sink down on his cock with a loud squelch, and you scream his name which makes you close your for a second as you feel the blunt head push past your dripping hole, sliding through the tight ring of your muscle and diving deep into your soaking heat.

The sensation was so overwhelming that tears spilled from your eyes and now every perfect bit of your makeup was ruined; not that you regret it.

As you swallows his cock into your cunt your walls wraps around his cock instantly and you feel his thickness stretching your walls to their absolute limit, and you gasp his name while arching your back; which for an instant made you feel like you had broken your spine in half.

"Fuck," Leon gasped, his head falling back against the seat. "Your cunt is such a perfect mold for my cock. If I could, I'd freeze you right here—forever."

You paused for a moment at his comment and straighten yourself before looking down where you two were joint his cock resting inside you; and your chest heaves heavily; as if you were taking your time to allowing your body to accommodate the intrusion of his cock.

You could feel the heat of him filling every available inch of you, the friction of his skin against your inner walls creating a searing pleasure, and you let your gaze settle on his flushed face, "Do it, baby" he whispered with a smile. "Ride my cock, like your life is depend on it."

You nod and hum in response and slowly you began to move, lifting yourself up, and sliding almost all the way down, the wet sound of your pussy releasing his shaft and devouring it again and again fills the car. Then, you repeat your own movements first move up; them you slammed back down. "Oh my god--!" "Fuck--Leon!! The impact sent a shockwave through your pelvis. You felt his cock hit your cervix, a deep, blunt thud that made your toes curl.

"Yes, just like that," Leon groaned, his hands moving from your hips to your tits, squeezing them in rhythm with your bounces. "Keep bouncing like that; take every inch of me."

"Leon, I can't..it's too much—" you sobbed, yet your hips betrayed you, still rocking against his cock and you felt unable to stop even as the words broke against your lips.

As his words settled inside your chest you increase your pace and the car began to rock gently on its suspension. Your lungs felt breathless, your movements turning frantic as the sounds of sex filled the car, the wet, desperate squelch of your juices churning with each thrust, the sharp slap of your thighs against his hips thrumming through your chest like a drumbeat; while the heavy, rhythmic heavy thud of his balls hitting your ass.

"Shhh... shhh, you're taking me so well, baby," he praised, his voice thick with lust and slowly with a low grunt he raised his hand to your face, catching your tears with his thumb, then slowly brought them to his lips, while his eyes stayed locked on yours as he licked them clean, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled and guttural. And in total excitement you accelerated, your hips blurring as you rode him fast. The amber light flickered as the car swayed with your movement.

He the next moment reached up; grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you down into a kiss, and he devoured your mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside to tangle with yours. And you feel yourself rainbow filling the back of your eyes; as you tasted the salt of his skin and the copper of desire. He sucked your tongue, exchanging saliva in a messy, desperate hunger that mirrored the friction happening below.

"I want—I want you to cum inside me!" you cried, your voice breaking.

Just then you felt a sudden, sharp spike of panic, the thought of a security guard walking by, a flashlight hitting the tinted glass, and that fear instead of making you stop acted like a fuel. Your internal muscles clamped down on him, pulsing in tight, rhythmic waves.

"Fuck, you're milking my cock," Leon growled, breaking the kiss to gasp for air. "You're trying to drain me dry, aren't you?"

"fuc--fuck." He gripped your hips and began to thrust upward, meeting your descent with powerful, violent surges. The speed increased, the sounds turning into a frantic, wet slapping. And you could feel the friction of heat building inside your stomach that felt like it was melting you from the inside out.

"I'm gonna come! Leon, I'm coming!"

"Do it," he roared. "Cum for me. Let me feel it."

He gave one final, deep plunge he buries himself to the hilt of your cervix his cock slamming against your deepest part. He groaned, a long, low sound of surrender, as he erupted inside you. You felt the hotness of his seed hitting and painting your internal walls, pulse after pulse of warm fluid filling your womb.

The orgasm hit you like thunderbolt. Your pussy contracted violently clamping around his cock in a series of intense, crushing spasms.

You screamed his name over and over again; the sound echoing in the enclosed space, your head falling onto his shoulder as your entire body shuddered.

"Good girl," leon moaned but he didn't stop. Instead he kept thrusting into you, making you shiver as your wrap your hands on the nape of his neck; his movements becomes shorter and more desperate. He could feel your walls pulsing around him, the heat of your climax triggering his own. "I'm—fuck—I'm!"

As he empties himself you press your bare chest against him, your skin slick with sweat, your breath coming in ragged sobs. The silence returned to the car, heavy and thick, broken only by the sound of your synchronized breathing and the ticking of the cooling engine.

But leon didn't move anymore, he kept you pinned to him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, feeling the remnants of the orgasm ripple through both of you.

Slowly he sighed and then he kissed your temple, his lips lingering on your damp skin. "You did so well, baby," he whispered, his voice returning to that soft, possessive hum. "Such a good girl."

You let out a low laugh and shaky breath, your heart hammering against your ribs; and you feel his beat in sync too and between the risk; the filth and the sheer intensity of him, you felt hollowed out, and utterly satisfied.

For a moment; you stayed there tangled in each other while his cock already hardened inside you but he made no movements anymore and in that amber glow, the scent of sex and leather clung to your skin like a cloth and the air soon turned a mixture of your sweat and arousal.

Giving your back a much needed stretch you get out of your chair, grab your coat and printed report and head out of your office for the night. You hand the front desk the envelope you put the report in before finally leaving the building.

By the time you make it home to your shared apartment it’s 7:15. It’s more than enough time to get ready you think, slightly stressing you’ll make a bad impression on the girls by being behind schedule. Walking down the hall to your room you see Stephanie finishing up her makeup in the mirror. She sees you in the reflection and screams. “Holy shit! She lives! And here I thought you were gonna ditch on tonight.”

You respond while getting changed into the dress you left out this morning for tonight. “Sorry, report took way longer than expected.” Grabbing your heels and slipping them on before checking your self out in the mirror.

You’re wearing a black halter neck cocktail dress that goes down to just above your knees. It has a slit going down the left leg adding a semi sexy flair to it. The girls told you to dress nicely as you would be stopping at a couple nice bars while out tonight.

Quickly stepping into the bathroom to make sure your makeup and hair looks good Stephanie gives you a quick whistle. “Looking good, trying to impress anyone tonight?” You glance down to see her wearing a red strapless mini dress that covers just enough of her behind to be publicly acceptable. “What about you? Need quick access tonight?” You shoot back. “Touchée” she mutters as she finishes her lipstick.

You give your hair a quick brush and touch up your makeup, ever thankful that is still looks good despite being on since 6:30 this morning. You meet up with Stephanie at the door of the apartment. “Cathy’s and the girls are here, they’ll give us a ride.”You both step out, lock the door and make your way to the front of the building where you can hear the song “Yummy” by Ayesha Erotica blasting from a pink Toyota supra. Guessing that’s her and your assumptions being proven by a blonde girl in a pink dress rolling down the window and screeching when she saw Stephanie you hop in the back. the car is packed with the girls you’ll be spending your night with. Cathy, the blonde girl in the pink dress behind the wheel, Laura, the brunette in the passenger seat and Emma, the girl sitting in between you and Stephanie. You think you yourself about how pretty she is, she’s got the most Lucious hair you think is humanely possible and she’s wearing a purple cocktail dress.

The five of you arrive at the first bar and get your drinks, liking a slow start you only get a Shirley temple not wanting to get completely hammered too soon. You actually want to remeber some of the fun, you know.

Only ten minute into being there the girls are already getting hit in by a group of guys. Every single one of them but you. Honestly you just went out because it would be nice hanging out with some new people but it’s clear they aren’t really out for a “girls night.” They’re here to find someone to hook up with.

You finally decide to order some alcohol to help with the empty sensation left by the girls completely ignoring you and leaving you behind to go dance with the guys. At least Stephanie and Emma had the kindness to ask you if you were alright with them dancing with the guys. You said yes and thanked them for asking first.

You manage to down two vodka cranberries in the time it takes for them to decide they’re done dancing. Stephanie comes over to tell you the guys invited you all to visit another bar. Deciding that bar hopping was where all the fun was at on a night out. With little to no choice you pay your tab and go to the next bar with everyone.

The cycle of being left behind and watching Cathy grind upon some random guy that you didn’t quite catch the name of when he told it to and then switching bars was continued for about three hours before it finnaly settled when Emma invited everyone to a quiet bar owned by her uncle. With the group all drunk and talking over you, you excuse yourself over to the bar and order a whisky on the rocks, needing something to feel a burn aside from the feeling of being left out.

Your broken out of the trance of your bobbing ice by the sound of an older man speaking next to you.

“What’s a young lady like yourself doing drinking the night away in a place like this?” The remark is enough to bring a small smile to your face.

“But seriously, there’s no way you’ve got enough ghosts to be chasing them at your age.” He says. For the first time tonight you laugh, kinda sad to think it’s an older gentleman and not your roommate and her friends who you were supposed to be with.

“Well, it’s not necessarily ghost I’m chasing, more trying to fill a hole and pass the time.” You respond, your voice tired. “Well I can say for sure that whisky will not fill a hole. Hell, it probably gives you more.” He says with a breathy chuckle.

Now that you get a good look at him you realize this man is really, and you mean really, good looking. He’s muscular in all the right places, biceps pressing against the sleeves of his shirt that looks almost too small on him. And his face, strong jawline with that handsome 5 o’clock shadow, tired eyes that show he’s lived things nobody should, and a 90s boy band haircut showing he’s still somewhat youthful. This man looks straight outside of an action movie.

“I got ditched on a girls night out. They’re still here, I just felt left out and decided to sit up here rather than sit with them” you say. You’re not sure why you opened up to him, a complete stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe you’re just that desperate to talk to someone. You hope it’s the latter.

“Some girls night out huh, guess that’s why your dresses so fancy despite being in a place like this.” He responds. His eyes linger a bit longer than they should on the dress you’re wearing but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s not the perverted glance of an old man imaginable what’s underneath. It’s more of an analytical gaze trying to piece together what happened to you tonight.

“Well they told me “dress fancy, we’re going out!” I was expecting cocktail bars and gossip. Not dive bars and grinding.” You respond, disappointed about how the night has been going so far.

Almost as if he could read your mind he asks, “well, nights still young. Not too late to turn it around. What do you say? Wanna get out of this place and go somewhere more fitting for your dress?” He suggests. You ponder for a minute. Leave this bar and attempt to have a good time with a complete stranger who looks old enough to be your father if he had you young, or stay with the people who make you feel like a side piece.

You decide to try to make the most of what’s left of the night and get up from your chair leaving money on the bar to cover your tab as well as a tip. “Where do you suggest we go… I’d say your name but I just realized I never asked you for it!” Wow, you think. You’re ditching your roommate and her friends for a guy you don’t even know the name of.

Amused by the remark of you not knowing his name the man smirks and says “I happens to know a nice place, and name’s Leon.” Leon… it’s a good name, rolls off the tongue nicely. “Leon” you say out loud getting a feel for how it sounds. “Well then, it’s nice to meet you Leon.”

As you head towards the door of the bar you hear Leon speak. “And who do I have the pleasure of spending the night with?” He asks making you realize you’ve never told him your name either. “Oh! My name is Y/N.” You respond. “Well then Y/N, lead the way.” He says holding the door open for you.

About a block down from the bar Leon guides you into a sky scraper. He takes you to the elevator and presses the button to the highest floor when you exit the elevator the hall leads directly to one fancy looking door.

“Here we are.” Says Leon who pushes the door open for you. Taking a step in you stop to take in the surrounding bar.

The lights are dim, there’s quiet house music playing, a semi-circle bar against the back wall sourounded by tables and booths around the outer walls beside the windows showing a view of the city. The place has an intimate vibe, one where you can really sit a chat with the person you with.

You and Leon sit at the bar and order your drinks. He orders a whisky neat and you an old fashioned. “I didint take you for an old fashioned kind of girl.” Leon says, intrigued by your order.

“What did you think I would order?” You ask. Interested in the way he perceived you. “Well, I took you for either the sweet or completely bitter type, not a citrus spice kind of girl.” Leon says chucking to himself.

You give him a quiet smile. You ask him if he would mind moving to a booth as the bar stool is slowly making your legs go numb. He nods and guides the both of you to a booth.

Conversation flows between the two of you like you’ve known each other for years. You learn he’s 49 years old, he never married and rarely ever dated, which he stopped doing in his early 30s, he doesn’t like speaking to much of his past and that he has a couple close work friends.

“Speaking of work, what do you do for work, Leon?” You ask. His job must keep him pretty busy if he doesn’t have much of a social circle outside of work.

He scoffs. “Well, it’s kinda top secret. So I can’t tell anyone.“

“Government job?” You ask, knowing the feeling of not being able to tell anyone anything more than that you work in national security.

“How’d you guess?” He chuckles, a bit surprised that you hit the nail on head.

“I work for the government too, it’s rough not being able to talk to people about your job. Especially when it keeps you super busy.” You respond.

“Huh, looks like we’re two peas in the governments pod.” Leon jokes. Somehow it manages to get a genuine laugh out of you.

Your eyes lock, just for a split second but it’s enough to make you blush. You could easily blame it on the alcohol but something in the air tells you not to, that he’s felling something too.

You both chose to ignore it for the time being. But as the conversation flows and the drinks go down you both start to flirt a bit. The occasional compliment from Leon, a teasing comeback from you. Eventually you start to brush your foot against his leg and it has a visible effect on him. His face goes red and a smirk twists itself onto his mouth.

“Careful sweetheart, or you might get more than you bargained for.” Leon teases. You slide your foot higher up higher before he stops it with his hand. You giggle a bit at the feeling.

“I told you sweetheart, but I don’t think I have to remind you. Your smart enough to know what your doing.” He says, looking you dead in the eyes. You just smirk in reply.

“How about we get out of here, il drive you home. If you don’t want me knowing where you live il drop you off a block away or so.” He suggests. You know what he’s getting at, he’s giving you the option to go home but you’re not quite ready to end the night.

The both of you walk down the street, Leon had his hand on your lower back guiding you towards the parking garage below the building. Once your in the garage Leon unlocks the car doors to find the car by its lights. When you see his car your jaw drops.

A grey Porsche cayenne turbo GT. The sexiest suv you’ve seen in your life. Complete with leather seats, sleek racing look, digital speedometer and led light interior lining. You feel like a princess being taken home from the ball in a carriage. Except this carriage has 650 horsepower.

Leon opens the door for you ye get in and closes it after you enter. He starts the car and you hear that beautiful purr the engine makes. You’re not sure what turns you on more, the man next to you or the car he drives.

Leon turns on the radio to play some soft rock music on a low volume. The rolled down Windows refresh the atmosphere and the breeze flows through your hair. You lean slightly towards Leon finally getting a breeze on his cologne. It’s woody and leathery with a spicy hint to it.

Leon’s hand moves from the gear shift to rest next to your leg on the seat, silently testing the boundries. You move your knee toward his hand until his pinky is resting against the side of your thigh. His hands are warm and rough with calluses but the limited touch is somehow exiting you even more.

Slowly he moves his hand to rest on the top of your thigh. He alternates between tapping his fingers to the beat of the song playing through the speakers of the car and slowly rubbing his hand back and forth across your thigh. You just wish he would explore just a bit higher because it would mean he would feel just how wet you were getting for him even though he wasn’t doing anything special yet.

Eventually he gathers up his courage to carefully slide his hands up beyond m the slit in your dress. Brushing his fingers over the top part of you underwear before slowly dipping down between your thighs.

You hear him let out a dark laugh. Turning your head your met with Leon who’s keeping his eyes focused on the road. “This wet and I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” He says, finnaly turning towards you with a smirk on his face. “Maybe it’s time I finnaly give you something to be exited for then.” Just as he finishes his sentence his hand begins to rub your clothed bundle of nerves in a circular motion. The sensation brings out a quick breath from you. You shudder at the feeling, a chill running up your spine as you press into the feeling of his hand. It’s not enough, you want, you need more.

“Slow down sweetheart, we’ve still got a long drive before we park.” He says picking up speed in both the car and his finger on your clit. Quickly you pull up you dress so he has better access. He slides your panties to the side and covers his fingers in your slick. The feeling is phenomenal, your cunt begging for something, anything (preferably him) to fill the void.

His middle finger dips lower until it’s rubbing circles around your pulsing hole. “Leon…” you manage to speak, voice weaker than you imagine it wound be.

“What do you want sweetheart? Use your words.” He says, teasingly. His fingers pressing against the opening just enough for you to moan but leaving before any satisfaction can be felt.

“Please, Leon… Use your fingers.” You beg him, needing more. The teasing is killing you, your thighs burn from trying to get more but he doesn’t allow you to.

“I am using my fingers baby, gotta be more specific than that.” He sarcastically says. “Leon, fuck me with your finger please, I need it.” You break, shouting at him what you want to make to sure you get what you need.

"Yes—yes!" you moan, squeezing your eyes shut for a second as his fingers push into your ass, stretching that tight ring while the dildo keeps grinding against your spongy spot, pressing perfectly, hitting every right nerve. Instinct takes over your back arches even deeper, and you offer yourself up as he starts slamming his fingers in and out of your other hole, the dual pressure; making you see stars behind your eyelids.

Feeling you squeeze around his fingers, loud moans rip from Leon's throat. "Now—" he groans, pulling himself back, gripping his cock with his free hand and lining it up with your tight hole. His other hand finds your hips, gripping even tighter, anchoring you in place. "I'm going to fill this hole of yours with my cum, and then whenever you sit you'll be dripping me out of your ass..." He says it with such absolute seriousness that you believe him instantly and then he's finally pushing his cock inside you, stretching you open, claiming that last inch of you as his own.

As he does unrecognizable scream, escapes your lips, and you feel tears brimming up in your eyes; "fuck-- please leon, dont stop moving" you beg , gripping the sheets below your nails.

"My beautiful, impatient slut..." Leon murmurs, his words slurring in the drunkenness of his lust. He finally starts moving, slamming his cock into your ass while you keep squeezing around the dildo that sits deep against your cervix. With a slow, deliberate rhythm, Leon guides himself even deeper so deep you could swear you feel him at your spine. His other hand moves to your hips, giving them a rough squeeze that has you sobbing endlessly into the pillow.

"Harder!!" You gasp loudly "please, leon fuck me harder.." you moan, feeling your eyes roll back at your head.

"Like this?" Leon grunts, slapping your ass, making the flesh jiggle with the impact. You moan even louder the sting somehow increasing the pressure of heat in your lower belly rather than hurting. It comes out as ragged breathing into the pillow. "Oh my god, don't stop," you breathe shakily, the slap echoing like a vice through the silent room.

he grunts and increases his pace inside you; and feels your hole squeezing his cock even tighter "Your ass is going to break my cock, baby," Leon moans, before pulling himself completely out of you until only the broad tip of his head remains inside. He breathes hard, then slams back into you. "if your ass keep squeezing my cock like this, i am not pulling out ever again.." leon grunts loudly; and moves with rhythmic force; making your tits bounce and scrape against the bedsheet in an similar flow.

You feel yourself getting high on the dual sensation his cock and the dildo working you open as he keeps pushing himself deeper. His shaft swells inside you, throbbing hard as your walls spasm around him, as the veins of Leons cock pulsing rapidly against your sensitive flesh, both of you racing toward the edge.

“Baby, I feel like I’m going to— ” Leon cut himself off with a strained breath, voice rough with restraint. You couldn’t answer properly. Couldn’t form words. All you managed was a small, breathless nod against the pillow, your thoughts completely tangled, your body too overwhelmed to keep up with anything he was saying anymore.

while your cunt grip the dildo like its your only lifeline; and heat forms in your lowerbelly making your heart race, like you just ran a 10000 meter marathon; slowly you feel pressure building in your pussy and it warm with the force of his movements.

"Please, fill my ass with your cum—let my cunt and ass know who owns them," you say without thinking, the words slipping out involuntarily as your eyes flutter shut, already feeling the warmth beginning to pool deep inside you.

"Leon, I cant take I am going to cum", you breathe panicked as you feel something else forming in your pussy too, and your pussy clench instinctively tighter on the dildo, as your ass grip his cock refusing him to let go; "I think you need to stop, I am going to pee--"

But leon cuts you off, there was something unrecognizable in his voice almost primal as he feels his cock ready to burst inside you. "Are you going to squirt too?" Leon asks, his chest heaving.

"No, I never squirted—I don't think my body even can—" You try to close your eyes, but your hips betray you, arching higher off the bed.

"Baby, only one way to find out," leon moans as he leans down on your backHis weight settles over your back, palms sliding beneath you to cup your breasts, He rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, tugging just to the edge of pain; as his cock keep pulsing and you spasm around his cock; your walls fluttering trying to break everything your are holding in.

"N-gh—I can't, it feels embarra—" Another sob breaks from your throat, and suddenly you're crying in earnest, tears hot against the pillow as your body shakes with the effort of containment.

"Baby, I want you to soak me—your pee, your squirt, everything. Give me all of you," Leon breathes against you, his voice wrecked and raw between moans.

His fingers keep working your nipples, rolling and pinching until you arch beneath him. "I—I'm going to fill your filthy hole with my cum." He grunts loud and guttural against your ear, driving into you a few more desperate times. You feel his cock swell and pulse violently as he finally breaks, spilling his seed deep inside your warmth, painting your walls with thick hot stripes of release. His balls slap against your entrance with every final thrust until he's emptied himself completely, then Leon collapses with a satisfied grunt his full weight pressing you into the mattress.

You shatter with him immediately, your pussy clenches and throbs around the dildo while your ass flutters and grips his cock. The convulsion rips through you hard and fast, and a second later your lower belly gives out. You spray your juices across Leon's abs, soaking him like he begged, the wetness spreading beneath the sheets as you squirt in desperate, rhythmic pulses. Now you're really crying not from shame, not from pain, but from sheer pleasure overload, because god, you've never felt anything like this, and it's devastatingly beautiful.

"Fuck, you really squirted.. god, you are beautiful," Leon smiles against you, his hands wrapping around your breasts, holding them tight. You can still feel yourself convulsing from the orgasm, aftershocks rippling through your spent body in waves. You could swear you felt empty, hollowed out completely and yet so full of him.

After, when you're both spent and trembling, your heartbeats sync in the silence. The room fills with ragged breathing and the thick, musky scent of sex. "Please," Leon pants against your sweat-dampened skin, "never leave me."

For a second, you can't speak, so instead you just nod, lost in him, and drowning in the aftermath of everything else.

Leon is partially sure that Chris had something to do with the shorter quarantine stay, but the man isn’t here for him to ask. Chris had left soon after he came, citing that the work never ended. In all honesty, Leon is pretty sure that the man just didn’t want to hang around a hospital for longer than needed, but he can’t blame him.

The nurse is checking in with you, handing you a few bottles of prescriptions. Their orange bottles catch the light, highlighting the simple font. There’s some painkillers, a minor steroid, and some antibiotics. Enough pills to help you through the worst of it, at least until physical therapy started soon. 

His hand finds your shoulder as she keeps speaking, eyes looking down at you.

You’re finally dressed in your casual clothes again, after a week of being in a hospital gown. A plain pair of comfy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The clothes cover most of you, but it doesn’t matter. You look… real. Not like that picture. Not like something he had to piece together from a file. Not like the image burned into his head, hollow-eyed and half-gone; something pulled from a file and stamped with a number.  Just you. Though it brings a blush to his face, he can’t help but think about how pretty you look.

The nurse keeps talking, pointing at each bottle in turn. “This one is every six hours as needed for pain. This one, twice daily, with food. And this antibiotic needs to be taken until it’s completely finished, even if symptoms improve.”

Leon nods along, committing it all to memory before she even finishes the sentence.

“I’ve got it,” he says.

The nurse glances between the two of you, then offers a small, polite smile. “We’ll have physical therapy set to start within the week. You’ll get a call to schedule your first session.”

A pause. Then, softer, directed at you this time, “Try to take it easy until then.”

You don’t respond verbally. Your fingers shift slightly in your lap, brushing once against Leon’s wrist. A faint, uneven tap.

He glances down, then back up at the nurse. “She will.”

The nurse gives a final nod, then steps away, leaving the two of you in the quiet hum of the hallway. For a second, neither of you move. Then Leon’s hand settles more firmly against the back of your chair.

“Ready to head to the airport?” he asks.

A small pause.

Then, two little taps.

He huffs out the ghost of a smile. “Yeah. Thought so.”

.

.

.

The airport is just as busy as always.

There’s hoards of people milling about. Some of them are deep in conversation on their phones, others are getting their luggage off of conveyor belts. The hustle and bustle of life feels almost too overwhelming after over a week in the quarantine room.

In the wheelchair, your body stiffens. Leon watches as your good leg twitches, almost as if you’re sizing up if running is possible or not.

His grip tightens on the handles, brain thinking up a good distraction from the overwhelming noises.

With a smile, a bag of chips gets picked up from a storefront counter, and he drops it unceremoniously into your lap.

You shoot him back a curious look. The message is clear.

I’m not hungry??

The confusion is outweighing the anxiety. Good. Just like he’d hoped. One of his hands comes forward, patting your shoulder.

“Save it for the plane. It’s gonna be a long flight. Airplane food sucks.”

.

.

.

Inside the plane, the cabin is mostly empty. Gray seats line the inside like terracotta soldiers, their fabric soft but worn. Leon pushes you over to your row gently, whispering out little jokes and silly comments. 

A flight attendant approaches with a practiced smile. “We can assist with seating-”

“I’ve got her,” He’s already moving.

He doesn’t wait. Ever since he read your file, he doesn’t want unfamiliar hands on you. What follows is the same motion as before. Firm arms lift you up, holding you close to him as he positions you over the seat. At the same time, the flight attendant folds the wheelchair and sets it aside.

“On three,” he murmurs again. “One… Two-”

He lowers you. You tense for a split second, breath catching, fingers gripping into his shirt as your leg brushes against the front of the chair. Then it passes. Faster than before, your body relaxing like you know he won’t let you get too hurt.

“Got you,” he says quietly.

He lowers you into the window seat, adjusting your leg with precise, practiced movements. The seatbelt comes next; slow, deliberate, giving you time to follow every motion. Once you’re settled, he pulls a blanket back over you, one that he had packed in his carry on, smoothing it down absentmindedly.

Then he finally takes the seat beside you.

Close.

Always close.

Before the mission, being close had been dangerous. He hadn’t admitted his feelings. He hadn’t wanted to be too forward. Or even worse, to lose you and have what remained of his heart shattered all over again.

But now? As your body leans into him, head laying delicately against his shoulder?

He has no issues with being close, his head turning to kiss your forehead as you settle in. 

His heart leaps when you look up at him, eyes sparkling in a way that he knows is trouble. That sparkle means mischief.

Quickly, so fast that he can barely register it, you lean up, pressing your lips to his. You taste like cherry flavored chapstick, your lips warm and soft as they kiss him.

He freezes.

Since that first kiss over a week ago, he hadn’t done it again. He had been so focused on both of you healing that neither of you had discussed much about your relationship. Besides holding you and giving you the occasional kiss on your cheek, he had barely even touched you. 

He kisses back hard, one of his hands coming up to card through your hair. The feeling is intoxicating, and he finds himself lingering even as you pull away.

Your giggle is like music. Soft and melodic, lulling him towards you.

He flushes, sputtering out a response.

“What was that for?” It comes out rougher than he intends, caught somewhere between breathless and stunned.

You don’t answer right away. Of course you don’t. Instead, your fingers lift, brushing lightly against his wrist, once, twice, before trailing up to his forearm. A familiar rhythm now. Grounding and reassuring. Then, after a second, your hand shifts, tapping more deliberately.

Wanted to.

His throat tightens.

“…Yeah?” he murmurs, softer now.

You nod, just a little, eyes still holding that spark. Not the hollow emptiness from the file. Not the distant, waiting stillness from before. This is different. This is you choosing something. Choosing him. His hand comes up again, slower this time, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away. When you don’t, his fingers settle gently along your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Careful,” he mutters, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “You keep doing that, I’m not gonna be very professional about it.”

Another small sound leaves you, half hum, half laugh, and your head tips back against his shoulder like you belong there. Like you’ve decided you do.

He exhales quietly, some of the tension leaving his body as he leans into you just a fraction more. His hand finds yours under the blanket, threading your fingers together without thinking.

The plane hasn’t even taken off yet. The cabin hums softly around you, overhead compartments clicking shut, distant voices murmuring, the low whine of the engines starting to build. It should feel loud. Overwhelming. But you’re not rigid anymore. Your body is relaxed against his side, your breathing steady. Every now and then, your thumb brushes against the back of his hand. Small. Absent. Like you’re reminding yourself he’s still there.

He squeezes back every time.

A flight attendant passes by, doing a final check. Leon barely registers it. His attention is fixed entirely on you; on the way your eyes slowly drift shut, on how your weight settles more fully against him.

Three little taps.

Tired.

Of course you are.

His head tilts slightly, resting against yours.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Your fingers twitch once in his hand. A faint, sleepy tap.

I know.

It hits him harder than anything else. Not the file. Not the photo. Not the words you wrote with shaking hands.

That. That quiet, certain trust.

His grip tightens just a little, careful not to wake you too much.

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than anything. “I know.”

Outside, the plane begins to move, slow at first, then faster. The world shifts beneath you; runway lights streaking past, the ground falling away. 

And for the first time since he opened that file, Leon feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re both finally going somewhere better.

.

.

.

His apartment is just how he left it.

Quiet and still, the dust has settled from when he’d last been there, like even the fine particles had decided to finally take a rest. Leon is the first to step in, wheeling you across the threshold only after he’s done a quick look around. A habit he’d formed long ago, back in his rookie days. Always checking for threats before settling down. Something tells him that you’re the same, judging by how you eye the furniture like something is waiting to pop out from behind it. 

At first, you had insisted that you’d be fine taking care of yourself in your own apartment, even with your injury. But then he’d wheeled you into your apartment complex and realized that there was no elevator, only stairs, and that you were legitimately just planning to try and hobble your way up the steps, and he very quickly put an end to that idea.

He’d already made plans to move some of your stuff in while you recovered. But for now, what you both needed was rest.

“We’re here. Get comfy.” His words are soft and quiet, observing you.

Your head tilts, eyes moving slowly around the space. Taking everything in. The couch. The low table. The dim lighting. One of his jackets tossed over the back of a chair like it had always been there. 

Your shoulders relax a little, your head tilting back to look at him. There’s a soft smile on your face, like you’re pleased with how everything has turned out. He can’t help but agree.

“Welcome home, Rookie.”

The words hang there.

Not my home.

Not the apartment.

Home.

Your gaze flickers back to him. There’s a pause. Then, a low hum.

His chest tightens at how small it is.

Thank you.

He huffs softly, something fond and a little disbelieving slipping through. “Yeah… don’t thank me yet. I’ve been told I’m not the greatest host.”

That earns him a laugh. The noise tumbles like rain, your body curling up a little. It brings a warmth to his face.

His hands return to the wheelchair. “C’mon. Let’s get you settled.”

.

.

.

He manages to get you laying in bed easily enough, the process going just like the other times he had helped you from the wheelchair. Your body sinks into the mattress, letting out a small sigh in relief. He knows for a fact that after those godawful hospital beds, a proper mattress probably feels like heaven. 

Silence settles in again, but this one is different. Not heavy. Not suffocating. Just… quiet. The kind of steady, even silence that he hadn’t felt since you both were back at the office. His eyes drift around the apartment, like he’s seeing it through your own eyes now.

There’s a glass on the table he forgot to wash. A stack of files shoved off to the side. His gun case, locked but not exactly hidden. He makes a mental note of everything all at once.

“…Might have to make a few adjustments,” he mutters.

Your fingers brush his wrist, eyebrow cocking. A little noise of curiosity lays low in your throat. 

He glances down. “Nothing major,” he adds. “Just, I want to make it easier for you to get around. Less sharp corners. Fewer ways for you to yell at me when you trip.”

A soft huff escapes you, your arm lifting off the bed to give him a playful slap. Then, your other hand comes up, making a writing motion. 

I’d like my notepad, please.

He’s quick to give it to you, pressing it against the bedside next to you. You’re quick to write a note.

Could you help me to the couch tonight? I don’t think I can walk there.

His brain takes a moment to catch up.

Do you… Think you’re sleeping on the couch?

He shakes his head, “What have I told you about pushing yourself too hard? No walking. That’s an order.” His hand pats yours, “And I’m taking the couch.”

Your lips open a little, hands scrambling to write more, but he stops you.

“No, no, no. You’re getting the bed. You’re not sleeping on the couch. Not with that leg.”

Your lips press together stubbornly, hand lifting your pencil again.

Then where are you going to sleep?

“I told you. The couch.”

Your eyes glare at him a little, nose crinkling in frustration. He can’t help but find it adorable. A hand writes more in your notepad. A single word.

Stay.

The word is smaller than the others. Careful. Like you’re not sure you’re allowed to ask for it. Leon stares at it for a long second.

“…You mean that?” he asks quietly.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the pencil. Then, two taps.

His chest pulls tight. He studies your face, searching for hesitation. For doubt. For any sign that you’re forcing yourself into this out of obligation. He doesn’t find it. Just that same quiet certainty you had on the plane. 

“... Alright.”

The words are soft and careful. Like he’s the one stepping into unfamiliar territory now. He shifts on the edge of the bed, moving to the other side, giving you space first; always giving you the option to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, you shift slightly toward him, your good leg adjusting under the blanket, your body angling in his direction like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’ve already decided. That’s what gets him.

Not the request.

The ease of it.

He reaches down, tugging the blanket up a little higher around you, making sure your injured leg is supported before settling in beside you. Careful not to jostle. Careful not to crowd. Giving you enough room so that you don’t feel forced into anything. 

 Your hand finds his sleeve. Light. Testing. He turns his palm up without thinking, letting your fingers slip into his. It feels natural, like this is always where he’s meant to be. 

For a while, neither of you move.

The apartment is quiet in a way that feels… safe. No machines beeping. No distant voices through thin hospital walls. Just the soft hum of the city outside and the steady rhythm of your breathing beside him. Your hand tightens around his, and his thumb brushes your knuckles in response. It’s slow and absent, like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

One of you must have shifted closer at some point, because you’re a lot closer than you were just a few minutes ago. Your shoulder presses lightly into his side, your head tilting just enough that your hair brushes against his jaw. It sends a small, quiet jolt through him; unexpected and warm.

“…Comfortable?” he murmurs.

A soft hum. Yes.

His chest loosens.

“Good.”

Silence again. But it doesn’t stay empty for long.

Your fingers slide from his hand to his wrist, tracing lightly up along his arm. Slow. Careful. Like you’re testing boundaries that didn’t exist before. As you move, he goes still. Letting you get comfortable with him.  Your touch reaches his sleeve, then higher. Bicep, then shoulder, before your hand pauses there, resting against him.

Waiting.

He turns his head slightly, looking down at you. You’re already looking at him.

Close. Too close for this to stay simple.

There’s something in your eyes now; something softer than before, but just as certain. Not mischief this time. Something deeper. His breath catches.

“…Rookie…” he starts, quieter than he means to.

Your fingers tighten slightly in his shirt, your index finger tapping him twice. A little noise falls from you. Not quite a hum, but something close.

This okay?

The question lands gently, ghosting over his skin. His gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, like he’s trying to make sure he’s reading this right. 

That’s all it takes. You move first this time.

Not quick like on the plane. Slow and deliberate. Giving him every chance to stop you.

Your hand slides from his shoulder to his jaw, fingers brushing along the line of it, a little unsteady but sure enough. His breath hitches when your thumb grazes his cheek, mirroring what he’d done to you before. Then you lean in. He meets you halfway.

The kiss is softer than before. Warmer. Not rushed. Your lips press against his, tentative at first; like you’re still figuring it out, still learning what’s allowed now. His hand comes up instinctively, cupping the side of your face, holding you there but not forcing anything. 

You melt.

That’s what gets him. The way your body relaxes into him like his very being means safety. The way your fingers curl into his shirt and card through his hair, holding on without fear. He deepens the kiss carefully, tilting his head just enough, his thumb brushing under your ear as he does. There’s a quiet exhale against his lips, yours, and it sends a spark straight through his chest.

You shift closer. Careful of your leg, but still determined.

Your hand, the one that was previously clenching his shirt, finds its way to the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper. 

He lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh against your mouth.

“Careful…” he murmurs between kisses, voice low and a little unsteady now. “You’re gonna make it real hard for me to behave.”

A small, breathy sound escapes you; something between a hum and a laugh.

You don’t stop. Neither does he.

The kiss lingers, deepens just a little more, until it feels less like testing boundaries and more like… settling into something that’s already been there. Your fingers curl a bit more confidently now, like you’re learning the shape of him the same way he’s been learning you. 

He exhales breathily, a smirk on his lips. “You’re trouble.”

A soft sound. Amused, perhaps, before you’re on him again.

The kiss isn’t tentative anymore.

Still gentle, still careful, but there’s intention behind it now. Your lips press to his with a quiet certainty, and when he responds, it’s immediate. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers spreading there, holding you close without force. Just enough to keep you from drifting away. You shift again, inching closer despite the limitations of your leg, your body angling toward him like you’re trying to erase the space between you entirely.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Easy,” he murmurs against your lips, breath warm. “Watch your leg-”

But you don’t pull back. Your hand slides from his hair to his shoulder, gripping lightly as you adjust, settling more securely against him. It’s clumsy for a second, awkward even, but determined.

You’re so close to him. Close enough that he can feel the steady rise and fall of your breathing against his chest.

That’s when something in him shifts.

The restraint is still there, but thinner now. His thumb brushes along your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper in a way that isn’t rushed but isn’t hesitant either. Like he’s letting himself feel it fully for the first time. 

Cautiously, his hand slides down to your waist, keeping you steady as you lean into him. The touch seems to spark something in you, a small noise coming from your throat. Almost a moan, but not quite there. 

For a moment, the world narrows.

No tragic pasts.

No files.

No hospitals.

Just this. Just you.

When the kiss finally breaks, it’s only because you need air. You don’t go far. Your lips hover close to his, your breath uneven, your forehead brushing his again. His hand lingers at your neck, thumb absentmindedly tracing along your skin.

“…You okay?” he asks quietly. 

A nod, your lips parted as you gasp in little breaths. 

His thumb brushes your cheek again, slower this time. “…Okay,” he murmurs.

Neither of you moves right away. You’re still close, too close to pretend this is nothing, but the intensity has shifted. Softened. The sharp edge of it fading into something quieter, warmer. Your hand is still curled lightly in his shirt, your other resting against his shoulder like you forgot to move it. He exhales slowly, like he’s grounding himself again.

“…We should probably start getting ready for bed. It’s getting late-” he starts.

Your fingers tap against his collarbone. Once. Twice. Three times. The message is clear.

Stay with me.

He swallows.

“…Alright,” he says again, softer this time.

Carefully, he shifts just enough to ease you both back down into the mattress properly. It’s slow, deliberate; his hand staying at your waist to keep you balanced, the other adjusting the blanket so your leg doesn’t move wrong. Even now, even like this, he’s thinking about that first. Thinking about your comfort. About you.

When you’re both settled, you end up tucked against his side, your head resting just below his shoulder. Close enough to hear his heartbeat again. It’s faster than before.

Your fingers drift down from his shirt to his hand, finding it easily in the dim light. You lace your fingers through his, a little clumsy but sure. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, but there’s no real complaint in it.

A faint sound leaves you. Amused again. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles.

The room settles.

The earlier tension fades into something softer, heavier. The kind of quiet that comes after too much emotion finally has somewhere to land. Your body relaxes more fully against him now, the adrenaline from everything, travel, the move, the closeness, starting to wear off.

He feels the way your breathing evens out. The way your grip loosens just slightly, not letting go, just… resting. His arm shifts around you again, more instinct than thought, pulling you a little closer without jostling your leg. His hand settles against your upper arm, thumb moving in slow, idle motions. Grounding you. Grounding himself.

“…Get some sleep,” he murmurs.

You don’t answer with taps this time. Just a soft exhale. And then you’re still.

Sleep comes easier than it has in a long time.

.

.

.

It doesn’t stay quiet. 

It never does for him.

As always, the nightmares start sooner than he’d like them to.  It creeps in slow at first. Familiar in the worst way. That heavy, suffocating pressure at the back of his mind. The kind that builds before he even realizes what’s happening.

Then it hits. Too fast. Too loud. Flashes; broken, jagged pieces. Blood. Concrete. Screaming that doesn’t sound human anymore. Hands reaching that he couldn’t grab in time. Faces he knows. Faces he lost.

He’s there again. Helpless. Too slow. Too late to help anyone.

His body locks. Muscles going rigid, breath catching hard in his chest like something’s crushing it from the inside out. He tries to move, tries to do something, but it’s like he’s stuck; trapped between waking and whatever the hell this is.

Everything spirals tighter. He can’t breathe. Can’t think. He just can’t. 

Something touches him. Light. Real.

A voice. Sweet and airy. “...Leon?” 

It cuts through it all. Not clean, not all at once, but enough. A pressure against his shoulder. Then against his face. Fingers, he realizes. Warm, soft, and grounding. His body jerks hard, a sharp inhale ripping through him like he’s been dragged up from underwater. His eyes snap open, wide and unfocused, the room not quite making sense yet.

He’s not there. He’s not in that damned city.

His breathing stutters, still too fast, but it starts to catch. Starts to follow something outside of the panic clawing its way through him.

He focuses on that. On you.

Your face comes into focus slowly. Blurry at first. Then clearer. Eyes on him. Not scared. Not pulling away. Just there. Grounding him.

“…Rookie…?” he rasps, voice wrecked.

You nod immediately, your fingers tapping along his jawline.

I’m here.

The words don’t need to be spoken. They land anyway.

He exhales hard, something tight in his chest finally giving way just enough for air to come back. His hand lifts to his face, dragging down slow, trying to wipe away whatever the hell that just was.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Your body lands into his, collapsing into him. It acts like a weighted blanket, forcing him into the present. Between the heat of your skin, the weight of your body, and the scent of your hair, it drags him back to reality. Relief hits hard enough that it almost makes him dizzy.

His shoulders drop, tension bleeding out in pieces. 

“…Sorry,” he mutters anyway, because it’s automatic. Because it’s easier than sitting with the fact that you had to see that.

Your grip tightens just slightly. Even in the dark of night, he can vaguely make out when you reach for your notepad. When a message lifts to his face, he has to squint to read it.

Don’t be. R u OK?

You’re not pulling back. Not inching away. Not putting distance between you and whatever just happened. You’re choosing to stay right where you are. With him. That… does something to his chest he doesn’t have a name for.

Slowly, carefully, his arm moves back around you. Not tight this time. Not instinctively bracing like before. Just… there. Open. Giving you space to leave if you want it. You don’t. Instead, you shift closer. Settle back against him like you were before.

Like nothing changed. 

Your fingers slip back into his, threading together again with quiet certainty. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles; slow, steady. A rhythm.

I’m here.

He watches you for a long second.

Then his hand closes around yours just a little tighter.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I’m okay.”

His head tilts back against the pillow, eyes drifting shut again; but this time, he’s not falling into that same spiral. Not alone in it. You’re still there. Your weight against him. Your hand in his. Your breathing steady against his chest. Real.

His thumb brushes over your hand once more before it stills.

And when sleep finally pulls him under again, it doesn’t feel like something he has to fight.

His curious hands start to slide down one of the straps of your bra, and your hand quickly stops his. And that’s when he started to beg, “just once, I swear I won’t ever ask again. Please, I promise” he whines. His words barely roll over in your head as you nod and lets him continue fumbling around with your bra in the dim lit room.

Leons eyes widens when he finally manages your bra to come off, his warm hands immediately cupping them. Eagerly swiping his fingers across your bare nipples, causing you to shudder and recoil from his touch. “Okay, that’s enough, don’t make this any weirder” you slur, leaning back and covering your chest with your arm as he pulls away with a simple nod.

But this only fuels his obsession, pushing it way too far after you woke up to him in your bed, his pink lips wrapped around the perked bud while he sucks gently — as if to calm himself.

He’s laid on top of you so you can’t push him off as easy as you do nothing by lie stiff underneath him, your brows furrowed from the confusion and disgust of the entire situation.

You know he’s not asleep because his thumb is toying with the nipple that’s not currently in his mouth while his eyes are pressed shut, but he knows that you’re also awake. He can tell from how much faster your breathing has got. But he’s planned this all out, he releases your nipple with a soft pop before murmuring. “They’ll only blame you, you know that right? If you tell them. They’ll say you were the one who initiated it and you’ll get most of the blame. But I won’t say anything if you don’t”

Leon was in a daze. More than usual lately. It wasn't the regular daze where he was stuck in his head from all the missions he went through and the lingering trauma of what he had experienced where he couldn’t get out of bed at times or he preferred to stay locked in his office to bury himself in mountains of reports just to forget what he had seen on each mission.

It wasn’t this type of daze. Somehow, Leon found himself watching your family’s kids with  intent, imagining what life would have been like if he had never gone to Raccoon City that night and just stayed away like the letter had suggested. Would he be a good dad like your cousin was towards his children? Would he have been a helicopter parent? Would he have a lot of kids? 

It was foolish thinking. In his line of work, he hardly had time to be at home, any thought of children should have left the moment the government decided he should join them in fighting bioterrorism. 

But dreams were good, right? Fantasies were allowed as long he didn’t act on them. Of course Leon didn’t act on them. He totally didn’t go to the store to linger in the children section showing you the latest cute clothes for children trying to pass it off as presents for your nieces. He didn’t go to the magazine section to read up on the latest pregnancy article. And he especially wasn’t looking at your stomach and touching it more often, or laying his head on it believing he can feel something underneath there.

Now his mind was completely elsewhere while at a birthday party for your cousin’s daughter. Leon thought he would have been a good dad to a girl, it was a thought that was always in the back of his mind since he was twenty-one. He was too afraid to have a son and have the imaginary son end up exactly like him or worse; his father. A daughter may end up like him but truth be told; he always wanted a daughter anyways.

Leon hated to think he was a natural with children when he was nothing but awkward around them. Sherry begged to differ since she liked being around him back in Raccoon City and you told him differently with how the little ones seem to like to come to him for some reason whenever he had the time to come to parties.

Perhaps because he always brought the most expensive or biggest gifts to each party. Uncle Leon was a mysterious and cool guy that his jokes seem to land more with the children than the adults. At least your family liked him, the aunties were always raving and whispering rather loudly how handsome he is and it definitely didn’t make some of the husbands jealous of their wives fawning over him.

Until Leon brings the beers to the non-children parties then he’s cool in their books. This was what normalcy felt like. This was what family looked like. He never had much of this growing up - he hardly had a family. With you, he finally understood what family meant. 

Leon was deep in thought looking around at the party, leaning back against the uncomfortable metal chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He liked to keep his view on the entire backyard to assess any upcoming threats, his eyes were always alert and narrow; not today they were soft, seeing the children laugh and play around, older family members dancing. 

His daze of normalcy was disrupted by you.

“Whaf if I bounced on it?” 

“What?” Leon questioned, immediately turning his head towards you with wide eyes.

“What if I bounced on it here and now?” You asked again, tilting your head in such an adorable way that Leon almost agreed and almost asked if he could cum inside of you if you did bounce on it right here and now. He had better control than that, he wasn’t in his early twenties anymore and children were present.

Leon looked around at the family party, nervously and with a bit of shyness. Fuck when was the last time he felt shy? Though, you brought that out of him at times.  “Sweetheart, I don't think that would be appropriate.” He scolded you.

“Sure it would, it's there for a reason.” You shrugged, nonchalantly, 

For the first time in months, his cheeks burned a bright red. “You can't just whip it out whenever you feel like. There's children around.”

“It's there for a reason. Who cares what anyone thinks?” 

“I do!” He protested.

A big huff came out of you. “Well I don’t.” You got up and Leon believed you were gonna ride him in the middle of a family event until you began walking away from him towards the jumping castle.

Oh. 

Oh. 

That's what you meant by bouncing on it. A jumping castle. Not his dick. What the fuck was going on with Leon that everytime he was around you that his mind kept going to the gutter? He groaned and placed his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment. 

And this wasn’t the first incident that has happened. Either his mind was constantly in the gutter or he was interpreting what you would say in a different manner. The first incident was the put it in me incident, that was the first time he realized he wanted to put a baby in you.

The incident went like this: it was similar to this situation, you were asking for him to put something in your ear because of an infection that somehow messed up your ear and his mind completely froze, stammering out a “what”. Granted, he hadn’t been listening much that day because he kept checking you out wondering if you were pregnant from how much bigger your breast seemed today or perhaps he was imagining it.

His imagination tends to override reality at times.

“Just put it in me, Leon!” You shouted, frustrated.

He was going to whip it out and put his dick in you. He was reaching for his zipper until you held out a bottle towards him. To say the least, he felt embarrassed and a little disappointed that you didn’t mean his dick. Either way, he was going to put you first and help you with the ear infection.

And each incident was crazier than that. It felt a little embarrassing at his age that he was acting this way. He wasn’t some horny teenager. He was above that, though, lately – after the Alcatraz Island mission; his mind had shifted a lot.

All thanks to Rebecca.

Rebecca had asked him if he was going to have any children with you anytime soon with a teasing nudge. He stiffened at that idea and immediately replied with a quick “never” then she mentioned how you both deserved a family if that’s what you both wanted.

Leon was sure for the longest time that’s what he didn’t want. He couldn’t bring a child into the world when there were still monsters out there determined to make viruses at every turn that he had to deal with and eradicate. He brushed off that idea of having anything for himself and now? He was constantly thinking about it.

He looked over to you in the bouncing castle interacting with your younger cousins. You were picking them up and slamming them on the bouncy castle. The sight made him chuckle from how aggressively you were playing with them. 

The children loved it. 

Would it look like this if you had children with him? He’d liked to think so. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t possible for him to have children, not with his job. The reality almost saddened him for a moment until something tugged at his shirt. With his senses always on alert, surprise filled him that something managed to catch him off guard.

Leon looked down to see the newest addition to the family. Veronica, a petite six-year old girl that constantly liked when Leon came over to parties because she liked to swing on his biceps, holding onto the edge of his shirt with big eyes.

“What is it, Veronica?” Leon questioned, turning in his seat feeling relieved to have moved on the uncomfortable metal chair just to lean down better towards the little girl. “You okay?” 

“I fell.” 

Leon rose an eyebrow and glanced down towards her knees. There were scrapes on her knees and flesh blood trickling down her legs. He didn’t like the sight of blood on someone innocent like Veronica and something deep inside of him demanded to wash away the blood and to fix the situation. 

“Quite a fall. Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” Leon pointed out and pushed himself off the metal chair to bend down picking up the little girl. He secured her in his right arm making sure she was comfortable before maneuvering across the grass. 

He didn’t get far when her mother came up and darted her eyes down to see Veronica bleeding again. She sighed, “you don’t have to deal with this, Leon. I can take her.”

“I don’t want you, mommy. I want Uncle Leon to help me.” Veronica immediately interjected.

Leon’s lips shifted up the tiniest bit. “You heard the little lady.” He said and patted Veronica’s back with security, “I got her.” He promised her mother with sincerity he was only allowed when he was around your family that became his family by extension. “I’m familiar with wounds like this, she’s in good hands.” 

Her mother nodded in agreement and Leon took her. There was a warmth blooming in his chest from your family trusting him so easily without complications or expecting everything back. He was so use to his world that at times, he almost forget this world exist too where love didn’t need transactions or paybacks.

It was just given.

Leon followed the familiar route out of the backyard to inside of the quaint two story house. It was almost second nature following the layout when he was constantly at your cousin’s house. For some reason, your cousin Caleb really liked having Leon around and easily became friends.

Therefore, his children loved Leon too, like Veronica.

Leon pushed open the ajar bathroom door with a shoulder and flicked on the switch to assess the damage on Veronica’s knees better. Placing the kid on the edge of the counter, he knelt down in front of her and carefully wrapped his hand around her ankle bringing the open flesh closer to his face.

It wasn’t too bad. Though, he assumed Veronica would have been screaming or sobbing from the pain; yet, there hasn’t been a peep out of her. “You sure you’re okay?” Leon questioned.

Veronica nodded. “Mhm-hmm.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“It does.” Veronica replied.

“Then why aren’t you crying, kid?” Leon asked, opening the cabinet beneath the sink to find first aid. 

“Because you told me that I’m a tough girl and I can handle anything.” Veronica repeated the mantra like it was second nature and Leon’s heart stammered. He had said it months ago when she had fallen off a swing when he was watching her. Of course the tears brimmed in her eyes and Leon didn’t know what to do at first, he couldn’t treat her like a soldier.

Veronica wasn’t a soldier. She’s a child. So, he told her a mantra that he had told himself during his days training with Krauser. He can handle anything; that was keeping him alive and away from putting a bullet through his head. Immediately, he saw the tears evaporating and the little girl’s chest puffing out.

Just like now.

Leon didn’t need to fight monsters created by greedy companies or corrupt leaders. His words alone had an impact. His fingers tightened a fraction around the first aid kit; he had made a difference and he didn’t need to put his life on the line for it.

This is why he loved your family. This is why his mind kept contradicting himself on the idea of wanting kids. If he can change his children's lives this way, then maybe, it would worth having one. 

A relieved smile formed on his lips as his hands easily found their way around the first aid kit – second nature to Leon from having to patch himself up too many times when there wasn’t a proper medic around - and took out the necessary items to fix her leg up.

“And don’t you forget you’re a tough girl,” Leon murmured gently, blowing soft air on the wound to cool down the heat before adding the antiseptic spray while her knee twitched. He muttered a quick apology, glancing up to make sure he didn’t harm her; there was no reaction and he smiled bigger from how brave she was. It didn’t take him long to fix her damaged knee up, allowing her to talk so she could forget about the pain; he couldn’t understand half of the things she was saying. 

It was just. . .innocent. He almost forgot how innocent the world is. Almost practically every day he lived in the darkest parts the world had to offer; carry the burden of what the public couldn’t know.

Make sure Raccoon City doesn’t happen again. 

There was still life in all of the death. 

Leon placed the Hello Kitty band-aid on her knee, stood up and patted her head. “There you go, all fixed up and practically new. You have a story to tell your friends about the killer scar you’re going to get, kiddo.” He said, grabbing Veronica by the waist and placing her down. “Go play with Spongebob or whatever.” He added gruffly and opened the door only to be met by you.

A big, cheeky smile formed on your lips as your arms were crossed. Leon can see the smugness written all over your face, his quick observation skills picked up on that you were listening to the whole interaction. 

His cheeks burned and muttered annoyed, “sneaking around again?” 

“Hmm, yeah.” You agreed with a shrug and grabbed Veronica by the head turning her towards the way of the backyard and gently pushed her in that direction. “It’s easy when you’re distracted.”

Leon grunted annoyed and before he can make a sarcastic comment, Veronica pulled on his jeans. “Thank you, Uncle Leon!” One quick tiny hug, her arms fit around his calf and his heart warmed from the hug; as much he was enjoying the innocence radiating from the little girl, she scampered off and he chuckled.

“You know, if you had a daughter like Veronica, she would get in trouble just like you.” Leon stated, closing the bathroom door behind him and not-so subtly, his eyes glanced down towards your stomach again with a head tilt. “Possibly sneaking around and trying to scare me too like you.”

He tried hinting. Leon wasn’t going to outright say he wanted children at the moment. He was admittedly shy - he was so adamant at the beginning of the relationship about not wanting kids. Now, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up, the best way was this way.

A laugh escaped your lips. “Right, but we don’t have children! So you’re just stuck with me.” He almost deflated from how clueless you responded. 

Usually, you could pick up on his hints easily; he thought the two of you were more connected knowing the person’s thoughts easily. Not this time, had he really been adamant on expressing he never wanted children before? 

Perhaps so. His face use to scrunch up at the thought of children or being a parent. His mind was too deep in his disappointed thoughts that he almost didn’t feel your hand curl around his bicep. “Come on, let’s get back to the party, they’re going to hit the pinata!” 

Leon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s go steal some kid’s candy.” 

Leon was spiraling even more. The world was mocking him. Each time he turned on the TV, there was children commercials from Pampers, Disneyland trips that made him seethe in his spot on the couch with his arms folded as he fumed seeing the dad happy with his little girl on rides. 

You looked at him like he was crazy and determined wrongfully he hated Disneyland. He tried giving a hint that it would be nice to go to an amusement park like Legoland and you just replied sincerely, “yeah, let’s kidnap my cousin’s kid to get inside.” 

Leon had to inhale deeply at that. 

At dinner, Leon was telling you random facts about being a girl dad that he had got from your cousin trying to hint once again about the idea of children. You were in the middle of eating your food and you made a face, “honestly that information might be good for when we get a cat.” 

Leon had to press his hands together in front of his face and pressed the tip of his nose and mouth against the side of his fingers. How much more obvious do I need to be? Leon thought, spiraling more and almost insecurely thought you didn’t want to have kids with him.

Now, it was later in the night and Leon was sulking on the bed. To anyone else, his stoic face looked like he was pissed or not in the mood. To you, it meant he had something on his mind. He was just blankly staring at the wall in front of him, glaring at it like it personally offended; almost wanting to strangle the invisible thing in front of him.

“Leon?” You questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed where he was laying at, dipping right beside him to place a hand on his thigh. A simple hum of acknowledgement came out of him. “Leon, what’s wrong?” 

For a long moment, Leon couldn’t look at you or reply. His eyes were fixated on the wall trying to let it spell out whatever his troubles were and when they didn’t, he took a long breath and finally looked at you. “Do you not want to have kids with me?” He asked, finally.

“What?” Confusion laced on your face from the sudden question, “where did this come from?”

“Did you really not get my hints for the past couple weeks?” He questioned, small yet frustrated.

You stared at him with more confusion trying to understand what hints he was talking about. When you didn’t immediately reply, Leon groaned and flipped over on the bed turning away from you rather dramatically. “Leon, if you’re going to sulk like a child then I’m going to treat you like one.” You scolded, patting his butt harshly that he glared over his shoulder, “what are you talking about, honey?” 

Leon clenched his jaw, not out of annoyance but from deciphering if he wanted to spill what he has been agonizing about for the longest time. The tension in his jaw finally released when he took another deep breath, “I’ve been dropping hints non stop about wanting children and you just kept. . .brushing it off. Am I. . .” He inhaled a shaky breath, “Am I someone you don’t want to have kids with? I know I’m not always emotionally available and I’m gone constantly but I swear, I can be a good dad and a better husband for you.” 

Realization dawned on you that Leon wanted children. Now that you were thinking about it, you were wondering why he had been acting weird and that one time he had tripped over his slippers from staring at your stomach. You thought you were getting fat and he was just too polite to say something.

No, he just wanted a family with you.

A giggle escaped your lips, “Leon,” you said softly, reaching out to grasp his face and leaned against his bicep to look at him better, “I really didn’t know you wanted kids. You should have told me immediately instead of just dropping hints!” You leaned in and kissed his nose, he scrunched his nose but let himself smile a bit.

“I didn’t think anything of it because you told me how you didn’t want children at the beginning of us dating.” You recalled, brushing strands of his hair away from his face, “I respected that and made my peace with that, too. But, truly, if you feel mentally okay with having children then I wouldn’t mind having them with you.” 

His eyes lit up as they always do when he was with you. Leon turned around to face you and wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing his face against your stomach. “I love you, baby. . .do you think I’ll be a good dad?” 

Your fingers brushed against his forehead to play with the strands of his hair. “The best.” 

Leon grinned bigger. “Thank you Rebecca for putting this idea further in my head.” He snuggled further against your stomach, planting a small kiss. “You’re not pregnant right now, are you?” He asked with hope but you shook your head, disappointment filled him for a moment then a mischievous grin tugged on his lips, “we’ll I guess I’m calling off work for the next three days making sure you’re properly filled by me.” 

Leon suddenly tugged you over him to take you on top of him. A loud series of laugh escaped and his lips found your neck immediately peppering kisses anywhere he could find a spot to touch. “Wait, I don’t think I’m ovulating right now.”

“You are.” Leon muttered a confirmation against your neck, purchasing his hands on your waist. “I have your cycle scheduled on my phone, so, you’re not leaving this room for the next three days.” 

“I didn’t want to, Mr. Kennedy.” 

You are leaving town for college. As someone who’s in their early twenties, it was time for you to step out of your comfort zone and start a new life of your own. You got accepted to a decent college, but knew no one there which made the whole moving situation scary. It was going to be hard, for sure.

Your mother married a man, Leon. He is your new step-father. It's been 3 years since he moved in with you, but your bond is strong enough for you to see him as a father figure. Also, he’s disturbingly gorgeous. You can’t even look him in the eyes without going crazy. Maybe sunglasses will do?

You have a stupid fucking crush on him. No need to deny it. You don’t know why you keep on crushing on impossible men, but here you go honey, your step-dad…

When he gives you a goodnight kiss on your cheek you shamefully rub your clit thinking about other places he could kiss you. Maybe suck your neck, leaving marks on you. Claiming you as his own. Gosh. It’s very wrong… and you’re fully aware of the fact that you should stop looking at him like that.

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

After packing your bags you knocked on Leon’s office to say your goodbye. You won’t see him again until the first term ends. You’re gonna miss him a lot.

“Dad, I’m leaving now. Mum’s in the car waiting for me.” You muttered quietly.

Leon quickly stood up and opened his arms “Come here, honey.” His voice was warm, comforting. He gave you a smile, which made your heart do something.

You rushed into his arms hugging him for the last time, inhaling his toxicating scent. “I’m going to miss you…”

He gave a kiss on your head “Me too, so much.”

“Dad, I don’t want to go…” You tilted your face enough to look at his poisonous blue eyes. They made your cheeks flush. “…I want to stay”

“Honey, it’s for your future. You know you can always visit home.”

Your eyes started to get blurry, your chest tightened. “But… I don’t want to leave you.” Finally the first tear dropped down your cheek.

He swiped it with his fingers. “I’ll call you, every night.”

“Dad. You don’t understand…” you pulled away from him and started sobbing. “You’re really clueless.” You were getting desperate. You wanted to spill everything out, but couldn’t. He was just staring at you, somehow not surprised by your attitude, like he knew what you meant by ‘clueless’. Like he knew everything that has been going on inside your head. “Fuck you!” You spit out, took your bag from the ground and rushed to the door while sobbing. You didn’t want this to be your goodbye.

Unexpectedly, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you back into the room before you could leave. His grip was firm. “Shh… I know everything,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin.

“What…”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” He lowered his head, lips brushing your ear. “I’ve been playing dumb this whole time, for your sake. But fuck, do you have any idea what you do to me? Eye-fucking me every single day like that… Also, I’m a light sleeper, sweetie. And your bedroom wall is not soundproof, I can hear you moaning ‘dad’.”

You froze, heart hammering, unable to breathe, let alone speak.

“You have two options,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “We keep on playing the dad and daughter… or I give you a goodbye gift you’ll never forget. How’s that sound?”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively. The heat of his words sent a shiver racing down your spine. “I’ll… choose the gift then,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.” He released you slowly, stepping back with a glint in his eyes. “Get on the desk.”

You obeyed, heart racing as you perched on the edge.

“Spread your legs for me.”

Heat flooded your face, but you did as he asked, opening for him.

He purred in approval, stepping between your thighs. “So obedient.” His hands slid up your skirt, slowly dragging your soaked panties down your legs. When he saw how drenched you were, a dark chuckle escaped him. “Look at you… already dripping for me. Such a needy little thing.”

He tossed the panties aside, then pushed your skirt up around your waist. His fingers found your slick folds, teasing your swollen clit with slow circles. The pleasure hit instantly.

“Dad— Daddy…” you moaned, hips twitching.

“Mmm, that’s it.” He kept stroking you, building the rhythm, then slid two thick fingers inside your aching pussy, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. “How’s that, baby?”

“So good… fuck,” you gasped, gripping his biceps as your head fell back. Your walls clenched around his fingers while he worked you steadily, rubbing your clit with his thumb in perfect sync. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, spreading through your belly, your thighs, your chest… Waves that made your breath come in desperate pants. Your legs trembled around him as the pleasure deepened, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge.

He watched you intently “Come on, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart.”

The coil finally snapped. A sharp cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Powerful waves that made your pussy flutter and squeeze around his fingers. Your whole body shuddered as you rode it out, moaning daddy like a prayer.

“Such a good girl,” he praised softly, stroking you through the aftershocks with gentle, soothing movements. “So fucking beautiful when you come for me.”

“…I need you inside,” you whispered, still breathless, reaching for him.

He shook his head with a smirk on his lips. “No, sweetie. We don’t have time.” He slowly withdrew his fingers, then lifted your chin with his other hand. “Open.”

You parted your lips obediently. He slid his glistening fingers into your mouth, and you sucked them clean with hungry strokes of your tongue, tasting yourself on him.

When he finally pulled them free, he crushed his mouth to yours in a messy, desperate kiss. Your tongues tangling, sharing your taste. He pulled back just enough to brush his thumb over your swollen bottom lip.

“Think about this when you miss me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Now go. You’re late.” He gave your ass a light slap as you slid off the desk which made you giggle.