I started marking my stories with either a ☁️ for fluff/no sex, 📖 story, or a 🔞 for sex scenes/smut.

No minors if you see 🔞

Works that are on Tumblr and Ao3 (linked to both)

Resident Evil

Hello, Gorgeous FemReaderXLeon S Kennedy Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Current Status: Complete ✅

No Matter the Mission, Please Come Back Home FemReaderXChris Redfield Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Current Status: Complete ✅

Girl Dinner FemReaderXLeon S Kennedy Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Current Status: Complete ✅

Smoking Ride FemReaderXChris Redfield Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Current Status: Complete ✅

What A Treat Chris RedfieldXFemReaderXLeon S Kennedy Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Current Status: Complete ✅

Pokémon ZA

Corbeau - My Little Foxglove FemReaderXCorbeau Home Office Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 I Just Want to Make Love To You Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Morning Alarm Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Late Night Dinner Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Current Status: WIP

Steel Types are Weak to Fire FemReaderXPhilippe Chapter 1 Ao3/Tumblr ☁️ Chapter 2 Ao3/Tumblr ☁️ Chapter 3 ☁️ Chapter 4 ☁️ Chapter 5 🔞 Current Status: Completed ✅

Steel Types are Weak to Fire - BONUS Chapters FemReaderXPhilippe O’Soleil ☁️ Branded Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Chiffon Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Billiards Ao3/Tumblr 🔞 Little Ones Ao3/Tumblr (small 🔞 scene) Current Status: Complete ✅

There’s Something Intriguing About You CorbeauXPhilippe Ao3/Tumblr ☁️ Current Status: Complete ✅

A Forgotten Promise FemReaderXL (Lysandre) Ao3/Tumblr ☁️🔞 Current Status: Complete ✅

Close Combat FemReaderXPhilippe Episode 1 Ao3/Tumblr 📖 Episode 2 Ao3/Tumblr 📖 Episode 3 ☁️ Ao3/Tumblr Episode 4 ☁️/📖 Ao3/Tumblr Epiosde 5 ☁️/📖 Ao3/Tumblr Episode 6 ☁️/📖 Ao3/Tumblr Episode 7 Part 1 📖 Ao3/Tumblr Episode 7 Part 2 🔞 Ao3/Tumblr Current Status: WIP

Below are fics that are only on Ao3 - Not sure if I will cross post these...

✨Crumbs/Head Cannon Tag (not all crumbs get posted to Ao3 out of pure laziness...)

Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West

Need To Know Aloy/Nil little bit of Aloy/Avad  Chapter 1 ☁️ Chapter 2 ☁️ Chapter 3 🔞 Chapter 4 ☁️ Chapter 5 ☁️ Chapter 6 ☁️ Current Status: On Hiatus - Unfortunately lost interest as it was following the story line too much and I wasn’t feeling as creative with it. 

HunterXHunter

Selfishness Is A Double Edged Sword  FemReaderXGing Chapter 1 ☁️ Chapter 2 ☁️ Chapter 3 🔞 Chapter 4 ☁️ Chapter 5 ☁️ Current Status: WIP - I know I’ll rewatch HunterXHunter sometime this year and will come back to it. 

Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess

It All Happens Under Twilight FemReaderXTwilightLink Chapter 1 ☁️ Chapter 2 ☁️ Chapter 3 ☁️ Chapter 4 ☁️ Chapter 5 ☁️ Current Status: WIP - yes I am actively working on this one I just keep getting distracted...

Pokémon ZA

Warnings/Tags - SMUT, Double Vaginal Penetration, Choking, Oral, Penetration, Explicit Language, Leon being an ass also we ride like Leon in Requiem as its questionable if i proofread this.

“No, the case is growing cold, I’m not sure what other options we have left. Feels like everything is running dry.” You make your way over to an open seat at the bar. “I’ll keep investigating but listen,” you sigh, “we’re heading into territory that we don’t have access to.” You smile at the bartender as he looks your way, “So, the smart thing to do would be to get us access and then we can keep going. Deal?” You shake your head before saying your goodbyes on the phone.

“I feel like you could use a drink, miss.” The bartender was now in front of you

You chuckle as you lay your phone down on the bar, “That’s just the beginning of what I need.”

“Bad day?”

You slowly begin removing your coat, “Day? More like week when you work with incompetent…” you pause, and then decide to say it, “men.”

The bartender chuckles and you pick up on the gentleman next to you letting out a little snicker. Out of agreement, maybe?

“Well then, sounds like you need something strong.”

You smile, “Now that- is the smartest thing I’ve heard all week.” You scan over the wall, taking in the bottles as you toyed with what you wanted this evening. And then you see it, “Second shelf, third bottle in, double please, one rock.”

The bartender gives you a nod and turns to take off to get you your drink.

You take a moment to get yourself comfortable in the barstool, moving to let your jacket hang on the back as you settle in. Your body letting go of a heavy sigh before you reach for your phone.

“Men, right?” You feel your ears perk up to the voice, and as your head turns you take in the man sitting next to you.

Your eyes scan over him for a second, and when he turns his face to yours you find your lips letting way to a small smile. For, well, not half bad on the eyes. You nod to him, “Yeah, always giving me a headache, especially the two assigned to my intel right now.”

The man chuckles, “I could say the same about women.” And you smile as you let out an amused huff, your head nodding as you agree with him a bit.

The bartender was back with your drink and after he sets it down, you smile, “Thanks dear.” He nods and makes his way to another customer.

The man raises his drink over to you, letting it hang in the air as he tips it slightly your way. You smile and nod as you let your glasses give away to a quiet ‘clink’.

“To those who give us headaches.” You chuckle

The man smiles as he pulls away his glass, nodding at your statement. “Name’s Leon.” He says as he brings his glass to his lips.

You give him your name before following in his movements. Letting the strong, warm, slightly abrasive liquor run down your throat.

“So, investigator I take it?” Leon sets down his drink; his fingers still wrapped around the glass as he turns his face back to yours.

You hum as you were still pushing down your last sip, “Perceptive.”

Leon smiles, “Thanks. Private, FBI, or…”

You lean yourself back into the chair, Leon’s eyes following, “Lets go with private.” You smile at him, your head tilting slightly as you meet your eyes with his.

Leon chuckles, “I see. So, you must’ve been hired for contract work if you’re working with incompetent men.” Leon smiles, “And if I recall, the FBI is full of them.” Leon shakes his head as he takes another sip.

You feel your eyebrows shifting up higher, your eyes growing wide, “You a stalker or something?”

Leon laughs after pushing down his last sip, “How did I go from being perceptive to stalker? Was I that on the nose?”

You take another sip as you bring your body back up to the bar, “A bit…”

Leon notices the little shift in the mood, your shoulders growing a little tense, “DSO.”

“DSO? What on earth are you here for?” Your shoulders start relax as that piece of the puzzle helps you understand how he could’ve come to that conclusion about yourself.

Leon shrugs, “Your best guess is mine.” He takes another sip, this time moving his face to look forward.

You hum as you go back for another drink. And when you pull your glass away you find yourself gently swirling the liquor, your eyes taking in the way it moves before you.

Leon readjusts himself in his chair, his arm brushing up against yours, “Sorry.”

You hum, “No harm done.” And this time you roll your head over to him, your eyes taking in his appearance again. And while you let your eyes wonder over him you notice the way he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

You smile, “So tell me Leon, what’s it like working for the DSO?”

Leon smiles at the little redirection you put into place, “Thrilling.” He says in a flat tone.

“Thrilling?” You smile up against your glass before taking another sip, “You sure? Your tone is saying something much different.”

Leon puts his arms on the bar, his one elbow now in your space as he lets out a deep breath, “It keeps me on my toes, but fuck-” his voice trails off when you both hear his phone ringing, “Sorry, one second.” He answers, “Hey…yeah I’m just at the hotel bar…where are you?...oh I see…for a bit…yeah I can wait…ah no, not alone…” Leon looks over at you with a smile, “more the merrier…okay…sounds good.” And with that his conversation was over.

Leon looks over to his left and then his right past you, “Hey, can you put your bag on that chair.”

You tilt your head, but listen as you slowly set down your work tote in the chair, “For?”

“We might have a joiner.” Leon smiles at you

“We?” You give him a playful look as you take another sip.

Leon chuckles, “He’s good company, promise.”

You roll your eyes, “Then next round is on you.”

Leon finishes his drink and raises his hand to wave down the bartender, “Same thing then?”

You chuckle, “Oh why not.”

-

The conversations between you and Leon were fluid. It was quick for you two to turn away from talking about work to just other common topics. And that was nice, something you enjoyed after the week you’ve had.

And in the mist of another conversation, you watch as Leon leans into you, his arm reaching behind you on the chair as he grabs for your bag, “Right here big guy.” Your breath catches for a second as Leon was just inches away from you before you turned your head.

“Well…shit…” you say to yourself as you take in Leon’s joiner.

“Sorry I took a bit…” his voice was rough, yet, comforting as he spoke those couple of words.

Leon lifts your bag around the back of the chair before setting it back down on the ground, “Jesus, how much shit do you carry around? This could be a weapon all by itself.” He shakes his head at you, his face still up close to yours.

You smile as you raise your eyebrows quickly, “Just the necessities.” And for a split second your eyes shift down to his lips before Leon’s joiner’s voice brings you back as he orders a drink from the bartender. But Leon notices and you catch a sly smile on his face.

“So, Leon, still shit with introductions I see.” The man smiles as he looks at you.

Leon clears his throat, “Oh yeah, sorry-” But before he could finish you offer the man your hand and introduce yourself.

He smiles as he takes in your hand, wrapping his fingers around it in a way that he could pull it to him, a soft kiss planted on the back of it, “Chris.”

You leave your hand in his for a while longer, “Well you’re already off to a better start then this one over here.” You look over your shoulder, Leon now rolling his eyes.

Leon huffs, “So, what took you so long.” You find Leon still over close to your arm as he peers around you. His other arm now resting on the back of your chair.

Chris lets go of your hand as he moves to grab his drink, “Typical BSAA shit.”

You shoot a look to Leon, his eyes catching yours before you look back over to Chris, “BSAA?”

Chris just nods.

“So, you’re telling me that I am somehow in the middle of a BSAA and DSO agent?” you shake your head before turning yourself back into your chair. Your body now facing the bar.

Leon, still close, smiles, “I know what a treat.”

You roll your eyes before reaching for your glass, “More like I have a hunch that we are all here for the same thing…”

Chris raises an eyebrow at that comment, “Is that so?”

You hum, your eyes still on Leon, “Unfortunately my information is classified, but I have a feeling…” you turn your face over to Chirs, “that this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

While you don’t catch it, Leon shoots a look over to Chris, a quick head tilt in your direction, before pulling himself back. Chris smiles and nods, his smile growing all without your knowledge.

Now with the addition of Chris there was a bit more structure to your conversations. But still, everything was fluid, flowing, nothing feeling forced as you three conversed together.

But as the liquor disappeared from your glass you decided to call it.

“Well, while I would love to stay, I should be a responsible adult and call it a night.” You turn to Chris, “Pleasure,” you offer your hand again and he takes it without hesitation.

“All mine.” He says as he brings it back to his lips. The back of your hand taking in his slightly rough lips again.

You let out a soft huff but instead of saying anything you just smile. Your eyes taking in his.

You look back over your shoulder, “I must admit, he is good company.”

Leon shakes his head and chuckles, “Yeah, Romeo over there always loves to steal my thunder.”

You laugh as you slowly take your hand back, your eyes meeting Chris’s again. And as you stand up you notice Leon doing the same.

“Now that he’s done, how about I escort you to your room.” Leon throws his coat back on.

You smile, “Well not sure what I did to get this attention, but why not. Haven’t been escorted in years.”

Leon waits for you to grab your bag and coat before wrapping his arm around you.

You shutter a little, “Confident aren’t we.”

He leans into you, “Need to make sure you get back safe.”

You chuckle, “Oh didn’t know I was a damsel in distress or something.”

Leon grips tighter on your waist as he begins guiding you out of the bar. But after a couple of steps, he leans down next to your ear, “Sorry, I forgot to tell Chris something. I’ll be right back.”

And before you could take in the sensation of him being right up next to you, he was gone. Your body swaying slightly as you came to.

Leon wraps an arm around Chris, “What do you say?”

Chris hums, “Get her comfortable first.”

Leon smiles, “Yes is easier to say big man.”

Chris rolls his shoulder getting Leon to take his arm back, “You know my rules. Nothing forced.”

Leon slaps his back before resting his hand there, “Yeah I know.”

But before Leon could pull away Chris turns back a bit, “But…do let me know if you end up saying something stupid to her that makes her turn you down.”

Leon clicks his tongue, “Fuck you.”

And as Leon makes his way back to you his ears pick up Chris’s words, “Only if the night goes right.”

-

The ding from the elevator brings you back. And as you watch the door slide open you are reminded of Leon’s hand still resting on your waist. His hold light as he stands there next to you.

And after the doors slide completely out of sight you feel a gentle push as Leon guides you out of the elevator.

“So what room is yours?” You can feel him looking down at you but instead of looking back up to him you tilt your head away from him playfully, his eyes able to take in more of your face.

“This one,” you point towards a door. And when you bring your hand back you open your bag to grab your key card.

You feel Leon take back his hand, the presence of him slowly becoming lighter as he moves back a bit.

You turn yourself around, “Well thank you for everything this evening. It was nice to meet you, and your friend.” You sigh, “But as you probably know, cases don’t solve themselves.”

Leon chuckles, “Isn’t that the truth.”

You smile. And as you start to turn so you can scan the card, you feel Leon’s presence again. You look down and notice his one foot now in between yours, his body up close to yours as he lowers his head. His warm breath kissing your ear as he begins to speak.

“Tell me something.” Leon keeps himself close, his eyes shifting down to yours, “Earlier, at the bar, I caught you looking at me,” he moves his head so it’s in front of yours. And before you could even think you found yourself looking at his lips again. He smiles, “Yeah just like that. Why?”

You feel your body growing warmer as he keeps you pinned up next to your door. But instead of feeding into that warmth your eyes slowly shift up to his. A smile now on your lips, “Curiosity.”

“Curiosity?” Leon places a hand on your waist. His body moving closer to yours.

You chuckle, “Huh, not very perceptive right now are we.” And when your eyes fall back down to his lips you make the first move. Leon letting out a hum to the connection. His hand on your waist gripping down as he presses into you.

And after a bit Leon pulls back, “Should we continue in there?” Leon looks up at the door, and you nod. A quick scan of your card now granting you both access into your room.

Leon doesn’t give you time to do anything. For once the door shuts, he’s back on you. His kisses a bit rough as he guides you through the room.

“Leon slow down.” You chuckle through the kisses.

“Why? Can’t keep up?” Leon kisses down your neck. His hand pushing down on the tall collar of your turtleneck. His fingers pressing a bit into your neck as he holds down the thick material.

You let out a hum to the sensation. Leon giving one right back after yours kissed his ears.

You feel the back of your knees hit the mattress. Leon successfully getting you over to the bed. And as they buckle Leon slowly helps guide you down on the mattress. His lips still on you as he lets them trail over your exposed skin.

Once your back hits the bed you feel Leon’s fingers gripping at the bottom of your sweater. His hands pulling at the fabric.

You place your palms on his chest, “Leon slow down.”

Leon stops. His fingers pulling back a bit as he moves his head above yours, “You okay?”

You take in a little bit of the fabric on his shirt, “I’m fine. Just- slow down a little. We have all night.” You smile at him, “Don’t we?”

Leon smiles as he pushes out a bit of air. One of his hands coming close to your face as he moves away a couple of strands, “Yeah, yeah, we do.”

You hum, “While I do enjoy the enthusiasm, I prefer to go slow, enjoy what’s in front of me rather than speed through it.” You let your hands run down his chest, your fingers taking in what was underneath the thin, tight, fabric. A pleased hum leaving your lips.

Leon presses his lips into yours again, slower, deeper this time.

You let out a soft moan against the connection. Leon moving one of his hands to your waist as his other keeps him propped up.

You take in his jacket, pulling down on either side of the opening. Leon smiling at the motion as he brings himself closer to you. His kisses slower, but still with the same fever as before. His hand that was on your waist now holding the side of your face as he tilts it back a bit. Giving him a better angle of your lips.

You take a deep breath when he pulls away for a split second. Your hands gripping down tighter on his jacket. But after a bit you let go as your hands move up his chest only to snake around his neck so you could pull him in more.

Leon chuckles up against you as he pulls back a little, “I don’t know about you, but it’s getting very warm with all this clothing on.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Well that’s what happens when you try to move quickly. You forget steps.” You push at Leon’s chest.

“Oh yeah?”

Leon was now standing at the edge of the bed, your upper body now back up, “Yeah.”

You curl your fingers around the edge of your sweater but before you could pull up you feel Leon’s hands on top of yours.

“Let me.” Your eyes carry up to his and as you let go of your sweater Leon was gently pulling it over your head. The whole gesture soft yet sparked with something you couldn’t quite pin down.

Leon tosses your sweater to the side, his eyes now taking in what he could see of your chest. But before he goes in for your bra, he starts removing his jacket. And then his belt. His shirt. And then finally, his jeans. And well, your eyes didn’t waver for one second as they took in everything.

“Lord what do they feed you at the DSO?” You were quick to your feet as you let your hands run all over his chest. Your fingers taking in the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Your breath catching when you would feel them tense up a little to your touch.

Leon grins loudly as he moves his face to the crook of your neck, “Coffee and donuts...” You feel his smile as he trails his kisses up your neck.

You laugh, “smartass…”

Leon hums as he continues kissing you. And as you move one of your hands to his bicep you feel yourself falling into him. Your thumb moving back and forth over his skin. You let go of a soft moan as Leon’s hands find their way to your back. His one hand making its way to your bra. And with just a simple tug from his fingers your bra unclasps easily.

You whisper, “Wow, one handed…”

Leon’s hand moves up front, his fingers taking in the center of your bra as he slowly pulls down, “Years of practice on that one.”

You move your arms down, the bra sliding off you easily. And once it hits the floor Leon takes one of your breasts into his hand. You let go of another moan to the touch. His palm pressed up firmly on your nipple as he guides you back down to the bed.

Leon begins peppering your neck with kisses as he moves his lips back up to your ear, “You know, you sure got along well with Chris at the bar.”

Your brows furrow for a second, “I mean, yeah, he’s – ah…” your voice trails off when you feel Leon take your nipple into his fingers.

“It’s just a suggestion, but we could turn this into a party if you’d like.” Leon pulls his head back, his eyes waiting to meet yours.

You open your eyes, your breathing slightly elevated while your mind works on piecing together what Leon said, “A…party?”

Leon smiles, “As I said earlier, Chris is very good company.” Leon leans down, his lips finding your cheek, “In more ways than one.”

Your next breath stutters a bit and after Leon pulls himself back up again you find yourself scrambling for words, “I mean…” Leon slowly takes your other breast into his hand, your eyes closing to the touch, “I mean…” you reach out and grab at one of Leon’s forearms, “I don’t do backyard parties, so do with that what you will.”

Leon smiles, “So is that a yes?”

You arch your back a bit to the pleasure from his hand, “Did you hear what I said?”

Leon hums, “I did, and that’s fine, as there are other ways we can attend this party. Together.” Leon leans back down, “So…what do you say?” Leon slowly moves his hand down to the top of your slacks, his fingers skimming over your waistband.

“Both of you-”

“All focused on you.”

You look back up to Leon, his eyes dark as he takes in your expression. And as you lay there, his hand working on opening your pants you feel your hips roll. Your mind now thinking about the two. And you nod. Small, yet confident. “Yes.”

Leon smirks, his voice going low, soft, up next to you, “Mmm, well aren’t you somethin’…”

He pushes himself up from the bed, his body quickly taking him over to his phone. You see the device light up as he taps on the screen for a bit. A smile on his lips as he goes to set it back down.

“Where’s your keycard?” Leon looks back at you

“My bag.”

Leon nods and sifts through your things before finding the card. And soon all you hear is the door opening and closing quickly.

Leon lets out a stretch as he makes his way back to the bed, your eyes taking in almost everything as his length was still covered by his briefs.

“Well then, knowing Chris he’ll take his time. So, while we wait…” Leon grabs your ankle, pulling you down on the bed, “I’ll enjoy my alone time with you.”

“Wait, what?”

And soon you feel his fingers curl around your waistband as he slides off your work pants - your underwear following in the movements. Leon carelessly tossing them to the side. Your body now fully exposed before him.

Leon grabs at your hips and pulls you down farther on the bed. Your ass just right at the edge before you see him slowly kneel.

“Leon…what did you-” You take in a sharp breath

Leon hums as he runs his finger up your slick folds, “Yeah…you’ll be perfect tonight.” And soon you feel him part them, his face moving closer to your center.

And as you close your eyes your hands find the bed, your fingers taking in the blanket as his tongue presses into your bud. His hands now on either side of your waist as he grounds you into him.

You rest your heels on his back. His tongue taking in all that he could of you as he worked his way pleasuring your bud. Your body slowly giving way to him as your hips roll slightly.

“Leon…fuck…” you try to take in more of the blanket. Your back arching slowly.

Leon hums and you feel it vibrate through your whole body. His face pushing more into your fatty folds as he loses himself down there. You hear it in the way he’s breathing, taking in you as he continues. His continuous circles paired with a little bit of pressure as he solely focuses on your bud. Pulling back just enough so he can take it with him.

“L-Leon…” you whimper

Leon releases your bud, his one hand coming down so he can continue his motions on you as he spoke, “What is it? Feels good with me down here?”

You let out a breath through your smile, your head nodding into the mattress, “Yes, but I need more. More of you.”

Leon smirks, “Is that so?”

You let out a whine.

“But I thought we had all night? Didn’t want to rush anything?” Leon moves his other hand down, two fingers finding your entrance.

You chuckle, “You are such a shit…”

Leon smiles, “Yeah, I’ve been told that before.” He moves his middle and ring finger inside of you, your back arching immediately to that feeling, “But you know, it would be nice if you got off for me before Chris gets here. Do you think you can do that, gorgeous?”

You nod, another whimper leaving your lips.

And as Leon makes his way in between your legs, again, he leaves behind a trail of kisses on your thigh. Each one warm as he inches closer. The last one met with a little nip that causes your leg to jolt under the sharp contact.

Leon’s hand moves away from your bud, his tongue replacing its movements as he presses down into you. His fingers curling inside of you as he aims to get you off. Your moans growing in not only volume but also in numbers as your fingers grip down tightly into his hair.

And as Leon continues your ears pick up on a soft click. A door maybe? And clearly Leon’s did to as he picked up his pace. The moan leaving you this time coming from deep within your chest as you pushed yourself into the mattress.

And then you hear a chuckle. Low. Knowingly. And with that, your eyes open.

Chris was here, his eyes taking you in as Leon continued down below. You watch as he removes his clothes. His eyes glued to you as he watches everything unfold. The way your fingers were now griping down tightly into Leon’s hair, your legs moving about slightly over his shoulders, the way Leon presses himself into you more, his moans filling the room as he finger fucked you. And finally, the way your center was about to give way to a release.

You were close, your center tightening up under Chris’s gaze. And slowly he makes his way to the bed, the mattress dipping as he moves in closer to you.

“Well, aren’t you lovely.” His hand slowly pushing back some of your hair. He talks to you in a hushed tone, “Leon likes it when you say his name. Think you can do that?”

Your nod, your eyes still on Chris when you feel it. It was blooming in your center. The warmth growing fast. And then it was here, your eyes closing as you focus solely on that feeling. You back pushing away from the mattress as you let it crash over you.

“Oh, fuck Leon,” you find yourself having to catch your breath, “Leon…” you moan softer this time.

Chris smiles at you, “Isn’t he good when his mouth is occupied.”

You moan again as you try to let out a laugh. Your body taking in your release as it washes over you. And after the crash you smile at Chris, your eyes now on him as you ride yourself back down.

Leon clicks his tongue at Chris while you move yourself to your elbows. And after a beat your eyes move back down to Leon as you watch him crawl over you, his lips trailing up your body as he leaves kisses behind. “First, he takes his time, then comes in here talking shit. All when I got you all primed and ready to go. Not very fair is it.” Leon smiles at you, “But regardless…” Leon wraps one of his hands around your waist, “I can already tell that this is going to be a very fun evening tonight.”

Chris hums before placing his fingers on your chin. A light pull bringing your face back to his. And before Leon could beat him, Chris’s lips were on yours.

He was gentle at first. The kisses light as he took you in. But when you break away to catch your breath a small moan leaves your lips as Leon works his way to one of your breasts. His mouth taking in your nipple. And through that sound Chris let’s go of a low, guttural hum as he looks at you.

Your ears catch it immediately and you see Chris’s eyes shift to something darker as he pulls you back in. This time that gentle touch he had before was now hungry. Rough. As his lips press into yours. And then you feel it. His tongue running along your lips, begging for them to open. And that causes you to fall into him, your mouth letting him enter as your tongues danced right up next to each other.

Chris catches you making sure you stay close as he deepens his connection. And when you feel like you were about to crumble completely, he pulls away. His lips coming close to your ear as he moves to hold your face. His hand now cupping your cheek.

He runs his thumb over your lips, “I’d love to see what else these lips could do.” He pulls back a bit, your eyes falling back to his.

You chuckle softly, “And so would I.” Your eyes falling. Clearly making note that you wanted him next on your lips.

Leon slides his arm under you, your body moving away from the bed as he makes space for Chris. But as you’re being guided up Leon takes this moment to take back your lips. His hands pressing into your back as he brings you close to him. Your bodies flush against each other, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you let him handle you.

He pulls back a bit, “So, now that we are all here, let’s get some responsible questions out of the way, shall we?”

You pull back even more from Leon, a slightly confused look on your face.

“Chris, clean?” Leon looks over your shoulder.

Chris smiles, “That I am, recently checked too, and you Leon?”

Leon looks back down to you, “Still as clean as a whistle.”

You smile as you close your eyes, a wave of warmth flowing over you as you should’ve asked this earlier, but relieved you three are doing this now.

You look back up to Leon, your arms still draped over his shoulders, “Clean, and protected.” You brush back his hair slightly. His eyes closing to the touch.

Leon hums, “And with that piece of information what are you comfortable with? Would you like us to use anything?”

“I…” you look at Leon again, and then turn your head back to Chris, a confident couple of nods coming from you, “I want to feel everything tonight. And I mean…everything.”

You see Leon’s eyes grow wide, his hands on your back gripping down into you more, “Well then…how about we get this party started?”

Leon lets go of you and you find yourself turning around on the mattress. Your focus going back to Chris. And as you work to get to your knees you take in Chris. His back resting flush on the headboard as he waited for you. Your eyes trailing down his body until you were met with…him.

On all fours you slowly make your way in between Chris’s legs, his length waiting for you. You raise your eyebrows once while a side smile washes over your face, for, well, he was going to be a bit to handle.

Chris reaches his hand out, his fingers finding your chin as he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Be sure to let us know if anything is not to your liking. Unlike your incompetent coworkers, we listen.”

You smile as you let out a huff of air, “I will be sure to voice my concerns…if there are any.”

Chris smiles and nods as he lets go of your face. Your eyes now carrying down his body as they make their way to his length again.

You lean down, your ass in the air as you take Chris’s length into your mouth. His legs buckling slightly to your touch. And as you slowly adjust to him you feel Leon’s hands on your hips. His fingers gripping down in your soft skin.

You find yourself almost lost on Chris’s length as you focus on creating as much pleasure as you can for him. Your lips tight around him as you bobbed your head up and down at a steady pace. And after you felt as though you were in a good groove, you feel Leon.

Your eyes open when you feel something slide up your folds. Then back down. He was teasing you a little as your mouth was occupied. You let out a hum on Chris’s length and that causes Chris to push out a moan as he enjoys your mouth on him.

You can’t see it, but Leon is wearing a wicked smile on his lips as he lines himself up with you. And after another rise and fall of his tip in your folds you feel it. You take your mouth off Chris’s length as you feel Leon enter you. He was slow, yet impatient as you listened to his breathing.

You find yourself having to split your focus as you keep your hand on Chris, your motions the same as your mouth, all while taking in the full feeling Leon was giving you by being inside of you. For while you never struggled with multitasking, this one was new to you.

“Leon…” you close your eyes as you take him in. The stretch, the fullness it was all that you wanted and well, more, as you open your eyes to see Chris looking at you with a smile on his face.

A wave a heat rushes over you as, yeah, here you are, in the middle of a DSO and BSAA agent, and well, fuck, it sure was a treat.

Leon keeps his tempo slow, as if he was savoring you, which gave you what you needed to go back down on Chris. And as you moved, Leon moved, the both of you following the same rhythm.

You pull in your cheeks, gripping down tighter on Chris as you take in as much as you can. Your hand down at his base making sure that part wasn’t neglected.

And soon you feel Chris’s hips roll to your movements. His fingers slowly taking in the sheets as he pushes his head back into the headboard.

“Oh fuck…” Your eyes carry up to Chris as you watch him take in the pleasure.

But before you could watch him any longer you feel Leon’s pace growing. His thrusts filling you completely with his length as his fingers gripped down tighter.

You go to move your hands, getting yourself in a better position to take in Chris when he places his hands on your head, his hips moving into you, slowly, but with a bit of fever behind them.

“You got this…” Chris lowers his head as he continues to slowly fuck your mouth. And with those words you find yourself gripping down more on him with your lips.

“Fuck…yeah that’s it…”

Leon takes a moment to look over to Chris, a smile wiping over his lips as he sees him getting lost in you. He lets out a single chuckle, “Well what a sight,” Leon thrusts into you hard, your body falling a little as you let out a moan on Chris’s length, “taking us both so well.”

Chris lets out a little huff, “You know Leon, why do you always ruin the rhythm?” You feel Chris’s hips slow his hands coming to guide you off his length as he holds your head in his hands.

Leon laughs, “To piss you off.”

Chris looks down to you, “Sorry about him.”

You laugh as you feel Chris wipe away the tears that collected in the corners of your eyes. Soon a pull comes from him as he brings you up to him. Leon letting go of you as he lets himself slide out. You let out a small, disappointed hum when you feel it. Your body no longer filled with him.

“Oh?” Chris pulls your face up to his.

You feel your face grow warm as your eyes meet, a snide smile now on his lips.

“You want more?”

You nod in his hold, his eyes growing darker with each one.

“Leon, make yourself useful and get what’s in my coat pocket.” Chris doesn’t wait for an answer as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips taking you in with a bit of force. The moan that leaves you loud as it fills the room. “Mmm, you want us that badly?”

You press your lips into his more as you nod, your body growing a bit impatient to the pause that’s happening.

Chris chuckles as he moves you over him. Your legs on either side as he slowly moves you two down on the bed. You find yourself sitting yourself up more only for him to bring you down again, your chest up next to his.

“Then how about we give you what you want…” You feel his hand grab for his length as he lines himself up with you. Its girth stretching you a bit more than Leon. And as he rolls his hips into you a couple of times, his length filling you, you feel something cold. Slick.

And then you hear the soft click of something, only for Leon’s hands on your waist to follow.

“We’ll go slow, okay?”

You look down to Chris who was still moving himself in and out of you slowly when you nod, his hips now coming to a stop.

You take in a sharp breath when you realize where Leon was going. Right where Chris already was. And soon your ears take in Chris’s groan as he also feels Leon.

Your fingers grip down on the sheets, your knuckles going white as Leon continues into you. The stretch nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It a bit sharp, yet quickly flooding you with pleasure. Chris watches your face closely. Your brows moving from furrowed to relaxed as you feel Leon entering you with Chris already inside. Your breathing catching at certain times only for you to let go of it in a slow, steady fashion.

And soon it was Leon’s soft kisses up your back that brought you back, “Look at you taking us both like this.” He hums, “You feel so good…fuck woman…”

You let out a huff of air, a smile on your face when you finally open your eyes again to look down to Chris.

“Just let us know when, okay?”

You nod, and you arch your back more, giving Leon an even better angle before looking back to him, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Leon grips down tightly on your hips as Chris grips down on your waist. And then, they both begin to move. At first together, their tempo the same as you rolled your head to the feeling. Your body so full you found yourself unable to focus on anything else. Your arms shaking a bit as you tried to keep yourself up.

Chris moves his hands up, a light push from him as he guides you down to his chest. Your head now in the crook of his neck as they both continue. You wrap your hand around the side of Chris’s face, your nails digging into him a bit as you find yourself growing more inebriated with each thrust.

“Fuck, you two…ah” You push your face into Chris’s more, “faster…”

Chris looks up to Leon with a smile and that shared tempo was no more as each of them went at their own pace. The two different paces causing your head to cloud.

“Fuck…” your voice carries in the room as you try to grip down more into Chris’s short hair. Your breathing picking up as you blend it with moans right up next to Chris’s ear.

Leon, feeling a little left out, reaches under you finding your bud. Your body jolting to the touch.

“Fuck Leon-” your back arching more as your voice grows even louder within the room.

Leon laughs but continues on your bud. You let out a sharp whiney moan as you feel your body at its tipping point. And the men notice, their paces growing even more. Chris’s hips hitting yours as he pushes everything into you, while Leon lets out a low groan, his thrusts growing as well.

“Come on be a good girl and finish for us.” You feel your arms shaking again as you tried to keep yourself propped up, but you were crumbling.

“I’m close…please…”

Chris this time moves his hand down to your bud, pushing Leon away as he does what he can to get you to your release.

Leon clicks his tongue, but quickly brings his hand back to your hips, his thrusts now growing a bit erratic as he fucks you deeply.

You whine, “I can’t fuck I can’t…” and then you let out a loud moan, one people could hear from the hall, when your body lets go and you release, it crashing hard over your entire body. “Oh fuck…”

Leon and Chris both fuck you through your release as they hold you down.

“Dammit woman, you feel so fucking goo-” And as you feel Leon’s fingers tighten more you hear it in his choppy, staggered breathing, that he was releasing within you.

But Chris, well he wasn’t there quite yet. He wraps his arms around your waist and rams himself into you as he works himself to climax.

You take in a sharp inhale, “Chris…” you hold onto your moan, dragging it out as he continues into you. You take in the sheets of the bed as you let the two keep riding out your high. And after a couple more deep, rough, thrusts Chris grips you tightly, a low moan leaving his lips as he empties himself inside of you.

Everyone was breathing loudly as the room worked on settling back down. This giving you three a moment to just stay there, close to each other.

Leon fingers hold you steady as he slowly pulls out, “Always gotta be the last one don’tcha Chris.” Leon hisses through his teeth as he works on removing himself. And that causes Chris to chuckle as he pulls you down to be flush on his chest. His hands moving up and down your back slowly.

“Hey,” he waits for you to look at him, “Good?”

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, “Never better.”

Leon smiles at that comment as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Chris kisses your shoulder, “Good, because that was,” Chris slowly pulls himself from you, “amazing. fuck…” Chris kisses your shoulder again once his length was finally out, his body letting go of a deep breath up next to you.

And as your body was taking in the post sex bliss you feel a hand on your shoulder, Leon’s grip pulling you away from Chris. You flop down onto the mattress, your eyes taking in Leon as you feel a warm towel below.

“Now that was most definitely my cardio for the week, shit…” you chuckle as Chris shakes his head, him now sitting on the edge of the bed.

Leon smiles, “You need to shower or anything?”

You take in a deep breath through your nose, “I mean I did fuck all during it, so didn’t build up too much of a sweat. And well…also…I’m not sure if I can stand.” You laugh with a bit of embarrassment behind it.

The two men laugh softly, and Chris turns back, “I mean you took both of us, Id say you did fuck all.”

You laugh, your eyes carrying back over to Leon, “So…is that it then? You two leaving now?”

The two men look at each other for a beat before Leon looks back down to you, “Well that’s up to you. We aren’t the biggest fans of just fucking and then leaving, but if you want that we will.”

You grip down on his bicep, “Stay…please.”

Leon leans down and kisses you, “Well when you ask us so nicely, how could we say no?”

Chris reaches back and grabs your other hand and smiles, “Just make sure someone stays on his side, or he’ll wake us both up with his snoring.”

You laugh as Leon rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t be talkin big guy.”

Chris smiles as he gets up, “Well ladies first, you do what you need to and get yourself comfortable. Then once you’re settled we’ll make this work.”

You follow Chris’s pull as he helps guide you from the bed. Your legs heavy when you stand, but your balance there. You feel Chris lean down, his lips briefly meeting yours before he slaps your ass softly getting you to head to the bathroom alone.

-

In the middle, the men lay down on either side of you. And as they roll closer you find yourself looking back and forth between the two of them.

“So…like…who do I-” you feel your brows furrowing on each other.

They laugh, “Doesn’t matter.”

“You sure?”

Leon rests his hand on your waist, his arm draped over your stomach, “No it doesn’t. But from experience I’ll let you know Chris is better at cuddling than I am.” He leans down to your ear, “You’ll fall asleep immediately in those guns of his.”

You chuckle, “From experience?”

Leon pulls back and smiles, Chris coming to cup Leon’s face as he pulls him in for a deep, tender kiss.

“Oh…are you two a couple?”

Leon smiles up against Chris’s lips, his head nodding.

And after Chris pulls back his leans down to you, “Married even.”

You smile at the new development, but then feel your brows furrow as you look over to Leon, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Leon shrugs, “You didn’t ask.”

Chris kisses your cheek as your eyes were still on Leon, “I didn’t ask? Well, it’s not like you gave me a chance to ask anything. If I recall I barely got a chance to breathe once that door opened.”

“Is that so?” Leon says in a joking tone.

Chris breaks away from your face, his upper body leaning up so he can grab for the blanket.

“I mean, I barely got my shoes off. And hell, we could’ve had like one other light on in here, but nooo someone couldn’t keep their hands off me.”

Chris laughs as he pulls the blankets over everyone.

“Me? You’re the one who made the first move.”

“Well yeah, I mean…who wouldn’t if given the chance.” You face folds on itself as you shake your head in a bit of panic.

“The chance?” Leon smiles as he settles into the pillow.

And before you can say anything else Chris turns you over, his arm pulling you in.

“Oh-”

His arm now wrapped around you as he lets his hand settle on your waist, “You two can continue this in the morning. Okay?”

You smile as you nuzzle into Chris, your free arm now draped over Chris’s chest, “Fine…night Leon.”

Leon sighs as he lifts himself up again, kissing you on the cheek and Chris on the lips, “Night.”

-

“Morning…” it was soft, and a little broken with sleep as you feel someone’s lips on your forehead.

You pull yourself into, who you thought was Chris, before opening your eyes.

“Oh, Leon.” You hum warmly, “Morning.” Your eyes filled with sleep as you tired to keep them open. “What time is it?”

Leon rubs his hand up and down your arm, “5:30”

You nod, “Hmm, okay…”

You feel Leon’s chest grow as he takes in a deep breath, your head and arm following in his movement, “What time do you need to be at work?”

You let out a displeased hum, “Not till 9. My meeting isn’t until 10, so I mean anytime in between then I guess…” You let out a yawn.

Leon nods, “Do you want coffee before then?”

You lift your head up a bit, your voice still soft, “That would be nice.”

Leon looks over to you, “What do you drink?”

You tilt your head slightly, “Americano, extra shot.” A warm smile now on your lips.

Leon smiles as he pulls you into him, “Alright, stay with Chris and I’ll go get us all something. Okay?” A soft kiss now on your lips as he holds you close for a bit.

But then you feel someone move behind you, their arm wrapping around your waist. A tug bringing you into them. And soon your back was flush against Chris’s body. His grip getting tighter as he pulls you in more.

“Missed my little heater.” He mumbles through his sleep filled voice.

You chuckle, “Morning Chris.”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble rough up against your skin, “Morning beautiful.”

Leon was now on the edge of the bed, his head shaking back and forth as he listened to Chris. He turns back, “Well looks like you’re in safe hands now, so I’ll be back. And don’t make me regret being nice this morning.” Leon catches Chris’s smug smile as he lifts himself from the bed.

And after the rustling of clothing Leon was now dressed, the click of the door leaving just you and Chris in the room.

“He might say stupid shit, but he is all about caring for other people.”

You roll your head over a little as Chris’s words catch you off guard for a second.

“Yeah?”

Chris nods into you, his grip growing loose as he lets his hand run all over your body. “He really loves pleasing people.” You soon feel Chris’s lips on your shoulder as he places gentle kisses on your skin. Each one is a little longer than the last.

“And you?” you feel your hips move back slightly to his touch. “Oh- and good morning…” you smile when you feel Chris’s hard length up against your back.

Chris moves to the crook of your neck, his breathing warm up against your skin, “Me? I only do that for people who I think deserve it.” He trails his kisses back up to your shoulder, “Like you for instance.”

Chris props himself up, his head now above yours, “How are you feeling?” His eyes trail over your body before they make their way back up to yours.

You smile, your eyes closing as you were still trying to battle sleep, “Never better…”

Chris gives away to a little amused huff as his hand continues over your body. His calloused fingers a bit rough as they skimmed over your skin.

You roll your hips back again, this time your eyes opening slightly to the movement. Chris lets out a hum, his fingers gripping down into you as he takes in a feeling.

“You know, Leon had his little one on one time with you last night, how about we make that even this morning?” Chris smiles.

You nod, “I’d like that.”

Chris leans down and peppers your shoulder again with kisses as he shifts himself lower, his length now in between your legs. “Just stay on your side, okay?”

You nod as you raise one of your legs up a bit.

You feel his tip at your folds, your body more aroused than even you were expecting this morning.

“Been thinking about something?” Chris teases as he starts to move his tip up and down your folds, your wetness getting him ready.

You reach your arm back, your hand reaching for the side of his face when you feel his tip slowly entering you. You lean your head back as you feel a soft moan leaving your lungs, “I- uh- oh fuck Chris…”

Chris rolls his hips slowly into you, his length filling you up this morning as he keeps his movements slow, steady, measured as if he was trying to savor the short time you two had together.

Chris’s free hand moves up to your breast as he takes it into his hold. His large warm hand pressing down on your breast as he gently grips it in his hand.

You let a low moan slip through your lips as you take in all this pleasure. Your hand curling more into his face as you let your nail drag over his skin. Your back arching away a bit as you let his length fill you with each thrust.

“Mmmm, yeah…you feel so good, beautiful.” Chris lets go of your breast, that hand coming up to grab your face as he pulls and turns it up to him. His lips catching the side of your mouth as he picks up his pace.

“You like it when two men fuck you?” Chris let’s go of a low moan up next to your ear

You hold in a whiney sound as you nod your head. His hips now snapping into yours at a faster rate.

“Mmmm yeah…I bet you do.” Chris pulls in a breath through his teeth and before he can close his eyes to continue, he feels your hand up against his. Your pull on it making him look at you. “What is it- oh…”

You move his hand to your neck. The size of his hand completely wrapping its way around your throat.

He hums, “Now this is a dangerous game to be playing here beautiful…” He thrusts into you a couple more time, “So I’ll play nice for now.”

You slide your hand down to your bud as he keeps his fast tempo into you. His fingers gripping down slowly on your throat. The pressure of them safe, nothing that would inhabit your breathing, but just enough to give you want you wanted.

“Gods your…” Chris slows his pace only to allow him to thrust harder, deeper, into you. “Your trouble aren’t you…ah fuck…”

Your breathing picks up when you feel the warmth begin below. It blooming at a rapid pace. Chris hand on your neck keeping your head up when all you wanted to do was let it hang as you focused on your center.

His fingers grip down just a bit more as he fucks you deeply.

And then you feel it, your moan loud as you push it out of you. Your hand quickly leaving your bud when you let it clamp down on Chris’s thigh, “Oh fuck Chris…”

This release was big, sharp, and making you very sensitive below. Chris loosens his grip on your neck when he lets himself go below. Each thrust loud as the sound of your bodies colliding begins to fill the room.

He pushes his forehead into the back of your head and then you hear it. His low, guttural groan as he rolls his hips slowly into you, his length pulsing inside. It releasing everything it had inside your walls.

“Fuck…well that’s one way to start the day.” Chris’s breathing was a bit erratic as he held you down by your hip.

You nod into the pillow, “Yeah…what a way…” You catch your breath, “A great way to start the day…”

Chris chuckles, his hand trailing all over your body as you two laid there for a bit.

-

It was almost 8:30 and you were just about ready. Leon and Chris had already left letting you go about your morning alone. As you walked out of the bathroom you slipped on your shoes, grabbed your work tote, and slowly made your way to the door.

“Oh-” your turn back, grabbing for your half drank coffee Leon picked up. “Lukewarm now, but still good…” you turn back and head out the door.

You were in a bit of a rush to make it to the office by 9 so when you walked through the front doors you missed Leon and Chris.

But the two didn’t miss you. They watched as you made your way down the steps, your phone to your ear as you walked your way down the sidewalk. The sway in your hips a bit more pronounced than usual. As if, maybe, you had a good evening last night.

Chris takes a drag from his cigarette as he watches you, Leon turning to look back at Chris.

“You fucked her this morning, didn’t you?” Leon takes a sip from his new cup of coffee.

Chris shoots Leon and look and shrugs, “Possibly.”

Leon shakes his head, “I leave for thirty minutes and miss out on morning sex…” He throws back a large sip of his coffee this time, “You two suck.”

Chris rests his hand on Leon’s shoulder, “What’s something stupid you’d say…snooze you lose.”

Leon scoffs as he takes his shoulder back, “Come on, lets go to this meeting…”

Chris laughs as he flicks off the butt of his cigarette, his strides following Leon.

-

“Here are the files. And, also, what you said last night, we will need higher access to get the information we need.”

You hum at your coworker, your fingers opening the file as you read over its contents.

“And that meeting you’re having at 10, it’s with two agents who can grant you that access.”

You look up to your coworker, “How convenient. Alright what office am I using?”

He points to the one in the corner, “I rented out that one for your meeting.”

You follow his point, your eyes carrying back to him with a nod, “Thanks. Send them in when they get here okay?”

He nods, “Understood.”

You set down your things, your face still stuck on what was in the folder. Your fingers lifting up different pages as you took in the new data your team gave you.

“Just right in here…”

You don’t look up yet as you were finishing the last paragraph on the page. And once your eyes hit the period you let them break away.

“What a coincidence to be seeing you both here…”

Chris and Leon smile.

“Told you this wouldn’t be the last we would see each other.” You hum as you chuckle a little behind your hand.

He's blond, with a jaw covered in stubble and tired eyes lined with dark circles. Older looking, too—too old to be in a place like this on Halloween, especially without a costume to add any whimsy and distract from how depressed he looks. He lurks in a shadowed corner of the room as he stares down at the wood of the bar. The shadows cast on his face from the dim light of the bar give him an almost gaunt look, only serving to make him look more tired and even older than he seems.

It's not long before he feels your gaze on him and nervously glances your way with those same sad eyes. They widen as he looks down at your (admittedly revealing) costume before quickly flicking away, face drawn tight in guilt. You can't exactly say you blame him; you'd be ashamed of yourself too if you were that old and still hanging out in bars full of college kids for you to ogle.

Still, he looks easy to funnel a few drinks out of and is even easier on the eyes.

You're not giving yourself up that easily, though. He seems quick to squirm under attention and you intend on doing just that. Like how you catch his eyes dropping down to your exposed legs more than once, or when you shoot him a quick little smile and he very nearly spills his drink in his surprise. Whether that shock came from you noticing him staring you down or the fact that you're—in a way—reciprocating that attention you aren't sure, but it shocks a laugh out of you that you quickly cover with your hand.

The first drink comes not long after you smile in his direction. You linger by the bar as you sip on it, peeking in his direction when you feel his eyes burning through you as you wait for him to approach. All you get in return, though, is another panicked glance away when you catch him making eyes at your legs again.

By the second drink, you've more than tired of the bashful act. The guy was clearly here for a reason—much like you—but obviously couldn't man up enough to come and get it. You close in on the man slowly but surely, skirting around the drunken revelry before you in an attempt to get to know the shadow of a man in the corner.

"You know," you start, sliding into the empty seat next to him. Your voice seems to startle him, his entire body jolting once he gets a whiff of your scent. He glances at you, unable to make eye contact in his anxiety, before quickly looking somewhere over your shoulder instead of at your face. "Most guys actually approach someone after buying them a drink."

"Well…" he shrugs, shoulders sagging in a way that gives off the demeanor of a man already defeated. 

He still won't look at you. You wait for him to continue, though nothing but silence falls between you two, made slightly less awkward only by the music and chatter surrounding the you both. Your eyes narrow playfully, bumping your shoulder against his in an attempt to get him to loosen up. He jumps like he'd just been shot at the gentle contact, eyes flitting down to where you'd just touched him and staring. You raise your hands in mock surrender, instead going to lean against the bar so they're in clear view and clearly not cooking up any surprise touches again.

At least not for now.

"What's a big guy like you doing in a place like this anyways?"

"I come here… often," the man says, giving you your first real taste of his voice. It's low and raspy and the warmth of it would curl somewhere deep in your gut if you didn't know he was lying to you. This bar was one you frequented, and you'd never seen him before. You'd recognize him too—he sticks out in this place like a sore, depressed thumb in all the excited buzz from college students.

"Well I've never seen you around here before," you pout, reaching out to rest a tentative hand on his forearm closest to you. He tenses, but doesn't pull away, instead staring down at the point of contact like it'd burned him. You lean closer, close enough to smell a hint of mint aftershave over the more powerful scent of petrichor and dusty books, and smile sweetly up at him. "And trust me, I would remember."

He glances warily at you at that comment, eyes squeezing shut as if he almost can't believe what he's hearing. After a moment of hesitation, he continues. 

"I guess I should say I did come here often," he says, clearing his throat. "Back in my college days."

You tilt your head to the side and your smile grows like it's the most interesting thing you've heard all night. Maybe it is. "And how long ago was that?"

"Almost two decades now," he says, shoulders sagging at the confession. Almost as if he knows how it looks for someone his age to be hanging around a place like this but he still can't bear to leave.

"Oh!" You exclaim, tapping your finger to your chin as if thinking hard on something. "I may as well have still been in diapers then."

Admittedly, the laugh that leaves you when his face falls is a bit mean spirited.

"Jesus, kid," he groans, hand coming up to cover his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he's got a headache coming on. 

The man looks mortified when he sees your face fall at the nickname, his cheeks flushing so brightly under your scrutiny you notice it even in the dim light of the bar as he downs the rest of his drink. You can't help but wonder how long it's been since someone's flirted with him considering his first course of action when obviously trying to get into your pants was to call you kid. You muse to yourself that he's lucky the nickname was doing wonders for you, watching as he sags forward heavily and rests his elbow on the bar. 

It's only then that you notice a mark on his ring finger, though the ring that seems to take residence there is suspiciously absent.

You're left wondering if that's why he seems so hesitant despite what he's clearly here for. Even if you don't intend on sleeping with a married man, it's not the worst opportunity you've ever had to get a few free drinks. If he is cheating on his spouse, you can at least bleed him dry before he has a chance to go sniffing around for someone who might indulge him. 

"Hey!" You exclaim in mock offense, moving to shove lightly at his shoulder. He allows the touch this time, letting you push him with surprisingly little effort. "This kid has a name."

You stick your hand out and introduce yourself, cocking your head to the side and waiting expectantly. His eyes flicker from your hand to your face before he eventually gives in, large hand wrapping around yours with ease. "I'm, uh… James. My name is James."

"Well, James," you say, hand releasing his only once you've stroked your thumb along his ring finger. His name comes out half purred from your lips. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, how about we celebrate with a drink or two?"

Your attempts might just be the most obvious thing in the world, but James eats them up all the same. He shoots you a despairing look even as he flags down the bartender and tells her to put whatever you order on his tab too. Fresh drink in hand, you angle your head towards him as your eyes rove across his side profile.

He's even more handsome up close than he was from afar, that you can't deny. Long eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks, and now that you're closer to him you can finally see his eyes are a pretty shade of green whenever he peeks at you from the corner of his eye like a nervous prey animal. Not to mention his jawline, sharp and covered in stubble that you can't help but want to run your fingers over to feel the scratch of.

The hand on his forearm drifts lower, closer to his hand. Towards his wrists, his green jacket has ridden up, allowing you to feel the slightest brush of his arm hair against your fingertips as you drag your fingers across his skin. James just stares down at your hand as if he can't believe someone is actually willing to touch him all the while.

It doesn't take long for guilt to eat at your conscience. Free drinks from a handsome older man or not, you don't want to come between a marriage. Your index makes its way over to his ring finger, tapping the tan line still prominent on his skin. 

"So, James," you practically coo at him. He shivers like it's his first time hearing his name when you say it. "I couldn't help but notice this. I'm not destroying a happy marriage, am I?"

James looks as if he might be sick. He shakes his head frantically, eyes wide as if it physically pained him to even think of that being a possibility. "What? No! Of course not. I'd—I'd never do that."

His hand slides out from under yours, falling to his side as he messes with the bottom of his jacket. You watch as his thumb rubs shaky circles against the fabric. Another uncomfortable silence falls between you before James finally spits out what's bothering him. "I… I had a wife. She died, though. I just—just wear the ring still." He fishes a golden wedding band out of the pocket of his jacket closest to his heart and turns it in the dark glow of the bar. "Occasionally. Not all the time."

Well, now you feel like an asshole. You're still 50/50 on if the guy is just giving you a sob story to try and get to you or if he's just trying to move on from his dead wife. You can always poke the bear and figure it out, you suppose. You hadalready gotten multiple free drinks out of him if things go sour.

"You sure your wife didn't just leave you?"

James's mouth falls open in shock, shouting No! so loud people on the other side of the bar snap their heads in your direction. "She'd never. We… We loved each other."

Okay, maybe you were an asshole. He's doing a pretty good job keeping up appearances if he is lying, and the downright pitiful way his voice just cracked almost pulls at your heartstrings.

"Sorry," you say, voice so soft James strains to hear you over the buzz of people around you. "I just had to make sure. I don't want to come out of this a homewrecker."

James seems to pale at your words, as if the lengths of your age gap is finally catching up to him. Eyebrows furrowed, he mutters, "Why would you be a homewrecker?"

Then quieter, under his breath: "What the hell am I doing?"

He doesn't give you time to respond to what looks to be the beginnings of a mental spiral. "Look… I'm—I'm sorry for lashing out, kid. Here—" he flags down the same bartender from before. "You want another drink?"

"Only if you drink with me."

James sighs, eyelids squeezed shut, but eventually nods a single bob of his head. He's every bit the spitting image of a man in too deep to back out now. James downs nearly half of his drink in one go when it arrives before slowly turning to finally face you again. You take a swig of your own once he's facing you, eyes fluttering shut as it burns its way down your throat. You can't help but notice James's eyes are still glued to your throat when you open them again.

Your lips stretch into a smile you hope looks innocent enough before you look him dead in the eye and ask, "So, James. What brings you here tonight?"

This question seems to throw him for a loop. You aren't exactly hiding your attempts at disarming him, but James either hasn't noticed or just doesn't care enough to bring it up. The flush that settles on his cheeks goes beyond the rosy glow of being tipsy and you think you already have your answer before he even speaks.

"I wanted to… decompress," James eventually rasps out, all the while refusing to make eye contact with you.

That's certainly a way to put what he's after.

You hum, propping your elbow up on the bar and resting your head in your hand. "Decompress with a drink? Or are you looking for something else?"

James sputters, very nearly choking on his whiskey. His hand slams down on the bar and the sound of rattling glasses is muffled only by the music and chatter from nearby patrons. "What—what makes you think that I'm here for that?"

"Well," you say, leaning forward to straighten the fabric of his jacket's collar once he trails off. James stiffens under your touch, eyes flicking down to your hands that linger a bit too long to be appropriate. His Adam's apple bobs mere centimeters away from your fingers, the muscles in his neck cording as he swallows. "When you buy someone a drink—multiple, no less—they might get ideas, James..." 

James still seems almost in disbelief at the fact that you're here with him, touching and flirting back with a man nearly two decades your senior. But really, with a face like that, how could you not? He's almost distractingly handsome with his strong, stubble-covered jaw and bright green eyes. In what world could he consider himself unworthy of your attention? It must be the whole dead wife thing, you suppose. That or he's still grappling with the fact that he's still attracted to someone as young as you.

He scrambles for a response, hands trembling as they come up in surrender. "I don't know what you're talking about," James eventually rasps out, and you can feel the rumble of his voice travel from deep within his chest where your hands rest near his throat.

You can only smile as you pat his scratchy cheek in response to that. "Sure."

James pulls himself out of your grasp with an exhale that almost sounds pained. He clearly needs a minute, and you don't want to scare him off. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom for a second, okay?"

Your voice drops to a hush as you lean closer to whisper into his ear, "You can either meet me in there, or I'll come right back after a few."

You watch over your shoulder as you retreat to the restroom. A smile tugs at your lips as you see James shoot you an unsure wave (one that you quickly return) before turning your attention back to navigating towards the bathroom. Several long minutes pass with you seeing neither hide nor hair of James, long enough for you to turn knocks at the door away multiple times over. Luring him into the bathroom isn't the most romantic of gestures, but you can't exactly say you're opposed to hooking up with a hot older man in a bathroom stall. 

You're almost worried you'd overstepped when the fourth set of knocking comes; you're about to yell at them to go away through the door when a familiar low voice calls your name. Snapping to attention, you almost immediately swing the door open and usher James in. James presses his back against the door as you reach around him to lock it, as if putting as much distance possible between the two of you is enough to extinguish the burning tension simmering in the air.

So James had watched you long enough to see which restroom you'd stepped in to. Maybe you were making progress. He was here, after all, was he not?

James's voice cuts you off just as you're wordlessly reaching down to unbuckle his belt. "Why did you want me to follow?"

Brow furrowed, you glance up to make eye contact with the oblivious man before you. Well—you're not so sure if he's oblivious so much as willfully ignorant as to what's brewing between you. Still, you're left blinking owlishly up at him.

Your fingers finally settle on the smooth leather of his belt and the flush on his cheeks would make you laugh if the situation wasn't so ridiculous. James's hand reaches out to stop you in your tracks, and a heat settles in your gut as you realize just one of his trembling hands can completely encompass both of your own. Whether his body is wracked with shame or desire, you can't exactly say.

"Well, I was about to suck you off, so what do you think?"

James's eyebrows shoot so high in his shock they're nearly hidden in his hairline. His only response is to sputter, and you realize with a shiver that James's hand has tightened around yours. "I—here?"

You only shrug in response. "Is that not what you came here for?"

"I—no—look, kid I shouldn't. Not with someone so much younger than me."

The combination of that damn nickname and the booze working its magic has something dangerously hot thrumming through your body. Your head tilts in response, asking, "Have you not been flirting with me all night? Like I said, James. You buy someone that many drinks, you may as well have already asked them to come home with you."

"That wasn't flirting," he mutters, grip tightening around your wrist. There's a tone in his voice that almost reminds you of a scolding parent.

"James, if you're trying to fuck me, you really have to stop acting like a disapproving dad."

Perhaps it was mean of you to be so harsh just to see him squirm, but the way his eyes flutter shut in defeat only leaves you smiling in response.

One of your hands slowly slips from beneath James's own, coming to rest once more on his stubbled cheek. In a move that seems to surprise you both, James leans into your touch, turning to press his lips against the palm of your hand. Your grin only grows wider as his mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide and looking for any semblance of an excuse to shoot back at you. He quickly gives up once he sees your expression, pupils blown into black abysses and lips parted at the sight of him being so damn needy. James glances away, once again unable to make eye contact with you so close and clearly able to read him like a book.

The pad of your thumb strokes over his cheek, leaning so close James startles when he feels your breath ghost against his lips. Eyes half-lidded, you ask, "Do you wanna get out of here?"

James looks simultaneously relieved and terrified now that you've said the quiet part out loud. To his credit, he actually seems to wrestle with your offer before nodding a shaky jerk of his head yes. His hesitation is all in the way his brow furrows, Adam's apple bobbing when he inhales so sharply you can hear the air being sucked into his lungs. You can't seem to pull your eyes away from the way his index finger traces a bead of precipitation around the rim of his glass.

"There's a motel around the block," he finally says, snapping your attention from his hands back to his face.

You cover your mouth in faux offense at the word motel. "A motel, James, really? Fucking me like a low class whore tonight, it seems?"

You only want to toy with him, really, but the look that flashes across his face at your words has you dropping the act pretty quickly after his quick huff of laughter. There's something else in his expression too, something in the way his cheeks flush and pupils expand that tells you he doesn't exactly mind your teasing.

"Kid—" James calls out, quickly cutting himself off to instead murmur your name. "—I need to stop calling you that. But listen, I don't mean it like that. I just assumed you didn't want some random stranger all alone in your home, and I'm a few too many drinks in to drive us all the way back to mine."

His hand moves to cradle the one still resting against his face, a comforting warmth against your own. "I figured walking down the block was the best bet for both of us."

You supposed he does have a point. Laughing, your hand pokes at his cheek. "I was only teasing, James."

Thankfully, the older man seems to be relaxing in your presence the slightest bit. A quiet chuckle falls from his lips as he playfully swats your hand away, only to die in his throat when you twist your hand around to interlace your fingers with his. James very nearly smiles at the contact before it quickly falls from his face, a frown weighing down the corners of his lips. You can see the conflict still warring behind his eyes, and quickly rise to your feet and squeeze his hand in an attempt to pull him from his thoughts. You assume what he's grappling with is either something to do with his wife or the age difference. Maybe even both.

You unlock the door behind James, holding it open for him to step back out into the bar. Your trace the outline of his form with your eyes, silhouetted by the dim lights of the bar. While James still looks as if one wrong word could send him to tears, he seems resigned to what's about to go down between the two of you.

Eventually your gaze lands on your still joint hands lingering by his belt. With a smile, you gently tug him in the direction of the exit.

"Well, big guy," you say, voice lilting. "Where's this motel you're so keen on showing me?"

James gently tugs you in the direction of the motel he has in mind, and you think you catch a hint of a smile on his flushed cheeks at your decided upon nickname for him. At the first sight of a shiver wracking your body, he pulls you tight against his side. The heat that radiates off of him almost immediately seeps into your bones, and you relax into his side despite the still lingering tension.

You figure you may as well bite the bullet.

"Have you… done this? Since her?"

James very nearly stumbles over himself at your question. He clears his throat, hand tightening against your side. "Done what?"

Your eyes narrow at him. "Fucked someone, James."

His free hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, gaze heavy as he pulls it away from you and shakes his head no. James seems to sag beneath the weight of his confession, as if what he's doing with you is an unshakeable presence on his shoulders. "No. I haven't."

You slow to a standstill, yanking James back as he tries to move past the conversation. The sidewalk is mostly empty now, though you still pull him beneath an alcove out of the way of any passersby. Turning James to face you, you slip from his grasp. His hand trails after your presence, lingering in the newfound space between the two of you before eventually falling back to his side.

"You didn't think this was important to mention?"

James very nearly jumps out of his skin at that. "No! Of course it's important. I—I just didn't want to…" His hands clench at his sides as he looks for the words. "I didn't want to put any pressure on you… Or make you feel as if you had to do anything special for me."

When his eyes open, you're so close he could count every single one of your eyelashes if he had the time. A shiver runs down his spine at the feeling of your breath brushing across his lips. James's bright green eyes, lined with dark circles, settle on your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, rocking forward on the balls of your feet. Gingerly, your hands rest on his shoulders to pull him down towards your height.

Swallowing, his eyes flutter shut once more. He nods after a moment of deliberation. You get the sinking feeling that he wouldn't have said yes if his eyes were open and he had to face the tangible proof of his actions, most notably youstanding before him.

James's lips are chapped when you lean up to press against them. Unmoving, too, at least for the first few seconds, though you swear you can hear him gasp. He huffs out a sigh against your lips, rough hand cupping your cheek. He's so warm,warm against your lips, your cheek, where you're pressed chest to chest.

A swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip leaves him groaning, and you push forward to suck his tongue into your mouth. James shudders at the feeling, crowding you backwards until your back hits the rough brick wall behind you. Your hand slides up to tangle in his hair just as you feel one of his long-fingered hands slide down your hip. A knee slots between your legs and you're all too eager to spread them so you can roll your hips down against him.

There's a small, desperate part of you that almost wants to drag him into the alley to your left and go at him like a crazed animal, but you aren't particularly keen on getting charged for public indecency. You linger near his mouth once you pull away, breathing in the same sharp breaths of air as him.

"James," you huff out, wiping away the spit that still lingers in the corner of your mouth. "Take me to that motel nowbefore we get arrested because I take you back there," you say with a quick tilt of your head towards the alley.

A small smile twitches at the corners of James's lips despite the embarrassed flush on his cheeks, eyes open wide in shock. It's almost as if he can't believe he managed to pull such a reaction out of you. 

"Okay," he rasps out, though it takes a second for him to muster up the wherewithal to pull away from you.

You straighten your outfit out before accepting his offered arm, hand resting on his forearm and drawing idle shapes against the inside of his wrist as he guides you to the motel with a newfound urgency. The slick feeling between your thighs has you picking up your pace as well, eager to get out of the autumn chill even with James's wandering hands all over you. Your destination is immediately recognizable by the blinking letters spelling out VACANCY in all caps, and you're so relieved you almost collapse into James at the sight.

He glances through the glass entrance doors before holding them open for you, scanning the room. There's a brief moment where you second guess this whole thing—had he been checking to make sure he wasn't seen with you? Thankfully, most of your anxiety fades away with the speed at which he drags you to the front counter. You're suddenly grateful for the absence of people in the room besides the reception; you'd do anything right now to get into a private place with him fast.

Before you can even ask about how you're handling splitting the costs of the room, James pulls out his wallet and slaps a card down. You can't hold back your pleased laugh at his eagerness, and the receptionist's shocked expression only serves to make things worse for you. James lets out a quiet amused huff, ears tinged pink when you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

The receptionist rings him up with a bored expression before handing the keys over. You grab them with your free hand before he can, already having noticed the tremors in his hand from where your arms are linked. James shoots you a grateful little smile, and with that you both make your way to your room.

James is very nearly trailing behind you by the time you get to your room, his earlier excitement seemingly having faded into trepidation once more. You figure the reality of the situation is catching up to him now, but you have the feeling he'd rather deal with it in the privacy of your room than in front of potential onlookers. Gently, you steer him into the room.

His pretty green eyes are glued to the floor now, and something in your chest feels like it might crack. "James?" you call, voice soft. "You alright?"

He only hums under his breath, eyes squeezed shut. Guilt immediately gnaws a hole through your body, blood running cold. It's almost sobering, this wave of clarity that hits you. "We don't have to do anything, if you don't want this, James."

Under different circumstances, saying those words to someone so much older than you would leave you laughing.

James's gaze snaps up with a frantic shake of his head no. "That's the problem," he murmurs, voice cracking on the first word. "I want this. I want you so bad it hurts, and I—I don't know what to do with that anymore."

"Are you sure?" you ask, hand reaching out to rest on his cheek. "I won't be… offended, or anything, if this is too much."

Brows furrowed, your eyes follow the slide of tears running wet tracks down his cheeks and catching on your hand. James inhales another stuttering breath, voice shaky when he says, "It's not. I want this."

I want this is sounding more like a reassurance than a statement, but you can't exactly argue when his lips are pressing so intently against yours. You relax into the kiss even as the taste of salty tears invades your mouth. James shudders when you bite at his bottom lip, and the low whimper that hits your ears might be what it sounds like at the gates of heaven.

There's a stringy bit of saliva connecting you when you part for air, broken only by the swipe of your tongue against your lips. James rests his forehead against yours, panting against your face as he takes you in. You grin shakily at him and swipe your thumb against his cheek, wiping tears from his despondent face.

"You're sure about this?" you ask once more.

"Yes," James chokes out.

You move to take your costume's headband off, throwing it somewhere across the room with a little smile. Your hands slide under the warm material of James's jacket until you reach his shoulders and can move to push it off of his frame. The offensive green jacket falls and gives you a brief glimpse at his gray button up before you're pulling him down into another tear-stained kiss.

You work at the buttons of his shirt as you open your mouth for him, sucking at his lip before licking at his tongue. His entire body trembles beneath your touch even as he leans into it, pressing himself against you so close you struggle to finish unbuttoning him. Your hand lingers at the bottom of his shirt, so close to the tent in his pants he lets out a pleased little noise when you brush against it.

James's hands stop you once you pull away to take your top off, shaking his head. "Can… can you keep it on?" he pants, grinding himself into your hip with a groan.

You glance down at yourself and the black latex of your nurse costume with a laugh. "You got a thing for nurses, James?"

He shudders at your tone of voice, and though he shakes his head no you both know it's a lie.

"I can keep it on," you say, bringing his face closer for another quick kiss.

Instead of attempting to take the rest of your clothes off, you sit back on the bed and get to work unlacing your boots. James looks confused for a moment before dropping to his knees and pushing your hands away so he can deal with the task of removing your shoes.

"Thanks," you practically purr. You could get used to the view of James on his knees before you. "Couldn't exactly take my underwear off with these clunky things on."

James's breath shudders at your words, hips moving of their own accord to press against your leg. He looks mortified with himself and goes to move away until you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. James fucking whines at the feeling, grinding jerky motions into you, and who are you to deny him?

You yank his head back after a moment, licking your lips at the sight of his bared throat. "As much as I'd love to see you come apart humping my leg," you start, free hand coming up to rub at the stubble of his cheek, "I do want you inside me tonight."

You realize the tears are back in James's eyes once he's looking directly up at you, slowly trailing from the corners of his eyes into his hairline at the angle you hold his head at. Whether they're in pleasure or shame you can't say, but the sight of his reddening eyes and hiccuping breath leaves a knot tightening in your stomach either way.

He nods finally, continuing to work his way down your half-laced boot. You lift your leg to help him pull it off and watch as his eyes immediately slip to the new skin under your skirt exposed by the new angle. Shit, James might even be looking at your cunt. The underwear you had chosen for tonight had to be skimpy lest they show through the exposed sides of your skirt, and you know for a fact that what little material there was is already soaked through.

James makes quick work of your other boot, going through the same process as before when pulling it from your foot. This time, though, he holds your leg up and continues staring up under your skirt. Wiping his tears, you coo at him, "You wanna take those off for me, too?"

As if waiting for you to ask, James nods so eagerly it's as if you just asked him if he wanted a million dollars. "Yes," he pants, leaning into your touch on his cheek. "God, yes, please let me."

You pat his cheek before nodding, and he moves like a man possessed. A hand comes up to rest on your hips, lifting them as the other shakily slides beneath your skirt. James fumbles with the fabric for a moment before finally hooking his fingers over the top and yanking them down your legs in one go.

James brings the soaked through fabric up to his face, breathing in the scent of you with a moan. He shoots a hand out to palm at his still clothed cock, rocking up into himself. "I need to taste you," he croaks out, dropping your underwear from his face and placing his hands on your knees to spread them apart. "Please, please let me taste you."

Well, how could you say no to that?

The second you nod, James shoves himself under your skirt. He has to slide up the skin tight fabric to make room for himself and you gasp at the feeling of his breath against your center. A finger runs up through your folds, slow and thick, immediately followed by his tongue. Your hands bury in his sandy hair, pulling him flush against your cunt at the feeling of his stubble scratching your thighs. He responds by taking your clit into his mouth and sucking, circling it with his tongue as your thighs tremble. 

Every noise you make, every tug of his hair, leaves James whining against you. He slides down, nose pressed flush against your clit, to lap at your hole. James's hands bounce you against his face from their position on your hips, tongue fucking deeper and deeper into your cunt. It's only when you feel him circling you with a finger that you realize how dangerously close you are to finishing. He slips his pointer finger into you and your thighs squeeze so tight around his head you hear him gasp in shock.

James fucks you open slow and deep, lapping at your clit as he slips another finger alongside the first. He curls them inside you, pressing right against your velvet insides in a way that has your vision going black around the edges. The knot in your stomach from before tightens once more, snapping under the toe-curling pressure as you cum with his name on your tongue.

"James," you pant, hips jerkily moving to meet the motion of his fingers still fucking into you. "You're s-so good. Feel so, so good."

The sound he makes at your praise nearly leaves you wondering if he'd finished with you.

You have to pull him from your spasming pussy by his hair, seeing as he seemed content to continue probing at you long after your orgasm had passed.

James's face is coated with a layer of your slick when he reappears from between your legs, the remnants of you shiny across his face. He drags his fingers across the side of his face to slide some of your essence into his mouth with a groan, sucking on the fingers he'd just had buried inside of you so hard his cheeks hollow.

You pull James up into a kiss by his jaw, and he leans into your touch readily. His tongue is heady with your taste as he moans into your mouth, hips stuttering as he rolls and grinds down against you. Your hand slides down his front, and the keening noise he makes when your hand lands on his belt has your toes curling once more.

You click your tongue in sympathy when you feel how much he's straining against his jeans. "Is that not painful?" you ask, dragging a finger up his clothed cock as he shudders.

"It's… not comfortable, for sure," James grits out, grinding up against your hand. You have a feeling he'd be all too eager to cum in his pants if it weren't for the fact that you'd said you wanted him inside of you. It's endearing how desperately he's been seeking out your approval since you got into the room—you aren't quite sure you've ever been with someone so eager to please before.

"Please," James begs, voice low and shameful as you unbuckle his belt with a metallic clank. "Please. Can I—can I fuck you now?"

Before you can nod, James continues, hips rolling against you. "I've—shit—been thinking about this since I saw you," he confesses. You let out a whine as he spreads your legs further apart with those warm hands, pathetically grinding into your cunt. "You and that damn costume. I was sitting at that bar half-hard the whole night," he chuckles under his breath. "No wonder I acted like such a damn fool. There wasn't any blood left in my brain to function."

You finally manage to wrangle the button of his jeans open and he lets out a satisfied hiss. His zipper follows immediately after and soon enough you can feel the weight of him against you once he reaches a hand down to situate himself.

"Condom," you gasp out, sliding your cunt over his leaking cock. James nods from his position above you, bangs tickling your forehead, but only manages to pull back after a few shaky thrusts through your glistening folds. 

He scrambles for his wallet, digging through his pockets like a mad man. With trembling hands, he forces the worn leather thing open and pulls out a foiled wrapper. You have to steady his hands with your own to help open the thing, and the sight would almost be sweet if you weren't so desperate to get fucked. You quickly slide the condom over his leaking cock, giving it a few quick tugs before falling back against the mattress. Your legs hook around his hips, pulling him flush against you.

James's head hangs low, staring down at you. It's not hard to read the war of conflicting emotions written all over his face, even in your current state. He wants this, that much is obvious, but you begin to doubt yourself when his eyes flutter shut and more tears flow. You reach up to wipe his face clean in what you hope is a comforting gesture, and when he opens his eyes something akin to determination washes over his face. 

Slowly, he reaches a hand down to guide himself inside of you. He's hardly pushed more than the head in when his entire body tenses, breathing out an overwhelmed gasp that sounds like it's caught somewhere between pleasure and pain as you accommodate to the stretch of him inside of you.

"You can move, James," you half plead, batting your eyelashes up at him in an attempt to convince him.

"I can't," he grits out, and you're about to ask why when it clicks. You aren't quite sure how it didn't until now, but the way his entire body is tensed and he had to force himself not to move would have been enough to clue you in if it weren't for the warm haze currently settled over your mind. Not wanting to cut things short, you reach a hand up to run through his hair. Though James shudders all the same, you suppose it's the better option between that and the instinct to roll your hips and force him to move.

James relaxes after what feels like an eternity, though you can't exactly say you blame him considering he apparently hasn't gotten any action in awhile. He gives a tentative roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with a sigh. James is thicker than you had thought, though with how wet you are the stretch only has your eyes rolling in pleasure. Your heels dig into his back, forcing James deeper until you can feel the coarse hairs at the base of his cock brush against you.

His rhythm is shaky at first, unsure, as if one wrong move might shatter the illusion of you in front of him. 

"You—you feel so good," James pants, rutting into your soaked cunt. His broken whimper cuts through the air so loud you're certain any surrounding rooms will know exactly what's going on. "So tight. So wet."

It's only when you cant your hips up to chase after him that he begins to seem more sure of himself, hands gripping your sides tighter to pull you back onto his cock. The pace James settles into isn't a rough one, but it's thorough, and manages to hit a spot deep inside you with every thrust that has you inching your way towards a second orgasm. Wet noises fill the room with every thrust, echoing off the walls as you feel your slick slide down your thighs with James's movement.

You aren't her, but you feel like her, he realizes. James knows it's unfair to compare the two of you; the thought makes something sour curdle in his gut even as he tries to push it away. Arousal shines through the shame for now and in its place he's left whining into your neck as tears burn in his eyes.

You can't exactly say the feeling of his tears against your skin doesn't excite you.

A thought hits you unbidden, and you're acting on it before you can stop yourself.

Pulling James's head from where it's buried in your neck, you turn him to face you. In an action so sudden it shocks you both, your tongue drags its way up the tears lining his cheeks, from his stubbly jaw up to the apples of his cheeks. James goes stock still inside you, and for a moment you're scared that was too much. That you'd pushed him too far and ruined this for the both of you.

Any reservations you may have held are quickly wiped away when James whimpers his way through a whole body shiver, hips slamming back up into yours with a desperation even greater than before. Tears continue to fall and his body still heaves, but the debauched noises falling from his lips only spur you on more. You lave at his face despite the uncomfortable drag of your tongue against his stubble, groaning at the salty taste of tears.

Hips rising to meet his thrusts, you drag a hand down your body to feverishly rub at your clit. That little bit of stimulation is all you need to push you over the mind numbing edge; the sound of you finishing for a second time and the feeling of your cunt tightening around James is more than enough to finish him off, too. You just barely hear the cry of your name over the rush of blood in your ears, James slumping forward to collapse against you with his entire weight.

"Thank you," he cries, hips still rutting into you, carrying you both through the aftershocks of your orgasms. "Thank you.Thank you, thank you so much."

You lay there panting, comforted by the weight of him on top of you. James once again buries his face in your neck and lets out a sob and all you're able to do in response is cradle him against you. The shaking of his body against you is a near constant reminder of his cock still stuffed in your oversensitive cunt whenever he shifts.

"James," you coo, trailing a hand down his back. "Are you alright?"

His only response at first is a bob of his head against you. Eventually, once the heat and uncomfortable stickiness of your joint bodies becomes too much, he extracts himself from you with a sigh. Once James has tied off the condom and stumbled his way back to bed, he lands face first against the mattress.

If the way he'd avoided looking your way on the way back to bed is anything to go off of, you're almost certain he can't bear to look at you anymore. The thought has that same sobering coldness seeping through your body like before; the post-sex haze lifts from your mind and heavy limbs almost immediately. 

Still, James is obviously having some sort of breakdown. It feels wrong to just get up and leave him to his own devices. You turn on your side to face him, reaching a hand out to run your fingers through his hair. It's soft and still smells of his shampoo under the more potent scent of sweat and sex, you realize. 

Eventually, James cocks his head to the side to look over at you with watery eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, lip trembling. "I'm so, so sorry."

Brow furrowing, you ask, "For what, James? For crying? I can't say I didn't enjoy it, as sick as that sounds."

James's cheeks flush at that, and he glances away sheepishly as you continue.

"But the sex was good—even though it was a bit more involved than I typically get with hookups. But you're hot, and eat pussy like a man starved. I have no complaints."

James nods tentatively after a moment of deliberation. "I just—you're too good to be tainted by the touch of someone like me," he says, finally looking you in the eye again in an attempt to drive his point home.

You laugh at that, so loud James almost looks scared when he stares up at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Need I remind you that I approached you first? Sure, you bought me a drink, but I actively sought you out."

"You deserve someone… not me."

Dragging your hand from the back of his head down to his cheek, you give him a comforting pat on the cheek. James leans into the touch despite himself, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist and looking at you with such reverence it nearly takes your breath away.

"James," you whine, leaning in so close your noses brush. You know what this is about—not only is he grappling with the guilt of sleeping with someone after the death of his wife, but the whole age thing surely plays a part, too. While you can't exactly help him with the first problem, you can at least reassure him on your decision to sleep with him. "I might be younger than you, but I am still an adult. Old enough to drink, old enough to make my own decisions. I may have joked about it back at the bar, but I have no qualms about sleeping with someone older than me."

"I'll even let you in on a little secret," you say, dragging your nose up his cheek until your lips are hovering by his ear. James's cheeks flush as your voice drops lower to whisper, "You calling me kid is what got me so wet in the first place."

James looks as if he might pass out at your confession. The tension slowly leaves his face until he's chuckling under his breath, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "I'll remember that for next time, kid."

You cock an eyebrow at him, smiling as you ask, "Oh? There's gonna be a next time, is there?"

James looks mortified until he sees the smile on your face. He shoves at your shoulder playfully, face still hot as he confesses, "Well… I was going to ask for your number after this."

Cheeks aching from your smile, you shake your head and say, "I suppose I can give it to you then, big guy."

and then, he finds you dancing bewitchingly in that pole, enjoying all of yourself, as if nothing else matters. every sway of your hips and arch of your back radiate a confidence that seems out of place in a town like this. he doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything. part of him wants to turn away, but something deeper, something he can’t quite name, keeps him rooted to the spot.

“didn’t think anyone would showed up tonight.” you sway playfully around the pole and you stare at him, smiling joyfully, to then lean on the metal bar, as if it were part of the show.

“no... i’m just... lost.” he stammers, his voice shaky and uncertain. then, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, he takes a cautious step closer, “i mean, what are you doing in here? there’s monsters outside. it is not a safe place for a girl like you.”

“girl like me?” you huff blatantly, rolling down the pole and crawling towards where he is. the stage platform is relatively high. it reaches a little above his waist, so he can see your hips and ass swaying as you approach. automatically the first thing he does is step back a little, but without letting his view deviate from your movements. “you surely did something bad. you’re not here by merely coincidence. i was just like you and i figured out the wickedness of this place. the best thing you can do is walk away or maybe figure out what you're doing here.”

you barely remember how many times he came back at your place, but if you only knew the way james looked at you... you were nothing like mary. you were more confident about yourself, much younger, sexier. every time you encountered him, the more he learned about the truth, you would throw in his face the horrible thing he did to the woman and yet he would always come back — over and over again.

whether he meant to or not, you reminded him of the darkest parts of him — what he’d been trying to suppress ever since mary fell ill. and he hated her. he resented her so much that it was a burden that was getting harder to bear every day. that misery was growing every day and it brought the two of you closer. so vibrant and broken, a beautiful mess already ruined and it felt so disgusting to think that he wanted to take you into an even deeper abyss. even after discovering the truth, he cared more about you —screwing you was what he wanted most now.

and he, dejected, returns to your feet. deep down, he hopes for comfort from you. you know that the weight of his crime afflicts him.

you get near him, and pity is the only thing that you can feel for him because he looks sorrowful. he doesn’t look at your eyes and has his head downcast avoids all eye contact.

“could you think you can um…” if he were more brave, he surely would ask you to take all of your clothes. now that he has nothing to lose, he’s even more ashamed just to think he’s being unfaithful to the deceased.

“yes?” you pretend to ask innocently, waiting for him to ask you to make obscene things for him.

such a pretty body, lonely in this town lo as he is.

“please, dance for me.” his breath ragged as his eyes linger on you. he feels humiliated to even notice those words coming out from his mouth.

trying to remain playfully, you do what you’ve been ordered to, but you can’t help but now feel a burden, more for mary. now this feels wrong and with your hands leaning towards the pole, you are wondering if mary is there, judging you for lusting over him and now an eerie feeling of sadness takes over your body.

his fists clenched and he remains looking at the bewitched dance, with a dead, pierced gaze that is fixed on you. all of this is so off and yet, thoughts of him placing hands all over you, images of your body are flooding his mind.

trying to regain composure, though he may have not noticed those ideas crossed your mind, you just ask him: “you enjoyed it, dear?” letting out a giggle.

“yeah, sure” he hesitates. a big pressure is crushing his chest and all he can do is to step aside and take a seat in one of the main leather couches scattered in all over the place. of course you follow him, mostly for that answer didn’t please you at all

this is the closest he’s ever let you get near him.

“I can't do this.” he squints his eyes, swallows saliva and throws his head back in the header.

he’s stiff and you also take a seat, with your legs lying on the opposite side.

he lies. you know he does. the lascivious look he used to lay on you every time he saw you says otherwise. it would be lying to himself so pathetically. if only you knew the things he thought about...

“i know it's not true. you don't have to lie to yourself like that.”

your hand rests on his leg, playfully and pretending to do it innocent. adrenaline rushes through his body. and yet, he tenses. he wants to push you away, to pull away, but he doesn't and his breath hitches. what he longed for most, what he couldn't have for so long... now to hold it in his hands is sinful. and the touch of your fingertips brings him back to the reality he is living now: one in which mary ceased to exist.

he looks at you — the touch of your fingers on his crotch makes him shudder. it's the moment when he decides to let his baser impulses take over, with his heart pounding.

you snuggle against his chest. from your free hand, your index finger fiddles with his chin. he lowers his gaze, still shy of meeting your eyes and his nose brushes against your forehead. your eyes contemplate him, waiting for a reaction as the fingers of your other hand are now perched on the bulge forming beneath his pants. the mere touch of real skin jolts him and brings him back to what is happening.

his arm reaches down through the leather of the couch and rests his hand on your ass, which and barely half of it was covered by a short denim skirt and as if on an alluring call, skin and skin meet, now only being blocked by the thin fabric of your panties. a shiver runs down your back, the thrill of knowing how far he can go takes over your body.

“see? you can't deny that you want me.” your touch goes from delicate and subtle to a much more obvious one. your whole palm now probes more thoroughly into the fabric of his pants.

and he can’t argue anything because he knows you're right. his hand disappears between the skirt fabric, under the strap of your panties and the reserved — rather, repressed — touch, it’s like someone trying something new, afraid of getting hurt.

and frantically, not knowing how to act, you lick over the bulge that is now more evident and turn your eyes back to him. you let out a giggle and plant a kiss on his lips. and finally his true self comes to the surface, grabs the back of your neck and kisses you impatiently. now he no longer had to lie to himself. he desired you from afar and it's so pathetic. he feels so miserable because how long he longed to feel a warm tongue, the warmth of a human body and it’s evident by the way he plays with your mouth and your inexperienced lips. a violent kiss from a man who perhaps and before his wife has known other women, hungry for desire and taking out his frustrations on you was too much.

when you pull away for a moment to catch your breath from the wild kiss, he pulls you back into his mouth and all you have left to do is let go. he grunts and his breathing becomes erratic each time he wraps his tongue around yours.

“i shouldn’t want this... but god... you make it impossible.” he only stops for a moment to whisper in your ear. his shaved beard caresses your cheeks and you sit back up normally to sprawl your legs and give him more room to continue what he interrupted.

and roughly, your lips unite again. if he was honest, he had completely forgotten how to touch a woman and his movements going down were clumsy and awkward. he bites your lips and all you can do is open your mouth to give him better access to it.

“see what you’re doing to me, mhm? you’re driving me insane.” he hoarse and growls.

he puts aside the fabric of your panties and caresses with two of his fingers your slippered slit. his movements go up and down, calloused pads teasing your clit and entering inside your cunt. his fingers feel thick and tight and you moan every time they hit a spot you never thought would make you writhe out of bliss. and he’s aroused by the sweet, obscene and sticky

sound of his wrapped fingers moving around you. sliding them at a fast pace that they can easily go in and out.

out of embarrassment, you place your hand in your mouth because the idea of someone hearing you whine out of pleasure is so humiliating, and how things stirred up to reach this moment don’t help you at all.

“i want to hear you, please, don’t hold back.” he mutters, managing to take your hand from your mouth.

it is a way to remind him all of this is real. that there’s no maria, mary, angela, eddie, like everything came to an end and his digits are touching real human skin. not illusions, hallucinations or any other manifestation.

he’s just blinded by desire and carelessly and breathing heavily, he pulls down his pants to let off finally his aching and erected cock and completely drowned in yearning and despair, he grabs fiercely the errands of your hair and shoves his shaft inside of your mouth, not giving you enough time to catch a breath and you cough, gagging around it. desperately choking and trying to find a way to filter air and continue to please him, your nostrils let in a drag of oxygen and you realize he didn’t notice you were choking, as he ponders with irregular movements your throat.

he looks at your teary eyes and he can’t help but groan like the animal he has turned — you had turned him into. always wearing those damn short clothes and strolling your hips to catch his attention… now he releases his frustration, and he thinks for himself this what you wanted from the beginning. he has to admit it worked out perfectly.

“damn… you’re taking it so well.” he gulps and adds: “this what you wanted to commit a while ago, isn’t it?” he’s genuinely surprised at the abilities he thought you had and the grip he has on your hair tightens up and his movements are faster. your jaw started loosening, to let him explore further and you can’t help but gag and hum as an affirmation.

you would take his girth out time to time to catch air, to then put it back in your mouth again. your gaze was pierced in his eyes, who now seem to have lost any trace of decency, slurping and leaving his cock full of saliva. your hands were massaging his balls and your throat managed somehow to open up and finding a way to breath properly.

you cough when he decided it was finally the perfect moment to entomb his cock inside you. he was like a drug addict in withdrawal. he no longer cares if it was all wrong, now he just wants every bit of you.... maybe start over again.

he gets up and lays you down on the couch, bitting and leaving hickeys all over your collarbone.

he pulls up a part of your blouse, only to discover you are not wearing a bra and when he sees your naked breast, he licks it and the he puts it inside his mouth, savouring it and grabbing the other one. he cup his head between your tits and he’s thankful, again, of feeling a heart beating — a real one. the scene shakes you a little and you want to stroke his hair and hold him like that for a while, but men have need and james is not an exception to that rule.

having reminded you are a real human being, he takes your panties, sprawls your legs and places your knees in your chest. he even sucks the crook of your neck and licks it, the touch of his tip makes you wonder how will be like when he rips you apart and—

your eyes open big, it’s tearing you apart. the turmoil of thoughts vanishes as he’s making his way to go deeper all over your cunt. he enjoys your blushed, aroused face, as he’s pinning and has a clear view of your pussy. the worst part is that you know it’s just the beginning and you know that all that’s left is for him is to move in circles around you.

he knew he had to be more considerate, asking if it didn’t hurt you, if you were feeling alright, but his common sense is all numbed by your walls sucking all of his cock. in a twisted way, he finds relief, jolt and excitement and that makes him move erratically.

“be a nice girl, and stay still.” he even pushes your legs further, the dirty noises his hips clapping your pussy made you wonder if this is the man who looked so desperately for her wife just a while ago.

and your walls loosen all over his broad shaft, as pain turn into a turmoil of bliss and satisfaction. at first it hurt, pondering why, when you a lot of girls in those porn films seemed to enjoy it, it just didn’t feel the same. however, the more he was burying his cock, the more it felt good.

his tip is tracing, rimming inside of your sensitive spot. a mewl whined out of your mouth and your insides are stirring up, wanting him to rub it deeply into you.

“i want to see you... full, carrying a part of me. something good in all this darkness. maybe it’s wrong, maybe i’m selfish, but i want you to have something of mine. something that proves you’re mine.” he leave a trail of kisses all over your you can’t help but let out a whine at such affirmations, even your pussy tensed, making him growl at the fleeting moment.

he wanted to have children, but misfortune came and he could never consummate that longing, but now that he seems to have already atoned for all his sins (or so he thinks), to have you in that position — so flushed biting your index finger, and unable to bear the pain and pleasure of having him inside you, breathing so erratically. maybe this was a new opportunity for him: with a young, healthy, radiant girl. he wondered if you would make a good mother for his children.

with that longing, thick, pearly-like loads of his seeds sprout all over your cunt. the liquid dripping inside of you is warm and you can feel his length pulsating, as he slows his pace. when he lets out the shaft, he contemplates for a while the white liquid oozing from you, realizing that he might bring new life into this world.

you lay there for a long while. he thinks of all the possibilities. all of his head is a mess right now. of course, a pound in his heart presents just at the merely idea of having already made love with another woman, even though he knew mary would’ve liked to see him happy.

and with that in mind, he can’t help but remembering little laura.

“can you hold on in here? i just need to give this to someone.” he shows a yellowish envelope but without any wrinkles. trying to hide the pain it evoked you seeing he had other pending matters and that you have been just a distraction, you just let out a sigh and deliver: “you have any other woman or what?”

“n-no, i…” he stammers nervously. the words choking in his throat as he looks at you, caught somewhere between guilt and desperation.“it’s just, this little girl. mary met her at the hospital and.”

“oh, i…” you blushed and felt bad for doubting of his good intentions.“surely, i’ll wait here.”

probably taking care of that girl laura might release some guilt about mary and feel like home and you can’t deny you’re excited to meet her.

Three weeks later, you're sitting at your computer, a strain in your eyes as you stare at the screen, mindlessly typing your report for the mission—the bruises on your face are starting to yellow at the edges, blending with the deep purple into a sickly, painful color. The rest of your body isn't faring much better after falling nearly twenty feet through a skylight during a chase through an old Umbrella facility. Honestly, it's a miracle you didn't break a limb or two—or your neck.

"What happened to you?" The voice prompts you to crane your head toward the source, causing a wince as you see Leon standing next to your desk with a worried frown. You take a moment to observe him, noticing a few scrapes on his cheeks that weren't there the last time you'd seen him. He and his partner had been on cleanup duty for the mission—not that you'd left them much to clean up; there's a reason the DSO hired you, and it wasn't because of sloppiness.

"Fell through a skylight," you answer blankly. When his eyes widen, you let out a huff of laughter that only causes your ribs to ache. "Could've been a lot worse, trust me."

"Looks like it," he says. "Maybe avoid high places next time."

The tone in his voice sounds like it's a reprimand—a warning for something most people would see as a rookie mistake—you're not a rookie—but you notice the smirk that flickers at the edges of his mouth. "I'll make sure to put the request in," you joke as you take a sip of your coffee that has, admittedly, been sitting on your desk for way too long, grimacing when the bitter liquid hits your tongue. "God, that tastes like sludge."

"Someone should've warned you about the break room coffee," he jokes. "I'm pretty sure it could be considered a biohazard."

You purse your lips, willing the taste from your tongue, knowing it's going to linger in the back of your throat all day as you nod in agreement. "I'll file a complaint with OSHA."

The small smile that creeps onto his face at your joke makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. He shifts slightly on his feet, looking as though he wants to say more, or maybe he's just reluctant to end the conversation. Regardless, he taps lightly on the top of your cubicle wall with his palm, signaling he's going to take his leave. "Well, I'll let you get back to your reports," he says, about to walk away before pausing, hovering for a moment before adding, "I'm glad you're alright."

The sincerity in his voice makes you soften, your shoulders dropping as you stare at him with gratitude. "Thank you, Agent Kennedy," you say, turning back to your computer, though you watch him leave from the corner of your eye until he's gone from your sight.

Later that night, you're joylessly chewing on a bland granola bar while walking back to your desk after a much-needed break among a sea of cubicles that have long since cleared out for the day. You come to a stop just a few feet from your destination when you notice a paper coffee cup deliberately placed in front of your keyboard. The logo of the fancy coffee shop down the road stares back at you—the one you always tell yourself you're going to stop in on the way to work but never wake up early enough to do so.

Your head swivels from side to side, glancing around the office to make sure you didn't just miss some other poor soul lingering after hours under the threat of looming deadlines, but the rest of the office remains resolutely dark except for the glow of your own computer and its blinding blue light—probably why you've had an impending migraine for most of the night.

Stepping closer, you see a bright pink Post-it note tucked underneath, one taken from your own stack that sits right under your monitor. You toss the half-eaten granola bar into the trash beside your desk before picking up the coffee cup and then the note, gazing down at it curiously.

'Hope this is better than the breakroom sludge.

P.S. Don't stay too late.'

There's no name or even initials signed at the bottom, but you still know who it's from. You huff through your nose as if trying to dispel the ridiculous amount of giddiness that swells in your belly at the kind gesture. You were only gone from your desk for thirty minutes, so you're surprised you didn't even see him skulking about like some wayward food delivery driver.

The coffee is still pleasantly hot when you take a sip; it's a medium-roast, smooth, and a bit sweet. You savor the taste, warming your palms against the cup. As you take a seat, you tuck the note into your top desk drawer with a fond smile.

Despite his words, you stay later than you intend to, but he doesn't need to know that.

Thus begins a little song and dance between you and Leon.

You leave a cup of coffee for him on his desk the next morning—just a black coffee with no extras, but you set a small bag filled with creamers and a variety of sugar packets you pilfered from the coffee shop next to it, along with a note that says:

'Didn't know how you like it.'

You drop it off quickly before you can talk yourself out of it, telling yourself you're just returning the favor from last night, and ignoring the fact that you specifically woke up thirty minutes early to ensure you had enough time to stop at the coffee shop this morning before work.

If you're a bit more aware of who comes in and out of the office, peeking over your cubicle wall for a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair, that's your own business… at least until your neighbor gives you an inquisitive look and asks if you're waiting for someone. You blanch, shake your head, and sink a little deeper into your seat, then redirect your gaze to your computer. The blush of being caught spreads to your cheeks as you idly pretend to check your emails.

When you finally see him, it's in passing in the hall, but he's holding a familiar cup and sends you a shy smile, mouthing 'thank you' before ducking into a conference room. It's a high you ride through the rest of the day, even if you're mildly embarrassed by how the man and his pretty blue eyes have invaded your frontal lobe.

You feel like a teenager pining after a crush.

Between him being sent out on assignment and you being medically cleared for field work again after your fall, you don't see each other for a few weeks. Luckily, when you return from this mission, you're mostly unscathed, though the same can't be said for Leon. Scrapes that are just beginning to scab over mark his face, and one arm is cradled in a sling. Overall, he looks rather pathetic—you hate how much it's working for you.

Leaning over his cubicle wall, you place a coffee cup down in front of him before giving him a sympathetic glance. "Skylight get you too?" you ask, straight-faced.

He lets out a hoarse, wheezing chuckle, wincing and putting a hand over his ribs. "Don't make me laugh," he says as he grabs the coffee. "Try an elevator shaft."

Grimacing, you take a sip of your own drink before muttering, "Bummer."

"At least I get some good coffee as a reward," he offers optimistically with a playful smile on his lips as he reclines more comfortably in his chair.

"I fear your standards may be too low, Agent Kennedy," you tell him.

"Leon," he quickly interjects.

Quirking a brow, you let out a curious hum, not understanding what he means.

"Leon," he repeats. "You can call me Leon."

A moment of silence passes between you two before the corners of your lips curl up, and you lean closer to him over the half-wall of his cubicle. "Okay, Leon," you agree, your tongue curling around his name experimentally, low and intimate in a way that's completely inappropriate for the workplace.

You notice the subtle change in his expression—how his pupils dilate, and his mouth hangs open slightly. Someone in the office coughs somewhere, and he snaps back to himself, his one good hand gripping the armrest of his chair as he looks away from you, shifting in his seat. You smirk, eyes glinting with amusement; you hadn't expected the man to be so shy.

As much as you'd like to stay and prod him a bit more, you decide to take pity on the poor man instead. "I'm glad you're alright," you say, echoing his sentiments from a few weeks ago as you turn to head back to your own desk.

He calls your name before you can get more than a foot away, and you stop, glancing over your shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Would you—" He closes his mouth, swallowing thickly as if his throat suddenly has gone dry. "—Would you like to get dinner sometime?"

Several heads peek over their cubicles, curious coworkers probably eager to hear this juicy bit of office gossip—Infamously aloof Agent Leon S. Kennedy asking out the pretty transfer from the West Coast? Yeah, that's going to make its rounds.

Leon is so absorbed in you that he doesn't even notice the nosy onlookers. There's nervous tension around him; you can see his jaw muscle twitch as he clenches his teeth, anticipating your reply—maybe even thinking you'll say no, as if you haven't been flirting with him since day one.

You step back toward him, holding a hand out expectantly, and when he gives you a confused stare, you clarify, "Your phone."

He scrambles to grab his phone from his pocket, and it's surprising how endearing it is to watch a man in his thirties eagerly offer it to you. When you swipe up on his phone and see he doesn't have a passcode, you give him an incredulous look but say nothing before typing in your information. You even send yourself a message, ensuring you have his number, knowing the chance of him chickening out isn't exactly zero percent. You feel your phone vibrate in your jacket.

In a swift motion, you lock his phone and toss it back to him, which he catches with ease, calling out, "Text me," as you walk away.

It takes him three days to text you.

Even as you continue to see each other in the office, leaving coffees on each other's desks and chatting in the break room, the only text in your message thread with Leon is the little coffee emoji you'd sent from his phone. It's Wednesday, and for the first time in weeks, you've managed to leave work at a decent time, and to celebrate, you're plopped on your couch, folding laundry and enjoying a glass of cheap wine while watching your favorite shitty reality TV show.

The muffled pings of your phone—three times in rapid succession—catch your attention, making you pause and toss the towel you'd been folding aside. When you search around for it, you realize you must've accidentally buried it under piles of clean clothes. "Fuck," you mutter as you carefully begin to peek under each stack until you find it in between pairs of underwear.

You're only mildly surprised to see three texts from Leon—or rather, 'Large Coffee, Light & Sweet,' as you've named him in your phone after learning his preferred way to take his coffee. A little surprising because you definitely pegged him for a plain black coffee kind of guy.

Hey.

It's Leon.

…Which you know already because you have my number.

You snort as you read the texts, hesitating to tap out a reply, thinking you might make him suffer for making you wait so long, but unfortunately for you—or fortunately for him—you lack that kind of impulse control.

Still, you can't help but make him sweat a bit, and only reply with a simple:

hi

The response is almost instant and makes you immediately regret the slight pettiness:

How was your day?

The question makes you want to do unspeakable things to him, you think sourly as your eyes narrow at the message on your phone. Every lackluster interaction you've had with a man in the last decade flashes before your eyes when you realize not one has ever asked you something as simple as how your day was.

Probably a talking point to bring up to your therapist.

finally got to leave the office on time :)

You send a picture of your hand holding your half-empty wine glass, backlit by your TV, being careful not to include any piles of laundry in the background—you don't want to scare him away with pictures of your delicates after he finally worked up the courage to text you.

You wait a few moments, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch your phone expectantly. When you finally set it down on your coffee table to resume folding laundry, it pings again. The speed with which you pick it up would be embarrassing if anyone else were around to witness it, but in the safety and solitude of your apartment, you permit yourself this humiliating instance of desperation.

He sends a picture back, with the top half of his face at the bottom, as the rest of the image shows the empty, dark office behind him. Unashamed, you click on the picture and zoom in to get a better look at him—his sandy hair, which usually falls into his eyes, is pushed back slightly, offering you a clearer view. The back of your neck warms as your gaze meets the still image of his that stares back at you, and you quickly click away to read the message.

Wish I was as lucky. 

And just as you're about to type a reply, another message comes through.

What are you watching?

crappy reality tv

You type back.

gonna be a late night??

Resolutely, you put your phone back down, watching intently as the little dots pop up signaling that he's typing as you absentmindedly fold the rest of your laundry, knowing if you stopped now, you'd never get it all done tonight. It stops and starts several times before you finally get another message.

I hope not, all I have is the breakroom sludge to keep me awake.

Smiling, you speed through the rest of your laundry before replying:

maybe you should spend a little less time texting women then?

Woman.

You frown, brows furrowing.

what?

I'm only talking to one woman.

An unnamed feeling swells comfortably in your chest, as if it belongs there. You stand, hooking your laundry basket onto your hip with one hand while staring down at your phone in the other. You walk the entire way to your room with your eyes fixed on your screen, setting the basket on your bed before gnawing your bottom lip raw as you type and erase a response.

After several attempts, you hit send before you can rethink it anymore.

is she cute?

He doesn't make you wait long for an answer; clearly, he doesn't intend to get his reports done tonight.

I think beautiful would be a better word.

You toss the phone away from you as if it burned you, hands on your hips as you sway your weight from one leg to the other—nervous energy flooding through you. Maybe you expected him to deflect or be coy about it; you definitely didn't expect such a sincere response.

Another message pops up in the chat.

I'm also hoping she'll agree to go to dinner with me on Friday even though I was a coward who took three days to text her.

A grin works its way onto your face as you grab your phone.

i suppose it depends on where you plan on taking her. it'll have to be somewhere prettyyyy nice if you made her wait three days for a text

He sends a link to a restaurant—it's an Italian place, and a quick glance at the menu shows it has no prices listed—pretty nice, indeed.

Is this nice enough?

If he were any other man, you might think he's being facetious, but in the few months you've known him, you've exchanged numerous sarcastic remarks with each other, never with any malice.

Another text pops up, as if he's getting nervous by your lack of reply.

I can find a different place if you don't like that one.

You smile to yourself, tapping out a response.

no that's perfect

I'll pick you up at 7

sounds good, i'm gonna head to bed, don't stay too late

I won't, I promise.

When you see Leon the next morning, he's already at his desk like he never left last night, and there are bags under his eyes. The sling he'd been wearing all week is notably missing; likely, he'd finally been cleared to stop wearing it. As you hand him his drink, you tease, "Hey, look at you, two working arms again."

"As good as new," he replies, accepting it tiredly.

"I take it you ended up staying late," you say.

He takes a gulp of it like it's the elixir of life, sighing contentedly into the cup. "Yeah, and I still didn't get the report done—might be easier now that I have two hands." His eyes finally scan over your figure, brows pinching together like he's taking notice of something. "You look nice."

The urge to poke at him a little wins out before you can even think better of it. "Do I not look nice normally?" you ask, no trace of humor on your expression.

His eyes widen, and you can see the way panic tenses through his entire body. "No," he says quickly. "That's not what I meant. You always look nice. I've just never—" His gaze flicks down to the pencil skirt you're wearing, different from the normal pantsuits you wear in the office, even more so from the tactical gear he's seen you in heading out on missions.

You come round the side of his desk, sitting against the edge of it as you lean over, voice low so none of the office busybodies hear, "Does the skirt do something for you, Agent Kennedy?" you question.

It's like he doesn't know what to do with his hands, gripping the faux leather of the armrests on his chair before lowering them to rub his sweaty palms flat against the tops of his knees. "Yes," he admits shyly at first, but he sees the teasing glint in your eye and grows bolder. "Would like to know the occasion so I might see you in it again."

You chuckle at his words, take a sip of your drink, and say, "I've got a deposition this afternoon on the Hill." You're not thrilled about it, and it's clearly written on your face. "Those idiots in Congress already like to rip into me for some shit that happened in West Africa a few years ago, like that wasn't BSAA's screw-up. I try not to give them much ammunition to use against me, which means dressing to old white conservative men's standards."

Leon seems to take affront to this answer, brows furrowing as a sneer makes its way onto his lips. "They make a habit of commenting on your clothes?" he asks.

Laughing a bit louder, you cross your arms before staring at him and realizing he's serious. "Leon, I'm a woman, of course, they comment on my clothes." That answer does nothing to diminish the perturbed expression. You soften your stance a bit, reaching out to comfortingly pat his shoulder. "Trust me, it's nothing I can't handle."

Before you can pull your hand away, he grabs it. You remember his skin being rough and callous from when you shook hands on your first day. It should be off-putting, but the way his thumb carefully caresses the top of your hand is anything but. "I know you're capable of handling a bunch of asshole politicians," he says softly. "I've seen you in action, I've read the reports—I know you're a great agent, and I wish you didn't have to bend to the whims of those people."

You fall silent for a moment, warmth spreading through your body originating from where your hands are joined. Admittedly, it's nice to hear someone acknowledge your hard work—you've spent so much of your career fighting and clawing to get to where you are. It hasn’t been easy; the constant dismissal you've faced because you’re a woman in this field—you just want to be taken seriously.

"I appreciate you saying that," you say. You squeeze his hand before reluctantly drawing away. "I gotta go meet my lawyer before we head down, but I'll see you later?" You don't mean for it to come out like a question, but there's a twinge of hope in your voice.

"Yeah, you'll have to let me know how it goes," he says with a smile.

"Bye, Leon," you breathe out as you leave.

Leon's eyes stay glued to you until you disappear into the elevator.

Several excruciating hours later, you're finally stepping out of your deposition, your ass numb from the god-awful chairs they force you to sit in, and you squint as if you've never seen sunlight before when you walk out of the building.

Pulling your phone from your purse, you see you have a text from Leon from only a few minutes ago.

Thought I might try this place.

It's accompanied by a picture of a coffee shop's storefront, different from your usual one. Cute is the first word that comes to mind as you stare at the photo—the building is bright pink with neon signs and flowers in the window.

feeling adventurous today agent kennedy?

The heels you're wearing are digging into the backs of your ankles and pinching your toes in all the wrong ways. You can't wait to shuck them off in favor of the more sensible shoes you have back at the office that you regrettably forgot to take with you to change into. Your phone pings again.

Are you finished with your deposition?

While you're walking, you snap a quick selfie—not caring that your hair is windswept or that it's probably from a bad angle. You just flash a thumbs up to the camera before sending it.

all done! mostly painless though congressman fowler is going to get my size 8 shoved up his ass if he makes another comment about how i conduct myself before the "esteemed members of congress" gagggg

As you make it to your car, your feet feeling like you're stepping on shards of glass with each step, you burst out laughing at Leon's next message.

I can call in a bomb threat to his office if you want.

is there actually going to be a bomb?

You reply as you slide into the driver's seat before typing out a second message.

actually don't tell me, i need to have plausible deniability

If I go down I'm taking you with me.

and just when i was beginning to think we were friends </3

You receive another picture: a cup holder safely placed in his passenger seat with two drinks in it.

I guess I just got these two drinks for myself then since we're not friends.

They must be from the new place he'd found, and for some reason, it amuses you to think of Leon Kennedy, dressed in all black with his furrowed brow, in a cute coffee shop ordering you coffee.

nvm all is forgiven <3 what did you get me?

Oh, how quick your tune changes when coffee is at stake.

You wonder if he's smiling like you are you type out your response.

i am a simple woman please don't take my coffee from me i had to deal with politicians today :(

I'll see you back at the office.

what does that mean leon

There's no answer.

leon what does that meaaaaaaan

When no reply comes, you figure he must be driving, so you start your car and head back to the office. As you pull into the parking garage, you spot a familiar figure leaning against a sleek black car. You pull into a nearby parking spot, not caring that your feet are aching as you saunter up to him, watching him as he watches you. "So, what did you get me?" you ask as you reiterate your previous query, reaching out toward the cup in his hand that he isn't drinking from, but he holds it up just out of your reach at the last second.

"Who says this is for you?" he questions with a smirk.

Your mouth drops open as if scandalized, as you recoil back dramatically with a hand poised at your chest. "I didn't know you could be so hurtful, Agent Kennedy."

In the privacy of the underground garage, Leon bends down closer to you, tilting his head as his gaze meets yours, eyes flicking briefly toward your lips before quickly looking back up. You feel your cheeks flush, nervousness flooding your insides from the intensity of his stare. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you glance down at the small space between you.

A fond smile forms on his face—maybe with a satisfaction at being the one to fluster you for once. "I'm just kidding," he assures softly as he gives you the coffee cup. With his now free hand, he plays with a lock of your hair that falls over your shoulder. "I'm excited for tomorrow."

You study his features, the sharp cut of his cheekbones contrasting with the gentle pout of his lips. There's an earnestness in his eyes—they burn cold, sharp like the ice that cracks beneath your feet on a frozen lake.

It is a plunge you think you'd gladly take.

A smile spreads across your lips as you take a sip of your drink, eyebrows rising at the new flavor. It's flowery—not as sweet as one might expect, but not bitter either. This is part of the little game you and Leon have been unintentionally playing over the past few weeks. While you've been able to pin down his favorite drink, he hasn't managed to find yours, so each time he gets you a coffee, it's a different one.

You've begun texting him a star rating for each one, though a 5-star rating remains elusive.

"Getting braver with your choices," you comment slyly.

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you like it?" he asks, and you see the flash of worry in his eyes. "I can go back an—"

Pressing a hand to his chest, you stop him mid-sentence, feeling how he leans into your touch. "Leon, I like it," you assure. "A solid... 3-stars." He frowns at the rating but seems at least pleased that you don't completely hate the drink he got you. "As much as I'd love to sit here and chat all day, these shoes are killing me, and I left my comfy pair at my desk."

"I can carry you," he offers quickly.

You glance up at him incredulously. "Yes, because that wouldn't make people talk, seeing you carry me into the office because of my poor choice of footwear." Your eyes quickly shift to the faint outline of his biceps through his suit jacket before a mischievous smile spreads across your face. "Besides, I don't think you'd be able to carry me that far." With that, you turn on your heel and begin walking toward the elevator.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he questions, clearly offended by your little quip.

"Nothing," you call out in a singsong voice, hearing his footsteps scramble to catch up with you.

You think he starts to say something about how much he can bench before deciding how self-absorbed that sounds, and instead he settles on a muttered, almost pouting, "I could carry you no problem."

"Mhm," you hum as you push the button to call the elevator and take a sip of your drink; for some reason, it tastes even sweeter with the simmering agent beside you.

You step in as the doors open, and he's close behind; you can feel the warmth of his body at your back. "Now who's being hurtful?" he whispers into your ear as he leans into you. The tickle of his breath against you sends a tingle all the way down to your practically numb toes.

When the doors close, you spin around and lay your hand against his chest. He seems surprised, but he doesn't resist as you push him back until he feels the cold metal of the elevator wall through his suit. "I'm just kidding, Leon," you murmur as you close the gap between you. His free hand moves to your hip, thumb tracing circles into the fabric of your skirt—resisting the temptation to dig his fingertips into your waist, to become more intimate with the curve of your body. "I know you could carry me."

"I could," he confirms quietly. His lips are so close to yours that you can almost taste the coffee on his tongue. There's something ravenous building in you, and you see it reflected in Leon—can see how he's about to surrender to the hunger as his eyes flutter shut and he slants his head to the side.

You're a hair's breadth from the edge when the elevator dings, signaling you've arrived at your floor. "I know," you whisper, then step away as the doors open. "Thanks for the coffee, Leon."

He's leaning against the elevator wall, left staring at you as you walk away, his gaze dropping to the gentle sway of your hips in the pencil skirt, committing it to memory.

That night, you're tearing through your closet, the panic of your date finally setting in. It's been far too long since you've gone on a first date—the nature of your job didn't leave much time for a social life, and even less time for relationships. Most people you've been with have been less than understanding of the weeks, sometimes months, you spend away on missions—if you even get to that point to begin with.

The perpetuity of an endless cycle of talking stages is soul-crushing.

You had almost given up on anything that wasn't a quick, one-time hookup.

As such, most of your wardrobe is dedicated to business wear for the few stretches of time when you're home long enough to be in the office, and more sensible, tactical clothing you wear when you're in the field. With the entirety of your closet now spread across your bed in various piles labeled 'no' and 'absolutely not', you're left staring at the final piece of clothing in your wardrobe.

It's a slinky black dress you bought on a whim a few years ago, probably a size too small now, if you could manage to squeeze into it, and made of a sleek silk. It's simple—maybe too simple for a first date, but your only other option is to find something tomorrow... if you even have time before the actual date.

You groan, grabbing the dress from the hanger, cursing Leon for scheduling a date so soon, and yourself for agreeing to it so easily. You hold your breath as you pull it on, and only after ensuring it actually zips do you release it, relief washing over you. Standing in front of your long mirror, you twist every way, smoothing your hands over the fabric.

You look… nice.

Really nice.

At least, you think you do.

You will yourself not to focus on where the dress hugs a little too tightly, knowing you'll only hyperfixate on things that you have no control over. Instead, you nod to yourself, muttering a soft and accepting, "Okay."

Excitement wells up in you as you take the dress off, carefully hanging it up on the back of your bedroom door. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you snap a picture of it, sending it to Leon with the message:

a little preview for tomorrow night :)

Setting your phone face down on your nightstand, you start putting everything back in your closet, trying not to give in to the impulse to just sit there staring at your phone until he responds. Even when you hear it vibrate, you resist the urge, only looking at it after you've put everything away nearly thirty minutes later.

Are you trying to kill me?

You grin.

no if i was trying to kill you, i'd show you what i was going to wear underneath

You quickly send a second message before putting down your phone.

goodnight!

You hear your phone go off once, then twice, and then a third time as you settle into bed. You take a peek at the notifications while promising yourself you won't respond.

Wait what are you wearing underneath?

Hellooo?

Sweet dreams.

Walking into the office the next day, you're smiling when you spot Leon hovering around your desk. It quickly drops from your lips when you finally see the grim expression he's wearing. As you set your stuff down in the chair, you ask, "What's wrong?" There's already anxiety tightening your chest.

"I'm being sent out on a mission," he says, a frown on his face.

You try to keep a neutral countenance as you accept the coffee cup he holds out, cradling it in your hands, appreciating the warmth it provides when the rest of your body suddenly feels cold. "When do you leave?"

Glancing down at his watch, he can hardly look you in the eye as he says, "Three hours."

"Oh," you murmur, trying not to let your disappointment show but ultimately failing. It's not like you didn't know this was a possibility—maybe you just naively thought you'd at least get through the first date without your jobs getting in the way.

Reaching out, he grabs your hand. "Can we reschedule?" he asks.

You nod, forcing a smile—this isn't Leon's fault, and you don't want him to feel worse than he already no doubt feels. "Yeah, of course."

"I'll text you, okay?" he offers—it's an olive branch, one you're glad to take.

"Okay," you say. "Make sure to check in when you can—" You freeze and grimace, realizing you might be overstepping some boundaries. You're not his girlfriend, you have no right to request him to keep in contact while he's away. "—If you're able to, or want to—"

"I will." He cuts you off before you can dig yourself deeper into a hole, a tender smile on his face as he holds your hand in his. "I'm really sorry," he murmurs.

"It's okay," you assure him, because it really is. "I get it, trust me, I get it." Your fingers play with his, thumb mapping the callouses built up along his hand from shooting—there's one right on the pad of his index finger that you find yourself delicately brushing against. "Just means I get to order the most expensive dessert on the menu when we go."

"Gonna make my wallet hurt, huh?" he teases.

You wink. "Think of it as a rescheduling fee."

He carefully extracts his hand from yours, as it pains him to do so, and checks his watch. "I have to go to the briefing, but I'll see you when I get back," he says as he pulls away, but he stops short just a foot or so away from you as if he's remembered something."You didn't answer me last night."

"Hm?" You pretend not to have a clue what he's talking about, sipping at your drink—it's a caramel macchiato, you realize.

He lowers his voice to make sure no one else can overhear. "About what's underneath."

Your eyes are wide with faux innocence. "Nothing," you answer.

His brows furrow. "What?"

"Nothing is underneath."

Understanding dawns on his face gradually, and you can see the flush that spreads up his neck to his cheeks, tinging the tips of his ears. You hide the shit-eating grin behind another sip of your coffee. "Right," he chokes out, as he forces himself to walk away before any of the follow-up questions escape his mouth.

You watch him go, eyes tracing the broad planes of his back, the tension clear in his shoulders, and you giggle to yourself.

You're not given much time to dwell on Leon's absence, as two days after, you're sent to Alaska—of all places—to follow up on a lead about a suspected BOW facility. It's cold, but a change in scenery is always welcome—especially when it helps distract you from the blue-eyed, brooding agent who's been plaguing your thoughts lately.

Speaking of—

You snap a picture of the snowy landscape—the sun has begun to set behind the snowcapped mountains. The clouds rolling across the sky are bathed in the purple of twilight, casting a soft pink glow against the white-coated crags. It's beautiful in a way that makes you feel insignificant.

You send it to Leon, not expecting an answer as you haven't heard anything from him since he left.

hope you're some place warmer than me right now

You get an answer four days later, and smile at the simple picture of a nondescript forest and the message that reads:

Why don't we ever get sent somewhere nice like Hawaii?

The lead ended up being a bust; you'd spent the better part of your time here trekking through the Alaskan wilderness with your team, though it wasn't as bad as you'd thought it'd be, even when you were trudging through snow waist-deep that left your entire body frozen to the bone. You send a selfie back, cheeks flushed red from the cold and face surrounded by the insulating fur of your heavy jacket.

idk the tundra has kind of grown on me

It's late in the day when you touchdown back in D.C., you snap a picture on the tarmac of the sun setting, sending it to Leon.

home

It's nearly 2 AM when you receive a similar message from him, though the sky is dark and the moon faintly hangs behind a cloud bank.

Home.

Even being woken up out of a dead sleep by your phone going off, you grin like an idiot against your pillow, barely able to type out a 'yay' in response through your bleary-eyed vision before you promptly pass out again, knowing the jetlag is going to be killer in the morning.

Predictably, you're dead on your feet as you walk into the office, two cups of coffee securely in your hands as you shuffle instinctively toward Leon's desk. You spot him hunched over his desk, seeming just as tired and miserable, though he lights up when he sees you coming his way. He's on his feet, meeting you halfway and guiding you toward the empty breakroom with his hands on your shoulders, where no prying eyes can watch your reunion, though you notice a few curious eyes following you both.

You let out a laugh as you hold out his coffee to him. "Good morning." He takes it before gently pulling you close. The tenderness he shows makes your heart swell. You reach up to wrap your arms around his waist, being careful not to spill your drink, inhaling his scent of smoke and gunpowder, muttering into the shoulder of his jacket. "Did you miss me or something?"

"Shut up," he murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply. "Did you know there's no cell service in rural Poland?" He withdraws slightly to catch your eye, his hand reaching up to trace the line of your jaw with something like reverence. You take a moment to survey him, searching for any injuries—you notice some bruising around his eye, a scab just above his lip, but apart from that, he looks unscathed.

"Probably about as much service as Alaska," you answer. "Deluca almost got mauled by a bear."

Leon's brows raise high on his forehead, eyes wide at the sudden shift in conversation, though he can tell by the giddiness in your voice that you've been waiting to tell him this little bit of information. "What?" he asks.

You're already laughing as you take your phone out of your pocket. "Yeah, I got it on video. The idiot thought he was a bear whisperer," you say as you hold your phone up for him to watch.

His gaze keeps darting between you and the screen, too distracted by your own reaction as you giggle behind your hand, watching Agent Deluca run for his life from a large grizzly bear he tried to approach like a scared dog in the streets. He's so captivated by the sparkle in your eye and how a dimple forms in your left cheek from smiling so hard.

"I was thinking, maybe this Saturday we could try for our date again," he says abruptly, cutting over the faint screams of Deluca in the background of your video.

You pause the video, tucking your phone back into your pocket as your face softens and you nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"I have a mission in Bethesda on Thursday, but it should be a quick turnover," he assures.

"From your mouth to God's ears, Leon Kennedy," you joke as he draws you back into a hug, and you feel his lips press to the top of your head. "Don't jinx yourself."

He jinxed himself. It's the only thing that comes to mind when you hear the news that his team, along with their target, Senator Eyre, were killed by explosives rigged to their vehicles. Remarkably, Leon managed to walk away relatively uninjured, or at least, that's what the report states.

He hasn't answered any of your texts or calls.

You try not to take it personally. You understand how this career can be—it's isolating, and most days, it's tough enough just to get out of bed. When something like this happens, though, it's devastating even for the most seasoned agents.

So you keep texting—sharing little updates, sending pictures of the sunset, your morning coffee, a bird hopping around on the sidewalk, just because it reminds you of him. You figure he hasn't told you to fuck off yet or blocked you, so maybe he's seeing them, or maybe he's not.

But you still want him to know you're thinking of him.

"Hi," a voice hesitantly calls out.

It jolts you, so focused on the screen in front of you that you didn't hear anyone sidle up next to your desk—and admittedly, you're running on barely any sleep after returning from a week-long mission in Vietnam.

You glance over at the blonde woman standing at your desk—she's young, and wearing a smile. Your gaze flicks down to her name badge—Sherry Birkin. "Hi," you greet back a bit awkwardly. You know the name—you're aware of her association with Leon, although it's only from official reports.

"I'm sorry, I know we haven't met before," she says as she extends her hand. "Sherry Birkin." The warmth in her demeanor makes it easy to respond kindly, so you take her hand to shake and offer your name, although you suspect she's already aware of who you are. "We share a common acquaintance—" She pauses. "Leon Kennedy."

Coldness washes over you as your stomach fills with dread. You turn in your chair to face her, giving the woman your full attention. "Is he okay?" you ask, voice shaking slightly as if you're anticipating the worst.

"I… think so," she says, uncertain. "He hasn't spoken to me—"

"—Hasn't spoken to me either," you interject, your expression mirroring her own dejection, though you suppose there's some solace in the fact he's not just ignoring you.

She frowns. "That's what I was afraid of," she murmurs to herself. "I may have… looked into it."

You quirk a brow. "Oh?"

She nods, leaning closer and talking in a hushed voice. "After he didn't answer my calls," she explains. "I… politely inquired with HR about his whereabouts—" You give her an amused look that signifies you definitely don't believe her. "—He's in Colorado, apparently he put in for an… extended vacation."

You're not sure what it is that swirls in your stomach—disappointment or maybe hurt, but your face falls. "Ah," you breathe out.

It's easy for Sherry to pick up on the sudden shift. "I just wanted to let you know," she says. "He… talked about you—a lot."

This information surprises you. "He did?" Your voice raises a pitch.

"He was really looking forward to your date… wouldn't shut up about it. I just—" She glances down, contemplating her next words. "—I want to ask you not to give up on him."

You're quiet for a moment as you observe her, seeing the way concern pools in her eyes. You don't know their relationship, but it's clear they're close, and she cares a great deal about him—you expect the opposite to be true as well. "I don't plan on it," you assure her.

A soft smile tugs at her lips. "Thank you," she says. "He's… he's gone through a lot, and I just worry."

"I get it," you tell her. "This job—this life… it takes a lot out of you."

You've faced more than your fair share of horrors and lost plenty of people along the way—you've fought your own demons and had to scrape and claw your way out of despair. Some days, it still feels like you're drowning in it—those are the days when you think it might be easier to just give in to the feeling.

Even before you befriended Leon, you knew who he was—of course, you did. One of the survivors of Raccoon City, the USSTRATCOM Agent who saved the President's daughter from the Los Iluminados nearly a decade ago. You can only imagine what he's seen—what he's had to do.

"Yeah," she agrees softly. "It does."

"I appreciate you letting me know," you say. "If—If you hear from him, could you let me know? Just so I know he's okay?"

"Of course." There's something so sincere about Sherry Birkin, you note. "It was nice to finally meet you—we should… get drinks or something sometime."

You smile. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

An incoming call from Leon lights up on your screen a week later. You're out on assignment—stateside, luckily, or rather unluckily, given the recent events that transpired. You answer the call immediately. "Hey," you greet casually, as if you're not perched atop a building, peering through the scope of your sniper rifle, phone cradled between your ear and shoulder.

"Hey," you hear him reply. He sounds tired, and there's a tug on your heartstrings.

"How was New York?" you question, eyes scanning through the scope as you track your target through the streets below—too many people around, you realize.

The question is enough to break the tension, and he gives a huff of laughter, though he sounds no less exhausted. "Not all it's cracked up to be," he answers. "Chris Redfield says 'hi', by the way."

You let out a disgusted noise at the mention of him. "I can't stand that man," you say bitterly.

The BSAA operator has been a thorn in your side for years, even before you started working for the DSO. His impulsive and stubborn disposition was the cause of most of your headaches when you first joined the FBI after leaving the army, thinking you'd left the world of military jugheads behind you—oh, how young and naive you were.

"He only had nice things to say about you," Leon muses, and you can tell from his tone that’s most definitely not true.

"Oh, I'm sure," you snort as you adjust your grip, keenly watching as your mark breaks from the crowded streets toward a more secluded area. "How did I even come up in conversation anyway?"

You hear him cough as if he had breathed in awkwardly. "I was… telling him about you."

"Oh?" you hum. "And just what were you telling him, Agent Kennedy?"

"Told him I had a date planned before everything went to shit… that I probably fucked it all up—"

You take the shot, and the man goes down like a sack of potatoes. "Target down," you say into your comms before giving the coordinates.

"—Are you on a mission right now?"

You begin to disassemble your rifle, quick and precise, as the clean-up crew no doubt makes their way onto the scene to take care of the body. "I was," you say. "It just ended." You press the clips on your gun case back into place with a firm click. "You didn't fuck anything up, by the way."

There's silence on the other end—you almost think you lost service as you enter the stairwell of the building through the roof access door you'd kept propped open until, "You free tomorrow?" he asks.

You smile, moving swiftly down the steps. "I'm sure I could pencil you in," you reply.

"I'll pick you up at 7," he says. "Get home safe, okay?"

When you reach the fire exit door at the bottom, you push through and find yourself in a side alley. "Good night, Leon," you say before hanging up, pulling your hood up as the police sirens start flooding the streets, and then you're gone, blending into the crowds.

He's at your door at 6:59 PM, and you're busy fastening an earring when you open it. The air leaves his lungs as he takes you in—seeing you in your black silk dress, hair done up, and a bit more makeup than you normally wear to the office.

You're busy giving him a once-over, you don't see the subtle shift in his expression, the way he closes himself off. "You clean up nice," you compliment as you finally get your earring in, fluffing your hair a bit more as you look in the mirror by your entrance.

"Thanks." He's quiet. "So do you."

"You ready to go?" you ask as you grab your purse.

"Yeah," he nods, and you lock your door behind you, offering him a smile that he doesn't return.

A frown forms as he begins to walk away—part of you expecting he would have offered his arm or hand. You try to shake off the uneasy feeling settling in your stomach, thinking maybe he's just nervous—you definitely are.

It only gets worse as the night progresses.

The car ride is mostly silent except for the low rumble of the local rock radio station — you try to ask a few questions, but are met with one-word, noncommittal answers that leave you feeling defeated before you even reach the restaurant. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes stay fixed on the road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

When you arrive at the restaurant, he maintains a respectful distance from you as you walk in, only doing the small courtesy of holding the door open for you. After you're finally seated at a small table, a candle burning low between you, hope flickers that now, face to face, he'll be more willing to talk as you both thank the hostess. "Any idea what you're going to get?" you ask.

"No," he answers, gaze focused solely on the menu in his hands.

"I was thinking—"

"Good evening," the waiter greets as he sidles up to your table, pouring water from a pitcher into the empty glasses in front of you. "Any drinks to start?"

"Just a glass of your Cabernet Sauvignon, please," you reply, and the waiter smiles at you before turning to Leon.

"Just the water is fine," he says, not even looking up at the man.

You see the waiter's brow twinge just slightly, and you give him an apologetic smile. "Thank you," you say weakly.

He inclines his head to you. "I'll be back with your wine," he assures.

Silence settles over the table. Surrounding you are other people—couples—talking and laughing together over their meals, and your heart tightens as you watch Leon from behind your menu. He hasn't even looked up at you once since you've sat down—probably has read the menu seven times by now.

"Do you know what you want?" Your voice is small—unsure and so unlike you that you can hardly believe it's your voice coming out of you, but now you're feeling like this whole situation has been a huge mistake that you've somehow pushed him into. There's a chasm forming in your chest, filling with dread.

"Yeah," he murmurs, though he doesn't set the menu down.

You gnaw at the inside of your cheek until you taste blood, mind desperately trying to find something—anything—to talk to him about that he hasn't already shut down in the car with his lackluster answers. "I met Sherry the other week," you decide on.

For the first time, his eyes briefly flick up to you. "She told me," he says.

"She's really sweet," you continue. "She… she seems really fond of you."

"I've known her since she was a kid," he answers in a way that doesn't invite any further comment.

You try to smile—try to come up with something else to say, but you're left floundering until the waiter returns with your glass of wine and takes your order. He must see the disappointment on your face because he offers you a sympathetic look as you tell him your order, while handing the menu back to him, and Leon does the same.

Without anything to focus on, he fidgets with the cloth napkin in front of him, expression impassive except for the clench in his jaw, as if he's grinding his teeth. You feel a familiar sting in your sinuses as you idly sip your wine, which is practically tasteless in your mouth, trying to stave off the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

With every second that passes, your heart pounds against your ears so loudly it feels like the world around you is muffled, though you're keenly aware of your own breathing. A thin sheen of sweat forms on your skin even though you feel completely freezing. The dress you were so excited to wear now feels suffocating, as you've become hyperaware of all the parts of your body that it fits too tightly on.

Abruptly, you set your glass down and say, "Excuse me, I'm going to go to the bathroom."

You don't give him a chance to say anything with how quickly you get up, though you doubt he would have anyway. Once inside the safety of the bathroom, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror, taking a inhaling deeply to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. Your chest feels like it's caving in, and you're now sure that you've somehow misunderstood the situation between you and Leon.

It's making you feel crazy.

You exhale shakily, grabbing your phone to scroll through your message thread with him, searching for any sign that he wasn't as interested as you initially thought. It only makes his current behavior even more confusing. You try to recall every single interaction you've had, where he was the one to reach out to you, and you can't understand this sudden coldness.

There's a second when you consider calling Sherry to see if she might have any insight into why he's acting this way, but it feels wrong to involve her in whatever is going on, especially since she was the one who told you how excited he had been about the date. Instead, you tuck your phone back into your purse and try to breathe steadily as you turn the faucet on.

As you pump some of the fancy-smelling soap into your hands, you start to scrub your skin, your mind spinning in circles. Maybe while he was away, he realized he didn't like you as much as he thought, and this dinner was meant to let you down easy. Or maybe he met someone else and doesn't know how to tell you.

Every single reason that comes to mind only causes anger to grow inside you because there's no excuse for him to treat you so coldly. You at least believed you were good enough friends for him to be honest with you.

When you think you've rubbed your skin raw, you shut off the water and violently grab the paper towels to dry your hands. Your walk back to the table is more dignified, the tears gone from your eyes, replaced by a quiet fury.

You see that your food was brought out while you were gone, and Leon is slowly picking at his plate. As you sit down, you grab your wine glass, knowing you might need the extra bit of courage for whatever is to come, and down the rest of it in one gulp. "Food good?" you ask as you wipe at the corners of your lips.

He gives an indecisive shrug, and that's your breaking point.

"What is going on?" you question, low, but firm.

He must hear the anger in your voice because he actually looks up at you, expression feigning confusion as if he doesn't know where your unexpected question is coming from. "We're… having dinner?" he offers.

"You've barely spoken to me all night," you say, voice rising slightly as you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the hot sting of scorned fury prickling under your skin.

"We've… talked," he tries to assert, though you can tell even he doesn't believe his own words.

You cock your head, staring at him like he's the stupid one. "Are you serious?" You twist the napkin in your lap so hard you think you might tear through the fabric. "Do you even like me, Leon?"

He seems taken aback, recoiling away from you as if you struck him, and his eyes drop to the table between you, but he stays silent, which is more than enough of an answer for you. Swiftly, you push your chair back, toss your napkin onto your untouched food, and grab your purse.

"Wait, where are you going?" he calls out, but for the first time tonight, you're the one ignoring him as you march out of the restaurant, unconcerned with the curious stares that follow you, intending to walk down the street before you realize he'd driven you here.

You huff in frustration, pulling out your phone to find a number for a taxi service, but your anger has shifted to sadness, and tears cloud your view, making it impossible to read the screen. You hear him call out your name, and you let out an exasperated noise as you begin to walk further down the street away from him.

Hurried footsteps approach you, and you feel hands gripping your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. You finally realize how cold the night air is when you feel the warmth of his body behind you. "What are you doing?" he asks, confused.

"Calling a cab," you manage to say, though your throat constricts as you try to pull away from him to no avail. Embarrassment wraps around you as your voice breaks, despising how pathetic you sound.

"Hey," he murmurs tenderly, with more care than he's shown you all night, as he circles around to face you, hands gripping the exposed skin of your upper arms. "No, if you—if you want to go home, let me drive you."

"Why?" you spit out. "So you can ignore me some more?" It should feel childish to say that, and maybe tomorrow you'll think differently, but right now your feelings are hurt, and you just want to go home.

He shakes his head. "No, c'mon," he urges, trying to get you to look at him, but you're stubbornly refusing, settling to stare at the repeating pattern on his tie—you'd thought it was cute that he'd worn a tie on your date. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"If you didn't like me, you could have just said so from the start instead of pretend—"

"I do like you," he interrupts like he's desperate to get you to understand.

Sharply, your eyes snap up to him, and his face falls when he sees the tears that are beginning to streak down your cheeks. "You're sure not acting like it tonight," you argue. "I thought I was going crazy—that I… that I just missed some sign that you didn't feel the same about me."

"You didn't miss anything," he says. "I'm just… I'm an idiot who is terrible at this."

You give him a look of disbelief, nostrils flaring. "At what? Conversation? Yeah, I'd say so after tonight's performance."

He winces even though he knows he deserves that scathing remark. "No—I mean, well, yes, apparently. It's just… being vulnerable, and… letting myself look forward to something," he explains. "Everything just kept going wrong, and you're just… so understanding even after I fell off the face of the earth for weeks."

"You went through something traumatic, Leon," you murmur, arms crossing and gaze settling on the lampost just over his shoulder.

"See?'' he says, gesturing toward you. ''You're… you're so put together, and I'm a mess.'' Your eyes jerk back up to him, and you see the defeat in his eyes, like he thinks he doesn't deserve the kindness you've shown him. It makes the tightness in your face soften, hands falling to your sides, abandoning your defensive posturing. ''You opened the door tonight, and I realized you're something I don't ever want to ruin, and I'm so afraid I'm going to do that.''

"Do you think I'm not a mess, Leon?" you question with a humorless chuckle. "You don't get into this business without having more than a few skeletons in your closet. Some people are just better at hiding theirs than others."

His brows come together. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like you don't understand what I'm going through."

"I was worried for you," you admit, reaching out and tugging him closer by his tie to bridge the gap between you. "You can't just… disappear to Colorado to get shitfaced. It's not healthy—and I…" You pause. "I felt sad for you, but you can't just keep it bottled up. You need to talk to someone—me, Sherry, or hell, even Chris fucking Redfield."

He lets out a laugh. "Yeah," he nods, staring down at you fondly. "You're right."

"I know I'm right," you say sharper than you mean to, but you take a deep breath to calm yourself. "I'm not asking you to be perfect. I just… I really like you, Leon, and you hurt my feelings tonight."

"I know," he exhales as he reaches up to cup your jaw. "I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot."

"And you're not going to ruin me," you say. "I'm built pretty sturdy. I just need you to be willing to communicate with me."

A small smile forms on his face. "Okay," he agrees softly.

You feel lighter, most of the anger and sadness of the night washing away. "Okay," you repeat back, tender and pliant as your thumb rubs at the fabric of his tie.

"I really like you, too," he says. "Probably more than is appropriate."

At the confession, you simper, head tilting into his touch as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes. "Is that so?" you ask.

"Mhm," he confirms, thumb brushing up against your cheek. "And now I keep thinking about what you told me about the dress."

Confusion tints your expression. "What about the dress?"

"About what's underneath." You can see his pupils blown wide as his hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Would you like to find out?" His fingertips dig into your hip at the question, breath hitching in his throat. "I could think of a few things that would turn this night around."

He's leaning closer, like he's caught in your orbit. "What would that be?"

You think it must be the glass of wine finally kicking in as you say, "I might be inclined to forgive you depending on how many times you can make me cum."

The muscle in his jaw flexes as he clenches his teeth. You can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. "How many times for me to repent?" he asks.

You pretend to think, gaze flicking up to the dark sky above as you hum. "Maybe I'll consider it after two."

He exhales a shuddering sigh. "C'mon," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he leads you toward where he parked his car. A perfect gentleman now, he opens the door for you, ensuring you're settled into the passenger seat before closing it and rounding to the driver's side.

His hand stays on your thigh throughout the drive—firm and steady. The closer he gets to your apartment, the tighter his grip on your thigh becomes—anticipation coiling inside of him. You're no better, the heat of desire scorching through your veins, though a small part of you wants to make him suffer just a little, so you diligently keep your hands to yourself.

If he pulls into the parking spot a little crooked, you don't comment on it as he cuts the engine before sending you a warning look when you go to open the door. With more patience than you probably should have at this point, you wait for him to open the door for you, grabbing his outstretched hand and letting him haul you out of the car.

He holds you to his side as you walk into your apartment building, and once you're inside the elevator, he's behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he kisses into your neck, leaving you a giggling mess.

"This is the slowest elevator ever," he complains gruffly into the bare skin of your shoulder just as it dings, signaling your arrival on your floor.

You already have your keys in your hand, knowing that if you take too long to open your door, he might just break it down. He's quick to usher you into the apartment once you've gotten the door open, closing it behind him.

In one swift motion, your back is pressed to the door, and before he closes the distance between the two of you, he questions, "This is okay, right?"

You nod hastily, breathing out a soft 'yeah', and then there's just the warmth of his lips against yours. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your ribcage as he deepens the kiss, a noise of contentment resonating from his throat as he runs his hands up your sides. Your own trail up his chest coming to rest at the base of his skull, curling your fingers through his hair to draw him even closer.

His mouth is hot against yours, growing braver with each passing second as his tongue licks against your bottom lip before he nips it gently, drawing a gasp from you. He's grinning as he pulls back to look at your flushed cheeks, adoration heavy in his gaze. "Leon," you pant out, eyes half-lidded and want swelling in you.

"Turn around." He doesn't give you the chance to, as he manhandles you into position, the coolness of your door against your cheek as you brace yourself with the palms of your hands. As he rucks up your dress, you hear the sharp inhale as he pulls it over your ass. "Fuck," he practically groans, hands kneading the globes of your ass, spreading them just enough to see the glistening slick of your bare pussy from behind. "You weren't lying."

"Did you think I was?" you ask, breathless from the way the cool air hits your hot core.

"Didn't want to get my hopes up," he admits as he kicks a leg in between yours, forcing your legs apart before sliding a hand down to rub at your cunt. Moaning, you arch your back against his touch, a shiver running through you as he brushes against your clit. "God, you're so wet."

You close your eyes, focusing on the slide of his fingers against you, coating his fingers in your juices. His nose jams into the crook of your neck as he plunges a singular finger into you, lips pressing against the quickening pulse in your neck.

"All this for me?" he murmurs, as his other hand slips one of your dress straps off your shoulder, palming one of your breasts with a satisfied noise, before adding a second finger just as he tweaks your nipple, relishing in the way you gasp, arching back into him.

You're nodding your head to his answer, gasping out a 'yes' as you turn to lay your forehead against your door to cool off the fevered temperature of your skin, though it does nothing for the rest of your body, which feels like it's on fire.

"Can't wait to taste you," he murmurs lowly into your ear, sending goosebumps trailing up your spine. "Need you to cum on my fingers first though." The hand on your breast trails down your front, the pads of his fingers catching onto your clit and circling it in slow, purposeful patterns. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you moan, fingernails scraping against the wood, trying to find purchase on anything as the coil in your stomach tightens with every precise swipe of his fingers. You feel it in your toes, head dizzy as he whispers words of encouragement into your ear, pressing soft kisses into your jawline so sweetly like he's not knuckle deep in your pussy with your slick dripping down his wrist. "Leon, oh—"

He can feel the way you clench around his fingers as you teeter over the edge, gasping out his name in a way that makes him strain painfully against his pants. "That's it," he says, talking you through it. "Sound so pretty when you cum, know that?"

Your moans pitch higher as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, ensuring you're thoroughly worked through your orgasm before finally withdrawing them. The steady presence of his body behind yours is the only thing keeping you upright as your legs feel like they might give out beneath you at any moment. His hands grip your waist as his lips press to your temple.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asks quietly.

You vaguely gesture over your shoulder toward the hall. "First door on the left," you manage to say as you think you're finally regaining feeling in your lower limbs, and then you're being hauled up with a surprised squeak, your hands coming up to grab Leon around his neck as if he would drop you.

"Told you I could carry you," he grins as he heads toward your bedroom.

"Mm, yes," you murmur, a renewed desire pooling in your cunt at the display—not that you would ever admit that to him aloud. "Glad those muscles aren't just for aesthetics."

He laughs as he carefully navigates through the doorway of your bedroom, then haphazardly throws you onto the bed while tugging at his tie, loosening it just enough to undo the top two buttons on his shirt before grabbing your ankles and dragging you until your backside hits the edge of the bed.

"Leon—"

"Told you I wanted to taste you," he interrupts as he kneels in front of you like you're a sacrament he's about to receive. His fingers bore into the plush flesh of your thighs as he spreads you open for him, your dress gathering up at your hips, leaving you bare before him. "Fuck, you're so pretty." His voice is practically a whimper as he fights the temptation to palm himself through his slacks, mouth watering at the way your cunt glistens in the dim light of the moon that filters through the sheer curtains on your window.

He leans down, gently kissing your inner thigh before nipping at the tender skin, taking pleasure in the sharp gasp that escapes above him. Trailing his lips up until his breath fans against your pussy, and your chest blooms with suspense, the anticipation of his hot mouth against you consumes your thoughts. His eyes flick up to meet yours as you're propped up on your elbows, staring down at him through half-lidded eyes. Your breasts spill out of your dress, heaving. "You waiting for an invitation or—"

His tongue licks a wide stripe up your center, your words getting caught in your throat as you moan. He doesn't tease; instead, he dives in as if he intends to devour you, eyes staying focused upward, watching as your head tilts back. One hand grasps desperately at the comforter beneath you, while the other instinctively finds purchase at the back of his head, fingers weaving through his hair in an unrelenting grip that sends a wave of searing thrill straight to his cock.

The noises are obscene as he eats you out, his own spit mixing with your slick, dripping down his chin. The sting of you tugging at his hair only drives him, paired with your hitched moans, and the way you gasp out 'fuck, Leon' when he sucks at your clit just right. He's savoring the taste of you, swallowing you down with every flat press of his tongue against you, moaning into your pussy as your scent envelopes him.

While one hand stays firmly on your thigh, feeling the way your muscles tense with every swipe of his tongue, he uses the other to thrust two fingers into you in a way that makes your eyes roll back in your head, your head lolling. No longer able to hold yourself up, you collapse onto your bed. He doubles his efforts, crooking his fingers to make your toes curl as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

He's steady in his administration, keenly listening to every one of your reactions to every flick of his tongue, and thrust of his hand, deciphering precisely what you like in record time.

"Leon, I'm—"

That's all the warning he gets as your thighs clench around his head, fingernails biting into his scalp as you thrust your hips up against his face, and he only groans, not caring when he finds he can't breathe, and his eyesight gets spotty, all noise muffling around him in favor of the sweet pressure of your thighs crushing him.

As the final waves of your second orgasm crash over you, your legs fall open as you pant heavily, the world sounding like you're swimming in a fishbowl, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Leon is no better, cheek resting against your inner thigh as he catches his breath, pressing one last kiss to your cunt before crawling up to you and gently laying a kiss on your lips. You return it with much more enthusiasm, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and mashing your mouths together, not caring that his is covered in the taste of you.

He licks into your open mouth, before pulling back just slightly, leaving a trail of spit between you. "That was two," he murmurs against your mouth. "How am I doing?"

"Exceptional," you sigh out. "I'm almost inclined to say all is forgiven."

He grins; it's far too endearing when he has your slick glossing his chin. "What else does a guy gotta do to earn your forgiveness?"

You press a hand to his chest, and he moves away willingly until he's sitting at the edge of the bed, watching with curious eyes as you stand before kneeling between his legs, which spread to accommodate you.

His breath stutters as he exhales your name. "What're you doing?"

"Sucking your cock," you say as you begin to undo his belt.

"Oh," he says rather lamely. "This is supposed to be about you—"

"Well, I want to suck your cock," you reaffirm, gazing up at him. "You gonna stop me?"

"God, no," he says as his hands scramble to join yours, undoing his pants and adjusting so he can pull them down. You're met with the pretty sight of his cock bobbing in front of your face, and you wrap your hand around him. He's painfully hard, tip reddened and leaking with precum—the weight of him in your palm makes your pussy clench around nothing, and as you give him an experimental stroke, he gasps.

You bite your lip to hold back a smile, slowly moving your hand up and down, spreading the precum along the shaft, appreciating how you can see the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten as he pulls up his shirt out of your way.

Tentatively, you lean down, licking the fat tip of his cock, and he whines out a 'fuck' as he gathers your hair up into his fist, keeping it out of your way as you open your mouth to take more of him in. Carefully, you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Letting your jaw hang open, you will yourself to relax while he tries to restrain the way he wants to cant his hips up to gag you on his cock.

"You're so good," he groans. "Fuck, you're so good for me."

You can feel the way you're dripping down your thighs at his words as you hollow your cheeks and suck in a way that makes his vision go white while your one hand works the rest of his shaft that you can't fit into your mouth. Drool pools out of the corners of your lips, and you moan around his cock as you shove your other hand in between your own thighs, plunging your fingers into your cunt, though after being stuffed full of Leon's, it hardly compares, and you're only left aching.

The sight of you in between his legs, fingering yourself while you're sucking his cock makes his control falter. His fingers curl around the back of your head, forcing you further down onto his cock in a way that makes you gag, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, but it doesn't deter either of you as you try to swallow around his cock, the sensation causing his breath to catch in his throat. "Fuck, fuck," he whines, and he can feel his balls tightening, his own orgasm quickly about to settle over him.

Hastily, he yanks you off him, panting heavily as he tries to rein himself in. You wipe the corners of your mouth, blinking back the tears that had gathered from how deep in your throat he'd been. "You okay?" you ask.

"Almost came," he admits.

You give a huff of hoarse laughter. "Yeah, that's the point, Leon."

He shakes his head, grabs you, guiding you back on your feet, so you're standing between his legs. He gathers your dress, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you standing naked in front of him. "I'll cum down your throat another time," he says as he allows you to completely undo his tie, tossing it somewhere in your room before you start to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. His fingers wander up your bare skin, indenting into the plushness of your curves. "Wanna cum in you first."

You grin as he palms your breasts, something like satisfaction in his expression at the weight of them in his hands, while you settle yourself into his lap, his cock pressed between the two of you as you bend down to kiss him. "Awfully bold of you," you murmur.

His hands reach down, grabbing the globes of your ass and pulling you further against him, grinding the shaft of his cock against your pussy. "Name your price, sweetheart," he whispers. "I'll do whatever you want, just wanna be dripping out of you by the end of it."

"How about—" You lift up, grabbing his cock with one hand as you usher him toward your entrance. "—You be a good boy and let me ride you, and once I cum again, I'll let you cum inside, okay?"

He's nodding eagerly, the words 'good boy' coming from your mouth instantly making him compliant. His eyes roll to the back of his head as his tip slips into you; the wet, tight heat of your cunt would probably make him agree to anything you request at this point. "Whatever you want," he repeats in a desperate whimper, fingertips digging into your waist—it would no doubt leave bruises in the morning—as you slide down his cock in one fluid motion that knocks the wind out of both of you.

"Leon," you moan, and his head drops forward, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as you start to rock your hips back and forth in a delicious cadence.

"God, you're so tight," he grits out, mouth biting at the delicate skin at the crook of your neck, intending to leave his mark on you. "Been thinking about this for so long."

"Yeah?" you murmur. "Spend a lot of time thinking about me bouncing up and down on your cock, Agent Kennedy?"

He groans. "You're the reason half of my reports are late."

Your hand rises, lightly pressing against the base of his throat, and when you hear his sharp inhale, you increase the pressure slightly. "Poor Agent Kennedy," you lament sarcastically. "How will you ever cope?"

He lets out a shuddered sigh as the rhythm you've set begins to build him back to the precipice. Lips press to your shoulder before his teeth dig in; his bruising grip is constant, but not unpleasant—the painful sting is just enough to make your cunt flutter around him.

Closing his eyes, he tries to stave off his release; the need to please you is far greater than his need to cum. "Hopefully buried deep in this pussy," he answers before opening them to look at you once more.

You grin, it's devastating and vicious, hips canting faster as the muscles in your thighs burn, but it only adds to the pleasure pooling in your core. You grab one of his hands that has a death grip on your hip, wrenching it from you to bring it up to your mouth, tongue flicking out against his thumb before your lips wrap around it, and he is enraptured by the sight, cock twitching inside of you as his gaze grows hazy.

"Fuck," he whines, watching you coat his thumb with your spit.

"Make me cum," you order as you guide his hand down to your pussy, and he follows your lead, thumb finding your swollen clit to begin tracing slow circles against it. He sees the way your eyes briefly close at the sensation, your hips stuttering just a bit before you continue to ride him in earnest, every sweet drag of his cock in your pussy driving you closer and closer to the end.

"C'mon," he nearly begs, trying to compel you toward completion, not knowing how much longer he himself can hold out. "Cum for me, sweetheart, c'mon," he says.

With one last swipe against your clit, you feel yourself fall over the edge as you grind down on him. "Shit, shit, shit," you moan as your thighs shake, movement coming to a shuddering halt as pins and needles start to prick all throughout your body. Leon feels the gush of your liquid release around his cock, and that's all it takes for him to have you on your back in the next instant.

He's pounding into you now with reckless abandon, the slap of your skin against his paired with the sound of his cock bullying into your sopping wet pussy is intoxicating. He gives you no time to recover from your orgasm, enjoying the way the overstimulated tears streak down your flushed face before his eyes focus on the way your breasts bounce up and down with each hard thrust.

"Gonna let me cum in you now?" he asks breathlessly as he cages you between his arms, muscles tense from the strain.

You're holding onto his shoulders, gasping with each hard thrust into you, still bleary-eyed from your last orgasm, nails biting into his skin, digging crescent divots into him, but nodding desperately. "Want your cum," you keen. "Please, Leon."

"Fuck." His hips snap into yours as he sinks his head into the crook of your neck, moaning out your name as he cums, burying his seed deep inside of you. You can feel the warmth of it, the twitching of his cock as he empties into you, and you clench around him, listening to him whimper into your ear. He continues thrusting until he's sure he's filled you.

You're both gasping for air as the aftershocks of your orgasms subside, and Leon pulls away just slightly to press a kiss to your lips, tenderly cupping your jaw.

"Was that okay?" he questions, panting heavily.

You laugh, and it makes him smile. "Five stars," you say, giving a weak thumbs up, your entire body shaking.

He chuckles against your cheek, kissing up the side of your face to your temple. "Where's your bathroom?" he asks.

"Across the hall," you answer.

He's careful as he pulls out of you, gently massaging your hips when you wince. "You okay?"

"We're going to be putting your ability to carry me to the test tomorrow," you say. "I don't think I'm going to be able to walk."

He rolls his eyes, but there's a fond grin on his face as he makes his way to the bathroom. He comes back a few minutes later with a warm, wet washcloth, and the care he takes in cleaning you up almost brings you to tears. You mutter a soft 'thank you' as he tucks you both into bed, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

The lull of sleep settles over you rather quickly, and you're barely awake, listening to the steadiness of Leon's breathing behind you as his thumb traces circles onto your hip. "You're forgiven," you murmur into your pillow, unsure if he's still awake or not.

He holds you tighter in response.

The next morning, you're both cuddled up on your couch, watching reruns of your crappy reality TV show, sharing a plate of slightly burnt pancakes, and enjoying your morning coffee… or well, tea for you.

"Why didn't you tell me you preferred tea?" Leon asked as he watched you prepare your beverage.

You only grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I don't mind coffee, plus… I enjoyed seeing what you thought I might like."

"So, why is she mad at Gino?" he questions as he tries to follow along with the drama.

As you're busy explaining the intricate dynamic of the couple on the screen between bites of breakfast, his phone pings, and you both instinctively look down at it. That's when you notice the lockscreen—it's a picture you'd sent him a few weeks ago of a cute sidewalk mural you found, with the shadow of your figure cast over the ground, holding up a peace sign.

"Is that my photo?" you question, already knowing the answer.

"Uh," he stutters, embarrassed. "Yeah."

You blink, processing the information. "I wasn't sure you were looking at those," you admit.

"I was," he says before opening the gallery on his phone. "I saved them all."

You're unsure why tears form in your eyes upon seeing a folder in his phone; no actual name, just a small coffee cup emoji as the label, and when he opens it, you notice every single picture you've sent him safely stored inside.

When he hears you sniffle, he stares at you, startled. "Wait, why are you crying?"

"That's just so nice!" you blubber, nearly sending the plate of pancakes flying as you quickly reach up to brush away the tears.

I wanna make things with my hands!!

You used to squeal as a child whenever someone asked what you wanted to be when you grew up. The laughter that followed always left you quietly confused.

What a cutie.

Wait till she grows up.

As if you weren't standing right there. As if it really was unattainable.

As you got older, that desire only split open and spilled into everything else—into baking, painting, shaping.

Anything that lets your hands create something beautiful. Something meaningful.

Over time, you realized it wasn't just about making things. It was about the space to make them—to exist without being watched, corrected, rushed. To live somewhere quiet enough that your thoughts could finally settle.

It wasn't that you were a complete introvert. You loved people—you loved the ones who mattered. But there was always that persistent pull, that quiet urge to disappear for a while. To exist in a world that belonged only to you. You would spend days on end just imagining.

And lately, that wasn't enough anymore.

You didn't just want escape. You wanted peace. Quiet.

Which was why you took the first opportunity to leave everything behind—a small farming town in rural England, offering work in exchange for relocation. Painting homes. Restoring old businesses. Fixing what had been forgotten.

Everyone had something to say about it. Your family. Your friends. Even your professors warned you against it.

But you didn't hesitate.

You've technically been here for a week already. Long enough to learn the unfamiliar quiet by heart, to wait while the cottage was cleared and signed off and made official. This is the first time you're really standing in front of it.

Ideas crowd your mind faster than you can catch the—paint, repairs, small changes that would make it yours. Your chest tightens, heart swelling, a quiet certainty settling in.

The place is neglected. Weathered. Clearly left behind.

And yet, all you can see is possibility.

For the first time in a long while, it feels like everything is falling into place.

"Excuse me?"

You're pulled from your thoughts by the soft voice beside you. You blink, realizing the man has been standing there the entire time.

He smiles, polite but tentative. "I just wanted to make sure everything was to your liking. It's an older cottage, so...lt isn't exactly our best."

"No," you say quickly, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "It's perfect."

Something about your response seems to catch him off guard. He clears his throat.

"Right. Then there are just a few things we should go over before we-"

A sound cuts him off.

An animalistic, sharp, distant squeal loud enough to make you flinch, the noise carrying unnaturally through the trees. You turn instinctively, scanning the hillside.

Up the slope, partially hidden by the trees, stands a barn. One you hadn't noticed before. The doors open with a loud thud.

For a split second, you don't register what you're seeing—only that something too big has stepped into the light.

Then your stomach drops.

The man fills the doorway, massive shoulders nearly scraping the frame, his silhouette swallowing what little light spills out behind him. He's enormous-not just tall, but wide, built thick and heavy like he was carved for brute force rather than grace.

He's covered in blood everywhere. Dark, soaked into his clothes, smeared across his arms, clinging in thick, ugly patches that glisten wetly in the sunlight. There's a faint metallic smell that drifts through the air, making you scrunch your nose.

To top it off, he had a skull—patterned balaclava covering the lower half of his face.

The printed grin feels out of place against the quiet countryside, against the green fields and open sky. You can't see his mouth. Can't read his expression. Just the size of him, the way he carries himself like nothing around here surprises him anymore.

Your shoulders tense on instinct.

It was straight out of a horror movie.

"Um," you let out a small laugh, more nerves than humor honestly. "Is that... normal?"

"Oh—yeah." The man beside you clears his throat.

"Yeah, that'll be Simon. Local butcher." He gives a small, awkward laugh. "Looks worse than it is."

Suddenly, you remember everything they warned you about.

A woman alone in the woods.

Right.

You watched cautiously as the man walked toward the cottage right next to the barn, slightly more hidden in the woods than yours, slightly smaller as well.

His steps are steady, boots pressing into the dirt with an easy familiarity, like he's walked this path a thousand times.

Halfway there, he slows and glances over.

Just a look - brief, assessing—the kind of look anyone might give when they notice someone new standing where no one usually does. You tell yourself that immediately.

Still, your chest tightens in an unsettling way.

Even from this distance, his attention feels heavier than it should. He doesn't smile. Doesn't wave. Just takes you in for a moment longer than you're comfortable with.

"Don't mind him. He's a private bloke—won't be any bother."

You nod slowly as you turn, stepping back toward the cottage, the normal sounds of the countryside slowly filtering back in—though the image of him, bloodstained and broad-shouldered against the barn, stays longer than you'd like.

His view of you was completely different.

All he saw was a small figure standing out in the open.

Too small for this place.

You were dressed simply, soft neutral colors that didn't draw any immediate attention—yet somehow, you managed to draw it anyway. A long skirt brushing your ankles. A fitted tube top clinging in all the right places, bare skin catching the last of the daylight. Gold glinting faintly at your throat and wrists.

He has been watching you since the moment you arrived.

Could see you almost too clearly.

The thought settled heavy in his chest. The cottage next to his. Empty for years.

And now occupied.

His hand tightened around the handle of the front door as he went inside, the knowledge of you settling somewhere in the back of his mind.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You wake up before the sun does.

The room is still dark, the cold from the night before still lingers stubbornly around the corners. The smell of wood and damp earth seeps into your space as you lie still beneath the covers, listening to the sound of your breathing and distant chirping of birds.

The nerves you thought you left behind start to stir low in your stomach. You barely slept, drifting in and out of shallow rest. It's funny how the waiting -the planning and the packing was easier than actually waking up inside this new life. A whole week spent imagining, filling the gaps with maybes and what-ifs, had felt gentler than this moment.

But now, lying in your own bed, on the edge of your first real day here, the anxiety creeps back into you like it never really left.

You force yourself up, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield against the morning cold. The wooden floor bites at your bare feet as you cross the room.

You move through your room on autopilot. Pushing aside clutter and digging through your box filled with your things to wash up. You pull on a simple black crop top and black leggings—easy and practical, something you don't mind making a mess out of. You fix your hair the way you always do before big jobs, muscle memory taking over as you gather your tools, hand steady despite the tight, resistant pull in your chest.

Your first job is a simple mural for a little flower shop in town.

You'd already been introduced earlier in the week.

Names, faces, smiles. Florence, the owner, had shown you the wall, fingers dusted with soil, excitement bright in her eyes. They'd given you free rein over the design, only asking that you keep to a preferred color palette.

"Okay," you mutter to yourself, crouching by your supplies. "One, two, three-"

You line the cans up on the floor. Reds. Yellows. Whites. Count them twice. Then again.

"Four."

You tap each lid as you go, checking them off in your head like that'll keep your nerves in place. Everything's been ready since last night. Packed. Repacked. Adjusted.

You're stalling. You know you are.

Keys cold in your palm, you stand by the door longer than necessary. Your hand rests on the handle. You inhale once before stepping out.

A loud, wet huff greets you immediately.

You freeze.

Right behind you—way too close—is a dog. If you could actually call it that.

He doesn't look very friendly. Honestly, you can't even process whether or not he is friendly by the way he stands there.

He's massive—thick-chested, broad, and you're pretty sure you saw veins popping out of his shoulders, only reinforcing how strong this dog could be. His paws dig heavy into the dirt at the bottom of your porch. Drool clings to the sides of its mouth, slipping free as it stares at you.

And for a fleeting second, the image of yesterday resurfaced. Barn doors, and a blood covered man standing in the middle of the field.

Your heart jumps straight into your throat.

You lift your hand instinctively, bending just slightly at the knees before you can stop yourself.

"Oh-okay," you breathe. "This is... fine."

"Hi," you try, softer. "Hey, puppy."

The dog doesn't move, just tilts his head to the side.

You glance around, suddenly very aware of how quiet it is. No neighbors. No cars. Just you and the beast blocking your path.

The distant sound of a truck came before you could react, stopping abruptly in front of you.

"Oi," the voice is rough and hoarsed.

"Mate. What'd I tell you?" He reaches over and pushes the door open from the inside.

The dog perking up instantly before running toward him obediently, tail wagging like nothing just happened.

It's only then you realized who it is. Who's standing in front of your door.

The butcher straight out of a slasher movie.

"You botherin' this bunny?" he asks the dog while scratching the back of his ears, happily wiggling his short tail.

Bunny?

"No bunny, just me," you laugh awkwardly before you step down off the porch, forcing yourself to stand straight even though your grip tightens on your bags.

He huffs, something close to a chuckle. "Right."

"Sorry about him," he adds.

"He likes to wander."

"You sure about that?" you ask, looking at the dog.

"Because he looked like he wasn't planning on leaving."

His lips twitches, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Saw you movin' your things yesterday," he says. "The place's been empty for a long time."

"Yeah," you reply quickly. "Feels a little weird, but I'll make it a home."

"Takes time," he shrugs, watching you for a second longer than necessary.

"You heading into town?" he asks, pointing at your bags in hand.

You blink. "Yeah. I was just—"

"Hop in," he says, nodding toward the passenger seat.

"I'll take you."

You hesitate, words catching. "You don't have to—"

"Already going," he replies simply.

You pause for a moment, eyes lingering down the road, wondering whether or not you should climb into this stranger's truck. The bark of the dog breaks your thoughts, deciding to climb in anyway. The smell hits you all at once—raw meat, metallic and heavy, softened slightly by the clean interior and a faint pine-scented freshener.

Large freezers are secured in the back.

The dog squeezes itself between the two of you, panting proudly. Still massive. Just... not focused on you anymore.

cute, you think.

"Simon,"' he introduces himself.

“Y/n."

The car ride is silent, tires crunching over gravel as the hills roll out around you. Fields stretch wide and open, cows grazing lazily, sheep dotting the landscape like pale stones. Trees sway gently in the breeze.

You watch it all pass, mesmerized. Though your thoughts are running wild, thoughts going back to the sellers words.

Private bloke

Not private enough clearly.

Your gaze shifts from outside to his truck, trying to catch a glimpse at the man.

Simon drives easily, his hand on the wheel completely scarred, you wondered if he got it from his line of work or something else, the other holds a cigarette out the window. He looks different like this—clean, relaxed, almost ordinary. He looks handsome. In a rough, rugged way.

"Need somethin'?" he asks, eyes still on the road.

"Sorry," you say quickly, eyes snapping away "Just— thinking."

"Didnt scare you too much yesterday, did i?" he asks, looking at you briefly. "You seem slightly jumpy,"

Your neck snaps almost instantly toward his hard face.

"No of course not!" You reply hurriedly,

He hums in understanding.

The truck slows outside the shop, gravel crunching under the tires.

"This good?" he asks.

You nod, already reaching for the door. "Yeah. Thank you."

He watches you for a second longer than necessary, then gives a short nod.

"I'll be back," he states.

You hesitate, but smile anyway. Shutting the door with a loud thud.

You can feel his eyes on you until the bell above the shop door rings and the world shifts back into place.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day goes by quicker than you expect.

One moment you're unpacking your things, the next you're moving on instinct alone. You work mindlessly— sketching, painting, letting your hands take over where your thoughts would only get in the way. People drift past on the sidewalk, slowing as they pass, curious eyes gazing at your art. A few linger. Most keep walking. You trade small smiles, nods of acknowledgement.

"Lovely," some say as they walk past.

It brings you back to before, when this was only just a distant dream.

At some point, you stop paying attention to the time.

By the time the sun begins to sink, warm light stretching long across the street, you finally step back.

The mural sits before you—unfinished, but already alive.

You begin packing up your supplies. Brushes rinsed.

Papers stacked. Movements slow, trying everything to not break the spell of the day just yet.

"Alright, Miss Florence," you call out as you step inside, setting your things down on the shop's counter.

"I'll be back around the same time tomorrow."

"Of course, love," she says easily, looking up from where she's standing. "The mural's coming along quite nicely. I'm impressed."

You smile at that, a quiet swell of pride warming your chest.

As you turn to say your goodbyes, her hand comes to rest gently on your shoulder.

"Is everything alright, love?" she asks, concern written plainly across her face.

You pause, staring at her, head tilting slightly in confusion. "Of course," you say. "Why?"

She doesn't answer right away-just nods toward the door, past the front window.

You follow her gaze.

A small sound of surprise slips from you at the sight of the red pickup truck parked outside. The big dog hangs halfway out the open window, tongue lolling as he pants happily. And leaning back against the hood is the man himself—somehow larger than he'd been in your memory. Smoke curls lazily around him, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"He's been waiting out there a while," she says, careful.

"Oh, we live on the same road. He's just doing me a favor." You smile reassuringly.

That doesn't ease her expression the way you expect it to.

"Why?" you ask, lowering your voice without thinking.

"What about him?"

"Oh—nothing," she says. "He's just a private man, is all.

We were a bit surprised seeing you come out of his truck... and now."

"That's all?" you press, eyes flickering towards the truck.

She pauses long enough that you lift your brows.

"Not much to him, really," she says finally.

"He's been up there longer than most people remember. Bought that land years back. Kept it when no one else wanted it."

"He's the butcher, though, right?" you ask, still trying to understand the wariness.

"He is. But it's odd," she admits. "He doesn't hire out.

Doesn't expand. Doesn't sell beyond what he needs to." She presses her lips together.

"Most folks around here like things that grow, y'know? But he stays exactly the same."

You wait for more. It doesn't come - and the lack of it frustrates you more than anything she's said.

Someone near the counter clears their throat. Another voice adds, quieter, "Never missed a delivery, though."

Florence nods in agreement. "Meat's always clean. Always fresh."

You let out a small, incredulous laugh. "So... he's just serious about his work?"

She clicks her tongue.

"He's particular," she says. "About his space. His time."

"And people?"

She doesn't answer right away.

"He doesn't come into town unless there's a reason," she says instead.

"And he doesn't wait around for nothing."

You glance back toward the window, toward where the truck had been.

"Oh," you say softly.

Florence squeezes your arm once before letting go.

"Just... take care, love."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On the laptop by the counter, your mom watches you with that same careful look she's had since you told her where you were moving.

"So," she says, folding her hands together. "How was your first real day?"

You laugh a little. "Good. Actually... really good."

"The shop was busy enough to keep me distracted. People came in and out all day. A lot of staring at first, but not in a bad way." You popped a grape into your mouth.

"More curious than anything."

She hums, unconvinced but listening.

"They let me set up like we talked about," you continue. "People stopped to talk. Asked where I moved from. What I do. It felt nice." You glance toward the window. "Normal."

"Were you nervous?" she asks, giving you that look you know so well.

"I was," you admit. "But once I started working, it faded. I kind of forgot about everything else."

Her eyes soften at that, just a little.

"You didn't sleep much last night, though," she says. Not a question.

You pause, then shrug.

"Not really. New place. New sounds."

You smile like it's nothing. "I'm sure l'll get used to it."

She presses her lips together. "That's what worries me. You out there by yourself, in the woods."

"Mom—"

"I know," she sighs. "You're an adult. I just don't love the idea."

"I get that," you say gently. "But it's fine. Really. It's hidden, yeah—but not in a scary way."

There's a beat of silence before you add, almost offhand, "Although... people in town do talk."

Her gaze sharpens immediately.

"About?"

"About my neighbor," you say, a small laugh slipping out. "Apparently he's been up there forever. Everyone has an opinion, but no one says much."

"That doesn't make you uneasy?"

You pause, just for a second. "Not really. I mean, I met him yesterday. He was... normal. A little intense, maybe.

She doesn't look convinced.

"He even gave me a ride into town this morning," you add quickly, like it's no big deal. " ...and back

"A ride?" she repeats.

You stop to look up at the screen, finally aware of how that must sound.

"Mom, it was fine," you say. "We live on the same road. It was convenient, truly”

She exhales slowly. "I just don't like you being so isolated. Especially with people you don't know."

"I know," you say softly. "But today was good. I promise."

She studies your face through the screen, searching for something you're not even sure you could name.

"Just be careful," she says. "That's all I'm asking."

You nod.

"I will."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You're not sure when it became a routine.

At first, it was just convenience. You'd step outside and Simon would already be there, his red truck waiting at the end of the driveway.

Then it happened again.

And again.

Waking up. Getting ready. Eating breakfast standing by the counter because you never quite sit down anymore. Stepping outside into the cool air and the familiar sight of Simon and his dog waiting patiently for you.

Somewhere along the way, you started bringing him breakfast.

You didn't plan it. It just... happened. A plastic cup balanced carefully in your hand, still too hot to hold properly. And a sandwich wrapped in foil. You remember the first time you handed it to him-how he paused, just for a second, fingers hovering before taking it. His eyes flicked down to the cup, then back up to you.

"Didn't have to," he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You shrugged it off, like it was nothing.

You did it again the next morning.

And the one after that.

Soon, it felt strange not to. Like something was missing when you stepped outside empty-handed.

Simon never commented on it again. He just took what you gave him every morning. Always made sure the dog stayed put while you climbed in. Always waited until you were settled before pulling away from the driveway.

"Hi baby," you'd coo, rubbing the happy dog's ear as you settle into the familiar leather of his car. Shadow-you'd come to learn the scary dog's name.

You don't remember when that became part of your normal either.

By the sixth day you stopped questioning it.

Simon always said he had business in town. Always said it like it was obvious. Like it explained everything.

And maybe it did—except some mornings, when you glanced toward the back of the truck, the bed was completely empty.

No freezers. No crates. Nothing.

You noticed it once.

Twice.

Then you stopped looking.

It was true what everyone said about him—he was private. Didn't speak unless necessary. Most of your rides passed in silence, broken only by the sound of tires on rocks and dirt and your small comments about whatever you saw outside.

He was intense in ways that was hard to ignore.

On the way he watched the road, eyes steady, barely blinking. The way his jaw tightened when he smoked, like he was holding something back even when he was alone with you.

But there was softness there too-and that was the part that caught you off guard.

It slipped in when he spoke to Shadow, voice dropping low, careful, like the dog was something fragile instead of built like a tank. The way his scarred hand reached down without him even looking, fingers rubbing the dog's belly in slow, absent strokes, like muscle memory.

Even the way he asked about the radio. Not choosing for you. Just a quiet, "What d'you want to listen to?"

You didn't know when you'd started noticing these things. Only that once you did, you couldn't stop. The intensity didn't scare you—it made the softness feel deliberate.

It was.... pleasant.

Comforting even.

Two weeks had passed before someone finally said something.

"Sure looks like Simons has a sweet spot for the new girl in town," a voice from behind the counter says, making you instantly perk up.

"Hm?" You look up, paintbrush still in hand.

They nod toward the window.

Outside, the red truck waits.

"Hes my neighbor," you shrug.

the comment lingers, even after the conversation ends.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"You should speak more to everyone," you murmur later that night, leaning your head against the window, tired and worn out from the day.

"You eaten yet?" He asks without glancing over, completely ignoring your comment.

"You really do need to learn how to have a conversation Simon," you roll your eyes, shifting your position to where your knees are facing his side, careful not to bother the sleeping pup in the middle.

"Don't know what you mean," he hums.

You smile to yourself, eyes on the road ahead. After a bit, you add, the interaction from later that day crossing your mind, "Someone mentioned you've been acting... different lately."

He glances over for half a second. "Different?"

"Mmhm." You nod.

He doesn't say anything after that, just nods once and keeps driving.

"Have you eaten?"

You click your tongue.

"No."

The car slowly comes to a stop in front of you home, and so does the engine.

This wasn't part of the routine.

You look at him confused, head tilted to the side.

"Worked on a fresh cut today." He says, reaching forward to take the keys out. "Wanted you to have it,"

You blink, caught off guard. Before you can decide what to say, the truck door opens and he's already stepping out, calling Shadow after him with a short sound.

You watch him circle the hood, a flicker of something tightening in your chest when he reaches for your door.

It opens before you can protest. You hesitate before swinging your legs out anyway, letting him guide you without quite remembering when you agreed to it.

He doesn't crowd you. Just walks ahead, like he expects you to follow.

And you do.

When you stop at the door, keys cool in your palm, he stays a step behind you. Close enough that you're aware of his presence, the quiet weight of it pressing between your shoulder blades as you unlock the door.

You glance back once. He meets your eyes, unreadable.

Inside, you barely get the chance to say anything before he turns to the dog.

"Stay," he says—low and firm by the door.

"Simon—he doesn't have to" you say, too soft to be much of a protest.

Shadow listens anyway.

Your house oozes warmth. Simon thinks.

Not just heat—the kind of warmth that settles in your chest comfortably. It's nothing like his place. His is all cold surfaces and silence, everything where it's supposed to be, like no one's meant to linger too long.

Yours doesn't try to hide you.

There's stuff everywhere. Half-finished things. A stack of sketchbooks by the couch, paint-stained rags shoved into a corner, a couple of framed pieces leaning against the wall because you haven't decided where they go yet. It looks like someone keeps starting things and coming back to them.

It smells like you.

Not perfume. Not candles. Just you - soap, clean fabric, something faintly warm. Simon notices it as soon as he steps inside. It's different from his place.

His house never really smells like anything at all. It's just... neutral.

The kitchen's small. He isn't.

He fills the space without trying, shoulders close to the cabinets as he reaches for your drawers to find what you need. Most of them are empty. Just spices. The basics. He sets the steak down, still wrapped in paper.

You begin fixing things that don't need fixing to distract yourself. Sliding a notebook out of the way. Moving a mug. Your chest stays tight. It's the first time he's been inside your house, and the thought sits heavier than it should.

This is definitely not how you pictured your night ending.

The butcher up the road, in your kitchen. Talking about a fresh cut like it's nothing. Like this isn't strange. Like he hasn't just stepped into your space and started moving through it with quiet ease. The shift from how the night should've gone to how it's unfolding now hits you all at once, sharp enough to leave you reeling.

You reach for the remote, turning the TV on just to break it. The sound. The stillness. Anything. You crack a window open too, breeze slipping in as you step back, giving yourself something else to focus on.

"Do you need help?" you ask finally, mostly to fill the space.

"Mmm," he hums, "Where do you keep your pans?"

"Oh." You move on instinct, opening drawers, pulling things out. A pan. A cutting board. Knives. Setting them down beside him without thinking twice.

He works quietly. Salt first. Pepper. The sound of it hitting the meat sharp in the small kitchen. He heats the pan, waits for it, tests it with a flick of water that hisses and disappears.

You lean back against the counter, watching.

The steak hits the pan and the sound fills the room - loud, immediate. He doesn't rush it. Just let's it sit, pressing it down once with the tongs, then leaves it alone. The smell starts slow, then builds. Rich. Savory.

It crawls through the air until your stomach reacts before you can stop it.

You laugh under your breath, hand pressing briefly to your middle.

"That smells amazing," you beam.

He flips the steak once. Cuts into it to check. Juice beads along the surface, catching on his fingers as he pulls a small piece free.

He lifts his hand without comment, holding it out toward you.

You swear you short-circuit for a second before leaning in, taking the bite he's offering, your lips lightly grazing his finger.

He stares at you—openly this time. Long enough that it makes you shift, a shiver running through you before you look away with a quiet, breathy laugh.

"Wow," you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you chew, letting the taste settle properly this time.

You swallow, then glance back at him, still leaning against the counter. "That's... fucking incredible, Simon."

It slips out softer than you mean it.

For a second, you forget about everything else-the tightness from earlier, the fact that he's here, in your kitchen. There's only the warmth on your tongue and the way the moment hangs between you.

"How long have you been in this business?" you ask after a pause, watching his face like you're checking for a reaction. Questions aren't usually part of your routine. Neither is this.

"Long time," he answers simply as he fixes the plates.

"Old man ran the business. Guess I kind of inherited it."

You hum, thinking it over. "Must keep you busy.

Between the shop and... everything else."

"Enough," he says, shrugging one shoulder. "Mostly keeps me close to home."

That's when he adds, almost as an afterthought,

"Don't like going into town much."

You snort softly. "Could've fooled me."

You meant it as a joke-only half truth.

He exhales through his nose, something like a huff, and shakes his head once before turning back to the plate.

The conversation ends there, easy and unspoken.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The better part of your day had been spent exploring and wandering the area. Something you haven't gotten to properly do since you got here.

Bare feet planted right on the grass as you wandered into the field behind your backyard, the earth cool and uneven beneath you. You kept breathing in deep without really thinking about it—grass, dirt, something clean in the air. Birds flew low overhead, noisy and playful.

The trees out here were huge. Like, old old. Thick trunks, branches stretching everywhere. You caught yourself staring up at them, wondering how long they'd been standing there, what they'd seen before any of this existed.

You kept walking, pencil moving absentmindedly as you added loose doodles to the sketchbook tucked tightly under your arm. Shapes. Lines. Little half-ideas you'd probably forget later.

You explored every area you could think of, picking rocks and flowers as you went.

Every area except one.

You didn't mean to head that way at first. It just... happened. Your steps slowed as the land subtly shifted, the trees thinning just enough for a familiar structure to come into view.

The closer you got, the clearer it became.

Simon's barn sat just beyond the tree line-close enough that if you turned around, you could still see your cottage. The roof peeked through the branches, almost reassuring. Close enough that you told yourself it didn't really count as trespassing.

The barn itself was a faded, rusty red, the paint chipped and sun-worn, like it hadn't been touched in years. It clearly needed a new coat. You filed that thought away automatically, like you did with everything else.

You slowed your steps, circling wider instead of heading straight toward it.

For some reason, your mind kept dragging you back to the first day you'd seen him there. Bloody. Intimidating.

Almost unreal. The unease returned now, settling low in your stomach as uou get closer.

You'd been sneaking glances at the place ever since, careful not to get too close. Careful to remember that conversation.

"So will I ever get to see your workplace?" you'd asked once, half-teasing.

All he'd given you was that small, almost-missed smile.

"S'not meant for a bunny like you to see."

Today, though?

Today, you wanted that angle.

Simon be damned.

You huffed softly to yourself, shaking your head as you settled into the grass and opened your sketchbook. He really did have a way with words.

You started with the barn first-loose lines, quick strokes-then added his cottage beside it. It stood only a few feet away, smaller than yours, but somehow cozier. It looked like him. Minimal. No decorations. No unnecessary clutter. Just a single chair on the lawn, a small table beside it, an ashtray resting on top.

You shaded, erased and worked until the world narrowed down to paper and graphite.

You looked like a lost bunny.

The thought crossed Simon's mind as he watched you move along the upper slope behind the barn. Delicate sundress, sketchbook tucked under your arm, hair pulled back out of your face. Careful steps, like you weren't sure you were meant to be there.

He paused what he was doing and just stared.

You'd been out since early. He remembered you mentioning you had a few days free from work, maybe more, before someone else found something for you to fix or soften or make pretty. You didn't seem like the type who sat still for long. Always moving. Always making.

Simon hadn't meant to care. He usually didn't.

Years of work had trained that out of him. Grind. Routine. Blood when there had to be blood. He liked his life simple, contained, predictable. The land. The barn. The quiet. When he heard the house down the hill was being rented, it pissed him off. Change always did. New noise. New eyes.

Then you showed up.

He didn't know when exactly he started noticing the warmth—your laughter carrying up the hill, music bleeding out of your windows, sound settling into places that had been empty for too long. It didn't belong here. Neither did you.

And yet.

You stopped near the side of the barn, turning slowly, taking it in. He watched you look around like you were measuring the space, committing it to memory. You could still see your cottage from there - close enough that you were probably telling yourself it didn't count as trespassing.

He wiped his hands, stripped the gloves off, and stepped outside.

By the time he rounded the corner, you were already sitting, sketchbook open on your lap. Pencil moving.

Focused enough that you didn't notice him right away.

You were so in deep you didn't even notice the shadow towering over you at first.

He stopped a few feet in front of you-close enough to notice the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers smudged charcoal without you realizing it.

"Can I help you."

You startled—not badly, but enough that he knew you'd forgotten the rest of the world existed.

You looked up at him, your eyes flicking briefly over the apron, the stains, the evidence of the day's work.

Your pulse jumped—he could see it—but you held his gaze anyway.

"Just….. scoping the area," you say easily, like you hadn't been caught at all, even though your heart was pounding. "Gaining inspiration."

He exhaled through his nose.

"Told you," he said. "This place ain't meant for a bunny like you."

He meant it.

Your cheeks warmed. You didn't deny it.

"I didn't walk in, though, did I."

Silence settled between you —thick, but not uncomfortable. Your pencil resumed its quiet movement against the page. He stayed where he was. Didn't tell you to pack up. Didn't step back either. You took it as a good sign.

He watched you for another moment, then shifted-just slightly. Half a turn. Enough to give you a better angle.

He didn't comment on it, but you noticed anyway.

He stayed like that—half-turned, broad shoulders cutting against the quiet of the field.

The contrast caught you off guard.

He didn't belong in a place this calm, you thought. Not with the way he was built-all sharp lines and restrained violence, hands stained from work that wasn't meant to be pretty. And yet the grass bent easily around his boots. Wildflowers pushed up near the barn wall, soft and careless, brushing against wood that had seen such degeneracy.

Sunlight filtered unevenly through the trees, catching the edge of his jaw, the scar across his face, the quiet tension in the way he held himself like he was always braced for impact.

Your pencil hovered uselessly above the page.

This—this—was the angle you hadn't known you were looking for. The way he looked out of place and perfectly rooted all at once. Feral, yes—but framed by something gentle. Something alive.

The thought settled before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Let me draw you," you said suddenly, not even pausing to think.

"Now?"

"Like this?" he asked, glancing down at his clothes.

Your cheeks warmed, suddenly aware of how dirty he must feel.

"Right-sorry, that was a weird ask," you laughed it off.

"I'll just draw your house." You shrugged, getting up from the grown and walking past him.

"Fine,” he said. "I'll do it."

You stopped short and turned back to him.

"You sure? I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I'm not the fastest-,"

He started walking before you could say anything else, already heading toward the cottage like the decision had been made the moment you asked.

You look around for half a second furrowing your brows before following.

The ground changed under your feet as you left the grass, dirt packed firmer near the house. Up close, his place felt even smaller than it had from afar. The door stood open just enough for the smell of him to drift out—wood, smoke, something iron-sharp beneath it.

He stopped at the steps and sat, elbows resting loosely on his knees, forearms bare. The position looked natural on him.

You looked at him properly then.

The daylight caught his face in a way that made you pause.

You noticed things you hadn't before.

The tattoo peeking from his neck and rolled sleeves. The way his jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly, every few moments.

He looked. feral. You weren't sure that was the right word. Beastly, maybe. Grounded. Dangerous in a way that made your thoughts take a turn you didn't want to examine too closely.

You tightened your grip on the pencil, your eyes drifting despite yourself.

Brutal. Masculine.

Your heartbeat picked up as unholy thoughts flashed through your mind.

"You alright, bunny?" he asked.

You froze-caught, like a deer in headlights. Heat rushed to your face.

"Yeah," you laughed softly, shaking your head as you forced your gaze back to his face.

"Here" you say, already leaning closer before he could answer. You reached into your bag for one of the flowers you picked earlier. Small and delicate.

As you lifted your hand toward him, he tensed and leaned back slightly.

You were about to apologize when he spoke.

"Careful. Don't want you getting all dirty."

You blinked-then laughed again.

"Can I?" you asked again.

This time, he stayed still.

You tucked the small white flower behind his ear, fingers brushing skin warmed by the sun. He watched you closely, eyes tracking every movement.

The contrast—him and the delicate bloom resting there—felt almost cinematic.

"You have soft hands, bunny." he says, dead serious.

"Thanks." You breathed out, not realizing you were holding it in.

"Why do you call me that?" You ask after a few minutes.

He shrugged, like it had never needed explaining.

"Because you look like one."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head—but you stayed. Kept drawing. Like the answer was enough.

You went back to his face. Really focused. Honey-brown eyes. Thick brows. Plump, chapped lips. The scar cutting across him, running from one eye, down his nose, into his cheek like a map of where he'd been.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your grip on the pencil as you leaned closer, angling the page to catch the light.

Your knee brushed the step without you noticing.

"You got a boyfriend?"

Your hand stilled mid-line.

"Why the sudden question?"

"Well," he said evenly, "you asked one. Now it's my turn."

You laughed at that.

"No," you said. "I don't."

He hummed in acknowledgement.

Silence settled again, filled only by the pleasant sound of trees moving with the wind. You wanted to keep talking. Wanted to know him. But you weren't sure where the line was.

"You," you started. "How long have you been up here?"

"Mmm. Couple years."

You click your tongue.

"Couple years? I didn't know vague answers were allowed."

He shrugged.

"You can allow whatever you want."

You smile at that, soft and a little crooked, and let your pencil move again.

For a while, neither of you speaks.

The sounds around you settle into something easy— the wind threading through the trees, the faint creak of the barn in the distance, the quiet scratch of charcoal against paper. Simon stays still on the steps, only shifting when his knee starts to ache, careful not to disturb your line of sight.

He glances down at the page after a minute, curiosity getting the better of him.

"So," he says, casual, like it just occurred to him. "You always draw scenery?"

You hum thoughtfully, eyes never leaving the sketch.

"Sometimes. Helps me understand how things fit together."

"People included?"

"Especially people," you admit.

He watches the way your mouth curves around the words, the focus in your eyes. There's something intimate about being studied like this—not in the way people usually look at him, measuring or wary.

"You any good?" he asks.

You laugh quietly. "Guess that depends who you ask."

"Hm." A beat. "You don't look like you're guessing."

You glance up at him then, catching the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. Not quite a smile. Something warmer than indifference.

You go back to drawing.

Time slips by without either of you noticing.

The light shifts gradually, the sun lowering behind the trees, turning the field gold and then amber. Shadows stretch across the ground, softening the sharp edges of everything around you. The flower behind his ear wilts a little, petals curling inward, but you leave it there.

Simon moves once when his leg goes numb, rolling his shoulders, flexing his hands. Letting out a low groan of discomfort. You adjust without thinking, tracking the movement, adapting your lines.

"You don't have to stay still," you say after a moment of watching him.

"I know," he replies. Then, quieter, "I don't mind."

You chuckle to yourself, heat creeping up your neck as you look back down at the page.

"You're a good model," you say, a little too quickly.

The breeze cools as evening creeps in, brushing over your bare arms and drawing a light shiver from you.

You shift your weight, knees stiff, and finally lean back, lowering the sketchbook into your lap.

"I think that's enough," you say softly.

Simon straightens a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You hesitate before standing, brushing grass from your dress. There's a strange reluctance in the air now, like neither of you wants to be the one to end it.

You step closer, tearing the page free and holding it up beside his face. The distance shrinks without you meaning it to.

You tilt your head, eyes flicking between him and the sketch, comparing angles and the way the light catches him in real time versus graphite.

"Here."

He grabs it without question. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything.

That usual uneasy feeling in your stomach creeps up slowly, the one that shows up every time you finish a piece. Like you did something a little too personal and now it's just... out there.

Then, quietly, "You see a lot."

"O-oh," you say, eyes wide in surprise. "Only what's there." You lift a hand, brushing the comment off like it's nothing.

He nods once.

"Thank you," he says.

The words hang steady.

"Of course!" You smile softly.

The sun has dipped low now, the sky washed in muted pinks and purples. You step back, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"I should probably head back," you say. "Before it gets dark."

"Yeah." He stands as well. Drawing still in hand.

"You can keep that, if you want," You call out.

"I owe you a better one, though." you laugh lightly-but the sound fades as soon as it leaves you, suddenly aware of how that might've come out.

Before you can overthink it, you give a quick wave and head down the slope, not waiting for his reaction.

His eyes linger a bit longer till you fully disappear from his view, gaze dropping to the piece of paper then back at you, breathing out slow.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It's been a month now since you've settled into your new life. A month of building and creating and slowly disappearing into your little cottage, filling it with your things until it felt like a place you'd lived in for years instead of weeks.

A month, too, of growing closer to the local butcher.

The one who had a reputation for keeping to himself. For not interacting with anyone. Somehow, that rule never applied to you.

You were almost inseparable now. Him showing up unannounced to fix small things—a loose lightbulb, a squeaky door-like he'd been waiting for an excuse.

Any time you needed something from town or had a job lined up, he'd already be outside your door, keys in hand.

Sometimes he'd bring uncooked steak even when you'd try to refuse. Fresh cuts wrapped in paper, held out with a casual shrug. He'd say it didn't fit in his fridge. Leftover. No big deal.

A stupid white lie. One that worked every single time.

He'd gotten softer, too. Softer than you suspected anyone else had ever seen him. Letting you borrow his thick coats—or leaving them behind and claiming he'd forgotten them. When you tried to give them back, he'd just shake his head, lips pressed into that tight little smile, like the conversation was already over.

"It's cold, bunny. Shouldn't be wearing that outside," he says immediately, voice stern and low, eyes cutting straight through you.

You swallow, feigning innocence as you shrug one shoulder.

"I thought it was just gonna be a light storm,"

you reply plainly—ignoring the warning as you lean back on your hands, legs crossed, chest subtly pushed forward while you look up at him.

He scoffs and drops down beside you with an exaggerated huff, his damp shoulder bumping into yours. He's close—close enough that you can feel his heat, the steady pull of his breath. It makes your head spin.

His forearms rest on his knees as he settles in, but his eyes never leave you. Those same hungry eyes that have been plaguing your thoughts every night.

"It's gonna get really cold," he repeats, quieter now, looking straight at you.

You swallow thickly before standing, deliberately slow, giving him a full view.

"I can handle a little cold," you tease.

You barely make it inside before you're running, laughter spilling out as you hear his heavy footsteps thudding after you.

Now you're stuck inside, alone, heavy rain hammering against the roof and rattling the windows. Moisture beads along the glass near the heater, the room dim and warm. You sit on the bed with a towel wrapped around your body and hair, picking at a bowl of cut fruit balanced on your thigh.

It's one of those nights.

The kind where loneliness creeps in quietly, twisting into something darker. Where your mind betrays you with memories of every interaction you've had with him.

You'd wanted to relax. Wash the day off, eat fruit and watch tv.

But moments like this don't let you.

They turn that restlessness into something else entirely.

It makes your cunt ache.

Your thoughts drift back to the time when he showed up unannounced, claiming your grass was too high. Brought his own tools, mowed the lawn like it was nothing. Sweat clung to his skin as the sun hit him, shirt damp and sticking in all the wrong places.

You'd worn an incredibly short sundress. The kind that shows off every inch of your curves.

You remember the way he wiped sweat from his forehead with the thin fabric, lifting it just enough to give you a glimpse of his hard bulging stomach. The sight had made something low in your belly twitch.

The way his hand rested at the small of your back when you brought him cold lemonade. How close he stood. The smell of him-clean and earthy. The way his Adam's apple bobbed with every swallow.

Fuck.

Your left hand drifts down without thinking—first over your chest, then higher, barely grazing your nipple. A quiet sound slips from your lips.

Your body feels overly sensitive. Needy.

You picture his hands on you—large, rough—teasing your skin, gripping your waist, your ass. Your free hand slides between your thighs and you gasp when your fingers brush against your slick heat.

You barely touch yourself at first. Just graze your clit. Then down your folds. A soft hiss escapes you.

You're already a mess. You have been since you stepped out of the shower.

His image won't leave your mind. Everything he'd do to you. Everything you'd let him do. You saw him differently today, and it did something to you. It was something you feared from the moment you started becoming close. But you pushed that thought down.

Your fingers begin to move in slow circles, the other hand latching onto your hardening nipple as your thoughts spiral. His hands. His weight. Him bending you over, tugging your hair.

Your thighs squeeze together.

You wonder what he'd smell like fresh from a shower. What he'd look like with water clinging to his skin, a towel slung low on his hips. The thought makes your toes curl.

Your breathing picks up as pleasure builds, slick heat spreading with every movement of your fingers.

A moan slips free.

"Simon," you breathe, barely above a whisper, like saying it out loud makes it too real.

Your hand moves from your nipple to your breast, groping desperately, trying to recreate the way his scarred hand would feel. Would he pinch you? Roll it between his fingers? Replace his hand with his mouth?

Your breaths turn uneven. Your hand between your thighs moves faster.

The image of today is burned into your mind-him rough and bloodied from work, yet speaking to you so softly. It's overwhelming. He consumes your thoughts until you nearly forget why you're even here.

"F-fuck," you moan, eyes falling open as you look down at yourself—naked, wet, undone. Your hips lift, chasing the sensation.

"Si-"

Boom.

The crack of thunder is immediate, violent, followed by sudden darkness that steals the air from your lungs.

You jolt upright with a gasp, heart slamming against your ribs as if it's trying to escape. For a second you just sit there, frozen, the rain pounding against the roof like it's trying to cave it in.

"Oh-fuck," you whisper, the word shaky.

Your body catches up a second later. Awareness hits all at once and sends a fresh wave of panic through you. You scramble, grabbing the towel from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around yourself clumsily, hands trembling as you try to ground yourself. The room feels too quiet without the hum of electricity, the shadows stretching and shifting with every flash of lightning outside.

"Y/N!"

The sound of his voice cuts through the rain.

You fumble for your phone, fingers slick as you swipe the flashlight on, the harsh beam making you squint.

You don't stop to think—just move. Sweats and a tshirt. You tug them on hastily, heart still racing as you rush down the hallway, the floor cold under your bare feet.

The power's out.

When you pull the door open, rain mist clings to the air immediately. Simon stands on your porch, shoulders damp, flashlight in hand, Shadow pressed close to his leg. His face shifts the moment he sees you-concern sharpening, eyes flicking over you like he's checking for injuries.

"Hey," he says, firm but low. "You okay?"

“I—yeah” you nod too quickly, suddenly very aware of how warm your face feels, how close he is. "The power just…went out."

"Yeah." His gaze lifts briefly to the dark windows behind you before settling back on you. "You're coming with me."

"What?" You blink. "Simon, it's really not-"

"Not up for discussion," he cuts in, already stepping past you like he owns the place. He moves with practiced ease, flashlight sweeping through the room as he heads for your bedroom. "Storm's getting worse.

This place isn't insulated well enough for it."

You trail after him, flustered, hugging yourself as you watch him grab a few essentials—your charger, a hoodie, shoes—moving through your space with unsettling familiarity.

"I'll be fine," you insist, even though your voice lacks conviction. "It's just for the night, plus my things are here. I need to make sure everything's in order."

"Y/n," he replies, glancing back at you. His tone softens, just slightly. "Humor me."

You don't argue after that.

The rain blurs everything on the drive over. The road glistens under the headlights, water streaking across the windshield in uneven patterns as the wipers struggle to keep up. The cab of the truck is warm, quiet except for the storm and the low hum of the engine.

Every now and then, lightning flashes bright enough to turn the inside of the truck white, and you catch him glancing over at you like he's checking you're still there.

When you finally pull up to his place, your nerves spike all over again.

You swallow as you step out, rain speckling your skin, heart pounding harder with each step toward his door. This would be your first time inside. After everything. After all this time.

He unlocks it and nudges the door open, motioning you in first.

The warmth hits you immediately.

The house smells like him—burnt wood, something clean and sharp, iron underneath it all. It's quiet, small, almost stark. The living space is simple: couch, TV, dining table pushed close to the kitchen. No decorations. No clutter.

And then you see it. Your drawing. The same one you drew of him months ago.

It sits on the side table framed neatly. It surprised you. Your steps slow without you meaning to, something tightening in your chest as you stare at it. It's not really a big deal but, seeing your drawing there—framed, dusted, given a place—feels strangely intimate. Like walking into someone's thoughts and realizing you've been there longer than you thought.

"Oh my god," you laugh softly, reaching for it. "I can't believe you kept this."

"Hm?" He glances over, distracted at first. Then he sees what you're holding. "Oh. Yeah." He shrugs, like it's obvious. "You make beautiful art."

The words hit harder than they should.

Your face warms instantly as you duck your head, pretending to inspect the frame. "This was so long ago. I thought you'd thrown it away."

"I would never," he says, without hesitation.

Something short-circuits in your brain at that. You clear your throat, setting the drawing back where it belongs before you can overthink it.

"That's... sweet," you say, lighter than you feel.

You move toward the couch, perching on the edge at first before letting yourself sink back. It's smaller than yours, but comfortable.

Simon disappears into the kitchen for a moment, and you hear the faint clink of a kettle being set down. You sit on the couch, hugging the mug when he hands it to you, grateful for something warm to hold onto.

"Wait," you frown slightly, glancing toward the dark kitchen. "How'd you even make tea if the power's out?"

He pauses for a second before answering. "Backup electric stove,"

"Keep it around for storms." He adds

You blink. "Of course you do."

He almost smiles.

The silence that follows is comfortable, not awkward. Just the storm outside and the low crackle of the fire starting to catch as he moves to the hearth. You watch him from the couch as he kneels, stacking logs with practiced ease, striking the match. The flames take quickly, casting a soft orange glow across the room.

"There," he says, standing again. "That'll help."

He grabs his coat from the back of a chair as he passes, hesitating only a second before draping it over your shoulders. The weight of it makes you exhale.

"You don't have to—"

"I know," he says quietly. "Drink your tea."

You do, pulling the coat tighter around yourself. It smells like him. When he sits down beside you, it's close but not pressing. His knee brushes yours. Just once. Neither of you move away.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," you nod. "Just... settling."

"Mm." He leans back slightly, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. Not touching you. Not yet. But there, like an open invitation you don't acknowledge out loud.

You shift a little closer anyway, more instinct than decision. The fire pops softly. The storm fades into background noise. For a moment, it almost feels like you've done this before—like this is normal.

"You're quiet," he says after a while.

"Oh my god," you scoff softly. "Are you calling me annoying?"

He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed, and then his shoulders shake with that quiet laugh you've come to love.

"No," he says. "Just noticing."

You smile into your mug, cheeks warm.

"Y'know, i never really liked tea till i met you," you mention out of nowhere.

And he looks at you with an almost blank expression, it would've made you nervous if it was for the twitch to the side of his lips.

"Tea's good for you,"

The fire crackles. The coat stays around your shoulders. This is definitely not how you imagined your night going, but you couldn't really complain.

The quiet stretches again, but it's different now. He's closer than before-not just beside you, but aware of you in a way that makes your skin prickle. When you shift, he shifts too. When you breathe, he seems to notice.

"You're shaking," he says softly.

"I'm not," you lie automatically.

He doesn't call you on it. He just reaches out, tentative at first, resting a hand on your arm. It's warm, and it has you spiraling. Just a minute ago you were talking normally to each other, but the air shifted.

"Come here," he murmurs.

It's not an order. Not this time. Just an invitation.

You hesitate for half a second before leaning into him, your temple brushing his shoulder. His arms come around you slowly, careful, like he's giving you time to change your mind. When you don't, he tightens his hold just a little.

This is new for the both of you.

Your heart starts to race, loud in your ears, the warmth of him seeping into places you weren't prepared for.

His hand moves absently, rubbing small circles into your back. Your fingers curl into his shirt without thinking. This isn't just friendly anymore.

You pull back slightly, laughing under your breath as if that might diffuse the moment. "Okay," you say, voice a little breathless. "I— I need a second."

He releases you immediately, hands dropping, but his eyes stay on you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod quickly, already stepping away.

You turn toward the kitchen, more to put space between you than because you actually need anything.

The counter is cool under your palms when you brace yourself against it, breathing in slowly, trying to stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

You're raking your brain trying to put yourself back together, breathing in the cool air when you hear his footsteps behind you.

"You don't have to run," he says gently.

You glance over your shoulder—and that's when you realize how close he is again. Not pressing. Not touching. Just close enough that the room suddenly feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.

You straighten without thinking, taking a step back.

The space behind you disappears faster than you expect, the counter cold against your lower back. You didn't mean to corner yourself, but Simon always had a way of filing a room without ever touching you.

He's only a hair away from you. You could feel his warm breath with a hint of black tea.

Your hand comes up on instinct—flat against his chest.

He stops immediately.

"Simon," you say, quieter than you meant to.

His eyes drop to your hand, then back to your face. He waits.

"If we do this," you say, swallowing, "I don't want to pretend it's nothing."

A beat passes.

Then he nods once. Slow and certain. It's crazy how quickly your nerves and fears ease.

"It's not," he says.

His hands settle on your waist, firm, pulling you flush against him. The contact knocks the air from your lungs, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

His mouth finds yours slowly this time-testing, deliberate. Like he's giving you a chance to pull away.

You don't.

The kiss deepens, unhurried but heavy, his lips moving against yours with a pressure that makes your knees soften. He kisses you again. And again. Each one lingering longer than the last.

His hands stay at your waist, thumbs digging in just enough to remind you he's there, holding you in place.

You breathe him in-cigarettes, beer, heat-and it makes your head spin. Your fingers curl around his neck, tugging him closer when he pulls back, chasing his mouth without thinking.

"Taste so fucking good," He exhales against your lips, a low sound, before kissing you again—rougher now.

Hungrier.

As the kiss deepens and your thoughts start to slip, you barely register his hand moving-gliding over your chest, your stomach—until it slides into your shorts with ease. You're already wet.

"Fuck, bunny—you're fucking soaked," he grunts, hands gripping you, making you gasp in surprise. He doesn't pull away, just uses the moment to kiss you again, shoving his warm tongue into your mouth.

He sucks and licks, messy and unrestrained, saliva slipping down your chin as he keeps you close, like he can't get enough.

You feel your knees buckle as he begins rubbing your clothes core with the palm of his hands, his lips trailing down your neck.

"Ah-" you squeal in surprise, the sound tearing out of you before you can stop it.

"Hump on me, bunny," he murmurs, low and steady, stilling his hand just enough to make the words land harder.

"W-what?" You blink, pulled back into yourself by his voice, trying to make sense of it as you look up at him.

His expression doesn't change.

"Want you to grind this wet cunt on me bunny," he pressed his hand harder into you.

"Oh my….. god," you breathe, the words barely there as you roll your hips down, tentative at first, trying to find your rhythm. You gasp when the pressure shifts, when his hand flexes and your body lights up in response.

Your thighs start to tremble, weak and unsteady, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself as your movement grows more desperate.

"Thaaat's it," he encourages, his voice rough, threaded with something that sends a fresh wave of heat down your spine. "Just like that. Feel good for me."

Your hips move on their own now, chasing the sensation without thought. One hand grips the back of his neck, fingers digging in as you struggle to stay upright. You're acutely aware of yourself-too warm, too sensitive, skin slick with sweat, the contrast of cool air and burning need making everything sharper, more overwhelming. The pleasure is dizzying, addictive, pulling you further out of yourself with every movement.

You can't imagine what you must look like right now.

You're sure you wouldn't recognize yourself—messy, unfocused, clinging to him as your body reacts faster than your mind can follow. Every shift makes your breath hitch, every second stretching thinner than the last.

The pressure suddenly increases, firmer now, more insistent. A broken moan spills from you before you can stop it, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the embarrassing sounds coming from you.

"No," he mutters, catching your wrist and pulling it away, pinning it above your head with one strong grip.

His other hand doesn't slow. If anything, it moves with more purpose, stealing the strength right out of your legs. Your head tips back against the wall as you let him take over completely, your body yielding without protest.

Your vision blurs. Everything goes white at the edges, your mouth falling open on a silent gasp as you cling to him, holding on like he's the only solid thing left. The sensation rolls through you in waves, too big to process all at once, leaving you breathless and shaking.

He keeps you close, holding you steady as it passes, murmuring praise against your skin—soft words, grounding words—until your breathing slowly evens out again. Your chest feels tight, full in a way you don't quite understand yet.

"I-" you try to speak, but the thought slips away before you can finish it.

Without warning, his arms hook behind your knees and lift you effortlessly. You gasp, startled, hands flying to his shoulders as you cling to him, eyes wide, your body leaning into his instinctively despite the shock.

"What are you doing?" you ask, breathless.

"M'gonna take care of you properly, bunny."

His room is simple. A bed. A chair. A small desk. No TV.

No pictures. Exactly what you expected.

He lays you down carefully before gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Moonlight spills through the open window, tracing every scar and mark along his skin, the faint trail of hair leading up his chest. It makes you press your legs together, biting your lip.

"Like what you see?" he teases.

"Shut up," you mutter-cut off when his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is hard, wet, unrelenting. He doesn't hesitate, tugging the flimsy top over your head and tossing it aside, leaving you bare beneath him.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and you catch the strain in his pants, dark and obvious. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

His hands slide up your stomach, stopping at the hem of your panties. He doesn't pull them down. Just hooks his fingers there, eyes roaming over you like he's taking inventory. It almost makes you self-conscious.

The hunger in his gaze burns through you, settles low in your belly, makes you feel exposed in a way that's almost empowering.

Your hands fall uselessly to your sides as you whine softly, body arching. Back arching as you expose yourself more to him. You want his weight back on you—his warmth. You need it.

"Look at you, bunny," he murmurs, hands coming back to grip your stomach before leaning up to cup your breasts. "So fuckin perfect."

Your head tips back at the sensation, a soft, surprised sound slipping from your throat. Heat coils tight in your lower belly, dampness clinging to the fabric between your legs. The cool night air brushing over your skin only makes it sharper.

His eyes rake over you, eyes shining as he takes you in.

Your chest rises and falls unevenly, skin flushed, lips swollen from biting and kissing. He leans down, mouth trailing from your neck to your chest before closing around your nipple.

You moan, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue circles, sucking hard. His other hand grips your opposite breast, kneading, rough enough to make your breath stutter. Dark marks bloom in his wake.

"Si-" you swallow hard, hands clutching his shoulders as his mouth drags lower, down your stomach, lingering before pressing against your soaked panties.

He inhales deeply.

You're so sensitive it makes you shake, his touch warm and overwhelming, like he knows exactly how to pull every reaction from you.

His lips brush your thighs, soft at first, teasing. His tongue slips out, tasting you through the fabric, biting and nibbling while his hands draw slow circles along your legs. Your thighs tremble, the sensation sharp enough to sting your eyes.

"Smell so fucking good," he mutters.

"Please," you whisper, lifting your head to look at him.

"Need you."

Your body burns with want, embarrassment mixing with it until you don't know which is worse.

"Be patient," he groans, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"I'm gonna take my time with this sweet cunt."

You whine, defeated, frustration curling tight in your chest.

True to his word, he doesn't rush. He kisses, licks, bites—taking his time, savoring every sound you make. You can hear it in his breathing, feel it in the way his grip tightens.

Your hands fly everywhere, unsure where to land as his mouth traces every freckle, every curve, every soft stretch of skin.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, thick and rough, pausing there. The thought of how easily he could tear them away makes your breath hitch.

"Don't zone out on me," he murmurs, tapping your hip before hooking his fingers properly into the fabric. He looks at you, waiting.

"Please."

He kisses your stomach once before tugging them down, tapping your ass so you lift for him. He slides them off with practiced ease, tucks them into his back pocket without a word.

You instinctively try to close your legs, face burning— but he grips your thighs, forcing them apart. His stare is slow, intense as he takes you in, swollen and slick, clit peeking out, folds glistening in the moonlight.

"Prettiest fuckin' pussy l've ever seen," he groans, hands rubbing up and down your thighs, gaze burning into you until you tremble under it.

"Stop messing around," you reply, tummy filled with butterflies as he continues to watch you with mindful eyes. You lift your hips up, wanting any sort of friction from the man.

He smirks, leaning down without breaking eye contact.

His tongue slips out, presses flat against you—covering you fully, dragging over your hole and your clit before he seals his mouth around you.

The contact steals the breath right out of your lungs.

You throw your head back instantly, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth—warm, wet-slick with his saliva and your own juices. It's too much all at once, your body reacting before you can even think.

He takes his time with it. Licking. Sucking. Lapping at every sensitive spot, tongue tracing your folds with intention. A low moan leaves his throat, vibrating straight through you, sending a sharp jolt up your spine.

He grunts into you, fully focused now, like nothing else exists. His tongue doesn't stop, doesn't rush—just works you steadily while his cock strains hard and aching beneath him. Every sound you make matters.

Every moan, every broken whine, every shaky plea. You feel it in the way he presses closer, the way his breath stutters.

You were a weakness he learned to accept the moment he met you.

He pulls back just long enough to make you shiver before pressing a finger against you. Your mouth snaps shut as you watch, breath caught. His fingers are thick. Calloused. The stretch alone makes you slicker.

One finger pushes in. Slow. Then a second, following behind it, filling you deeper.

"Oh my god, Simon—"

They're big. So big it takes a second for him to settle, fingers stopping fully buried inside you before his mouth drops back to your clit, sucking it in again like he's been waiting for it.

Your thighs start to shake. Your end is nearing embarrassingly quick. But you didn't care, only focusing on the immense pleasure he was giving you.

"C'mon, give it to me," he groaned against your cunt, fingers rubbing inside you faster, harder. Your thighs shook, and the room filled with the sound of your squelching. "Gimme your cum."

It hits you in waves—fast, blinding, overwhelming. You cry out, tears slipping free as your body tightens around his fingers, pleasure tearing through you in a way that leaves you sobbing. You've never felt anything like this. Never been this far gone.

The world narrows to sensation. Sound. Heat.

He laps it up like an animal, only adding to the sensitivity of your core. He doesn't let you come down.

"Si-" you whine, hands pushing at his head just enough to make him look at you.

"Hmm?" he hums, lips brushing a soft kiss where he just had you before standing up off the bed.

Your ears are still ringing from the mind-numbing orgasm, head fuzzy, body slow to catch up. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, at the way his cock twitches between his thick thighs like it's got a mind of its own. You didn't even notice when he had fully undressed himself.

It's huge.

So thick it barely holds itself upright.

Your brain scrambles, a thousand thoughts crashing at once. There's no way. That can't possibly-

Would this even fit inside you?

But your body doesn't care what your mind thinks.

Your heart kicks up again, anticipation curling low in your stomach, your still—sensitive, drooling mess aching for more even after everything it's just been through. The sting is still there. The fullness lingers. And somehow, you want it again anyway.

The tip of his shaft catches the light, a thick vein running along it, pulsing. His balls hang heavy and full beneath it. Trimmed hair. Thick, solid thighs flexing when he shifts his weight.

You're pretty sure you're drooling when you're ripped out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You think you can take it, bunny?"

Your body burns, but you nod nonetheless. The arousal you felt was almost too much to bare.

"Let me see that pretty cunt," he lifts your knees up, exposing both of your holes.

Your arms hook beneath your knees, making it easier for him to position himself, lining his cock right at your greedy hole. Your heart pounds in anticipation, lip caught between your teeth hard enough you're sure you might draw blood.

He drags the head along your clit first, smearing you with his precum—then taps it there. Hard.

"Hurry-" you whine, brows furrowed in frustration.

"Just the tip, baby," he breathes, more to himself than you. "Just the tip."

For a split second, you think you understand what he means. Then he pushes in.

"Fuck-" you cry out, sharp and startled, your body locking up on instinct as your walls convulse around him, struggling to take his size. The sensation borders on too much immediately—too full, too sudden. It pulls a low grunt from his chest as he freezes, every muscle in his body going taut.

No. He can't do that. Can't hurt you.

"Shhh," he soothes quickly, voice dropping, steadying.

His hand moves where you need it most, rubbing slow, gentle circles, grounding you while your body panics around him.

Your head feels fuzzy. Like everything is happening underwater.

"Si-ah-too-" you babble, words falling apart as your eyes roll back, fingers digging into his shoulders. You can feel him inching deeper, barely moving, and every fraction of an inch feels like your body is being asked to do something impossible.

Too big. Too thick. There's no way this should fit.

He's not even halfway there, and you already feel stretched past anything you've known. Your mind flickers in and out—whines and broken cries are the only sounds you can make as he keeps going slowly, carefully.

Your hands slide down to his, gripping tight like you're anchoring yourself.

"Hey," he whispers. "Breathe for me."

You try. A shaky inhale. Then another. Tears slip down your temples as you force your body to listen.

He looks nothing like you feel.

He's calm. Focused. Completely present. Sweat beads along his forehead, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths, eyes locked on where you're taking him in.

Then warmth—unexpected.

You jolt lightly as he spits, the heat of it hitting your clit before spreading where you're connected, slicking things enough to take the edge off.

"Too big," you cry, lifting your head to look.

You almost wish you hadn't.

It looks unreal. Wrong. Your body stretched wide around him, doing something you don't understand how it's doing. You swear you can feel him everywher—high, deep, overwhelming.

He hasn't looked away once.

"Almost in, baby," he tells you.

Then he stops. All the way in.

You lose your breath completely. You've never felt this full—like there's no space left inside you at all. His body presses close, skin slick with sweat and your heat, and you can't tell where you end and he begins anymore.

Everything inside you feels pulled tight, stretched to its limit. He's so deep you swear you feel him kiss your cervix.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cling to his shoulder, focusing on the slow movement of his hands as they slide up your sides, steady, reassuring. You breathe again slowly . Letting your body adjust inch by inch.

Letting the shock fade.

"Tell me when to move," he says quietly.

You don't answer right away. Just a quick nod after a while of feeling his body pressed to yours.

When he finally does move-just barely-the discomfort softens into something else entirely.

Something deep and rolling and unfamiliar. Pleasure replaces the sting in waves, so intense it makes your toes curl.

He moves at a languid pace, dragging himself out of you just a bit before pushing back in. Slowly. Making you feel everything.

You're growing desperate. All the pent—up tension you've been carrying for months finally spilling over, burning hot and restless.

You want him. So bad.

"You can be rougher-ah,"

"Rougher?" he chuckles, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from your face. His thumb brushes your cheek, so gentle it makes you purr. "You don't want me to be rougher, baby."

His hips snap forward sharply, pulling a surprised gasp from your throat.

"I do!" you say breathless.

You see it then-the veins standing out along his arms, the way his jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth. He's losing it. Barely holding on anymore.

And you don't want him to.

"Please," you whisper, voice low, rolling your hips just enough to make him groan.

His hands fly to your hips, pinning them hard against the bed.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

The smile on your face disappears just as quickly as it came when he snaps his hips forward again—harder this time. The movement is rough and powerful, stealing the air from your lungs.

"You ever had your neck squeezed before, bunny?" His large hand comes up loose at first, fingers barely resting against your throat, and your breath already hitches. Then he squeezes harder, thumb pressing into the side of your neck.

Your vision blurs around the edges, pleasure shooting straight through you. You don't hear a word he says after that, though the soft smile that creeps on your face doesn't go unnoticed.

Something flips inside him.

He's not the caring giant anymore-the one coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you, softly rubbing your side and clit to ease the stretch of his cock. No. This version of him is different. Rougher. Bolder. It makes your toes curl in the best possible way.

All you hear is ringing and the sound of his hips hitting your ass.

Your mouth hangs open in a perfect O, no sound coming out except the faintest whimper dragged from you with every thrust. Your eyes cross as you let him do whatever he wants with your body.

You're a drooling mess. Nothing but babbles and broken cries spill from your lips as your eyes roll back, nails clawing at the messy, wet sheets that smell like nothing but you and him.

"Stupid thrust fucking thrust bunny thrust."

The sound sends a warm, overwhelming rush through your stomach, like the drop of a roller coaster. His hips don't falter, and neither does his grip.

With every movement, he rolls his hips in slow circles, making sure you feel every inch, every vein dragging against your sensitive, gummy walls. His hand loosens at your throat only to slide down and grab your tits hard.

"Simiiimon-ah—ah-ah," you cry, voice breaking with each powerful snap of his hips. Short, deep thrusts. His pubic bone slamming into your swollen clit every time.

"So fuckin' tight," he growls. "You feel so fuckin' good一fuck.”

He lets go of your neck, hands moving down your body as his hips slow, grinding into you instead. "I'm gonna rip you in half," he mutters to himself, the rumble in his chest deep and dark.

You don't hear him.

You're too busy gripping the sheets for dear life as the sinful sounds of skin slapping, cunt squelching, and your broken moans fill the room.

The sounds you make only fuel the heavy throbbing of his cock. "Feel good, baby?" he breathes, chest heaving as he looks down at your fucked-out expression, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"Yesyesyes," you babble, drool slipping from your mouth, eyes fluttering as you struggle to keep them open.

"Please-" Your cheeks are wet with tears, hair a mess, body buzzing with heat and pleasure. "Please go faster."

You lift your hips, digging your heels into the mattress, grinding back into him with everything you have left.

He lets out a deep grunt-surprised, pleased.

"Yeah, baby," he teases, thumb sliding down to rub your clit. "You want me to go faster?"

"Please, need it," you sob pathetically. The only thing you care about is pleasure—coming apart on him and letting him ruin you again.

"Work for it, then," he pants, chest rising and falling as he watches your blissed—out face. Beautiful. Fucking wrecked.

Your hips jerk erratically now, calves trembling, sweat slicking your skin as he lets you use him to get yourself off.

"You're-ah-being—mean," you sniff, your legs giving out slowly.

The familiar pressure coils tight in your stomach. Your clit is red and angry with every twist of his thumb, his free hand coming up to squeeze and play with your tit.

Before you can stop it, another orgasm washes through your whole body.

"Fuck," he he throws his head back when you clamp around him, tight and desperate, refusing to let go.

It takes everything in him not to come right then and there, buried deep inside your hot, gummy walls.

You're left gasping, clutching the sheets to your chest like you need something solid as you come apart on his cock.

As you come down, he slowly pulls out of you.

"Ah—" you yelp, the sudden emptiness uncomfortable, almost cold without him.

"Bend over."

His eyes are completely dark as he steps back, cock twitching and leaking. Before you can even lift your head, he's gripping your thighs, dragging you forward and flipping you onto your stomach, then onto your knees. The sheets beneath you are soaked.

"C'mon, bunny," he says, slapping your ass impatiently. "Bend over."

"M'gonna breed this fuckin' cunt," he mutters.

His hands grip your waist, putting you exactly where he wants you—on your knees, tits pressed into the bed, ass up just like he's imagined too many times before.

And you. You're just a cock-drunk, drooling mess. You can't even form words. Just cries and whines spilling out of you.

Music to his ears.

Fuel to his aching cock.

He positions himself behind you, a heavy hand coming down on your ass. The sharp sound echoes through the room, followed by your broken cry.

"Sii-"

His thrusts are messy—messier than before.

Desperate. His grip is bruising, fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you harder, deeper. You chant his name like it's the only word you know.

Your body starts to betray you first. Your legs tremble, knees threatening to give out as the rhythm stutters, breaks, turns reckless. You can't keep up anymore—can't tell where one movement ends and the next begins. Every nerve feels lit, stretched thin, buzzing too loud inside your skin. Your breath comes apart in your chest, sharp little gasps you can't control, like your body already knows what's coming before your mind does.

You're right there—so close it hurts. The need swells until it feels unbearable, like pressure behind your ribs, behind your eyes. Your grip tightens, fingers clawing uselessly at his pillow.

"Fuuuuck, baby!" he nearly yells, hips snapping animalistically, your whole body jolting with every thrust.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" you scream, loud and unfiltered, grateful there aren't neighbors close enough to hear.

The pressure builds again-and just before you can release, he pulls out.

You sob at the emptiness, looking back at him. "No! — please.

He smirks, gripping his cock, a white ring of your slick at the base before he leans down, spreading your ass. Both holes are on display. You can't stop him even if you wanted to.

He spits directly on your asshole before burying his tongue there, licking and slurping like a man starved.

From your clit to your ass, messy and obscene. His hand pumps his cock as he eats you, smacking and pinching your ass, tongue pushing deep enough to make you cry into the pillow.

"Please—want your cock, Simon," you beg, pushing back into his mouth without thinking.

“Yeah, baby,” he mocks, voice pitched higher. “You want this fat cock in your tummy?”

His fist tangles in your hair, jerking your head back until your neck strains, eyes lifting to meet him looming over you.

"Yes, please," your voice is horsed, neck straining with veins popping out. Chin wet and you're panting like a dog.

It made Simons cock impossibly harder.

He sinks into you again-no pause, no waiting. He bottoms out and immediately starts fucking you without restraint, the bed squeaking so loud you're sure it'll break. He slaps your ass, pulls your hair harder, forcing your back into an uncomfortable arch.

"This is what you wanted huh baby," he pants, hips never faltering, yet they get sloppy. His end is nearing.

He knows it by the way his balls tighten. Still dripping a sticky mess of both of you.

Then everything disappears.

Your vision blurs as you cum all over his cock again—no warning, no buildup.

You don't even know how many orgasms you've had.

This last one knocks you out completely.

You collapse onto the bed when he finally lets go, lying there motionless, drool slipping from your mouth as he uses your body for his pleasure.

"Fuck, bunny," he laughs. "Came so fast."

He doesn't give you time to recover.

He hauls you back up onto your hands and knees, positioning himself at the edge of the bed-your face level with his throbbing cock. Every twitch sends a bead of precum sliding down the angry red tip, already mixed with your cum.

"Make me cum, bunny."

"Wha-?" you mumble, still coming down from your high, vision spotting as you look up at him.

"C'mon, bunny," he groans. "You can't just leave me high and dry."

His hand comes down to grip his thick cock, the other cupping his balls. Your mouth waters instantly.

And then his earlier words echo in your head.

M'gonna breed you.

You whine softly and reach up, nudging his hands away so you can replace them with yours. You shuffle forward on your knees, settling in as you lean closer, both hands moving slowly up and down his shaft.

You tilt your head, staring up at him as you muster the best face you can manage, cheek brushing against the warm weight of him. You love the sounds he's making—ragged moans as he loses control.

"Want it inside," you beg.

Simon's eye twitches.

His breathing turns rough, uneven, gaze hardening as they lock onto you. For a split second, you almost wonder if you've crossed a line.

His grip snaps tight in your hair, the burn sharp enough to steal your breath. You barely have time to yelp before he's shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat hard.

It's sudden. Too sudden.

You choke, gagging around him as he thrusts shallow and rough, spit bubbling at your lips and dripping down onto him.

Your head rocks back and forth as you grip his thighs to steady yourself, fingers digging in.

His grip doesn't falter, using it as leverage to drive you deeper. It's brutal. Too much. The sounds you're making would make you blush under any other circumstance.

Your throat burns, gag reflex overwhelmed as you choke around him, fluids spilling from your mouth every time he pushes deeper. Your cunt gushes as he uses your throat for his own pleasure.

"Yeeeeah gimmie that—gurg, gurg—baby."

He grips the base—what you can't fully take-along with his balls, forcing it down. Your eyes widen as you physically feel the stretch of your throat around him.

You tap at his thighs hard and fast, panic spiking just before he finally releases you.

You pull back immediately, coughing, gagging as phlegm spills from your mouth. Your face is a complete mess when he grips your hair again, jerking himself fast and hard. His expression twists with pleasure and desperation, lips caught between his teeth.

Your hand slips down between your legs, rubbing at yourself as he works his cock over your face.

"M'close," he breathes, chest red and heaving, focus razor-sharp.

"Fuuuck, bunny."

Before you can say anything, you feel it—sticky ropes splashing across your face, catching in your hair, your lashes, your brows, your lips. Everywhere. It lasts longer than you expect, enough to leave you stunned.

He grips the tip, giving a final stroke before tapping your cheek and pulling away.

You look up at him as he backs off, dragging your fingers through the mess on your face and bringing them to your mouth, licking them clean.

"Don't do this to me, bunny," he groans.

You giggle softly, the sound weak and breathless, before collapsing back onto the bed. The exhaustion finally catching up on you. Every muscle feels loose, heavy, like your body forgot how to work all at once.

The mattress dips as he moves closer again, slower now.

"Easy," he murmurs, hand settling at your side to keep you from rolling awkwardly. He grabs something off the nightstand—a cloth, a shirt, whatever's closest—and gently wipes at your face, patient, thorough.

Your eyes flutter half-closed as he works, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing finally evening out. The tension from before disappearing and turning into something soft, and peaceful.

"There you go," he says softly, brushing your hair back from your forehead. His thumb lingers there for a second longer than necessary.

You hum in response, too spent to form real words.

He shifts again, sliding into the bed beside you and tugging the covers up around you, making sure you're warm. When he settles beside you, he pulls you in without asking, arm firm and grounding around your shoulders.

You melt into him easily.

For a while, neither of you says anything. You just lie there, your head on his chest, his breathing steady beneath your ear. His hand traces slow, absent lines along your arm.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

You nod against him, eyes closed. "M'good,"

His arm tightens just a little.

"Good."

You smile to yourself, fingers drifting over the scars and dips along his chest. "Thought you said you were gonna breed me," you joke softly.

He lets out a low laugh, warm and deep, the sound vibrating through you.

"That was heat talk, bunny," he says easily. His hand slides to your waist, fingers trailing along your stretch marks.

You tilt your head, listening.

"When i do cum in your pretty pussy," he pauses, other hand reaching to drag a finger along your cheek. "It's gonna be for a reason.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

© all content belongs to httpxyeager 2026. do not modify or repost.

As the elevators pinged, sounding the arrival of the 8th floor of the library tower, you lifted your shoulders slightly to adjust the straps of your bag as you and other fellow students pulled out onto the floor.  You looked around the floor, scanning it for any open seats, but the open common area had always been full of people in small student groups. You walk to the left, then make another left around the corner, deciding to just find a small, quiet study nook near the edges of the bookshelves, lined up behind the elevator area. It was quieter anyway and more private as the desks were designed like small booths where students could enjoy their small space. Walking past some of those booths, some being empty, some being occupied by students, you finally settled on one that was a bit further away from some booths with students in them, and you made yourself comfortable by setting down your bag next to the chair and draping your hoodie over the back of the chair.  Reaching over, next to the chair, you open the window just slightly to let some fresh air in before sitting down and turning on the light provided by the booth as you take out your laptop, ready to really lock in as the first wave of exams is approaching…

You sighed as you opened your laptop, slightly slouching down in your seat as you opened up your school’s portal website to access your classes to see your professors’ announcements on the exams. Typing in your school credentials and waiting for the page to load, you take a deep breath in the smell of autumn rain.  Looking to your right, out the window, it can be seen that the sky was very gloomy, pretty typical for this small college down in Arden… It's either raining or preparing for rain at any time of day and any season other than winter, when it paints the whole town white with snow. The soft sounds of rain only added to the soft music that plays through your headphones as you turn back to your laptop, seeing that the site is finally loaded. Looking down to check the time.

2:24 PM You had planned to stay until 8 PM, forcing yourself to lock yourself into studying for the rest of the day, as you had only one lecture in the morning and then a discussion block right after lunch. So you cleared the rest of the day for yourself to lock in at the library because god knows that if you had gone back to your dorm, you would not have touched upon a single note from the lecture and would be doomscrolling on your phone instead.  Opening up the announcements, you jotted down some notes about exam contents onto a notes tab on your laptop, making a detailed list for yourself to refer to as you study through the next couple of hours. As you typed, you suddenly heard a growl from the outside. You turned your head over to the window, looking out, when suddenly a small flash of light could be seen from a distance, and suddenly the wind blowing in from the small crack you opened up became a little too cold for your liking. Shivering a bit, you quickly shut the window as you assume a bigger storm is coming the town’s way.  Multiple dark, ominous clouds have started to gather around as the sky darkens further. The weather itself made you not want to even step outside, so at least that helped with forcing yourself to stay in the library and be productive. Reaching back, you grabbed your hoodie and threw it around yourself as you zipped it up, relieving yourself from the cold. Opening up a couple more tabs, you started to really get started on the studying, and you began with the easier courses to help ease yourself into a flow. Taking your notebook out and pulling up the lecture slides, you began to jot down some important information that you needed to memorize. You clicked on the back of the mechanical pencil that you held to push some more lead out for you to write. It was writing so smoothly until you accidentally applied too much pressure at a certain angle, and it… Snap Growls and the smell of musk began to reek out from the laboratory that was underground in the science building…

The underground level had always carried a certain stillness to it. The kind that pressed against the ears when the ventilation hummed too quietly, and fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The stillness loomed over the laboratory with an uncomfortable coldness. A stainless steel tray clattered against the tile floor somewhere deep within the corridor, the sound echoing far louder than it should have in the empty hallway. Inside a lab room, a cracked glass vial slowly leaked its contents across a metal counter, droplets sliding down to the floor where they pooled beside discarded latex gloves. The research assistants who had once occupied the room were no longer standing where they had been moments before. One body lay collapsed beside a workstation, fingers twitching faintly against the linoleum. Another leaned unnaturally against the far wall, lab coat streaked with darkening blood that soaked slowly into the fabric. A wet, ragged breath filled the silence. Then another. The figure on the floor began to move. But it didn’t look right at all… It wasn’t the slow stirring of someone regaining consciousness, but something far more unnatural. Muscles jerked violently beneath the pale skin as fingers scraped against the tile. Nails clawed uselessly against the ground before the body twisted, spine bending at an angle that made the joints crack audibly in the empty room.

A low, guttural sound rolled from its throat. A growl The smell followed shortly after… A smell that was thick, metallic, and rotten. Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside. A supervising professor, Professor Hargrove, had entered the building, holding some marked-up data and lab reports from his PhD students, which he needed to give back. He figured he should stop by the lab as they worked to help guide and supervise as needed. He adjusted the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he approached the lab door, but something made him pause as he was about to reach for the lab door. It was too quiet.

There should be at least some clinking of tools being used and the occasional muddering between people. There was nothing this afternoon… No voices.

No equipment. Just the faint flicker of a fluorescent bulb above him. His eyebrows frowned slightly, trying to think of why it could have been this quiet… Did he get these days wrong? Was it supposed to be tomorrow that the students gathered in the lab? He checked his phone to confirm the time and date, but it all matched up. Placing his phone back into his pocket, he reaches for the door handle to the lab and slowly pushes it open. “Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing into the room and down the corridor, too. No response. The smell hit him next. He recoiled slightly, wrinkling his nose as the scent drifted through the doorway. Something foul… Thick and damp in the air. “Did someone spill something down here?” he muttered under his breath. He pushed the door open further. The overhead lights inside flickered weakly. At first, he didn’t understand what he was seeing. One of the graduate students lay motionless beside the workstation, lab coat crumpled beneath them. Another figure stood across the room, hunched forward with its back facing the door. “Hey—?” Hargrove started, stepping inside. “Are you alright? What happened in—”

The figure moved. Slowly Its head twisted first. Not turning normally. Rotating far further than it should have Crack The sound of bones cracking from the neck echoes in Hargrove‘s ears. The professor froze. Shivers of fear rang through his entire body as his hand felt as he dropped the papers that were once in his hands.

Its face came into view under the flickering lights…its skin pale and stretched tight, lips peeled back from teeth that were stained dark with blood. The eyes… they weren’t focused. They weren’t seeing him. They were searching. A deep, animalistic growl vibrated from its chest. Hargrove’s breath caught in his throat. It felt dry… “What the hell—” The creature lunged. The speed of it shattered the stillness of the room instantly. Metal trays crashed to the floor as Hargrove stumbled backward, nearly slipping on the slick tile as he turned and bolted for the hallway, arms crashing into the wall before using that as leverage to give him an extra boost. “Jesus—!” He didn’t look back. His shoes pounded violently against the linoleum floor as the growling behind him grew louder. Closer The echo of dragging footsteps followed him out of the lab as something slammed violently into the doorframe behind him. “Help! Someone—! Please!” The hallway stretched endlessly ahead as panic flooded his chest. He could feel his heart pounding throughout his body; at this point, he could hear it pounding…His hands fumbled into his coat pocket, fingers shaking as he yanked out his phone. His thumb slipped against the screen once. Twice. Finally, the call button lit up. He pressed it desperately against his ear as he ran. Behind him, the growling grew louder. Faster.

Closer. Then— Buzz…buzz… Leon huffed as he dropped into his car, the door shutting with a dull thud that echoed briefly in the quiet parking lot. He let out a tired groan, shifting slightly as he leaned back into the seat. His left arm came up instinctively, elbow propped against the window as his hand pressed against his temple. It had been a long day. Too long. The faint patter of rain tapped against the windshield while gray clouds stretched endlessly across the sky above New York’s outskirts. Autumn had settled in fully now, with the damp air, cold wind, and the constant smell of wet pavement lingering everywhere. Leon closed his eyes for a moment. Just a moment. He had been in the area for the last two days following a lead the DSO had received regarding Neo-Umbrella activity somewhere in the region. Nothing concrete yet, just mere whispers of stolen biological samples moving through underground channels.

Still, that alone was enough to send him.

Any mention of Umbrella… or anything connected to it… never stayed small for long.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face before finally reaching forward to start the car.

It had been almost 30 years since that fateful night in Raccoon City… Now working as a government agent, tasked with secret missions that dealt with bioterrorism within the country and abroad. The last couple of years had taken a toll on him, mentally and physically, but with this line of work, he knew… Sooner or later, he will be willing to die for it if it comes to that point.

The engine rumbled to life. For a moment, everything was quiet. His eyes glanced to the rear view mirror, his eyes then suddenly peered into his own in the reflection. He could see it, the wrinkles and lines around his eyes, his forehead… his eyes too. It was no longer that bright blue color he had in his youth, back before Raccoon City had taken the color out of them. They looked cloudy… Those who have life and years slowly sucked out of him.

Then the phone sitting in the center console lit up.

A sharp vibration buzzed against the surface as the screen illuminated.

DSO Headquarters.

Leon sighed softly under his breath.

“Yeah…” he muttered, picking it up and bringing it to his ear. “Kennedy.”

The voice on the other end came quickly, tense, and almost out of breath as it seemed like they were just on another call seconds before.

“Kennedy, we’ve got a situation developing.”

Leon’s eyes opened immediately, the exhaustion fading from his expression.

“What kind of situation?”

There was a brief pause…“We’re receiving multiple emergency calls from Arden University…”

Leon frowned slightly, then his phone buzzed with a notification. He lowered his phone and placed the call on speaker as he opened the attachment sent. It was the location of the university. Clicking it onto maps, he pinches in on his phone to see the route, and he squints his eyes slightly to see the information better.

“That’s about thirty minutes north of here.”

“Exactly.”

Static crackled faintly through the phone as the signal in such a remote area was difficult to control, but the operator continued.

“Initial reports mention violent behavior, possible contamination inside one of the science buildings. Campus security has already lost contact with several staff members, and local authorities are reporting multiple injuries.”

Leon sat up straighter in his seat.

His hand tightened slightly around the phone.

“…Define violent behavior.”

Another pause. When the voice spoke again, it was quieter, “Witnesses are describing… Attacks… Biting… Mutations…”

Leon’s jaw clenched. A familiar weight settled in his chest, it’s the kind that always came when a situation started sounding too much like the past.

Raccoon City

He stared out through the rain-speckled windshield.

“…Umbrella?” he asked.

“No… Neo-Umbrella…We can’t confirm yet. But given the intel you were already following in the area, command wants you there immediately.”

Leon didn’t hesitate.

“Understood.”

“Local law enforcement is already responding, but they have no idea what they’re walking into. They’re trying to gather as many survivors as they can and keep them in safe facilities… but ” the operator pauses before revealing…

“There are still many students on campus… It’s the middle of the semester.”

“Fuck…” Leon groans as the grip on the wheels tightens. The rain outside grew heavier, drumming softly against the roof of the car.

“Kennedy.”

Leon reached forward, shifting the car into drive.

“Get there fast.”

The call ended with a sharp click. Leon lowered the phone slowly, eyes fixed ahead as the pieces began to fall into place in his mind.

Thirty minutes.

“…Shit.”

The windshield wipers swept across the glass as he pulled out of the lot, tires cutting through the wet pavement as the car accelerated onto the road. Up ahead, far in the distance beyond the hills and thick forest surrounding the small college town…

He glanced over at the display in his car that was on a GPS guiding him to the university, and he saw.

Current Time: 4:58 PM

Estimated Time of Arrival: 5:32 PM

A storm was beginning to roll in.

And Leon Kennedy was driving straight into it… His wheels screeched across the pavement as he made a sharp turn, the car fishtailing slightly before gripping the wet road again.

Above him, the clouds rumbled violently, thunder rolling across the sky as the storm closed in over the darkening hills.

The windshield wipers swept furiously back and forth.

The town sat somewhere ahead in the distance.

Waiting.

Ping

Your pencil moved steadily across the page.

The quiet scratching of graphite against paper blended softly with the music playing through your headphones, each note fading into the gentle rhythm of rain tapping against the window beside you.

At some point, the world around you had faded away.

You were locked in now and fully immersed in the flow of studying. Words from the lecture slides blurred together with the notes filling your notebook, equations and bullet points forming neat lines across the page as your hand moved almost automatically.

Another line.

Another note.

Another page.

You clicked the back of your mechanical pencil again, pushing more lead forward.

The dim light above your study booth cast a small pool of warmth across the desk while the rest of the library shelves behind you faded into darker shadows between rows of books.

The floor had grown quieter over the last few hours.

Most of the students in the common area had begun packing up slowly as evening approached, their muffled voices drifting faintly down the aisles between the bookshelves. Talks of grabbing food from the dining hall or going to grab another can of Celsius slowly eased out with the occasional elevator ding.

Your eyes flicked briefly toward the window to your right.

For a split second, a bright flash split across the distant sky.

The light flooded the horizon beyond the fog-covered campus before vanishing just as quickly.

A beat later—

CRACK

Thunder roared through the sky so loudly that you felt the vibration hum faintly through the glass.

You blinked.

The air in the library suddenly felt… Different. It was heavier… Thicker somehow.

You shifted slightly in your seat, your gaze drifting away from your notes as you glanced around the dim section of shelves surrounding your booth. The only lights here were the ones mounted above each small study desk and the faint fluorescent strips lining the distant aisles. Beyond that, most of the floor sat in a comfortable shadow.

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

Then slowly—

Noise began spilling in from the open common area again.

Chairs scraping against the floor.

Backpacks zipping.

Low murmurs of conversation as students started leaving earlier than usual, their footsteps echoing softly across the polished floor as they headed toward the elevators.

You glanced down at the corner of your laptop screen.

5:02 PM.

It was earlier than you expected people to start clearing out. You frowned slightly, and just as you looked back down at your notes—

Ping

A small notification appeared in the corner of your laptop screen.

You paused as the university portal had refreshed automatically, and your cursor hovered over the notification before you clicked it open.

EMERGENCY ALERT: ARDEN STATE UNIVERSITY

Your brow furrowed slightly, eyes squinting, but before you could even read the message—

A scream tore through the air outside.

Your chair scraped loudly against the floor as you shot to your feet.

“What the—”

You rushed to the window beside your booth, pressing a hand against the glass as you leaned forward, trying to look down toward the campus courtyard below.

But you couldn’t see anything…A thick blanket of fog had rolled in across the grounds, swallowing the pathways and buildings beneath the library tower.

The heavy gray mist hid everything beyond a few dozen feet.

Another scream echoed through the distance.

This time closer.

Footsteps suddenly erupted across the library floor behind you.

Fast.

Panicked.

People were running.

“What’s going on—?”

“I don’t know—!”

“Did you see the alert?!”

Your heart began to pound in your chest. You grabbed your phone quickly from the desk, unlocking it with shaky fingers as the emergency notification filled the screen.

Your eyes scanned the message…

EMERGENCY NOTICE: ARDEN STATE UNIVERSITY

Reports of a viral outbreak have been confirmed within the campus area.

Students and faculty are advised to seek immediate shelter and remain in a secure location until law enforcement personnel arrive to conduct evacuation procedures.

Avoid all contact with infected individuals.

Further instructions will follow.

For a moment—

Everything around you felt like it stopped.

Viral outbreak.

Your stomach dropped when another scream echoed outside, much louder this time.

And suddenly—

The entire library floor erupted into chaos.

Footsteps thundered across the room as students began running for the elevators, chairs toppling over, and bags forgotten as panic spread faster than the words people were shouting to each other.

You stood frozen beside the window, the glow of your phone lighting your face as the words on the screen blurred slightly.

Viral outbreak.

Seek shelter.

Law enforcement incoming.

Outside, something moved in the fog, but before you could focus on it, a terrified voice screamed from somewhere near the entrance of the floor.

“They’re inside—!”

Your head snapped toward the voice, and your body moved before your mind could even process the words.

They’re inside.

Your chair scraped violently across the floor as you shoved your belongings into your bag with shaking hands. Papers crumpled together, your notebook half-closed as you threw everything inside without thinking.

The zipper caught.

You yanked it harder.

Your bag flew over your shoulder as your feet finally obeyed the instinct screaming inside your chest.

Run.

You bolted out of the study booth, shoes pounding against the floor as you rushed down the rows of other booths lined up against the windows. You ran to the common area.

Students were everywhere now.

Some running.

Some shouting.

Some froze in place as the panic spread across the floor like wildfire.

“What’s happening?!”

“Move—MOVE!”

“Get to the elevators!”

The overhead lights flickered. You looked up and mentally cursed, and then you looked back at the elevator, where you saw multiple students trying to squeeze their way in. Even if you tried… You definitely wouldn’t be able to get a spot there.

The lights flickered once again…

Once.

Twice.

Then—

Darkness

A collective gas rippled through the library as the lights from the elevators shut down… it definitely wasn’t able to operate anymore, and students bolted to the emergency exits.

Your heart slammed violently against your ribs as the floor was swallowed in shadows, the only light now coming from the dim emergency strips along the far wall and the faint glow of laptop screens abandoned across desks.

Another scream tore through the air as the emergency doors opened up.

You knew that exit wasn’t safe either, so you turned and continued to run, but this time back to the quiet student area you once were… running then turning into the rows and columns of bookshelves.

You didn’t stop running.

You couldn’t.

Your breath came faster now, sharp and uneven as you turned down another aisle between towering shelves of books.

The rows stretched endlessly ahead of you.

Left.

Right.

Left again.

Your feet barely registered where they were taking you anymore.

The rows of bookshelves blurred together as you ran past them, your phone’s thin beam of light jittering wildly across hundreds of book spines that flashed past like endless vertical lines in the dark.

The aisles felt narrower now.

Too narrow.

Each time you turned a corner, another wall of shelves appeared, stretching taller and taller above you, their shadows leaning inward as the flickering emergency lights cast long, crooked silhouettes across the floor.

Your shoulder brushed against one of the shelves.

Books shifted.

The sound echoed far too loudly in the dark.

You stumbled forward again, breath hitching in your throat as your mind struggled to make sense of the layout you had walked through so many times before.

This floor of the library had always felt spacious.

Quiet.

Safe.

Now it felt like the shelves were rearranging themselves around you.

Closing in.

Each aisle is tighter than the last. Then you feel it, your ears ringing, muffling any sounds that reach it…

Your light swung wildly again as you turned another corner, the beam catching floating dust in the air that drifted like thick fog between the shelves.

Your chest tightened.

The air felt heavier here.

Like the walls were pressing closer.

Like the ceiling had dropped lower.

Like the aisles were shrinking every time you ran through them.

Your breath came faster now, shallow and sharp as your lungs struggled to pull in enough air.

You couldn’t hear the common area anymore.

Only your footsteps.

Only your heartbeat is pounding inside your ears.

Only the faint echo of something moving somewhere behind you.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

Your phone light bounced across another aisle—

And suddenly—

A small metal door appeared between two shelves…

Your footsteps echoed far too loudly.

Every sound felt amplified.

Your breathing.

Your heartbeat.

The distant chaos erupts across the floor.

And beneath it—

Something else.

A low, guttural sound somewhere far behind you.

Your stomach twisted.

Don’t think.

Just hide.

A storage closet.

Your chest tightened with desperate relief.

You rushed forward, your fingers gripping the handle as you yanked it open.

The door creaked loudly. Too loudly for your liking as your grip on the handle tenses up even more than it already was.

You slipped inside quickly, pulling it shut behind you as gently as your shaking hands would allow.

Darkness swallowed you immediately.

The closet was small, with the smell of cleaning supplies hitting your senses as you tried to catch your breath. There was barely enough space for shelves filled with extra boxes of paper and cleaning supplies.

You squeezed yourself between them, pressing your back against the cold wall as you quickly shut off the flashlight on your phone.

Silence.

Your breathing was too loud… You pressed a hand over your mouth.

Outside the door—

Footsteps thundered through the aisles. You heard loud crashes as whatever it was… it was knocking over some bookshelves as it made its way through them… The echo of crashes can still be heard as one shelf toppling over creates some sort of domino effect, knocking over the shelf in front of it as it falls on top of it… It repeats...

You heard running, screaming, crying, but all from a distance…

Then something else followed.

Slow.

Dragging.

A wet growl echoed faintly between the shelves.

Your entire body went rigid.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The sound drifted closer.

Closer.

Until it stopped somewhere outside the closet door.

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

And for the first time since the alert appeared on your phone…

You realized something terrifying.

You were alone.

The realization settled heavily in your chest, colder than the air pressing against the back of your neck. Your eyes darted around the cramped storage closet, the small bit of light from your phone screen briefly flickering back on as your mind scrambled to think.

The door.

Lock the door.

Your hands moved quickly, fingers fumbling in the dim light until you found the small metal latch beside the handle. It slid into place with a soft click that sounded far louder than it should have in the suffocating quiet.

Your breath caught.

You froze.

Listening.

Nothing immediately reacted.

Good…Good…You thought to yourself. You swallowed hard and quickly clicked the power button on your phone and placed it in the back pocket of your jeans, plunging yourself back into darkness as your hands searched blindly along the shelves around you.

Your fingers brushed against plastic bins, cleaning bottles, and stacks of unopened printer paper. You grabbed what you could, slowly dragging a heavy box across the floor until it pressed firmly against the base of the door, the cardboard scraped faintly against the tile.

You winced.

Too loud.

You stopped moving.

Your heart pounded so violently that you were sure it could be heard through the walls as you felt the pulse all the way up to your head. For a moment, you simply stood there, one hand braced against the door as your breathing struggled to quiet itself.

Then—

A scream ripped through the library outside.

Not distant this time.

Close.

Too close.

Your entire body tensed as the sound echoed through the shelves beyond the closet.

Another voice followed.

Crying.

Pleading.

“Please—! Please!”

Something crashed violently against the floor.

The sharp crack of splintering wood followed.

Then another scream.

Cut short.

Your hearing slowly sharpened as the initial shock began to fade, each sound outside the small room becoming clearer now that the panic in your head had begun to settle into something colder.

Something more focused.

Footsteps.

Running.

More screams, then a sound of splatter followed by a gasp… You knew what that sound was…

The sound of something dragging across the floor.

A low, wet growl rolled through the air somewhere beyond the shelves.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Your hand slowly rose to cover your mouth, muffling the shaky breath that threatened to escape you.

You pressed yourself further back against the cold wall behind you, shrinking deeper into the cramped corner between stacked boxes and shelves of supplies.

The closet suddenly felt impossibly small.

A box.

A thin metal door separates you from whatever nightmare had swallowed the library outside.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the sounds continued.

Cries.

Crashes.

Something heavy is hitting the ground.

Then that horrible sound again. That growl…

Your chest tightened painfully as the truth finally settled in your mind.

Whatever was happening out there…

You should not leave this room.

Not now.

Not for anything.

So you stayed.

Silent.

Barely breathing, hoping the thin metal door between you and the darkness outside was enough.

You stayed frozen.

Your back pressed tightly against the cold wall, one hand still clamped over your mouth as you fought to keep your breathing quiet.

For a moment…

Nothing.

Just the distant echoes of chaos somewhere deeper in the library.

Then—

A sound.

Footsteps.

Heavy.

Slow.

Dragging.

Your eyes snapped open in the darkness.

The sound came from somewhere in the aisle just outside the closet.

One step.

Drag

Another step.

Drag

The noise scraped across the floor like something struggling to move properly, shoes…or maybe bare feet…dragging unevenly against the tile.

Your heart lurched violently.

It was close.

Too close.

A low growl followed, vibrating faintly through the thin metal door in front of you.

Your entire body locked up.

Don’t breathe.

Don’t move.

Don’t make a sound.

The footsteps stopped.

Right outside the door.

The silence that followed felt unbearable, stretching longer and longer until your ears began to ring from the effort of listening.

Your heartbeat pounded violently against your ribs.

Too loud.

Way too loud.

You were sure what it was… it could hear it.

Your fingers pressed harder over your mouth, muffling the shaky breaths trying to escape your lungs as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down—

But it didn’t work.

Your chest trembled as panic flooded through you again, your mind spiraling as every instinct screamed that something was standing just inches away on the other side of that door.

The air inside the closet felt suffocating now, thick and stale as your lungs struggled to pull in quiet breaths.

Then—

BANG

The door shook violently as something slammed into it from the other side.

You flinched so hard your shoulder hit the shelf behind you.

A choked sound escaped your throat before you could stop it.

Your entire body went rigid.

Oh God.

Oh God—

Your heart felt like it dropped straight into your stomach, nausea twisting violently in your gut as the door rattled against the box you had pushed in front of it.

For one terrifying moment, you were sure it would break through.

Your vision blurred.

Your chest burned.

You thought you might throw up.

Your hand clamped tighter over your mouth as tears spilled silently down your face, your shoulders trembling as you fought desperately to keep any sound from escaping.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry—

Another growl scratched against the metal door.

Closer.

Your nails dug into your palm as you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking quietly as you curled further into the corner of the closet.

You held your breath.

Hold your mouth shut.

Hold yourself together as tightly as you can.

And prayed—

Whatever was outside that door…Would leave. You didn’t want to die, you thought to yourself, hoping there was some higher being listening to your pleas and prayers as you curled up in the back of the storage closet.

You didn’t want it all to end right now; you still had a family, friends, a job waiting for you in the outside world, a life. You prayed and prayed and even thought of some classmates, people you passed during the halls or in the library every day… Were they okay? Did they get out safely?

BANG

The door shuddered violently against the box you had pushed in front of it, the metal rattling hard enough that the entire closet seemed to tremble.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your fingers dug deeper into your palm as you squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body locking up as you waited for the next impact.

But instead—

CRACK.

Gunshots rang out somewhere outside the building.

Police sirens wailed across the campus as flashing red and blue lights cut through the thick fog rolling over the university grounds.

Another gunshot echoed across the courtyard.

Then another.

Leon’s car skidded to a stop near the barricade of patrol vehicles blocking the main road leading into the university. The tires hissed against the wet pavement as he threw the car into park, the engine barely shutting off before he pushed the door open.

Cold rain hit his face instantly.

Officers rushed back and forth across the perimeter, some shouting orders while others helped injured students toward waiting ambulances parked along the edge of the campus.

The entire place looked like chaos.

Leon stepped out quickly, shutting the car door behind him as another series of gunshots echoed from somewhere deeper inside the campus.

Two officers nearby fired toward the fog-covered path leading between the buildings.

“Stay back! Stay back!”

Leon’s eyes followed their aim.

A figure stumbled out of the mist.

At first glance, it looked like a student.

But the way it moved—

Unsteady.

Jerking.

Blood streaked across the front of its shirt as it lurched forward.

“Drop it!” one of the officers shouted, but the figure didn’t stop, and another gunshot cracked through the air.

The body dropped instantly.

Leon’s jaw tightened.

Yeah… That confirmed it.

He moved quickly toward the police barricade where several officers were gathered around a temporary command setup.

One of them looked up.

“You can’t be—” the officer was about to scold him off the premises.

“Leon Kennedy. DSO.” Leon said quickly in a deep and dark voice, flashing his credentials.

The officer’s expression shifted immediately.

“Oh—shit. They said someone from the federal government was coming.”

Leon glanced past him toward the campus buildings looming through the fog.

“Give me the rundown.”

The officer exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“It started about an hour ago. Science building. Students and faculty started… attacking each other… At first, campus police thought it was just some altercation between students and staff members until we saw what they were doing…”

He hesitated slightly.

“Biting.”

Leon nodded once.

“Figures.”

“They looked like zombies, and anyone who was bitten became one of them…We’ve got units clearing lecture halls and dorm wings right now,” the officer continued, pointing toward the western side of campus where more police lights flickered through the fog.

“But there’s one building we haven’t been able to reach yet.”

Leon already had a feeling he knew which one. He had scanned the place to see shots and smoke ringing out of multiple smaller and lower buildings around campus…all except one.

“The library tower.”

The officer nodded grimly as he turned towards the tower, “It’s bad in there. A lot of infected moved inside when people started running. Too many for us to push through safely.”

Another gunshot echoed across the courtyard behind them.

“We know there were still students studying when the alert went out,” the officer continued. “Which means…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Leon looked up. The tall silhouette of the library tower loomed through the fog at the center of campus, its upper floors barely visible through the storm clouds rolling overhead.

Lights flickered weakly through some of the windows.

Somewhere inside that building—

People could still be alive.

Leon reached back into his car, pulling out the black case resting on the passenger seat. The latch clicked open, and inside sat his handgun and gear.

The officer watched him, “You’re not seriously going in there alone, are you?”

Leon slid the pistol into its holster, and the rain dripped steadily from the edge of his jacket as he shut the case. He looked back up at the towering building, “If there are survivors in there,” he said calmly, “they’re not going to last long.”

“I’ll have the team clear out anything from the ground surrounding the tower, from what I heard, there are no one past the 8th floor of that tower, even if students or staff needed to hide, they needed a special access to get to the 9th floor and beyond” the officer informed him as he walks away, pulling up his walkie as he radios to some subordinates to gather around the tower grounds to help assist as he leaves the tower itself to Leon.

Another distant growl echoed from somewhere deep within the fog-covered campus.

Leon started toward the library… The library tower loomed over the rest of the campus like a dark monument against the storm.

Even from across the courtyard, it dominated everything around it, its tall glass windows stretching upward into the fog where the upper floors disappeared into the low-hanging clouds. Lightning flickered faintly behind the structure, illuminating the building for a split second before darkness swallowed it again.

Leon slowed his pace as he approached.

Rain dripped from the edge of his jacket while his boots stepped quietly across the wet pavement. His handgun was already raised in a steady two-handed grip, the muzzle angled toward the entrance as his eyes scanned every shadow around the building.

The campus had gone eerily quiet here.

The police perimeter was several buildings away now, leaving the library standing alone in the storm. A faint groan echoed from somewhere inside.

Leon stopped just short of the main doors; the lobby lights inside flickered weakly, casting long, broken reflections across the glass panels of the entrance.

Movement shifted behind them.

Leon’s eyes narrowed.

Three figures shuffled slowly across the lobby floor. Students… Or what used to be students… Their clothes were torn and stained dark with blood, their bodies moving with the same unnatural jerking motion he had seen countless times before. One of them dragged its leg uselessly behind it as it wandered past the front desk. Another slammed weakly against a bookshelf before slowly turning its head toward the doors. The sound of the rain hitting the glass must have caught its attention as its face lifted. Its mouth opened slightly, then a hollow growl pressed faintly against the glass.

Leon exhaled slowly.

“Yeah…” he muttered under his breath. “Definitely the work of Neo-Umbrella...” by the looks of the mutation… he has seen something similar.

He reached forward carefully, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside.

The hinge creaked softly, and the infected reacted instantly with their heads snapping toward the sound, but Leon didn’t hesitate.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Three quick shots echoed through the lobby. Each infected dropped almost instantly, their bodies collapsing heavily onto the marble floor as silence settled back into the building. Leon stepped inside fully now, the door closing quietly behind him.

The smell hit him first.

Blood.

Rot.

The same thick metallic scent that never left places like this. The flickering lights above him buzzed faintly as he moved deeper into the lobby, his boots echoing softly across the empty floor. Something about the scene made his chest tighten slightly.

The tall front desk, scattered papers across the floor, overturned chairs, and the silence that felt too heavy for a place that should have been full of people. For a moment, it didn’t feel like a university library; it felt like somewhere else, somewhere more familiar… Another building… Another night… Another outbreak.

His eyes drifted toward the wide staircase leading upward through the center of the building as lightning flashed outside the windows again, and for a brief second, the lobby lit up in white light.

Then the memory hit him.

The Raccoon City Police Department

The dark halls, broken lights, smell of blood in the air, and sounds of the dead moving through the building.

Leon’s grip tightened slightly around his handgun, “…Not again,” he murmured quietly. The storm thundered overhead, and somewhere above him in the tower a faint crash echoed through the upper floors.

Leon lifted his weapon again, eyes narrowing toward the stairwell. If there were still survivors inside this place…He was going to find them… He doesn't want another Raccoon City to happen… This time, he will make sure he can save someone… Anyone…

You didn’t know how much time had passed. Minutes? Maybe longer. At some point, the sounds outside the closet had stopped. No more footsteps. No more growls. No more screaming.

Just silence.

The kind that pressed against your ears so heavily it almost felt louder than the chaos that had come before… Your fingers slowly loosened from where they had been clamped over your mouth. Your hand trembled slightly as it dropped to your lap, the fabric of your sleeve damp where tears had soaked through.

Your chest still rose in small, careful breaths; you didn’t dare breathe any louder than that. You remained exactly where you had curled yourself into the corner of the closet, your back pressed against the cold metal shelving, knees drawn close to your chest.

Don’t move.

Don’t make noise.

Don’t exist.

Your eyes slowly opened; the darkness inside the small room hadn’t changed. It was still suffocatingly cramped, the faint smell of cleaning chemicals and cardboard filling the stale air. Boxes stacked around you formed uneven shadows that barely shifted in the faint gray light leaking through the thin crack beneath the door.

Your hand reached slowly into your pocket, taking out your phone as the screen lit up weakly as you unlocked it.

9%.

Your stomach sank, “…Shit,” you mouthed silently. Your charger sat uselessly inside your bag somewhere beside you, but it didn’t matter. The lights in the library had gone out when everything started, so if the building's power was down, there was nothing to plug into anyway.

You cursed yourself quietly in your head, knowing that you should have brought your portable charger. You almost always did, but today of all days, you left it in your dorm.

Your thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before the light dimmed automatically again. You quickly locked the phone, the sudden glow feeling far too bright in the small space. You couldn’t afford to waste the battery.

Not now… Not when it might be the only thing you had left.

The silence outside the closet continued.

No banging.

No footsteps.

Whatever had been outside earlier…It must have moved on. At least that’s what you told yourself, but still, you didn’t move, not even an inch. Your body remained locked in place against the wall, every muscle tense as if the slightest movement might somehow alert something lurking outside. Your ears strained against the quiet.

Listening.

Waiting.

Hoping.

The closet suddenly felt like the only safe place left in the entire building, so you stayed exactly where you were, far too afraid to even think about opening the door…

Leon moved carefully through the darkened interior of the library. The beam of his flashlight cut through the dim halls as he advanced, weapon raised and eyes scanning every corner before he stepped forward.

His boots echoed softly across the floor as he cleared another row of bookshelves, the shadows stretching long across the aisles as lightning flickered faintly through the tall windows.

The power was definitely out. Only the emergency lighting remained, draining whatever remaining energy there was in this tower, thin strips of dull red along the walls, casting weak illumination through the otherwise dark floors.

He checked another aisle. Empty.

A body lay near one of the study tables, motionless where it had collapsed. Leon paused only briefly, confirming the infection was down before continuing forward. Each step deeper into the tower made the building feel more and more like a maze.

Rows of shelves.

Study booths.

Endless corners.

Too many places for something to hide.

Leon reached the center stairwell and paused, listening, but there was nothing. He lifted his voice slightly, “DSO!” he called out. His voice carried through the quiet halls.

“If there are any survivors in the building, make yourself known!”

The words echoed faintly through the shelves, but there was no response, making Leon frown slightly. He had cleared the first few floors already, smaller lecture spaces, study areas, and reading rooms. Most had been empty aside from the infected that had wandered in when the panic started.

But if students had been studying when the alert went out…Some of them might have hidden, he thought; it seemed like a natural response. Leon adjusted his grip on the handgun and moved toward the stairwell.

One floor at a time.

The metal door creaked open as he stepped into the stairwell, the sound echoing loudly against the concrete walls as he began climbing.

Fourth floor.

Clear.

Fifth floor.

Five infected in the hallway.

Eight shots.

Silence again.

Sixth floor.

Empty.

Seventh—

A low growl echoed somewhere ahead as he stepped through the door, and Leon reacted instantly. A figure lurched out from behind a bookshelf, cracking and growling.ng

Pop.

The infection dropped.

Leon exhaled quietly and continued forward.

“DSO!” he called again, “If anyone can hear me, respond!”

Still nothing.

His boots hit the next stair landing.

Eighth floor.

Leon pushed the stairwell door open slowly. He scans the floor over; the floor beyond was darker than the others. The power here seemed completely out on this floor, as not even the light to the stairwell was on or flickering. He could see that the aisles between the bookshelves were swallowed in thick shadows as his flashlight swept slowly across the space.

Several figures moved between the rows. Four? Maybe five are infected. They wandered aimlessly through the aisles, their slow, dragging steps echoing faintly across the floor.

Leon’s jaw tightened as he stepped quietly onto the floor, raising his weapon as he prepared to clear the area, but the infected hadn’t noticed him yet.

Somewhere among the endless rows of shelves and study booths… Someone could still be hiding. He thought as he wandered through all the floors. All he has seen are those infected or already dead… He doubted himself for a second. Did he come too late? Could he have driven here quicker? Maybe then there could’ve been someone he found already…

Leon lifted his voice once more, loud enough to carry through the floor.

“DSO!”

His flashlight beam cut across the dark aisles, “If there are any survivors on this floor—”

He paused briefly, “Say something.”

This time, it sounded like a plea as his voice cracked. He prays… like genuinely prays… as he groans. He wants so hard to be able to not have this place become another Raccoon City. He had the chance to prove to himself that he was able to save and help people… tonight, he’s given another chance, and he sure as hell won’t let it pass him once again…

At first, you thought it was your imagination, a sound drifted faintly through the closet door; it was distant, muffled.

Pop.

Pop.

Your eyes snapped open, knowing that those sounds were gunshots, not the chaotic bursts you had heard earlier when everything started falling apart.

These were controlled.

Precise.

A pause.

Then—

“DSO!”

The voice echoed faintly through the floor outside, “If there are any survivors in the building, make yourself known!”

Your entire body went still, your breath caught in your throat. Your heart raced once again, knowing that there may be hope lying beyond the storage closet doors… Someone was out there… A person… Alive. Not the low, animalistic growls you had been hearing for what felt like hours.

Your heart started racing again, too fast, too loud, but another thought forced its way into your mind just as quickly. What if it wasn’t safe? What if being trapped here had caused you to start hallucinating and now hearing sounds? Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your sleeve. What if whatever those things were… could speak? What if it was a trap?

You stayed where you were. Frozen. Listening. Footsteps echoed faintly through the shelves outside, but they sounded slow, measured, not dragging, not stumbling, but moving with purpose and caution.

Then another gunshot cracked through the floor, then another… Your stomach twisted, and you flinched back at every shot as the sounds echoed between the aisles outside the closet. Whatever those things were outside these doors, someone was fighting them.

Your breathing trembled again as the voice carried through the shelves once more. Hearing figures drop onto the ground, with bullet carcasses clinking onto the floor as they fall.

“DSO!” You heard the voice again, closer this time, “If anyone can hear me, respond!”

Your body reacted before your mind could decide as you slowly shifted forward. Every small movement felt deafening in the tight space. Your hand carefully slid away from your mouth as you crawled across the narrow floor of the closet, your knees bumping softly against the stacked boxes as you moved toward the door.

The metal latch felt cold beneath your fingers. You didn’t open it. Not yet. You leaned forward slightly, pressing your ear close to the door, listening.

Footsteps moved somewhere between the shelves outside as you heard some shelves being slowly shoved away, and your heart pounded harder with every second. Your throat tightened. You hesitated. What if—

The footsteps began moving away.

Your chest dropped.

Through the thin metal door, you heard the faint shift of movement as whoever was outside began turning down another aisle, and the beam of light that had been faintly visible beneath the crack of the door started to drift away. Whoever this person was, they were leaving… About to move on.

Panic surged through you instantly.

“No—!”

Your voice burst out before you could stop it, “I’M HERE!” The words tore from your throat, louder than you intended, on the silent floor as your hand reached up, slamming against the door, fearing your voice was too low for the person to hear.

“PLEASE—!” Your voice cracked, “I’M IN HERE!”

Leon stopped mid-step, his head snapped back toward the aisle he had just cleared. For a brief second, something close to relief flickered across his face. There was someone…A survivor.

His eyes widened in shock as he thought this building and those who occupied it now were all…gone. But to hear a voice clear as day, he knew… this was all worth it. There was someone…

“Hey!” Leon called back immediately, his voice firm but calm as he turned and moved quickly through the shelves. “I hear you! Where are you?” The beam of his flashlight swept across the dark aisles as he retraced his steps back to the area he had just cleared.

Your voice came again, weaker this time, “Storage… closet…”

Leon followed the sound, his pace quick but controlled as he checked every corner he passed. His weapon stayed raised, the flashlight moving with practiced precision as he scanned each aisle before stepping forward. His heart raced slightly as he prayed that it wasn’t some sick joke his mind was playing on him.

He moved around the final shelf, and there it was… A small metal door tucked between two tall bookcases. Leon approached slowly, his light briefly sweeping across the surrounding aisles one last time. He lowered the gun slightly and stepped in front of the door.

“DSO, agent Leon Kennedy,” he presented himself, letting you know that he was an actual person and here to help. You in there?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t scaring whoever was behind the doors.

Your voice came from the other side, barely above a whisper, “…Yes.”

Leon can hear the shakiness in your speech, and he can definitely understand how this situation is making you feel. Knowing that most likely over 2 hours or so have passed since he got onto campus, he figures you had been hiding for way longer than that.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Listen to me.” His voice softened slightly, steady and reassuring, “The floor’s clear. You’re safe.”

You didn’t move right away; your hand still hovered over the latch as doubt and fear tangled in your chest. Safe? The word felt impossible after everything you had just heard outside that door. But his voice didn’t sound panicked; it was certain, assuring.

Slowly, your shaking hands began kicking away the boxes you had pushed against the door earlier. The cardboard scraped quietly across the floor as you cleared enough space to reach the handle; your fingers trembled as they slid the latch open.

The door creaked softly, and the moment it opened, a wave of air rushed into the closet. The smell hit you immediately, metallic, rotten… blood. Your stomach twisted as the stale air of the tiny room mixed with the heavy scent drifting through the library floor.

You looked up and your eyes squinted at the light hitting you as you reached a hand up to cover it slightly. The beam of his flashlight illuminated a tall figure standing just outside the door, handgun lowered slightly but still ready in his grip.

Through the beam of light, you see a figure with dirty blond hair, a dark jacket soaked from the rain, sharp blue eyes scanning you quickly to make sure you weren’t injured. He was an older man… You figured most likely a seasoned agent…

For a second, you just stared, your brain struggling to process that someone was actually there. Someone alive. Someone real. The fear you had been holding back for what felt like hours suddenly collapsed all at once.

Your vision blurred as a sob escaped your throat before you could stop it, “Oh my god—” Tears spilled freely down your face as your legs finally moved, carrying you forward out of the closet before you could even think about it. You rushed toward him, arms wrapped around him tightly, clinging to the front of his jacket as the panic you had been suppressing finally broke loose.

Your shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped you, “I—I thought—” Your voice broke apart completely.

Leon froze for a brief moment at the sudden contact, clearly not expecting it, but then his posture softened. One hand came up slowly, resting gently against your back as he let you hold onto him. He had seen that look on your face when that door opened up.

To him, you looked like you had been through hell and back. Being in a situation like this, you didn’t deserve that. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, “You’re alright.”

Your grip on his jacket slowly loosened as your breathing began to settle, though your hands still trembled slightly against the fabric.

Leon waited a moment, letting you steady yourself before gently pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly, “N-no… I just—” your voice wavered again, but you swallowed a sob hard and forced yourself to continue. “I was hiding the whole time.”

Leon gave a small nod, his eyes scanning you once more to make sure you weren’t injured before he stepped back slightly.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Then we need to move.” His gloved hand goes down to grab your hand firmly; his strength allows you to ground yourself a bit more. He glanced down the dim aisle of bookshelves again, the flashlight beam sweeping slowly across the dark floor.

He glanced briefly down the long aisles of the library again, all the places where people had been sitting just hours earlier. He then turns back to you to see if you’re ready to move yet. He takes in the sight of you fully now…still shivering, your hair a mess while some pieces stuck to your face due to the tears that were shed… for a second, Leon almost saw himself all those years ago…

The storm outside rumbled faintly through the tall windows of the tower.

“What about the others? Was there a—anyone else?” you choked on your words between the soft sobs as you asked him, looking up at him as your hand tightens around his that held yours, fearing he’ll accidentally slip away and leave you stranded once again.

He closes his flashlight and places it back onto his belt and frowns, unable to tell you the truth… He looks away from you and looks down. Just that reaction alone already told you everything you needed to know… You were the only one left alive in this building.

Your mind wanders back to when you just arrived at the library early in the afternoon, those faces you had passed, those figures that stood with you on the elevator, the laughs and smiles you glanced by at the common room… they could be any one of the dead bodies lying on the ground on this floor or below…

You shake, trying to hold back yet another sob as you cover your mouth with your hand. Your legs tremble. You should’ve helped and dragged some people into the closet with you… How could you be so selfish? Maybe someone else could’ve been safe too… “God… I could’ve—” your legs tremble and so do your words.

“No,” Leon sternly says as he steps closer to you. He takes his free hand and pulls your head into his chest as he tries his best to soothe you. He knew these feelings of guilt all too well; he didn’t have anyone to walk him through it back then, the least he could do was to help you now. “Shhh… Don’t blame yourself, sweetie… Nothing was your fault; this isn’t something we can control," he assured you.

Your shoulders shake with every sob, but he pats the back of your head, allowing you to take out any emotions you needed to. Your forehead bumps into his chin slightly, and his stubble pokes you just slightly, but you didn’t care; his touch and words were all you needed right now.

Leon gave you all the time you needed in that moment, but he wishes he could give more when suddenly he hears a growl from the staircase he took up.

“Stay close to me,” he said, pulling back from you and drawing his gun out, but one hand still held your hand. “Don’t wander off, and if anything moves—” He glanced back at you briefly, taking in your expression. You were still sobbing and sniffling, but a lot softer now as you managed to compose yourself a bit.

Leon releases your hand and goes to grab a smaller pistol from his belt, hesitating on whether he should give it to you or not. You looked at him as he held onto a pistol; you knew he wanted you to hold it. Your hands shake just slightly, but you bite back your nervousness as your body adjusts back to survival mode.

“I’ll take it…” You said softly, but this time you looked at him determined. You’ve held a gun once… That was back when you had gone to a shooting range with some friends. Your aim wasn’t terrible, but you knew that in order not to accidentally shoot yourself or Leon, you had to stay composed.

Leon gives you a smile, and you notice how some lines and wrinkles become slightly prominent when he does. God, he sure did look fine as fuck right then and there…

“Alright,” he said quietly, holding the pistol for you. It felt cold, but you tried to adjust your grip around it. Leon sees you slightly shaking and struggling and goes over and takes your hand in his, adjusting it himself as he stands behind you. His broad shoulders leaned over yours as his strong arms came around you, as he positioned it comfortably in your hands.

“There you go, sweetie. Let me know if you don’t think you can use it, okay? I just don’t want you being left fending for yourself if something comes up behind you,” He says as he lets go of your hands, stepping back. You nodded at him, assuring him that you were alright and would check your surroundings as the two of you made your way out of this place.

“We’re heading for the emergency stairwell; the regular one has too many infected walking up and down,” he says, turning back to the location of the sound he heard earlier, holding up a flashlight, drawing a beam towards that direction, “Stay right behind me.”

You nodded quickly, even though your legs still felt weak, “Yes, sir…” you weakly replied. Hearing you address him as sir did have Leon feel a little bit amused.

Leon started moving, and you followed right behind him immediately. The moment he stepped into the aisle, you moved with him, your hand instinctively reaching forward to grab his arm. Your fingers clenched tightly around his bicep, and you had to admit, this old man definitely packs a lot of muscle, and you can definitely feel that under his jacket.

Leon didn’t, in fact, he thought it was enduring seeing you hold onto him. To make it more secure, he placed his flashlight back as he didn’t need it, and he took your hand in his. “Is this better, sweetie?” he asked, smiling, making sure this was comfortable for you.

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you nod, “Yes… just don’t accidentally leave me alone here,” you ask, still a bit nervous. He chuckles, he couldn’t hold it back when you looked too cute, asking for assurance with that cute pleading expression.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I climbed all the way up this tower, I’m not leaving without the princess safe and sound,” he joked, lightening up the atmosphere a bit. You chuckle softly back at him as your shoulders slightly relax.

As you continued to walk, you made sure to look behind you and held the gun Leon gave to you in case you needed to use it. The library floor looked even worse now that you were out of the closet. As your eyes scanned around it, you had adjusted back to the dark already, so you could definitely make out your surroundings.

Papers from notebooks had been trampled and dragged through dark stains that smeared across the tiles, shelves flipped over, some broken, and books scattered everywhere. You tried not to look too closely, but your eyes caught something anyway.

A body.

One of the infected Leon had taken down earlier lay crumpled near the end of the aisle, a dark pool spreading slowly beneath its head. Your stomach lurched as you quickly looked away, your grip on Leon’s hand tightening.

Leon noticed, but he didn’t say anything about it. The building felt eerily quiet again, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows far above and the soft echo of your footsteps following him.

You stayed so close behind him that your shoulder almost brushed his back with every step. The stairwell door appeared at the end of the aisle. Leon approached slowly, his gun lifting again as he reached the handle.

Your fingers tightened again as the door creaked softly as he pushed it open. The stairwell beyond was darker than the library floor, the emergency lights barely illuminating the concrete steps spiraling downward.

Leon stepped inside first, while you followed instantly. As you step into the stairwell, the door shuts behind you with a heavy metallic clang, and your footsteps echo loudly now as the two of you start down the stairs.

Step.

Step.

Step.

The narrow space made every sound feel amplified: your breathing, your shoes against the concrete, the faint drip of water somewhere deeper below. You stayed so close to Leon because if you lost him in this darkness… You didn’t even want to think about it… The thought alone made your chest tighten.

Halfway down the next landing, a sound echoed from below, a low growl, the same one Leon had heard earlier, and he stopped instantly. Your entire body froze behind him as the two of you peered down the gap in the middle of the stairwell.

A shadow shifted.

Something moved slowly up the steps below, dragging, and quickly Leon adjusted his weapon.

“Behind me,” he said quietly. You didn’t need to be told twice. The shape lurched into the weak emergency light, another infected… It staggered up the stairs toward you guys.

Leon fired.

Pop.

The shot echoed violently through the stairwell, and the infected collapsed instantly, its body tumbling down the remaining steps with a sickening thud.

The sound echoed through the tower, and for a moment, the stairwell went silent again.

Leon exhaled slowly, “Let’s keep moving.”

And the two of you continued descending into the darkness, the gunshot echoed through the stairwell long after the infected’s body stopped tumbling down the steps. The sound bounced off the concrete walls.

Once.

Twice.

Then faded into a heavy silence.

Your hands were trembling badly now; you hadn’t realized just how tightly you were gripping Leon’s hand until your fingers began to ache. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the metallic scent of blood drifting up from the stairs below, and it made your stomach churn.

Your breathing became shaky again.

Leon noticed.

Then—

A low growl echoed from somewhere below.

Leon’s attention snapped back to the stairwell instantly. There was more movement. The gunshot from earlier had carried and most likely had triggered the attention of some infected that didn’t turn and mutate fully just yet when he made his initial rounds up the tower.

Several dragging footsteps began echoing from the lower floors. “…Great,” Leon muttered under his breath as he saw shadows shifting in the darkness as he peered down. Too many… You were already clinging to him more as the noise reached your ears, too.

The two of you began moving again, descending the narrow staircase quickly but carefully.

Step.

Step.

Step—

Your shoe slipped as the sole caught against something slick on the concrete, and your foot slid forward suddenly. A small gasp escaped you as your balance disappeared, but before you could fall—

Leon’s arm shot back instantly. His hand caught your arm, steady and firm, pulling you forward into him before you could hit the stairs. Your shoulder bumped lightly against his back as he steadied you.

“Careful,” he said quietly.

Your heart was racing so fast you were sure it might burst out of your chest.

“I— I’m sorry—”

“You’re fine, sweetie, I got you,” Leon reassured as he patted your arm a couple of times.

His grip loosened slowly once he was sure you were stable again, but for a brief moment his eyes lingered on you. Up close now…Really looking. Your eyes were wide as they looked up at him. You blinked as you're so much closer to his face now. He was definitely older…You had noticed it before when you first opened the closet door. He looks to be most likely twice your age… Lines at the corners of his eyes, a maturity in the way he carried himself, but not the kind of old that most people meant.

No. Something about him was… different. Weathered. Experienced. Yet somehow… He looked good for his age. Maybe too good. For a split second, your thoughts drifted there before the reality of the situation snapped back in.

Leon noticed the look, and he almost raised an eyebrow in amusement, but before either of you could say anything, both of you heard growls coming from below… and above…

Your breath caught instantly, “S-sir—”

“I’ve got you.”

His voice was calm in the darkness, but the sounds below had grown louder now.

More footsteps.

More dragging.

More growls.

Several infected were climbing the stairs now as Leon glanced down the stairwell again.

“…Alright,” he said quietly. His voice shifted slightly… rougher… “We need to move. Now. Quickly.”

The two of you ran deeper down the staircase together.

The rest of the descent was a lot easier for you now that, for every turn, you expect the worst to come. Adapting more to the sick and horrific environment you were trapped in, but the warmth that you felt from holding onto Leon’s hand was comforting… It was safe.

As the floors passed by through every other turn you guys made, you began to count down for yourself… the floors leading to finally the outside world… Freedom.

Your eyes flicked toward the number painted faintly on the wall beside the stairwell door. 4 Your breath hitched slightly.

Four more floors.

Four more turns.

Four more chances for something to go wrong.

Your fingers tightened instinctively against the pistol you held as you silently began counting down in your head. Please let us make it. The stairs creaked softly beneath your shoes as you followed him down to the next landing. 3 A distant growl echoed somewhere deep in the building. You froze for half a second, but Leon didn’t slow, so you forced your legs to keep moving. 

Please let us get out of here.

Another turn.

Another flight of stairs.

Your breathing grew quieter now, more controlled as your mind focused on the numbers. 2 The faint glow of emergency lighting flickered weakly from the lower level, and you could almost smell the rain through the cracks of the stairwell door below. Your heart pounded. Freedom was close.

So close.

Please…

Please…

The final landing appeared. 1 Your chest rose and fell slowly. Just one more…Please let us make it outside. Leon stepped forward, and your feet followed right behind him as the two of you descended the final steps together.

Leon turns around for a second to check up on you as both of you finally step down to the ground floor of this tower of hell. His breathing was heavy from it all, and both of you could hear muffled shots and sirens ringing out from the outside.

“You alright, sweetie? Hangin’ in there?” he checks in as you look up at him, seeing worries paint over his icy blue eyes as he scans you over. With one of your hands still clenching onto his, you give him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, sir… I’m all good— WATCH OUT BEHIND!” Your softened eyes suddenly widen in horror as you see an infected creeping up behind Leon.

Instinctively, you like your body took control of itself, the arm that held the pistol pulls forward as it aims at the infected, as you were about to shoot, the hand that held Leon accidentally pulls back as he loses his footing slightly when he was out of the way just enough, your index finger pulls the trigger…

POP

His eyes widen just slightly as he is pulled forward towards you and stumbles a bit before grounding himself with a leg out in front of him. You flinched back slightly from the blast of the gun.

“I…” you stood there in shock, still holding the gun, hands shaking as you saw the infected drop dead in front of you with a splat. You looked down at them… a student, as you saw that they were wearing the university-branded hoodie…

Your legs buckled, and Leon can see the shock just radiating off your body, and quickly holds you as your legs finally give out on you.

Collapsing onto the ground, dropping the weapon, you couldn’t believe what you had just done… You shot… “Someone… S-Sir, I shot someone…” You whispered… as your throat became dry. You didn’t mean to… They were already dead, right? But that was still someone… They—

“Hey— Stop it.” Leon shakes you slightly to get your attention to him and not the body on the ground in front of you guys. He shifted his position just slightly to get in front of you, blocking your view from the body, holding your shoulders firmly as he tried to snap you out of the trance you were in.

“They weren’t a person anymore, they had already—” Leon tried to explain to you like an officer once did to him 30 years ago… shooting and killing something that looked so human yet wasn't a moral dilemma he had to get over…

“But…” you tried to cut him off, but he gave you no chance to do so.

“You helped me, okay? You saved me, you saved yourself, that's what matters right now. Whatever these things that you see are, they are too far gone to be human anymore.” 

Leon looks into you, knowing that it all was hard to process, he knew because he was there before…

You stared blankly at him for a bit, trying to calm yourself as you realized that you had been hyperventilating. You shut your eyes, trying to control your breathing when you feel one of Leon’s hands leaving your shoulders, then something drops onto your lap.

You open your eyes, and you are met with Leon’s thumb whipping away the tears that began to fall from your eyes. You didn’t even realize you were crying. You looked down to your lap to see Leon’s glove as he had taken it off to wipe your face.

“S-sir…” you begin, looking back up at him, but he only chuckles.

“No need to be so formal, you can just call me Leon, okay?” He says with a smile while he continues to help wipe any tears that continue to fall, while his other hand rubs your shoulder, lightly massaging it to help calm your nerves. “You haven’t told me your name yet, y’know, I can’t be writing your name, sweetie, on my report later on,” he jokes.

You huffed out a chuckle as you thought about how funny it could be if you were listed as just “sweetie” on a report. You whispered your name to him, your voice cracking a bit towards the end.

Looking up at him, you saw how comforting just his presence had been the entire night, since he had found you…

“I think sweetie still suits you more,” he continued, easing up the scene for you as you finally were able to get your breathing to a normal pace.

“Thank you…Leon,” you said with a smile. The way his name had rolled off your tongue, Leon tenses up just a bit, and what doesn’t help is the adorable innocent expression you had on. It was all too sweet for him.

“Come on, we’re almost there, alright? I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound,” he assured. He turned to the side to grab the pistol you dropped and placed it back onto his strap.

You nodded with a hum of compliance, and you tried to stand back up, but maybe the nerves were still within your system because it was really difficult to get up until—

Leon hooks an arm under your leg while the other wraps around your back. You instinctively held onto his glove while your other hand held onto his shoulder as he picked you up, carrying you.

“L-Leon, you don’t have to—” you began to protest, seeing he had already gone through so much physical turmoil to get to you and to get you down here/

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I don’t want you wobbling your way out of here,” he chuckles as he turns to the side exit door of the emergency stairwell so he can avoid going through the lobby. He turned his back and pushed the door open.

Cold air floods your lungs.

Rain pours down in heavy sheets, soaking through your hair and clothes almost instantly as Leon steps out into the storm. You inhale deeply, the smell of wet pavement, you sigh out in relief… You made it out… No…

We made it out.

Flashing red and blue lights scatter across the campus courtyard as law enforcement officers rush toward the two of you the moment you emerge from the side of the library building.

“Over here!” someone shouts, and boots splash through puddles as officers hurry closer. From where you rest in Leon’s arms, you can see the campus now. There was smoke rising from several buildings, emergency vehicles lining the roads, and sirens echoing through the storm. The lights are so bright after the darkness of the library that you have to squint, and your mind struggles to keep up as voices overlap around you. Then you see hands guiding Leon somewhere, questions being asked, but everything begins to blur together.

The tension that had kept your body moving for hours finally collapses all at once as your limbs feel heavy. Your head drifts slightly against Leon’s shoulder as he carries you across the edge of the campus through the rain and chaos.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach a temporary emergency tent set up beyond the police barricade, and a folding chair is pulled out quickly.

“Easy,” Leon murmurs as he gently lowers you into it; your legs barely feel like they belong to you anymore. The rain continues to fall outside the tent while paramedics and officers move quickly around the area.

Someone kneels in front of you. You looked up. An officer.

“Miss, can you tell me your name?”

Your lips part. The words feel slow coming out…

“And do you have any ID with you?” nod as you pull your wallet out from the back pocket of your jeans, the only thing you had left on you other than your phone since everything else was left in the storage closet…

The officer takes it carefully, jotting something down, then another question follows: “Can you tell us what happened inside the library?”

Your chest tightens, and your mind flashes with images, sounds, feelings, and you quickly shut your eyes before those visions develop yet another panic attack.

“…I—” The words refuse to come. Your hands start trembling again. Before the officer can ask another question, Leon’s voice cuts in calmly from beside you.

“She’s in shock.”

The officer looks up as Leon stands just behind your chair, rainwater still dripping from his jacket.

“She’s been through enough tonight,” he continues. “You’ll get more from her later.”

The officer studies you for a moment before nodding, “…Understood.”

He stands, flipping the small notebook closed. “We’ve gathered several other surviving students and staff. They’re being relocated to a hotel just outside town until we get the situation under control.” His eyes return to you, “We’ll have someone escort you there shortly.”

“No need, I could drop her off there; she has seen enough for the evening to have to wait for an escort that could take forever,” Leon cuts in before the officer leaves. You looked up at him, surprised at his offer, your hand still held onto one of his gloves; it was comforting.

The officer looks at Leon, but seeing as he was a federal agent, they don’t dare object, and they nod before walking away.

“Wait here, okay, sweetie? I just need to get my car—” your hand reaches up and grabs at his jacket at the sight of the slight movement of him walking away. You didn't want to be left alone, not here, not now…

“Please… I don’t want to be left alone…” You plead. The last thing you wanted right now was to be left alone with your thoughts that could run off elsewhere. You look up at him with your eyebrows frowning in desperation.

Looking down at that, Leon completely doesn’t have the heart to deny you. He chuckles softly as he picks you back up and carries you once again as you lay your head into his chest, seeking the warmth it provides.

Walking to his car that wasn’t that much further, he looked down at you adoringly as you held onto him. He knows he shouldn’t be feeling the way he does currently… especially for a girl that is young enough to be his daughter, but the way you had been clinging to him like he is the only thing that can protect you from the cruel world made him feel more protective towards you… and it aroused him.

His car approached up ahead, and then you see a familiar logo up front… That’s a fucking Porsche…

You looked up at him with a shocked expression, like damn how much money does this old man have.

He chuckles as he sees your head turning towards him, knowing you saw his car, “What? Expecting something more expensive?” he jokes with you, and he lets out a laugh.

“More expensive? How much more expensive a car could an agent like you get…” Your jaw is wide open as he approaches the passenger side door. “Are you sure you’re not secretly involved with the mafia or something? Just how much money does a federal agent earn…I lowkey may need to reconsider my career path.”

He found it amusing as you goshed over his car. He opens the passenger seat and carefully places you in it. “I’ll have you know, sweetheart, this is not an easy job, but if you like the benefits so much, you should maybe marry an agent,” he teases as he takes the seat belt and bends over slightly to click it in place for you.

“Marry one?” You chuckle thinking about it, “I probably should then, I’ll keep that advice in mind,” you giggled as he chuckled along. He pulls back and shuts the passenger side door softly before walking around the car to the driver’s side. You couldn't help but admire his walk and his figure. The driver's side opens up as Leon plops down onto the seat with a groan.

“Whoever your wife is, she must be lucky then,” you teased, tilting your head, but you were also curious to see if he was married or not.

“Wife?” Leon ran a hand through his hair, amused that you thought he had a wife. “No, sweetheart… I’m a lonely old man,” Leon glanced away with a crooked smile.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Huhhh.” Your head jolted forward slightly, confused about how this hunk of a man doesn’t yet have a wife. “Well, someone better act quickly. If I were your wife, I would feel like I am set for life,” you added playfully.

Leon looked at you amusingly, feeling his ego boosted way off the roof of this car. He hasn’t felt like this in ages, talking to you like this definitely added a couple of years back onto his life span while also making him feel a lot younger. “My wife, huh? Sweetheart, people will think I’m your sugar daddy or something,” he teased as he started the car engine and placed the location of the hotel onto the GPS map.

25 minutes away

“So?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. The whole atmosphere you guys had created with each other had suddenly felt so natural, comforting, almost familiar. “They can think what they want to think then, they just be jealous that I have a rich man to support me,” you huffed.

Leon stepped on the gas and began driving away from this hell of a campus. “Careful now, it sounds like you want me to be your sugar daddy.” his voice is now lower as he teases you slightly, huffing out a quiet laugh.

He looks over at you from the road to see your face slightly flushed with pink, but looks away a bit embarrassed with a huff, making him amused. “If you want to pay off my student loans, then sure,” you snorted softly, crossing your arms in front of you, earning a low chuckle from him as he turned his head back onto the road.

“Being in this job is dangerous though, I recommend you stay with what you’re studying, and even if you do marry someone in this profession…” he pauses for a bit. Thinking back on how this job didn’t really allow him to have a personal life at all at times, especially back in his rookie days…

The pain this job has brought him was already too much to bear alone; he preferred not to reel anyone into it and have them carry the same burden as him. Especially not now when he…

One of his hands reached up to his right neck, where a dark, bruised wound sat… one that tied him back to Racoon city…

“It’s a difficult relationship to be in…” Leon whispered. You turned your head to him as you see how his eyes now look like he's grieving… grieving the loss of himself over the years, “It’s the constant fear on my end when I know that my job itself is a threat to any relationship I develop…”

From the experience you had tonight, you knew that this line of work was dangerous and tiring, and to know that Leon had to go through multiple events so similar to today made you feel guilty for being how you were just from one night.

Your gaze lingers over his face, studying his expression. Under the dim lights reflected off by some street lights as well as the car’s headlights, you can see the way you looked forward. It’s the gaze that regrets not looking back.

The air has now changed within the car, and the drive is now… silent. You can almost feel and understand the feeling he had felt, taking you back to when everything broke out into chaos earlier today…

It felt like the world had, at an instant, spun at two times the speed; you couldn’t react fast enough to consider anything else. Your body had moved on its own like it was on autopilot, only worrying about the preservation of itself. At no point did you help anyone; you didn’t talk, didn’t scream, didn’t pull. The silence itself became your biggest flaw.

You were terrified… You wished you weren’t, if you hadn't been so— they could’ve—

“I’m sorry…” You apologized… Not sure who it was directed to… For Leon? For those bodies, you had to walk past? The one you had to shoot?

“I— I” your voice crackled and started to tremble once again as the memories of tonight rushed back into your head. You tried to really push it back once again, but it won't…

The thick air, the screams, the cries, the darkness.

You dripped onto the front of the passenger seat as you covered your mouth and closed your eyes, biting back a sob. Leon heard the shakiness in your voice, and he panics slightly, knowing he’s unable to comfort you when his focus should be on the road.

Quickly, he checks his GPS and sees there’s a pond at the next turn, so he speeds up a bit and turns into the driveway that overlooks a small pond in the middle of nowhere.

The turn was a little rushed and made you jerk sideways a bit as you clinged into the seat belt, and soon he came to a stop.

You looked at him as you tried to breathe normally, but couldn’t when the car suddenly felt just as suffocating as that storage closet. Leon quickly cuts off the engine and takes off his seat belt while reaching over to release yours, and you bite your lip trying to swallow the sob.

“Hey, hey, hey… Shhh, it’s alright, breathe…” he cooed as his hand came up to your face like before, wiping your tears as they fell. You really do try to breathe; you breathed in sharply, but it felt as if the air wasn't getting into your system. You feel hot as blood rushes to your face and your head pounds harder, matching the pulse of your fast heartbeat.

“I— I can't,” you managed to cry out before going to the door next to you, opening it, and stepping out to catch some fresh air. You bend over, head hanging low as you prop your hands on your lower thigh, as you try again to control your breathing. You hear Leon step out of the car and rush over to you to check in on you, hands going to rub your back.

You breathed in and out for a second before standing straight. Your breathing is still shaky. You walked over to a large rock that overlooks the pond, sat down, and continued to control your breathing. Leon followed along as well and sat right next to you, watching you and being there in case you needed anything.

The late autumn wind softly blows across your face, the tears that were left on your face made it feel colder than it should’ve and it made your body instinctively shiver just slightly. Leon looks over and sees the shiver.

You hear him walk behind you, but your eyes still gaze out upon the pond. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled shakily, your body still recovering from the breakdown you just had.

You hear Leon shuffle a bit behind you, and you turn back to see what he was doing, but you are met with the sight of his leather jacket as he draped it over your shoulder, covering you. The jacket was heavier than you thought, but it was warm.

Your hand goes up to grab the side of the collar as you pull it closer towards you, fingers brushing right over Leon’s hand.

“You wouldn’t want to catch a cold out here.” Leon let out a short breath as you sniffled up again. Your eyes wandered from his hand that remained on your shoulder, on the jacket, up to his face. You had to admit, the moon was definitely admiring this man’s looks as well from the way it highlighted all his sharp features.

“Thank you, Leon… but are you sure—“ you were about to ask if he was alright about not having a jacket, but he already knew.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetie, a bit of cold won’t kill me,” he jokes as he sits back down on the rock next to you. He has one leg stretched out while the other is bent, his arms resting behind him, propping himself up as he takes the time to enjoy the peace… a rare moment in his life.

Your gaze drifts to where his lead, which was the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water. You took another deep breath in, holding it for just a second longer before releasing it. Sounds of crickets echoing in the night, carried over by the winds.

Your head tilts slightly as you look at him…seeing how he breathes slowly… ”How do you live like this…?” you asked softly, voice cracking just slightly towards the end. Leon looked over at you when you had asked and hesitated a bit. He knew the question meant no harm, I mean…you had been through one hell of an event.ng

Leon stayed silent for a bit, not exactly sure of how he could even answer that question. He looks over your face, now illuminated by the moonlight, looking way too pure for his chaotic life. He sees how your eyebrows furrow up, worried, hesitant, how your eyes are stained red from all the crying you have done today. Oh, how he wishes he could take all your worries away and wipe away all those tears… The way your lips are slightly swollen, too…

His hand moved on its own as it left the rock; his other hand remained on to support him while his hand reached up to your face, cresting it softly, wiping some tears that hadn’t yet rolled fully off your face.

Unlike before at the library tower, the moment allowed him to really feel you under his rough hands, your soft skin contrasted under his, which were calloused. Your eyes never leave him as you lean closer to his touch, letting yourself into it.

“Sweetie…” he whispered, loud enough for you to hear but not enough for the winds to carry it off; these words weren’t for them.

You felt yourself melting as he continued to refer to you as such… It was something about an older man referring to you like that. Of course, it was normal for someone older to call someone younger certain names, but the way Leon said it… It had a hint of protectiveness, a sense of closeness when he calls out to you.

You didn’t know why he had such an effect on you, but similarly, Leon couldn’t help but be pulled in by you time and time again today.

“For me it’s been years… I lived, regretted, and I swear I try to forget… but it keeps crawling back." His voice was painful; everything about him carried those emotions he had felt over the years, the lines on his face, the sharpness of his glare, the gleam nowhere to be found in his eyes, the roughness of his hands. 

To you, though, they felt warm; the lines on his face didn’t bother you, his eyes were soft when they were on you, and his hands were protective when they were on you. To you, he was living proof that someone can live… he was proof that there is someone who you can count on… one that you can connect to.

Your hand raises to hold onto the hand that cupped your face, Leon taking a sharp breath in when your hand wraps over his much larger ones.

“I want to forget too…” You confessed, knowing that the events of today will continue to plague you for the rest of your life. You can ignore it as much as you want, throw out any evidence in your life that connected back to it, hell, even if you had transferred universities. The memory will continue to live on… You wanted instead your memories to be filled with something else…

“I don’t want to think about it… I don’t want to remember…” You plead… not only directing it to Leon, but your own consciousness too, as your gaze finally leaves him to look down as you feel another sob coming up.

Leon shifted his seating to get closer to you, knowing exactly how you feel because he, too, wishes for his visions back to Racoon City to disappear. He really tries to hold himself back when you plead like he wanted to help so badly, an instinct of his at this point.

“Let me help you, sweetie…” he offered his voice lower yet still soft as you turned your head back to him, but your eyes gazed towards his lips, they weren’t soft by any means, but you didn’t mind…

The two souls had connected and found each other through the chaos, two souls desperate to find any means to distract themselves from the path they had taken down life.

Leon’s gaze was the same as yours, his eyes glancing down to your lips, which looked so soft and plump from all the crying, but both of you were still hesitant… You guys had just met a mere couple of hours ago, and yet the relationship that developed had felt so concrete. The only stable ground the two of you guys ever stood on, it seems.

Slightly shifting forward towards his face, Leon did the same, his hand still on your face and your hand on his. Leon slowly connected his forehead to yours, his bangs slightly tickling your forehead, his eyes now only centimeters from yours as the two of you looked into each other.

You guys remained like for a couple of seconds, no words spoken, just felt.

It was like you were asking for some sort of confirmation, some sort of forgiveness for the feeling, the desire, the yearning that began to develop between the two of you.

“Please… tell me to back down,” Leon pleaded, wishing you could push him away, hoping you would turn away yourself so he could finally let go of the string that had kept on pulling him towards you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to do that, though, you didn’t want to… You wanted him to continue… You had come to realize how, whenever he touches your face or is with you within any proximity, you felt like you could only think of him… That’s what you wanted, that's what you needed.

Leon waited, but you didn’t move, you didn’t pull away, and he cursed himself for what he was about to do because his desire and yearning for something, for you, was already too much for him to hold back anymore.

The hand that cupped your face, your jaw, slowly raises slightly, as his forehead leaves yours as he tilts your head up slightly to him. You can feel each other’s breathing at this closeness…

Slowly leaning in, your eyes close, and so does his as his lips slowly connect to yours, just barely, caressing the surface with a peck, a test of confirmation, seeing if you would finally pull away from him.

You didn’t… You wanted more, and that was all Leon needed as his lips fully connected with his as the two of you both inhaled sharply. His grip is tightening softly on your face as your other hand goes up to hold onto his chest.

The kiss was soft, it was slow, cautious, and there was no rush. Your lips move in sync with his as he places soft, lingering kisses around your lips, and his other hand reaches for your waist, pulling you in closer to him.

“Sweetie… do you want this…?” he asked, between kisses, knowing that he was stepping over a line that he should have never stepped over; he didn’t want to seem like he was taking advantage of you. He was much older than you, maybe twice your age, more seasoned, he could have found a sense of relief with someone else, but yet he wants it to be you so bad at this moment.

“Yes… please” you whispered softly between kisses, and then leaned in closer as you got more desperate for more of him. Your mind was hazy; it wasn’t blank, but instead it was of him… You can feel his stubble grazing against your chin and occasionally on your lips, but it feels almost erotic as you whimper against his lips.

Leon melts into the deeper kiss as he beats with his own mind in the process. He knows how wrong this was, but you kept on pulling him deeper and deeper, and your soft pleas only added to his growing desire for you.

Leon groans against the kiss as he pulls you fully onto him, his hands resting under your thighs as he stands up with you, carrying you while his lips remain on yours. You let him move, only wanting to remain in his arms, his touch, his kiss.

Your back hit the side of his car, but he had cushioned the impact with his hand that rested on your back while the other held you up. His lips still on yours, groaning between kisses.

He brings you back up from his car as the hand behind your back leaves to open the backseat door, and he bends over to place you down onto the leather seats, giving you one last peck before breaking off for a bit.

You were a bit upset when his lips left yours, but you quickly scooted back a bit more so that Leon could get into the car as well.

The door closes with a soft thud and the jacket he had draped over you earlier has already fallen off your shoulders to the floor of the car, Leon could care less about that jacket right now as the door clicks as he locks it shut. You quickly kick off your shoes, and Leon follows suit, and his arm reaches over to your face, pulling you back in for a kiss to continue.

You again wrapped your arms around his neck as his other arm scoops over your back, pulling you in more and laying you flat down onto his seat.

“Fuck… sweetie…” Leon groans into the kiss as your hand moves up from his nape up to his hair, tangling your fingers through them. Leon licks across your lips, and just the sensation alone makes you let out a soft moan as he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The two of you explore each other’s mouths, occasionally accidentally bumping into each other’s teeth from how deeply you were kissing each other, but neither of you minds. Leon’s hand cups up behind your back and slips under your hoodie and t-shirt, his rough hands rubbing your bare waist softly.

He breaks away for a second to look at you as his thumb rubs your waist in slow motion, soothing you. You looked up at him, and the light from the moon that reflected off the water's surface was enough to help light up the interior of the car just slightly.

Leon looks down at you as your chest rises up and down, catching your breath as your face and ears are flushed pink, lips swollen from the makeout. “Sweetheart… you’re going to kill me…” he admits as he leans back down again, kissing your forehead, letting the kiss linger a little longer as you bask in the feeling of it all.

His hand behinds to slowly move upwards towards where the wire of your bra sat, and he pulls back from your forehead, connecting his forehead to yours as he looks into your eyes. “Is this alright…? Are you alright?" He asks, needing confirmation that the path this was heading was alright with you.

You looked back at him, eyes full of wanting…

Reaching a hand up to cup his face, his stubble poking at your hand as it rests there. You pull him to you, placing a soft kiss on his lips, whispering back, “Yes… you can continue”.

That was all Leon needed, and he reconnects your lips with his as he holds himself up slightly with one hand above you while the other under your shirt moves up further, under your bra to cup your breasts, kneading them softly.

He continues to kiss you and soon moves down to your jaw, trailing more kisses down your neck. Your back arches against his touch as you let out another soft moan. You can feel Leon's hand then slowly move to the back of your chest, finding the clip to your bra, unclipping it with ease.

“mmmm…Leon…more” you begged as you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensations you were feeling at the moment.

Leon chuckles against your neck as he hears the pleas. He swears just your soft little moans are enough to make him cum right then and there in his pants.

He leans back as you prop yourself up along with him, now sitting in the middle of the back seats. His hand finds your face again, and his thumb rubs your cheeks as the other goes to hold the edge of your hoodie.

Your hand follows where his was on your hoodie, and you help him pull it over your head along with the t-shirt that was under it, as well as the bra.

“Fuck… you’re so gorgeous, sweetie…” He says, admiring you under the dim moonlight, thinking you’re the purest thing on this god-forsaken Earth. He looks at you over and over again, hands running up your waist like he wants to carve every curve, every detail of you into his memory…

Feeling a bit embarrassed as he said that you instinctively lip your arms up a bit trying to cover yourself but he gets a hold of your arms, preventing you from doing so, “Don’t hide yourself please…let me see my pretty girl…” he whispers as his hands move down to cup your breasts as he leans forward to kiss your collar bones before trailing down further.

One of his hands goes to pick up one of your legs, bringing it over his lap, and you follow, now straddling him, and he has a much better angle to your chest.

“So perfect…” he groans as he continues to kiss down to your breasts, taking one into his mouth as his hand massages the other.

You throw your head back in bliss, and you moan out his name, “Oh yes…Leon…please…” With your pleas, Leon takes your nipple, swirling it around his tongue, trying to remember the taste of you on it.

“So sweet…” Leon moans as he is buried into your chest.

“Mmmm your shirt Leon… take it off…” You plead, your hands dropping to his shoulders, pulling at his compression shirt slightly.

He pulls back, and from your view, you could see just how dilated his pupils were; he was too into it, and his lips were glistening with some of his spit. He pants softly before pulling his shirt over his head, deshelveling his hair even more than your fingers did.

You lay back slightly, a hand trailed to his toned chest and then his arms. His muscles tense up at your soft touch. Throwing his head back and holding your waist as you enjoyed yourself, he chuckles.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart…? Realizing that I’m too old for you?” he teases as he kneads your waist and hips.

You leaned forward, giggling while placing a soft kiss on his chin, not caring that his stubble pokes at your lips. Your left hand traces down his cheeks to his jaw, then just as you reach his neck, you freeze slightly. Under your han you felt something… on his neck.

“Leon…” you muttered, and Leon knew…

His hand reaches up to hold your left hand, “Don’t worry about me, sweetie… I’ll be fine, it’s nothing,” he reassured as he pulled your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles. He doesn’t want to let anything related to the chaotic and dangerous life he lives interfere with the comfort between the two of you currently.

He leans forward to catch your neck, distracting you, wanting you to only focus on the pleasure he’s giving you as he goes back down to your breasts. Your hips move slightly, grinding on his hard-on under his pants, the feeling of it poking up at you made you feel very impatient.

“I want it, Leon…” you groaned as you tugged on his hair, his mouth still preoccupied with your breasts. “Fuck please… it’s so sensitive," you plead and whine as he licks and sucks on your breasts like a starved man. You grind yourself on his erection more as he continues to worship your breast and you can definitely feel your arousal seeping past your panties.

He is lost… completely in bliss in your embrace and warm as he is touching you. He couldn’t really believe it… He felt held, seen, and needed. After all these years, through missions, battles, losses, and regret, he is holding someone who understands it, feels it, and doesn’t pull away. Leon felt something ignite within him whenever he touched you, and he is chasing for that feeling to grow stronger as he pushes up against you even more.

After what felt like forever, your breath was shaky, and your breasts were almost completely sore and sensitive to any sort of touch. He lay your back down onto the seats and his hands settled onto your jeans. Your hands hurried to unbutton them as he helped you slide them off, and your panties came off along with them.

You are now lying down completely nude in front of him, and Leon is trying so hard not to just pound into you right then and there as he sees just how wet and lude you look right now, but he couldn’t do that to his sweet girl. He unbuckles his own belts and straps, throwing them to the back of the car, kicking his pants off, leaving himself in just his briefs.

You sat back up, your hands going to trace his chest and slowly drag them down, feeling his happy trails right above his briefs. Looking up at him, you bite your lips, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, slightly sweaty, and his mouth slightly opened. You lean into his chest and start to go lower, but he pulls you back.”Nuh uh, let daddy be the one that pleases you.”

You swore you just grew wetter when he referred to himself as such, and you instinctively rub your thighs together. “Oh?” he smirks as he sees your action, his hand reaching down to spread out one of the legs, making you lie back down, eyes never leaving his.

Leon looks down as he parts your legs and sees you spread out like that… he dives straight down. It hooks both arms under your thighs as he looks at you from between your legs, and he places soft kisses down your inner thigh. His stubble tickling you a bit makes you jolt, but his hands keep you still. You whimpered against his touch as you clenched against nothing, needing to have some sort of relief.

“Is this okay?” He asks as he reaches your folds. His eyes pleaded more than his words did at this point, by the way he looked at you.

“Yes..” you exhaled, as you watched his every move. With your confirmation, he takes one hand up to slowly rub up and then down your folds, collecting the slick around. You let out a sharp breath as you throw your head back.

He was definitely taking his sweet time with you, but you didn’t mind…

“Oh my sweet girl… look at you… you're dripping,” Leon whispered against your pussy. His breath alone was enough to make you squirm slightly, but Leon still held you in place with his arms. His thumb spreads open your folds slightly as Leon’s tongue latches onto the bundle of nerves, licking and softly sucking on it.

“Oh my god… daddy please… mmmm,” you cried out in bliss, your hips rising up slightly to get more. Your jaw opens up as your breathing becomes ragged.

Leon works on your clit, basically nuzzling his face into your pussy at this point as he groans between licks. “You taste so sweet… It’s intoxicating…” he growls as he dives right back in, using his thumb to part your folds further as he shoves his fat tongue into your pussy, pulling you closer to his face. Your legs bend even more, back arching, and your thighs squeeze at Leon’s head slightly from the pleasure.

Your hand flies onto his head, gripping his hair as you crave more. Leon, on the other hand, was too busy eating you out, shoving his tongue in and out of your pussy as his thumb worked on your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, making you cry out his name repeatedly.

“Leon…Leon…” you squealed. The texture of his stubble only added to the mix of sensation, and you are completely lost as your pussy clenches down onto his tongue.

“That’s not my name, sweet girl…” he grunted as he detached himself from your pussy, making you clench around nothing. You whined and looked back down at him.

“Please, daddy… I need you so badly it hurts,” you cried as your hips buckled up, wanting him to continue.

He lets out a low chuckle, seeing his girl so needy for him, since she asked so nicely, he, of course, can't deny those pleas. His head dives straight back onto your pussy, eating it up, getting it all wet with his spit. He pulls back slightly before leaning back in and clamping down onto your pussy with his teeth lightly.

“D-Daddy—!” You squealed as he did that, which earned you a chuckle from him.

“Sorry, sweetie… Your pussy is too fucking sweet… I want to eat it all up… “ he teases as he licks your clit, his hand rubbing your folds, and then his middle finger ghosts over your pussy.

“I need your finger in me, daddy please… stretch me out…” You plead with no hesitation, as all the touching and kissing have gotten you very needy for him to just fuck you.

Leon continued to lick and suck on your clit as he slowly pushed his middle finger in, which went in smoothly with just how wet you were, and he felt you clench around it. “So wet this pussy… yeah… daddy’s making you this wet, right?” he asks with a smirk as his finger begins to pump in and out of you.

You gasp at just the size of one of his fingers, knowing damn well yours could never compare. “Yes… all for you, daddy… fuck..” you exhaled as he continued to work on your pussy as it drips for him. Lude wet sounds emanate from it as he licks, sucks, basically makes out with your pussy while his finger is getting soaked in your essence.

Soon, you feel his index finger slowly pushing into you along with his middle finger, and that's when you really feel the stretch. You haven't had any sexual relations with anyone in a long time, so being stuffed by Leon’s thick and long fingers, you had to adjust slightly.

“You alright, sweetie? Am I hurting you?” he had gotten up from your pussy and kissed your cheek, checking in to see if you were alright. Your hands touched him all over his jaw, neck, and broad chest as his two fingers stayed still inside you.

“Yes, I’m alright… just haven't done anything in a while…” You admitted, a bit embarrassed, turning your head away a bit.

Leon takes a sharp intake of breath at your confession, and chuckles, figuring that you most likely had only been with guys around your age before, which was true… None of those skanky frat bros from college could ever make you feel so blissful to the point where you feel like you’re becoming the reason why lust is considered a sin.

Leon starts placing soft, lingering kisses on your jaw. “That’s alright… Let daddy show you what it’s like being with a grown man,” he comforts before catching your lips in a kiss that was more intense than before, shoving his tongue into your mouth, making it his mission to become the taste you yearn for. 

His fingers begin to move, slowly at first, drawing it in and out before he curls them slightly upwards, feeling your gummy walls clench around them as it hits a certain spot that makes you throw your head back with a moan.

He continues, now opting to kiss your jaw, then your neck, to which he sucks on some areas, leaving dark red marks all over, as well as your chest. “You hear that, sweetie…?” He cooed as his fingers worked on your pussy, occasionally spreading them apart slightly to stretch you out.

You couldn’t even make out a correct sentence anymore as the pleasure was too much, and a feeling began to build up and pool in your lower abdomen. “See how much you are dripping…” Leon’s erection at this point was almost painful, but just seeing you moaning his name over and over again was enough already. “Going to stretch this pussy out with my cock later… you want that, yeah?” he has a cocky smirk on as he quickens up his finger, making you throw yourself forward a bit, your hand going to grip onto his tense arm that was fucking your pussy.

“O-Ohh— I’m going to— “ you moaned as your eyes met his, and he could just drink up that expression you had on right now, you were breathing heavily, sweaty as strands of hair stuck onto your face. At this point, the entire car was steaming up a bit with your breathy moans.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as your mouth opens up to an o as more lewd sounds come out of them as your breathing quickens and you clench down even more. “Yeah, that’s it, my sweet girl… go ahead… cum for daddy.”

With that, you shivered as you reached your high, as your essence drips out onto his hand and some onto his expensive leather seats, but Leon can’t bother to give a fuck about those seats.

You collapse against him, still holding onto his arm for support as you catch your breath. “That’s it… you did so well,” he comforts as his hand moves some strands of hair away from your face to kiss your forehead.

His fingers come out with a gushing sound, he brings them up to his mouth, giving a lick, “So sweet baby…”.

You covered your face as he said, “It’s so embarrassing, don’t do that…” you whined, but you knew that wasn’t going to stop him.

Leon sits back as he pulls down his briefs, finally freeing his aching cock. You remove your hands from your face as you watch him remove the last piece of clothing, and you slightly get concerned when you see his size…

Your eyes glazed down his happy trail that led down to his fairly unkept carpet, but you didn’t really mind when all you could focus on was whether or not he would fit…

“Don’t worry, sweetie… It’ll make it fit…” he assured as he basically read your mind, knowing exactly what you were thinking from your reaction. “I’ll go, sweetie… I won't hurt you,” he reassures as he leans down to kiss your temples.

He looks down, grabbing his cock and drags it over your folds that were covered in your own release, gathering it onto his tip, using it as lubrication. You shivered at the feeling of the tip dragging up and down. “Yes… fuck daddy, I need your cock inside me please…” You whimpered as you held onto his shoulder and face, kissing his cheek.

With that, Leon lines himself up with you before slowly pushing the head in. The feeling of that alone already has him closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your raw pussy around his tip.

You whimper at the stretch; it burned, yes, but it felt too good. Your back arches as your grip on him tightens.

“Fuck… so tight… relax for me, sweet girl, will you? You’re going to suffocate daddy’s cock” he grunts as he continues pushing in, as his hand goes down to rub your bud, making you loosen up a bit around him.

“It’s so big…” You whined as the combined feeling of him rubbing you while his cock stretched your pussy out was enough to throw you into ecstasy.

Leon grunts through it all as he slowly inches in more bit by bit, drinking every bit of your expression and the feeling of your walls. His head hangs down as he finally bottoms out and stays there for a bit for you to adjust.

He looks up at you, kissing you around your face, “Doing so well for me, sweetie, you’re making daddy feel so good… such a good girl,” he praised. He was propping himself up on his elbow, and he turned his hand slightly to rub your cheek as you finally opened your eyes to meet his.

Both of you stayed there like that for a while, just taking in the feeling of each other and holding each other, but just as Leon was asked if he could move, he felt your chest shake a bit as small sobs came out. His eyes widen in worry as he looks over your face, worried he has hurt you. You cried as you looked up at him.

“Am I hurting you? We can stop if you—”

“No…” you cut him off, “It’s not that… It’s just that I’m happy… I feel so loved and comforted… I just want to hold you close… I don’t want to think back to today… I just want to remember you” you sobbed into him as both of his arms cages around you and he leans to kiss your tears as they fall.

“Shhh, it’s okay, daddy’s here… Daddy will make you feel good… until all you can remember is daddy’s fat cock fucking your pussy” and with that he pulls out half way before slamming his whole length back into you making you moan out in bliss as leon catches your mouth with his, drinking in the rest of your moans.

His pace began slow but in all the right areas, which made you wrap your hands around his back, crawling at it as he continued to pound into you, groaning and cursing under his breath. He held you close the whole time, arms wrapped protectively around you.

“So perfect… your pussy was made for daddy, yeah?” he groans, as he pulls himself all the way out until only his tip remains in you before slamming it back.

Yeah that did it for you as you turned into a babbling mess, “Da— Daddy so full… mmm… Love daddy’s cock” you murmured as your legs lifted slightly to wrap behind his back. His cock is hitting the deepest part of your cervix now with every thrust.

“Yeah? You like it, sweetie? Like it when daddy stretches out your pussy? Ohhh fuck sweetie,” he coos into your ear as his pace quickens up and one hand goes back down to rub on your bud.

You tremble as you feel yet another release approaching as you whine more, oh Leon knew and continues at the pace he was going, “That’s it… cum all over daddy’s cock, always dripping for daddy’s cock right?” he encourages you as your back arches more to the touch, your breath shaking every time he pounds into you and soon your legs tremble as you clench down onto his cock.

“So proud of you, sweetie… fuck look at that… creaming all over daddy,” he smirks as he rubs your cheeks as you breathe heavily.

“So full…” You cooed, your eyes barely open, but then suddenly you felt yourself shift as Leon picked you up, flipping both of you around until you were on top of him, straddling him with his hard dick still in you.

“You still got another one in you, baby?” He asks as he helps fix yours slightly by moving them away from your face so that he can get a good look at you.

Through your hazy vision, you see his face, a light blush covering his face, and you nod, having barely any strength to make out any words. Leon chuckles, seeing how he has done a number on you already. His hands move to your hips, raising them up a bit as he slides down the seat just a bit, spreading his leg to the side, behind the passenger and driver’s seat.

He held your hips in place as your hands rested on his broad chest, holding yourself up, but they buckled and gave up as Leon started to thrust himself up into you. The sounds of his balls clapping onto your cheeks rang throughout his car as you fell onto his chest, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

“Daddy… Fuck…” you murmured lazily as you were way too tired to let out anything else other than whines and moans. Leon didn’t mind when your pussy clenched onto his cock basically asking to milk him dry. His chest rises up and down as he starts to breathe heavily, his grip on your hip shifts, and now he’s now gripping your ass tightly, and you groan when he squeezes them and basically fucks you onto his cock.

You didn’t care if it was going to be sore or it’ll leave a mark, “Yeah, daddy… f-fu— g-gonna c— again mmm!” you whined as you feel yourself needing another release…

“I know, baby… Ohhh fuck… Daddy’s gonna cum too… where you want me to—?” Lean tenses up as his speed quickens, chasing his own high as he throws his head back.

“I— Inside… on pill,” you whimpered out as you clenched and dripped onto him.

You hold onto him as he quickly thrusts up into you, as your dripping goes down his balls and onto the car floor. He grunts loudly on the last couple of thrusts before slamming into you hard and spilling himself all into you.

The feeling of him filling you up makes you tremble slightly as everything feels sensitive after 3 releases.

“So warm, sweetie… fuck so good for me” Leon praises you as he pulls you closer to his chest, letting you lay their as he places kisses onto your forehead while one hand rests behind your head and one rests on your hip as he remains in you, letting both of you recover from such a session.

You can hear his heart beat from lying on his chest, it was fast, but as time passed and the two of you just enjoyed the feeling of each other’s bodies, his heart beat slowly returned to normal, and so did yours. His cock softens inside you and soon he shifts a little, “Sorry baby…” he pulls himself as the mixture of the two of your releases spills out of you and onto his car, “Don’t worry about that sweetie just rest, leaving the cleaning to me” he pulls you back onto him as you now sat next to him, your eyes growing heavy as tiredness catches its way up.

“Shhh… It’s alright, I’ll take care of you,” he comforts you as you try to fight against the sleepiness, wanting to be awake and enjoy his presence.

“You’ll stay right…? You won’t leave?” You asked innocently with a tired tone as you looked up at him. He smiles.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl… I’ll be here… I’ll wake you up when we’re at the hotel, okay?” he promises you. He rubs circles on your back as he bends slightly to grab his jacket from the car floor and drapes it over you. Soon, you gave in to the tiredness, eyes fluttering a couple of times before they shut completely.

…

…

…

Still in the car, Lenon looks over at your sleeping figure as his jacket rises and falls slowly with your breathing. Your expression was peaceful, at ease as you slipped into slumber. Leon breathes in slowly as he runs a hand over his hair, pushing it back as he comes to terms with what had just occurred between the two of you. He wasn’t sure how he felt… He enjoyed your company, truthfully. He yearned for you; you satiated his troubles, his pain, and he helped you with yours, but he couldn’t come to terms with himself, promising you anything concrete, and it made him feel so guilty…

He slowly and carefully points back at his pants as well as his shirt and grabs some tissues from the car’s console in the middle as he begins to wipe you down slowly and carefully, as he doesn’t wish to wake you up. He didn’t bother with the seats as he figured he could just get them cleaned at a car wash.

He looks at himself from the rear view mirror from the back seat where he sat and where you lay down. He tilted his head just slightly to see the growing black wound on his neck, knowing he most likely doesn’t have much time left… He doesn't want you to deal with that part of him… the infection.

That was the one thing that he knew connected him back to Raccoon City, and soon he knew… He had to go back.

…

…

…

The rest of the ride to the hotel was quiet as Leon drove with you still sleeping in the back. He needed you to get to a safe place, make sure you could wash up, eat, and get a better rest because he wouldn’t want you to just settle for sleeping in the backseat of his car; it wasn’t at all what he wanted to provide for you. You deserve better.

As his car pulls into the hotel parking lot it was already very late into the night, or early morning, he didn’t bother checking as he steps out before opening the back doors and getting in, seeing you still sleeping peacefully, He smiles softly seeing you enjoying your sleep and wishes that he doesn’t need to wake you up but he had to since you had to get some clothes on you before he took you into the hotel.

“Mmm… Leon…” your voice was slightly rough as you groaned at him, nudging you.

“Come on, sweetheart, get some clothes on, we’re at the hotel now.” Leon chuckles as he sees you rub your eyes as they slowly blink open. You were definitely still half asleep as you pushed yourself up on your hands, letting his jacket slide off you as you bent down to lazily pick up your bra. You slowly put it on and then fiddle with his clasp in the back, definitely struggling, and Leon quickly helps you snap them on. I mean, he was the one who took it off, so it made sense he should help you redress.

He bends down, grabbing your shirt and hoodie as you drag your legs through your panties and then jeans, pulling them up before buttoning them back on. Leon turns you over, and you raise your arms for him as he helps you put on your shirt and then your hoodie, making sure to smooth out any noticeable wrinkles.

“Come on sweetie, I have some extra clothes in the back for you to change it later, I’ll help you get checked in” he coos as he helps lead you out of his car, as he heads to his trunk to grab the extra shirt and some sweats he had, definitely way too big for you but comfortable enough for you to sleep in before guiding you into the hotel.

Your eyes are half-opened as your body desperately wants to get you back asleep. You support yourself along Leon’s arm as he walks you into the hotel lobby before placing your own onto a seat in the lounge area, making sure you are okay before heading to the front desk and handling the whole annoying check-in process.

You sat down and rested your head in your hand as you propped your elbow into the seat’s armrests. You wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Leon then walks back to you with a key card and sees you dozing off as your head nods back and forth slowly as you try to remain awake. You definitely never fail to make him feel soft for you, and he walks over and bends down to you, rubbing your cheek with a hand.

“Hey, sweetheart, your room is ready. I got you a better room so you can be more comfortable, and don’t worry, I’ve taken care of it all, okay? Let’s bring you up, and then you can sleep all you want,” he murmured.

You barely managed a tired nod.

Leon slipped an arm around your shoulders again, helping you stand as you leaned heavily into him. Your body felt like it was made of lead, every step slow and sluggish as he guided you toward the elevators.

The ride up was quiet.

You rested your head against his shoulder, eyes barely open as the elevator hummed softly upward. Leon didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted slightly closer, letting you lean against him fully.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Leon led you down the hallway until he stopped in front of a room and swiped the key card. The door clicked open as Leon pushed open the door cautiously, just out of habit, as he flipped on the lights, warm light filled the room.

He guided you inside and closed the door behind the two of you.

“Alright,” he murmured, helping you sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped beneath your weight, and you nearly collapsed backward right then and there. “Shower first,” Leon said gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’ll feel better.”

You nodded weakly as you entered the bathroom, and Leon entered right behind, placing the change of clothes next to the sink. You looked up at the mirror, seeing the reflection of him leaving, but not before looking back at you through the mirror.

“You’ll stay… right?” you hoped, asking in a whisper. Leon, though, wasn’t sure of what he should say, and so his eyes lingered on your face. You had trusted him with your life tonight, followed him through darkness, fear, and blood, and clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And right now… You were looking at him the same way, and something in his chest tightened.

He needs to pull away… he wasn't going to drag you into the mess he needed to… deal with…

“Wash up, sweetheart, and get some rest, hm?” he smiled back before the door clicked shut softly.

You’re left with the company of your own reflection now, your hair slightly tangled. Slowly, you strip yourself of your clothes before you step into the shower.

The warm water did help. Standing beneath the shower felt like washing away the entire nightmare of the night… The screams, the blood, the suffocating fear in that closet. Steam filled the bathroom as you leaned against the wall, letting the water run over your shoulders.

Your muscles ached, but your chest felt lighter knowing Leon was just outside… You weren’t alone anymore.

Leon stood there for a second.

Just listening.

The hotel room felt too quiet now that you weren’t in it, now just filled with the sounds of the shower running.

He exhaled slowly and dragged a hand down his face before pacing once across the room, his boots muffled against the carpet.

You had looked so exhausted when you stepped into the bathroom.

Barely awake.

Barely holding yourself upright.

And yet you had still turned your head up to the mirror before he closed the door just to look at him... Like you were making sure he was still there.

Leon swallowed hard and looked away from the bathroom door.

He couldn’t think about that. Not now. His hand dropped to the edge of the desk, and he braced himself there for a moment, shoulders tense as he tried to steady his breathing. That’s when he noticed it… A dull ache spread through his hand. Leon frowned slightly and lifted it into the light.

The mark had grown.

The dark veins beneath the skin crawled faintly across the back of his hand, branching out from the infected bite like something alive beneath the surface. For a moment, he just stared at it in silence.

The faint sound of the shower continued behind him with soft hums as you were humming something quietly now. Some absent-minded tune under your breath as the hot water ran. The normalcy of it made his chest tighten.

You were safe.

For the first time tonight, you were safe. Leon clenched his hand slowly; the veins pulsed faintly beneath his skin.

“…Damn it.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He had felt it getting worse for days now, the creeping infection that refused to stop spreading.

Raccoon City was waiting. The answers were there. And if he doesn't get there soon… Leon looked down again at his hand. His jaw tightened. He couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to. His gaze drifted slowly back toward the bathroom door. Steam curled beneath it now, drifting softly across the carpet.

You were probably standing under the water with your eyes closed, letting the nightmare wash away, he thought. Trusting that when you stepped out, he would still be here…

The thought made his chest ache. Leon leaned back against the wall and slid down into the chair beside the bed, staring at the floor. He remembered the library, the way your voice had cracked when you called out from the closet. The way you had thrown your arms around him the moment that door opened. The way you clung to him in the stairwell, like letting go would mean losing the only solid thing left in the world.

And later…

The quiet moments in the car…

Your head resting against his…

The warmth of you beside him…

Leon shut his eyes briefly. He knew he shouldn’t have let things go that far. Not with someone like you. Not when his life looked the way it did. Outbreaks… Monsters… Death….

Leon ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face.

“You deserve better than this,” he murmured quietly.

Then the water in the shower shut off, which made his head lift instantly as footsteps moved faintly inside the bathroom, sounds of a towel rustling. Leon’s gaze drifted once more toward his hand, and the infection pulsed again beneath the skin.

His jaw set.

That settled it.

He stood slowly.

He walked to the desk, finding the hotel notepad. The pen scratched quietly across the paper as he wrote just a few words. Nothing more. Anything longer would make it harder. Leon placed the note carefully beside his jacket at the foot of the bed, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking toward the bathroom door.

The handle hadn’t moved yet.

Steam still drifted slowly into the room.

If he stayed another minute… He might not leave at all.

Leon picked up his keys and quietly moved to the door, his hand paused on the handle.

“…You’ll be safer without me,” he said softly.

Then he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

The latch clicked as Leon walked away…

​

Eventually, you dried off and pulled on the oversized clothes he’d given you. His shirt swallowed your frame, and the sweats hung loosely around your hips. You smiled faintly; they smelled like him. You stepped out of the bathroom, still rubbing the towel through your hair.

“Leon?” Your voice came out soft and sleepy. You expected to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, or leaning against the wall, or maybe half-asleep in the chair by the window.

But the room was quiet.

The bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the empty bed. Your smile faded slightly, “…Leon?” You stepped further into the room, and the chair by the window was empty; the curtains swayed faintly from the air conditioner. Your heart began to beat a little faster, the bathroom door clicked shut behind you as you walked toward the bed, and that’s when you noticed it…

His jacket.

Folded neatly at the foot of the bed and beside it… A small note. Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up, examining it, the handwriting quick but careful.

Get some sleep.

You’re safe now.

—Leon

You stared at the words for a long moment; the silence in the room suddenly felt much heavier than before. Your chest tightened. You had thought… You thought he would stay. Just until morning. Just until the sun came up. Just until you woke up again.

Your fingers tightened around the paper as you slowly sat down on the bed, the sheets still smelled faintly like him. You pulled his jacket closer to your chest without even thinking. The smell of the comfort you held onto lingers from the jacket...

The room felt too big now. Too empty. Outside the window, the sky was beginning to lighten faintly with early morning gray, and somewhere far away a siren echoed through the quiet town. For a moment, you wondered… if Leon would ever look back on this night the same way you would. If someday, when all of this felt like a distant memory… He would remember you… Tangled up together in the darkness… Just trying to survive. Or would it just be some fragments of regretful memories..?

DIVIDERS' CREDIT: @uzmacchiato

TAG LIST (just comment to ask to be added on!): @iknowitsbetterblue @efosss

It’s the sixteenth of December.

What should’ve been a normal day—cold air, gray skies, nothing special—feels different because it’s your best friend’s birthday. She’d already floated the idea of you two going out tonight, bar-hopping, looking at men. You’d agreed, even though you’d mostly be there for emotional support.

You’re taken, after all. John Price. Captain of Task Force 141. Still feels good rolling off the tongue.

You’ve always prided yourself on being a good matchmaker. You know her taste—older, rough around the edges, a little scruffy. Easy. You shared the same type, after all.

First things first: you want to make sure she has a good morning.

You’re not usually one for surprises, but she means too much to you not to try. You consider dragging John along, but he’s already gone—off on a mission over east for the next few days.

So you do it yourself.

You decide to grab drinks for pregame later tonight, but before that—cake. You’d had one custom-made a couple days ago: Happy Birthday Bitch ILY ❤️, her favorite flavor, half vanilla, half chocolate, shaped like a heart. Very coquette. Very her.

You load the cake and drinks into your arms, keys in hand.

“Fuck—forgot candles,” you mutter.

Too late now.

You make your way up to her apartment, heart buzzing with anticipation. She’d given you a spare key months ago—no hesitation, no conditions—so you let yourself in quietly. She has no idea you’re coming. That alone makes you grin.

Cake, purse, and drinks balanced carefully, you step inside and move toward the kitchen counter.

In your excitement, you miss the large pair of worn men’s boots by the door—set neatly, deliberately. Like they belong there.

You giggle to yourself and start tiptoeing down the hallway.

Her bedroom door is closed.

You hear it then—low curses. A broken moan.

You freeze.

Your hand flies to your mouth, eyes wide. You’re not going to let her live this down. You’re already planning the jokes, the teasing—

But something else creeps in.

A sudden heat rushes over you, sharp and unfamiliar. Your head goes light.

Your stomach drops.

A bad feeling curls low in your gut.

I should see who’s in there.

Guilt pricks at you, but your instincts are screaming now. The door is new—quiet, no creaks. You know this. You’ve tested it before.

You twist the knob and push it open just enough to see.

Inside—

Your best friend.

And—

John.

He’s on top of her, sheets tangled around their hips. His dog tags—your familiar dog tags—swing between her breasts as he breathes against her ear, letting out the same low, broken moans you’ve heard a hundred times before.

“What the fuck,” you think—

No. You say it.

Out loud.

Your best friend jerks upright first, eyes blown wide, panic flashing across her face.

She wasn’t expecting company.

Your best friend scrambles, sheets tangling around her waist as she bolts upright.

“Oh my god—” she chokes. “I—I didn’t—”

John freezes.

Not the tactical stillness you’re used to. Not controlled. Not sharp.

This is worse.

This is a man caught naked in his own fucking failure.

He looks over his shoulder slowly, like he’s afraid the movement alone might shatter you further. His face drains of color when he sees you standing there—cake box tilted, your hands shaking so badly you nearly drop it.

“…Fuck,” he breathes.

It’s not anger. It’s not annoyance.

It’s devastation.

He moves off her immediately, sheets slipping as he scrambles to sit up, eyes never leaving you. His mouth opens like he’s about to bark an order, a command—something—

But nothing comes.

Because there is nothing he can say that makes this better.

Your best friend is crying now, hands over her face, voice cracking. “I swear to you—I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was him. He didn’t say your name, and I—”

You laugh.

It rips out of you—sharp, hysterical, ugly.

“Stop,” you say. Your voice sounds wrong. Distant. “Just—stop talking.”

She obeys immediately.

John finally finds his voice, and it’s wrecked.

“Love,” he starts—then stops himself like the word burns. “I—”

You turn your head just enough to look at him.

Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

Just stare.

And that somehow breaks him more.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, towel fumbling in his hands, movements clumsy and uncharacteristically unsure. He doesn’t try to cover himself right away. Doesn’t rush. Like he deserves to feel exposed.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he starts—and then visibly stops himself again.

“No,” he says hoarsely. “That’s a lie. I’m not doing that to you.”

He swallows hard.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Your best friend lets out a broken sob. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispers. “You’re my person. I would never do this to you on purpose.”

You finally set the cake down.

It makes a dull thud on the dresser.

“I came to surprise you,” you say quietly. “It’s your birthday.”

Silence.

John’s head drops into his hands.

“Fuck,” he whispers again. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You continue, voice steady in a way that scares even you.

“I got you a cake. Drinks. I was gonna pregame with you and then take you out. Help you find some scruffy older guy who wasn’t my boyfriend.”

Your friend makes a sound like she’s been stabbed.

John looks up at you then—eyes red, jaw tight, something shattered behind them.

“I didn’t plan this,” he says. “I didn’t want this. But that doesn’t matter. None of that matters.”

He stands slowly, finally wrapping the towel around his waist, posture stripped of rank, stripped of command.

“I fucked up,” he says. No hedging. No excuses. “I betrayed you. I betrayed everything.”

You wait for him to say more.

He doesn’t.

Because he knows better.

Your best friend wipes at her face, forcing herself to meet your eyes. “If you tell me to disappear, I will,” she says. “If you never want to see me again, I’ll accept that. I just—please know I love you.”